Fic: Worth The Wait
Jan. 31st, 2010 10:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
csi_sanders1129Title: Worth The Wait
Chapters: Part 1: Chapter 2/2 – Only Option
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
csi_sanders1129
Genre: AU. Drama. Romance.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~3,300
Pairings/Characters: Jason/Spinelli.
Synopsis: Spinelli’s parent’s show up in the middle of the night and some of Damian’s secrets are inadvertently exposed, leaving Jason in a difficult situation.
Comments: AU in that I entirely distort the timeline of events as it is known to have occurred. Not so much actual events, but moreso the details of people involved in them. Which reminds me. I suppose I have to warn for mentions of underage involvement. Nothing graphic or messy, I promise. Partially co written withcynical_sweater and with lots and lots of aid courtesy of suerum. OC’s are mine, recognizable characters are not. Reviews are loved. Enjoy!
Part I: Chapter 1 – Trouble 1 |
Now situated quite unwillingly in the passenger’s seat of one of the cars belonging to the Corinthos-Morgan Organization, Jason stares intently at his swelling hand because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself in control otherwise.
Spinelli, in the driver’s seat, en route to General Hospital, keeps shooting him concerned and perplexed looks out of the corner of his eyes that aren’t helping matters either. Jason should be the one shooting him concerned looks.
Even the mere thought of what Spinelli told him. That his college roommate knew how old Spinelli actually was – all of 14 at the time - and slept with him anyway… Jason automatically curls his hands into fists and immediately regrets it when the pain shoots through his injured hand.
Think of something else, he tells himself. So he does.
“We need to…” It’s hard to say, but it has to be done. Spinelli’s parents are still around, he’s sure, and likely plan to make good on their totally valid threat of police involvement. “Keep our distance from each other.”
The wide-eyed, mouth agape look returns to Spinelli’s face just as he pulls into a parking space in front of the ER. Then it’s gone, replaced by one that’s part anger and part heartbreak and Spinelli is scrambling to exit the vehicle as he slams the gearshift into what might or might not be ‘Park’.
“Spinelli, wait-“ Jason tries to stop him, but isn’t fast enough.
***
“So, why were you punching walls out?” Robin asks, as she goes about disinfecting the cuts on Jason’s hand while they wait for the imaging results.
Jason, stoic and silent as ever, is as stoic and silent as ever when he chooses not to answer. His eyes wander to Spinelli, who’s seated as far away from Jason as he can be while still within the confines of the curtained triage area.
Realizing she’s not going to be getting an answer from Jason, she looks to his protégé. “Spinelli, why is Jason punching walls?”
But, Spinelli remains silent as well, which is a strange enough occurrence even before Jason’s actions factor into the equation.
“Alright, what is going on between you two?” The younger of the two flinches, as if the question is a physical attack. Jason sighs and prods at his now well numbed hand.
“Let it go, Robin.” Under normal circumstances, she would push the issue. But something in Jason's voice, and Spinelli's posture gives her pause. She holds her clipboard to her chest and forces a professional smile.
“Of course. I apologize.” Of course, behind her facade, she's quietly plotting and scheming. After all, as a doctor, it's her sworn duty to keep those from harm and injustice. And, clearly, in her medical opinion, this miscommunication is a harmful injustice. Her grin never wavering, Robin turns to Jason. “So, let's talk about your hand.”
***
Robin sighs to herself as she leans against the counter of the nurse's station. She drums her fingers on the stack of clipboards next to her, and exhales again. Jason isn't the most forthcoming of friends – which more than often makes her question their delicately balanced friendship – but there's something else about him tonight. Something about him and Spinelli that has her frowning.
She turns around; bracing her elbows on the counter, and buries her head in her hands. "If anyone needs me," she says suddenly to the nurse working the desk, "I'll be in the cafeteria." The nurse pauses in her phone conversation to make eye contact and nod. Robin gives her a forced smile as she ducks into the elevator. When dealing with a crowded hospital, one must perfect their skills of ducking and sneaking about.
Spinelli is where she expects him to be: sitting listlessly at a table, rotating a half empty (no one's in a half full kind of mood) bottle around the circumference of its base, staring into the glass as if it holds all the answers. Her heart softens, just a little, and she tucks her hands deep into the pockets of her lab coat.
"Hi, Spinelli," she greets quietly as she slides into the seat next to him. He glances at her, and goes back to twisting his fingers around the neck of the bottle. "Rough night?"
He nods, but his previous unnerving silent streak continues.
Robin frowns and props her elbows up on the table. “Did you and Jason get in a fight?” She tries, since, judging by their attitudes and the distance Spinelli had been keeping, it certainly seems plausible as an explanation.
“I suppose that could define some of what occurred within the last several hours.” He answers solemnly, taking a long swig of his soda.
That’s progress. An actual answer. “You wanna tell me what about?”
Spinelli bites his lip. “Stone Cold would likely prefer it if I were to do no such thing.”
“Come on, Spinelli. As one of very few people who know what’s going on between the two of you, you know you can trust me.” She tries, playing her usual card when they don’t tell her things she deems necessary to know. “Maybe I can help.”
“Perhaps you are correct.” He considers, and pauses for a long moment before he lets out a deep sigh. “Very well. It’s just that Stone Cold is not reacting how the Jackal predicted he would. It was hardly any fault of his. The blame lies solely on the Ace of Cyberspace, for it was my lie of omission that created this rather unfortunate situation in the first place. And…”
"Spinelli," Robin interrupts, laughing not unkindly. "I can only help you if I can understand you." He sighs and closes his eyes, clearly ready to give up on explaining his plight. "Come on, Spin. Tell me what's wrong."
"I... may have exaggerated my age, a little bit." His words are hesitant and plain, and Robin can't help the frown darkening her usually bright features.
"How... old are you?" She's almost scared to ask, because there's something about him that's she just now seeing. A youthfulness – a broken innocence – in his eyes, that makes her shake her head very suddenly. "No, don't tell me. If... I'd have to report it."
Spinelli lets his head fall to rest against the cool material of the table. “This has all snowballed out of control.” He says, sounding very much like the teenager he very much is, like the innocent and naïve teenager he should be. “The Jackal never intended his simple untruth to go to such a harmful extent. And now Stone Cold…”
“Jason isn’t taking this well, I can imagine.” She nods in understanding. Jason and lies that spiral out of control do not mix well, as she is well aware. “It… it’s not that bad, right?” Or so she hopes, because Spinelli cannot tell her otherwise. “He’ll come around.”
But, the hacker shakes his head, using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “I… sorry.” He says, standing to throw away the rest of his drink (even orange soda isn’t cheering him up) and taking his leave.
***
Jason is just escaping the likes of the medically inclined ones and all their unwanted tests when Spinelli spots him. His hand is set and casted already, and there’s a bottle of pills in his pocket that he’s not going to take. “You ready to get out of here?” The elder asks, and just for a second it seems like everything’s normal.
But, Jason’s logical and totally legitimate rules are still in play. Instead of walking beside Jason, maybe with one of his arms tossed casually over Spinelli’s shoulders, the younger hangs back, not even looking as he follows after his not-lover.
It’s not until they’re safely in the car that the awkward silence breaks. “I don’t… like this anymore than you do, Spinelli. But we have to do this.”
Spinelli understands. He does. Really. They can’t, simply cannot, be together right now. According to the letter of the law, the last eight months never should have happened. But, they did. And Spinelli wouldn’t trade them for anything – except maybe actually being the age he’d claimed to be. “I know.”
“Okay.” Jason nods, glad that they agree on that.
***
Jason was supposed to have a meeting sometime this morning, but he cancels it. That and every other engagement he’s had set up for the next few days. Spinelli far outranks anything that could be discussed at shipment inventories and route planning consultations.
The penthouse seems… strange now. As if it has picked up on their awkward avoidance of each other and allows the tension to hang in the air like some sort of unrelenting fog. The guest room – the pink room which had previously been Spinelli’s – seems stuffy and unwelcoming. But, Jason takes it upon himself to sleep in there, not having the heart to kick Spinelli out of their room, their bed.
It hardly matters. Neither of them can sleep, anyway.
Idly, Jason is wondering how on earth he’s supposed to fix this huge mess – he can’t even sleep without Spinelli beside him, how can he deal with everything else? – when the bedroom door creaks opens and the younger man – boy, Jason mentally corrects – appears.
“Stone Cold?” The voice is hesitant, something he hasn’t heard directed at him from Spinelli in a long while.
He’s not facing the door, so he rolls over. “Can’t sleep either?” Spinelli nods in affirmation and despite the fact that it’s the last thing he should be doing, he lifts the covers in silent invitation. His mind screams at him – he should be telling Spinelli that this can’t happen, they’ll just have to deal until they get used to sleeping apart again – but his heart silences his mind. It’s just sleep, after all.
Spinelli climbs into bed with him, looking all kinds of relieved at not being pushed away. He curls into Jason’s chest, like he always does, and on instinct, Jason’s arms curl around him, like they always do. After a couple moment of awkward positioning of limbs, Jason’s good hand shifts its way under Spinelli’s t-shirt, where it always seems drawn to.
“This is the last time, okay? After this, we sleep apart.” Jason insists, because their proximity is way beyond any explainable bounds at this point and he’s already trying to steel himself for when that happens because apparently Spinelli has a much tighter hold on him than he’d originally believed. He can’t even go a few hours without wanting, needing this closeness. Too weak, too dependent. He can’t seem to resist.
What he doesn’t know is that Spinelli is having similar thoughts. He can’t stay here – not if he’s going to have to fight this all the time. Knowing that Jason will be just down the hall, just out of his reach and that he is now longer allowed to simply go fall into his lover’s arms. No more joint showers or waking up to Jason pressing kisses against his neck.
Maybe, if he talks to his parents, they won’t go after Jason for what they think he’s done.
For now, though, it can wait. If this is the last chance he gets to sleep wrapped up in Jason’s arms, he’s definitely not going to ruin it by divulging his plans.
He relaxes in the familiar feel of warm arms around him, and the hand settled on his hip, and drifts off not long after Jason’s breathing evens out, as well.
***
The knock on the door seems exponentially more terrifying compared to when they didn’t have a damning secret to hide. Jason’s up and out of bed in a matter of milliseconds, heading down the stairs, but he stops at the door.
It could be Spinelli’s parents, here for another round. It could be Spinelli’s parents with the police with a warrant for his arrest.
“Jason, damn it, open up.” Sonny’s voice breaks the silence and he does as ordered, opening the door once he unfreezes himself. “Jeez, what happened to you?”
His eyes land on the thoroughly bandaged hand. “I, nothing.”
Sonny raises an eyebrow. “You get in a fight or something?”
“Only with the drywall.” He shrugs it off, pretends like it wasn’t important. Like it wasn’t a result of life changing news. “What do you want?”
“To know why you bailed on the meetings today. I can’t have my enforcer going flakey on me in the midst of that up and coming group of thugs.” The thugs in question were a gaggle of leaderless mobsters who suddenly seemed to be taking an interest in Corinthos-Morgan territory. “What’s going on?”
Jason shrugs. He’s not going to tell Sonny anything about the situation with Spinelli. Sure, he knows they’re together – telling him that had ended Sonny’s verbal and occasionally physical attacks against the hacker – but he doesn’t need to know this.
“Just some issues with-”
Spinelli appears at the bottom of the stairs looking resigned to his fate as he cuts Jason off. “The Jackal will be returning to his humble hometown of Oakfield to stay with the parental ones for a brief while due to an unexpected... situation.”
This is just as much news to Jason as it is to Sonny. He doesn’t even care that this was supposedly their reasoning for cancelling meetings, he’s not letting that slip by unquestioned. “You’re what?” Jason all but demands.
Spinelli glances to Sonny – they can’t discuss what they need to discuss with him here. Things like ‘If I go voluntarily, maybe they won’t drag you through court and you won’t end up in jail, convicted of statutory rape’ won’t go over well, he imagines.
Sonny can sense, and for once he acts with tact, that he’s interrupted something serious, so he mumbles some excuse and says he’ll call Jason later about rescheduling the get-together over the newcomers and takes his leave.
Jason’s in front of Spinelli a second later. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“It’s the only way likely to dissuade the parental ones from going after you, Stone Cold. If I agree to return to Oakfield with them without any further argument, perchance they won’t involve the police. All they saw was a single kiss last night.” Was that really only last night? “They have no evidence to suggest that we’ve done anything more.”
He’s right and Jason knows it, but that hardly means he has to like it. A long moment passes, just with fixated staring, as the elder contemplates life without Spinelli.
“It’s the best solution to a situation that has come about through my own lies of omission and fabrications.” Spinelli continues on with Jason’s silence.
“I know.” Jason says. “That it’s the best solution.” He steps away, paces for a few moments before he can get his mind and mouth to cooperate with each other again. “I… the second that you turn 18, I’ll come and get you. Bring you home, assuming that you want to come back with me.”
Spinelli shakes his head because there’s no doubt in his mind on that front. “I’ll want to come home, Stone Cold. I can guarantee that.” His gaze lands on his laptop, running on the desk by the door, and he motions Jason over to it. “I suspect that my parents will not approve should we try to contact each other, so might I suggest a more… diabolical method of communication?”
Communication will be an issue. It’s unlikely that anything he sent to Spinelli via postal service wouldn’t be intercepted by his parents at some point. Which, by default, makes the realm of cyberspace, Spinelli’s specialty, a much safer alternative. “Show me what to do.”
“There is a simple cipher that will keep us thoroughly protected in whatever we should choose to speak of in any messages. It involves the use of a password as means for unscrambling the code, called a Vigenére cipher.” He pulls up a website that does the coding automatically. “If you enter the codeword -shall we use ‘stonecold’ for our purposes? - and then type a message, you can then simply email the coded result and I can unscramble it using the same codeword.”
Jason nods. Simple enough, even for his less than stellar knowledge of technology.
Jason sits on the couch and Spinelli curls up beside him and once again everything seems normal for the briefest of moments. But then Jason hands Spinelli the phone and he watches, holding tight to the boy he won’t see again for close to sixteen months, as he dials his parent’s cell numbers. Finally, he gets a hold of his father, learns that they’re staying at the MetroCourt, and then explains his compromise. He’ll go with them if they don’t mess with Jason. They agree – they just want their son back - and they assure him that they will arrive to pick him up in no less than an hour.
“They’ll be here in but 60 minutes.” Spinelli reports, sadly. He has to pack, has to change into something other than a bedraggled t-shirt and pajama pants, but he can’t bring himself to escape from Jason’s hold on him.
Their time has ticked away in the silence, they’re down to twenty minutes when Jason finally unwinds his arms from Spinelli’s. “Come on, I’ll help.” He says, and leads Spinelli upstairs to the pink room. Some of his stuff is in Jason’s – their – room, but the majority of his clothes are still in the migratory process.
They pack methodically, and in silence. And if a couple of Jason’s t-shirts find their way into Spinelli’s suitcase and if a few of Spinelli’s remain tucked away in the dresser in the pink room, neither mentions it. Spinelli’s laptop is packed – with his back-up left for Jason.
“That everything?” Jason asks, surveying the room. He can always mail Spinelli anything he requires, of course, but he doesn’t want Spinelli’s parents thinking he’s trying anything by doing so. Spinelli nods, and changes quickly, not even bothering to leave the room to do so – Jason’s seen him enough times and the fact that he’s now several years younger than he had claimed previously makes him no more shy around his not-lover.
Clad now in jeans and one of Jason’s black shirts, with a red and grey hoodie to hide it, he nods. “Affirmative.” He declares, biting his lip.
There’s a knock at the door, but Jason has one last thing to do before he lets Spinelli walk away from him.
He tugs at the fabric of the hoodie, leveraging Spinelli closer. He curls his arms around Spinelli’s smaller frame, holds tight for as long as he dares to with the impatient couple just downstairs, and drops his head to press his lips against Spinelli’s one last time before they part ways, age difference be damned.
Spinelli kisses back and tries to claim a second when Jason pulls away, but the attempt fails, and Jason’s hands land on his shoulders instead. There are words unsaid between them, but they stay that way because as of yet they never have been spoken aloud – and this, right now, when Spinelli is leaving, doesn’t seem like a good time to start.
“I’ll write you soon.” Jason promises, and turns his back on the door that Spinelli walks though. He stays there, doesn’t go downstairs to see him off, stands there in the pink room as the chatter downstairs turns into silence he’s going to have trouble getting used to. He considers punching another wall, but figures Spinelli wouldn’t approve, so he doesn’t.
Chapters: Part 1: Chapter 2/2 – Only Option
Author:
csi_sanders1129 Genre: AU. Drama. Romance.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~3,300
Pairings/Characters: Jason/Spinelli.
Synopsis: Spinelli’s parent’s show up in the middle of the night and some of Damian’s secrets are inadvertently exposed, leaving Jason in a difficult situation.
Comments: AU in that I entirely distort the timeline of events as it is known to have occurred. Not so much actual events, but moreso the details of people involved in them. Which reminds me. I suppose I have to warn for mentions of underage involvement. Nothing graphic or messy, I promise. Partially co written with
cynical_sweater and with lots and lots of aid courtesy of suerum. OC’s are mine, recognizable characters are not. Reviews are loved. Enjoy!Part I: Chapter 1 – Trouble 1 |
Now situated quite unwillingly in the passenger’s seat of one of the cars belonging to the Corinthos-Morgan Organization, Jason stares intently at his swelling hand because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself in control otherwise.
Spinelli, in the driver’s seat, en route to General Hospital, keeps shooting him concerned and perplexed looks out of the corner of his eyes that aren’t helping matters either. Jason should be the one shooting him concerned looks.
Even the mere thought of what Spinelli told him. That his college roommate knew how old Spinelli actually was – all of 14 at the time - and slept with him anyway… Jason automatically curls his hands into fists and immediately regrets it when the pain shoots through his injured hand.
Think of something else, he tells himself. So he does.
“We need to…” It’s hard to say, but it has to be done. Spinelli’s parents are still around, he’s sure, and likely plan to make good on their totally valid threat of police involvement. “Keep our distance from each other.”
The wide-eyed, mouth agape look returns to Spinelli’s face just as he pulls into a parking space in front of the ER. Then it’s gone, replaced by one that’s part anger and part heartbreak and Spinelli is scrambling to exit the vehicle as he slams the gearshift into what might or might not be ‘Park’.
“Spinelli, wait-“ Jason tries to stop him, but isn’t fast enough.
***
“So, why were you punching walls out?” Robin asks, as she goes about disinfecting the cuts on Jason’s hand while they wait for the imaging results.
Jason, stoic and silent as ever, is as stoic and silent as ever when he chooses not to answer. His eyes wander to Spinelli, who’s seated as far away from Jason as he can be while still within the confines of the curtained triage area.
Realizing she’s not going to be getting an answer from Jason, she looks to his protégé. “Spinelli, why is Jason punching walls?”
But, Spinelli remains silent as well, which is a strange enough occurrence even before Jason’s actions factor into the equation.
“Alright, what is going on between you two?” The younger of the two flinches, as if the question is a physical attack. Jason sighs and prods at his now well numbed hand.
“Let it go, Robin.” Under normal circumstances, she would push the issue. But something in Jason's voice, and Spinelli's posture gives her pause. She holds her clipboard to her chest and forces a professional smile.
“Of course. I apologize.” Of course, behind her facade, she's quietly plotting and scheming. After all, as a doctor, it's her sworn duty to keep those from harm and injustice. And, clearly, in her medical opinion, this miscommunication is a harmful injustice. Her grin never wavering, Robin turns to Jason. “So, let's talk about your hand.”
***
Robin sighs to herself as she leans against the counter of the nurse's station. She drums her fingers on the stack of clipboards next to her, and exhales again. Jason isn't the most forthcoming of friends – which more than often makes her question their delicately balanced friendship – but there's something else about him tonight. Something about him and Spinelli that has her frowning.
She turns around; bracing her elbows on the counter, and buries her head in her hands. "If anyone needs me," she says suddenly to the nurse working the desk, "I'll be in the cafeteria." The nurse pauses in her phone conversation to make eye contact and nod. Robin gives her a forced smile as she ducks into the elevator. When dealing with a crowded hospital, one must perfect their skills of ducking and sneaking about.
Spinelli is where she expects him to be: sitting listlessly at a table, rotating a half empty (no one's in a half full kind of mood) bottle around the circumference of its base, staring into the glass as if it holds all the answers. Her heart softens, just a little, and she tucks her hands deep into the pockets of her lab coat.
"Hi, Spinelli," she greets quietly as she slides into the seat next to him. He glances at her, and goes back to twisting his fingers around the neck of the bottle. "Rough night?"
He nods, but his previous unnerving silent streak continues.
Robin frowns and props her elbows up on the table. “Did you and Jason get in a fight?” She tries, since, judging by their attitudes and the distance Spinelli had been keeping, it certainly seems plausible as an explanation.
“I suppose that could define some of what occurred within the last several hours.” He answers solemnly, taking a long swig of his soda.
That’s progress. An actual answer. “You wanna tell me what about?”
Spinelli bites his lip. “Stone Cold would likely prefer it if I were to do no such thing.”
“Come on, Spinelli. As one of very few people who know what’s going on between the two of you, you know you can trust me.” She tries, playing her usual card when they don’t tell her things she deems necessary to know. “Maybe I can help.”
“Perhaps you are correct.” He considers, and pauses for a long moment before he lets out a deep sigh. “Very well. It’s just that Stone Cold is not reacting how the Jackal predicted he would. It was hardly any fault of his. The blame lies solely on the Ace of Cyberspace, for it was my lie of omission that created this rather unfortunate situation in the first place. And…”
"Spinelli," Robin interrupts, laughing not unkindly. "I can only help you if I can understand you." He sighs and closes his eyes, clearly ready to give up on explaining his plight. "Come on, Spin. Tell me what's wrong."
"I... may have exaggerated my age, a little bit." His words are hesitant and plain, and Robin can't help the frown darkening her usually bright features.
"How... old are you?" She's almost scared to ask, because there's something about him that's she just now seeing. A youthfulness – a broken innocence – in his eyes, that makes her shake her head very suddenly. "No, don't tell me. If... I'd have to report it."
Spinelli lets his head fall to rest against the cool material of the table. “This has all snowballed out of control.” He says, sounding very much like the teenager he very much is, like the innocent and naïve teenager he should be. “The Jackal never intended his simple untruth to go to such a harmful extent. And now Stone Cold…”
“Jason isn’t taking this well, I can imagine.” She nods in understanding. Jason and lies that spiral out of control do not mix well, as she is well aware. “It… it’s not that bad, right?” Or so she hopes, because Spinelli cannot tell her otherwise. “He’ll come around.”
But, the hacker shakes his head, using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “I… sorry.” He says, standing to throw away the rest of his drink (even orange soda isn’t cheering him up) and taking his leave.
***
Jason is just escaping the likes of the medically inclined ones and all their unwanted tests when Spinelli spots him. His hand is set and casted already, and there’s a bottle of pills in his pocket that he’s not going to take. “You ready to get out of here?” The elder asks, and just for a second it seems like everything’s normal.
But, Jason’s logical and totally legitimate rules are still in play. Instead of walking beside Jason, maybe with one of his arms tossed casually over Spinelli’s shoulders, the younger hangs back, not even looking as he follows after his not-lover.
It’s not until they’re safely in the car that the awkward silence breaks. “I don’t… like this anymore than you do, Spinelli. But we have to do this.”
Spinelli understands. He does. Really. They can’t, simply cannot, be together right now. According to the letter of the law, the last eight months never should have happened. But, they did. And Spinelli wouldn’t trade them for anything – except maybe actually being the age he’d claimed to be. “I know.”
“Okay.” Jason nods, glad that they agree on that.
***
Jason was supposed to have a meeting sometime this morning, but he cancels it. That and every other engagement he’s had set up for the next few days. Spinelli far outranks anything that could be discussed at shipment inventories and route planning consultations.
The penthouse seems… strange now. As if it has picked up on their awkward avoidance of each other and allows the tension to hang in the air like some sort of unrelenting fog. The guest room – the pink room which had previously been Spinelli’s – seems stuffy and unwelcoming. But, Jason takes it upon himself to sleep in there, not having the heart to kick Spinelli out of their room, their bed.
It hardly matters. Neither of them can sleep, anyway.
Idly, Jason is wondering how on earth he’s supposed to fix this huge mess – he can’t even sleep without Spinelli beside him, how can he deal with everything else? – when the bedroom door creaks opens and the younger man – boy, Jason mentally corrects – appears.
“Stone Cold?” The voice is hesitant, something he hasn’t heard directed at him from Spinelli in a long while.
He’s not facing the door, so he rolls over. “Can’t sleep either?” Spinelli nods in affirmation and despite the fact that it’s the last thing he should be doing, he lifts the covers in silent invitation. His mind screams at him – he should be telling Spinelli that this can’t happen, they’ll just have to deal until they get used to sleeping apart again – but his heart silences his mind. It’s just sleep, after all.
Spinelli climbs into bed with him, looking all kinds of relieved at not being pushed away. He curls into Jason’s chest, like he always does, and on instinct, Jason’s arms curl around him, like they always do. After a couple moment of awkward positioning of limbs, Jason’s good hand shifts its way under Spinelli’s t-shirt, where it always seems drawn to.
“This is the last time, okay? After this, we sleep apart.” Jason insists, because their proximity is way beyond any explainable bounds at this point and he’s already trying to steel himself for when that happens because apparently Spinelli has a much tighter hold on him than he’d originally believed. He can’t even go a few hours without wanting, needing this closeness. Too weak, too dependent. He can’t seem to resist.
What he doesn’t know is that Spinelli is having similar thoughts. He can’t stay here – not if he’s going to have to fight this all the time. Knowing that Jason will be just down the hall, just out of his reach and that he is now longer allowed to simply go fall into his lover’s arms. No more joint showers or waking up to Jason pressing kisses against his neck.
Maybe, if he talks to his parents, they won’t go after Jason for what they think he’s done.
For now, though, it can wait. If this is the last chance he gets to sleep wrapped up in Jason’s arms, he’s definitely not going to ruin it by divulging his plans.
He relaxes in the familiar feel of warm arms around him, and the hand settled on his hip, and drifts off not long after Jason’s breathing evens out, as well.
***
The knock on the door seems exponentially more terrifying compared to when they didn’t have a damning secret to hide. Jason’s up and out of bed in a matter of milliseconds, heading down the stairs, but he stops at the door.
It could be Spinelli’s parents, here for another round. It could be Spinelli’s parents with the police with a warrant for his arrest.
“Jason, damn it, open up.” Sonny’s voice breaks the silence and he does as ordered, opening the door once he unfreezes himself. “Jeez, what happened to you?”
His eyes land on the thoroughly bandaged hand. “I, nothing.”
Sonny raises an eyebrow. “You get in a fight or something?”
“Only with the drywall.” He shrugs it off, pretends like it wasn’t important. Like it wasn’t a result of life changing news. “What do you want?”
“To know why you bailed on the meetings today. I can’t have my enforcer going flakey on me in the midst of that up and coming group of thugs.” The thugs in question were a gaggle of leaderless mobsters who suddenly seemed to be taking an interest in Corinthos-Morgan territory. “What’s going on?”
Jason shrugs. He’s not going to tell Sonny anything about the situation with Spinelli. Sure, he knows they’re together – telling him that had ended Sonny’s verbal and occasionally physical attacks against the hacker – but he doesn’t need to know this.
“Just some issues with-”
Spinelli appears at the bottom of the stairs looking resigned to his fate as he cuts Jason off. “The Jackal will be returning to his humble hometown of Oakfield to stay with the parental ones for a brief while due to an unexpected... situation.”
This is just as much news to Jason as it is to Sonny. He doesn’t even care that this was supposedly their reasoning for cancelling meetings, he’s not letting that slip by unquestioned. “You’re what?” Jason all but demands.
Spinelli glances to Sonny – they can’t discuss what they need to discuss with him here. Things like ‘If I go voluntarily, maybe they won’t drag you through court and you won’t end up in jail, convicted of statutory rape’ won’t go over well, he imagines.
Sonny can sense, and for once he acts with tact, that he’s interrupted something serious, so he mumbles some excuse and says he’ll call Jason later about rescheduling the get-together over the newcomers and takes his leave.
Jason’s in front of Spinelli a second later. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“It’s the only way likely to dissuade the parental ones from going after you, Stone Cold. If I agree to return to Oakfield with them without any further argument, perchance they won’t involve the police. All they saw was a single kiss last night.” Was that really only last night? “They have no evidence to suggest that we’ve done anything more.”
He’s right and Jason knows it, but that hardly means he has to like it. A long moment passes, just with fixated staring, as the elder contemplates life without Spinelli.
“It’s the best solution to a situation that has come about through my own lies of omission and fabrications.” Spinelli continues on with Jason’s silence.
“I know.” Jason says. “That it’s the best solution.” He steps away, paces for a few moments before he can get his mind and mouth to cooperate with each other again. “I… the second that you turn 18, I’ll come and get you. Bring you home, assuming that you want to come back with me.”
Spinelli shakes his head because there’s no doubt in his mind on that front. “I’ll want to come home, Stone Cold. I can guarantee that.” His gaze lands on his laptop, running on the desk by the door, and he motions Jason over to it. “I suspect that my parents will not approve should we try to contact each other, so might I suggest a more… diabolical method of communication?”
Communication will be an issue. It’s unlikely that anything he sent to Spinelli via postal service wouldn’t be intercepted by his parents at some point. Which, by default, makes the realm of cyberspace, Spinelli’s specialty, a much safer alternative. “Show me what to do.”
“There is a simple cipher that will keep us thoroughly protected in whatever we should choose to speak of in any messages. It involves the use of a password as means for unscrambling the code, called a Vigenére cipher.” He pulls up a website that does the coding automatically. “If you enter the codeword -shall we use ‘stonecold’ for our purposes? - and then type a message, you can then simply email the coded result and I can unscramble it using the same codeword.”
Jason nods. Simple enough, even for his less than stellar knowledge of technology.
Jason sits on the couch and Spinelli curls up beside him and once again everything seems normal for the briefest of moments. But then Jason hands Spinelli the phone and he watches, holding tight to the boy he won’t see again for close to sixteen months, as he dials his parent’s cell numbers. Finally, he gets a hold of his father, learns that they’re staying at the MetroCourt, and then explains his compromise. He’ll go with them if they don’t mess with Jason. They agree – they just want their son back - and they assure him that they will arrive to pick him up in no less than an hour.
“They’ll be here in but 60 minutes.” Spinelli reports, sadly. He has to pack, has to change into something other than a bedraggled t-shirt and pajama pants, but he can’t bring himself to escape from Jason’s hold on him.
Their time has ticked away in the silence, they’re down to twenty minutes when Jason finally unwinds his arms from Spinelli’s. “Come on, I’ll help.” He says, and leads Spinelli upstairs to the pink room. Some of his stuff is in Jason’s – their – room, but the majority of his clothes are still in the migratory process.
They pack methodically, and in silence. And if a couple of Jason’s t-shirts find their way into Spinelli’s suitcase and if a few of Spinelli’s remain tucked away in the dresser in the pink room, neither mentions it. Spinelli’s laptop is packed – with his back-up left for Jason.
“That everything?” Jason asks, surveying the room. He can always mail Spinelli anything he requires, of course, but he doesn’t want Spinelli’s parents thinking he’s trying anything by doing so. Spinelli nods, and changes quickly, not even bothering to leave the room to do so – Jason’s seen him enough times and the fact that he’s now several years younger than he had claimed previously makes him no more shy around his not-lover.
Clad now in jeans and one of Jason’s black shirts, with a red and grey hoodie to hide it, he nods. “Affirmative.” He declares, biting his lip.
There’s a knock at the door, but Jason has one last thing to do before he lets Spinelli walk away from him.
He tugs at the fabric of the hoodie, leveraging Spinelli closer. He curls his arms around Spinelli’s smaller frame, holds tight for as long as he dares to with the impatient couple just downstairs, and drops his head to press his lips against Spinelli’s one last time before they part ways, age difference be damned.
Spinelli kisses back and tries to claim a second when Jason pulls away, but the attempt fails, and Jason’s hands land on his shoulders instead. There are words unsaid between them, but they stay that way because as of yet they never have been spoken aloud – and this, right now, when Spinelli is leaving, doesn’t seem like a good time to start.
“I’ll write you soon.” Jason promises, and turns his back on the door that Spinelli walks though. He stays there, doesn’t go downstairs to see him off, stands there in the pink room as the chatter downstairs turns into silence he’s going to have trouble getting used to. He considers punching another wall, but figures Spinelli wouldn’t approve, so he doesn’t.
