Page 22 of Caught Running

Jake watched Brandon get into the car and then turned back to the pile of equipment the kids had left by the side of the bus. He took his time lugging everything to the dugout, not wanting to irritate any of the various aches and pains he knew would show up when he got home. He locked the door when he was done, moved the bus into its parking space, and walked slowly to Brandon’s car. His stomach flipped nervously, but he told himself to stay calm. He was being childish and idiotic, and this had to stop soon. He couldn’t keep crushing on the man like he was without something giving. Probably his sanity.

He got into the car quietly. Brandon appeared to be asleep already, breathing silently, face looking hollow under dim lights that exaggerated the dark shadows under his eyes. He didn’t move when the car door shut. Jake sat looking at him for a moment, taking in his features. He wished he had some way to relate to the man, but he could never think of anything that would do more than embarrass him. With a soft sigh Jake started the car and drove out of the parking lot, heading for his house and leaving his own truck behind.

When the car stopped and the engine shut off, the sudden lack of soothing movement made Brandon stir, who dragged his eyes open to look out the rain-glazed window. “Wha’?” he mumbled, trying to sit up.

“We’re home,” Jake told him as he dragged himself out of the car and reached back in to snag Brandon’s bag for him. “You need any of this stuff?”

Brandon climbed out of the car into the light rain and looked up at Jake’s house, just now wondering if this was such a greatidea. “No,” he answered, shutting the door and thinking about sagging against it.

“Inside then,” Jake ordered as he came around the back of the car and gently took Brandon’s elbow. “Shower, dry clothes, and bed,” he coaxed with a small smile.

Unwilling to move for a minute, Brandon watched the moment freeze in a snapshot ... Jake standing next to him in the broken moonlight, the rain falling around them both, a soft expression on Jake’s face, an even softer look in his eyes. Then the moment broke, time started moving again, and Brandon let Jake guide him into the house.

“Go up the stairs, down the hall and to the door at the end, that’s my room. You can use the shower in there; there’s shampoo, towels,” Jake instructed, setting the bag down by the door, wishing for his own sake that the other bathroom was ready for guests. “And, uh, I’ll get you some clothes while you’re in there.”

Brandon was already moving when he realized he hadn’t said anything. He turned, opening his mouth to speak, and was surprised by Jake right behind him. Jake stumbled against him, grabbing him by the arms to keep his balance. “Oh, sorry. I mean, thank you. Yeah. You know, for...” Brandon waved his hand a little.

“Don’t mention it,” Jake murmured in reply to the stuttered ramble. His fingers dug into Brandon’s arms slowly as his body tensed at the unexpected contact.

Brandon lifted his eyes to look at Jake, trying to tell himself he didn’t feel a tingle where they touched. They just stood there for several heartbeats when Brandon realized Jake must be waiting for him to move. He dropped his eyes quickly. “Ah. I’ll hit the shower.” He started to shuffle forward again.

Jake let him go as if he had been burnt, standing there holding his hands out with his fingers splayed as Brandon moved away from him. “I’ll get your clothes.”

Brandon nodded and followed the directions to the bathroom, where he pushed the door shut and sat down hard on the commode, bone weary. Five hours of sleep a night at best was not going to cut it, he could tell already. He dragged his hands over his face, then leaned and turned on the shower before stripping down, hanging the damp clothes on the empty towel bar, and leaving his shoes on the rug. He pushed aside the shower curtain and climbed in, groaning as the hot water hit cool, clammy skin.

In the hall, Jake stood unmoving. What in God’s name was he doing? What was he expecting to come of this potential disaster? He could already see that he was going to have to either start distancing himself from Brandon, which was nearly impossible until the season was over, or just—no. He couldn’t act on it. That was unthinkable. Wasn’t it? He shook his head and forced himself to move. First he went into the guest bedroom, his old room, and made certain there were fresh sheets on the bed. Then he went into his own room and began to go through his closet slowly, looking for something suitable for the other man to wear. Jake listened to the water running as he laid out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Giving the man boxers was ... was it inappropriate? He would have given Troy or Jonathan some to sleep in. He sighed and fished out a pair of boxers and threw them onto the bed with the other clothes, then sat on the bench at the end of the bed and began to untie his shoes, moving sluggishly as the day caught up to him.

Staying in the shower a little longer than his usual one-minute wash down, Brandon leaned on one arm to brace himself before he realized he was in danger of falling asleep standing up, still thinking about Jake in the rain. Brandon bithis lip. Dear God, this had to stop or he was going to be horribly obsessed. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, rubbing it harshly over his skin until he felt as dry as he could get, besides his hair being damp. Luckily, it was an extra-large bath towel—all the easier to wrap around Jake’s extra-large frame, that evil little voice crowed—and Brandon banged his forehead a couple times against the wall before folding the towel around his hips and opening the door halfway, looking out into the bedroom.

Jake stood at the end of his bed, stripping off his soaked Under Armour with a little difficulty as his shoulder began to act up because of the cold and wet. He tossed the shirt to the ground in disgust when he finally got it over his head, and ran his hands through his short hair before realizing that the door had opened. “Hey,” he said in surprise, as if he hadn’t quite expected Brandon to come back out. “I, uh, didn’t know what you liked to sleep in, so... “Jake blushed a little, gathered up the entire bundle from the bed and walked it over to Brandon, averting his eyes as he handed him the clothing.

Brandon took the clothes, murmuring a thanks under his breath. He saw how Jake was holding his arm and shoulder as still as possible. “I’ll pull these on and grab the wet stuff and get out of your way,” Brandon said, hoping a hot shower would help the other man before he was in more pain.

“No hurry,” Jake told the man softly as he turned away. He hesitated there, unsure of what to do for a moment. Finally he headed out of the bedroom, still in his soaking wet gray away-game pants, and he dragged down the hall, thumped down the stairs, and trudged into the kitchen in search of his pills.

Brandon watched Jake walk away, and he was far too tired to make himself look away from the other man’s ass in those tight pants. Instead he closed his eyes and turned around. Back in the bathroom, he dropped the towel and pulled on the boxers and T-shirt, considering the jogging pants. Now pretty warm, he leftthem folded on the sink. He gathered all the wet stuff and his shoes and headed down the hall toward the stairs, figuring he could get a bag or something to put it all in.

Jake stood at the counter with his eyes closed, pill bottle in one hand, edge of the granite counter top gripped in the other. He could deal with sharp pains and injuries. It was this throbbing and aching shit that wore him down. He heard the soft pad of feet behind him and opened his eyes, placing the bottle back in the cabinet where it belonged and closing the door carefully. “Find everything you need?” Jake asked in what he hoped was a normal voice.

“Yeah,” Brandon answered softly, seeing the strain in Jake’s body and hearing it echoed in his voice. “I was going to grab a bag for these. Should I pick any room to crash in? Don’t want to be in your way. I’m sure you’re at least as wiped as I am.”

“Yeah, I made up the bed in my old room for you,” Jake answered as he turned around slowly and grabbed the half-empty Gatorade bottle on the counter. One of the boys had left it on the bus, but Jake had never been picky. He popped the pills and washed them down with a gulp of the sharp lemon-flavored drink and then shivered all over. “I’ve got some grocery bags,” he offered as he shivered again and his jaw tried to lock.

“Okay,” Brandon said, wincing in sympathy. “Jake, is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, hurting just looking at him.

“Help?” Jake asked in confusion, momentarily distracted by the very thin material of Brandon’s borrowed clothing. Jake wondered if he himself looked as good in his clothing as Brandon did.

Knowing exactly where the muscles ran, Brandon lifted his hand to slide his thumb along the knotted shoulder. “You’re hurting and protecting your shoulder, but it’s still seizing up,” he said evenly.

Jake tensed involuntarily and quivered at the touch. “Yeah, it, uh, it aches sometimes,” he mumbled, trying to decide where to let his eyes settle. “I have to remind myself not to favor it,” he added as he desperately tried to think of something to say.

“You’ve got some liniment, right? Go get in the shower, and I’ll rub it in so you can get some rest,” Brandon offered before he could think better of it. He knew, intellectually, what had to have happened to Jake’s shoulder for it to act like that, how the muscles and ligaments could be stretched and abused, torn and pinched. He knew how all the layers of muscle overlapped, what would hurt where the most, what would cause the worst of the knotting. It was simple anatomy.

Jake frowned worriedly at him but nodded obediently in the end. The truth was that he would do anything if it offered relief for the parts of him that hurt like they did. Brandon nodded and dropped his hand. “Go on, then,” the science teacher urged. He could find the bag himself or drape the clothes over the bar in the meantime.

Jake licked his lips and set the Gatorade down, stepping to the side and around Brandon as he headed for the bedroom and the shower. “Bags are in the pantry,” he called over his shoulder as he undid his belt. “Actually, just leave ‘em on the counter, we’ll throw them in the wash,” he added. “Game tomorrow.”

Nodding, Brandon laid the pile next to the sink, taking a long minute to peer out the window at the rain. He let his mind wander as he heard the water come on upstairs. Game tomorrow. Late afternoon home game, which meant he wouldn’t have to be in too much of a hurry the next morning. He needed a good rest, and he was going tohaveto take one.