#all the homework.) Johnny eventually sitting in his lap because ‘There are no closer seats professor’

[zappedbyzabka]

[deepbluexsea]

Apricity

Rating: R (suggestive content and language). Relationships: Jonathan/Gabriel (M/M). Recurring Characters: Johnny, Briel, Cordelia. Warning/Notes: 1) It gets just a liiiittle saucy. Just a little. 2) I portrayed Briel in this piece. His writer does a much better job at it, obviously.

FIVE YEARS AGO

“This should be a semicolon, not a comma.”

Johnny and Cordelia sat at the dining room table with a chair between them, seventeen-year-old Cordelia slaving over English homework that she’d procrastinated until the very last minute because she ‘didn’t know how to write a good enough essay.’ Johnny helping her had been Briel’s idea. It wasn’t just because he had a law degree and reading and writing was basically what he did for a living; there was also the ulterior motive of the two continuing to bond now that they had finally gotten somewhat comfortable around each other. 

They’d been at it now for over an hour, tensions rising by the minute. Outside the bay window the legion of half-bare trees shuddered and swayed with an oncoming storm. The rain had been steadily pouring since Johnny had gotten home from work and didn’t show any sign of stopping. The squall was supposed to be drawing in the first blanket of snow for the year.

“Gah, I hate it,” Cordelia whined, flopping her forehead down dramatically to her arm that rested on the table. The sing-song griping came directly from Briel’s genes, but the melodrama was a beast all its own. Whether it was unique to Delia or it was just a teenage thing, either way Johnny didn’t know what to do with it. “This sucks!” she shrieked into her arm, but the sound came out muffled.

“Uh… homework?” he eventually asked when she didn’t sit back up.

“Ugh, no!” she pushed her seat back and stood, starting to storm off. “You wouldn’t understand because you – ”

Before she could finish, all the lights in the house shut off in unison. Thunder rumbled, pictures and artwork shaking against the wall.

“Perfect,” Cordelia spoke as if her only emotion was total inconvenience, but then she was suddenly hovering next to where Johnny sat and gripping the back of his chair. “...um, do we have any flashlights?”

Johnny rose and felt his way to the other side of the room. “Hang on to me,” he told her, and she gathered the tail of his shirt into her fist. Being that they really didn’t connect with each other on a completely familial level yet, he guessed it would’ve been too awkward to just take his arm. Walking out into the hall, he called up the stairs to his husband who had been busy in his studio. 

“Briel?”

“Working on it,” he heard echo back faintly, which told Johnny precisely nothing about anything. Hell, there was roughly a 35% chance that the power outage was alternative-method-art-related rather than storm-related. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, dear!” came the semi-sarcastic reply, a little louder than the first one. Briel’s face appeared at the top of the stairs illuminated by the beam of a small, battery-powered easel light. He didn’t look electrocuted, so at least that was a good sign. 

Ten minutes later, there was a lit candle in most of the rooms. Cordelia had taken up residence stretched out across the couch and Johnny and Gabriel shared the loveseat, Johnny’s legs over Gabriel’s lap. The gas fireplace was the only source of light and considering all the ambiance, the lawyer could barely keep his eyes open. 

“My freaking phone died,” Delia muttered with a huff after two hours of the constant darkness, throwing the device at the cushion near her feet.

“You could go to bed early,” Briel suggested, tongue-in-cheek. In what could probably be expected, Cordelia responded with only a sharp laugh.

But sooner rather than later, the flames that lit up her face every few moments revealed that she’d decided to ‘rest her eyes’. Johnny was desperate to do the same, but every time he had almost drifted off Briel would squeeze his thigh or lean over to kiss him and he’d be too distracted to actually sleep. 

Johnny glanced over at Cordelia to be sure she was still out before giving in and taking Briel by the back of the neck, pulling him closer and deeply connecting their lips. His tongue dragged slowly against Briel’s before they parted all too soon for Johnny’s taste.

“I’m really proud of you for trying with CJ,” Briel whispered, trailing his kisses down Johnny’s neck now. “Can you tell?”

Johnny groaned under his breath, slipping a hand beneath Briel’s shirt. “Mm..hmm,” he responded quietly, his other hand lazily threading through his husband’s hair.

“It makes me so happy...” he continued, and Johnny couldn’t stop himself from leisurely exploring the other man’s muscles, fingers drifting lightly over the long expanse of his side. He was just about to suggest they go to their bedroom when the overhead lights flooded the room, the sound of the appliances in the house whirring back on.

“Ew, what the hell?” Cordelia exclaimed pretty much immediately, scrambling up off the couch. “This! This is what I hate!” she said as she stared directly at Johnny, then stomped over to the staircase and up each and every step. 

Briel tilted his head back so his voice would project to her. “Nothin’ wrong with displaying love, CJ!” he chastised, “It’s Mapplethorpe as fuck. ‘Jim and Tom, Sausalito’ at its finest!”

The door to her bedroom slammed by way of an answer.

Johnny’s cheeks burned as their eyes met. “Still proud?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Yes,” Briel responded without hesitation.

With a hand cupping his husband’s cheek, Johnny smiled softly and shook his head. “Let’s go to bed, Jim,” he teased.

“You got it, Tom.”