morrobay1990: (Default)
[personal profile] morrobay1990
Title: All-American Boy, Part 2
Author: [livejournal.com profile] morrobay1990
Genre: Jack, before
Warning: No sex
Word count: 1630
Disclaimer: Jack & Ennis are AP's.
♥ Jack



Inspiration: All-American Boy, Steve Grand




Last time:

They sat back in their seats, Jack turned facing Chase, suddenly sober and making a conscious effort to remember every second.

“Hey, you okay?”

Chase lowered his head, not meeting Jack’s eyes, voice soft, the blend of that and Jack’s own feelings making his heart break.

“Think we could go somewhere?”














All American Boy part 2 8-17-13






Voice low, Jack said, “Yeah…I think so…I mean I think I know somewhere…drive back to the fairgrounds, one a the barns in back…it’s empty.”

Chase started the truck and put it in gear, staring ahead, and made his way the few miles to the fairgrounds, and Jack told him where to turn in.

“Kill the lights.” Chase did, and let the truck roll to a stop, the only sound was of the keys rattling against each other.

Jack put his hand on the door handle but was stopped short of opening it as Chase closed the distance between them, hand on Jack’s neck, pulling him in to kiss.

They were both seventeen, both ready for whatever was going to happen but Jack didn’t want it to happen here. He moved back, “C’mon…but be quiet, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case they got a night watchman walkin around.”

Jack got out and slowly shut the door, while Chase immediately forgot the warning and slammed his, then started to laugh uncontrollably, Jack said “Asshole! I told you to…”

Then they were both running for the barn, laughing because of the situation, because of the beer they’d drunk, because for the moment, their hard lives were forgotten…they were having fun.

The barn was dark, lit only by the tall pole lights flanking the rodeo arena a hundred yards away where the closing ceremonies were taking place…honor guard and cowboys, bronc and bull riding champs, reining and roping winners all taking their victory laps.

Empty of horses but full of alfalfa and bedding straw available to rodeo contestants who trailered their roping and reining horses to the fairgrounds to compete, bales stacked in stalls and overflowing into the aisle at one end, the barn was the perfect blend of escape and comfort…a place that held things - sights, smells, textures - that they knew and loved…all that was familiar…that familiarity easing their path into uncharted territory.

The two boys made their way to the end of the aisle…Jack, feeling the full effect of alcohol that he was unused to drinking, and reacting to the good feelings, the lightheadedness, the artificial sense of freedom, grabbed Chase by the shoulders, pushed him up hard against a stall door, kissed him...Chase responded to this thing he’d been wanting and wondering about for so long…arms hard around each other, mouths open,…giving, taking…equal partners in this exchange…this crossing over into the unknown…this opening up of themselves as they never had before…this wanting…this need never acknowledged to anyone…maybe not even entirely to themselves.

It was a fire inside. They both felt it and wanted to put it out… the kisses were violent…rough skin against hard muscle…fingers fumbling at buttons and snaps and zippers…getting closer and closer to knowing for sure…closer to release…closer…

“Hey! Who’s in here?”

They stopped.

It was harder to rein in their out-of-control breathing than it was to ride to the buzzer, but they knew what was at stake, so did what they had to do…they hid.

Chase quietly pushed open the stall door that they had just been up against in their glorious high of beer and male hormones, and they stationed themselves in a corner behind a stack of alfalfa, then watched as a beam of flashlight spread in front of the stall…they ducked back and waited.

Footsteps…bootsteps…clomped to the end of the aisle, light shining from side to side but the boys didn’t see it from behind the bales…then the footsteps stopped.

“Damn kids…”

But the watchman wasn’t really interested…long as he did his rounds, he got paid… he didn’t see anything. The footsteps receded.

They waited, ears straining for any sound of the man returning, but all was quiet.

Chase spoke first, “Shit. That was close.” He slid down the wall until he was sitting on a soft bed of hay and straw, then he looked over at Jack.

Jack was more shaken up, his beer high gone in an instant…but he looked at Chase and felt such a sense of relief…they weren’t caught…maybe…

He sat down, now pissed at the watchman, pissed at coming so close and then losing the whole feeling, the whole thing…and he wanted it back.

“Shit, if it wasn’t for that fucker…” he lay down with his head in Chase’s lap…maybe…

Maybe his wish would be granted…he was glad to feel Chase relax back against the wall, head tilted back, fingers in Jack’s hair, other hand rubbing his chest, said “Damn…scared the shit outta me.”

He took a deep breath, looked down at Jack. “You lose it, too?”

“Shit, who wouldn’t after that?” But he settled into the welcoming lap, shifting his head, moving to a comfortable place…shrugging into the warmth that didn’t move away.

“You smoke? Oh, forgot…don’t smoke don’t chew…right? Daddy says…”

“Aw, gimme one…been smokin since I left home, he don’t gotta know.”

Jack raised up and shook a cigarette out of the pack, flicked the lighter and held it up close, watched as the flame caught the paper, then settled back and lit his own, comfortable for the moment but suddenly curious about this boy…this man…“How often you see your folks?”

“Just when I’m in the neighborhood…they’re up in Cody, rodeo gets there pretty regular so I see em couple times a year. They show up when I ride, follow me to rodeos in the area, far as they can go where it won’t fuck up the ranch work…they think I’m the best there is…kinda embarrassin…I mean, I’m good…gonna get better…I’m followin the top riders…gonna be right up there with best of em….”

He stopped.

“Your folks folla you on the circuit?”

Jack answered before he let himself think about how it would be to have his parents…his father…give a shit about what he did.

“Gotta keep the ranch goin.” Even as he said it, he wished all was different…but knew better than to wish.

“You mean they never come to see you?” The thought struck Chase as foreign…why wouldn’t parents want to see their son ride, compete, win? Or even lose…why wouldn’t they want to be there to cheer or commiserate?

Jack sat up, then got to his feet, the lap of comfort he’d been in seemed suddenly unwelcoming.

“Don’t matter to me…anyway, what’s it gotta do with you?”

He was starting to wish he’d just gone back and slept in his truck instead of going to that bar….which led to beer…which led to talking to a stranger….

“Got nothin to do with me, just askin.” Chase stood and faced Jack, both men defiant for reasons they didn’t really understand.

“Well don’t ask.”

Jack took the first swing, didn't pull his punch, it connected with Chase’s chin and sent him spinning backward.

Chase staggered at the impact and dropped to one knee, head down, hand to his face to feel for anything broken…then anger, confusion and adrenaline combined and surged into his balled up fist, an uppercut screamed through the air and caught Jack squarely in the stomach.

For a second, Jack stood staring at Chase, then fell to his knees, rolled onto his back, then curled up on his side, arms folded across his belly, trying to shove the pain back in.

Chase dropped his arms to his side, breathing heavy, heart hammering in his chest…then the adrenaline evaporated and concern took over.

“Jack…you okay? I’m sorry…it just…I just…are you okay?”

Jack tried to quiet his breathing, tried to accept the pain…told himself, even at this stage of the fight, that it was ok, it was a draw…but his body couldn’t throw it off that fast and he found himself crawling to the corner of the stall, sick to his stomach, and everything came up.

He moved away, pushing straw over the mess, using the last of his strength, it eaten up by drink, excitement, fear, confusion…he lay there, his mind blank, wishing he was anywhere else.

“Jack.”

Jack was quiet, there wasn’t anything to say. What had begun as a possibility seemed destined to end as another disappointment.

He got to his feet and left the stall, made his way down the aisle to the entrance where the truck was parked, then stepped outside the barn and in the dim light, saw a hose coiled and hanging on the wall…he walked over and turned on the spigot, waited until it ran for a minute then rinsed the sour taste from his mouth, let the water fill his cupped hand and rubbed the cool wet over his face until he felt better.

He started to make his way back to the stall and met Chase coming down the aisle.

“Helluva thing.” It encompassed everything that had happened in the hours since they first spoke that night…eating together, drinking, talking…the fear of being caught…the kiss…the fact that they had found each other at all.

Jack lit a cigarette and held it out, “Want one?”

Chase shook his head, but leaned in, and sounding older than his years, and braver even than Jack, said,”Night watchman’s gone…wanna get back to where we were?”

Jack turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the barn, “Took the words right outta my mouth.”





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