First published: 15 July 2006
Pairing: JM/JM D’OH!
Summary: JM and JM are getting together for the first time.
Disclaimer: ‘It’s just fiction!’
Reviews: Yes, please.
A/N: Here’s how they got started in my mix-up of a history. If you take all my stories about JM and JM you’ll see it all fits together. Really!
John didn’t hate Mraz, he only had a hard time taking him serious. To John Mraz was like a funny cartoon which lived in its own dream world awkwardly. He didn’t like Mraz’ lack of mission, his attitude towards his job and the misplaced cockiness. John couldn’t understand how he could do without a mission. The attitude was light years away from John’s and Mraz really didn’t have a good reason to be cocky. Beside that he was nothing more than a boy in blue t-shirt, faded jeans and worn out sneakers. He was the red base ball cap he seemed to wear all the time. He was the boy with the voice, and the boy that had kept John alert since 2002. He was John's personal reminder of how lucky he had been and still was. He was a reminder about his talents and his mission. All together he meant more to John than he would ever admit, and that was the main reason John made a point of making a fool of Mraz. He didn't stick out from the crowd when he was just hanging around; John would always find him though. His dark brown eyes searched the masses till he found the red spot moving around the stage, always meeting new people, always polite and cheerful. It was a way of hiding, John knew. And John knew more than he ever wanted to.
John was aware of his obligations to keep the love flowing among his colleagues, and he would never exclude Mraz from his round of colleagues he regularly contacted out of politeness. It was politics, and Mraz had already proven himself worthy to have an eye kept on him. That and the media kept comparing them all the time which kept throwing them back at the, by now ancient, fight they once apparently had. It was far from funny and all based on miscommunication. Also the comparisons made no sense; not even their attitudes towards music were miles apart, so was the music itself. They had made a few arrangements to keep future fights to a minimum and to shush the media before they had the nerves to make up a new rumor. The only thing they had accomplished together with success. They never managed to really get to know each other, or even give the other a fair chance. They would never admit it, because they were both polite well raised boys, but they were made to fight each other. John bit his lower lip while his eyes wandered over the crowd. He had the advantage of being tall, but that didn’t help him very much. Mraz was pretty short and always anonymous; he really didn’t stand out from a crowd. Neither did John, but he always seems to attract more attention than Mraz. John knew he just had to be patient, because Mraz would always catch his eye, no matter how anonymous he was.
It was a funny feeling in his tummy, something he always tried to suppress. It was something he never told Mraz about, nor any of his friends or family. It was something he really didn’t want to think about, but it kept creeping up on him whenever he was to meet Mraz. It wasn’t nervousness. It wasn’t hate, not even dislike. It wasn’t the feeling of not really wanting. It was something else, something John made sure he wouldn’t figure out afraid of what it might be. His moving wasn’t relaxed and self-assured as usual. He seemed a little nervous. John took great care in getting his breathing back to normal. All the symptoms were there, but John ignored them. He had to get a grip of himself. He saw Mraz slowly coming his way. Some people stopped him to have a little chat. John watched how Jason politely answered a few questions and then told them he had to proceed. They let him go involuntarily. After a few minutes John finally found him staring down at the red cap.
John's always dark eyes against the boy's ever changing eyes. The cap cast a shadow over most of his face, coloring the eyes a dark shining brown.
“We've got a problem again?” the red cap wanted to know.
John shook his head: “No, I just came to say hi...and see how you're doin'.”
Casually, almost carelessly, the boy found his way through the New York crowd; John held back half a step to stay in the slower pace of the shorter man. Opposite all the awkward situations were the relaxed moments they always seemed to share. It always happened somewhere in between losing control and realizing he lost control. He wondered if Mraz felt the same way. John loved the way he was laid back, he loved the simplicity and openness and the natural friendliness. He was surprised by how fierce he could be and how strong he was in a fight. It made John wonder what made him that way, because in that fierceness hid negativity, which was something that didn’t match this boy’s positive attitude. John guessed he was hiding a lot of hurt under that cap, and insecurity and bad high school memories. It didn’t give him a reason to be a prick though. And with the relaxed moments always came the harsh moments. Mraz was direct, something John wasn’t too used to. He was used to being direct himself and, unintentionally, hurt or offend people. Mraz had done it to him. That was one asset John couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.
John let his eyes secretly glide over his body, from his red cap to his worn out sneakers. He noticed how the blue shirt was clinging in all the right places and how the jeans sat comfortably on his waist. One must think he spent more time on appearance than he would let anyone believe; John certainly thought so. It was something he did as well. Looking casual and somewhat scruffy took a lot of time. Surprisingly, the shirt wasn’t pink today, something John expected. It was one of his trademarks, something he carried out way better than John ever carried out his trademarks (if he had them anyway). Jason Mraz loves pink and pink equals Jason Mraz. That made Mraz more gay than John.
“Hey, why don’t you pick a place? You know this place better than I do?”
John was only half paying attention: “Hmmm?” he answered distracted.
Mraz looked up at him: “I meant you know New York better than I do.”
John’s eyes settled onto Mraz’s. Those eyes distracted him. The soft friendly lips distracted him and the boyish charm always got to him. He wanted to see and feel it, but he despised it at the same time.
“To eat something,” Mraz continued trying to make himself clear.
John answered in a calm cool manner: “Oh, yeah.”
They ended up in a boot somewhere in the back of a shady little restaurant. They sat opposite of each other, their knees almost touching. John watched Mraz settling down; digging his cell phone from his jean pocket and putting it on the table next to where his plate was supposed to go, and supplying himself with enough napkins.
Mraz turned to him with a polite smile: “So, what are you up to?”
“Oh, uh…” John replied. He had to think about it, because he was again distracted.
“I’m busy finishing my third record and I’m preparing to start touring.”
Mraz nodded in response: “I’m touring right now.”
John studied Mraz’ face thoughtfully. He could see in his eyes he was nervous. Mraz had lost a little of his composure; it gave John a boost. He could now take matters in his own hands, he could take the reigns and steer this pretty baby back home. He always was taller than Mraz, but Mraz had shown himself John’s equal in power of speech and stubbornness. Most people gave up or got convinced John was right, Mraz didn’t give up and didn’t get convinced either. John was on top of the charm game, but Mraz had beat him to it once or twice. The more reason to hate him or like him. Mraz looked up with a pleasant smile.
“Maybe we could do something together on stage on one of these evenings?” Mraz tried to spark up the conversation again.
John nodded half-heartedly as he cleared the table for the waitress to put down their drinks.
“You don’t have to,” Mraz sniffed with a hint of irritation in his voice.
John was immediately alarmed; he didn’t need another bashing: “No no, I agree actually.”
Mraz sat staring at him: “You surely don’t mean that?” His eyes a dangerous bright green.
John was puzzled by that reply: “You really think of me as an ogre?”
Mraz shrugged: “And how do you see me?”
Mraz was on a roll today. John tried to catch his eyes, but they were hidden under the cap. He was looking John straight in the eyes. John took his time to think up his strategy buying himself time by taking a long sip from his glass of water.
“I know I can’t fool you by saying I actually really like you.”
Mraz’ smile disappeared and his face contorted to a stiff grin.
John continued: “I think it wouldn’t hurt us to do it. Now it’s your turn. You really think of me as an ogre?”
Mraz’ eyes colored from a softer green to a harder black.
“No, I know better.”
John could sniff up a whiff of Mraz’s scent; he smelled like aftershave and something John couldn’t define. The only reason he was standing so close to Mraz was that it really was busy in New York. His hands ghosted casually along the lines of Mraz’ back. It didn’t matter how light the touch had been, and if John touched him at all; Mraz noticed and looked up at John his eyes filled with question marks.
“What the hell you think you’re doing?” he snapped under his breath.
John just looked down on him with icy eyes: “Don’t be so touchy,” he just bit back.
The irony escaped Mraz, but it resulted in a victorious smile around John’s lips.
Mraz looked him straight into his eyes. If it hadn’t been Mraz, John would have held a staring contest, only to win. But it was Mraz, and John lost. It annoyed him to no end, cause the elevator belonged to his domain, so Mraz had to back off and behave himself. Mraz looked around the hallway as John fumbled to get the house keys out of his pocket.
“Why exactly am I here,” Mraz wanted to know.
John looked over his shoulder at Mraz for a few seconds before pushing the door open and entering his apartment. As usual no one to greet him. “Why!?” he heard behind him. This time the voice sounded more forceful. John proceeded into his apartment switching on the lights and replying: “Because we decided to do something together.”
John heard the door slam shut, then it remained silent behind him so he turned to see if Mraz followed him inside or changed his mind. Mraz stood there still looking around, the red cap now in his hands held in front of his privates as if he was trying to hide something. John kept his stare dead on. In his domain, Mraz was now in his domain. What role would Mraz take on? Would he be the polite visitor, or would he let John become the perfect host?
“We could have gone to my hotel,” Mraz stated without emotion.
John decided to be the perfect host: “Yeah, but here’s more comfortable. Want something to drink?”
“What you’re trying to do?”
John who was now in his kitchen turned back to Mraz again.
“What’s wrong with you today? Don’t you trust me at all?”
John got another shrug as an answer, and another throw-back: “Can I trust you?”
It didn’t shake John. Unmoved he offered a glass of juice: “Sure. I can’t afford to kill or abuse you, or something like that.”
John lead Mraz into his living room and offered him a seat.
“Sit down….Would you do it?” he wondered out loud as Mraz started to settle in the cushions on the couch.
“Do wot?” he mumbled.
“Do something bad to me.”
Jason looked up at him. He looked tired all of a sudden.
“Must we fight?” now his voice sounded tired as well.
John sat down in a comfy chair from where he could keep an eye on Mraz.
“You opened the fire,” John reminded him.
Mraz stayed silent for a while, but didn’t take his eyes off of John. Finally he stated: “That’s so immature.”
Their hands touched only shortly as John took the empty glass from Mraz. The conversation had halted abruptly after Mraz turned his attention on the world outside John’s apartment seen from a huge window. He seemed sad. John brought the glasses to the kitchen en didn’t expect them to work on anything today. How could he get Mraz out of his apartment? He really didn’t want to be rude; he would never let Mraz win that game. When John returned to the living room, Mraz didn’t seem to have moved.
“You want to work on something?”
Mraz came back to life immediately: “Yeah, I’ve got something I can’t get right, maybe you have ideas.”
John was taken aback by that. Had Mraz chosen a new strategy or was he being sincere and did he really want John to look at one of his songs. John figured he was being serious since he was unpacking and preparing his guitar. After he finished tuning he looked up at John again. The sadness was still there, but something new, something undefined had settled in his eyes as well. Light brown and distracted they started to hide under the lids. Jason played a friendly song with his eyes closed. His guitar supported his soothing clear voice nicely. John was still too baffled to pay close attention, so he couldn’t come up with ideas nor recommendations for the song when Jason looked at him expectantly. If Mraz hadn’t been serious and this was just his newest strategy; he had just won.
“I’m missing something here, but I can’t put my finger on it,” Mraz explained.
He looked so fragile to John; it almost made him feel for him. It didn’t matter anymore whether this was real or another test; John had to act with his heart guiding him.
“I’m gonna get my guitar,” he announced.
Mraz nodded shortly and returned his attention on the strings under his slightly calloused finger tips.
John was happy with the little song they worked on together, but he couldn’t be thrilled since Mraz didn’t seem to find his way with it. He was still looking sad and tired.
“You ok?” he asked in between bites from his Chinese food.
Mraz sat awkwardly wrestling with his noodles. His eyes only quickly scanned John’s face before returning to the food. He tried to catch the noodles with his chopsticks, something he normally succeeded in, but this time they landed half in the cup and half on his clothes. He heard John reacting and jumping to his feed.
“Oh, I’ll get ya a napkin, or something.”
Seconds later John kneeled next to Jason wiping the food off of his t-shirt carefully. He pointed at the ugly stains: “That’s grease, you need to get it out now.”
Jason nodded silently. Without thinking he pulled the hem of his shirt up and tried to suck the stain off. He realized a little late how stupid that must have looked. John didn’t think much though; he got distracted by the stroke of tanned skin peeking out from under his shirt. Jason noticed, his tongue still to his shirt, his eyes lightning up. John noticed, his eyes dark as always and a still smile appearing around his lips. Jason quickly retreated his tongue.
“I’ve got a washing machine,” John said.
Jason let go of the hem of his shirt slowly: “Then I have to get my shirt off.” It almost sounded like something bad. John laughed and nodded: “Yeah. Unless you wish to take ride in my washing machine yourself. I can get you one of my shirts.”
Jason nodded; yeah, that sounded acceptable.
Jason almost drowned in the shirt. He saw John had trouble not to laugh. He thought for a bit, then he decided.
“This is ridiculous.”
John watched in amazement how Jason started to take off the shirt again. He was a skinny little guy, but John was awed. There was that feeling again, only a million times stronger and more intense.
“You don’t mind I hope,” Jason checked.
John shook his head quickly. He admired the modest chest rising and falling gently with each breath. He wondered how warm and silky Jason’s skin would feel under his touch. He almost took a step back when Jason approached him; in his extended hand the shirt. John grabbed it uncoordinated and he grabbed a good deal of Jason’s fingers too. He realized it soon, but his fingers wouldn’t let go. They’re eyes got a hold on each other. It felt like years, in reality it were only a few seconds. They’re eyes locked and the world started to turn around them. They were the centre of everything, of all life. Jason overwhelmed John by acting bold; he suddenly stepped forward and kissed John straight on the lips. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours. Their lips parted, their eyes locked again. Their lips were glistening in the dull light. Their eyes were sparkling. Their cheeks were flushed. Only a few seconds before Jason stepped back averting his eyes from John.
He whispered hardly audible: “Sorry.”
This time it was John’s turn to be bold. His long arms grabbed Jason’s body tightly and pulled him close to John. Their mouths smacked together, they soon found their ways into each other. John hungrily sucked at Jason’s tongue, stroking him with his own. His whole body surging; he adjusted his composure to hide the fact he had a hard on. Even though the doors opened up, John felt embarrassed. Jason apparently recovered completely; his hand swerved its way to John’s privates. He laid his hand on the delicate flesh carefully. John yelped in surprise as Jason pushed and rubbed him. It felt like they were wrestling, so hard Jason was pushing into him. John was overwhelmed with all kind of feelings. He felt warmth glowing from Jason pushing right against his shirt and jeans. He felt passion flowing from Jason, grabbing him and holding him. He felt excitement caused by Jason’s fist. It made him push Jason off him.
Jason flushed a bright red coloring from his cheeks to behind his ears. His fist wiping against his jeans, as if he was trying to rub John’s odor off on his jeans. Now he looked embarrassed. He was staring to the ground, his breathing still uneven and heavy. John was still catching his breath as well. He stared down at Jason with big eyes. He pushed him away while he didn’t really wanted to. He just needed some time to realize what was going on. Control was completely gone. He was close to him again. This time he put a finger under Jason’s chin to pull his face up, so he could see those eyes. Hazel burning hot. John reconnected their lips. He whispered against the pink smooth lips.
“What you’re doing to me?”
Jason didn’t answer; he only closed his lips around John’s. So sweet. Nothing was truer than them holding and discovering each other. With words unspoken they both knew they were one. They knew they shared more than they ever admitted. Right now all that didn’t matter. John led Jason to his bedroom to find more comfort. They’re fingers entwined, no eye contact. They didn’t want to get reminded of their sexuality. They didn’t want to think about their shared past. Only ‘now’ counted. Jason sat down on the side of the bed following John’s every move. John turned out the bedside lamp keeping it half dark in the room. He studied Jason’s slender form in awe. How could he be so beautiful? Jason folded his skinny arms around his naked chest. He felt a little exposed, especially since John was still fully clothed. John sat down next to him, his hands folded in his lap. He looked at Jason, being grateful for the dull light. He couldn’t see the expression in Jason’s eyes and he knew Jason couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. He still felt a little embarrassed. His left hand leaning on the side of his bed close to Jason’s thigh.
“You want to get through with this?” John whispered; his voice louder than he intended to be in the silence between them.
Jason turned his head to John. John saw something shining in those eyes. He couldn’t hide a little smile when Jason nodded. Jason saw it, and a soft smile appeared around his lips. John’s hand was already on Jason’s thigh. It was supposed to be that way. He was sweet, John tasted it. Their hands together holding on. John laid him on the bed making sure everything was alright. Even though he didn’t want to hear it anymore, he always did make sure his lover’s head wouldn’t hit the bed without his hand behind it. Jason noticed, but remained silent. He caught John’s body in his arms and let his weight rest on his chest. Their lips so close again, their eyes could easily lock, again, but didn’t. John’s eyes cast down, Jason’s staring at John’s. He ended the awkward break by lifting his head and taking John’s lips again. He didn’t care anymore; he knew what he wanted and he didn’t care how he got it. He was also sure John wanted it too. He tasted John’s full lips, warm and sweet. It was a perfect match; sweet words from sweet lips. It was decided, tonight it was going to happen.
Around them was no rest of the world. It was just them. Sweet, hot, familiar and safe. Their tongues circling, stroking and discovering. Their nose bumping and rubbing against each other. Their hands on their bodies roaming over silky hot steaming skin. Their was no hiding his hard member, it was firmly planted into Jason’s crotch. To John’s relief Jason’s excitement was showing too. The longer their love wrestling lasted, the more they dared to admit to the situation. John timidly started pushing his hard member into his crotch, meeting Jason’s as a response. Jason moaned into John’s mouth approving John’s movement. He pushed himself up into John causing John to moan. John felt the excitement mounting, the jeans rubbing uncomfortably against his erection. It didn’t keep him from humping Jason, still timidly. Jason’s fingers dug into John’s butt pulling him even closer. The other hand felt down between them finding John pushing and rubbing. Jason found John’s hard member and closed his fingers around the hardness. He pushed and rubbed till he felt warm dampness spreading through the jeans. He retreated letting his arms fall away from John. John remained on Jason for a few seconds catching his breath and his senses.
Still too ashamed to go all the way.
He didn’t dare to look up when he stroke his index finger gingerly over soft delicate flesh. He loved the warm skin under his touch and the Goosebumps appearing on the surface. He’s done it to some women, and he always loved it. He had never done it to a man. Obviously the anatomy was different, and John hadn’t been sure what to do. They had wrestled their way through their love making. Now he was laying there in his own bed, his new found lover next to him. They were hiding from each other in the dimly lit bedroom. They stayed connected through a subtle touching of their fingers. It felt so good to have him there. And even though they hadn’t gone all the way, it had been great.
Things did change after that specific night. He didn’t stay; he went back to his hotel room. It was rumor control, or self-defense. It was out of embarrassment or a lack of knowledge about how to proceed from now on. John had no clue. All he knew was that the next day Jason acted as if nothing unusual happened. The game was back on, to John’s disappointment. A few short seconds just the two of them, in a dressing room. John wanted to know how things were between them. Jason never made any eye-contact and he even seemed grateful for his band mate’s interruption. John was disappointed, he hoped they could figure out how they could spend more time together, but Jason didn’t seem to be very interested.
“John?” Jason’s head peeked shyly around the door.
John turned in surprise; he didn’t expect Jason to come to him anymore, not after the dressing room disaster.
“I’m sorry for my behavior early today. I just need some time.”
John nodded hardly visible. He understood, but it didn’t take away much from his disappointment.
“I’m really sorry, but I’m not ready yet.” Jason’s eyes looked sad again, but John refrained from holding him.
“I do love you, will you wait for me?”
John’s dark eyes studied Jason’s just as dark eyes; his messy hair hidden under another monotonous cap. He understood and nodded.
“I’ll wait for you. You’re my opportunistic lover.”
Jason smiled at John’s wordplay.