forallyoucare | (no subject)

"God, I hope so. I'm on the pull tonight," Simon laughed, hand on Judas' knee before he got up. Evidently, he was on the pull for something very particular indeed. Someone with dreads and bright, pale eyes and who was maybe a little on the Grungy, post modern rock side.

He gave Judas a wink as he left, snagging another pizza box back on the way to Peter. He thought about asking him out a few times, just as friends to the club, but ha!

Impossible. Peter would turn him down. Or worse. Go with. He couldn't babysit his pretty rear and get himself laid at the same time!

"Petey. Pizza up. You're too thin."

Judas raised a single brow up at that surprisingly direct suggestion. Huh. If Simon wanted him, why not just ask if they wanted to fuck later? That'd been a while, though now that he thought about it, they hadn't quite gotten that far with things together. Well, it'd be a fun night, one way or the other.

Peter, who saw that touch, felt his throat close up. Simon couldn't- he barely heard his friend when Simon returned, and instead, just got up and walked away, knowing he would say something so stupid if he stayed. If he just had the courage to say something- then what? What would be the point? Simon would turn him down flat. He laughed at himself, an unhappy sort of laugh. Why was he torturing himself with this?

"What? Pete, do I smell? Listen, you look fine--". Okay. What had he done? Simon watched him for for a moment, mulled over it and ate his pizza. Most of the other guys were on Amazon looking at what they could order for the bus, paints for airbrushing and little details that would make the rolling home a little more homey.

He spotted Peter a little while later, leaving the yard in front of the garage, and he cut off what he was saying to Bart to fall into step with his little Scottish friend.

"Want a ride home?" He asked with a sort of side-eye, not really able to read Peter well at all. He looked sad, though. Of all people on this Earth, Peter should be the last person to look sad. Ever.

Bart blinked, then shrugged when he spotted Peter. Those two had their own thing.

Peter, one hand around the backpack strap ready to hoof it home, looked to Simon at the sudden offer. He looked off to the side, wanting to say yes so badly (he could curl his arms around Simon and just hold tight for a few minutes) but it didn't help how he was immediately feeling. Still, if he didn't take it, Simon would know that he was a lot more upset than he wanted right now!

"Uh, sure," he said after a moment or two, even though the light wasn't quite back to his eyes despite the small smile. "Thanks, Simon."

Peter wasn't allowed to look like that. He just wassn't. The kid was too sweet and Simon felt like it was his duty to preserve that. He planted his helmet on the kid's head and climbed over to his motorcycle, settling in to wait for Peter to join him. "You hold on tight. JC will never forgive me if you fall off somewhere and get lost," Simon said.

He ended up not going to the house Peter shared with Judas, John and James, but instead to the Starbucks on the corner. It was a little too high profile for him, a little too conformist, but he really liked their frappacinos and McDonald's attempt to craft them was poor and technically, just as corporate. He turned to look over his leather clad shoulder at the youngest of the Twelve.

"Can I get you a coffee, Pete? You need some sugar. Your spirits are bringing us all down."

It was so easy to put his forehead against the warmth of Simon's leather jacket, his eyes closed as he held on tight. Simon felt strong and whippet under his arms and he breathed in that scent of hair gel and leather that even on the cycle he could smell this very close. So when he felt the cycle stop, he lifted his head and looked confused when this definitely wasn't the house.

He peered at Simon, blinking, then chewed his lip before shrugging. "Sure." This was... not what he was expecting. He loved spending time with Simon, and alone for once!, but this felt like salt on his little self-made wounds. But he could manage, right?

He climbed off, giving the cycle a pat.

Simon didn't hold the door for Peter, he didn't order for him either, just sort of pointing over his shoulder for the kid to give the barista his order. He paid with a phone app, prepaid by one of his old clients who had leant him his card once and never asked for it back. The man still topped it off when it went low, probably with some auto reload thing. Simon didn't complain. It was just nice to get a fancy coffee on some other dude's dime every once in awhile.

They sat at a counter upstairs, side by side, once their orders were up and the sugar cookies Simon had gotten from the case were out of the little to go bags handed over with their receipt. He didn't take off his leather jacket as he hooked an elbow over the back of the chair and looked down at his bike and the rest of the small city passing below.

"We never do this," Simon was saying, mostly to himself as he broke off a piece of the cookie to chew on, looking thoughtfully at Peter. "So weird. You're the only Starbucks type in the group too."

"It's funny because you're the person I would last think who was a Starbucks kind of guy," he said quietly, leaning forward on his elbows on the counter and his hands wrapped around his cup but ignored the cookie. A weird thing for them to have in common. They did have remarkably little in common, the more he thought about it, but... a few. A few. Like this. Like JC.

"Hey, Simon? ...Why do you stay with us?" Peter turned his head to look at Simon, trying to understand him by watching those beautiful eyes and expressive face.

"Just...you know. Don't rat me out. Everyone's allowed to have a guilty pleasure, man." Simon winked at his friend before he broke off another piece of cookie and hooked the heels of his boots against the rung of the stool he was seated in. It was all so effortless, the way he held himself, but he was a dancer. Perhaps not the sort of reputable one that Peter's parents went to see at the ballet, but the movements were surprisingly similar. Just less technically minded or choreographed.

He was halfway done his drink when Peter spoke again, and this time, it made Simon laugh.

"I got the call, same as you guys." John called it that, the call. Meeting JC had been like a breath of fresh air to a plant that didn't know it was dying. And following him? Well, Simon wasn't sure he had a choice. "He saved me. From myself. I mean, it wasn't as dramatic as how he saved Judas but he made me see that there was a better way. I'd never leave him now."

They all knew a little about Judas but not the whole story (not like Simon did), but still Peter could nod a little. His eyes went back down to his cup, trying to keep two trains of thought from coming together but it was failing. He wanted to think about that, about Simon and his reasons why, but his lower brain was getting in the way of his upper brain. His fingers tightened on the cup unconsciously and he sighed a little to himself.

"Not the same as me," Peter pointed out, not looking up. Sometimes he felt like he had messed up by not getting saved in the same way as the others, though he knew exactly what they meant. Meeting JC for the first time had been something else, something like light coming into his life. Simon... Simon had been the one to save him, as far as he was concerned. He brought up a hand and brushed the only remainder of that night, the small scar near his hairline.

Simon's eyes followed the tips of Peter's fingers. How could they not? He wanted to touch the scar too, but he knew better than to do that. He believed he was a good man, he believed he had a lot to offer someone, but he also believed that Peter was sort of his number one achievement here. That the whole of his goodness had been channeled into kicking that douche bag in the head a few times.

Most people probably wouldn't agree, though.Kicking people in the head? Not a cool move.

He turned to face Peter, elbow on the counter and one leg propping his boot on a rung of Peter's stool. Their legs nearly brushed, but the heat from Simon's body might as well have done the job anyway.

"James only joined up after John met JC," he pointed out, as one brother had brought the other along. And in a way, it was sort of the same for the two of them. Simon had brought JC, Judas, Matt and Andy to the hospital to see Peter the day after he'd been taken there. Why? Simon just knew that Peter was one of them. He'd felt it when he touched his hand.

It didn't matter if he was so different from the rest of them.

"I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

"It doesn't matter. You risked getting your ass kicked to save me." His fingers press at the scar before they fall away. He shrugged, taking a drink before adding quietly, "I remember waking up in the hospital assuming I was dead. I don't even remember you saving me. Nothing after that kick to the head." Or when his head hit the ground, he wasn't sure. "I just remember opening my eyes and seeing you and JC standing there looking down at me."

A little smile, but it was a bit sad. One finger played with the wood stain of the counter, trying to figure out if it was real or not. He just gave in to his own desire, hating himself for it, and let his leg touch Simon's.

Simon didn't really think a whole lot of it. He saw JC and Pete holding hands all the time. Technically, JC pretty much held anyone's hand who sat next to him, and Peter always made sure to have his front row seat. Simon wondered if it was comforting, to hold hands with their friend. He thought it must be, but he never tried to get a spot for himself. Peter probably needed it.

Not because he was weak, but because he made everyone happier just to be around him.

"I brought you grapes," Simon grinned. They hadn't been the seedless sort though, so Peter almost choked. "Oh, your mom took one look at me at cried when your parents came down-- I'm surprise you stayed," he said, throwing Peter's words back at him.

That got a laugh out of Peter, remembering that. "Everyone freaked out because they thought I was going to die on top of already having already almost died." He stretched his legs out under the counter, then let his knee fall back againt Simon's. It felt... nice. Almost like this was something more.

"I explained to her after that you saved my life... she felt a little better after that." Okay so maybe he told them a few little white lies to smooth things over. "Maybe not their cup of tea, though."

No she didn't. She just stopped clutching her pearls so tightly. Simon had gone home and just texted Peter for awhile after that, until Peter's parents had gone home and the kid himself went back to his tiny apartment. He had no idea that JC had moved into his territory by that point. Simon had been planning on getting himself invited over and sampling the goods he had saved but JC brought Peter into the fold before that could happen.

Simon had been surprised. He'd been more surprised when Peter stuck around and made friends with James and John and then moved into the tiny room they had open in their house.

"Are you seriously coming with us? I mean, you'll still have a year left at college." It wouldn't be the same without Peter. Simon had such perfect memories of him laughing or praying or walking with JC to a booth in a coffee shop that was decidedly less corporate than this one.

He liked his room in with James and John. They were easy to live with and the three of them just got on well. He had his own room and could clean up after himself and paid his bills, so things went well enough. It was better than being alone, honestly.

"I am." That much he was certain about. "I can always come back and complete college but this? This... this is something special. I want to be on the ground floor when it starts. I want to see more of the world and do something good in it, you know? It's got to be something more than just a job or money or all of that! Besides... I know you know it, but JC is something special. You're something special."

The last few words slipped out, mumbled, before he even really thought about it.

"I'm not a damned thing," Simon laughed, breaking off another piece of the cookie as he turned back to face the street. "Seriously. Nothing at all. One day, maybe. I have dreams that this is going to mean something and I'll get to be a better person. I keep thinking that we are really going to change the world. I... Believe in him."

It seemed ridiculous to say. It was a confession that the aloof, arrogant Simon had never told anyone before.

"I believe I'll be good because of him and that I'll find the things I've been missing most in life. If I try really hard. I just keep on slipping, Pete. Isn't that sad?" He brushed the crumbs off of his jacket, blue eyes looking bluer from the dark makeup around his lashes. "Shit, do I sound really dumb right now? You're allowed to laugh at me."

"No!" It came out louder than he intended, but Peter's eyes were firm on Simon, his expression quite serious as he looked into those beautiful blue eyes. "You are good. You're with him, doing something bigger than yourself. You're about to go out with all of us and do something even bigger. A chance to get your voice, all of our voices, out into the world and making a difference. You've got the courage to do that where a lot of people don't. You're not perfect but none of us are!"

Peter hadn't even noticed when he'd grabbed onto Simon's forearm and had a tight grip. "You should believe in him. I do. I believe in you, too."

Well colour Simon confused. Peter was always a little bit on the soft side and he'd never seen such intensity in those baby blues before. It made Simon grin. "One thing you don't ever have to worry about is about that." He let Peter hold onto his arm, it wasn't like he could hurt the leather, and took another sip of his greatly diminishing coffee-like frozen beverage.

This was probably why JC had picked Peter. He was so... Wholesome, yes, but also incredibly passionate.

"We could work on our self confidence together. How about that?"

Hearing Simon talk about needing to work on his self-confidence was almost like a blow to the back of the head it left him so stunned. To his eyes, Simon had always been the picture of self-confidence! Was... it just hiding all this other stuff behind it? Peter slowly let go, brows coming together as he thought about it. That grin though... did he need to be more confident to get Simon to smile at him like that?

"Yeah. ...Yeah." He brought up a smile, and the smile stayed as he finally cracked open his cookie, digging in with relish. That happier feeling in his chest had nothing to do with the sugar but now with an idea in the back of his mind. He was going to find a way to help Simon with his confidence.

...But how?

Poor Pete was going to have his work cut out for him. Simon never showed any cracks (minus the small one he gave a hint at today) and therefore, trying to get inside the overly hair sprayed shell was going to take some work and effort on Peter's part. They finished their cookies for now and dropped their empties in the bin. Simon once again made sure that Peter had his helmet on (and helped him with the strap) before driving him home.

Where Simon stayed was a little bit of a mystery. Peter had never been there. In fact, no one actually had. He always just drove off towards the city, but that could really be anywhere.

"See you tomorrow, Pete?" He had a date of sorts to get ready for after all.

Peter nodded, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had plans racing. None of them very good plans, but plans nonetheless. If he was going to help Simon, try to repay him back for saving his life and on top of that maybe try to earn some respect out of him, it was going to take every bit of effort he could manage. The problem was, the more he thought about it, the less he realized he knew about Simon Zealotes.

That had to change. But how?

"See you tomorrow!" He called over to Simon on his cycle, giving a quick wave, and watched him drive off. Peter didn't immediately go inside, standing on the sidewalk as he thought. First... he needed to find out where Simon lived and what he did when they broke up at the end of the day. That... wasn't going to be easy. He chewed on his nail, then decided on the easiest thing first. Check the internet. Maybe he could get some ideas there.

Or, you know. Google Simon up.

Simon was a bit internet famous in the area. But probably not in the way most people wanted to be. The club he used to work out still had his head shot on their site and the gallery had photographs of him taken during sessions with the faces of his clients blacked out.

His dominance was not debateable but there for everyone to see. Right along with his bare ass cheeks.

There was also a hit for a local BDSM website and forum that came up, which probably gave Peter a little too much information on Simon. Clients of his and those who had watched play during open sessions, discussed Peter's friend and savior in all sorts of intimate details. There was even an appreciation thread for the tattoo he had on the inside of his thigh.

Edited 2017-02-10 13:17 (UTC)

Peter, who was hidden in his room with not only the door locked by a chair up and under the doorknob, was tucked up in his bed and blushing a brilliant crimson as he looked at this private part of Simon's life. ...He hadn't even known Simon had a tattoo there. He stared at the pictures of Simon, all muscles and slicked skin, looking like a god among mortals in those photos, but then the BDSM thing had almost killed him in sheer embarrassment to discover. Was- was that what Simon was doing every night? Going to do this stuff?

He put his laptop to the side eventually and groaned into his knees, his mind and body a raging sea of total confusion, total embarrassment, and total arousal. What was wrong with him that he was even looking this stuff up!? Surely Simon wanted this to remain a private world apart from his friends in the Twelve, right? Right? He didn't understand how someone who had the confidence to let pictures be taken like that, to participate in such things, could have the kind of low self-confidence he heard at the Starbucks.

How could he help? It wasn't easy to think when his body definitely had reacted to some of those pictures. Did Simon want to feel like the stuff he was doing was okay or... did he want out of it?

He lifted his head and looked to the screen. If he wanted to help, he had to learn, right? Peter bit his lip so hard it almost bled, trying to make a decision, before he swallowed. He could do this for a friend.

Twenty minutes and a shower later, Peter was slipping out the door, looking for a taxi to take him into the city. There was a pair of clubs he needed to find.

Which was all long before Judas and Simon had plans to meet up. Judas had himself ready on time, wondering for the tenth time where he had even ended up with the leather corset wrapped around him, with black jeans, boots, and a tee shirt under to match the lot. Makeup done, wallet tucked in his front pocket instead of the back for safety's sake, he almost looked like he belonged in a club. Really, the whole thing was just an excuse to go out, get a little drunk, and forget the weirdness that had been the previous 24 hours with JC.

Had Simon known what Peter might do, he would probably have warned him away from doing more than a little Internet surfing. He wasn't ashamed of himself or his former life, but he certainly didn't want to get poor Peter involved in this mess. He'd be eaten up alive at Simon's old club. Or learn more than he really ought to from the people that still worked there.

He wasn't thinking about Peter though or the trouble he was causing at the club already when he stopped by to pick up Judas. He couldn't help but comment at his outfit (he was wearing red linen and black leather himself). "Is all of this for me or are you hoping to catch someone better?"

He leaned against the bike with the helmet, just watching Judas approach. He was older than him but so damned attractive.

It was a shame he was more vanilla.