Jason and Matt

Waking up was something of an ordeal for Matt. He was having a hell of a time getting his brain to function and tell him basic things, like where he was. It took a moment, but he managed to open both eyes and found himself starring at familiar blue walls. The sheets were tangled around him, and there was an indent in the pillow next to his face. Liam. Moving made his head burst into flames -- or at least he hoped that was the reason for the splitting head ache. But there was no smoke or screaming alarm, so probably not. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled out toward the house, trying to remember everything that had happened.

It was flowing back slowly, bit by bit. He and Liam had gone to that stupid gangbang party upon his boyfriend's request. Maybe he'd gotten plastered to get through it? But that raised so many more questions. Like what the hell did he do after that? Through bleary eyes he could see a male form bent over, looking in the fridge. Liam looked weird to his hang-over weary eyes, thinner, taller. Stepping up behind him, Matt placed a hand on his hip as he reached for the glass of juice sitting on the counter, mumbling a "hey," before downing it in one gulp. It helped ease a little of the fog in his mind, and he turned to Liam, who had stood up.

Except it wasn't Liam. It hadn't been his weary eyes - this man was thinner and taller than Liam - with long dark hair so unlike the blonde locks Liam kept short. "You're not Liam," Matt said softly.

Dark eyes met his own as the blood drained from Matt's face. Those eyes. He knew those eyes. They flashed through his mind, and Matt remembered shoving a cock away from that supple mouth so he could look into them. He also remembered Liam screaming at him, Matt shoving Liam away. "Jason." It came out as a low moan. The glass slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor and he stumbled back a step, hand falling away from Jason's hip. "Oh, fuck. What did I do last night?"

The man had a well-stocked fridge, Jason had to give him that. Quite the wide variety of meats, cheese, vegetables. Other staples, like dairy, milk, juice. Aforementioned bacon. Eggs. Definitively not the poor empty state of a bachelor's fridge. At least it would offer a more substantial breakfast than beer and beef jerky. He was quite happy with the find of orange juice. It wasn't often that he got it. It felt like a luxury.

Reaching into the fridge, he grabbed a carrot, biting a chunk off the raw vegetable. It gave a satisfying crunch as he chewed, continuing his search through of the fridge. Cheese. Well, that did sound tasty. He could slice himself a chunk and-

A hand fell on his hip, a slight jolt shooting through Jason's spine. Shit. Busted. How had he not heard the man come in. Somewhat guiltily, he raised himself, eyes glancing over the man. Damn. Those bruises Jason had tried to prevent the night before, had come up in full force thanks to the man's rather persistent insistence on other activities.

"You're not Liam." At that, Jason inwardly cursed. Damnit. Seemed like the man didn't quite recall the evening before, where he had kicked out his boyfriend. Really, Jason should've known. The guy had gotten quite the beating the night before. Well, it was too late now to make any changes. What had happened, happened. Nothing he could do about that.

For a moment, Jason didn't speak, watching the man's face drain in colour, his name muttered. The glass that the man had taken shattered to the ground, a question stuttered as the man stepped back. Shit. Double shit. He was a regretter. Fuck. This was awkward. A regretter, who couldn't even remember what had happened. And who wanted an explanation.

"You got yourself in a fight yesterday at Paul's," he finally spoke, breaking the silence, somewhat awkwardly, half a carrot still in his hand. "With about everyone. And with who I assume was your boyfriend," he then added, pausing for a moment. Not sure what else to say, he took another bite of the carrot, regretting it almost instantly as it crunched rather loudly between his teeth. He swallowed.

"...I took you home. You were pretty beat." He then added, wavering. "But...you look like you're doing okay now....So... I guess I'll be on my way," he muttered.

A fight? No wonder he felt like complete shit. He gently prodded his face and regretted it as the tender flesh shot waves of pain through his head. More memories flowed into Matt's mind from the party debacle. His cock buried deep inside Jason's ass while he kept the other men off of him. The two of them getting pulled apart. Getting kicked in the ribs. Then there was Jason again, saving him and trying to get him to ice his wounds. He remembered shoving Liam off and telling him it was over. Good[! a voice in his head shouted. It's about time!

"I dumped Liam," he muttered.

But a lot of stuff after that point got fuzzy. He remembered sitting in his truck with Jason. He remembered pinning him in the hallway, kissing him. Fuck. What had he done? As he continued searching Jason's face, he remembered shoving him against the tiled wall of his shower, sliding his throbbing dick deep inside of him. Fuck! The guy had helped him out of a completely stupid situation, and Matt had used him like he was a common whore. Used him after he'd been trying to keep everyone else from using him. And for what?

And now the guy was going to leave. "No!" Matt had lunged forward and taken hold of Jason before thinking, gripping his shoulders. He realized a second too late how crazy he was acting and let go again, though he stayed close as he whispered, "uou don't have to go...please, don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take advantage of you. Please, please just...stay."

More memories flooded in, so close to Jason he could smell faintly his own soap. His tongue driving into Jason's ass. Jason pressed up against him in the shower as Matt talked about food.

"Breakfast," he murmured, I owe you breakfast." He owed him a lot more than that, but it would be a start. "Please?"

"Yeah. You did." Jason muttered, somewhat awkwardly as the man before him reached the conclusion that he had broken up with his partner. The man stared at him intently, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Oh shit. He was pretty sure he knew what was going to come up next. Blame. Still, he stood there, dark brown eyes remaining on the man, trying to predict the man's next move. "Sorry, man," he then added, somewhat awkwardly.

The man, however, merely stood there, just looking. Jason wasn't even sure if the man had heard him. Wasn't even sure if the words he had forced out of his throat had made an actual sound, or whether they had been barely a whisper. His voice tended to disappear when he became uncomfortable. And the man's intense gaze was making him very uncomfortable.

Jason's eyes widened as the man suddenly lurched at him, hands grabbing at his shoulders. In a reflex, the man froze in place. He didn't even try to defend himself, though, luckily, it seemed the man had no true intention to attack him, letting go almost instantly.

"Ehm. Yeah....Whatever...Sure." Jason spoke as the man told him not to go, offering up breakfast. Really, all his thoughts were on how the man had to be some sort of mental case, but he felt uneasy declining the almost desperate plea. Who knew what the guy would do next? It had already been made clear the night before that the man was a bit unpredictable. Unhinged perhaps. The best thing to do was to go along with it, and just get out as soon as he could. It was only breakfast. What was the worst that could happen, apart from some awkwardness?

And besides....he was starving. The opportunity to have a home-cooked meal didn't come along all that often. Wasn't it worth staying behind for?

Jason was staying. Good. Now he had to figure out how to pour all the guilt he felt into an omelet, or something, and not beat his head into the wall. He also had to keep his wandering hands from grabbing at Jason. He didn't know why, but he institutionally wanted to touch him, brush the hair in his face over his ear. His hand ached to grab his hip again. What was up with him this morning? One night of using the poor guy, and he didn't want to stop touching him. Fuck.

Swallowing down his fear, self-loathing, regret, he stepped away from Jason, eyeing the carrot the guy was holding with the tiniest of frowns -- not because he minded Jason raiding the fridge, but it felt like an odd thing for him to have grabbed. There were muffins he'd made the other day in a basket on the counter right next to the fridge, filled with fresh, juicy berries. But he'd gone for raw vegetables? It made the pit of Matt's stomach roil, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

His mind was scattered all over the place, but at least he had enough sense to reach down and pick up the pieces of glass that has once been a part of a set. He threw the big chunks in the garbage and swept up any remnants before moving to the fridge.

Looking at the shelves he noted that he really needed to go shopping. He was out of some of his favorites, but...there were a half dozen eggs, and he knew he had a loaf of sourdough in the crisper, and a bottle of olive oil and assorted spices. It would work. "You said soft boiled eggs, right?" He was more in control of himself now, talking about his passion. Jason nodded. "Alright, I'll whip something together." He realized Jason had been just sort of standing there the entire time, and he mentioned, "you can watch some TV, if you want? Remote's on the coffee table. Breakfast should be ready in twenty."

He was lost in his mind as he cooked, setting a pot of water on the stove to boil and turning on the oven. As it heated, he grabbed the bread and cut it into strips. Next he melted butter, adding in a dash of fresh parsley and thyme as well as some dijon and pepper. The water was boiling now so he put the eggs in to cook, finding some gruyère and romano in his fridge. He pulled a pan and lined it with foil, soaking the bread strips in the mixture before laying them on the pan, sprinkling them with the cheeses, and popping it into the oven.

He was all over the kitchen while things cooked, fussing over his eggs, which he finally set on the table in their own little egg cups, the toast on a little plate. "Soft eggs with buttered herb-gruyere toast," he announced with a flourish, then felt sort of silly. As Jason approached the table, a lot of the guilt that had floated away while he lost himself in the kitchen settled back into his stomach.

For a short moment, Matt still looked at him with an odd, slight frown, glancing at the carrot Jason had taken, before the man turned away. Somewhat awkwardly, Jason watched as the man cleaned the broken glass and then rummaged through the fridge, giving a slight nod when the man asked if it were soft boiled eggs that he had requested. The question surprised Jason. The man had trouble recalling anything that had happened the previous night, yet he remembered something as insignificant as how he liked his eggs? Odd indeed. Still, before he could ponder it any further, the man offered he could go and watch television. Breakfast in twenty.

Again, Jason nodded, his voice feeling strangely uncooperative. It was as if his tongue lay heavy in his mouth, refusing to stir to form the words his mind struggled to string together. Truth was, everything the man did threw Jason. Confused him. The man behaved so oddly, yet kind, leaving Jason to struggle to decide whether the man was indeed just kind, or a complete weirdo, possible psycho. With as nice as the man was currently treating him -cooking him breakfast, no less-, Jason could only wonder how long it would be before it would snap. People never were kind for no reason. There was always a price. So what would Matt's be?

Still, those were matters for later. All he could do right now was wait. Sauntering over to the sofa, he took the remote to flick on the television, before sinking down on the plush pillows of the sofa. Damn, that was comfortable. Clicking through the channels, he settled on Saturday morning cartoons. How long had it been since he had seen those? Too long, it seemed. Felt like centuries. A different lifetime. In a way, it was.

The cartoon had just ran to its end when Matt announced breakfast to be ready.

Standing up, Jason moved towards the table, for a moment seeming to look at Matt for reassurance that yes, the finely cooked meal was meant for him, before sitting down.

"Thanks..." he muttered, awkward still, voice still not entirely willing to cooperate.

Already, what the man had called the dish had gone lost in Jason's mind, but as he glanced down at it, it seemed to be a fancier version of the "Eggs and Soldiers" his mother used to make for him, as a treat, or when he'd feel ill.

He barely remembered her face. It had been so long. How old had he been when she had died, his father's 'English Rose'? Three? Four? She was a mere ghost of his memory, though he remembered she had been the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Brown, curly hair, the same Jason had inherited. Kind eyes. A loving smile.

He shook the thought. That time was long gone. Those memories belonged in the past. Cracking open an egg, he somewhat tentatively dipped in the cheesy toast.

A bite. God. That tasted heavenly. Another. The flavors were rich, overtaking his senses. It wasn't all that long before he lost his reserve, scarfing down his food with the vigour of a man who had been lost in the desert for weeks.

Matt just watched, his food untouched, as Jason sat across from him and thoroughly enjoyed the meal he had prepared. It wasn't anything particularly fancy, but he seemed to greatly appreciate it, and it made Matt feel damn good. Liam had always whined about the things he'd made, asking why he couldn't use ingredients with pronounceable names and less calories.

But he really should not be thinking of Liam, after what he had done to Jason last night.

With a small frown that he quickly smoothed back into a polite smile, he pushed all thought of his now ex out of his mind. He needed to focus on Jason.

Jason noticed him then, eyeing first him, then his empty plate, and then Matt again. He stopped eating, and Matt wanted to kick himself for the questions he saw flashing across Jason's face.

"Please, keep eating. It's amazing to have someone enjoy my food." Speaking of which, his own food wouldn't be as good cold, so he cracked open his egg and dipped a strip of toast into the warm creamy yolk, taking a bite. It took a moment, but finally Jason resumed eating, licking yolk from his finger. Matt's cock gave an excited little jump and he shifted in his seat.

Jason's first egg gone, Matt jumped up and pulled another from the little warmer pocket he'd put them in, setting it in his egg cup before returning to his own.

"So..." Conversation should be had, but what exactly should he say? I'm terribly sorry I got overly possessive of you last night for no apparent reason, and then took advantage of you? He settled for a simple, "I'm sorry, Jason," setting his half eaten piece of toast down. His stomach suddenly was rejecting any thought of food, and he had to take a shallow breath as he remembered all the things he had done to the other man last night. He hated that they got him so excited, his erection sliding down the leg of the sweat pants he wore. "I'm really sorry."

Jason had been scoffing away the eggs and fancy toast for a while, when he suddenly became aware of the man across from him eyeing him up, rather oddly. Toast in mid-air, a drop of runny, yellow yolk threatening to spill off, he glanced up, pausing his eating. As the man stared at him, Jason became fully aware of his own table manners -or perhaps, the lack there-of. He hadn't exactly been all too graceful in the way he had started to wolf things down. But, what could he say? He'd been hungry and damn, it was delicious. The drop of yolk dripped down, hit the table. Jason's eye followed it. Shit.

The man spoke up, stating that he could keep eating. The words surprised Jason slightly. It was wonderful someone enjoyed it? As in implying that there was someone -or multiple someones?- that didn't? Fuck. If anyone would cook a breakfast like this for him every day, Jason would fucking worship them.

A bit weary still, he ran his finger across the fallen yolk, trying to clean the spill up. Across from him, the man dug into his own food, Jason following his example after a few moments, once again dipping toast to egg. He just couldn't leave the food for long. It was just too tempting.

Yet again, he paused his eating as the man suddenly spoke up, Jason's brown eyes falling upon his face. At his apology, an even deeper frown fell over his face. Sorry? For what? He pulled his shoulders up, shrugged slightly. It didn't matter. A second sorry followed.

"Is fine." He simply stated, again shrugging slightly, though the words came somewhat awkwardly. "No big deal," he then added, not sure what to say. He wasn't even sure what the man was apologizing for.

No big deal? It was a very big deal. Matt felt like a complete jerk, a user. At least breakfast was better than cab fare taped to his forehead, he supposed. Not that that kind of thing would ever even occur to Matt; it was too cruel. As he watched Jason, he again found himself wanting to kiss his cheek, maybe snuggle up with him on the couch. All shit he used to do with Liam, years back, before the guy had decided one dick wasn't enough. He supposed Jason had a similar view, what with him being a willing participant in the party last night. And ones before, apparently. Maybe he really didn't see what Matt had done last night as anything but normal. Well, it wasn't normal for Matt, and he didn't like that he had been one of 'those guys' last night.

"So, uh...what do you want to do after breakfast? I've got a ton of video games, and they always play movie marathons on channel fifty-three on Saturdays..." he was getting clingy. Liam had always told him he was like an annoying chick, one round between the sheets and he turned to glue. His tone fell and he poked at his egg with a piece of toast. "Or, uh...I could take you home, if you...want to go home," he mumbled awkwardly.

Again, the man started to watch him eat, once again continuing to make Jason feel awkward, and out of place. Hadn't it been that the man had more or less exclaimed that he hadn't wanted Jason to go, Jason would've had the impression the man wanted him to leave. Self-consciously, he slowly dipped his toast in the egg, scraping out the yellow goo.

The man just watched him. It was creepy. He wavered, inwardly cursing when another drop of yolk failed to cling to the bread, splatting on the table. Well, even trying to eat less messily still ended up with him making a mess.

A finger once again moved to swipe away the drop of yellow, lips curling around his finger as he sucked it off, tongue lapping the goo away, just as the man posed his question. What did he want to do. They could play games! Or watch a movie, the man suggested. Again, Jason paused in his movement, finger still lingering against his lips like an idiot as he processed the information. The man wanted him to stay? Even longer?

It took a moment for him to realize how stupid he must've looked, the man finally letting his hand down.

"I...." He wasn't even sure what to say. The invitation threw him. It wasn't like no-one had ever wanted him to stay longer, but for games or a movie? Other men weren't so coy about what they wanted, but in this case, Jason wasn't even convinced the man was playing coy. In fact, he seemed quite genuine in his offer. It still didn't change the fact that the man was the most off man he'd ever met.

"..I've got places to be." He then muttered, eyes dwelling away.