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And You Think You Know Me

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The College AU – Learn to Play the Straight Man

Peter noticed him immediately. He wasn't the typical type to frequent the Notre Dame drama department and he stood out like a sore thumb with his varsity jacket, new crew cut and awkward stance. Probably wasn't used to being around all the queers and fairies, since they were usually kept well-hidden on Notre Dame's perfect campus.

"Who is that delicious specimen?" Diane murmured in his ear and Peter jumped. For such a loud personality, Diane was surprisingly good at sneaking up on people.

Diane giggled and dodged his light smack. "Bit pre-occupied, are we, darling?" she asked, slinging her arm around him. "Checking out new meat?"

"Nah." Peter shrugged. "He's probably just here to congratulate his little sister on her bit part in the chorus or something."

Diane peered over at him again with a critical eye. "Classic closet case," she judged. "Catholic boarding school kid who probably experimented with his roommate or classmate. Then they both decided that they weren't gay and now he's here at Notre Dame proving that he's still a good Catholic boy deep down."

"Jason!" Nadia's voice bellowed behind them and the guy looked over. "I got the Nurse. Again." She rolled her eyes as he enfolded her in a brief hug and commiserated with her.

Peter exchanged a look with Diane. "Hmmm, now this could be interesting…" Diane let go of his waist and smacked him on the ass. "Look, I gotta go break the bad news to the rest of the kiddos that they'll never be Hollywood actors. But you? You need to hit that. Trust me."

Jason's eyes were an even brighter shade of blue up close. "Is that a baseball bat or are you just happy to see me?" he asked, and his smile revealed dimples that were momentarily blinding.

For a moment Peter thought he was dreaming because no way would a guy that gorgeous just open up with a cheesy line like that at this school. Then he remembered. "What? Oh, yeah- prop for a scene we're running," he said, tossing the plastic bat aside. "I'm Peter, the assistant stage manager. Hey, you planning on trying out? We can always use more guys."

"Jason. And no thank, I got baseball," Jason said casually. "I'm just here for my sister." But his eyes followed with a quick, familiar flick up-and-down that Peter decided it was worth the risk.

"Well, if you do-" he took Jason's hand, and pulled out his sharpie pen. He could feel the tension in Jason's hand as he wrote down his number and he knew that Jason was looking all around to see if anyone was watching them but to his credit, Jason didn't pull away. And Peter didn't sign his name.

"Thanks," Jason said, watching him warily. "I'll think about it."

"Yeah, no problem," Peter said, and he watched Jason walk away.

*

Diane's gaydar was surprisingly good, Peter thought briefly later on as he was peeling off Jason's tight Fighting Irish t-shirt, revealing hard abs underneath that bunched and pimpled with goosebumps as he moved his hand up and down them before moving lower.

"Fuck, you're good," Jason moaned, as Peter sucked slow and dirty along his dick. "Peter. Oh, God. Peter."

Peter froze for a moment. The need and longing in Jason's voice was plain to hear, and if there's any lesson that Peter had learned in his bumfuck-nowhere-boarding-school in Maine, was that guys like Jason were trouble with a capital T. And yet, strangely hard to resist. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he concentrated on the task at hand, giving Jason the best head he'd ever had.

"I'm not gay, you know," Jason said quietly, as they both pulled on their clothes.

Peter turned and met Jason's pleading gaze squarely but he held back the words he knew would only make this impossible between the two of them.

"I just… you know. Can we keep this a secret? Between us?"

"Yeah, that's cool," Peter said weakly.

Jason's smile was luminescent and he pulled Peter close for a brief, hard kiss. "Awesome. Look, I gotta get to practice. But I'll call, okay?"

Peter stared after him. Christ, he was a sucker for pretty closest cases. He was in trouble.

*

Hooker AU - In a Fantasy I Dream Awake

Fuck it, he was twenty-three, making a six-figure salary, had just been accepted to Harvard's business school and yet here he was, trawling an agency service for an acceptable girl to bring to his boss's dinner party. Pathetic. His blackberry buzzed beside his hand, and a brief glance showed him that it was Ivy calling. Of course. Probably wanting to ask him about more money to pay for Emily's tuition. His mom had mentioned that Ivy had managed to get their daughter into one of the prestigious Manhattan kindergartens. For a moment, Jason thought about asking Ivy if she'd come along with him to the dinner party in exchange for him giving her the money, but then he came to his senses.

He shut off his phone and turned his attention back to the site. On the sidebar, there was a link that he had been avoiding all evening.
He clicked on it.

He scrolled through it idly, knowing that he'd probably not have the nerve. His usual hook-ups involved random bars and dirty toilets. It wasn't pretty but he'd long been used to working this way. Ever since he'd left St Cecilia's.

His shirtsleeve caught on the pad and the mouse clicked off the page and stopped scrolling. And a profile caught his eye, along with the words, "specialty: Catholic schoolboy."

In shock, he sat, staring at the picture for half an hour, indecisive. He shouldn't.

Five minutes later, he hit the 'order button.'

*

He looked even better in person. Pale, fresh-faced and freckled and looking utterly, utterly fuckable. And familiar. So fucking familiar.

"Jason." Peter looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Wait, don't go." Jason caught his arm.

Peter shook him off. "Still doing this, are you? Hiding?"

"Shit, Peter. Are you really doing much better? I mean – what the hell are you doing with your life? Why are you doing this?"

"None of your fucking business," Peter's mouth was closed in a tight line. He stepped through the door and shut it. "Let's just do this, relive our old schooldays," he said bitterly. He pulled off his jacket and Jason felt the air contract around him.

"Is that your St Cecilia's ti-"

"Yes." Across the room, Peter's stony face crumpled and he stiffened, his hand still on the doorknob, ready to bolt.

Jason reacted. He always had, could never resist Peter being unhappy– well, not until the end, when it had all gone wrong.

It wasn't pretty. It never was.

Peter grabbed at him, pulling him close. "I fucking missed you." And Jason felt something inside him uncoil, become undone and he muttered something that might've been me too. And then it was teeth again skin and ties coming undone and blazers thrown off and hands on dicks and sliding wetly together. It was stifled cries and mouths and tongues in familiar places and fitting together like they had never been apart.

*

Afterward it was quiet, like the calm before a hurricane.

He could feel Peter shaking, and he wrapped himself around him, kissing the freckles along the back of his neck. Slowly, Peter stilled, and he turned to face him, tucking his head along Jason's collarbone, his hair brushing against Jason's chin. They didn't speak. Soon, one of them would break the silent embrace and they'd have to face whatever this was. Whatever this was going to be, if anything again.

It wouldn't be pretty but then again, life never was.

*