Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/456661.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      School_of_Rock_(2003)
  Relationship:
      Zack/Freddy, Zack/OMC
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-11 Words: 5445
****** The Problem With Tall, Blond Boys (Or, Why Zackary Mooneyham Cannot Be
Trusted Around Anyone Whose Last Name is "Jones") ******
by GlitterDwarf
Summary
     The old, the new, and the fucked up shit.
The holidays are stressful. It's a known fact, and Zack has always grimaced and
nodded when people bring it up. To him, it makes sense, all the suicides, the
rise in depression. The holidays are so full of pressure. You have to love your
family, have to be with them for days at a time. No chance of escape, not
anymore.
But then, his dad tells him that he and his mother will be taking a holiday
cruise, presumably to "rekindle their romance" or some shit like that. And Zack
feels almost-good, breathes a sigh of relief, feels the tension sluice itself
from his body, until his mom tells him that he'll be staying at the Jones'.
And, if it is at all possible, Zack is even more stressed now.
 
Zack is always uncomfortable around Cary. It isn't that Cary is particularly
frightening, or that he gives Zack any real reason to feel even a bit off-put.
Cary is nice, most of the time. Cary is funny and boyish and older. But in the
end, Zack knows that the problem is that Cary is fucking hot. The last time
Zack saw him - which was, of course, at the older boy's graduation - he was
tall, well-built, slender, football player. And while Zack would like to
pretend that he isn't turned on by the classically "good" male physique, he
can't exactly pretend that it wasn't Freddy's older brother that he masturbated
to for years, that really made Zack realize that he was gay in the first place.
Zack tries not to think about. Zack tries not to think about a lot of things,
such as his sexuality, the weird shape of his hair, and the fact that, more
likely than not, Freddy will grow up to look more like Cary, but when Zack is
dragging his suitcase into Freddy's room, yeah, he's mostly trying to not think
about Cary.
"So since I don't have a girl and you don't have a girl, which is great because
it means we can spend this week together, just the two of us,"
Freddy is saying somewhere to the right of Zack, who is only half-listening. "I
was thinking we could start with my trampoline, you and me, tonight. We can eat
out there and jump around and squirt each other with with the old Super Soakers
- remember those?"
But Zack isn't paying attention, because Cary is in Freddy's room, playing
Freddy's old Nintendo, wearing nothing but an old Hanes t-shirt - threadbare,
taut muscles flexing as he moves the controller, a little hole under the right
arm - and some jeans that are riding obscenely-low, showing off his black Hanes
boxer briefs, and fuck if it isn't sexy.
Cary looks up as Freddy rolls his eyes, apologizes for something, something
with the word "Cary in it," but Zack can't really focus when Cary is looking at
him, and not in the way that you usually look at your little brother's best
friend. And there is that slow, cheesy grin that made Zack fall in love with
him in the first place, and Cary's eyes flick down to Zack's crotch, then back
up again, and Zack knows that he knows.
"Sucks about your parents," Cary says, pausing his game.
"Why are you here, Cary?" Freddy complains, taking Zack's bag and throwing it
somewhere near Freddy's bed a bit too hard.
"Wanted to play Mario," he replies, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes turn back
to Zack, and Zack's knees are already buckling a bit, and it's almost too much.
"Want to play with me, Zack?"
"We're busy, asswipe," Freddy says, dragging Zack away. But Zack can't quite
get those sexy, brown eyes out of his head, even when he's looking into
Freddy's, which are almost-the same, but different in almost every way that
counts.
"Sorry my brother is such a fucking loser," Freddy explains, a few minutes
later, as they lounge on the living room couch, watching some movie. Freddy is
tooclosetooclose to Zack, mere millimeters away, and it's messing with Zack's
brain. He can't take all the hotness, the tallness, the blondness. "He comes
home from college once a year and acts like he fucking owns the place."
"Yeah," Zack says, trying to focus on Cady Heron's breasts, feeling sad that
Lindsey Lohan had to die the way she did. She really was like the Marilyn
Monroe for their generation.
And, just as his brain starts going "what the fuck are you thinking about?"
Freddy's mom comes in and says that she can't find the cot, and you won't mind
sleeping in Cary's room? He can sleep with Freddy.
Of course not.
 
The next day they go to Target, and "thank God" because then "you won't have to
sleep in those nasty, sweaty sheets anymore," Freddy says, and Zack laughs,
rolls his eyes, pretends that he didn't jack off three times in that bed by
morning, which explains how sore he is today.
That night Freddy and Zack have their backyard campout like they planned the
day before. It's fucking cold outside, so they are both wearing layers and
layers of clothes, but it's silly and funny, because they are eating hot dogs
in the ice-slush from the snow storm a few days before.
"I missed hanging out with you," Zack says, and Freddy's eyes snap to his face.
There are Freddy's eyes, not-Cary's eyes, and they make Zack's stomach flutter.
"Because of Veronica," he says quickly, looking down and stuffing more of the
hot dog in his mouth.
"Well, she was a bitch," Freddy says, but it isn't like it should be, fun and
boyish, it's quiet and serious. And Zack looks up, and they're looking at each
other, serious.
But then there is Cary, and Zack can't stop looking at him instead.
"Mom sent me out to check on you guys," he says, his breath forming little
clouds in the cold-night air. Zack knows this is a lie, because they heard the
Jones' go to sleep a few minutes ago. "You fucktards would be stupid to sleep
out here."
"Maybe we will," Freddy challenges.
"Yeah right. I'll give you guys ten more minutes before you run back in here
and climb in bed with me because you need the goddamn warmth," he says, rolling
his eyes, but when they stop rolling they are looking at Zack, adding endings
to that sentence that should never be spoken out loud.
"Fuck off," Freddy says, throwing a flaccid, un-cooked hotdog at his older
brother.
"Whatever," Cary says, catching the hot dog. He holds it with both hands and
sticks it in his mouth, staring at Zack, before he turns around and closes the
sliding door.
They sit there for another five minutes, in mostly-silence, before they decide
that it is too cold and they retreat inside to where the heater is on, to where
it is dry, to where they can sleep in comfort.
 
It snows that night, just in time for Christmas Eve. Nicole runs shrieking
through the house the next morning like she's five years old, not fourteen, her
breasts bouncing up and down in her t-shirt in a way that makes Zack blush -
shouldn't look at your best friend's sister's breasts. And it's no wonder,
because the snow is perfect, powdery and light and just begging to be played
in.
So they do, right after breakfast. Mrs. Jones tries to get them to put on
warmer clothes, but none of them listen, the four "kids" are too excited.
Zack makes snow-angels with Nicole, because she asks with a blush, and tries
not to look at her hard-nipples through her t-shirt. His own sleep pajama-
bottoms are soaked through, which wouldn't be such a problem if not for the
fact that Cary and Freddy are wrestling in the snow, and Cary is dripping wet,
and Freddy is dripping wet, and for the first time Zack doesn't know where to
look.
Until he is hit with a snowball, and then all four of them are fighting,
smiling, grinning, yelling, and by the time it's over there are four very
soaked persons running back through the house, calling dibs on the shower.
Zack goes third, after Nicole, who is after Freddy. The steam is warm and feels
good on his muscles, which are still aching from the last few days of running
around.
When he gets out, he barely has enough time to slip into his boxers before the
door opens, and there is Cary, in sweatpants and nothing else.
"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't leave, and he doesn't move, just closes the
door behind him and stands there, staring at Zack.
Zack pushes his hair back and grabs for the pair of jeans he put on the toilet
seat, very aware of his ass sticking into the air, not two feet away from Cary.
"I'll be out in a minute," he mumbles quietly, hoping that Cary can't see how
red his face is.
"How old are you guys now?" Cary asks, leaning against the sink. Zack knows
that Cary knows exactly how old he is, but he doesn't call him on it.
"Sixteen. We're juniors." Zack pauses. "Actually, Freddy is sixteen, I'm
seventeen, my birthday was last month."
"Mmm," Cary says, his head bobbing up and down. "You know, you don't look
seventeen."
Cary steps forward and grabs Zack's arms gently, turning him around so that
they are facing each other. His hands move, roaming across Zack's torso before
finally settling on either side of his face.
"This is illegal," Zack says quietly, but for some reason his body won't listen
to logic
.
"I won't tell if you won't," Cary whispers, ducks his head and licks a drop of
water that was running down Zack's chest, making the younger boy shudder in
Cary's hands.
"Sorry. That was bothering me," he says, as if it really explains everything.
"Yeah," Zack says, and he is staring at Cary's crotch, where there is a very
big bulge. Cary notices this, groans, rips the pants out of Zack's arms, throws
them on the ground, and gets down on his knees.
His fingers are hot against Zack's skin, thick and insistent, and suddenly
Zack's boxers are around his ankles and he's sitting on the toilet seat with a
lapful of Cary's head.
"Fuck," he says shakily, all of the breath coming out of his lungs. Cary's
hands push Zack's thighs apart, his mouth sucking at one of Zack's thighs,
before finally swallowing Zack's dick in one try. His mouth is hot and so
fucking sexy it hurts, and Zack's fingers are in Cary's hair, and he's coming
too fast, too soon, and he can blame it on the years of pent-up sexual
frustration but really, it just comes down to Cary, him being right there, him
being so hot.
Cary smiles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, other hand still
clutching at Zack's thighs.
"Hot," he says, then picks up Zack's forgotten pants and hands them to the very
tired boy.
"Freddy might start to wonder what's taking so long," he says. Then, he strips,
and Zack sees that Cary's dick isn't hard anymore, which makes his own stomach
flutter, before the older boy - the man, Zack thinks - is in the shower, and he
is still standing there, naked.
When he gets to Freddy's room, Freddy is playing with his Nintendo. He smiles
and pats the spot next to him.
"Fuck, you take a long time to shower," he says, then throws the extra
controller at him. "I've been waiting for you."
"Sorry," Zack mumbles, then slides next to Freddy, hoping against all hopes
that Freddy won't notice the way he smells, how his hands are still shaking,
how his dick is half-hard.
Fuck, he thinks. I just had sex with Cary Jones.
 
It is so cold that night, and, Zack thinks, it will probably start to snow. Mr.
Jones came in and gave them each an extra blanket, but it isn't helping much,
and Zack shivers on the thin cot.
"Are you still awake?" Freddy asks, and Zack turns around to look up at
Freddy's bed. And there is his best friend's face, pale in the moonlight.
"Yeah," Zack whispers, sitting up on his elbows. "It's fucking cold."
Freddy laughs, nods, and "want to come up here with me?"
Well, of course.
Zack slides into the bed where Freddy has made room, and has to admit that it
is, indeed, a lot warmer, but for reasons that he is trying to not think about.
And then they are laying there, looking at each other, and it is too-silent for
a moment, especially since they are two teenage boys, laying in the same bed
together, so close so close.
"I'm still waiting for Santa to come," Freddy says, smiling at Zack.
"I didn't get you a present," Zack says, suddenly, apologetically.
"It's okay. I didn't get you one either."
But Zack knows he is lying, because he found the box, wrapped up for him, under
Freddy's bed when he accidentally dropped a quarter the day before.
Freddy keeps on looking at Zack, and Zack shivers, not-quite from the cold.
"Still cold?" Freddy asks with a concerned look in his eye. When Zack doesn't
say anything, he shifts closer, until their bodies are aligned from toes to
chest, and their faces are so close that Zack can smell Freddy's breath.
"Freddy," he says intelligently, looking everywhere and nowhere.
"Zack, this could ruin everything, but I like you. A lot," Freddy whispers. His
hands start to move, stroking Zack's exposed arms and throat.
Zack is silent for a moment, thinking about hot, tall blond boys.
"I'm so fucking sorry, Freddy," he says, and it's not just because he didn't
get Freddy anything for Christmas.
"Shut the fuck up, Zack," Freddy says back, and moves his head. Their lips meet
and it's good, even though their noses are bumping, and their teeth are
clicking, but then there is tongue and it is so hot Zack can't remember that
it's December anymore.
Freddy's hands are on the hem of Zack's shirt, then underneath it, running up
and down his back, and his tongue is probing into Zack's mouth, and his leg is
between Zack's, and his erection is pushing onto his thigh.
"Fuck," he groans as Zack pushes Freddy into his own bed, grinding their
pelvises together. Their hip bones clack and rub against each other
uncomfortably, but Zack can't really focus on the pain because of how fucking
good it feels to have Freddy's arms around him, Freddy's legs around him,
Freddy's tongue in his mouth, Freddy, beneath him and willing and so wanting it
almost-hurts.
"I like you too, Freddy," Zack says helplessly, because he can't think of
anything else so say, and Freddy laughs. The sound has never sounded as good as
it does in the middle of all of this.
"You're so hot," Freddy whispers as his hands move to squeeze Zack's ass. Zack
gasps and sucks on Freddy's neck, then turns them around so he can reach into
Freddy's pants and grab his best friend's dick.
Freddy gasps and lets out a shaky groan, throat arching back, white in the
dark, in the light of the moon. The blond boy puts one hand on his own
headboard and the other down Zack's pants, squeezing and pulling and applying
the pressure just so to make Zack's head spin.
Then they are kissing again, and it's so good, the slide of their lips
together, over and over, just like their hands, pumping each other, over and
over, and then Freddy is shaking against him and coming, the rush of heat on
Zack's hand, and then Zack is coming, too.
They lay together for a long time, until Zack can hear the sound of fresh snow
hitting the ground outside.
Zack just-looks at Freddy, and Freddy just-looks at Zack, and then they just
lay there, kissing softly as the threat of morning becomes a reality.
"Merry Christmas," Freddy whispers against Zack's lips.
Zack feels the same way.
 
Zack wakes up after a few hours, when the white light of the moon has just
barely faded into the pink beginnings of the sun. It is the hardest thing in
the world to slip out of the warm bed, out of Freddy's arms, but he does it,
because there is something so, so exciting about sneaking downstairs on early-
Christmas morning.
The presents don't belong to him, because his parents decided that they would
have their own "Mooneyham Christmas" when they returned from their trip. Still,
it's nice to look at the sheer volume of presents, see which are Freddy's,
wonder what might be in them.
Zack is standing in front of the tree, looking at the ornaments, including the
one that Freddy made in first grade, the little heart-shaped Santa face with
lace around it, when he feels arms encircle his body, lips on his throat. He
sighs and leans back into the solid body behind him, too-solid, but not
thinking, because it's early.
"Merry fucking Christmas, Zack," Cary says into his ear, and Zack tries to get
away, because it's not-Freddy, and, even if he isn't sure what he and Freddy
are, he knows it isn't good to be intimate with his best friend's brother,
anyway.
"Cary," he says, voice hoarse. "I can't do this."
"I like how you say my name," Cary continues. His hands move up underneath
Zack's t-shirt, across his stomach, up to brush against now-hard nipples.
"I slept with Freddy last night," Zack chokes out, biting back a groan. He
knows it's obviously too-much-information, but he isn't sure what to say to get
Cary off of him. Not sure if he wants Cary off of him.
"I won't tell if you won't," the older Jones says, hands now moving down to cup
Zack's erection, and since when was that there? "Besides, you totally fucking
want me."
And Zack can't argue with that, and his hips go forward into Cary's hand.
But then there is Nicole's voice, the sound of her running feet, coming fast,
so Cary steps back quickly, pushing Zack back onto the couch. He falls onto the
black leather with a wheezing sound, eyes large and brown and looking up into
Cary's, which are so neutral it almost-hurts.
"Merry 'effing Christmas! Where's Freddy?" Nicole's voice is fast and happy as
she races to her presents. "I hope I got that fucking iPod I asked for."
Zack looks up at Cary, who looks down at Nicole, and he knows this is going to
be a long week.
 
This time, Zack sits on the side as the Jones' have a snowball fight. Even Mr.
and Mrs. Jones participated, Mrs. Jones wearing the new cashmere scarf that
Nicole bought her, Mr. Jones sporting the new watch that Cary got him. The
couple started out throwing daintily at each other, which turned into a full-
out fight, ending in them kissing beneath the giant oak-tree next to the pool.
Freddy screamed that it was disgusting, then turned to Zack and winked at him.
Zack just smiled and drew his knees closer to his body, making them scratch
against the sweater that Mrs. Jones bought him. He was a part of the family, if
even just for a moment, and it felt good.
Freddy eventually comes over and sits next to Zack, watching Nicole and Cary
fight over how the snowman is supposed to look.
"My family is psycho," Freddy says, looping his gloved hand through Zack's bare
fingers.
"You can say that again," Zack agrees, smiling at the feeling of the wet hand
pressed up tight with his own.
Cary doesn't bother Zack for the rest of the day, even at dinner, where he
won't even look at Zack. Not that Zack notices this kind of thing, because he
is with Freddy, sort of. Freddy does the opposite and focused mainly on Zack,
holding his hand the entire way through dinner. That night, in bed, he whispers
that he had been waiting for years to be like this with Zack, to be close, as
close as two people can be. They kiss and hold each other until Freddy falls
asleep.
Zack can't get to sleep, so he gets up and goes to the kitchen to get something
to drink. When he comes back upstairs, Cary is standing in front of Freddy's
door, blocking entrance.
"Cary," Zack pleads in a whisper.
"I just want to talk," he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Zack sighs, looks up and down the hall, then nods. The Jones boy grins, then
grabs Zack by the hand and drags him into his own room.
He is up against the wall immediately. Cary grabs both of Zack's hands and pins
them above his head, mouth working against Zack's jaw. Zack tries to move his
head away, shifting as well as he can, trying as hard as he can to not get an
erection.
"Come on, Zack," Cary whispers as he sucks on an earlobe. "You're so fucking
sexy, can't stop thinking about you."
Zack groans at this. It's hard to not respond to these words, because since
when has be been a pimp? Especially with hot, tall blond boys with gorgeous
brown eyes.
"I thought you wanted to talk," Zack gasps as he tries to remain calm, cool,
collected and fails miserably.
"Let's talk about - Jesus, Zack, you're hot - let's talk about why you've been
avoiding me," Cary says as he rubs his cock on Zack's leg.
"I'm with Freddy now," he says, arching his neck as Cary's sucks on his
collarbone.
"Has he said this?"
Zack is silent, because no, they haven't really "defined" anything yet, but he
knows.
"Exactly. And I don't care if you don't."
Cary's other hand is pushing Zack's sweat pants and boxers down, then is
pulling something out of his pants pocket. He lets go of Zack's hands but
pushes his body flush against Zack to keep him from getting away, then squirts
a lot of lube onto his hands.
"Turn around, babe," he whispers hoarsely into Zack's ear. Zack shudders and
turns around. He knows full well what a bad idea this is, but he can't seem to
stop himself.
Cary's middle finger moves up and down Zack's crack before finally pushing into
the younger boy. Zack bites back a groan and thinks I am about to get fucked by
Cary Jones, thinks of all of the fantasies he has had over the past six years,
thinks of Cary's hot breath against his neck.
After what seems like an eternity, Cary pulls his fingers out. With one hand on
Zack's hip and the other squeezing the base of Zack's dick he pushes in, quick
and rough, and Zack's can't help but whimper and breathe open-mouthed onto the
wall.
"Fuck, babe, you're so fucking sexy," Cary says thickly as he pushes himself in
and out of Zack. Cary, as Zack finds out, talks a lot during sex, saying a lot
of things that Zack's can't or won't understand, little mumbles about "so
tight" and "God" and "yes." Zack just squeezes his eyes shut and scrapes at the
wall as Cary fucked him.
Cary comes quickly, shouting something that resembles Zack's name. He gives
Zack's cock an extra squeeze and then Zack is coming all over Cary's wall.
They slump to the ground, panting heavily. And they just sit there, until Zack
finally stumbles out of the room and into the shower
.
When he slips back into Freddy's bed after a thorough cleaning, Freddy stirs,
smiles at him, and kisses his lips softly.
"I wish we were older and could live together," Freddy says, squeezing Zack
closer.
Zack kisses him back as firmly as he can, reassuring himself that Freddy is
still there, will always be there.
 
Freddy complains of Cabin Fever and starts dancing around like a Muppet, so
Zack takes him out in his Volkswagen Convertible, candy apple red, a sixteenth
birthday gift. It snowed the night before, and everywhere is packed because of
the after-Christmas sales, but Freddy doesn't mind. He pushes the button and
the roof folds backwards.
"Fuck, Freddy!" Zack almost-screams as the cold, winter air slaps his face.
"We'll just have to find a better way to keep warm," Freddy says, grinning. He
undoes his seatbelt and leans over, hand protectively around Zack's waist, head
resting on Zack's shoulder. Zack can smell his shampoo, the same shampoo he
himself has been using, and it makes him smile, even in the cold air.
They go to a park, local enough that they still know where they can go for food
afterward, but far enough away that they're pretty sure nobody they know would
be there. Not that their friends usually hang out at parks, but a lot of them
have younger siblings, and Freddy and Zack aren't ready to take their chances,
ruin this.
Freddy isn't anyway, Zack thinks bitterly.
Some ten year olds are playing baseball, and a few mothers are with their
younger children in the stands, but the playground is surprisingly empty.
"Wanna race?" Freddy asks. Zack nods, and they count it off, Freddy running
after "two," Zack chasing after him. He catches up and grabs Freddy by his
belt-loops, making the both of them tumble onto the bouncy-ground, not-sand,
safer material of the playground.
"Shit!" Freddy laughs, then grabs Zack's face and kisses him, hard, quick, then
rolls them over and runs to the swing.
"Push me," he says simply. He swings his legs back and forth, and it is too
sweet for Zack to do anything but obey.
"I always wanted to try to go over the top," Zack says after a particularly
hard push that makes Freddy laugh and hold onto the chains tighter.
"Wanna go for it?" Freddy asks, swinging his legs hard.
"Didn't you ever see that Recess episode? I don't want you falling into an
alternate dimension right when I just got you," Zack says, pushing lighter to
emphasize his point.
"Fucktard," Freddy says, and Zack knows that, if he could see, those pretty,
brown eyes would be rolling. "You've always had me."
And it's cute enough to make Zack blush, grab the chains, turn Freddy around
and kiss him.
"I still can't believe we're doing this," Freddy says against Zack's lips. He
pulls back and pats his lap, motioning for Zack to sit on it.
Zack laughs, shaking his head.
"We'll break it," he explains.
"You calling me fat?"
So Zack does, which leads to a lot of laughing and screeching as they turn the
seat around over and over and finally let go, spinning until they both fall
off.
They see a movie, which Zack admits is mostly an excuse to get to hold Freddy's
hand in the dark and, okay, kiss a little bit, but only during the boring
parts. They get McDonalds for lunch and for dinner, which is, okay, mostly an
excuse to flirt with Freddy by throwing fries at his face and an excuse to
clean up the ketchup that always ends up in the corner of Freddy's mouth. With
his tongue, of course.
Freddy and Zack only finally climb back in the car after Freddy's mom call
them, worried, wanting to make sure that they haven't been kidnapped. Still,
even after they've arrived back at Freddy's house they sit in Zack's car for
awhile, talking.
"So, I've been thinking," Freddy says as he rubs the back of Zack's hand with
his own thumb. "We should wait a few weeks to tell my parents. Then they won't
make you sleep somewhere else."
Zack nods, smiling. Freddy wants people to know. Freddy wants his parents to
know. Freddy wants him, so badly that he doesn't mind people knowing that they
are in a gay, gay relationship.
"Okay," Zack says, then leans over and kisses Freddy. "Let's go inside."
And they do, and they watch some MTV show with Nicole, and they go upstairs and
make out until they fall asleep.
And it's pretty perfect.
 
"So what did you and my brother do yesterday?"
Zack swings around, and it's Cary, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs,
sporting morning-wood, and Zack groans.
"Can you please just go away, Cary?" he asks, and his knows his voice sounds
whiny and pathetic but maybe it's because he is whiny and pathetic, because
he's tired of betraying his best friend, his boyfriend?
But Cary comes closer, looks at the counter, picks at the waffles Zack had been
making for Freddy.
"Are you guys really together?" he asks, picking up the rest of the waffle and
sticking it in his mouth.
"Yeah," Zack says, and it feels good to say it. "We're gonna tell our parents
in a few weeks. So we can still literally sleep together."
Cary nods, chewing thoughtfully. He swallows, grins.
"Can't convince you to give me a good-bye blowjob?"
Zack rolls his eyes and turns back to the waffle-maker, which is making that
beeping noise.
"I was kidding," Cary laughs, patting Zack on the shoulder. "You are a great
fuck, Zack. My brother is lucky."
Zack bites his lip. And it's so fucked-up, but he feels like he and Cary can
maybe be friends now, like he can tell him anything.
It's amazing how having somebody up your ass can make you more open to them.
"Cary? You're why I realized I was gay," Zack says, even though it sounds so
girly.
"What, just a few days ago?" Cary asks, voice horrified.
"No, like, six years ago."
Cary laughs and jumps on the counter.
"Um, thanks. And hey, I won't tell anybody if you won't. Besides, me and my
girlfriend back at college have an understanding, so it doesn't really matter
for me. She's probably fucking some hot guy in Georgia right now."
"You're really fucked up, you now that?" Zack says, trying to bite back the
laughter. It's so surreal, so surreal.
"You know you love me," he says, jumping off the counter. He slaps Zack's ass
and turns around, heading back out of the kitchen. "Give me a call if my
brother ever dumps your ass."
"You wish," Zack calls out, and he realizes that he means it, because he never
wants to let Freddy go.
 
When they see Cary off at the airport, it's emotional. Zack is an only child
and his own parents barely like each other, so he doesn't really have a full
grasp on what a real family is like. And, since he has been fucking two of the
sons at the same time, he knows that he can't even say that he has learned from
the Jones family.
Still, they are obviously close, and the parents obviously miss their child at
college a lot. And maybe it's just more heightened because they know that, in a
few years, Freddy will be leaving for college, too.
"Call me more," Mrs. Jones says when she finally pulls away from her son.
He smiles, then turns to Freddy.
"Bye," he says, then mouths "bitch" so that he won't be yelled at, and then
finally hugs his little brother.
He hugs Nicole, a huge bear-hug and tells her to tell all the boys at school to
fuck off.
And then, finally, he hugs Zack, slipping something into Zack's back pocket as
he does so.
"He is lucky, you know," Cary whispers. "You're fucking awesome."
Zack smiles and pats Cary on the back. When they pull apart, Mrs. Jones is
crying, Mr. Jones looks confused, Nicole looks like she's about to laugh, and
Freddy just looks angry.
"What?" Cary says, shrugging. "He's practically family."
And, for once, Zack feels like it's true.
 
That night Zack and Freddy lay in bed together, naked, hard, kissing furiously.
"I want you," Freddy whispers into Zack's ear, smiling. Zack grins and moved to
find his pants, coming back with lube.
"Where did you get that?" Freddy asks, shocked. "I mean, hot, but fuck, we're
together, like, all day."
"Christmas present," Zack says, and he leaves it at that as he smears a good
amount on his fingers.
And when he slides into Freddy it's good, because they are looking at each
other, because they are kissing, because it's how it always should have been,
right since they met each other.
"You're better than your waffles," Freddy says.
And it's so fucked up, this whole thing, Zack can't even deal with it, doesn't
know what to think, how to feel. But for now, for this moment, it's almost
enough.
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