Not The Sun - 6. Chapter Six: Downtime

06 ~Downtime~

Jordan woke Brandon up at the unholy hour of ten a.m. the next day. Brandon smacked at him from under his cave of blankets. "It's Saturday you sadist," he mumbled.

"Come on, get up," Jordan prodded. "Do you want to spend the entire day in bed?"

"Yes."

"No you don't. C'mon, let's get going!"

"Go where?" Brandon asked grumpily, throwing his sheets back unenthusiastically.

"My place. There are a couple of people I want you to meet."

Brandon sighed and rubbed his eyes. "How do you know they're not sleeping, the way I would be doing right now if you weren't in here bugging me to get up?"

"For God's sake, Brandon, it's ten o clock."

"Call me Bran."

"What?" Jordan gave him a confused look.

"Bran. That's what my friends call me. It's weird hearing you call me Brandon all the time."

Jordan blinked at him then smiled. "Well, come on then, Bran."

Jordan wouldn't let Brandon drive his car, which was a mild disappointment. Brandon's mom would let him drive her car occasionally to run errands, but they couldn't afford to let him have his own, not until his older sister was out of college. So Brandon settled for rolling the window down and letting the cool breeze wake him up.

When Jordan pulled off the main road onto a gravel drive, Brandon was a little curious, and when Jordan's house, set back in the woods, came into view, Brandon was stunned. “That’s your house?”

“Yeah,” Jordan mumbled, parking his car. “Don’t make a big deal.” His face was a deep red.

Brandon got out of the car, trying not to stare, but it was hard. The house was huge. His own house could fit inside this place twice!

The inside of the house was just as amazing and Brandon couldn’t help gaping. The rooms were huge and open and the ceilings were so high. He was trying not to look like a total spaz, but what a house!

“C’mon, I’ll introduce you to my brother,” Jordan said. “This is probably one of the few times he’s in."

Brandon followed him into the kitchen where a young man was tying his tie and slipping into a suit jacket. He looked a little bit like Jordan, except that the hair was darker and longer and he didn’t have quite the same color eyes. But the smile was the same.

“Hey, bro,” the man said. “Listen, I have to go into the office for a few hours; something came up.”

“Dylan.” Jordan crossed his arms and frowned unhappily.

“I know, I know," the man said, pouring some coffee into a travel mug. "But this case goes to court Monday and I have to make sure everything gets straightened out. If I don’t go in today, they’ll be calling me at two o clock in the morning like last time. Then I’m taking Tina out to a late lunch and I’ll be back by this evening, all right?”

“Well, before you go, I wanted to introduce you. This is Brandon.”

Brandon smiled. “Hi.”

“Hey there.” The guy smiled and shook his hand. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run.” He turned to Jordan. “Oh, and I got you those passes you asked for; they’re on the counter.”

“Thanks,” Jordan said. Dylan grabbed his briefcase out of a chair, gave Jordan a brief hug and was out the door. “Um... well, that was my brother.”

“Wow,” Brandon said. “Is he usually that hyper?”

“He’s not hyper; he’s just rushed,” Jordan said, picking up some glossy forms off the counter. “Have you heard of the new club that just opened up? Purgatory?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Brandon said, looking around. The kitchen had four ovens. Four!

“Do you want to go tonight?” Jordan asked.

“Where? Purgatory?”

“Yeah.”

”I thought you had to be over eighteen to get into Purgatory.”

“Well, technically you do. But these passes will get us in through a special back entrance where you don’t have to show your ID or anything. I got these because we know the owner. So I’ll have to stop and talk to him real quick, but then we’ll be good for the rest of the night.”

“Wait, wait, wait...” Brandon held up his hand. “Not only can you get us into Purgatory, which is the hottest club in the city, but you know the owner?”

“Dylan knows the owner. He was a client at the firm where my brother works.” Jordan raised his eyebrows. “So, what do you say? Wanna go?”

“Hell yeah, I wanna go,” Brandon said.

“Great,” Jordan said. "C'mon."

Brandon followed Jordan up to his room. Jordan had a huge computer system set up, an array of computer games that would rival Leia's X-Box collection and too many books to count. And a plasma TV. In his room. Brandon briefly wondered if Jordan's brother would be willing to adopt him. "So... who am I going to meet?"

"Her name is Nikki," Jordan said, booting up his computers. "She's a Creator, just like you are."

"Cool." Brandon sat in the chair near the computer. It had wheels on it and he amused himself by pushing off with his feet and rolling across the sleek hardwood floors. "Does she have an Enabler?"

"Yeah. Her name is Dalaja. She's the one that first contacted me. I want you to talk to Nikki... I'm thinking she might be able to answer some of your questions that I might not be able to."

"So, what, is she coming over?" Brandon checked to make sure Jordan wasn't looking, before using his feet to push off the wall and slide back over to the desk.

"Not exactly." Jordan clicked a couple of buttons on his computer and a screen popped up. A woman, a young one, appeared on the screen, with shockingly pink hair wound into a thick braid and several tattoos twisting themselves up and down her arms. She was wearing a pair of tinted glasses with a black muscle shirt and a pair of plaid pants.

"Hey, Nikki."

Nikki looked up then her eyes cleared in recognition. "Jordie! Hey!"

"Jordie?" Brandon repeated, promptly dissolving into laughter. Jordan blushed all the way up to his hairline and that just made Brandon laugh harder. He leaned forward, clutching his sides and fell out of the chair.

"Serves you right," Jordan muttered, but Brandon just kept on laughing.

When he clamored back to his feet, he saw the woman from before with another young lady standing behind her. She had a wide forehead, large eyes and a generous mouth. Dark skin, coal black hair. Brandon instantly wanted to draw, to capture that face that was too unique to be considered pretty but was fascinating in its openness.

"That's Dalaja, Nikki's Enabler," Jordan explained in a low voice. "She's the one who kind of introduced me to everything." He turned to the computer. "Ladies, I brought my Creator here to meet you." He turned to Brandon. "Come on; sit down so they can see you."

Suddenly feeling nervous, Brandon climbed back up in the chair and moved so he was sitting in front of the computer screen. He could see a tiny screen on the bottom of one corner that showed him as he moved. Weird. He knew people could talk to each other face to face on computers, but this was his first time actually doing so.

"Hi," he said.

"Aw... Jordan, he's cute," Dalaja said, bending over with her hands on her knees. God, but that was showing a lot of her cleavage.

It was Brandon's turn to blush. He was too fucking old be cute.

Nikki smiled as well, but didn't say anything. Her eyes were clear and sharp behind the glasses she was wearing, and he could feel the scrutiny underneath her gaze.

"Here," Jordan said, handing him a head set with a pair of headphones and a little microphone. "I want you to talk to her for a while. Ask her anything you want to know, okay?"

"Where will you be?"

"I'm going to go take a shower. Take your time, okay?"

"All right."

Brandon slid on the headphones, feeling completely out of his realm. He used his computer for school assignments and for some art projects, but that was about as far as his technical expertise took him. Alexis, or maybe Leia, would know more about this than he did.

"Hello, ladies," he said, feeling stupid.

"So what's your name, sweetheart?" the woman with the pink hair asked.

"Brandon."

"Hi, Brandon. As Jordan told you, I'm Nikki and this is my enabler, Dalaja."

Dalaja waved at him. "Listen, Brandon, it was so nice to meet you but I have some work I need to get done. If you have any questions for me, let Nikki here know, all right?"

"Okay. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you hon."

The woman turned and disappeared from the screen and it was just him and Nikki.

"So, Brandon, you and Jordan are out East, right?"'

"Yes. Virginia," Brandon said.

"Nice, nice. Well, what do you think of all this? Pretty wild, huh?"

"Yeah, to put it mildly."

"So... do you have any questions?"

"A couple," Brandon said, pulling at his fingernails nervously.

"Shoot."

"When did you meet Dalaja?"

"About ten years ago."

"And did she tell you all this stuff about Creating and crap or was that your job?"

"No, she approached me. That's usually how it works; the Enabler contacts the Creator."

"Okay. So what do you... do?"

Nikki arched an eyebrow. "Well, technically I'm a comic book artist and Dalaja works in sales, but I have a feeling you aren't referring to my career plans."

"No. But I still think what you do for a job is pretty cool."

"Well, in the realm of Creating and Enabling, we are part of the Establishment. What we do is contact others like us, like the way Dalaja did Jordan, and just basically make them aware of

what is going on. Dalaja is able to find them because she's psychically sensitive, and then it's basically my job to bring them up to speed."

"Do they ever believe you?"

"Not at first. We don't really expect them to. We usually have to give them a little demonstration of what a Creator/Enabler team can do."

"Do you usually just tell one person or do you talk to them both at once?"

"Well, we usually only find the Enabler." Nikki rocked back in her chair slightly. "Dalaja's ability to sense only applies to Enablers. It's the Enablers responsibility to find their Creator, but it's usually not hard for them to do so. The force that draws an Enabler and Creator together is extraordinarily strong. Sometimes if an Enabler is having trouble... communicating their situation to their Creator, we'll have them both come in. Dalaja works all day, but because I can work from home, I'm usually here and I can talk to different teams, help explain stuff, meet with them, walk them through stuff, counsel them, etc. Kinda like what I'm doing with you."

"Jordan said he met you in Chicago. Is that where you live?"

"Yes, we both live here in Chicago."

"So... can Dalaja pick up Enablers anywhere in the world, or just ones that are nearby?"

"Only ones that are in the nearby vicinity," Nikki said. "Wherever you find a really big city, where a lot of people congregate you will find the greatest number of Enablers and Creators. Creators, especially, are drawn to big cities. New York, LA, and Chicago, of course. They congregate in these places for some reason."

"Why?"

Nikki shrugged. "I don't know. I, for one, think that these cities have a kind of energy that attracts and draws in a creative personality. But that's just speculation. It could just be the fact that there are a disproportionate number of people in these cities, so you have a disproportionate number of Creators and Enablers. But there are plenty here."

"I don't live in a big city," Brandon pointed out.

"No... But how old are you, Brandon? You look fairly young to me."

"I'm sixteen."

"So, you still live with your family?"

"Yeah."

"So, it was your parent's decision to live where you do now. But if it were up to you, where would you go?"

"New York. Maybe Boston. Someplace up north, out of the Bible belt."

"See? Two major cities." Nikki smiled. "Jordan lived in Chicago first, that was the only reason Dalaja found him. And then he moved to Virginia. And if he hadn't, something would have happened to bring you here. I can guarantee it. Fate brings Creators and Enablers together, without fail. Whether you like it or not, the two of you are going to be tied together... probably for the rest of your lives."

Brandon took a minute to digest that. He had known that he would have to work with Jordan, for a little bit at least, but this whole rest of his life deal? That was news to him. “So... um... what else do you people do?" Brandon asked. "You said you two are part of the Establishment. What is that?”

“Most of us, Creators and Enablers, are a largely self governing lot. We don’t really share our special abilities with the rest of the world. We don’t really want to be taken advantage of by the wrong people. We want to decide how to use our gifts... not be told how to by the government, the military or a greedy corporation, for example. You dig?”

“Yeah.”

“So there are different areas in which people donate their time. The Establishment kinda keeps track of everybody in major cities. Dalaja can trace a lot of Enablers psychically, but she can only do so much. There are many Enablers here that do the same thing she does, keep track, and bring them up to speed when they are new, and try to help maintain an accurate head count. We’re both part of that branch. There is another branch that is kinda science based, that explores the science around our abilities. I don’t know much about it; the very thought of what they are doing kinda disturbs me.”

“Why?”

“Consider the abilities we have, what we can do. It is amazing and wonderful and fascinating, but it’s also very, very dangerous, unpredictable and powerful. I don’t like the idea of people playing around with different realities, plucking at the fabrics that separate them, do you?”

Brandon felt his body break out in chills. “I guess not.”

Nikki smiled. “Don’t worry, sugar, they are probably the most well regulated organization on this planet.” Nikki bit her lips. “What else, what else? Um... well, there are some Creators, Enablers, hell entire teams that use their ability for harmful or even illegal means. We are self policing for the most part--there is a branch that you will need to contact if you catch someone doing something wrong, but I’ll give you that later. We do have some Enablers, at least, that are in law enforcement as a career and it’s very helpful. I understand from Jordan that you might be dealing with some shady characters right now.”

Brandon shrugged. “I guess. How do you know if you’re doing something wrong? I mean, is there a set of rules or laws or something?”

“We follow the same rules as everyone else, really. Don’t use your abilities to hurt people or to limit or disrespect the rights of others. This team that Jordan is trying to find, they are bad news. Be careful."

“Duly noted,” Brandon said as Jordan opened the door. His hair was wet from the shower and he had a large fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, another one draped around his shoulders. Brandon glanced at him as he entered, then quickly looked away, blushing furiously. Jordan crossed the room, opened the door to his closet and stepped inside, presumably to change.

"Hey," Nikki said, "tell Jordie he looks sexy wearing nothing but a towel."

Brandon relayed the message when Jordan came back out, fully dressed. Jordan made a rude gesture at Nikki on the computer, but had a smile on his face when he did it.

"Keep talking," Jordan said. "I'll be right downstairs in the kitchen; you remember where to find it, right?"

Brandon nodded and Jordan left the room.

"So..." Brandon shifted nervously. "I know that we are looking for the team that is doing bad stuff." And helping Leia. "But after that, what should we be doing? I mean, are we going to be required to join a part of this organization that you are part of?"

"What you do is between you and your Enabler. Some people don't do anything with it; just use their ability to bring something over from time to time when they need to. It is highly advisable to be involved in the lives of others like you, to keep on top of what's going on, if nothing else. But no one is going to tell you what to do. That's for you to decide."

"So you and Dalaja live together," Brandon said. "Is that, like, required?"

"No. It's necessary for you and your Enabler to be close. I mean, you can't work together if your distance is too great and most people find it strains their connection. And many people chose to live together, just for convenience's sake. But no, it's not necessary." Nikki leaned back. "I like the arrangement that Dalaja and I have. This is Dalaja's house; she and her husband own it. They have a little apartment above the garage that I rent. But it's not uncommon for Creators and Enablers to move into the same house, split rent or whatever. Most do it, but it's not required. How you arrange things is between you and him."

"Okay."

"Listen, Brandon. I like you a lot. I have to go and take care of some things, but I would like to talk with you some more. Do you have a number where I can call you?"

"Sure." Brandon recited it.

"All right. Jordan has my number, Dalaja's cell and our email address. If you have any questions..."

"I will." Brandon smiled. "Thanks for talking to me."

"Anytime."

    * * *

Brandon went downstairs, found Jordan in the kitchen and helped him fix lunch, lasagna with a salad, while Brandon related parts of his conversation with Nikki. Brandon was amazed at the sense of relief he felt. Before, with all this stuff with him and Jordan, it was like something that was just between the two of them, a secret contained in a little bubble. Now though, he found out there were people everywhere who were experiencing the exact same thing and there was finally, finally someone he could talk to besides Jordan. He was still reeling a little from some of the information Nikki had given him.

Fate brings Creators and Enabler together, without fail. Whether you like it or not, the two of you are going to be tied together...probably for the rest of your lives.

The rest of his life... That was a long damn time. He wondered why Fate couldn't pair him up with someone who was a little more like himself. He and Jordan were like night and day sometimes. Though it wasn't as if he didn't like Jordan. In fact, he was beginning to worry that he liked him too much.

"Is there anything that you wanted to know that Nikki couldn't answer?" Jordan asked.

Brandon shrugged and wound a long string of cheese around on his fork. "A couple. It wasn't that she couldn't answer them, she just didn't have the time."

"Like what?" Jordan asked.

"Well, we are a Creator/Enabler team and so are Nikki and Dalaja. So, are all teams paired up by gender?"

"As a matter of fact, no," Jordan said. "While I was under Dalaja's tutelage for a while, I met some other teams that were boy/girl. The thing that struck me about some of those teams, however, was the fact that there was sometimes a significant age difference. It's not uncommon to see boy/girl teams, but I do believe that the majority of them are the same sex and age range."

"Nikki said something about Creators and Enablers not being able to live far apart because it-" Brandon paused for a moment, struggling to remember her exact words. "Because most people find it strains their connection. I'm not quite sure what she meant by that."

"Well, all Creators and Enablers have a connection. It's what draws them together. All of us have a primary connection that is very basic, like the kind I had with that creature and Leia. Most teams achieve a secondary connection... a strong psychic link with each other. It lets you know where the other person is, whether or not they are hurt or need help, sometimes even what they are feeling. Some people claim they can even communicate through their connection, but-" Jordan shrugged. "I don't know about that."

"I don't feel even a little bit of a connection to you," Brandon said. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Jordan said. "I think we should build up a stronger one, but-"

"But what?" Brandon asked.

"I just didn't really know how to approach you about it," Jordan admitted. "You made it pretty clear that you don't really like spending time with me or anything-"

"I don't mind," Brandon said.

Jordan looked up. "Well, you sure seemed to give off that impression."

"I know and I'm sorry. It's not you I have a problem with. You're actually pretty cool. It's just this situation that I don't like. You know, my friend is really hurting and in trouble and I love her and it's killing me to see her going through all this. And I want to help, but I don't know what to do. And then you're telling me all this stuff that makes it about a thousand times worse. And it's just been hard for me to deal with. And then I have all that other shit going on and it's just been really bad. But I've been taking it out on you and that's not really fair. If you think doing this connection thing would be good for us, then I think we should do it."

"Okay. And we will. Give me some time to talk to Dalaja to make sure I have everything straight first."

"Okay."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of so far. It's just... a lot to take in, I guess."

"Yeah, I know. It can be pretty extreme. But I think all in all you've been dealing with it pretty well."

Brandon snorted. "I don't know. I think I've been a pretty big brat about the whole thing."

"You've had to rearrange the way you look at the world. Had to change your perceptions of what is possible and what is real. It's a hard thing to do. You're adjusting pretty well."

Brandon smiled, feeling heat creep into his face. "Thanks, I guess."

Jordan dropped him off at his house after lunch. Brandon went upstairs, slept for several hours then had a light dinner with Kelly and his mom before taking a shower and getting ready to go out. He got ready to apply some make up then paused. The last time he had really made himself up had been for Alexis' party when he had his run in with Keith. He sighed and set his eyeliner back down for a moment. He knew some people considered it girly, wearing makeup, but he didn't give a damn what other people thought of him, not really. He cared about looking good, and if makeup made him look good, then he would wear it. But he was also aware that he would be with Jordan, who would be looking.... well, normal. Would Jordan be embarrassed at being seen with him? Did he care what Jordan thought?

Earlier he would have said no. Now though... Dammit, he did care what Jordan thought. Why?

Because I like him, that's why.

And now they were going to a club together. Would that be considered a date?

It's Jordan! Brandon reminded himself. He's not going to consider it a date, so stop being so weird about it. And he's not going to care how you look. Stop being such an egomaniac.
Brandon had fixed his makeup and was buckling his boots when Jordan showed up to pick him up at ten. He gave his mom the necessary information, picked up his jacket and went on his way.

Jordan stared at him in the car and Brandon's old insecurities came rushing back.

"What?" he snapped out, although internally he knew. He thinks I look like a freak.

"You look...different," Jordan said, smiling.

"So?"

"Nothing. I'm not exactly sure what you did, but it's a good look for you."

Brandon relaxed marginally. "Thanks, I guess."

Jordan was dressed a little edgier than normal, but not too different from the way Brandon had expected. Brandon didn't think Jordan looked too bad himself, but didn't feel it was terribly prudent to say so until he figured out why the hell he was being so fucking weird about it.

    * * *

"This is fucking awesome! Fucking awesome!" Brandon said later. It was sheer force of will that kept him from jumping up and down. It would look ridiculous and betray his age. He was relying on Jordan's pass to get into Purgatory, but had brought his fake ID just in case. So he played it cool.

When he and Jordan showed the bouncer the passes they had been given, the guy let them through a side door, where they went down a hallway and were inside the club without anyone even looking at their IDs. Cool! Jordan stopped to talk to the gentleman at the door, the owner Brandon was guessing, but he gestured for Brandon to go on. It was still pretty early, but the club was already in full swing, music blasting from the speakers and the dance floor packed. This particular club had two floors, the main floor, which was Limbo and the lower floor, which was Hell. You had to be over 21 to go down to Hell and Brandon didn't even bother trying.... there was plenty of fun to be had in Limbo. Brandon went to the bar and ordered a drink. He offered to get one for Jordan, too, when he approached, but he declined, opting for a regular coke. After that, Brandon hit the dance floor. The dance floor was made out of Plexiglas, with swirling, multicolored lights imbedded in the plastic so you had lights on all sides of you as you danced. Brandon loved it.

After a couple of dances, he looked around for Jordan. He disengaged from a sexy, curvy redhead and went looking for him. He found him seated at a table, his empty coke glass in front of him. "Hey," Brandon said, speaking close to Jordan's ear to make sure he could hear him. "What are you doing?"

"Just watching."

"Watching is for pansies. Get up and come dance."

Jordan raised his eyebrows. "And if I don't want to?"

Brandon reached down, grabbing his hands. "I'm not giving you a choice. C'mon."

Jordan cracked a small smile, but let Brandon drag him into the melee of glowing lights, throbbing music and dancing bodies.

He could see that Brandon enjoyed clubbing. He loved to dance and was very good at it. He also had an infectious energy and was charming when he wanted to be. So Jordan stayed on the dance floor a little bit longer, dancing either with Brandon or whoever approached him. Mostly he kept an eye on Brandon, who only left the dance floor to have some more drinks and looked like he was having the time of his life.

It was late, close to four o' clock, when Jordan approached Brandon with the idea of leaving. Brandon, who was finally beginning to look tired, agreed easily.

"You know, I think I'm a little drunk," Brandon slurred, leaning heavily on Jordan as he maneuvered both of them out of the club and across the empty street.

"You think?" Jordan snorted. "You can hardly walk."

"I can so!" Brandon protested, dignity stung. He took several deliberate weaving steps and almost fell. Jordan had to reach out and steady him. "See?"

"Sure, whatever." Jordan grinned. "Promise you won't get sick in my car?"

"'Course."

Brandon didn't get sick, but settled instead for switching Jordan's radio to another station, turning it up extremely loud and singing along to each song in an equally loud and terribly off key voice. All in all, Jordan was very glad when they reached the house.

Brandon stumbled inside, literally fell onto the couch. "Have I told you what a nice house you have?" Brandon said loudly.

"Nope," Jordan said, reading the note his brother left. Apparently, he was staying with his girlfriend overnight. Convenient, as Brandon was being loud and would probably have woken him up if he had been here, but God, he hated that bitch his brother was dating. He shrugged and poured a glass of water, handing it to Brandon. "Here, drink this."

"Why?" Brandon pouted, taking the glass.

"You'll feel better in the morning."

"I feel great!" Brandon said, smiling.

"I know. Drink it."

Brandon rolled his eyes, but drank it. He handed the glass back, then locked eyes with Jordan as he slowly and deliberately licked the remaining drops of water off his lips. Jordan felt his grip on the glass slip slightly and he fumbled with it as he turned away to put it back in the kitchen. He was surprised to find his heart racing. The look more than the gesture had thrown him--it was downright sexual. He smiled and told himself to relax. He was being silly. It was just Brandon, who was obviously hammered and probably wouldn't even remember it the next morning. He went back into the other room, offered Brandon his hand. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"Yours or mine?" Brandon asked with a grin, then grabbed Jordan's hand, pulled him down and gave him a hard, smacking kiss.

Jordan gasped and pulled away, stumbling back when Brandon released his hand with no resistance. "What the hell-"

"I wanted to see how my lipstick would look on you," Brandon said, standing up.

Jordan wiped at his lips with his fingers and saw dark smudges on them that were indeed from Brandon's lipstick. He looked back up as Brandon approached and patted his cheek. "Chill out, Jordan. I'm just messing around with you."

"Well don't."

Brandon's eyes, heavily outlined and very dark, glimmered slightly in the low light. "It's only a joke. Relax." He stretched. "I'm exhausted. Can you show me what room to stay in? I'll get lost if I try to find it myself."

* * *

"I hate you," Brandon mumbled the next day, resting his head on the dashboard of Jordan's car.

"Nah, you're just hung-over."

"I'm that, too," Brandon agreed. "Any normal person would let me stay in my bed and sleep it off."

"Nope," Jordan said. "You get to hang out with me instead. Consolation prize."

"You're a sadist, I swear to God," Brandon mumbled. In all honesty, he wasn't that hung-over, just tired. He knew he hadn't been that drunk at the club, or once they had gotten back to

Jordan's place, but he had been plenty of tired. And when he was tired, it tended to loosen up his tongue quite a bit. It would save him and Jordan both a lot of potential embarrassment if he pretended all that flirting and the kiss were a by-product of being drunk instead of Brandon just letting his guard down at a bad time. Jordan hadn't mentioned it. Maybe he had forgotten. Or maybe he had figured that Brandon had forgotten and hadn't wanted to bring it back up. Or perhaps Jordan did remember and this was his cruel way of punishing him. Whatever. Brandon certainly wasn't going to say anything about it. Although the expression on Jordan's face had been pretty funny.

The car slowed and came to a stop. Brandon opened his eyes and cautiously looked around.

"Why are we at the school?"

He should never have asked, Brandon figured as he landed hard on the ground next to the track, wheezing. Wheezing, for Chrissake! Jordan knelt down next him, breathing a little hard but not in the strained, gasping, fish out of water manner he was. Damn him anyway.

"That's pretty pathetic, Bran," Jordan said, smiling. "Don't you ever exercise?"

"Not--if I can--avoid it," Brandon managed to gasp out.

"Here." Jordan caught his hands and pulled them up. "Hold your arms up like this... It'll help your chest expand and let your lungs get more oxygen so you won't be breathing so heavily."

Brandon looked up at him, Jordan's normally somber expression traded in for friendly amusement and his hair a little mussed from the light jog, and felt his heart give a long, slow flip. It was at that point that he realized that he might have a big problem on his hands. One that began with the letter "L" and rhymed with dove.

"I don't think that this will be helping me slow down my breathing," Brandon said, not realizing what he was saying until he had already said it and hoped it didn't sound as suggestive as it felt.

Jordan lifted an eyebrow. "Here." He handed Brandon a stopwatch. "Rest here for a while. I'm going to run a few laps. Time me, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Brandon watched Jordan run. He was fast, and in his shorts and T-shirt, Brandon could see he had a runner's body, slim and light, with strong legs. Brandon had always been an artist and never an athlete--his Mom had tried to get him involved in sports when he was younger and the whole experience was an unmitigated disaster that she never tried to repeat--but he could appreciate an athlete's body, all muscle and sinew, with an artist's eye. He would love to draw this and made a mental note to try to capture this scene when he had a chance.

Jordan came trotting up to him later, breathing hard, with strands of hair stuck to his sweaty face and damp marks on his T-shirt, near the chest, between the shoulders and under the sleeves. Brandon was struck by the incredible and totally inappropriate urge to pull that shirt off and run his lips over damp skin. His head was full of inappropriate urges whenever Jordan was near.

He told Jordan his time, hoping Jordan wouldn't notice the trembling in his voice.

"What's wrong?" Jordan asked, taking a long drink from his water then flopping down next to him, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

"Nothing," Brandon lied.

Jordan turned his head looked at him. "C'mon, you know you can talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I can't."

Jordan looked hurt and angry. "You sure do like to keep secrets, don’t you? Why-"

"I'm thinking of how much I want to fuck you right now."

A heavy silence fell after that last statement. Brandon had looked down when he spoke, staring at the grass, but now he looked up. Jordan stared at him, his mouth slightly open.

"Close your mouth, man, or I might want to pin you down and have my way with you," Brandon said, only half joking. Jordan's mouth shut, his eyes still wide and surprised. "Okay, listen," Jordan finally said, sounding scared and trying to hide it. "You... Last night-

"This isn't about last night, okay? I-" Brandon shrugged. "I can't help myself. You're a hot guy and I like you." He felt like his face must be glowing, it was burning so hotly. "I know it's not cool for me to dump this on you at a time like this, but-" He shrugged. "You wanted me to tell you, so I guess it's your own fault." He got to his feet. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Bran, wait a-"

"See you," Brandon managed before he was running, off the track, off the field and away from the school. He guessed he could run fairly well, once he found the right motivation.

God, he hated Sundays.