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dracoqueen22a/n: Another oneshot from my series A Thousand Words, this one is a direct sequel to the third oneshot Not Meant to Be and was inspired by the song "Too Many Words" by Sick Puppies.
Title: Too Many Words
Rating: T
Warning: language, angst, selfbeta, oral, slashy relationship
Pairing: TrentxKale
Description: Trent doesn't know what he did wrong or why he should apologize. He just knows what he wants.
He's been pacing back and forth through the kitchen all day, unlit cigarette tucked between his fingers. Trent wishes he could light the damn thing in the house, but Jessie's rules persist and he doesn't dare get on her bad side. She pays all the damn bills and she could kick him out on his ass in a moment.
“Trent, for crying out loud, will you get out of the way!” Destiny cries, elbowing him aside as she struggles to pull things out of the refrigerator, piling them onto a huge plate which she will then take out to Chris. He's in charge of grilling today, and he's been stoked about it all morning.
Frankly, Trent's stomach has been twisted in knots. He can't fathom the thought of food, much less eating it.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he mutters, and evacuates, beating a hasty retreat back to his room.
He closes the door behind him, flicks the lock, and cuts the stereo on. A low and steady bass pumps into the room, along with a few heavy guitar riffs, which only add to his agitation. Trent plops down into his couch and turns, arm braced against the back as he watches out the window. He has a perfect view of the driveway.
He'll be able to see the moment Kale pulls up.
Trent stares out the window, puts the cigarette between his lips, and pretends he can taste the nicotine. He feels jittery, on edge, and as every car passes, he feels something in his stomach jump a little. He doesn't even know what he's going to say, he just knows he has to talk to Kale. They hadn't spoken since Kale ran out of here as though his ass were on fire two months ago. Not even on the phone.
Ashleigh's refused to speak to him since then too; Trent can care less about her. She's on the other side of the world just about, and she's not been close to him half as long as Kale has. He knows all he has to do is send her some flowers, talk a little sweet talk, and she'll be putty in his hands. She always comes crawling back.
Kale on the other hand... he's a trickier bastard. What does he want from Trent? He doesn't get it. He thought things were fine. He didn't know there was anything bothering Kale. He's always been the type to keep things close to his chest but still... how's Trent supposed to know something's wrong if Kale doesn't say so? How can he fix it?
Trent chews on his cigarette until it becomes a disgusting wrapper and tobacco paste in his mouth. Gagging, he spits the leavings into the trash can and tries to wash out the taste with a lukewarm can of soda.
Laughter and conversation drifts in through the cracked window, family and friends all gathered together for Chris' barbeque. There's no special occasion, just Chris sometimes gets in the mood to grill out and tends to invite half the town when he does. Kale, as Chris' brother, is damn near obligated to attend. And he can't deny the invitation without explaining why he doesn’t want to come. So this is the only chance Trent's going to get.
He wanders back toward the window, running a hand through his hair and sweeping it out of his face. He glances through the glass, and his heart leaps into his throat. A grey Suburban is pulling into the drive, and he knows it has to be Kale. No one else Chris knows drives a Suburban.
Agitated, Trent whirls away from the window, checks himself in the mirror and then throws the door open. He nearly bowls over Jessie in his haste, and tosses an apology over his shoulder. She's too busy on her phone to really care, flipping a hand at him as she disappears back into her bedroom. She'll emerge from her den long enough to grab a plate of food.
But Trent doesn't care about Jessie.
He weaves through the kitchen and heads into the car port, skirting around family and friends in an attempt to see Kale. Chris and Kale's mom is probably riding with him, so he can always use the excuse he's greeting her if he has to. He doesn't know how Kale is going to react to seeing him, and more than anything, Trent wants to avoid a scene.
Trent forces himself to act casual, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and tapping one into his hand. Outside, he can light up, so he pops the cigarette between his lips and digs out a lighter. He leans against the side of the house, nonchalantly watching as Kale puts the Suburban into park and the doors open.
Sylvia, Kale's mom, emerges from the back seat of all places, muttering something about Kale's driving that makes Trent grin. Kale's not exactly the best driver in the world, but miraculously, he's the only one in the family without an outstanding number of traffic tickets. Oh, he has his fair share, but at least he has his license. Which is better than Trent can say for Chris.
The Suburban's passenger door swings open too and Trent straightens, eyes narrowing. Who in the world...?
The cigarette topples from his lips to the concrete of the carport as Trent stares at the beautiful girl who's just stepped out of the vehicle. Long blond hair, to her waist at least which was a tiny thing, something Trent could wrap his hands around. Her eyes are a vivid blue, even from this distance, and Trent wonders how in the hell he's never met her before. His dick goes from zero to sixty in ten seconds at that cupid-bow mouth.
She's the sexiest thing he's seen this side of Texas and how in the hell has he never seen her before? Kale and Chris never mentioned having a sister.
“Hey, Trent!” Sylvia greets, spying him first and greeting him with outstretched arms that demand an embrace.
Trent willing gives her one. His mom's been dead for fifteen years and Sylvia's always been like a surrogate to him. “Hey, Sylvia. How was the drive up?”
She rolls her eyes, the same shade as Kale's. “You know how Kale is. Determined to give me a heart attack, that boy is.” Her gaze drops to the ground, brow lifting. “Did you know you dropped your cig?”
Trent curses under his breath and quickly stomps his heel over the flame. It landed on concrete sure, but there's enough twigs and dead leaves floating about that they could easily catch fire. Trent's not about to burn down the only place he has to live.
“Oops,” he says, and looks up with a grin, cutting his eyes toward the blonde chick, and Kale who has finally emerged from the vehicle, looking all kinds of sexy. “Who's the hottie?”
Sylvia chuckles and squeezes his arm. “Kale's new fling. Don't be surprised if this one doesn't last past dinner time either,” she answers, and then winks. “Though I'm surprised he didn't tell you about her.”
Trent winces. “We've both been kinda busy,” he replies and waves her on inside, where Chris is no doubt waiting to regale her with tales of his grilling prowess. “Let Chris know you're here, yeah?”
Sylvia nods and passes him by, leaving Trent to face Kale and his apparent girlfriend all by his lonesome. Which might be a better idea now because frankly, Trent doesn't know what the hell he's going to do. Seeing Kale is like a mule's kick to the torso: painful, damn near debilitating, but since he's survived, he's glad it happened. It's like stepping back into the past where they were happy and that's all Trent wants. He wants Kale, and right now, he also wants the blond bimbo to make herself scarce.
She giggles as they get close, and clings to Kale's arm like a fake-tanned leech. Trent forces himself not to let his lip curl with disgust. Instead, he focuses on Kale and how good his best friend looks. Black hair styled and combed – he must have had a haircut recently, it looks good on him. Clothes well-fitting and his brown eyes clear and bright. They are guarded however as they flick over Trent, but Kale must be a great actor, because nothing of their disagreement shows in his voice.
“Trent,” he greets, and if it's a touch cool, Trent tries not to notice. “I don't think you've met Courtney before. Courtney, this is Trent.” Introductions are made.
He holds out a hand, planting a fake smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you,” Trent lies through his teeth, shaking her soft hand decorated with manicured nails.
“Likewise,” she says with another vacuous giggle. “Kale's told me a little about you, but not much.”
“Funny.” Trent's smile has a lot of teeth and he feels like a shark on the prowl. “I've not heard anything about you.”
Her grin falters, as though in slow realization that she has somehow been insulted. But Trent has already dismissed her, moving his attention back to Kale. Something inside of him aches.
Kale glares at him, eyebrows twitching. “Nice to see you again, Trent,” he grits out. “How's Ashleigh?”
Low blow, Kale. Really.
Trent squares his jaw. “She's fine. Still making top marks as usual.” His arms fold over his chest, knowing exactly why Kale brought Ashleigh up.
“She still coming here in May?”
“A week after the Graduation ceremony, yes.”
Something flickers in brown eyes, something Trent can't read. “Well, good for you,” Kale says, and taking Courtney's arm, steers her past him. “Come on, Court. I want to introduce you to my brother.”
“Sure!” She giggles, instantly appeased, and Trent watches them go with nothing less than sick jealousy crawling through his insides.
Kale doesn't even like women. What the hell is he thinking? When did he suddenly decide he was going to switch teams yet again?
Trent feels a lot like throwing his hands into the air and screaming his frustration. Instead, he squares his jaw and slips back into the house through the side door, suddenly in need of a beer or three. Courtney's giggle floats back to his ears and Trent's sure three beers just aren't going to cut it. He doesn't know how he's going to make it through the rest of the afternoon.
He spends the day hovering around the edges of their family get together, exchanging conversation with Chris and Jessie and Destiny and Sylvia, but hardly speaking a word to Kale. In fact, Kale is doing his damndest to pretend Trent doesn't exist, and the leech at his side never unclings for longer than it takes to refill her drink or frown vacantly at a piece of barbeque chicken.
Trent chews on his fingernails and wonders how in the hell he's going to get Kale alone long enough to talk to him, maybe apologize if that's what it takes, though Trent doesn't know what he needs to apologize for. Maybe a general “I'm sorry” will fix things. He hopes.
If anyone notices the odd behavior between Trent and Kale, they don't say anything. Trent notices Jessie tossing him strange looks in her occasional appearances from her den, but she keeps her comments to herself.
Chris is too busy boasting over the fact Destiny's pregnant, making most of the women aflutter. Destiny's glowing and Trent knows that means he's going to have to find a new place to live soon. He's the best friend hoarding the guest room that's going to be a baby room. But that's at least nine months away. He has plenty of time to think of alternative arrangements. Hell, maybe he can go live with Sylvia and Kale once he patches things up with Kale.
Yeah, that sounds like an all right idea to him.
Nibbling on a barbequed rib, Trent feels a smile curl at his lips. It'll be just like old times if he can manage that. It'll be fun again. He likes the idea of that.
On the other side of the crowd, he sees Kale hand Courtney his beer and make gestures toward the house. She frowns in mock disappointment, makes a reassuring motion, even shoos him away. Kale squeezes her fingers – he hasn't even kissed her all day, Trent knew that this couldn’t be legit – and probably makes some promise to be back. He leaves her alone with Sylvia and works through the crowd to the car port door. There's only one reason Kale would go inside, and that's to use the toilet.
This is probably the only chance Trent's going to get.
Downing the last of his beer, he sets the bottle down against the wall to join the growing line of them and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He slips toward the front door and eases into the house, hoping to catch Kale as he comes out of the bathroom.
It's dark in the house, since everyone is outside enjoying themselves. Even Jessie's out of her cave for the moment, her door pulled tightly shut to keep the cat from wandering in and sleeping on her laptop again.
Trent closes all the doors, so that the hallway is sectioned off from the rest of the house, and waits. He leans against the wall, crosses his arms, taps his fingers anxiously. He watches the door with an intensity better reserved for dangerous situations.
When Kale emerges, Trent almost doesn't know what to say. Kale notices him immediately, pauses in place, and regards Trent with a certain amount of wariness.
“What do you want?” Kale asks, hand falling from the door knob as he stares at Trent, stares at him like Trent's the last person in the world he wants to see.
Trent swallows over an odd lump in his throat. “You don't even like women. Courtney can't possibly be your girlfriend.”
Well, that's not precisely what he wants to say, but it's somewhere to start so Trent will go with it.
Snorting, Kale rolls his eyes. “When have I ever said I didn't?” he demands, and steps away from the bathroom, edging toward the door that leads back into the living room and the kitchen by proxy. “That's just something you decided for yourself.”
Trent works his jaw. “She's not your type.”
“And you would know that how?” Kale demands, looking like he's trying to escape. But they aren't done talking and Trent's not letting him leave until he's spoken his piece.
“I just want to talk to you,” Trent says, frustrated, and he moves, inserting himself between the door and Kale, noticing how Kale's eyes widen fractionally. “Can't even give me five minutes?”
“I don't see why I should,” Kale mutters, but he sounds more like a petulant child than an adult. He takes a step back, gives them room, and spreads his hands. “Fine. Talk. Maybe I'll listen.”
Trent blows out a frustrated breath. “Why are you being so difficult? You're not making any sense.”
“What? I wasn't clear last time? There's nothing between us anymore, Trent. Nothing.” His eyes narrow, sharp and unforgiving. “Though, to be fair, there wasn't really a start either.”
“You don't mean that.” Trent is aching to touch him, and he moves closer.
Kale doesn't retreat, not even when Trent is less than a half foot away. Not when Trent reaches out, plants a palm on Kale's chest, feels the motion of his ribs as he breathes. Kale feels warm and Trent misses that, misses the warmth in his bed. Misses Kale, truth be told, but for some reason, he can't get those words on his lips.
“Didn't I give you what you wanted?” Trent asks, and his voice is low now, husky even. He's never been good with words, but maybe actions are what Kale wants. Maybe.
Something flashes in Kale's eyes and he swallows visibly. “Oh, now it's a favor was it?” he says, trying to be aggressive probably, but it comes out unassertive.
Kale takes a step back and Trent follows, until Kale is pinned between him and the wall. This close, he smells of some kind of spicy soap and powdery deodorant. Trent wants to taste him, to kiss him. He pushes their bodies closer together, face pressed to Kale's throat where he's warm and tasty and Trent's tongue darts out, lapping at the salty-sweat skin.
A minute shiver racks Kale's body. He can't hide his reactions to Trent. He never has been able to. They are so telling and Trent feels a stirring of relief. Kale doesn't completely hate him. Maybe there's something to be salvaged.
He lowers his hand, palms Kale's groin, and is double relieved that Kale is getting hard for him. There's a noticeable bulge in his jeans and Trent massages it mercilessly, Kale's stifled groan all too audible to his ears.
“It's not a favor if we both want it,” Trent says and turns his head, mouthing at Kale's ear, tugging the flesh with his teeth. He knows how much Kale likes that and is rewarded with a light shiver.
Kale hasn't touched him yet though. Kale's hands are at his sides, clenching and unclenching. But he's not protesting and he hasn't pushed Trent away. All very good signs.
“I miss you,” Trent says, because it's the honest truth and he'll bet a damn good dollar that it's what Kale wants to hear. Trent wants Kale back, and he'll say whatever he needs to say to make Kale understand that.
Kale swallows thickly, loud enough that Trent can hear it. “No, you don't,” he says, voice rough and disbelieving.
“Oh, but I do,” Trent retorts and he grinds against Kale, his own dick tightening in his pants, well remembering the feel of Kale's body. The way it feels to be buried inside of him, watching the erotic way Kale arches his body, the way his skin flushes around his freckles. He loves the way Kale responds to him, always has. Kale's so much more demonstrative than any girl Trent's fucked. Tighter, too.
His lips wander, from Kale's neck to his smooth jaw. Kale has shaved recently, something he never bothered to do before. Trent likes it. But more than that, he wants to taste Kale's lips. He mouths Kale's chin and then lets his lips wander further up, capturing Kale's. At first, Kale is stiff and unyielding beneath him, mouth refusing to accept Trent.
And then Trent grips Kale's cock, gives him a stroke through his jeans, and Kale moans, mouth opening to allow Trent inside. He tastes of Dr. Pepper and barbeque sauce, sweet and tangy on Trent's tongue. Trent just wants to eat him up.
His fingers cease massaging Kale's groin, if only to focus on undoing his belt and sliding down the zipper. His hand dives into Kale's jeans, pushing past the thin fabric of his boxers, to cup the hard heat of his cock. Kale groans, bucks into his grip, and Trent's thumb swipes over the leaking slit.
The idea hits him then, and Trent doesn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. What better way to convince Kale and show him he's sincere?
He breaks off the kiss, nervousness twisting in his belly. He's never done this before, but it can't be too hard. Trent knows what he likes for himself, so the thought should apply to others, right?
Kale looks confused, his brown eyes clouding with lust, and that confusion only grows as Trent drops down to one knee, one hand planted flat against Kale's hip as the other tugs his jeans down further. Kale's cock pops free, leaking and rigid. The smell of a man's sex floats to Trent's nose, stronger and muskier than a woman's cunt.
He can do this.
Trent takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and gingerly licks at the head of Kale's cock. The salty-bitter taste lands on his tongue, but it's no worse than a sour splash of lime and Tabasco in his hangover concoctions, so Trent can deal. Besides, if doing this has Kale making those particular noises in his throat – half-growl, half-whine – Trent supposes all is well. Make up blow jobs are instant forgiveness instigators, right?
Licking his lips, Trent leans forward, drags his tongue experimentally down Kale's length. His skin is warm, oddly soft, and Trent can feel the rigidness with his tongue. It's so very different from going down on Ashleigh. Not bad, just different, though Trent isn't exactly enjoying himself. But this isn't for him, it's for Kale, and Trent's never done this for him before so forgiveness ought to be right around the corner.
Now for the hard part.
Trent pulls back, opens his mouth, and remembers to cover his teeth with his lips. If there's one thing he does know, it's that teeth on cock is an unforgivable no matter who you are. He takes Kale into his mouth, hears Kale suck in a sharp breath, and Kale's hips buck forward eagerly. Trent waits for him to get over the surprise, and then gingerly sucks Kale into his mouth, heavy cock resting on his tongue.
“Trent,” Kale says, or is that a whine, and Trent can't tell if it's encouragement or a sign that Kale is being overwhelmed. “Ah... don't...”
Don't? Why the hell not?
Trent looks up at him with annoyed eyes, tongue flicking across the leaking head in such a way that Kale shudders, sinks a little lower against the wall.
A hand lands in Trent's hair, fingers twisting in blond strands. “Trent!”
He ignores Kale, sucks him deeper if possible, tries to flick his tongue on and around, swirls the head, tries to remember how it feels when it's been done to him. Precome is flooding his tongue now and Kale's close, Trent can tell. It's like Kale's not been touched since the last time they fucked and Trent swallows down a knowing chuckle.
He knew Courtney is just a front. There's no way Kale has any interest in her. There's only one person Kale's ever looked at like that, and it sure isn't a blond bimbo. He belongs to Trent and that's all there is to it.
Kale's fingers tighten in his hair. “Trent, stop.”
He's got to be joking, Trent thinks. He's the one on the floor, a cock in his mouth, and Kale's acting like he's being taken advantage of. What the hell's wrong with him? He's obviously enjoying this if the taste of precome on Trent's tongue is any indication.
“Trent!”
The hand in his hair jerks sharply and Trent gasps, Kale's cock falling from his lips with a soft pop as he teeters off balance. Kale releases his hair, but it's not enough for Trent to catch himself and he throws out an arm, palm slapping against the floor.
“What the hell is your problem?” Trent asks, swiping the back of his arm over his mouth as he shoots to his feet.
He can't even describe the look on Kale's face, such a sweet mixture of torment and arousal. “I told you to stop,” he says.
“Why?” Trent demands, and his hand slams into the wall next to Kale's head, the taste of Kale on his tongue and he doesn't know what to do with that.
Kale works his jaw, like he's searching for words. “Because I don't want you to do that.”
Well, that's news to Trent. Kale's all but begged for it before and now he's suddenly changed his mind? What the hell is up with that?
“You're making no sense,” Trent retorts and his other hand lands on Kale's hip as he presses closer. “What then? You want me to fuck you? Is that it? You're not happy unless I'm buried balls deep?”
Kale's eyes narrow, his face flushes with anger, and that's all the warning Trent has before a violent fist lands against his chin, slamming him backward. Trent lands on his ass, jaw aching, nearly tumbling into the hall table and knocking down a stack of boots. He curses, looks up at Kale and is surprised by the almost mad look in brown eyes.
“No,” Kale says, his voice hoarse, something in him cracked. “I can't... I'm not doing this anymore. It's over, Trent. It's over.”
Frustrated, Trent's fist slams against the floor. He wants to get up, but frankly, Kale punches like a damn boxer and he's not aiming to get struck again. “I don't get it! What the hell do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” Kale retorts, and he shakes his head slowly. “I've never wanted anything.”
Trent wallows in confusion, sputtering, unable to form a proper word. And Kale hastily tucks himself away, buttoning up his pants and scrubbing his hand over his mouth. He looks simultaneously pissed off and disgusted. Trent doesn't know if that loathing is aimed at him or at something else entirely. He's not sure he wants to know.
The door to the kitchen opens and closes and Kale is gone, leaving Trent sitting on the floor, confused and forgotten. His jaw aches and on closer inspection, there's a lingering taste of blood in his mouth. He must have bitten his cheek.
What the hell?
He sits in silence, ignores the sound of laughter and conversation that drifts in from open windows, and tries to figure out where everything went wrong.
“Let him go.”
Trent twists, finding that Jessie's door is open and she's leaning against the frame. He didn't think she was in there, but he supposes he'd been mistaken. How much had she heard? How much had she seen for that matter?
“What?”
“If you care for him, let him go,” Jessie reiterates and the hand clutching a cup filled with liquid lifts said cup to her lips as she drinks what's left in it.
Trent huffs. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
Destiny's sister rolls her eyes, the same eerie shade as Destiny's own. “Trent, I'm neither as deaf nor as oblivious as you think. In fact, both Chris and Destiny know what's going on and I'm pretty sure Sylvia suspects something.”
Something churns in Trent's belly, but he keeps his silence. He refuses to let Jessie continue to think she is right.
Sighing, Jessie pushes herself off the door frame and crosses the floor until she kneels in front of him, nearly eye to eye. “You know that you can't be what he needs. And you never will be,” she says slowly, like talking to a particularly dumb monkey. “So just let him go.”
Trent's lips become a thin line. “I can't.”
“No, you don't want to. There's a difference. Kale is your best friend so you're clinging to that.” She hands him her cup, down to only ice, and directs his hand to press it against his aching cheek. “You're still with Ashleigh, too, aren't you?”
Ice rattles as Trent moves his head away from her. “Yeah? So?”
Jessie rolls her eyes, looking half-amused at him. “So, you can't have your cake and eat it, too, Trent. One or the other.”
He snorts. “I didn't know people even said lame shit like that.”
Rising to her feet, Jessie seems annoyed. “Not that the choice is yours to make any more. Kale's moving on, so do him the favor of leaving him alone. It's the least you can do.”
“Kale's mine,” Trent retorts hotly, maybe even with a flash of petulance. Who does Jessie think she is to tell him what's best for him or Kale?
Her smile is thin and amused with a gleam of sarcasm. “So you think,” she retorts, her eyes flickering to his bruised chin. “Keep ice on that for ten minutes. The swelling will go down soon enough.”
Jessie whirls on her heel and disappears back into her den with a faint click of a lock that Trent knows means she isn't to be disturbed or face her wrath. So nice of her to deign to speak to him and offer such unwanted advice.
Trent grits his teeth, but putting that much pressure on his jaw hurt so he ceases the action. He sits on the floor, sulking, and presses the ice against his throbbing jaw. He needs a cigarette, or a beer, or better yet, a whole bottle of Jack Daniels.
Trent doesn't know what he wants.
* * * *
a/n: I've got several more oneshots coming up, one of them even delving into femslash. *gasp* How unusual! So I hope you liked this one. There's a third one in this series (which is also a sequel to the fourth oneshot) and it's coming up soon.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Title: Too Many Words
Rating: T
Warning: language, angst, selfbeta, oral, slashy relationship
Pairing: TrentxKale
Description: Trent doesn't know what he did wrong or why he should apologize. He just knows what he wants.
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A Thousand Words
Snapshot Seven - Too Many Words
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He's been pacing back and forth through the kitchen all day, unlit cigarette tucked between his fingers. Trent wishes he could light the damn thing in the house, but Jessie's rules persist and he doesn't dare get on her bad side. She pays all the damn bills and she could kick him out on his ass in a moment.
“Trent, for crying out loud, will you get out of the way!” Destiny cries, elbowing him aside as she struggles to pull things out of the refrigerator, piling them onto a huge plate which she will then take out to Chris. He's in charge of grilling today, and he's been stoked about it all morning.
Frankly, Trent's stomach has been twisted in knots. He can't fathom the thought of food, much less eating it.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he mutters, and evacuates, beating a hasty retreat back to his room.
He closes the door behind him, flicks the lock, and cuts the stereo on. A low and steady bass pumps into the room, along with a few heavy guitar riffs, which only add to his agitation. Trent plops down into his couch and turns, arm braced against the back as he watches out the window. He has a perfect view of the driveway.
He'll be able to see the moment Kale pulls up.
Trent stares out the window, puts the cigarette between his lips, and pretends he can taste the nicotine. He feels jittery, on edge, and as every car passes, he feels something in his stomach jump a little. He doesn't even know what he's going to say, he just knows he has to talk to Kale. They hadn't spoken since Kale ran out of here as though his ass were on fire two months ago. Not even on the phone.
Ashleigh's refused to speak to him since then too; Trent can care less about her. She's on the other side of the world just about, and she's not been close to him half as long as Kale has. He knows all he has to do is send her some flowers, talk a little sweet talk, and she'll be putty in his hands. She always comes crawling back.
Kale on the other hand... he's a trickier bastard. What does he want from Trent? He doesn't get it. He thought things were fine. He didn't know there was anything bothering Kale. He's always been the type to keep things close to his chest but still... how's Trent supposed to know something's wrong if Kale doesn't say so? How can he fix it?
Trent chews on his cigarette until it becomes a disgusting wrapper and tobacco paste in his mouth. Gagging, he spits the leavings into the trash can and tries to wash out the taste with a lukewarm can of soda.
Laughter and conversation drifts in through the cracked window, family and friends all gathered together for Chris' barbeque. There's no special occasion, just Chris sometimes gets in the mood to grill out and tends to invite half the town when he does. Kale, as Chris' brother, is damn near obligated to attend. And he can't deny the invitation without explaining why he doesn’t want to come. So this is the only chance Trent's going to get.
He wanders back toward the window, running a hand through his hair and sweeping it out of his face. He glances through the glass, and his heart leaps into his throat. A grey Suburban is pulling into the drive, and he knows it has to be Kale. No one else Chris knows drives a Suburban.
Agitated, Trent whirls away from the window, checks himself in the mirror and then throws the door open. He nearly bowls over Jessie in his haste, and tosses an apology over his shoulder. She's too busy on her phone to really care, flipping a hand at him as she disappears back into her bedroom. She'll emerge from her den long enough to grab a plate of food.
But Trent doesn't care about Jessie.
He weaves through the kitchen and heads into the car port, skirting around family and friends in an attempt to see Kale. Chris and Kale's mom is probably riding with him, so he can always use the excuse he's greeting her if he has to. He doesn't know how Kale is going to react to seeing him, and more than anything, Trent wants to avoid a scene.
Trent forces himself to act casual, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and tapping one into his hand. Outside, he can light up, so he pops the cigarette between his lips and digs out a lighter. He leans against the side of the house, nonchalantly watching as Kale puts the Suburban into park and the doors open.
Sylvia, Kale's mom, emerges from the back seat of all places, muttering something about Kale's driving that makes Trent grin. Kale's not exactly the best driver in the world, but miraculously, he's the only one in the family without an outstanding number of traffic tickets. Oh, he has his fair share, but at least he has his license. Which is better than Trent can say for Chris.
The Suburban's passenger door swings open too and Trent straightens, eyes narrowing. Who in the world...?
The cigarette topples from his lips to the concrete of the carport as Trent stares at the beautiful girl who's just stepped out of the vehicle. Long blond hair, to her waist at least which was a tiny thing, something Trent could wrap his hands around. Her eyes are a vivid blue, even from this distance, and Trent wonders how in the hell he's never met her before. His dick goes from zero to sixty in ten seconds at that cupid-bow mouth.
She's the sexiest thing he's seen this side of Texas and how in the hell has he never seen her before? Kale and Chris never mentioned having a sister.
“Hey, Trent!” Sylvia greets, spying him first and greeting him with outstretched arms that demand an embrace.
Trent willing gives her one. His mom's been dead for fifteen years and Sylvia's always been like a surrogate to him. “Hey, Sylvia. How was the drive up?”
She rolls her eyes, the same shade as Kale's. “You know how Kale is. Determined to give me a heart attack, that boy is.” Her gaze drops to the ground, brow lifting. “Did you know you dropped your cig?”
Trent curses under his breath and quickly stomps his heel over the flame. It landed on concrete sure, but there's enough twigs and dead leaves floating about that they could easily catch fire. Trent's not about to burn down the only place he has to live.
“Oops,” he says, and looks up with a grin, cutting his eyes toward the blonde chick, and Kale who has finally emerged from the vehicle, looking all kinds of sexy. “Who's the hottie?”
Sylvia chuckles and squeezes his arm. “Kale's new fling. Don't be surprised if this one doesn't last past dinner time either,” she answers, and then winks. “Though I'm surprised he didn't tell you about her.”
Trent winces. “We've both been kinda busy,” he replies and waves her on inside, where Chris is no doubt waiting to regale her with tales of his grilling prowess. “Let Chris know you're here, yeah?”
Sylvia nods and passes him by, leaving Trent to face Kale and his apparent girlfriend all by his lonesome. Which might be a better idea now because frankly, Trent doesn't know what the hell he's going to do. Seeing Kale is like a mule's kick to the torso: painful, damn near debilitating, but since he's survived, he's glad it happened. It's like stepping back into the past where they were happy and that's all Trent wants. He wants Kale, and right now, he also wants the blond bimbo to make herself scarce.
She giggles as they get close, and clings to Kale's arm like a fake-tanned leech. Trent forces himself not to let his lip curl with disgust. Instead, he focuses on Kale and how good his best friend looks. Black hair styled and combed – he must have had a haircut recently, it looks good on him. Clothes well-fitting and his brown eyes clear and bright. They are guarded however as they flick over Trent, but Kale must be a great actor, because nothing of their disagreement shows in his voice.
“Trent,” he greets, and if it's a touch cool, Trent tries not to notice. “I don't think you've met Courtney before. Courtney, this is Trent.” Introductions are made.
He holds out a hand, planting a fake smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you,” Trent lies through his teeth, shaking her soft hand decorated with manicured nails.
“Likewise,” she says with another vacuous giggle. “Kale's told me a little about you, but not much.”
“Funny.” Trent's smile has a lot of teeth and he feels like a shark on the prowl. “I've not heard anything about you.”
Her grin falters, as though in slow realization that she has somehow been insulted. But Trent has already dismissed her, moving his attention back to Kale. Something inside of him aches.
Kale glares at him, eyebrows twitching. “Nice to see you again, Trent,” he grits out. “How's Ashleigh?”
Low blow, Kale. Really.
Trent squares his jaw. “She's fine. Still making top marks as usual.” His arms fold over his chest, knowing exactly why Kale brought Ashleigh up.
“She still coming here in May?”
“A week after the Graduation ceremony, yes.”
Something flickers in brown eyes, something Trent can't read. “Well, good for you,” Kale says, and taking Courtney's arm, steers her past him. “Come on, Court. I want to introduce you to my brother.”
“Sure!” She giggles, instantly appeased, and Trent watches them go with nothing less than sick jealousy crawling through his insides.
Kale doesn't even like women. What the hell is he thinking? When did he suddenly decide he was going to switch teams yet again?
Trent feels a lot like throwing his hands into the air and screaming his frustration. Instead, he squares his jaw and slips back into the house through the side door, suddenly in need of a beer or three. Courtney's giggle floats back to his ears and Trent's sure three beers just aren't going to cut it. He doesn't know how he's going to make it through the rest of the afternoon.
He spends the day hovering around the edges of their family get together, exchanging conversation with Chris and Jessie and Destiny and Sylvia, but hardly speaking a word to Kale. In fact, Kale is doing his damndest to pretend Trent doesn't exist, and the leech at his side never unclings for longer than it takes to refill her drink or frown vacantly at a piece of barbeque chicken.
Trent chews on his fingernails and wonders how in the hell he's going to get Kale alone long enough to talk to him, maybe apologize if that's what it takes, though Trent doesn't know what he needs to apologize for. Maybe a general “I'm sorry” will fix things. He hopes.
If anyone notices the odd behavior between Trent and Kale, they don't say anything. Trent notices Jessie tossing him strange looks in her occasional appearances from her den, but she keeps her comments to herself.
Chris is too busy boasting over the fact Destiny's pregnant, making most of the women aflutter. Destiny's glowing and Trent knows that means he's going to have to find a new place to live soon. He's the best friend hoarding the guest room that's going to be a baby room. But that's at least nine months away. He has plenty of time to think of alternative arrangements. Hell, maybe he can go live with Sylvia and Kale once he patches things up with Kale.
Yeah, that sounds like an all right idea to him.
Nibbling on a barbequed rib, Trent feels a smile curl at his lips. It'll be just like old times if he can manage that. It'll be fun again. He likes the idea of that.
On the other side of the crowd, he sees Kale hand Courtney his beer and make gestures toward the house. She frowns in mock disappointment, makes a reassuring motion, even shoos him away. Kale squeezes her fingers – he hasn't even kissed her all day, Trent knew that this couldn’t be legit – and probably makes some promise to be back. He leaves her alone with Sylvia and works through the crowd to the car port door. There's only one reason Kale would go inside, and that's to use the toilet.
This is probably the only chance Trent's going to get.
Downing the last of his beer, he sets the bottle down against the wall to join the growing line of them and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He slips toward the front door and eases into the house, hoping to catch Kale as he comes out of the bathroom.
It's dark in the house, since everyone is outside enjoying themselves. Even Jessie's out of her cave for the moment, her door pulled tightly shut to keep the cat from wandering in and sleeping on her laptop again.
Trent closes all the doors, so that the hallway is sectioned off from the rest of the house, and waits. He leans against the wall, crosses his arms, taps his fingers anxiously. He watches the door with an intensity better reserved for dangerous situations.
When Kale emerges, Trent almost doesn't know what to say. Kale notices him immediately, pauses in place, and regards Trent with a certain amount of wariness.
“What do you want?” Kale asks, hand falling from the door knob as he stares at Trent, stares at him like Trent's the last person in the world he wants to see.
Trent swallows over an odd lump in his throat. “You don't even like women. Courtney can't possibly be your girlfriend.”
Well, that's not precisely what he wants to say, but it's somewhere to start so Trent will go with it.
Snorting, Kale rolls his eyes. “When have I ever said I didn't?” he demands, and steps away from the bathroom, edging toward the door that leads back into the living room and the kitchen by proxy. “That's just something you decided for yourself.”
Trent works his jaw. “She's not your type.”
“And you would know that how?” Kale demands, looking like he's trying to escape. But they aren't done talking and Trent's not letting him leave until he's spoken his piece.
“I just want to talk to you,” Trent says, frustrated, and he moves, inserting himself between the door and Kale, noticing how Kale's eyes widen fractionally. “Can't even give me five minutes?”
“I don't see why I should,” Kale mutters, but he sounds more like a petulant child than an adult. He takes a step back, gives them room, and spreads his hands. “Fine. Talk. Maybe I'll listen.”
Trent blows out a frustrated breath. “Why are you being so difficult? You're not making any sense.”
“What? I wasn't clear last time? There's nothing between us anymore, Trent. Nothing.” His eyes narrow, sharp and unforgiving. “Though, to be fair, there wasn't really a start either.”
“You don't mean that.” Trent is aching to touch him, and he moves closer.
Kale doesn't retreat, not even when Trent is less than a half foot away. Not when Trent reaches out, plants a palm on Kale's chest, feels the motion of his ribs as he breathes. Kale feels warm and Trent misses that, misses the warmth in his bed. Misses Kale, truth be told, but for some reason, he can't get those words on his lips.
“Didn't I give you what you wanted?” Trent asks, and his voice is low now, husky even. He's never been good with words, but maybe actions are what Kale wants. Maybe.
Something flashes in Kale's eyes and he swallows visibly. “Oh, now it's a favor was it?” he says, trying to be aggressive probably, but it comes out unassertive.
Kale takes a step back and Trent follows, until Kale is pinned between him and the wall. This close, he smells of some kind of spicy soap and powdery deodorant. Trent wants to taste him, to kiss him. He pushes their bodies closer together, face pressed to Kale's throat where he's warm and tasty and Trent's tongue darts out, lapping at the salty-sweat skin.
A minute shiver racks Kale's body. He can't hide his reactions to Trent. He never has been able to. They are so telling and Trent feels a stirring of relief. Kale doesn't completely hate him. Maybe there's something to be salvaged.
He lowers his hand, palms Kale's groin, and is double relieved that Kale is getting hard for him. There's a noticeable bulge in his jeans and Trent massages it mercilessly, Kale's stifled groan all too audible to his ears.
“It's not a favor if we both want it,” Trent says and turns his head, mouthing at Kale's ear, tugging the flesh with his teeth. He knows how much Kale likes that and is rewarded with a light shiver.
Kale hasn't touched him yet though. Kale's hands are at his sides, clenching and unclenching. But he's not protesting and he hasn't pushed Trent away. All very good signs.
“I miss you,” Trent says, because it's the honest truth and he'll bet a damn good dollar that it's what Kale wants to hear. Trent wants Kale back, and he'll say whatever he needs to say to make Kale understand that.
Kale swallows thickly, loud enough that Trent can hear it. “No, you don't,” he says, voice rough and disbelieving.
“Oh, but I do,” Trent retorts and he grinds against Kale, his own dick tightening in his pants, well remembering the feel of Kale's body. The way it feels to be buried inside of him, watching the erotic way Kale arches his body, the way his skin flushes around his freckles. He loves the way Kale responds to him, always has. Kale's so much more demonstrative than any girl Trent's fucked. Tighter, too.
His lips wander, from Kale's neck to his smooth jaw. Kale has shaved recently, something he never bothered to do before. Trent likes it. But more than that, he wants to taste Kale's lips. He mouths Kale's chin and then lets his lips wander further up, capturing Kale's. At first, Kale is stiff and unyielding beneath him, mouth refusing to accept Trent.
And then Trent grips Kale's cock, gives him a stroke through his jeans, and Kale moans, mouth opening to allow Trent inside. He tastes of Dr. Pepper and barbeque sauce, sweet and tangy on Trent's tongue. Trent just wants to eat him up.
His fingers cease massaging Kale's groin, if only to focus on undoing his belt and sliding down the zipper. His hand dives into Kale's jeans, pushing past the thin fabric of his boxers, to cup the hard heat of his cock. Kale groans, bucks into his grip, and Trent's thumb swipes over the leaking slit.
The idea hits him then, and Trent doesn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. What better way to convince Kale and show him he's sincere?
He breaks off the kiss, nervousness twisting in his belly. He's never done this before, but it can't be too hard. Trent knows what he likes for himself, so the thought should apply to others, right?
Kale looks confused, his brown eyes clouding with lust, and that confusion only grows as Trent drops down to one knee, one hand planted flat against Kale's hip as the other tugs his jeans down further. Kale's cock pops free, leaking and rigid. The smell of a man's sex floats to Trent's nose, stronger and muskier than a woman's cunt.
He can do this.
Trent takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and gingerly licks at the head of Kale's cock. The salty-bitter taste lands on his tongue, but it's no worse than a sour splash of lime and Tabasco in his hangover concoctions, so Trent can deal. Besides, if doing this has Kale making those particular noises in his throat – half-growl, half-whine – Trent supposes all is well. Make up blow jobs are instant forgiveness instigators, right?
Licking his lips, Trent leans forward, drags his tongue experimentally down Kale's length. His skin is warm, oddly soft, and Trent can feel the rigidness with his tongue. It's so very different from going down on Ashleigh. Not bad, just different, though Trent isn't exactly enjoying himself. But this isn't for him, it's for Kale, and Trent's never done this for him before so forgiveness ought to be right around the corner.
Now for the hard part.
Trent pulls back, opens his mouth, and remembers to cover his teeth with his lips. If there's one thing he does know, it's that teeth on cock is an unforgivable no matter who you are. He takes Kale into his mouth, hears Kale suck in a sharp breath, and Kale's hips buck forward eagerly. Trent waits for him to get over the surprise, and then gingerly sucks Kale into his mouth, heavy cock resting on his tongue.
“Trent,” Kale says, or is that a whine, and Trent can't tell if it's encouragement or a sign that Kale is being overwhelmed. “Ah... don't...”
Don't? Why the hell not?
Trent looks up at him with annoyed eyes, tongue flicking across the leaking head in such a way that Kale shudders, sinks a little lower against the wall.
A hand lands in Trent's hair, fingers twisting in blond strands. “Trent!”
He ignores Kale, sucks him deeper if possible, tries to flick his tongue on and around, swirls the head, tries to remember how it feels when it's been done to him. Precome is flooding his tongue now and Kale's close, Trent can tell. It's like Kale's not been touched since the last time they fucked and Trent swallows down a knowing chuckle.
He knew Courtney is just a front. There's no way Kale has any interest in her. There's only one person Kale's ever looked at like that, and it sure isn't a blond bimbo. He belongs to Trent and that's all there is to it.
Kale's fingers tighten in his hair. “Trent, stop.”
He's got to be joking, Trent thinks. He's the one on the floor, a cock in his mouth, and Kale's acting like he's being taken advantage of. What the hell's wrong with him? He's obviously enjoying this if the taste of precome on Trent's tongue is any indication.
“Trent!”
The hand in his hair jerks sharply and Trent gasps, Kale's cock falling from his lips with a soft pop as he teeters off balance. Kale releases his hair, but it's not enough for Trent to catch himself and he throws out an arm, palm slapping against the floor.
“What the hell is your problem?” Trent asks, swiping the back of his arm over his mouth as he shoots to his feet.
He can't even describe the look on Kale's face, such a sweet mixture of torment and arousal. “I told you to stop,” he says.
“Why?” Trent demands, and his hand slams into the wall next to Kale's head, the taste of Kale on his tongue and he doesn't know what to do with that.
Kale works his jaw, like he's searching for words. “Because I don't want you to do that.”
Well, that's news to Trent. Kale's all but begged for it before and now he's suddenly changed his mind? What the hell is up with that?
“You're making no sense,” Trent retorts and his other hand lands on Kale's hip as he presses closer. “What then? You want me to fuck you? Is that it? You're not happy unless I'm buried balls deep?”
Kale's eyes narrow, his face flushes with anger, and that's all the warning Trent has before a violent fist lands against his chin, slamming him backward. Trent lands on his ass, jaw aching, nearly tumbling into the hall table and knocking down a stack of boots. He curses, looks up at Kale and is surprised by the almost mad look in brown eyes.
“No,” Kale says, his voice hoarse, something in him cracked. “I can't... I'm not doing this anymore. It's over, Trent. It's over.”
Frustrated, Trent's fist slams against the floor. He wants to get up, but frankly, Kale punches like a damn boxer and he's not aiming to get struck again. “I don't get it! What the hell do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” Kale retorts, and he shakes his head slowly. “I've never wanted anything.”
Trent wallows in confusion, sputtering, unable to form a proper word. And Kale hastily tucks himself away, buttoning up his pants and scrubbing his hand over his mouth. He looks simultaneously pissed off and disgusted. Trent doesn't know if that loathing is aimed at him or at something else entirely. He's not sure he wants to know.
The door to the kitchen opens and closes and Kale is gone, leaving Trent sitting on the floor, confused and forgotten. His jaw aches and on closer inspection, there's a lingering taste of blood in his mouth. He must have bitten his cheek.
What the hell?
He sits in silence, ignores the sound of laughter and conversation that drifts in from open windows, and tries to figure out where everything went wrong.
“Let him go.”
Trent twists, finding that Jessie's door is open and she's leaning against the frame. He didn't think she was in there, but he supposes he'd been mistaken. How much had she heard? How much had she seen for that matter?
“What?”
“If you care for him, let him go,” Jessie reiterates and the hand clutching a cup filled with liquid lifts said cup to her lips as she drinks what's left in it.
Trent huffs. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
Destiny's sister rolls her eyes, the same eerie shade as Destiny's own. “Trent, I'm neither as deaf nor as oblivious as you think. In fact, both Chris and Destiny know what's going on and I'm pretty sure Sylvia suspects something.”
Something churns in Trent's belly, but he keeps his silence. He refuses to let Jessie continue to think she is right.
Sighing, Jessie pushes herself off the door frame and crosses the floor until she kneels in front of him, nearly eye to eye. “You know that you can't be what he needs. And you never will be,” she says slowly, like talking to a particularly dumb monkey. “So just let him go.”
Trent's lips become a thin line. “I can't.”
“No, you don't want to. There's a difference. Kale is your best friend so you're clinging to that.” She hands him her cup, down to only ice, and directs his hand to press it against his aching cheek. “You're still with Ashleigh, too, aren't you?”
Ice rattles as Trent moves his head away from her. “Yeah? So?”
Jessie rolls her eyes, looking half-amused at him. “So, you can't have your cake and eat it, too, Trent. One or the other.”
He snorts. “I didn't know people even said lame shit like that.”
Rising to her feet, Jessie seems annoyed. “Not that the choice is yours to make any more. Kale's moving on, so do him the favor of leaving him alone. It's the least you can do.”
“Kale's mine,” Trent retorts hotly, maybe even with a flash of petulance. Who does Jessie think she is to tell him what's best for him or Kale?
Her smile is thin and amused with a gleam of sarcasm. “So you think,” she retorts, her eyes flickering to his bruised chin. “Keep ice on that for ten minutes. The swelling will go down soon enough.”
Jessie whirls on her heel and disappears back into her den with a faint click of a lock that Trent knows means she isn't to be disturbed or face her wrath. So nice of her to deign to speak to him and offer such unwanted advice.
Trent grits his teeth, but putting that much pressure on his jaw hurt so he ceases the action. He sits on the floor, sulking, and presses the ice against his throbbing jaw. He needs a cigarette, or a beer, or better yet, a whole bottle of Jack Daniels.
Trent doesn't know what he wants.
a/n: I've got several more oneshots coming up, one of them even delving into femslash. *gasp* How unusual! So I hope you liked this one. There's a third one in this series (which is also a sequel to the fourth oneshot) and it's coming up soon.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
