Title:  The Deep End
Author:  eponine119
Pairing:  Jack/James 'verse
AU:  Lost
Summary: James fought as hard as he could, but this thing between them wasn't going away.
Warnings: Adult language, graphic sexuality, slash.
Author's notes: It's no secret how much I adore the stories in this 'verse, and I'm so thrilled and flattered that foxxcub, who made this whole thing up, let me participate. Special thanks to her and to halfdutch for reading this and for the encouragement.
Written:  September 9, 2005
Other stories in this universe can be found at jackjames_verse
 

James didn't realize he was keeping an eye out for Jack in the hallway until he actually caught sight of him. He didn't like what he saw.

Jack was kissing somebody. Somebody else. A girl. Jack's hands were thrust into her long, blonde hair. His eyes were closed and he was kissing her with such an intense look of concentration on his face. He seemed lost in it, lost in her.

James could feel the heat rising into his face. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and ducked his head, tearing his eyes away from Jack as he trudged on toward class. Don't look back, he urged himself, don't look back. He decided at the last minute not to make the turn into the classroom. As the bell rang he shoved open the door and sailed out into the fresh air.

He shook a cigarette from the crumpled pack with hands that trembled a little too much for his liking, looking up into the sun and taking a long drag on it before he let himself think at all. The only thought he could pull out of the turmoil writhing inside of him was: Is that what he looks like when he's kissing me?

…

That afternoon before practice he saw them again. The girl was hanging off Jack's arm as he was talking to some of the other guys from the team. James took a good look at her now, taking in the whole picture from a distance. She had a letter jacket wrapped around her, hanging off her shoulders. The length of her slim, tan legs was revealed by the pleated skirt she wore. A fucking cheerleader.

They looked absolutely perfect together. Golden Boy and Homecoming Queen. James's stomach twisted. He remembered Jack telling him that he'd fucked a girl over the summer, tried to tell himself it was no big deal. James knew he should walk away. He could get a girl like that if he wanted to. He even could get that girl, steal her away from Jack. But that wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted Jack. So bad it scared him. They'd let things go on too far, sucking each others' dicks and sleeping in each others' arms. They weren't just playing at this anymore. Or so James thought, till he saw Jack with that girl. This was what you got for caring too much. James already knew that, learned that lesson early on.

He thought he was going to do it, walk away, but instead he found himself standing right behind them, close enough to catch the scent of the sickening perfume the girl was wearing. He could taste it, sour and cloying in his mouth. "Hey, jackass," he said, his voice a little too loud.

Jack turned right into his punch. Then everything happened at once. James's knuckles stung and the girl screamed and the other guys on the team started chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" As other students started to gather around them, Jack looked at James with confusion and betrayal in his eyes. James could hear his heartbeat thudding dully in his ears as he lashed out again.

Then Jack sprang at him, hitting him hard. James tried to hit him back, but Jack didn't let up, not for a second, pummeling James with his fists, driving him backward. James felt his back hit the slick metal of the lockers and for the first time he actually felt afraid. Jack's eyes were pure black, with the kind of rage James lived with every day but never imagined anyone else could feel.

"You had enough?" Jack demanded, yanking hair so his head came up. They were both panting, eyes locked. Jack didn't understand, James could see that.

He hit Jack again. A sucker punch to the stomach, with all the strength he could summon. Jack dropped one arm with a sick groan, wrapping it around himself, and that was James's way in. He hit Jack in the face again, his fist connecting with the pink and still tender spot on Jack's cheek where James knew his old man had hit him. A week ago he'd wanted to fight Jack's battles for him. Hitting Jack hurt more than getting hit ever could.

Strong hands grabbed at him from behind. James struggled to stand his ground, wrenching away to hit Jack again, and then as he was hauled away he turned on his attacker. "Cut it out, Ford!" It was the coach, pulling him off of Jack. The older man shoved him and James didn't care anymore. It was over, it was all over.

He looked back over his shoulder as he got dragged off to the principal's office. Jack stood in the middle of the crowd, breathing hard and red-faced. His eyes were locked on James. Still black and intense but the rage was gone, leaving a kind of emptiness behind.

…

He stood on the sidewalk for a long time in the dark. A dog barking somewhere in the distance was the only sound on the deserted street in front of Jack's house. He stood looking up at the thin sliver of light escaping between the curtains in what he knew was Jack's room.

James wasn't here to apologize. He just couldn't stay away. He kept thinking of Jack's dark eyes and the way Jack felt underneath his fists. The way Jack's fists felt hitting his body. When he glanced up again, the curtains were open wide and someone was silhouetted against the light, staring down at him. He watched the figure turn away from him and knew it was pointless, but James couldn't move.

Then the front door opened and closed silently. Jack crossed the damp lawn. His feet were bare. "What're you doing here?" he asked softly.

James shook his head. A car slid past on the street, its headlights glaring into their eyes for a moment, and James could see the deep bruise on the side of Jack's face. He'd put it there. He felt a sick sort of pleasure at having marked him. He wanted to touch it, to kiss it, to smooth the hurt away.

"Come around back," Jack whispered, leading James to the side gate and into the backyard. Of course he had a pool, James thought, watching the way the black water undulated in the moonlight.

"Aren't your parents ever home?" James asked, looking toward the back of the house.

"They're in bed," Jack said. "On the other side of the house. They won't know we're out here."

"Didn't realize it was that late," James said.

"It's not," Jack replied uncomfortably.

"Oh." James dug his hands into his pockets again, looking anywhere but at Jack's face.

"You get suspended?" Jack asked, sitting down on the cement at the edge of the pool. He put his feet into the water and looked up at James.

"Yeah," James breathed, and sat down next to Jack. Careful to keep a bit of space between their bodies. He could feel the warmth rising from the pool. He reached out with one finger and drew a circle in the water, testing it.

"How long?" Jack asked.

"Long enough. Bet you never been suspended, huh, Prep?" James said and saw Jack flinch ever so slightly at the nickname. Good, he thought, and tightened his smile a little more.

"Why," Jack said, and it was more of a plea than a question.

"It felt good," James replied, lifting his head so his hair fell back. He watched the way it caught Jack's eye and for a second he could see it again, Jack's hands buried in that cheerleader's hair. "Didn't it?"

"No," Jack said, and James's eyes slid away. Jack's hand shot out and caught him by the chin, holding his head steady and forcing him to look into Jack's eyes. James shook his head to get free but Jack held him, fingers digging into his jaw just enough to hurt. "You've got a black eye."

"Congratulations," James sneered, and when Jack's gaze dropped to his mouth he could feel it. Quivering heat spreading through him. He flicked his tongue across his lips, lingering for a second on the salty-coppery twinge where his lip was split. Jack watched that too.

"My dad started asking questions," Jack said, releasing James's jaw and looking away, toward the house. James studied his profile, outlined in the dim light. Watched the way his forehead wrinkled and he blinked the shine out of his eyes. "Who I'm thinking of taking to the prom, that kind of thing." He shrugged. "She was there."

"Show her your tattoo yet, Golden Boy?" James asked, his voice low and silken. They both knew it wasn't really what he was asking.

"Maybe a little," Jack admitted, and James tried to laugh but couldn't. "It's not like she means anything to me," Jack added, and looked at him in a way that made his heart jump in his chest and his mouth go dry. This time Jack didn't look away. His eyes were as dark as the warm water in the pool, mesmerizing James, holding him still as Jack moved in closer, until they were breathing the same air.

"Doesn't have to mean nothin'," James pointed out. He could feel his heart beating in his throat.

Jack kissed him then and James started to close his eyes and relax into it, but then he remembered. He wanted to see him. So he kept his swollen eyes open in the darkness as Jack's tongue worked against his. He didn't look the same at all.

They were both gasping when Jack broke the kiss. His hands had closed over James's biceps where they were exposed by the thin t-shirt he was wearing. Jack's hands against his skin made him feel the cold that had soaked into him without his noticing. "You're freezing," Jack murmured.

"Warm me up," James breathed, pushing his mouth against Jack's again. This time he shut his eyes, desperate for this closeness. Wanted to get closer; couldn't. Jack seemed just as desperate, wrapping his arms around James's back, rubbing with one splayed hand in time with the thrusting of his tongue. He half-ended the kiss, nibbling on James's lower lip, and Jack's hand slipped down, exploring the soft skin of James's lower back where muscle and bone came together to form deep grooves on either side of his spine.

A tiny sound slipped out of him, and Jack just kind of went, "huh," like he thought it was interesting. James shoved his hips into Jack's, and that smug little noise turned into a groan of pleasure that made James grin. "Wait," Jack whispered, moving his leg, trying to get his balance.

"No," James protested, grinding against Jack again, the new angle of the friction sending a hard throb through him. He moved his head, pressing his lips against the hot pulse in Jack's neck. He was terrified, but he had to do this. Had to tell him, confess. He pressed harder against Jack, breathing into his skin. "Gotta tell you something, Jack."

That was when Jack's hand slipped and he couldn't hold their weight anymore and they fell into the pool.

They slipped into the warm water without a splash, almost without a sound. James felt the water close over his head and he was suddenly filled with new panic. The silence of the night had disappeared, swallowed by the pressure and water and the sound of the words he'd almost said ringing in his ears. He didn't know which way was up and he couldn't breathe.

But he was warm. Jack's hands tugged at his shirt and he found the surface. "I've got you," Jack murmured, a fistful of James's t-shirt clutched in his hand as James fought to get his breath back, staring into Jack's eyes. Jack pulled the shirt up over James's head and threw it onto the cement, his own shirt following onto the ground with a wet slap.

James saw the tattoo, mysterious dark ink carved into Jack's arm, and something came over him. He put his mouth against it, wanting to see what it felt like against his tongue, excited by the chlorine mixing with the familiar taste of Jack's skin underneath. Jack's legs tangled with his, some pretense of treading water to keep them afloat in the deep end, but it only aroused him further.

It'd be so easy to give in to it, to get off here and now, and that had to be why James gave the tattoo a final nip and pushed hard off of Jack's body, the buoyancy of the water sending James floating back against the side of the pool. He felt the rough cement edge scrape against his skin and put his arms out to hold on.

A light went on inside the house. "Shit," Jack muttered. He reached for James's head and shoved him down as the scrape of the patio door echoed in the silence.

A faint, droning voice that James couldn't quite make out -- Jack's father. James opened his eyes. The water stung, but he wanted to get a look at Jack's dad. Jack's fingertips worked gently against his scalp even as he held him forcefully under the surface of the water. "Just swimming," Jack said, his voice sounding high and tight with tension.

Jack was holding him down basically at waist level and James couldn't help looking at the way Jack's drenched sweatpants clung to his erection. He put one hand against Jack's thigh, seemingly to anchor himself in the water, and felt the wave of tension flow through Jack. James wondered what would happen if he put his mouth against Jack's crotch the way he had against the tattoo. But he was drowning.

Jack's hands were under his arms, holding him up, and his lungs were burning. "You almost got us caught," he whispered furiously. James could only stare up at his face, pale and damp in the darkness. "He would have killed us both."

Those words sent an icy shiver through James, a tremor hard enough for Jack to feel. James didn't want to think about that now, not here in Jack's safe comfortable world where such a thing was just a figure of speech and not reality. James's eyes burned from the chlorine and he raised his hands to rub them, remembering his black eye too late, after the heel of his hand ground painfully against his cheekbone.

He reached for Jack, hand slipping easily under the elastic waist of the sweatpants. There was no underwear underneath, just wet cotton fleece and Jack. James wrapped his hand around Jack's hard cock and listened to him choke back his moan. The water made everything slippery and strangely rough, no matter how gentle James tried to be. Jack buried his face against James's neck, teeth gnawing at the spot where it met his shoulder, his breath and ragged cries absorbed by James's skin.

He reached for James as he was getting close, wanting to reciprocate, but James knocked his hand away even though he was hard and aching for Jack's touch. This was to make up for the fight. This was because he had to, because he couldn't imagine his life anymore without Jack in it, even though he was bewildered by what that meant.

Jack came, shuddering and trembling. He yanked on James's hair and kissed him, their bodies sliding against each other. The kiss was short, lips grazing lips. James couldn't bear any more than that and Jack's eyes were dark and drowsy from the late hour and the orgasm and the warm water.

Jack climbed out of the pool first and stood by the edge long enough to slip out of his pants, gloriously nude in the moment it took him to seize one of the bath towels tossed onto a lawn chair and wrap himself up in it.

James got out of the water reluctantly. The night air was shockingly cold after the warmth of the water and his wet jeans were uncomfortable enough even without his dick standing up against them. Jack reached for him, to take care of both problems, and James took a step back and away. "'s okay," he hissed.

"No," Jack murmured a protest.

James dodged him again and looked him in the eye. "I don't care if you keep seeing her," he said. He could convince Jack, even if he couldn't convince himself. It was better this way.

Jack shook his head, confusion narrowing his eyes. "That's done."

"No," James insisted, but he knew Jack didn't understand. "You're the golden boy," he whispered into Jack's ear. "You do what you have to do."

"James," Jack said as James slipped away, scooping up his shirt. "Don't do this."

"It's better," James said, pulling his t-shirt over his head and trying not to feel anything.

"I said it was done," Jack repeated, serious now. He tried to grab James, who was determined not to let him. They struggled, an elbow connecting with James's ribs, a foot smacking Jack's knee, but Jack overpowered him and shoved him down onto the grass. "Stop being such an asshole, Ford," Jack said, holding him down.

The grass tickled and itched against his neck and where his shirt had gotten hiked up. "You'd do the same if it was me," James said, knowing full well it would never be him. Nobody cared who James Ford dated or if he dated at all. He could fall off the fucking planet and Jack would be about the only person who'd notice.

"No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't let you go," Jack said, forcing his tongue into James's mouth to stop the argument. James kissed him back hard. Jack's hand found him, almost ready to come at the first confident slide of Jack's fingers. His orgasm came fast and rough and he screamed into Jack's mouth without making any sound at all.

Jack rubbed James's stomach while his breathing was still ragged and all he could do was stare. "What were you going to say?" Jack asked. Thinking he could get an answer while James was lying here all soft and vulnerable.

He was wrong. James closed his eyes and turned his head away. Lied: "Don't remember."

"Mm." The knowingness of it made James's eyes open again, but Jack avoided his eyes. He fastened up James's jeans and tugged his shirt back down, the movements perfunctory rather than caring until he ran his fingers through James's tangled hair. "You can't go home like this," Jack said.

"I'm fine," James said, getting to his feet and finding his knees were shaky.

"Come inside," Jack said.

James shook his head. "Your daddy."

A crease settled on Jack's forehead. He knew James was right. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, giving in but only just a little bit.

James chuckled. "Suspended, 'member?" He watched Jack's frustration and consternation grow.

"I will see you," Jack declared. Eyes blazing.

"Yeah," James said softly as he turned to go. Wishing he was strong enough to do the right thing. "Yeah, you will."


End.