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Jesse’s pacing outside the in-field care center when Dale grabs his shoulder. He’s running exclusively on adrenaline right now, shaking out of his skin with worry, and Dale’s presence is jarring.
“Have you seen him?” Dale asks, looking as shaken as Jesse feels. Or would feel, if he let himself feel anything other than fine.
Because if he thinks of what could actually be happening here, he’d probably fall apart right here on the Watkins Glen concrete.
“No uh,” Jesse shakes his head, “No, it’s not- I’m not-”
He’d tried to go in and see Connor, but they’d asked if he was family, and he couldn’t say yes. So, here he is. Pacing, cold, and standing in front of Connor’s boss, who doesn’t seem to know if Connor is dead or alive.
“Right,” Dale looks between Jesse and the doors to the care center.
“Have you heard anything?” Jesse asks, tries to pretend like he doesn’t care. Maybe if he doesn’t care, Connor will be okay and Jesse will see him again and-
“He’s awake and talking,” Dale says, and Jesse’s knees buckle with relief.
“Hey, hey,” Dale puts an arm around him, “Maybe you should sit down.”
“He’s okay?” Jesse chokes out, letting Dale walk him to the retaining wall next to the care center.
“Sure is,” Dale gives him a small smile, “I’ll do my best to get him out of there and back to you as soon as I can.”
“I-” Jesse sits down hard, tucking his feet up and wrapping his arms around his legs, “Thanks.”
Dale pats his shoulder again before he disappears into the care center.
They send him to the hospital, and they still won’t let Jesse see him. At some point, someone comes to find him, Danny maybe, and he manages to walk back to his bus. He doesn’t really remember getting from the wall to the bus, though. He just keeps replaying the scene of Connor falling off his car over and over.
He tries to scroll to distract himself, but the clip is everywhere. He leans over the sink as his stomach contorts, but only bile comes up. It’s been hours since he last ate, and he feels it, sudden and dizzying. The floor comes up at him fast, and he lies there, too exhausted and worried to get up.
He’s still lying there when his bus door opens and Connor walks in, followed by Dale. Jesse scrambles up to his feet, and the room spins. But it doesn’t matter because Connor is here, and alive, and real, and… he’s got a sling around his shoulder, holding his arm to his chest.
“Broken collarbone,” Dale announces, patting Connor on his other, non-injured shoulder. “But no concussion!”
Jesse tries to give him a smile at that. Connor’s just staring at him, unblinking.
“Uh, good?” Jesse wants to touch Connor so bad, but he buries his hands in his pockets instead, waiting for Dale to say something else.
“Do you think you can look after him?” Jesse does not think so. But he’s not about to let Connor walk out the door again, go somewhere Jesse can’t follow, again, “He just needs pain meds every few hours, and he can’t roll over onto his shoulder.”
“Yeah, you got it,” Jesse forces himself to nod. He can figure this out. It can’t be much harder than looking after his sister’s dog. Connor can at least tell him if something is wrong.
Dale looks between them, and even he looks like he doubts Jesse’s ability to look after a very injured Connor. But still, he sets his shoulders and nods, “Good then. I’ll call in the morning.”
He sets the bag of pain meds next to the door and waves goodbye, heading out into the night.
And now, it’s just them.
“Dude,” Jesse says. There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t find the words. He still sees Connor falling off the car every time he blinks.
“Dude,” Connor agrees.
He sits down hard on the couch and slumps over onto his good shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Jesse asks, itching to lie down with him and check him over himself. But he stays standing, afraid to hurt the man sitting in front of him more than he already is.
“I guess?” Connor raises his eyebrows, but Jesse can hear the fear and exhaustion in his voice. His hands shake, a mix of the pain pills and exhaustion, as he reaches for the pillow next to him, trying to tuck it under his head.
Jesse meets him halfway and, in his attempt to slide the pillow closer to Connor, bumps his shoulder, which causes him to cry out in pain.
“Shit,” Jesse jumps back, putting his hands up like he’s trying to calm a stray dog.
“It’s okay,” Connor breathes out through gritted teeth.
The alarm on his phone rings out, and they both jump. Jesse goes to the bag to retrieve the bottle of pain meds and squints at it.
“I think it’s two pills every four hours,” Connor mutters, attempting to sit up without using his one arm.
“Hold still,” Jesse cautions, soothing a hand down Connor’s cheek as he helps him sit up.
Connor’s hair is messy, and he’s pale, almost sick-looking. Jesse just wants to wrap him up in 500 blankets and maybe some bubble wrap and put him to bed.
Pain meds first, though.
He retrieves a bottle of water from his fridge and opens the lid before he crosses back to the couch, sitting down next to Connor. Jesse’s not sure if it’s voluntary or not, but Connor leans against him, putting most of his weight on Jesse’s side.
“God, I’m so tired,” Connor groans, taking the pills Jesse shakes out and then the bottle of water.
Jesse waits for him to swallow, “Dude, you fucking won the race.”
They both laugh, and he feels Connor stiffen against him, the pain of the motion shooting through his broken bone. “It feels like it was three years ago.”
“Yeah,” Jesse echoes, glaring at Connor until he keeps drinking the water, “I was really worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbles.
“No, no,” Jesse presses a kiss to his hair, “You don’t have to be sorry, it was just- I didn’t know if you were even alive.”
“I’m tough,” Connor does his best to look like he’s not nursing a broken collarbone, like he didn’t fall off his car just a few hours ago.
“I know,” Jesse shakes his head. He doesn’t need Connor to know how worried he was, how he thought he might never see him again, how he almost lost his person.
“Jesse,” Connor says quietly, and he turns his head.
Connor meets him halfway, brushing their lips together, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s okay,” Jesse blinks away the tears gathering on his lashes, “You’re okay, so I’m fine,”
“I’m going to try and change something on my forms so you can come in next time, I don’t know why-”
“A problem for tomorrow,” Jesse soothes, a hand down his back, “Time to sleep.”
Connor nods. He’s blinking heavier now, and Jesse knows the meds are kicking in. That and the inevitable exhaustion of racing, falling, two hospital trips, and then being left in the care of Jesse Love Jr.
“Cold,” Connor mumbles, toppling sideways slightly as Jesse tries to stand up.
“Just lie down for one second,” Jesse presses a kiss to his hair, “I’ll get you a sweater and we can go to bed.”
He adjusts the pillow and helps Connor lie on his good side. He looks so small and delicate, like he isn’t the biggest star of the sport. Like he’s just the Connor Zilisch that Jesse grew up with.
Jesse shakes his head and forces himself to go into the bedroom. He pulls out his softest, biggest sweater for Connor and pulls on a random shirt and shorts that smell halfway clean. He has no idea how they are going to stop Connor from rolling over onto his bad shoulder, and his breath catches at the thought.
What the fuck is he doing, looking after Connor? He’s not a doctor! He could hurt him, he could make it worse. He doesn’t know the first thing about looking after someone with a broken bone. Jesse should call Dale and make him come back and take Connor somewhere else. Somewhere with an adult. A real one, not a Jesse-shaped one.
But when he walks out into the living room to find his phone, his eyes catch on Connor, now fast asleep on the couch. Connor would believe in Jesse’s ability to do this. Connor would trust him with his life.
He can do this for the beautiful boy curled up on his couch. Connor would do it for him.
It’s no use trying to get Connor to the bedroom. He’s out cold, and Jesse would just hurt him more if he tried to lift him.
(They had tried that once and it had gone very badly, both of them landing in a heap on the ground, laughing so hard Jesse thought his stomach would never stop hurting).
So he settles for gathering all of the pillows left in the bus, putting them next to the couch. If Connor rolls off the couch, he’ll at least have something soft to land on. The couch solves the sleeping on the good side issue, too, being too narrow for Connor to roll back onto his bad shoulder.
Finding the two blankets on the bus, Jesse places both of them over Connor, hoping it will stop the shivering. He returns to the bedroom, grabs his own pillow and the comforter, and drags them to the living room.
The floor isn’t the most comfortable, but it’ll do. He settles into his makeshift bed, sets his alarm to wake Connor in a few hours, and tries to get some sleep.
Dale comes back to the bus in the morning. Jesse’s managed to get some food into Connor, along with a few more rounds of pain meds, and his boyfriend finally looks a bit more human. They’d managed to get him into Jesse’s giant hoodie, and Jesse's eyes keep catching on Connor, sitting across from him at the table, dwarfed in this fabric. It’s cute. He’s just so damn relieved Connor’s alive.
Dale, it appears, is pleased to see that too: “Wow, you made it through the night!”
Jesse and Connor make eye contact, and Jesse gives a small smile, “Easy peasy,” he lies through his teeth.
Dale offers him a high-five, which Jesse reluctantly returns, Connor giggling quietly in the background.
“No Cup race for you,” Dale points at Connor, “Obviously.”
Connor sighs, and Jesse sees the weight of the world fall back onto his shoulders.
“Rest up and I’ll see you at the shop on Monday to discuss things, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
As soon as Dale is gone, Connor gets up, sliding into the booth next to Jesse, immediately clinging to him.
“I’m sorry about the Cup race,” Jesse says into Connor’s hair.
“It’s fine,” Connor says, even though it’s not. “Can we at least watch it together?”
“’Course,” Jesse smiles.
Later, they settle onto the couch, Connor between Jesse’s legs, head resting against Jesse’s chest. Connor’s already locked into the race, watching Shane race with the lead. Jesse buries his face in Connor’s hair and just breathes and thanks whoever the hell is up there that Connor is here, more or less in one piece. He savours it. If Connor is okay, Jesse is fine. He can keep going.
Soon, they’re both yelling at the TV, and Connor laughs, eyes bright and wide, like everything is normal. Something loosens in Jesse’s chest, and he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding, tucking Connor closer and settling in to watch the 88 lap the fucking field.