Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/332374.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Brand_New, Taking_Back_Sunday
  Relationship:
      Jesse_Lacey/John_Nolan
  Character:
      Jesse_Lacey, John_Nolan
  Additional Tags:
      Slash
  Series:
      Part 1 of Jesse_&_John
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-03 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 4727
****** The Tension and the Terror ******
by battalions_(orphan_account)
Summary
     In light of what's happened with Jessey Lacey, I don't feel
     comfortable having this fic on my profile anymore. That said, it is a
     Thing I Wrote and I put in time and care, and for that reason I don't
     want to delete it forever. I also don't feel like I can abdicate
     responsibility for having written this work, so I've decided to
     orphan this while leaving my pseud on. You can contact me about it if
     you like. Mina.
     =====================================================================
     So it comes down to me and you and
     whether we’re supposed to or not we still will.
     We’re so much better off than them.
      
      
      
     Covers Jesse Lacey and John Nolan’s relationship from their first
     meeting to their junior year of high school.
Notes
     Past tense, third-person limited; Jesse-centric.
     Originally_posted on Mibba on July 27, 2011.
***** Chapter 1 *****

If you’re starting from the beginning, the absolute very beginning,
you’d have to go back to when Jesse and John met: nine-years-old, fourth
grade. Ms. Hendrickson’s class. They sat next to each other because of
their last names: Jesse’s started with an “L” and
John’s with an “N”. No one in the class had a last name
that started with an “M”, and for that Jesse would always be
glad, no matter what happened and what changed and how he felt about John.
Within a week they were best friends.

Jesse remembered deciding John was the cutest boy in class, and that this was a
good thing: an asset that made John a more valuable friend. The logic behind
this decision was vague as only a child’s reasoning could be; but, after
all, everyone likes cute people and if you’re friends with someone cute
they like you too. So it made sense, pretty much.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter by Mina
And then there were the years Jesse really discovered the wonders of
masturbation: ten-, eleven-, twelve-years-old. He could only do it in the
bathroom because he shared a bedroom and it was just too shameful to do that
with his poor brother asleep five feet away.

At first he didn’t really know what he was supposed to think about while
he was jerking off; girls, yes, but which ones? And which parts? He let himself
figure it out; let his mind wander from his former babysitter’s breasts
to his sister’s friend’s legs to Christina Applegate to the
sounds people made in movies that let you know they were having sex even when
you couldn’t see them.

He wasn’t sure when John first crossed his mind while jacking off.
Whenever the first time was, it was brief. Fleeting. He didn’t dwell on
it when it happened – it wasn’t a big deal; all kinds of things
flashed through his head when he was doing that, things that weren’t
sexual in the least: cars and trees and the feeling of standing up to your
waist in the ocean. And everyone remembered the lecture the school nurse had
given to just the boys in fifth grade, about how you could have wet dreams
about anything, even baseball, so it wasn’t a big deal, really.

John’s intrusions on his fantasies were gradual. There was no threshold
Jesse could identify; no moment when the amount of time spent thinking about
John became unacceptable. All he knew was that when he was thirteen he decided
he was going to stop all together, but that was mostly because he thought his
mom was getting suspicious; not because of anything to do with John.

Except then Carly got a scholarship to a boarding school in Massachusetts for
gifted kids, and since she was going to be out of the house for nine months of
the year Jesse’s parents decided they would change the bedroom
arrangements, and for the first time for as long as Jesse could remember, he
had his very own room – with a door that locked, no less.

But jacking off in bed before he went to sleep was different from jacking off
in the bathroom in the daytime; it was harder to keep track of his thoughts,
and touching himself wasn’t always even a conscious decision; it all ran
together: thinking about his day, about what would happen tomorrow, about the
girl he had a crush on, and then his hand would be down his shorts and his
breathing would be heavy. And if sometimes his hand reached down there while he
was still thinking about sitting next to John in class or watching TV at the
Nolans’, well, he didn’t really notice.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter by Mina
They went to a party when they were thirteen, one of those parties in a cool
kid’s basement where the parents don’t check up on them, and
there was a game of spin-the-bottle. Melissa DiLeo spun and got Jesse and they
shared a chaste peck to the “Ooo”s of the circle; Jesse barely
had time to feel anything. And then it was Jesse’s turn to spin so he
did, a mixture of excitement and dread in his stomach as he watched the bottle
go. He thought he might throw up as it slowed, which was stupid because he knew
all the girls there and they were nice and everyone knew it was just a game.
For a second he thought it was going to land on him again, like maybe
he’d have to kiss himself, and then he thought it was going to stop on
the girl to his left, but it didn’t; when the bottle stopped it was
pointing directly at John.

Jesse felt a bubble of nervous giddiness rise from his stomach and it burst in
his mouth in the form of a laugh that was too high-pitched to be completely
okay. He looked over at John, who looked back at him with the same expression
of amusement laced with anxiety. Everyone was laughing, and Jesse was frozen,
but then someone said, “It’s okay, Jess, we’ll let you go
again – unless you want to kiss John,” which elicited more
laughter from the group, and Jesse’s muscles were stiff but he leaned in
and spun the bottle again, muttering, “I don’t think so.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter by Mina
When they were fifteen John asked out Amanda Plumber, and Jesse was sick with
jealousy.

First of John, because he kind of liked Amanda, and had told John as much, and
John was a jerk for asking her out when he knew Jesse kind of liked her. He
felt most envious when the two of them touched: when they held hands and played
footsie and snuck kisses when teachers weren’t looking. But he was
jealous of Amanda too, because John was his best friend but suddenly he
wasn’t around as much; he was off with Amanda and that just
wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to ditch your friends just
because you got a girlfriend.

And it was only very late at night when half asleep that Jesse could
acknowledge to himself that he wasn’t just jealous that John got to
touch Amanda; he was jealous that Amanda got to touch John.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter by Mina
The summer they were sixteen was one of those perfect magic summers, even
though it didn’t always feel like it at the time. Late in August Jesse
and John managed to go to a real high school party, almost like the type you
see in movies but not quite. They spent that day at the beach, and then went to
John’s house for dinner. Jesse’s parents thought he was staying
there the whole time for a sleepover, and John’s parents thought they
were going to another friend’s house and then to a late movie. They
trusted John and his best friend; just told the boys to be quiet when they came
in and to lock the door behind them.

They emerged from the party around one in the morning, both drunk for the first
time. They were talking too loudly and laughing because how were they ever
going to be quiet when they came in? But the long walk back to John’s
house and the humidity, still thick in the air even at night, sapped their
energy and they were dragging their feet on those last few blocks.

John’s bed looked wonderfully inviting as they entered his room, and
they both sat on it with no real plan of how they would transition to sleeping.

“Shit,” John said, “I am so fucking exhausted.”
They had both been brought up not to swear and they both did so when their
parents weren’t around, but John more than Jesse.

“You’re not going to make me sleep on the floor, are you?”
asked Jesse. John had a full size bed: easily big enough for two skinny boys.
When they were kids they’d slept in it together unquestioningly, but any
time Jesse stayed over for the past several years they fought over who got to
sleep in the bed and who had to sleep on the floor. Sometimes Jesse took the
floor and sometimes John did, and sometimes they just gave up fighting and
slept in the bed together.

“No,” said John. Tonight they were too tired for an argument.
Tonight it made more sense to just skip to the inevitable.

“Good,” said Jesse, kicking off his shoes. John did the same and
removed his glasses as well, setting them on his bedside table. Then they both
stood to strip off their shirts and jeans. John’s windows were wide
open, but they tempted no breeze; the room was hot and stuffy. If either were
alone, they’d sleep in just their boxers, so what was the point of
suffering in extra layers of clothing? It wasn’t like they cared.

Turning back to the bed, Jesse put one knee on it uncertainly. He
couldn’t remember which side he was supposed to sleep on or how they
were supposed to get in with the bed pushed into a corner like it was. John
climbed on and knelt in the very center of the mattress, grinning stupidly.
Jesse collapsed onto his left side, lying across the bottom of the bed, and
started laughing, like maybe he was just going to stay like that, maybe that
would be how they would divide up the bed, maybe. It was a low, dull laugh, and
John joined him; everything seemed funny again, as it had when they first left
the party.

Jesse tried to sit up but couldn’t quite do it, so he threw his right
hand out clumsily for support and pushed himself upright. It was only when he
was sitting that he really noticed that his hand wasn’t on the mattress,
but on John’s thigh.

They stared at Jesse’s hand for a moment and then laughed more, harder
than before, and Jesse was just so tired. It finally occurred to him to move
his hand, and he did, onto the mattress right next to John, and since his arm
was already in position he started to sort of crawl towards him, with hazy
intentions of making it to one of the pillows that lay behind John at the head
of the bed.

But then he noticed that their faces were very close together, his and
John’s, and he paused and sat up properly, and looked at his friend, and
they were both still laughing – what an odd situation to be in; to have
your face so close to your friend’s.

John leaned in – less than an inch – and kissed Jesse, very
quickly, on the lips.

That really set them off; John laughed so loudly that he threw his hand over
his mouth in shock, his eyes wide, and they both remembered that they were
supposed to be quiet because John’s family was sleeping, but knowing
they had to stop laughing made it impossible, and they laughed so hard that
Jesse’s stomach ached.

And gosh wasn’t that funny, what John did, and Jesse thought it would be
even funnier if he did it too, so he did, another kiss on the lips. Quick.

John couldn’t contain himself with laughing; his head bent over and his
forehead brushed against Jesse’s bare shoulder; this was by far the
funniest thing either had ever done, and he righted his head and they kissed
again.

They broke apart but this time didn’t move as far away; this time they
could still feel the other’s breath on their faces. It felt nice,
John’s breath, and that was as far as Jesse’s thought process got
before they were kissing again. He couldn’t remember who was kissing
whom, but it wasn’t really pecks anymore. Jesse opened his mouth a
little bit, and then a little bit more, and then he felt John’s tongue
slide across his. Except for their mouths and Jesse’s knee brushing
against John’s, they weren’t touching at all.

He couldn’t say when, but eventually his hand drifted down to his
boxers. At first it just rested there, and then he was rubbing himself through
the thin fabric. And then he was pushing the waistband down and touching
himself in earnest, which was normal, wasn’t it, because didn’t
all sixteen-year-old boys jack off? And wasn’t alcohol supposed to make
you horny? And it felt good, so really, what was the problem? Jesse
couldn’t think of any, but he wasn’t trying very hard.

As his breathing got heavy it became too difficult to continue kissing, so
Jesse stopped; pulled his mouth away but leaned his forehead in, rested it
against John’s. His eyes fluttered open and he saw that John was doing
the same thing he was – but he’d already known that. And maybe he
didn’t want to look at that anymore; maybe he didn’t want to see
John’s hand working furiously over his length; maybe that was why Jesse
squeezed his eyes shut and crushed his mouth against John’s; pushed his
tongue between his teeth. Yeah, that was probably it.

John groaned softly and his muscles tensed, and just as Jesse registered why
that was happening he came, too; shot off all over his hand.

They pulled apart completely now, and Jesse couldn’t think of what to
do, but John did: He got up and came back and shoved some tissues at Jesse.
Jesse wiped up his cum and then noticed that a drop had landed on John’s
sheets; he licked his finger and rubbed at it and hoped the other boy
wouldn’t notice.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter by Mina
The next morning Jesse woke up in John’s bed, alone. That wasn’t
unusual. In the early years when Jesse slept over at John’s house it was
an Event: whoever woke up first would pretend to still be asleep until the
other awoke, and then they would go downstairs together and John’s mom
would make them pancakes or waffles. But Jesse staying the night had long since
become a common occurrence; sometimes John’s dad and sister
didn’t even know beforehand; they would just see him there in the
morning and say, “Oh, hi Jesse.”

The first thing Jesse remembered was that he’d been drunk the night
before; he was reminded of this by his pounding headache. Next he remembered
what he and John had done, but only in passing.

It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d seen John’s
dick. When they were ten they’d decided to see who was bigger, but it
only seemed fair that they made their judgments at their best, so they’d
stood hip-to-hip, pants around their ankles, and rubbed themselves until they
were hard and then compared (they were about the same at the time). And it
wasn’t like they didn’t talk about masturbating. They made jokes
about it all the time. So what if they’d done it in front of each other?
Neither had really even had their eyes open much.

And the kissing, well, that was nothing. Kissing wasn’t a big deal at
all. It was just lips, really. It could be anyone’s lips. It
didn’t matter who was doing it; it didn’t mean anything.

That’s what Jesse would’ve thought if he really thought about it,
but he didn’t really, because his head was throbbing. He pulled on his
T-shirt from the night before and then dug a pair of John’s sweatpants
out of his drawer; it was only on his way downstairs that he remembered it was
a Friday, so John’s mom was at work and his dad had office hours and his
sister was off being a CIT at a Christian day camp, so it didn’t really
matter if he walked around in his underwear.

John was in the kitchen eating a breakfast of cereal; Jesse gave him a grunt of
acknowledgment on entering and went to prepare a bowl for himself. When he sat
down in the chair next to John, their legs bumped against each other’s.

John twitched violently, pushing his chair a few inches away from Jesse and
splashing milk out of his bowl. “What the hell?” he shouted.

“What?” asked Jesse, confused – but not so much as not to
know that he should be pissed.

There was a pause and then John said in a sharp voice, “I’m not
gay.”

“Neither am I,” said Jesse quickly.

“Then what –”

“What? You were the one who –”

“I didn’t!”

“It doesn’t even –,” Jesse struggled.
“It’s not… It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” John repeated. “It doesn’t
mean…”

“No,” Jesse agreed. “No, it doesn’t.”

And that was it; they went back to eating their cereal and back to being best
friends.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter by Mina
Months later Jesse was again staying over at John’s; again they were
both in his bed. They’d stopped having fights about who slept where.
Jesse woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t figure out what
was happening. He listened for a moment; stayed still, tried to understand
– and then he realized.

“John,” he whispered, “are you jacking off?”

“No,” mumbled John. “Fuck off. Go back to sleep.”

“You are!” hissed Jesse, more sure of himself by the moment. Yes,
that was definitely what was happening; it was clear now. “You’re
totally jacking off!”

“No, I’m not,” whispered John harshly.

“Yes you are!” said Jesse. He turned his head and saw the bump in
the sheets where there shouldn’t be one, and he felt a thrill of
excitement – because he was right; that was why; because he’d
caught John doing something embarrassing.

“No!’ said John roughly.

“Yes!” said Jesse, and he kicked John a little, bouncing the
mattress in his glee. “You’re jacking off!”

“No!” repeated John. “No, I’m not! Fuck you! Leave
me alone!”

“You are,” said Jesse, and he shot his hand out over
John’s crotch to prove it.

They both froze, realizing what Jesse had done. The heel of his hand was
pressed against John’s erection.

Jesse’s cock twitched with a sudden surge of blood.

He let out a slow, horrified breath and withdrew his hand. His fingertips
brushed John’s hips. Jesse’s muscles felt like they'd all cramped
up at once. It sounded like John wasn’t even breathing.

“Fuck you,” muttered Jesse, for lack of anything better to say.
He turned on his side and clutched the offending hand against his chest, like
it was contaminated or broken.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter by Mina
One Friday night Jesse and John were alone at the Nolans’ house.
John’s parents had just left for their date night – dinner and a
movie – and Michelle was at a sleepover for a friend’s birthday.
John and Jesse lounged on the couch in the living room, watching TV and
fighting over the remote.

“Wait, go back.”

“No.”

“I like that show!”

“It’s fucking stupid. We’re not watching it.”

“You’re stupid. Go back.”

“No.”

“Come on.” Still seated, Jesse kicked John in the calf.

“No!”

“John!” Jesse lunged across John to snatch the remote out of his
hand, but John was anticipating this; he lifted it above his head. Jesse
managed to catch his wrist; he could’ve gotten the remote except John
grabbed Jesse’s free arm, pinning it against his chest.

“You asshole!” Jesse shouted, and they struggled. Jesse freed his
arm but John shot his up, transferring the remote between hands, and dove
sideways to keep it away from Jesse. The blue-eyed boy reached over him,
stretching for the remote, but John’s long, gangly limbs were working in
his favor. He jerked his hips suddenly, booting Jesse sideways and onto the
floor. It didn’t hurt; John’s parents had a nice, thick carpet.
Jesse laughed and threw his arm up, clawing at John, still on the couch; he
grabbed his arm and pulled until John too fell to the floor, tangled on top of
Jesse.

They wrestled for several minutes, the remote getting slick with their sweat as
it was gripped and yanked.

John and Jesse were about the same height, but John was of a slighter build;
not as strong. At last Jesse pinned him down, his legs straddling John’s
hips, his hands holding John’s wrists above his head – but John
was still holding the remote. They grinned at each other in their deadlock.
Jesse knew if he lifted a hand for even a second he’d lose control;
there had to be a way to make John drop the remote – and then he
remembered the night they both got drunk the first time, Wasn’t that a
funny joke? – and he leaned down and kissed John.

When he pulled up again John wasn’t laughing; he was just staring at
Jesse. And Jesse didn’t really know what to do, or how to fix it, or how
to explain, so he just did what he wanted to do most at that moment, which was
lean down and kiss John again.

And John kissed him back – really kissed him: hungry, needy.
John’s hands relaxed and Jesse heard the remote fall to the floor with a
soft thud, but he didn’t care about that anymore; he let go of
John’s wrists, supporting his weight on his forearms now, and
John’s arms snaked around Jesse’s neck, around his waist,
touching his back —

Jesse began to grind his hips against John’s; an instinct, really. He
felt the bulge of John’s growing erection pressed against his own, and
he kept going; it felt good, and John must’ve thought so too, because he
lifted his hips off the floor to push himself against Jesse.

They pulled apart briefly to take off shirts and unbutton pants, and then Jesse
repositioned himself on top of John; like lovers this time, not wrestlers.

Jesse had never kissed anyone’s chest before; never kissed an expanse of
skin like that – it was different from kissing necks. John’s
gentle fingers tangled in Jesse’s hair and he gave a tiny whimper as
Jesse traced experimental patterns with the tip of his tongue. Jesse moved back
up to kiss John’s mouth: two tongues now, not one, and after a moment
John decided to press his thigh directly into Jesse’s crotch.

“Oh!” Jesse exulted, breaking from John’s mouth, but John
coaxed his lips back, and Jesse resumed grinding against him.

Lying on his back, John’s hands were free, and he used them to push away
the excess clothing: the jeans Jesse had hastily opened and his own corduroys.
His hands resumed roaming Jesse’s body, moving slowly, achingly slowly.
Jesse’s back, down beneath the waistband of his boxers, his hips, the
spot where his thigh met his groin, the tuft of hair —

Jesse moaned into John’s mouth, surprised at himself, and then bit
John’s lower lip when John’s hand at last firmly grasped his
cock, pulling it free of his boxers.

Overwhelmed, Jesse stopped kissing John for a moment and stretched his neck;
groaned. John had both of them in one hand, stroking them together. He pressed
his mouth to Jesse’s; they’d reached a rhythm and everything was
in synch – the movements of their hips and hands and tongues, and Jesse
had never felt anything like this before.

The smaller boy came first, his eyes squeezed shut; and then Jesse, his blue
eyes fixed on John’s face as long as he could keep them open.

For a long moment Jesse lay still on top of John, and then he rolled off and
lied beside him, lifting his hips to pull his underwear and jeans back up
around his waist.

John stood up suddenly, gripping his pants to keep them on rather than finding
the fly and button. He snatched his shirt from the floor and stormed off.

Jesse stared after him, shocked, then finally came to his senses and scrambled
to his feet. He remembered to take his shirt, but he didn’t put it on
because he still had cum on his stomach.

“John,” he called, his voice breaking. He followed the sound of
John’s stomping feet up the stairs and into his room.

“John,” he repeated. John was standing with his back to him,
cleaning himself off. He put his shirt on before turning around to Jesse.

“What?” he spat.

“I –,” Jesse fumbled. “I don’t know.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I –” Jesse was still confused. He couldn’t see
what John was fighting with him about.

“My dad’s a pastor, Jesse.”

Jesse furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I know,” he said defensively.

“No, you don’t know! I would get kicked out of my house if they
thought – and I’m not –”

“Well, I’m not either,” Jesse said huffily. “And my
parents would freak out, too, so –”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t in your living room. Anyone
could’ve walked in –”

“But they didn’t,” said Jesse. “They didn’t,
so…”

“No. Stop. Just stop. That’s it, okay, we
can’t…” He sank onto his bed. “Just…can you
just…can you just go?”

Jesse looked down at his T-shirt; fiddled with it. “Yeah, sure,”
he mumbled. It was his night to have the car; he could drive himself home. He
put his shirt on, ignoring the fact that a stain would surely seep into the
front, and turned to John’s bedroom door, grabbing his backpack from
where he’d tossed it hours before. He paused in the doorway and twisted
his head around – not enough to completely see John, but enough for John
to see his profile. “Are we – are we still going out with the
girls tomorrow night?”

John sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” said Jesse, and he left.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter by Mina
Things changed after that, but in small ways. Not things you could see in
daylight. Little things. They both had their licenses now, so Jesse stopped
staying over as much because he didn’t have to feel bad about asking his
or John’s parents for a ride home in the middle of the night; he could
just drive himself. When they were watching a scary movie, John didn’t
reach out to grab hands when the killer was in the mirror, which he’d
always done before; with everyone, not just Jesse. And when they went on double
dates, John constantly tried to upstage Jesse, even for really casual things;
they’d always been a little competitive about girls but all that was
intensified now. It was exhausting, really.

Most of the changing happened in Jesse’s head. Now in bed when he
reached under his boxers, he didn’t try to hide from himself the fact
that he was thinking about John.

It was strange but ultimately acceptable. After all, he lived on Long Island;
not exactly Nowheresville, Middle America. He knew there were plenty of people
out there who didn’t have a problem with two men having sex. He knew
there would be no lynch mob if he stood up in the cafeteria and announced that
he liked John in that way (unless you could have a mob of just one person,
because John would definitely try to lynch him if he did that). He knew his
parents wouldn’t really kick him out, as John’s might, and they
wouldn’t send him away to a straight-washing camp or forbid him from
seeing any boys ever again – they’d be upset, sure, but they
loved him no matter what, and Jesse was pretty certain that deep down they
didn’t think liking a boy was the end of the world, either.

Religion wasn’t as much of a factor as might be expected. Jesse’s
disillusionment with his parents’ brand of Christianity had been a long
time coming. The list of reasons was extensive, and his feelings for John were
tacked on at the bottom; an afterthought: And also I’m not completely
straight. And that disillusionment upset his parents, probably more than they
would’ve been about John, but they became aware of Jesse’s
eroding faith through subtle indicators, so there was never that moment of
shock and anger (finding out your son no longer listens to Christian rock bands
being much less provoking than, say, walking in on him humping his best
friend).

But some things didn’t change – couldn’t, Jesse thought at
the time – like how he and John still stayed up late talking and made
each other laugh until they couldn’t breathe, and how Jesse still
believed in God even if it wasn’t the God John’s dad preached
about. Liking John as more than a friend hurt, but not badly, because he had
absolute conviction that John loved him more than he loved anyone, even if they
didn’t touch. And Jesse wasn’t sure John didn’t want to
touch – he just needed time.

Jesse was considerably more patient than people gave him credit for.
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