Caught Running (26 page)
When the game ended, Brandon glanced at the clock and groaned. 11:30. He started stacking papers and sliding them into his backpack in resignation. Jake had asked him to stay after Brandon had expressed his desire to wake up with him. But tonight it just wouldn't work. He had no clothes for work and his tests for tomorrow were on his computer at home.
"Spring training games can bite my ass,” Jake grumbled as he clicked off the television. He looked over at Brandon and tried not to sigh. He knew Brandon had things to take care of at home.
Brandon chuckled and pulled off his glasses. “Opening day next week,” he reminded as he closed his pack and stood up. Jake muttered disconsolately and sulked on the couch. “Christ, don't do that, Jake. I'll be driving home and back at 4 a.m.,” Brandon said.
Jake glanced up at him in surprise and then huffed and stood up slowly. “You'd better get going if you're going to get any sleep,” he said, stepping closer to slide his hands around Brandon's waist.
"You know I don't want to go, right?” Brandon murmured, leaning his temple against Jake's lips.
"Mm hmm,” Jake responded with a little huff.
Brandon sighed. “I'll see you tomorrow. Wash my uniform, will you?” he asked. “At least the pants and briefs."
"Oh sure, leave me alone
and
make me do manual labor,” Jake teased with a little kiss to Brandon's ear before he pulled back. “Yeah, I'll wash ‘em."
"Thanks,” Brandon said, smiling. Reluctant to leave, he made himself step back, pick up his pack, and start for the door.
Jake watched him go with his shoulders hunched and his hands deep in the pockets of his sweats. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to stay or come back. And since that was exactly what Jake wanted to do, he kept his mouth shut.
"Hey, Jake?” Brandon asked from where he stopped in the doorway, keys in hand.
"Yeah?” Jake answered, trying to keep his voice even.
Several things warred for the opportunity to be spoken, and for a moment Brandon was afraid it would all spew out. After a long pause, he settled on, “Miss you already.” And he was out the door before he lost the nerve to do what he had to do. Life had to go on, after all. Never mind that it hurt like hell to leave his lover.
Jake frowned as the door closed and sniffed loudly. He shuffled over to the front door and stood by the side window, watching as Brandon drove away.
Standing beside the bus with a clipboard, Brandon tried to give out assignments to the players, two to a room, usually by grade level. He and Jonathan had spent the better part of the evening a few days ago thrashing out who could safely bunk with who. The guys stacked the gear and bags all around, blocking a big chunk of asphalt in the corner lot of the Holiday Inn Holidome in Tampa Bay, and the assistant coach sighed as he tried to get their attention again, finally losing his temper.
"Shut your traps and line up or you're all sleeping on the damn bus!” he barked over all their chatter, drawing huge eyes and silence. Coach Bartlett
never
yelled.
Jake raised his head and peered down from the window of the charter bus at Brandon, just as surprised as the kids seemed to be. He watched the boys all calm down and gather their things, and the other coaches began handing out room keys and checking off names.
The players didn't even peep as a disgruntled Coach Bartlett read off names and room assignments, and soon they scattered, heading into the hotel, glad to be free of constant supervision for awhile—not that Coach Campbell hadn't put the fear of God into them about leaving the premises without permission.
Sighing, Brandon muttered a ‘yeah’ to one of the college guys’ question if he was okay. He wasn't okay. He was fucking exhausted. He'd slept all the way down here and felt worse. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this cranky. Jonathan whistled in wonder and gave Brandon a wide berth as he climbed back into the bus.
"Hey Coach,” Jonathan said quietly, approaching Jake. “What's with Bartlett? He's a bear today."
Jake shrugged and glanced back out the window. “No idea,” he murmured.
"Well, I hope he works it out before this evening. I don't want to be in a room with him all night if he's in a snit,” Jonathan said, picking up his duffle.
"I thought we each had our own rooms?” Jake asked as he straightened from repacking the bag he'd just been rifling through.
"Well, we did, until we got here and checked in. The hotel sold out too many rooms, so we had to double bunk. I put Troy in with you,” Jonathan said and then he squinted. “Maybe that's why he's so pissed. He might have been looking forward to some peace and quiet on his own.” He didn't sound offended, just thoughtful.
Jake swallowed, mind whirring as he tried to think of a way to fix this without being too suspicious. Finally he smirked and stuffed the last shirt into the bag. “I'll trade you Troy for Brandon,” he offered playfully as he zipped up the bag. “Bastard snores like a freight train."
"How do you know ... oh, yeah, from when he crashes at your place after away games. Well, hell, I won't turn down that offer. Troy's cuter anyway. Snoring doesn't bother me,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “Here,” he said, holding out a key, “trade me."
Jake reached out and took the key, smirking still. “You base your roommate choices on looks?” he teased.
"Nah, just my chances of getting laid,” Jonathan shot back with a wide wink as he walked backward down the aisle. “And I was thinking my chances with Brandon were below nil, so even Troy's gotta be better.” He laughed at his own joke as he exited the bus.
Jake raised his eyebrow and smiled, glancing back out the window at Brandon with a frown. He should know, after a month of being the man's lover, what was wrong with him tonight. But he was ashamed to admit that he had no clue. His chances of getting laid were probably pretty low as well.
Brandon knew he was being an asshole, but he was worn out, stressed, annoyed ... You name it, he felt it. He'd been looking forward to having his own room so Jake could be with him—or he with Jake—but then the room shakeup blew that all to hell.
The last week before spring break had disintegrated into utter hell: Two weeks of state testing, finishing up grading on annual tests, grades, A.P. exam prep, and baseball games on four out of seven nights. Brandon hadn't slept more than three hours a night, even at Jake's house. He was at the end of his rope, and he'd really been hoping this trip would make a difference.
He jerked his bag up onto his shoulder and slammed the storage compartment doors shut. Wasn't looking good.
Jake stepped out of the bus stairwell and glanced around to make sure the others were gone before he sauntered over to Brandon's side and gave him a shit-eating grin. “Cranky,” he observed mildly.
Brandon gave him a very clear look that said ‘don't push me.’ “You have no idea,” he muttered, feeling much worse about the room assignments now that his lover stood right next to him. Surely they could find some time somewhere, somehow. Or else Brandon was going to go absolutely fucking insane.
Jake waved his traded key and smiled even under the withering glare Brandon had given him. “I forgot to ask Jonathan which room it was."
"What room?” Brandon asked tiredly, patting his pockets, looking for the key card he'd stashed somewhere.
"Our room,” Jake answered, watching Brandon closely.
Brandon looked at him blankly for a long moment. “Our room?” he whispered, something like hope flashing in his eyes.
"Jonathan begged me to take you because he didn't want to be eaten in his sleep,” Jake informed Brandon primly, barely hiding the smile.
It was all Brandon could do not to drop all his bags and throw himself at Jake, and it was clear on his face. “Oh God,
thank you
,” he whispered fervently.
Jake grinned and chuckled. “Maybe when we get in there you can tell me what's wrong?” he ventured as he turned and began to head for the hotel entrance.
Brandon sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. Nothing major,” he murmured. “Just letting it get to me.” He led the way through the automatic doors, making for the entrance to the Holidome. The Parkview team had all the rooms on the left side of the pool, with the coaches’ rooms dotted through the row. Glancing at his key card, Brandon made a face. It looked like they were all the way at the end.
Jake glanced around the hotel and grinned. “Hey, pool bar!” he cried happily, veering off like a little kid with a short attention span.
Glancing after him, Brandon rolled his eyes before following. Jake was already getting a beer when he got to the bar, and Brandon let his bags thump to the outdoor-carpeted floor. He scooted himself up onto a stool next to the other coach with a sigh. When the bartender looked to him, he requested, “Vodka twist. A double."
"Uh oh,” Jake murmured as the man popped the top off his beer and slid it over the bar to him. “It's a
drinking
problem?” he asked, semi-worried.
Brandon rubbed at his eyes, thanking the bartender and taking a big swallow of the vodka, wincing before giving himself a shake and making a face. “I'm a mess,” he muttered.
"Why?” Jake asked with a small frown.
And the rest of the double shot went down. “You remember how we talked about burnout at the beginning of the season?” Brandon asked miserably. He gestured for another.
"Yeah,” Jake answered tentatively as he watched the glass drain. He'd offered to help several times, and Brandon had happily accepted, but he knew his various skills at grading and whatnot weren't nearly on par for the science teacher's high standards.
"I hit the wall this week. Hard.” Brandon picked up the second glass and took another swallow. Jake merely nodded, wondering if he'd have to carry Brandon to the room. He'd never seen him drink more than a few beers.
Sighing, Brandon pressed the back of his hand holding the shot glass to his forehead. “I even had help. I still hit the wall,” he mumbled. “Tom let me out of tutoring this week. Still didn't help. And here we make this trip, and I feel like utter shit."
Jake pursed his lips and looked off into the two-story lobby of the hotel, complete with indoor pool, hot tub, restaurant, and bar. “You could catch a flight home,” he suggested with a careful shrug.
Brandon looked over at him, wishing he could say what he wanted out loud. He'd been wanting to say something for over a month now. He and Jake had been together about seven weeks, and to him, it had just gotten better and better. Except for working so much he didn't have time to sleep, much less get in anything else but a quickie with his boyfriend. Brandon winced. “Don't want to,” he said.
"You could miss the game in the morning,” Jake suggested. “Could say you're sick and just stay in and sleep. We've got plenty of extra coaches without the freshman team here."
Looking a little petulant, Brandon visibly suppressed the urge to pout. He didn't want to sleep unless he was with Jake. He'd found the last couple of weeks that he didn't really want to do much of anything without Jake. He threw back the rest of his drink and tossed a twenty on the bar. “How about we take a load off in the room? My ass is killing me from that damn bus."
"All righty,” Jake agreed, taking his beer bottle with him. He had never even unshouldered his bag.
Brandon groaned and leaned over to drag his bag and backpack off the floor and start trudging down the walkway past the pool, reading off numbers under his breath. They got to the very end of the row, and no room. He frowned and looked down a little hall, and there off by itself was another room, a handicap-accessible one—right next to the vending machines. He checked the number. Yep. He keyed open the door and walked in.
"Snazzy,” Jake muttered as he followed his cranky lover into the room.
Letting his bags drop to the floor, Brandon turned and watched Jake close the door and step into the wide open room. Then he walked right over to him and wrapped one arm around Jake's neck, the other around his waist. He buried his face in Jake's shoulder and clung. Jake pulled him close and nuzzled against his temple as he hummed soothingly. He'd had these days before. He knew that sometimes you just needed to be cuddled and cooed to.
Brandon clutched him closer, letting himself ever so slowly relax, safe in Jake's arms. The soft sounds and touches helped, and after a couple of long minutes he asked in a small voice, “Would you hold me while I nap? Just for a little while?"
"Yeah,” Jake murmured in answer, turning his head to kiss Brandon's cheek. “I've got to make the rounds first, though, okay?"
Nodding, Brandon squeezed him tight before letting go. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing the T-shirt Jake had given him forever ago. “I'm gonna unpack,” he said.
Jake reached out and grabbed his shirt, tugging him closer to kiss him slowly. “Why don't you just crawl into bed?” he suggested in a low voice.
Sighing when Jake's lips pulled away, Brandon blinked at him sleepily. “Want to wait for you,” he admitted.
Jake cocked his head in surprise and smiled slightly. “I'll be fast, then,” he promised as he stepped away and turned to the door.
Brandon wrapped his arms around himself and watched Jake go. He was just wasted enough to think about going with him. Instead he grabbed his bag and tossed it on the dresser, then hefted up his backpack. He seriously thought about chucking it out the window. It would have been more impressive if the room wasn't on the first floor. But he stood there staring at the window anyway.
Jake made the rounds, going first to Troy and Jonathan's room to get the master list and then going to each room to check the kids. He took their IDs, including the fake ones, and the kids all handed them over readily because they knew Jake would give them back when they got home without a word about them. He gave each group the same warning he always did about being caught out of the rooms: buying a bus ticket home and turning in their uniforms were the least of their problems if they wandered.
It took nearly an hour, but Jake was certain that no one would be out of line tonight when he returned to the room he and Brandon shared.
Brandon managed to make it twenty minutes before sitting on the edge of the bed, another ten before he leaned back against the headboard. Five minutes after that he'd collapsed over to hug a pillow to him as he fell into a troubled doze. It was hard to sleep without Jake now. It felt wrong.
Jake entered the room quietly and stepped up to the end of the bed in his sock feet. With a small smile he began taking off most of his clothing. He didn't dare strip when it was possible that someone might knock on their door at any moment, but he got down to his boxers and crawled into bed behind Brandon. He curled around him and kissed the back of his neck softly.
Just the warmth of Jake close was enough for Brandon to start relaxing, and he sighed his lover's name, already mostly asleep. The furrows carved on his face smoothed as he turned up his chin to press his cheek to Jake's lips.
"Hey baby,” Jake murmured in Brandon's ear, pulling him closer.
"Mmmmmm?” Brandon shifted to his back, turning toward Jake instinctively.
Jake pulled him closer and kissed him. “You drunk?” he asked in amusement.
Brandon's lips turned up slightly. “God, I wish,” he mumbled, “'cept then I wouldn't be able to appreciate this.” He kept turning until his chest pressed against Jake's, sliding his face into the curve of Jake's neck, pressing his lips to soft skin.
"One day I'm gonna get you drunk,” Jake promised with a smirk, “and grope you."
Brandon groaned. “You don't want to do that. Really. I'm a silly-ass drunk."
"And that's different than normal how?” Jake chuckled, cuddling Brandon closer to him.