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Jim pulls up to the side of the road and slides out of his truck. He whistles low as he crosses towards where Corey’s silhouetted against the fire of the wreck.
He immediately regrets picking up. He was sure Shawn and Joe had just let it ring. Corey had called Jim at home from a payphone half a mile down the road. Opening the conversation with a gruff ‘... I’ve fucked up, man.’
‘Holy shit,’ Jim says as he stops at Corey’s shoulder. He doesn’t speak. So Jim gives him a once over. He looks shit; shoulders slumped, his badly dyed hair greasy and wearing a misbuttoned plaid shirt over a wife-beater and sweats. And bare feet. Like he’d run straight out into the night. Which Jim figures he probably did.
‘Hey man,’ Corey says, voice rough. Jim looks at his face properly. There’s a graze on his cheek and Jim realises he’s crying. Instantly he feels himself flushing with embarrassment. He hates crying. All crying. Kids crying. Girls crying. Especially his bandmate crying. Crying hot, angry tears with only Jim to comfort him alone on the empty road in the middle of the night.
‘What happened?’ Jim says, clearing his throat. Corey huffs. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim can see him hugging himself hard, holding onto his elbows.
‘She fucking kicking me out,’ he says, then his voice catches and Jim has to clench his jaw to stop himself turning around a getting right back into his truck. He inwardly groans. Fucking relationship drama.
Jim already knows the entire story without Corey saying a word. Corey had had yet another motherfucking fight with his motherfucking girlfriend and crashed his motherfucking car and called Jim out in the middle of the motherfucking night—
‘Said— said she never wanted to see me again.’ Corey hiccups and sniffs wiping his nose with his sleeve. ‘I was just—’ he swallows and takes a couple of shaking breaths. ‘I just thought I’d make her fucking miss me or some shit.’ Corey sniffs again. ‘I just let go of the wheel.’
Jim feels his pulse jolt. Shit. He tries not to panic. Shit. Being an overwrought, drunk dumbass (like he had assumed Corey was being) and totalling a car is one thing. But this is quite another. And Jim is already so far out of his fucking depth he wants to bounce into next week.
‘Shit, man,’ he says, looking at the flickering flames and not knowing what to say. Corey huffs again and when Jim looks at him he’s started to cry properly, heavy sobs, shoulders heaving as he sinks in on himself. Jim looks up and down the road as if the universe might send him a clue. But when it doesn't materialise he stumps awkwardly over Corey and pulls him into his arms.
Jim rubs his back, trying to get his brain to work. Shawn’s the only person Jim’s ever seen talk Corey down, so Jim hugs him and wildly tries to think what Shawn would do. Probably give him a cigarette and tell him to shut the fuck up.
‘I’m so fucking stupid,’ Corey says, pressing his face against Jim’s t-shirt. Jim can feel his hot tears and snort wetting it through but it doesn’t seem to matter right that second.
‘No, no you’re not,’ Jim mumbles, hugging him harder and cupping a hand around his head. He can feel Corey’s hands curled against his stomach like an animal's paws. Jim leans his cheek against the top of Corey’s head. His hair smells kind of smokey and Jim can feel him shivering, remembering his feet are bare.
‘Let’s go back, huh?’ Jim says quietly, rubbing his back a bit trying to get him to move. ‘You can stay with me, we can call it in tomorrow,’ he adds, eyeing the now burned-out car. Corey nods against his chest. Jim loosens his arms and steps back a little.
He leads Corey over to his truck, going around to open the door for him, putting a hand on his back to help him up. He gets Corey settled in the shotgun and goes back around.
He glances once more at the wreck, feeling cold. He looks away quickly, glancing at Corey once before throwing the truck into drive and peeling out.
Corey doesn’t speak the entire drive back to Jim’s place. Jim doesn’t speak either, listening to the radio and to Corey’s breathing evening out as he calms down. Jim’s relieved. Jim is very deeply relieved the crying has stopped.
When they pull up Jim gets out to open Corey’s door for him again. The house is dark and silent. All Jim’s housemates are in town; like most people on a Saturday night. Before Corey’s call, Jim had been noodling on his guitar, savouring the solitude. They’re just under a month out from the album coming out and the tour cycle starting again so Jim’s taking all the alone time he can get.
Jim ushers Corey inside. He just sort of stands in the entrance hall as if waiting for instructions. Jim scratches the back of his and asks if Corey wants to shower, eyeing the sweat-stained shirt and mud on his feet. Corey nods mutely so Jim takes him upstairs leaving him in the bathroom to go get them a beer. Jim has yet to find a situation beer doesn’t improve.
When Jim comes back Corey’s sitting on the edge of the tub still completely dressed. So Jim dumps the beers in the sink and leans over Corey to start unbuttoning his shirt. Corey lets him. Jim works methodically, not sure what it says that he’s more comfortable stripping Corey’s top off than looking him in the eye right that second.
‘C’mon,’ Jim says, indicating Corey’s sweats as he leans over to turn on the shower. He mistimes it so the spray wets him all along his left side. He grunts, stepping back cursing. He glances at Corey, who’s naked now. Jim can’t quite keep his eyes dipping to Corey’s cock, though he’s now seen it (along with Corey’s ass) more times than he cared to.
Corey climbs into the tub, leaving the curtain half-open so from where he’s perched on the toilet Jim has a perfectly framed view of the water running over Corey’s glistening skin. Jim grabs a beer looking down at his own hands instead. This night is getting weirder and weirder.
‘Here,’ Jim says, sitting up to pass Corey the other beer.
‘Thanks, man,’ Corey says, accepting and opening it with his teeth the way Jim’s grandmother had always told him off for doing. Jim grins, warmed by the thought.
The warm water seems to have thawed Corey out a little as well. He downs the beer, setting it back on the counter. Groaning softly as he steps back under the spray, shaking out his hair. Jim watches him, feeling like his heart rate has returned to resting for the first time in an hour.
‘Want me to wash your hair?’ Jim finds himself asking. Finding himself wanting to touch, to feel Corey’s mass, check he’s safe, check he’s real. Corey turns to look at him for a moment and then nods. Jim nods too, getting up. He realises he hasn’t really thought through the logistics of this offer and is just wondering how he’s going to do this without getting soaked.
‘You gonna get in then?’ Corey says, peering at him as he holds the curtain back a little and Jim realises Corey’s expecting him to get in the shower with him. He opens his mouth to tell him no when something about Corey’s expression makes him yield.
Jim nods again striping off quickly and climbing into the tub as though he showers with other men all the time. Which, well, he’s definitely showered with Corey and the others more than he can actually count.
But as Corey pulls the shower curtain back across, all the way this time, the feeling is definitely different. Humid and intimate in a way Jim hasn’t experienced before.
‘So um…’ Jim starts awkwardly because Corey’s just standing staring at him in the kind of muted light. Corey’s blocking most of the shower’s spray but Jim can feel flecks of water here and there on his upper chest, making his nipples taut, and on his thighs, making the sensitive skin tingle.
Jim doesn’t know what to do or say so he just sort of opens his arms again, like he had in front of the burning car, and Corey steps into them like they're carrying on a conversation they’ve been having for hours.
This feels different too. Corey pressed up against him, hugging him around the waist, warm wet skin to warm wet skin. Jim can feel Corey’s cock against his thigh.
Jim leans his cheek on his wet hair again and breathes him in, feeling tiny rivulets of water run over his skin. His dick has apparently taken notice of the fact there's a hot slick body pressed up against him. Jim closes his eyes trying to will his dick down but that only seems to make his pulse pound harder.
‘Sorry, man,’ he mumbles, shifting in the embrace, knowing Corey must be able to feel his cock poking against his stomach. Corey doesn’t say anything and doesn’t move back. Jim huffs softly, gently taking hold of Corey’s elbows coaxing him to unwrap his arms. But Corey hums, pressing him into him more.
Then Corey shifts in his arms just slightly and Jim feels his cock brush against his thigh. He’s hard too. Jim can feel it. His cock hot and thick against Jim’s inner thigh. Jim’s not really sure why but he lets go of Corey’s elbow and reaches to touch his cock. He has a kind of half-thought that he’s just checking Corey is actually hard.
But when his fingers brush it, Corey lets out a gushing sigh pressing closer to his chest. Jim puts a hand on his back as he carefully fits the other around his cock. It’s hot against his palm, slick from the shower spray. Jim strokes him as Corey mouths his chest. It feels good — better than it has any right to. Corey hums, mumbling and Jim feels fingertips on his hip.
Corey's mouth is on his neck as his hand moves between Jim’s thighs. Jim swears softly, gripping Corey’s dick firmer, speeding up his strokes. Corey presses up close against him, water flicking off his skin. His head is tucked into Jim’s neck, hips ticking up into his touch as he works Jim’s cock clumsily.
Jim hugs him closer, arm clamping around his waist. His thighs are starting to tremble and the hot water is burning on his oversensitive skin.
‘Fuck, fuck,’ Corey slurs against his collarbone, as his hips jerking up, fucking into Jim’s fist.
‘Yeah, c’mon yeah,’ Jim mumbles back, only half aware that he's speaking at all. He’s twisted up tight from Corey’s rough palm working over his cock. Corey whines, panting hot breathes against his skin. Jim feels his go rigid, pressing so hard against Jim he has to step back to keep them upright. He can feel Corey coming over his fist even as the water washes his come away.
Corey stills, panting against Jim’s skin. Jim strokes his thumb along his spine. His cock’s still throbbing and distracting him. Corey shifts, lifting his head to kiss Jim’s neck as his hand tightens on his cock again. Jim grunts. He can feel Corey's teeth digging into his skin and the sting makes him shudder.
‘D-do that again,’ he shutters and Corey does. Jim groans, shuddering harder. Corey starts to stroke his cock rougher. Jim moans, hugging Corey hard, practically hanging off him as he feels the orgasm unfurling in his gut. Jim hisses through his teeth, shaking hard as he comes.
He loosens his grip on Corey, stepping back still dazed. His hands are just sort of hanging at his sides and he’s got no idea what to do with them. He’s got no idea what to do at all. He can’t look at Corey. He can’t put together all the parts of what has just happened. But he’s still kind of just standing there and Corey just standing there too.
He forces himself to look up, relieved to see Corey isn’t crying again or some shit like that. He does look about as shocked as Jim feels but when Jim looks at him he grins.
‘You gonna wash it?’ he asks, bringing a hand up to his hair. For a moment Jim hasn’t got a clue what he’s talking about and then he remembers and nods. Corey nods too and turns away from him. Jim takes a step towards him reaching for the shampoo bottle.