Adam's been moving slowly these last few days, ever since that myth with the car and the seventeen free-range chickens, and it's not like Jamie hasn't noticed--Adam's caught him looking.
But the problem with Jamie is that he doesn't do anything, even when he's noticing. He just watches, and waits, and he never tries to get in close and, oh, "accidentally" bump up against Adam or anything. Not that kind of guy. Adam gets that, he really does, but... c'mon. He's bruised from neck to ankles, just about, and really? Nothing? Really?
When he strips down for the latest myth (the thing with the trombone will look great when they air it, and he's not above getting naked for the benefit of SCIENCE!), Jamie takes a little longer looking him over than usual. Ah ha ha! Success! Adam thinks, and even though the trombone action hurts, he's not really complaining, because Jamie's looking at him. Jamie's definitely looking, and it has nothing to do with where that trombone is and what it's doing.
At the end of the day, he and Jamie have a few minutes to be alone--the crew's gone home and it's nothing but the two of them and their tools, a whole workshop that needs to be organized and which they trust no one to organize but themselves.
Jamie looks critically at the end of the trombone. "Well, that's--that's pretty much done with," he says, turning the bell over and over in his hands. "I really don't think we can salvage that."
"And I have the marks to prove it," Adam says. Jamie's head snaps up, and he's looking again--looking the way Adam wants him to look, dammit. They've been at this for long enough, right? Any sane, reasonable guy would've just jumped Adam and been done with it.
Of course, if either Adam or Jamie was sane, they probably never would've ended up together, so there's always that.
Not important. Distractions. Adam needs to figure out what to say next, needs to figure out a way to turn his line about being all marked up into something that Jamie will decide he needs to take advantage of. Like right now. Now would be good. Now would be excellent. Now would be great.
But Jamie says something first, much to Adam's surprise.
"Let me see that again."
He's still holding onto the bell end of the trombone, so Adam shoots him a look of his own. "Which part?"
Jamie raises both eyebrows--just a little--and waits. Okay, Adam didn't really need to ask that question. He could hold out, but--at this point, why? It'd just mean waiting longer to get what he wants.
So he takes his shirt off, and when Jamie keeps on just... standing... there, he kicks off his shoes and drops his pants, too.
Jamie's eyes trace a path over him, bruise to bruise to bruise, and Adam tries not to fidget. He's glad he's still got his boxers, but oh man, boxers don't cover much of anything, do they? They really don't, and right now he's got an awful lot to cover.
"I think you ought to do something about that," Jamie says quietly, and zing!, Adam's pretty much ready for anything Jamie could suggest. He's thinking blowjobs! He's thinking improvised lube!
He is not thinking "jerk off and touch those bruises while I watch", but it turns out that's what Jamie's thinking, and okay, okay, okay, Adam can go for that. Adam can really go for that.
So a couple minutes later he's braced up against a shelf, head tilted back, looking way, way up at the warehouse ceiling, while Jamie stands there with his arms crossed, nodding, like Adam's just another experiment and they're trying to figure out whether a guy can, in fact, shoot his jizz two and a half feet and hit his buddy on the walrus-style mustache. Or, hey, at least the shirt. Or the pants. Or, okay, Adam would settle for the shoes.
Jamie comes up close and rests his hand on Adam's arm, where the darkest series of bruises are, and he scratches really lightly up, up, and up, and Adam's jaw drops open as he jerks off faster and faster, ready to come as soon as Jamie says--
Adam was kind of expecting "ignition" or "fire in the hole", but he'll take "now". He gasps, mouth wide open, and Jamie quickly steps out of the way as Adam comes--which means Adam ends up shooting a couple of feet forward and onto the concrete, which is not what he'd expected, but it does mean they can measure the distance later, at least. He finishes himself off with a few hard-but-slow strokes, panting softly, and lets his head drop back as he catches his breath.
"Not bad," Jamie says, and Adam looks back up at him, staring. Not bad? "We'll have to try this again tomorrow. Or Friday."
Adam licks his lips. "Tomorrow works for me," he says.
"Good. Tomorrow." Jamie glances around and grabs a clean cloth off one of their workbenches, and he hands it over. "Nice range."
Adam looks down at the floor. "You think?" He's not so sure about that; he thinks he's done better. "You want to go get a measuring tape while I get dressed?"
Jamie actually cracks a smile. "Okay."
He ambles off, and Adam finishes cleaning himself off and starts pulling his clothes back on. Not what he expected, maybe, but it's not bad for a first try.