Taking Names
by Utopian Trunks
Part 5
Rating: NC-17
Words: 10,898
Thanks: to Saki and Generic Miko for beta-reading.
Disclaimer: As in Previous Part.
John's alarm clock went off like the klaxon of Armageddon at seven. He slapped a hand down on the bells, shut it off, then called the station and left a message with the graveyard shift that he was taking a sick day. He curled himself back around Matt, who merely shifted and grumbled in his sleep, and remained blissfully unconscious until noon.
He rose, in more ways than one, to Matt leaning over him, kissing him. John snaked an arm around the kid's neck and pulled him down to lie sideways across his chest. Matt's eyes closed as John brushed his hair back from his face. John continued stroking his head and face two-handed. He watched the play of contentment and pleasure across Matt's face in the soft light streaming in through the windows, stained gold by the aged Venetian blinds. That knot in John's chest was still there--it'd been wound too tight to unravel overnight--but he could feel it loosen.
"Mmh," Matt sighed. "I did two weeks without this. Do you have any idea how hard that was?"
"Some," said John. "Now, I'm going to feed you before you collapse."
"Mm, no, don't stop," Matt said, stretching his neck after John's retreating hands. "I ordered something online. If they're not here in--" he opened one eye to look at the clock--"thirty-five minutes, then delivery's free."
John resumed his attentions and Matt resumed basking in them. "How long you been up?"
"'Bout as long as it took me to do that on my phone. Five minutes-ish."
"You really are handy."
"Mmm, I know," Matt purred. "And I'd so get handy with you if I'd had my coffee."
"No rush. You're not going anywhere for a while, are you?"
"Dunno if I ever wanna go anywhere again."
John liked that answer for now. Later, Matt had a career to think about, but that could wait until well into the new year. "Suits me," he said.
Matt yawned, stretched, and liquefied over him. "'S'good t'be back," he said.
"Maybe now you can stop talking like the FBI's listening to every word you say."
"You noticed that, huh?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, aren't they?"
"Oh, yeah, but you can't let that bother you."
"It doesn't bother you?"
"Nah."
"You're a cop."
"So that's what the shield in my pocket's for. I was wondering."
"John--"
John shrugged. "Eh. It does piss me off that they're conducting illegal wire taps, but they've been nose deep in my business since Nakatomi Plaza, and I had to get used to it. Most of the time, it doesn't make a difference; I'm not gonna run into the people running surveillance on me. Thing is, unless you move out to North Dakota and get yourself a cabin somewhere in the middle of the woods, you can't work it so that no one knows what you're doing. I don't like people badgering me, but I'm not gonna change to make 'em happy, either."
Matt shook his head. "That's a lot easier to say when you're an action hero, I guess."
"Maybe," John admitted. "Most people who don't like you aren't gonna hunt you down with machine guns." Matt lifted his eyebrows emphatically. "Hey, you've already been kidnapped, beaten up and shot, you can't really be sweatin' the small stuff, anymore."
"I'm not ready to be your understudy, yet, but point taken. Mmmm," Matt added, as John ran his fingers down to his neck and began massaging. Matt dropped his forehead onto John's chest to give him better access. John kept working his neck with one hand and started on his shoulders with the other. Matt groaned. "Oh, damn, John, maybe you shouldn't... This feels a little too good."
John ran a hand down Matt's side to his hip. "No law saying you can't come once before breakfast. I'll do ya nice and easy. Your blood sugar'll never know."
Matt shivered. "If I can do you, too."
"Nah, gonna wait," John said. "After you've eaten."
Another shiver rippled through Matt's body. "Don't say any more. Hands back in safe areas."
"Sure?"
"Yes. If you're waiting, I'm waiting." John went back to his massage and Matt sighed. "I already owe you one, anyway."
"Don't tell me you're counting."
"No, but... that one was pretty memorable."
Always good to hear. "So," John said, "you and Freddie, huh?"
"Hmeh?" Matt's voice came out muffled; his breath made a warm spot through John's pajama shirt.
"Word is you two had a 'thing.'"
Matt's head came up, one eyebrow ratcheted above the other. "A thing? Did he tell you that? That jackass..."
"Is it true?" John kept his tone neutral and kept up his massage.
Matt snorted. "Depends on what you mean by 'thing.'" John lifted his eyebrows to prompt him. Matt huffed out a breath and continued, "I ran into him online in college. We played in one of the same MUDs--that's sort of a role-playing thing--and messed around on some of the same forums. We started exchanging e-mails and PMs, and got to know each other. He ended up taking me on as a Padawan learner kinda thing." The corner of Matt's mouth twitched, then he caught John's eye and grinned. "I thought you were more of a Star Wars guy?"
"Uh..."
"He sorta made me his apprentice. Showed me some of his work, critiqued mine, gave me advice, set me challenges, told me where to look for good information. I think he wanted someone to show off to who would really appreciate how good he was."
"Did you?"
"Yeah," Matt sighed. "I still don't measure up."
"You're twice the hack boy he is."
"You're just rooting for me 'cause I'm the one you're sleeping with."
"I doubt our pal Freddie could've done what you did on the fly, with a gun to his head, or running through Wood Lawn."
"You tryin' to get me to sleep with you before breakfast?"
"'Zit workin'?"
"Mm, you're close... But if I do, I'm not gonna finish answering your question."
"Damn. Alright."
"Well..." Matt turned his head, leaning his cheek against John's chest. "Something started... developing. You know, how you kinda start feeling like there's something a little more than friendship going on?"
"In e-mails?"
"Yeah, and chats." Matt flushed. "Look, bear with me--you know I'm a geek. It's amazing I managed to deal with you without a computer terminal in between us."
John pushed a knuckle into a knot in Matt's back, and Matt's eyes narrowed as he pushed his shoulder back into it. "Would've been a lot less fun," John said.
"Mmmm," Matt agreed.
"Alright, so, something was happening." And then you saw his picture, John thought. He stopped and gave himself a mental shake. Wasn't he a little old for petty jealousy? Well, clearly not, if he'd bothered to ask.
"Yeah," Matt said. "I guess it's pretty sad, but I was totally blown away by his skills. I was kind of a fanboy. I..." He put his forehead down again. "Please don't laugh. I was nineteen, okay?"
"Okay." Yeah, alright. John was jealous. He tried to keep it out of his voice.
"And besides the skills, I felt like he understood me. Like he'd had the same kind of life I had--minus the time in Juvie. And I kinda picked up that he was interested in me, and not too many people ever had been, and the fact that my fuckin' guru of hacking might actually be interested in me, well..."
"Uh-huh."
Matt lifted his head a bit. "So... A few less than subtle things started popping up in our e-mails. Video chatting was coming in--nowhere near as good as now, of course--and I finally scrounged up enough to buy a webcam, and we decided to meet face-to-face. Well, y'know, face-to-screen-to-face."
"Right." Okay, John thought, remember what you were thinking about the new girlfriend not wanting to know about the old one? Boy, are you an idiot.
"We met up at the time we'd set, started the video, and... Well, I dunno if he just didn't turn his on, but my camera started transmitting before his did. About three seconds later, he logged off, and I didn't see him online for a month. When I did, we just went back to computer and geek talk. We never mentioned any of the other stuff again." Matt took a deep breath and huffed it out. "That's it. That's the story of our thing. It ain't exactly Lord of the Rings."
"So WAR10CK chickened out," John said.
"Whaddya mean?"
"He didn't have the balls to go through with anything. He ran away."
"Go through with what?" Matt asked. "He already knew I was a guy."
"With the stuff you were hinting at in your e-mails."
Matt's brow furrowed. "Balls, nothin'. He got one look at me and fucked off. I think the message was pretty clear."
John looked at Matt, who was flushed again, an unhappy brightness to his eyes. "Aw, kid," he said. He pushed Matt's hair back and held his face in both hands. "You don't get it, do you? For a genius, you really are slow, sometimes."
"What? Get what?"
"Kid," John said gently, "he blew you off 'cause you're out of his league."
"Out of his league?" Matt repeated. "I'm not out of his league. He's a goddamn genius. If anything, back then, he was out of mine!"
John swallowed the unpleasant feeling that rose in the back of his throat at hearing Matt praise someone else like that. Matt was allowed to like and admire other people. He was allowed to have a past--John certainly had more relationships in his own. John didn't like it, but he'd already learned not to let that show. "Matt," he said, "you're not as much of an asshole as most people. I guarantee you, that's what he was thinkin'. Guys who look like him--"
"It didn't matter what he looked like," Matt said tightly.
John sighed. Matt was so clearly hurt that his jealousy took a back seat. "You really liked him, huh?"
"Yeah," Matt said. He looked down and swallowed. "Jesus, it's really awful to be talking to you about this, isn't it?"
"No," said John. "I asked."
"Damn it. You don't know how many years this bothered me. You really think... Seriously, you think that was why?"
"Yeah, I do." John had certainly wondered whether Matt could keep looking past a twenty-six-year age gap, past the face and body of a man who was headed into old age, if he wasn't there, yet.
"Stupid," Matt said vehemently.
They were silent for a moment, Matt's gaze glued to John's collarbone, John watching him. "You know, if you explained--" John started.
Matt's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Whoa-ho-ho no. Don't you start jumping to weird conclusions. I am not with you by default. I am with you because I choose you above everyone else in the world, whether they'd have me or not. You got that?"
John's eyes crinkled with his smile. "No shit?"
"You really are trying to get me to sleep with you before breakfast. No fucking shit. You are it for me. I don't want anyone else. Ever. Under any circumstances. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," John said.
"Don't doubt me," said Matt. "If you're worried about something, you'll ask, right? Not just goddamn disappear."
"Got it. You're the boss."
"Jealous of fuckin' WAR10CK," Matt growled. "Must be outta your fuckin' mind. He doesn't even begin to compare to you."
"But he's a genius, right? Digital Jedi."
"Yeah," said Matt. "And that used to be enough. The night you and I met, just before you knocked on my door, I was online with him. He'd gotten wind of what was happening to the other people involved on the ground level of Gabriel's scheme. Know what he told me?"
"What?"
"Things were 'bad.' 'Get disappeared.'" John's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. If you hadn't walked in exactly when you did, there wouldn't've been enough left of me to identify. I am so over the guy who would've left me to die. The one who not only saved my life, but made it worth living?" Matt kissed him. "He wins. You win."
John wrapped his arms around Matt and rolled them over. He ran a hand down Matt's side, over his stomach and between his legs. Matt's cock hardened in his hand and Matt gasped. "You are making this really difficult," John rumbled in his ear. "Are you sure you don't wanna go once, first?"
Matt bit his lip and pushed half-heartedly at John's shoulders. "No, wait..." The doorbell rang. "There, look, it's here... Mmh."
John gave Matt's cock another pull. "Fuck 'em..."
"Ah, yes... I, I mean, no..." Matt squirmed out from under him, breathing fast. "Jeez. Okay. Phew. Just a second." He rolled off the bed, snagged his bathrobe off the back of the door, and padded out of the room. John planted his head in the pillow and groaned. He had to remember Matt wasn't going anywhere for a while. No rush. No rush.
The smell of coffee preceded Matt into the room and John sat up straight. Matt entered with a paper bag and a cardboard holder supporting two tall cups of coffee. He handed John the coffee, shimmied out of his bathrobe, and went around to slide back under the covers on his side. He opened the bag, releasing the savory aroma of fresh, hot bread. "See," he said, "you know this is the cultural capital of the world because we have delivery bagels." He handed John a wax-paper wrapped bundle. "I said I'd feed you properly when I got back. I know this is a lazy start, but..."
John caught his hand and pulled him in for a kiss. "What'd you get me?"
"Cream cheese and ham."
"Read my mind." John unwrapped his, a generous helping of each topping sandwiched between two halves of the bagel. "Good choice for your first breakfast back in New York."
"There's probably a law."
"There is. It's only a misdemeanor if you break it, but still."
They sat shoulder to shoulder as they ate, passing condiments, sipping coffee. That knot unfurled further. John was well aware of his own distaste for eating alone--after growing up eating dinner with his family, it seemed like the hallmark of a failed life--but after just a fortnight, it seemed he'd forgotten exactly how good it felt to eat with Matt. It was nothing special, just bagels, cream cheese and coffee... and Matt's leg alongside his under the sheets, a nudge or a poke when Matt wanted something, or just because he was close enough to do it. It had been hard to quantify the easy familiarity of Matt passing him a napkin before he asked for it and brushing his thumb over John's knuckles as he did, the companionship and affection in all the little gestures, like brushing crumbs from the corner of John's mouth or bumping John's shoulder with his own to punctuate a comment.
"Y'know something weird?" Matt asked, enunciating clearly around a large chunk of raisin bagel.
"What?"
"They were really nice to me at immigration."
"In England?"
"No, they were kinda grumpy. Not evil, but insufficient caffeine grumpy. No--at immigration at Dulles."
"Nice?" John repeated.
"Yeah. I'd never been through immigration before, and after what happened on the way out, I figured they might toss me in a cell for a while before they let me through, maybe a little water-boarding for good measure." John grimaced and nodded. "But the guy just took my passport, tapped something into the computer, said, 'Welcome back, Mr. Farrell,' and waved me through."
John raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"
"Yeah. Everyone else was taking longer, even the other US citizens. Don't they usually ask you questions?"
"Uh-huh. Especially lately, with all the extra security."
"I guess they don't care as much if you're not getting on a plane, but still..."
"Huh," said John, frowning pensively. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up.
Matt was rooting in the bag for the chive cream cheese bagel, so he didn't see John's expression. "Probably back to the strip-search for me the next time I fly. I've heard domestic flights're even worse."
Bowman, John thought. Maybe you're not so bad, after all. Aloud, he said, "Guess we'll see. Coulda been a computer glitch. Gotcha off the list."
Matt looked up at him wide-eyed. "Dude, I wouldn't do something that stupid."
"No, I meant a real glitch. Or... something."
"Homeland Security doesn't have glitches like that. Not unless..." Matt shivered. "I'm smelling prison mattresses just thinking about this shit. Let's not talk about it."
"Right," John said. "Hey, gimme a piece of that chive one."
They finished breakfast and crammed the cups and paper bag into the little waste basket without getting out of bed. They settled back in, pulling the covers up to their chests. Matt put an arm around John's waist and curled into his side. John looped an arm around his shoulders.
"Matt," John said.
"Yeah."
"Matt."
"Mmhm?"
"I want you to build me a computer."
"Hmwhat?"
"With... at least two gigs of processing power, a gig or more of RAM, a high-end graphics card and a decent sound card. Something that could do a little basic rendering. And... at least five USB ports, front and back, and a firewire connection."
Matt pushed him to arm's length with both hands and stared at him. He laughed. "Get the fuck outta here. Who told you to say that?"
John snorted. "Your cute friend."
Matt's eyebrows rose. "You think Galileo's cute?"
"Cuter of the pair I've met. She's got nothin' on you, though."
Matt averted his eyes, flushing slightly. "She's got a couple things on me."
"They don't compare, kid."
Matt looked back at him, eyes crinkling with his smile. "Yeah?"
"Goddamn right."
"Yeah, well, she doesn't know what she's talking about."
"What, about the computer?"
"No, about me, if she thought I'd like it when you said that."
"Her exact words were, 'that'll get his hard drive spinning.'"
Matt laughed. He ran his hands over John's cheeks, around the back of his head. "God, that's horrible. No. No, no. I like my John McClane neat. Straight up, no ice, not shaken or stirred. The real thing only." He kissed John deep and slow. "Accept no substitutes."
There was no way to respond to that. Not aloud. John pushed Matt onto his back and kissed him again, ran his hands up under his pajama shirt. "Sure you don't wanna build that computer?" he asked.
"It does sound like a nice box," Matt said. "You would have absolutely no use for it. A nice iMac would do you just fine. Or, y'know, a calculator. Or an Etch-a-Sketch."
John snorted. He reared over Matt to look into his eyes, tweaked one of his nipples. Matt gasped and grabbed John's shoulders. "You're not in a real strong position to be makin' fun of me, kid."
"Who's making fun? Nice things, Etch-a-Sketches. Virus-free, intuitive OS..." He shuddered as John rolled his nipple between thumb and forefinger.
"I told you I got cozy with your computer. Learned all about the chat program. Velocity, right? What was that word? It's leet?"
Matt grimaced. "No. No, wrong context."
John ran his hands back down to Matt's waist. Matt's dick twitched against his. John tugged down Matt's collar to expose his throat. "That's right. Figured out which program to use to pone. Useful for all that canned corn we got stocked up."
"Iiiiiiick, stop!" Matt squirmed, laughing as John nuzzled his neck. "You're doing it on purpose!"
"Nah, I'm computer-savvy, now. I even found the retractable cup-holder."
"Noooo!" Matt wailed, flailing helplessly. "I'll have nightmares about you using my computer. You barbarian!"
John lifted his head to look at Matt. He rolled his hips against the kid's and Matt gasped again. John smiled. "I may not be up on the technology," he said, "but I've got you right where I want you, don't I?"
Matt took a slow breath. "Mmm, you do. All the brains in the world and you..." He stretched his arms over his head. "Got me."
John ran his hands up Matt's arms to capture his wrists and kissed him slowly, tongue delving deep. Matt moaned into his mouth. When John pulled back, Matt's half-lidded eyes were smoldering, dangerous. His arms strained and John leaned back to release him.
"No," Matt said. "Hold... hold me... down. Keep me here."
John put his weight back on Matt's wrists and the kid made a small, appreciative sound. "I got you," John said.
Matt's eyelids fluttered. "Yes," he groaned. His deep, throaty tone made John's dick throb. He stacked Matt's wrists one over the other so he could pin them with his left hand. With his right, he stroked Matt's cheek, his throat, flattened his palm over Matt's heart, where he could feel the thump of his heartbeat, speeding even as John lingered there. He opened the buttons of Matt's pajama top one by one, trailed his fingers down over the skin as he exposed it. He threw open the shirt and ran his hand back up over warm, smooth skin. Matt arched into his touch, eyes closed. His eyebrows angled upwards in that familiar expression of almost quizzical concentration when John's fingers returned to his nipple.
John's chest tightened. He dropped his head to kiss Matt's throat. Matt's moans vibrated against his lips, rang sweet and heady in his ears. God, he'd missed this. He couldn't rank what had been hardest to do without--waking up beside Matt or coming home to find him, talking over dinner, or not talking while Matt worked, the curve of his back or the soft dip of his stomach, the way his cheeks flushed or his lips trembled when John touched him. All of it--every part of him and his presence had become essential to John. Touching him now was like the first taste of water after a year in the desert.
John rose over Matt and ground their hips together. The thin cloth between them did little to dampen the thrill of Matt's erection against his. Matt gasped and raised his hips to meet him. John undid his own shirt, then pushed down both their pants and ground down again, their naked cocks sliding together.
"John," Matt whimpered. He shuddered. "John, god..."
John lowered himself over Matt, pressing the full length of his body into his. The feeling of hot, bare skin against skin was delicious. It almost kept him lying there, just savoring it. He nipped at Matt's earlobe and gave Matt's wrists a squeeze, pushing them firmly into the pillow. "Don't move," he rumbled. Matt jerked against him and moaned.
"Okay," he breathed.
John lifted himself slowly, reluctant to leave Matt's heat. He released Matt's wrists and leaned back. Matt gave his hands an extra little push down into the pillow and kept them where they were. He watched John through slitted eyes over the rise and fall of his chest. John nodded at him and rose. He slid his pajama shirt and pants the rest of the way off, then stripped off Matt's bottoms and tossed them aside. He took a nearly-finished tube of lube from the night stand and climbed back onto the bed between Matt's legs. He set the tube to the side, pushed the open shirt up over Matt's arms and dropped it to the floor.
Matt sighed in relief when John took hold of his wrists again. John stroked a hand down Matt's chest, back up. Matt's nipples stood up flushed and erect. John lowered his head to eat at one, drinking down Matt's taste, the rising pitch and volume of his moans. His free hand traveled down Matt's side. He sunk his fingers into the firm swell of Matt's ass, then moved on, stroked up the trembling muscles of Matt's thigh, lifting his knee. Matt's body rolled against him, his arms flexing against John's grip. John caught Matt's earlobe with his teeth again, eliciting a shiver. "You're mine, Matthew," he said.
The response to that shuddered through Matt's entire body. "Yes," he whispered. "John, yes."
John grabbed the tube, twisted the cap off one-handed and squeezed a line of gel into his palm. He hesitated a second, thinking to warm it, but Matt lifted his knees high on either side of him and made a deep, needy sound in his throat. When John's first finger entered him, he threw his head back and cried out, "More, John, please..."
John obliged him, pushing in two, then three fingers, till he was fucking into Matt with them, Matt writhing helplessly between his trapped hands and the point of penetration, panting open-mouthed. He looked so good like this, so sexy, so perfect, John could hardly stand it. His cock was weeping, aching hard; he was dying to be inside. Matt rocked down onto his fingers, moaning, his own cock flushed dark and every bit as hard as John's. John took pity on them both. He pulled out his fingers and hooked his arm under Matt's left knee, pulling his hips up.
"Matthew," he said. Matt's eyes opened, lust drunk and shining. John lined up his cock at Matt's entrance and pushed in just the head. Matt's mouth opened wider, his chest swelling. "You," said John. He pushed in halfway. "Are." The muscles of Matt's leg trembled against his arm. "Mine," John growled, and thrust deep, seating himself inside. Matt arched under him, driving himself down onto John's cock.
John pulled back, lifted Matt's leg higher, hoisting his hips for a better angle, and drove in again. "Mine," he said.
"Yes," Matt gasped.
Too long without. John's control was shot. He thrust in hard and fast, and whenever he doubted, thought it might be too rough, Matt was driving back against him even harder, begging for more, deeper. Matt's eyes were screwed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration. The muscles in his arms and shoulders stood out sharply as they strained against John's grip. His stomach, folded by the angle at which John held his hips, trembled with exertion. His whole body gleamed with sweat.
Matt tossed his head to throw his hair out of his eyes--that gesture, John had missed it so much--and opened them through the tendrils that remained stuck to his forehead. "John--" His voice broke. He swallowed and his eyelids fluttered as another thrust rocked him. "Don't let me go. Don't..."
"Not gonna," John said. "This's where you belong. You can leave just so long as you come back. Just so long as you remember..."
"I belong to you." Matt whispered it like a prayer.
It was a weighty trust, but John couldn't think of refusing it now. He wanted all of Matt, every part, always. Fuck caution, fuck consideration, and fuck anyone who didn't like it. "That's right," he said. He pulled Matt's leg up, curling him over till he could reach his lips, and kissed him. "Not gonna let you forget it."
Matt's muscles tightened around John's cock and he moaned desperately into the kiss. John pushed into him once, twice more, and Matt was coming, sobbing out an incoherent cry. John wanted to stay in the moment, Matt beneath him, glowing with his orgasm, his body hot and pliant in relaxation, but he was already over the edge, and there would be more. There would be more.
He lost himself to that thought. The world sharpened, focused in to the point where all that existed was him and Matt, joined. And then it all rushed through him.
He stroked Matt's arms as he released him. Matt sighed, eyes closing, stretching into his touch.
"You okay?" John asked. He rolled onto his side and Matt rolled with him, curled into his chest.
"Mmmhmm," he said. He kissed the spot on John's collarbone where his mouth had landed. "That was a good welcome home." He pressed his forehead against John's chest. "That... what you said..."
John stroked the back of Matt's head and tilted it up so he could meet his eyes. "You believe me, now?"
Matt looked at him for a long moment before answering. There was something painfully vulnerable in his expression. Once your parents disowned you, maybe there was no way you could fully trust anyone. John didn't know how many other people had disappointed Matt. "Yeah," Matt said finally. "I believe you."
John couldn't tell if that was true. He was trained to know when people were lying, and most of the time, Matt was pretty transparent, but everyone had their depths. The toughest parts of Matt to get at were those where he'd been hurt the worst. Even if he'd talk the facts through freely enough, John could tell he was sterilizing them, trying to distance John or himself from the raw emotion attached. John stroked his cheek, kissed him gently. "Good," he said.
Maybe he'd never be done proving to Matt that he wasn't going to abandon him, would never turn him away. If so, he thought, he could live with it. He had no intention of letting Matt down.
* * *
"Alright--your trips to Paris and Italy. Tell me everything."
It was later that night. John was full of beef Stroganoff--a shade past enough--and was stretched out on the couch digesting with an equally full Matt sprawled on top of him. He was warm, sated, and generally felt it was good to be alive. "Whassat?" he asked.
Matt folded his arms on John's chest and propped his chin on them. "You said you'd tell me about your adventures abroad once I got back."
"You first."
Matt poked him in the ribs. John growled half-heartedly and put a restraining hand on Matt's back. "You heard most of the details already," Matt said. "I don't know... I liked it. London's a cool city. It's got most of what New York has in terms of fun and pop culture. Better public transport. The same diversity, but it feels like people are a little less complexed about it--like they expect everyone to be different and don't have to spend so much time drawing lines around each other. The architecture's pretty awesome... The city doesn't stay open as late as New York used to, but right now, the nightlife's in better shape. Hm..." He shrugged. "I saw the sights. I enjoyed them. But I'm from the east coast. I wouldn't really wanna live anywhere else, even if you came with, and not just 'cause I hate flying."
"Just as well," John said. "Moving's a pain in the ass."
"Not if all your shit blows up and all you have to move is yourself."
"That's about what it'd take to get my ass outta here."
"Judging by the fact that you haven't finished your last move in fifteen years, yeah, I buy that. Alright, those were my findings. Your turn."
"You're askin' me to go back an awful long way," John said.
"No one forgets high school, no matter how much they might want to."
"Eh. We went, we tried to speak French to the tour guides and waiters and got laughed at. We saw a whole bunch of cultural shit, and had to listen to teachers droning on about it the whole time. If I'm gonna see something, I wanna see it, not get lectured. I don't like people telling me what I ought t'be getting out of things."
"Mm," said Matt.
John looked at the ceiling, casting his mind back. "I probably didn't appreciate it as much as I should've. I was a seventeen year-old jackass. But I still think it would've been a better trip if we could've tried some shit that wasn't meant for tourists. I don't think the locals spent a lotta time trekking around between the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. What'd people there do for fun? What was their everyday life like? I'm more interested in that than how many oil paintings they can cram into one building."
Matt snorted. "I knew you were including the Louvre in 'all that shit.'"
"Meh."
"Okay, what about Italy?"
"I was a ninteen year-old jackass for that one." Matt grinned. John said, "I enjoyed it more. We had time to ourselves to explore in the cities we visited. We did Rome, Naples and Florence."
"That sounds very edifying."
"Oh, yeah. Like a motherfucker."
Matt snickered. "What class was this?"
"Art History... Renaissance something or other."
There was a pause. "Okay, seriously," said Matt. "What the fuck."
"What, I can't be cultured?"
"I think your description of the Louvre just gave you away. What'd you, need a humanities credit? What was your major, anyhow?"
"English."
"English."
"Yep."
Matt rose onto his elbows to look down at John, one eyebrow reaching for the sky. John held his gaze. "Right, I'm outta here." Matt put one foot on the floor and slid off John. "You're totally a pod person."
"Get your ass back here," John said, grabbing the body part in question to haul Matt back down. He smiled at Matt's wry expression. "It's true. My diploma's somewhere in those boxes, if you don't believe me."
"Oh, that's just gonna be your answer every time you have no evidence."
"I ain't lyin'."
"English."
John raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you do the math, boy genius?"
Matt tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. "What, that major had the fewest credit hours required?"
The corner of John's mouth curved up a little higher. "No, you have all the figures for this calculation." Matt looked blank. "How old am I?"
"What, English was having an American Renaissance that year? The major was super popular?" John raised his eyebrows. Matt glanced briefly upward. "Okay, you were born in 1955. You said you were seventeen for your senior trip, so you went to college in 1972... Oh... No, wait. The draft was still on, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. You got moved down in the lottery if you were going to college, so a lot of us went who weren't really that interested."
"Wow," Matt said. His expression sobered. "The draft. So, you weren't called, right?"
"Nope. Draft was discontinued the next year."
Matt shivered. "What would you've done if you were?"
John shrugged. "Gone. Didn't wanna go to prison. Didn't wanna move to Canada, either--even the east coast. But I wasn't crazy about the idea of going to war, so I went to college. I didn't have anything in particular I wanted to study, so I declared English 'cause I liked reading westerns." Matt laughed and John smiled and flicked his eyes skyward. "Nothing else grabbed me, so I finished it."
"Where'd you go?"
"Brooklyn College. Lived at home to cut costs."
"Did you wanna be a cop, then? You could've done law, or criminal psych, or something."
"I got that into my head my junior year, and it was too late to change. Besides, they wouldn't've let me write papers on Lonesome Dove in criminal psych."
Matt grinned. "So, what made you decide to become the dark knight of Brooklyn instead of a professor of Advanced Cowboy Anthropology?"
"I felt fucked up about avoiding the draft. Plenty of guys from my high school had gone and died. I didn't really buy that they'd done anything for the country, but it bothered me feeling like I was hiding. I thought if I joined the police, I could do what they said we were doing abroad, here at home. Making the world safe... my piece of it, anyway. Not for democracy; just the people on the block. I wanted to do that for someone." Matt watched him, a look in his eyes somewhere between distress and disbelief. "What?"
"You know you do, right?" Matt said. "You know you just fuckin' breathe security, actually make it safe, everywhere you go, don't you?"
John snorted. "Everywhere I go, things blow up and bullets fly, kid. Someone probably oughta be protecting the world from me."
Matt rose up on his hands to glare down into John's eyes. "That's not true. You're always in the middle of it because you run towards the explosions, not away. You could've let me get shot. You could've walked away once you'd delivered me to the FBI. You were off-duty when those other cops called you last week, and you could've let someone else respond. No," he said, when John opened his mouth. "Don't tell me you were just doing your job, and anyone else would've done the same, because they wouldn't. You can't do anything else because that's who you are. You care that other people are scared; it matters to you whether they get home to kiss their kids good night; you don't just walk faster when you hear someone calling for help. Not everyone, not even every cop works that way. You--" John put a finger over his lips to halt the accelerating stream of his words.
"Easy. My head's big enough as it is."
Matt sighed and John transferred his hand to his shoulder. "Not big enough," said Matt, "if you don't know that." John rolled his eyes and Matt huffed. "Fine, you're modest, too. Fuck. Just... you oughta know. You're the guy I wanted to exist outside comic books, all my life. You're the guy I didn't believe could. A real person I could admire. Someone I wanted to strive to be like. Someone I could believe in."
John brushed back the hair falling into Matt's eyes. "You wanna be like me?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
Matt grinned. "I don't wanna forget everything I know about computers and spend the rest of my life in a gym trying to look like you, but, yeah. If I could be half as brave, as noble... Put myself in the line of fire for others the way you do, without hesitating? I'd figure I'd done pretty well."
It was too intense for John. He ran his hands down Matt's back to the swell of his ass. He caressed the denim-sheathed flesh with his thumbs and gave Matt a crooked smile. "If I'm your hero, that mean I get to have my way with you?"
"The answer is always yes," Matt said, low and hot. John flipped him onto his back and rose over him. "I belong to you, remember?"
A while later, they were piled together on the couch, still mostly clothed but for their jeans, because it was damn cold, and John was rocking slowly into Matt. It was unhurried and sweet. Matt was breathing hard, but even. A shallow gasp escaped him every time John seated himself inside, his knees tightening around John's waist, muscles inside clenching around John's cock. His fingers clutched at John's shoulders when John withdrew, as if he were afraid John might not come back in, and then that gasp and sigh of satisfaction each time he did.
"I wouldn't've let them take you," Matt said.
"Mm?"
Matt wrapped his arms around John's neck and pulled him closer. "If I'd been there, I'd never have let them draft you."
John kissed his forehead. "You weren't due to be born for another decade, kid."
"I know." Matt moaned softly and his cock jumped between them as John's thrust hit him just right. "You were that close to something so awful and there's nothing I can do about it."
John didn't know what to reply, so he concentrated on hitting that spot again, and for a few thrusts, Matt couldn't do more than whimper. "I... would save you," Matt whispered.
John smiled. "What would you do, kid?"