#i live for queerplatonic chase and jj

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - To Accept Defeat

Summary: Jameson doesn’t appreciate how Chase is treated by Stacy and while it’s in the nature of a gentleman to keep his nose out of other people’s business, there comes a point where he can’t stay silent anymore.

Jameson wasn’t one to get angry—or if he was, he was adept at hiding it. The ability to internalize was something he had apparently inherited from Jack but even if that hadn’t been the case, he was almost entirely confident that he would have done it anyway. A gentleman maintained a sense of dignity and composure where no one else could. When anger got the better of a man, it brought out the worst in him and frankly, Jameson didn’t want that for himself.

The situation with Stacy, however, was making it increasingly difficult to remember that.

While Jameson had been informed by Chase himself about his broken family, he had never actually gotten to see it for himself until recently. Usually when Chase got an opportunity to see the kids, he would drive to Stacy’s house to pick them up and bring them back here. A scheduling conflict, however, had forced a change, bringing Stacy to Egos Incorporated for the first time since Jameson had been created. It would be this way for the next three months and by all accounts, Stacy wasn’t particularly pleased about it.

Jameson had been somewhat puzzled to see Chase bolting around the house, sweeping scattered magazines into a perfectly square pile on the edge of the coffee table and frenziedly scrubbing the dishes in the sink that just yesterday he had said he didn’t care about. By the time the older Ego started adjusting the dining room chairs so each of them were exactly one foot apart, Jameson’s curiosity had become too great.

“Whyfor…?” he began, leaning forward to grab his attention and gesturing vaguely at the chairs.

“Oh, it’s just—” Chase paused for only a moment, flashing him a hurried, strained smile. “Stacy just wants to know things look fine for the kids. Speakin’ of which, I better freshen up! If the doorbell rings while I’m in the bathroom, let me grab it, okay? Well, actually, she won’t wanna be kept waiting, so maybe—Uhh—just come and get me if you hear them!” With that he rushed away, leaving a thoroughly perplexed Jameson in his wake as he dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Chase wasn’t one to fuss over the small details and it wasn’t as if Stacy intended to stay. Why would he go to so much trouble for an interaction that would likely only last moments?

Ever so peculiar! As soon as the bell rang and Chase burst out of the bathroom to answer it, however, Jameson didn’t have any time to think about it. Chase realized halfway to the door that he still had his comb clutched in one hand and he glanced hurriedly around, tossing it onto the table before pulling the door open.

“Hey, you two!” he exclaimed, scooping up Connor and Brianna in a hug that Jameson knew could never properly tell them how much he loved them. “Wow, you’re getting so big! Have you grown half a foot since I last saw you?!”

“You saw us last month, Daddy,” Connor laughed, to which Chase tutted and kissed his head.

“Yeah, well, a lot can happen in a month! You and your sister go say hi to Jameson while I talk with your mom, okay?”

Just as they should, Jameson and the kids exchanged brief, polite greetings, making small talk for a few moments before they ran down the hall to go play. It was then that JJ caught the last of Stacy and Chase’s conversation.

“…and remember to make Connor wear his allergy wristband if you go out to eat,” Stacy was saying. “Actually, no. If you have Schneeplestein cooking like you did last time, you should probably have him wearing it at all times. And…” There she looked past him, hazel eyes narrowing at the dining room table. “Well. I guess I should’ve expected you to leave your comb where you eat, but try to make sure neither of them get into the habit.”

Chase flinched at that, almost imperceptibly, and gave her nothing but a tight nod. As soon as the door closed, the vlogger heaved a deep sigh, tousling his freshly combed hair back to its natural state, and Jameson felt something crestfallen turn in his chest at the sight.

“You…you did some handy work in record time, Da,” he ventured as Chase trudged back to the table, snatching up his wayward comb. “You made the place spick-and-span, for the most part!”

“Yeah…‘for the most part’ doesn’t really cut it for her,” Chase muttered resignedly.

The second time they visited, Jameson did his best to help Chase as he scrambled around the house for his cleanup. The two of them were able to tackle much more than Chase would have alone; given that last night had been movie night, there was a more substantial mess for them to take care of. As they worked, Jameson could feel his own stress peaking as he thought of what Stacy had said to Chase last time. Out of all the clean and presentable area, she had pinpointed that one small detail that would leave Chase at fault! He didn’t want that to happen again.

He was certain, however, that if it did, the others would be able to speak up for him. They were all home this time and Jameson already had a sense that Marvin and Dr. Schneeplestein were on less than savory terms with Stacy. Neither of them were prone to keeping quiet when something displeased them, so if she tried any funny business, they would be there.

Jameson was relieved to see that the kids were just as excited to visit Chase again as he was to have them. He had a feeling they missed him more than they would say—or were allowed to say—in front of their mom and the hugs they shared with their dad at the door did all three of them good.

As he’d expected, Jackieboy got the privilege of the next hug, hefting them both up in his arms at once and spinning them around, earning gleeful whoops from the both of them before Brianna wriggled away and lunged at the doctor, latching onto him around the waist and already chattering excitedly about watching him work. Jameson smiled distractedly at the sight, but he was more preoccupied with glancing sideways to see what Chase and Stacy where doing. Marvin too was watching them intently.

“Alright, just try not to crowd them! You’ll have them burnt out and asking to come home within the first ten minutes if you keep suffocating them like that,” Stacy was protesting as she gestured to Jackieboy and Schneep. The older two Egos looked up at that and the kids quieted, uncertainly sliding onto the floor. Jameson swallowed hard to see them glancing between their parents, already watching for the signs of a fight.

“We’re not crowding them, okay? We’re just happy to see them,” Chase explained evenly, though there was an edge to his voice that was simultaneously comprised of annoyance and pleading.

“Well, don’t get too excited,” Stacy shot back. “It’s only for three nights.”

“Don’t you think I know that?! You don’t have to tell me, I’m more than aware!” Chase snapped, glancing down and to the side only a moment after the words left his mouth, as if he already regretted them. Stacy simply shifted her weight back, raising her eyebrows and tsking wordlessly. She didn’t need words; her disapproval and self-righteousness were made more than clear in that one gesture.

Wide-eyed, Jameson glanced around at the others, expecting one of them—any of them to speak up. Jackieboy pressed his lips tightly together, carding a hand through Connor’s hair, and Schneep kept his eyes low, squeezing Brianna’s shoulder and suggesting in a soft voice that they go to his lab and see what work had to be done. As they made a hurried exit, Jameson looked past them to Marvin. He of all people would—

He wouldn’t? Beneath his mask, the magician’s face was flushed with anger and his jaw was working up a storm, but he said nothing. How could that be? Jameson wondered, aghast, as Chase managed an uncomfortable goodbye and shut the door with more force than was strictly necessary, turning on his heel and forcing a wan smile at Connor, who stayed at Jackieboy’s side even as Chase approached.

“S-Sorry about that, buddy,” he offered tentatively. “Your mom’s a little stressed, I think. But, uh, I think Jackieboy’s got some new action figures. You wanna check ’em out?” Connor nodded apprehensively, though at the very least Jameson was glad that he didn’t hesitate to take Chase’s hand when he held it out. As they ducked into Jackieboy’s room, Jameson caught the hero’s arm before he could follow.

“Jackieboy! I—I can’t say I understand,” he stammered. “Why does Chase allow Ms. Sullivan to speak to him that way? Why did none of you—?”

“Well…I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to explain,” Jackieboy admitted, hesitating for a moment or two as if to find the right words. “The short answer is that it’s not our place, and if we try to argue with Stacy she’ll be more than happy to. She always has to have the last word and won’t stop until she has it, so it’s useless to try reasoning with her. More importantly, it hurts Chase to see us fighting with her.”

“But for her to do it in front of the little ones!” Jameson protested, planting his hands on his hips incredulously. “What’s to happen when they’re no longer little britches, when they reach that nasty stage of rebellion, and they believe it’s alright to treat their father this way because their mum has modeled it for them? It’s not right, not in the least!”

“We know, Jameson, but Chase has to choose to stand up for himself when he’s ready. It’s his job to decide what he tells his kids about the situation,” the older Ego stated. “We can’t do it for him. They are the parents and what they model for their kids is what they choose to.”

Glowering, Jameson moved his hands from his hips to his chest, folding them tightly as he countered sharply, “It wasn’t Chase’s choice to model divorce for them.”

He could only be slightly satisfied at the startled expression that came over Jackieboy’s face; it only lasted for a few seconds before he wordlessly shook his head and drifted toward the other room to join Chase and Connor.

Left on his own to think, Jameson fretted and simmered.

He had truly done his best to forget about it, to process through it, to convince himself that it was for the best if he didn’t interfere. He had repeated Jackieboy’s words to himself more times than he could count, trying to reason with them—trying to tell himself that they were the truth. Every single time, he failed with the simple realization that it just wasn’t right.

The divorce itself wasn’t right. Perhaps the marriage hadn’t been right, but the divorce certainly wasn’t. In Jameson’s mind, it was black and white: women were meant to respect their husbands and men were meant to cherish their wives. They were meant to communicate, acknowledge differences and discover similarities. Where had Chase and Stacy gone wrong? If they were ever really in love, shouldn’t they have found it easy to respect, support and cherish each other?

Had they ever been in love?

Jameson couldn’t speak for that. He was young, too young. He had never gotten the chance to see them when they were together; all he could see was the aftereffect, the damage it had done to Chase’s heart, and it broke his own.

He didn’t know Stacy’s side of the story. Perhaps he was judging her too harshly when it came to the terms and circumstances of the divorce, but whatever they were, they couldn’t have been any excuse for treating Chase the way she did now.

In front of the children, no less! He just couldn’t get it out of his mind. Connor and Brianna were sweet children; every time Jameson looked at them, he could see Chase in their smiles and their eyes. The thought of them ever treating someone the way their mother treated Chase made him feel sick.

That same stomach-turning dread was pooling thick in his stomach as he watched Chase allow the children past him. He hadn’t hugged them for quite as long this time, Jameson noted, resisting the urge to chew on his lower lip. Was it because he wanted to get rid of Stacy sooner, so he couldn’t spare more time for it?

“So I heard you and Connor had a lot of fun playing in the backyard last time,” Stacy remarked to Chase with a lightness in her tone that Jameson wasn’t used to hearing from her. It only made him tense. Chase managed to keep his composure better than Jameson did, leaning against the doorframe and loosely folding his arms.

“Yeah, we did,” he concurred warily. “What’s that got to do with—?”

“I just want to remind you, Chase, that we can afford better things now than we could when you were working for us. I didn’t appreciate having him come home with his thirty-dollar pair of jeans muddy and torn up in the knees!”

“Look, I did my best to wash them, but the stains wouldn’t come out,” Chase complained.

“Your best? What exactly is your best?” Stacy demanded. “Did you only put them through the wash once because you were busy with other things? When they’re with you, it seems like you’re only willing to get your hands dirty when you’re having fun! That hasn’t changed a bit!”

“I said I was sorry, Mama,” Connor piped up weakly, going unheard as he shrank close to his sister. Brianna simply kept her head ducked, tugging on her brother’s hand to drag him down the hall and find some kind of escape.

“Look, this is stupid,” Chase huffed. “I’ll put ’em through twice if that’s what you want—”

“I want to know that you’re actually taking care of them! I mean, let’s hope you’re not taking care of them the way you take care of yourself!” Stacy scoffed, throwing up her hands. “Look at you! At the very least, the house is clean but you look like you haven’t showered in four days and just standing here for three minutes, I can already smell the whiskey on you!”

“Stacy—” Chase’s voice hitched on her name and he took a hurried breath, taking a few steps back and gripping the edge of the door so he could swing it shut more easily. “Stacy, I don’t want to argue with you, okay? I just want—”

“You want to pretend that everything’s perfect, like you used to?” Stacy spat. “Well, fine, I’ll let you live in your little fantasy but you’re nowhere near perfect, Chase. Try to actually be responsible with them this time!”

“Enough!”

The outburst was silent, so it didn’t have the thunder behind it that commanded respect, but both Chase and Stacy fell back a step when the speech slide burst into view between them. The rush of anger that went straight to Jameson’s chest was so hot and so fast that it was enough to make him lightheaded as he stalked onto the scene, steering Chase back a few more feet so he could stand in his place.

“I have done my best to be an appropriate bystander and hold my tongue the past few times you’ve come here,” he growled, bristling at her. “I’m not one to insult the fairer sex but I simply—I can’t stand for this! Chase may take your insults quietly but I have a few of my own for you! You are the most impetuous, incorrigible, and immature woman I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing and you have absolutely no right to treat him as you do. You’re a fribble and a fussbudget! I understand now why you and Chase were incompatible—it’s because you can’t see the good in anything. You’re superficial and petty!”

“Jem, stop!” Chase gasped, pulling on his shoulder to get his attention and promptly being smacked off.

“I’ve known Chase for less than a year and I already know far more of him than you ever could! You make it out to be as if he left you! Since you left, he’s wanted nothing more than a second chance to prove that he could be a good husband and father, that he could do better than he did, but you never give him that chance! You tear him down every time you see him because you’re afraid that sometime you might come and he might meet your standards! You might realize that you made a mistake! Oh, but you could never admit that. You always find something else to natter about because you’ll never be content!

“To put it plainly, madam, I hope you’re never content. I hope you continue to be unhappy, making the world around you unhappy and wondering why nothing works out as you want it to, and I hope you come to realize far too late that it’s because you didn’t keep a loving, loyal, honorable man when you had the chance!” Tugging shortly on the hem of his vest, Jameson shifted his weight back and forth testily, staring her down under the brim of his hat. “You’re nowhere near perfect either, you unreasonable biddy, and that’s why you don’t deserve him. You never did.”

The room behind him had fallen into silence during his rant, which made Chase’s shaky “Jameson…” all the louder to his ears. He shifted, glanced sternly and unrepentantly at his father-figure and then nearly stumbled backward into him as the force of Stacy’s hand caught him across the face. Cursing, Chase automatically lunged to catch him as he pressed a hand to his stinging cheek, gripping his shoulders tightly in a simultaneous attempt to hold him steady and hold him back.

“What d’you know?” Stacy spat, shaking her hand and then clenching it with the other at her sides. “I guess even the dumb can’t shut up sometimes. Try translating that to him, Chase.”

“You are poisonous,” Jameson hissed, breaking free of Chase’s arms just long enough to slam the door in her face.

[septic-dr-schneep]

;w;

Helping Hand. 

(Fancied drawing more Puppet JJ, trying out what size he could be in comparison to the others. So here he is learning how to stand without strings, Chase giving him a hand since he knows all too well what it’s like to be a puppet.. ) :)

[septic-dr-schneep]

Give us those sweet sweet JJ roasts

Hahahaha, I can already imagine them XD

Chase: :(

Jameson: [signing] Oh, golly, you look so out of sorts! What’s wrong?

Chase: Oh, there’s just a guy over there who made this snarky comment about how Stacy and I are doing. He already knows we’ve broken up.

Jameson, whirling around: Why, you – you milksopping mumpsimus! You ninnyhammering snollygoster!

Chase, wide-eyed: What?

Jameson: You gadabout, gollumptuous nigmenogus gobstopper!

Chase, leaning back in fear: WHAT?

Jameson: …Clack-boxing, cow-handed, gingersnappish foppling – you’re Death’s head on a mop-stick!

Chase: OKAY NO, I AM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU TO STOP

[septic-dr-schneep]

Chase, glumly: I think I’m just like a penny.

Jameson: [signing] Oh? How so?

Chase: Well, basically, I’m not worth much.

Jameson: [signing violently] You know what?! I agree! You are just like a penny! 

Jameson: You shine, you’re unspoiled, you have multiple sides, you’re always there, you help in small but meaningful ways and you bring the best of luck!

Chase, weeping: That’s it, I’m adopting you <3

[septic-dr-schneep]

[Chase and Jameson texting back and forth]

Chase: I’m glad you finally got into the digital age and let me buy you a smartphone! 

Chase: How are you liking it?

Chase: JJ?

Chase: Jem?

Chase: Helloooo? J2?

Chase: Jays? Jameson?? Why aren’t you answering???

Jameson: Howdoyouputaspace

[septic-dr-schneep]

Would JJ and Chase ever switch roles when it comes to who takes care of who? Like for example, Chase has been working overtime so when they both finally have time to hang out, Chase falls asleep hugging JJ or smth, and JJ has to be in charge of actually putting Chase in bed 'w'

Welp, they have now! :D Let’s see how well Jamie handles it!

JSE Fanfiction - Steeping Senses

It hadn’tescaped Jameson’s notice that Chase was working much longer hours than usual.His workday generally consisted of filming stunts for the morning and thenspending the rest of his time at the office, editing with his crew. Sometimesthe time for the stunt work ranged anywhere from five to seven hours, but aftertaking a break this past week for a particularly bad depressive spell, thevlogger was doing his best to catch up with his schedule and bring his viewers twice the amount of content to make upfor his absence.

“You mustget back into swing gradually,Chase!” Schneep warned sternly at breakfast. “It does not make sense to strain andexhaust yourself as soon as you’re back on your feet!”

Chase hadsimply offered him a rueful smile in return. “If I’m back on my feet, what elseam I s’posed to be doing but making up for the time I wasn’t?” he’d questioned.Schneep had been too startled by the question to offer a response before Chase glancedat his watch and leapt up from the breakfast table. “Speaking of which, I’mgonna be late. Yesterday’s footage should be ready to upload today. See if youcan watch ’em at some point and give me feedback, okay?”

Schneepseemed reluctant to do so, but Jameson was more than willing. He did watch them as they were uploaded andfrankly…they concerned him a little. He had taken part in a few Bro Averagevideos himself; he knew how Chase acted when he was filming—rather, he knew howhe was supposed to act. Did Chase realize how much of his usual drive and vigorwere missing?

Jamesonknew for certain that it wasn’t in his imagination when he checked the commentssection.

“Is it just me or does Chase look reallytired?”

“He seems like he’s doing a lot reallyfast…”

“Hey mate, it’s ok that you took abreak. We will wait for you!”

“If you ever need, or even just want abreak, you don't need our permission. You're still human, dude.”

When Chasegot home that evening, uncharacteristically quiet and scrubbing at his eyes,Jameson asked him if he was feeling alright.

“Yeah,buddy, I’m fine,” he answered immediately, almost absentmindedly, as he fishedaround in the kitchen cupboards for his favorite coffee mug. “S’just been along day.”

“Perhaps you should turn in,” Jameson suggested cautiously, hopinghis apprehension wasn’t too transparent.Chase didn’t seem to notice it.

“Nope, can’t.Stanley said when I left that once I’d had some dinner he wanted to get on aconference call with me so we can discuss what we’re doing this weekend.” Afterhe set up the coffee pot, Chase leaned against the counter to wait for it, hisjaw working in a certain fashion that Jameson expected was to stifle a yawn. “LikeI said, Jays, I’m fine.”

Coming outof his chair, Jameson shuffled closer, leaning past Chase’s arm and pointedlyflipping the switch—the one Chase had taught him would actually turn the coffeepot on. Chase seemed surprised for amoment at his obvious oversight but he offered no comment as the coffeegrumbled. Jameson stayed with him, resisting the urge to wring his hands. Thisought to be the time when Chase asked him about his day or told him an amusingstory about a member of the camera crew, but instead they just…stood insilence.

When thecoffee finished, Chase visibly bolstered himself, giving Jameson a tired smileas he took the mug from the counter—and the pot. As he started out of the room,Jameson blinked in disbelief, stepping forward enough to take ahold of hisshoulder.

“Wait! Aren’t you—shouldn’t you behaving a proper meal with that?” he questioned uncertainly.

“Ehh, I’mnot really hungry. Just coffee’s fine,” Chase shrugged it off. “I’ll be in thecomputer room. Don’t wait up if you’re tired, okay? G’night.”

“Good…night…” Jameson murmured, not bothering toproject his speech slide far enough for Chase to see as he left.

In the end,Jameson obediently went to bed. He didn’t wait up for Chase, but he did wake upthe moment he felt the bedsprings creak. Jameson kept his eyes closed despiteit, holding very still and listening intently for the sigh of relief at beinghorizontal at last. It didn’t come. After three minutes or so, JJ riskedlooking over his shoulder and found the other already asleep. He was like acandle, blown out as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The nextmorning was uncannily similar to the one before, as was the evening. It happenedagain the day after that and the day after that. The longer it went on, themore Jameson hated it and when he summoned his courage, he told Chase as much,but all he got was a regretful tousle to his hair.

“I’m sorry,Jem. I miss you during the day too,” he admitted. “Hey, text me aroundlunchtime, okay? I’ll try to say hi.”

Jameson didtext him, but he never answered. He must have forgotten.

Nightsprogressively got harder to bear—not just because he found it hard to wait forhim but because it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay with him. Jameson always had a fully furnished room of his ownto turn to, but he knew his da wanted and needed him there. It was most likelya side effect of losing his marriage, but Chase naturally slept better when hehad some company at night.

When he waswarm and had someone to hold, he’d explained, he was calmed. He could lie stilland sleep without any interruptions. Lately, however, to Jameson’s dismay, thatdidn’t seem to be the case. With increasing frequency the gentleman foundhimself jostled awake when a stray elbow ended up lodged in his back or theirfeet got tangled up. Chase tossed and turned much more than he used to.

Thismorning, he didn’t even take the time to finish his breakfast, wrapping whatwas left of his pop-tart in a napkin and jamming it in his back pocket.

“You’re notstaying?” Jackieboy didn’t seem particularly surprised, but Chase didn’t seemto notice how troubled the hero’s eyes were as they tracked his progress.

“I can’t stay,” Chase said shortly, barelyglancing at him as he slapped his cap on his head and heaved a backpack ofsupplies onto his shoulder, stumbling a little under its weight before headjusted. “I don’t know when I’m gonna be back; I’ll see you later.”

As soon asthe front door closed behind him, Jackieboy exhaled slowly, shaking his head.Schneep was already drumming his fingers against the edge of his coffee mug andMarvin was practically vibrating with tension.

“I’m worried for him,” Jameson blurted out.

“We allare,” Jackie assured him grimly.

“It’s beenmore than this last week now,” Schneep huffed, taking a resigned sip of thelittle coffee Chase had left in the pot. “He is not like Jackie and I, he isnot like Jack, he doesn’t cope with late night work—not well, at least.”

“I’m a right testament to that,” Jameson agreed, gingerly rubbing thesore shoulder that had received a particularly harsh elbow last night. “But…bebother it, what can we do toconvince him to stop?”

“I’ll holdhim down for a nap if I have to,” Marvin muttered agitatedly. “If he keepsdoing this, he’ll just end up right back in his slump, and trashing himselflike this is gonna make it a lot harderto get back out.”

Those wordsgnawed at Jameson for hours on end; the worry was all-encompassing. He couldbarely focus on his own daily activities. He didn’t want to see him fall, notagain, not so soon. When Chase had a run of his better days, he was one of thehappiest, most upbeat and enthusiastic people Jameson knew. He loved life. Watching him when he wasbedridden, never speaking, barely eating…it was like looking at an entirelydifferent person, a numb, hopeless little thing that had been torn from Chase’sbody like Peter Pan’s shadow.

The shadowsunder Chase’s eyes were disconcertingly deep now, Jameson noted, swallowinghard and tightening the fold of his hands as he waited. Chase didn’t seem tonotice he was there at first, nearly jumping out of his skin when he finallydid see him at the dining table.

“Whoa! Jem!”Cursing under his breath, he pressed a hand against his chest, taking asteadying breath as he swayed back. “What’re you doing up? You should be in bedby now, right?”

“I wanted to stay up for you,” Jameson answered, trying for a smilebefore allowing for a pause. “Oh, butwhat time is it?”

As he madea show of patting himself down, looking for his pocket watch, he peeked up atChase every so often, his chest tightening. The older Ego had stopped payingattention to him already, tossing his backpack aside and trudging toward thekitchen cabinet. He was probably going to get more of that blasted coffee.

“Good golly! It’s far later than Ithought!” heexclaimed, projecting his speech slide in front of the cabinet doors. “Now that you’re home, perhaps we should both retire!”

“I can’t,”Chase brushed that off predictably. Jameson was starting to hate those twowords. “Something went wrong with the file on today’s third video; I need towrangle that into shape after I’ve had some dinner.”

Jamesonhadn’t seen him actually sit down and eat a full night meal for a few days now.He was distracted from bringing that up, however, as he happened to glance downand spot the edge of the napkin peeking out of Chase’s pocket. Astonished, he rose,crossing the distance in three long strides to snatch at it, causing the olderEgo to lurch away.  

“Hey, what’reyou—?”

“After you’ve had supper?” Jameson echoed incredulously, wavingthe folded napkin and its mashed, crumbling contents. “Why, you’ve still got your breakfastto eat! Did you have sustenance of anysort today?”

“Well,yeah. There was half a donut on the counter at the office,” Chase protested.

“Do you recall picking it up and eatingit?” Jamesonpersisted, tossing the mess onto the counter and planting his hands on his hipsexpectantly. Chase’s hesitation went on for a few seconds too long. Eyesnarrowing, Jameson closed the rest of the distance, interlacing his arm withChase’s and marching toward the couch. “Plantyourself here right this instant, sir! You’re taking a night off and that’sthat!”

Groaning,Chase pulled against his grip, making all the same objections he had theprevious several nights. “You don’t understand, Jem. I’ve got another conferencecall I need to make. All I need is a little coffee and I’ll be set. You shouldn’ttry to stay up when all I’m gonna be doing is work—”

“I’m not staying up for my sake, Chase! It’snot because I miss you or I’m sad I don’t get to see you; I’m worried! Why do you think I’m enforcingthis?” Jamesonsnapped. “The only reason you’ve stoppeddashing about like a madman for the past few days is because you’re tooexhausted to dash! Now you’re stumblingabout like a—a—” He couldn’t find a proper metaphor, steering Chase ontothe couch and then planting himself next to him, wordlessly simmering.

“Jameson,”Chase began slowly—and he’d used his full name, which meant he was finally paying full attention to him—“AllI want is to make up for lost time.”

“You’ve done more than enough. It’s a sorry excuse for battering yourself likethis for more than a week,” theyounger Ego shot back with a glower.

“Okay, then,”Chase conceded, his voice falling lower. “I want to make up for the time all ofyou had to spend taking care of me.”

“Well, think of it this way: we’ll haveto take care of you quite a while longer if you bring yourself to harm byoverworking!”

Chase didn’tanswer right away; it seemed as if it was taking him a while to process thewords. “I just…need to jump back into things when I come out of one of mydowns,” he muttered restively, looking anywhere but at his companion. “Or I’llstart thinking about things…how muchworse I make things for all of you by having these bad days…Hating myself for ’emmore than I already do.”

“…Da.”

“Yeah?”

Sliding hislegs up onto the couch in front of him, Jameson leaned, wrapping his armstightly around Chase’s chest and curling close to him. “The only way you could possibly worsen anything for me is by punishing yourself.”

Now that hewas looking at him this closely, Jameson could really see the exhaustion—the stress creases and the stray stubble andthe glaze in his eyes that didn’t belong. It created an ache in his chest that encouragedhim to tighten his grip, his fingers digging into Chase’s ribs in an attempt toforce him closer.

After afull minute, Chase relented, relaxing into his hold and heaving a breath thatruffled Jameson’s hair before looping his nearer arm around his back. Takingthat as progress, Jameson weighed further into him, getting comfortable, andChase huffed softly.

“Are yousure you didn’t miss me?”

“Are you sure you didn’t miss me more?”

“Yeah, Idid…” Despite the several cups of coffee he’d downed during the day, Chasecould feel another yawn lurking. He didn’t bother stifling it this time, blinkingtiredly as he pressed his cheek against the curve of his boy’s shoulder. Hishead didn’t want to stay upright anymore. “S’being all cuddly part of your plant’make sure I take the night off?”

“Yes.”

“Gotcha…”

There wasno need to elaborate on the rest of the plan; it was already in motion. Chase’seyes were flickering closed, his breaths evening out startlingly fast, andJameson stilled, waiting until the arm around his back slid limply down againstthe cushions.

Fortyseconds. All it had taken was forty seconds without pushing himself to keepgoing. Reaching back, Jameson took ahold of his fallen hand, maneuvering itaround his neck and tightening the grip he had around his waist. The fact thatChase wasn’t holding his own weight as Jameson pulled on him made standing astruggle; he was a little surprised that he didn’t jolt awake again as soon asJameson readjusted his grip, but it was a testament to just how exhausted hewas.

After aprecarious, wobbling journey down the dim hallway, Chase’s bed was a more thanwelcome sight. Jameson let Chase’s arm fall from his shoulders, hugging himcarefully around the chest until he could steer him down properly. From there thegentleman began working on untying his boots. Chase did stir somewhat then,twisting onto his side and allowing his hand to fall into the empty spacebeside him, as if he’d expected something to be there.

“I’m coming,” Jameson assured him kindly, though heknew he wasn’t heard.

As soon ashe’d pried his boots off and set them aside, he didn’t hesitate to burrowunderneath the covers and fill the space, allowing the other to shift his armhowever he cared to in his sleep. Sure enough, Chase’s fingers automaticallyfound the back of his nightshirt, curling loosely into it to keep him where hewas. As he leaned into the touch, Jameson stilled, straining his ears. He hadto hear it. None of this would feel quite as right as it ought to without it.

After a fewmore seconds, he could feel the last of the tension drain from Chase’s body inthe deep, drowsy sigh he’d been waiting for. Relief. Comfort. Jameson wasallowed his own breath of relief because of it, nestling close against him sothe steady, warm thump of his heart could lull him down slowly.  

He had a delightfullycontented feeling that they would be sleeping in tomorrow morning.

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - Self-Correction

Summary: Jameson takes a fall and ends up with a fairly nasty bruise because of it. Given that the others didn’t witness it, he decides not to tell them and spare them the trouble of fussing. It’s nothing to worry about, right?

It has to look worse than it truly is, Jameson mused worriedly, biting his lower lip as he slid a hand under his shirt and gingerly traced the large, tender bruise curving over his side. When he lifted the satiny fabric of his nightshirt and peered at his skin in the mirror, he grimaced at the ugly purple shade it had become.

It had been nothing but a foolish accident on his part. He had been out exploring the city, as he often was when the other Egos were busy at work, and as he followed the flow of a busy street, he’d received a message from Chase, asking how he was doing. He’d stopped up short, trying to fish the phone out of his pocket, and a distracted businessman had slammed into him from behind at full force, bowling him over.

Startled by the impact, he had twisted to catch himself, landing on his side over the edge of the curb, and while the man had stopped to see if he was okay, Jameson could tell that he was in a hurry and had waved him off. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience and even though his side had been throbbing from the jarring spike of pain, he had been certain that he could walk it off. When the ache hadn’t lessened as he hobbled on home, he had assumed that he could sleep it off. He wasn’t expecting it to look quite so hideous the morning after.

Swallowing hard, he gritted his teeth as he wrangled the nightshirt off with the opposite arm, relieved that his dress shirt was a button-up instead of one he had to pull over his head. He could tuck it into his pants as well and the others wouldn’t think anything of it, so they wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of fussing over him. In his opinion, they fussed over him far too much as it was and there wasn’t anyone to take retribution from, so there wasn’t much they could do except fuss. Besides, they had more important things to think about.

As soon as he left his room, he took his best steadying breath and waved good morning to Chase and Marvin, who were sharing a hurried breakfast before they took off to their separate workplaces. It was easy enough to hold conversation with them without giving anything away as he started making his own breakfast, though he couldn’t resist stiffening and gripping the countertop for balance as Chase leapt up to leave and gave him a brief, tight hug that stole his breath away.

By the time the end of the week came, Jameson knew he was raising suspicion. Each time he checked on the bruising in his room or in the bathroom, it was still that awful purple-black shade that seemed to deepen instead of lessen. Perhaps he was imagining it because of the pain that surfaced every time he turned his body too far. He was moving too slowly, too stiffly, gingerly. Fortunately, none of the others were home to witness the times he collapsed into the shower to let the water soothe his aching, screaming body before spending hours on the couch, trying to lie as still as possible.

Even worse, while his tucked shirts served well to hide the damage from the others, he had been forced to avoid certain situations and activities that he normally would have enjoyed for fear of bumping it. He opted to drag in one of the kitchen chairs to watch television instead of sitting on the couch with the others and politely declined Jackieboy’s offers to fence with him, citing whatever possible excuse was available at the time.

Most significantly, he had opted to stay in his own room instead of Chase’s. Chase had been taken aback when Jameson had approached him, explaining about how the weather had changed and how sleeping apart would make the nights cooler for both of them.

“I just don’t want to discomfit you, Da,” he concluded, wringing his hands as if the concept truly worried him. It wasn’t entirely an act; he was incredibly worried that Chase would make a wrong move, twitching or turning in his sleep and sending a haphazard elbow into Jameson’s side. If he did, JJ wasn’t certain he would be able to resist falling out of bed.

“You and I have been totally fine for the past few weeks,” Chase protested, though he relented by the time Jameson began trying to pull up the weather report. “Well, I guess if it makes you more comfortable, that’s cool. Or at least you will be, right?”

Jameson couldn’t help but smile at the pun and Chase grinned in return, creating a tightness in his chest that was equal parts affection and guilt.

What did he have to be guilty for? He was just trying to keep him from worrying until it healed! Of course, that plan was all too easily at danger of being compromised by the older, more knowing Egos. Marvin had given him a plate to take to Dr. Schneeplestein since he was working in his lab for the night and despite his advice to hold it with both hands, Jameson had only used one, losing the utensils and a few baby tomatoes in the process. For that he had earned an “I told you so” look and merely ducked his head in return before slinking away.

The farther he got down the hall, the closer Schneeplestein and Jackieboy’s voices became.

“Something’s going on with him,” Jackieboy was saying, causing Jameson to pause. “Have you noticed him limping?”

“Somewhat, yes, before he corrects it,” the doctor agreed pensively. “I’ve been meaning to ask about it but the little one’s avoiding me. I do not like to pry at him. It could simply be the odd muscle pulled, you know.”

“And if it isn’t?” Jackieboy insisted.

Jameson opted not to listen to what Schneeplestein might do if it wasn’t, setting the plate outside the door and beating as hasty a retreat as he could without too much pain. He had to avoid those two tomorrow. Hopefully after another full day of their respective jobs, they would forget about being concerned.

It was just his misfortune, wasn’t it? The one day he had planned not to leave his bed for anything, praying that the bruise’s ache would fade over the hours of stillness, Chase had shaken him awake, asking him if he wanted to film a video for Bro Average with him.

“Okay, I know it’s the weekend, but I’ve gotta stock up on a couple since I’m watching Brianna and Connor on Monday,” he explained, his voice light and cheerful as it only was when he was looking forward to a day with his kids. “But my viewers have been asking for you since it’s been a while and I know how much fun we have filming them! You in?”

“I—I suppose, if only for a little while,” Jameson mustered after a moment or two. Chase’s smile waned ever so slightly at his lack of enthusiasm but it returned to its full strength so quickly that JJ wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.

“I guess I should’ve waited to ask till you’d woken up a little,” the older Ego commented with a laugh as he pushed himself back to his feet. “I’ll let you have breakfast and then we’ll get to it!”

It was the only place he couldn’t avoid him, Jameson agonized, breathing deeply and holding it as he eased onto his good side before sitting up. He just needed to be very, very careful.

Of course, his concentration on being careful wasn’t exactly good entertainment. By the time he dodged away from the target, ruining the third take and drawing exasperated sighs from the camera crew, Chase was starting to get the crease between his brows that he got when he was concerned, even when he was still hesitantly smiling.

“You feeling okay, Jem?” he questioned warily as he started picking up the stray beanbags. “You’re…I don’t know, a little skittish today.”

“I’m quite alright,” Jameson assured him, perhaps a little too quickly. “I just…I don’t want to be hit with any of those bags!”

“Well, that’s the point,” Chase reminded him. “This is ‘Don’t Hit the Human’; I’m trying not to hit you! If I hit you, I get points subtracted.” Lowering his voice, he promised, “Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna be extra careful with my aim. It’s not gonna hurt you.” When Jameson finally offered a tentative nod, Chase returned it encouragingly, lightly bopping foreheads with him before moving back to his previous placement across the room, calling out, “Okay, this should be the one, everybody! I’m feelin’ it!”

Trying to resist any urges to make up an excuse and run, Jameson stiffly strode back to the target, setting his back against the rough wood as his breathing quickened. Chase performed his intro yet again, somehow still maintaining that same cheer and enthusiasm before winding up and lobbing the beanbag at him. As fiercely as the gentleman had promised himself he wouldn’t dodge it, instinct overrode thought for the fourth time and he slid sideways. It was the wrong side to choose. When the bag struck his abdomen, the explosion of pain was worse than he could have imagined; where he had imagined a bat, impact was more like a bullet, taking him to the ground with a soundless, strangled cry, his vision going white.

“Jameson?!”

Chase’s alarmed call was barely audible behind the ringing in his ears as he curled into himself. Before he could try to force an answer that wouldn’t result in his exposure, Chase was immediately next to him, his voice close and shaky.

“What—what happened?” he stammered fearfully, hands hovering over him as if he was unsure where to intervene. “What is it? What hurts?”

All of the wind had been knocked out of him; he couldn’t do anything but shake his head, panting raggedly and trying to bring strength to his hands so he could bat Chase away as he started patting him for a wound. He was shaking off the paralysis from the agony; he couldn’t react fast enough, flinching as soon as Chase brushed his ribs, setting them on fire. Judging by the distress on Chase’s face, he’d noticed.

Was it really worth it now?

Tears burning the back of his eyes, Jameson decided to surrender, not bothering to struggle as Chase guided him onto his back and started tugging the hem of his shirt out of his slacks. The shocked slew of curses that followed overhead was more than enough to encourage Jameson to close his eyes so the tears wouldn’t spill.

Jameson finally risked looking up. He wasn’t sure who looked more disappointed, the doctor or Chase, but he knew whose disappointment he feared more. Hunching his shoulders, he did his best to meet Chase’s gaze regardless as he moved closer to the foot of his bed, pressing his lips tightly together as if he were trying to restrain something unseemly.

“How long?” he questioned shortly. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He couldn’t risk being caught in another lie. “…Five days. It was just a bruise, so I—”

“You bruised your spleen, Jameson! Do you know what could’ve happened?! You could’ve ruptured it! You could’ve gone into shock or had internal bleeding! You could’ve died in your sleep!” Chase snapped, throwing his hands up incredulously. “Oh, and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it, considering I would’ve been sleeping alone in the next room, thinking you wanted your space because of the heat, when you actually lied to me!”

“I didn’t believe it was—”

“Don’t,” Chase cut him off, a frightening growl in his voice that Jameson wasn’t used to receiving. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t think it was serious. You looked at that, you felt that for five days and you didn’t think it was serious? You expect me to believe that? No.”

Swallowing hard, Jameson let his gaze drift back to the sheets as Schneeplestein cleared his throat, regaining Chase’s attention long enough to list off what Jameson would need for a recovery—a good nine days under Schneep’s supervision, at the least, and then a more restrictive schedule that allowed him more time in bed than out. After Schneep promised to break the news to the others, he made his exit, leaving the two of them in suffocating silence.

“I’m…sorry,” Jameson whispered at last, his speech slide only flickering long enough for Chase to read it before it died out.

Twisting the brim of his hat to the back of his head, Chase sighed tersely, giving him a sideways glance before skirting around the foot of the bed. JJ kept his eyes averted as he approached, only peeking up at him when he perched on the mattress next to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, only slightly steadier. 

“I heard you.” Chase’s voice didn’t hold the same edge it had a few minutes ago, but the emotion had replaced it was almost worse. Shaking his head despairingly, he pleaded, “You could’ve died, Jem. Died. I could’ve come into your room and found you—” He broke off abruptly, glancing down long enough to cover Jameson’s hand with his own. “We were supposed to be friends long before we were father and son. How am I supposed to be either if you’re covering things up and lyin’ to me?”

Panic punched him in the chest at that, followed by heartbreak. “Are you—?” A desperate sob tore through his words, his speech slide faltering and then winking out of existence. He couldn’t bring himself to finish that question. Even so, he already knew the answer: Chase wasn’t going to trust him again. He was going to disown him, leave him in favor of family he could trust. His real children would never lie to him, he was certain.

This was it. He’d finally held back on too much and he’d driven him away. Biting back another shuddery sob, he made it easier for him, sliding his hand away and tucking it under the sheets before Chase could withdraw his own. Chase didn’t pursue it.

“Look at me,” he said softly, to which Jameson violently shook his head. He couldn’t bear to.

Chase’s hand was warm as it reached his face, cupping his chin and guiding his head up so they could lock eyes.

“You’re still trying to find your place here, Jem,” he reminded him, gentle but solemn. “If you don’t want to feel alone, you need to start trusting me with things like this.”

The bedsprings creaked then as he leaned forward, curving his forearm around the back of Jameson’s neck to guide him into a hug. Uncertain but more than willing, Jameson leaned into it, curling his hands into Chase’s shirt and breathing in his familiar scent.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the older Ego’s voice vibrated around him, sad but warm. “I just want you to stay that way.”

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - Hit The Deck

Summary: Jameson can’t swim. Unfortunately no one ever thought to ask about that before sending him into the deep end.

Everything had happened too fast for him to react. One minute he was standing on the deck, watching with unease as swimmers across the pool performed their kicks and turns and dives, and the next someone had thought it would be funny to scoop him up and toss him into the water. He hit the surface with a painful splat and whoever it was had been laughing, saying something about winning a bet with his nearby friends. They hadn’t stayed long enough to watch him start drowning.

Down here, the water was darker than Jameson had expected it would be; evening had already been falling when Marvin and Chase brought him here and now he was lost, floundering in water that pulled on him, dragging against every thrashing attempt he made to find the surface.

He’d learned in the life he’d been given that screaming was just as natural as breathing and right now, he couldn’t do either but he tried nonetheless, precious bubbles of air abandoning him as water rushed in to take their place. Chemicals that weren’t meant to be there found their way in, tangy and harsh in his throat and lungs, but no matter how he spluttered, there was only more and more.

With a wrenching heave, he managed to break the surface once but he only had half a second to draw a breath before the perilous depths sucked him back in and he only sank faster, panic hammering in his chest as it concaved in over his scorched lungs. No one was watching, no one was there to see him fighting the enemy that could slip right through his hands.

His fight was waning, the fire consuming him until every nerve was ablaze. Every way he turned, up or down, left or right, the agony grew stronger and stronger until it finally paralyzed him. No matter how his screaming brain commanded his body to move, it refused, his taut, straining muscles falling limp until he couldn’t give any more than feeble kicks and twitches that sent him in circles, like a clockwork doll running low on power.

Bubbles swirled around him in a dizzying spiral, tauntingly dancing away toward the light that dappled somewhere overhead. His eyes strained, blurring, refocusing and blurring again. That light was close, so close that he could have almost touched it if his hands would obey, but he was so…so tired…Darkness swelled up from the deep to join him, its coming so gentle that he didn’t even realize it was there until it rolled in and coaxed his eyes closed.

“Where’s Jem?”

It was the first question every single time, the first to form in Chase’s mind and on his lips, the first to give his eyes a mission as he scanned the large pool, darting from face to face to face and seeing no one. The crowd had somewhat dispersed since evening fell but he still couldn’t see any sign of him.

Breathe! Breathe! Please, you’ve gotta breathe! I’m gonna make you—Please!

Why wasn’t I watching? Why didn’t I ever ask if he could swim?! Why? Why, why, why, why—?

Don’t give up, do you hear me?! Don’t you dare give up!

Everything Schneep had taught him was swirling around like a hurricane in his mind—medical facts and techniques and advice that didn’t matter right now. He couldn’t afford to let himself think; if he took that time to think, he’d falter and he’d lose him. He couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t, not now, not ever— not like this—

How long had it been before he’d spotted the bubbles and the familiar black hat floating upside down near the diving board? How long had it taken him to plunge into the water and wrap his arms around Jameson’s still, unbreathing chest, heaving him onto the deck? How long had it been before his screams had sent Marvin and the rookie lifeguard into their scramble to get help? Right now he couldn’t tally up the time; the only seconds he counted were those between compressions.

Don’t think. Don’t think. The sickly strong amount of chlorine stung all of Chase’s senses and Jameson’s skin was clammy as he continued the endless cycle, never allowing himself a moment to linger. He couldn’t think about how the water made his hands slip as he tilted his head back or how Jameson’s lips were tinged pale blue as he pressed his own against them, forcing air down his throat. His vision was nothing but a blur of stars and colors from his own lack of oxygen and his mind had finally brought it back to basics: Dark blue vest, push, pale blue lips, breathe.

A wet, hoarse sob broke his rhythm eventually as he pressed down on his chest too hard; he was certain something in there would break, but it was nothing compared to what was breaking in him.

“Breathe!” he begged, his voice little more than a thin wheeze as he bent down and emptied the rest of his pleas into him, pool water and the salt in the older Ego’s tears mingling on the younger’s still, pasty features.

He had no opportunity to sit up and find the dark blue for the next push; Jameson reacted, painfully smacking heads with him as he bucked and arched off the deck, choking on the water coming back up. Chase all but threw him onto his side, gripping his shoulder with trembling hands as he spluttered and retched, a terrifying amount of water pooling on the deck beside him.

As soon as the vlogger heard him draw in a sticky, garbled gasp of air, his body knew that his work was done. All adrenaline left him in a nauseating swoop and he couldn’t stay upright any longer, slumping onto his back in the growing puddle and finding himself completely unable to care that Jameson was spitting water into his ear.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jameson used what tiny sliver of strength he had to plaster himself against Chase’s side, with no regard to the shivering that would shake the both of them or the sopping wet clothing suctioning to each other’s skin.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Chase rasped thickly, lifting a heavy hand to comb through the younger Ego’s tangled, dripping hair and then carefully trace his neck, searching. The sensation of his shallow, racing pulse under his fingers was enough to bring the tears back to his eyes, but the weak words that appeared for him to see were what made the tears spill over.

“I’m sorry, Da…”

His speech slide was twitching and flickering and fading, barely visible, and when Chase glanced down at him with faint surprise, he was already out cold again. When he woke, he probably wouldn’t remember saying it.

That was okay. Chase let the words settle deep and close in his mind, staring up at the evening sky. Under the cover of the approaching sirens, he whispered.

“It’s not your fault, son. I should’ve been watching.”

[septic-dr-schneep]

Chase, post-divorce: This is it. I’m depressed, I’m alcoholic, I’m alone...I’m not gonna feel love or affection for anyone again.

Jameson: [exists]

Chase: I’M NOT DEAD YET

[septic-dr-schneep]

I felt an unholy urge to draw this after those few asks

My literal first reaction:

This is beautiful and I will treasure it, thank you so much XD

Also “trash goblin” is probably Chase’s prime insult

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - By Any Other Name

Summary: Jameson has called Chase his father twice before, but not under the best of circumstances, not when the time was right. A slip of the tongue at the dinner table brings the tally up to three, but maybe this one can end better than the last two.

He had heard it twice before. Jameson had called him his father twice before and while both of them were equally precious to him, neither were in the context he had subconsciously hoped for.

The first had been with his Father’s Day gift, the beautiful silver watch that Jameson had either made or bought for him; Chase had never asked which. It was engraved, the first line being “For the finest friend and father.” It had brought the warmest of tears to his eyes, his heart burning in his chest with the kind of love that he had never felt for anyone but Connor and Brianna. Even so, he had only opened the gift when he was alone, waking up from an intoxicated sleep. Jameson hadn’t gotten to see him read it.

The second had been after he saved Jameson’s life. It turned out that because he hadn’t been around as long as the others, he had no way of knowing how to swim. When Chase found him unconscious in the deep end of the pool, he launched into action without a thought. If Jameson had died, he would have too; he had felt that for certain. By the time Jem came back, he’d been without air for too long. He’d been delirious, curling up against Chase on the deck. He’d thanked him, called him his dad without realizing, and when he’d woken in the hospital he’d completely forgotten. Chase wasn’t about to remind him; he had to focus on his recovery.

Chase was well aware that Jameson thought of him as a father, just as Chase thought of him as a son. He’d told Jameson that to his face. “You’re my son now.” The amazement and joy in Jameson’s face had been everything Chase had hoped for, but he wanted Jameson to be comfortable with it. If he was honest, he would be more than happy if Jameson stopped calling him by his name altogether.

Jameson, however, didn’t seem to realize it. He seemed quite determined to call him every possible nickname except the one he wanted and over time, Chase had to convince himself not to hold him to such standards. There was an understanding between them and that was enough. He didn’t need to have anyone call him by the title to hold it.

Since the business with Jack’s coma had started, however, Stacy had been letting him see the kids less and less. She could sense that something was terribly wrong in their household, despite the facades they put up in their everyday lives, and she didn’t want Brianna and Connor anywhere near it. Honestly, Chase couldn’t blame her.

That meant that it had been a long time since he’d heard it—a long time. He couldn’t bring himself to tally up the months; if he bothered, it would just open up the fissure in his chest that he had worked very hard to sew closed. Therefore he deliberately, methodically worked to keep the longing for it centered in the back of his mind with the door shut. All he could do was enjoy whatever Jameson felt comfortable with giving him and give everything he had in return.

Today had been an incredibly busy day; he’d spent it filming three new stunt videos so he could stock up and they could be coming out on Bro Average even while he was filling in on Jack’s channel and when they’d come to the very last of the videos, he had made the decision to bring Jameson back on. It was the first time he had since the concussion incident and as soon as Chase got around to asking Jameson if he would be willing to try something new again, the youngest Ego had been ecstatic. They needed to make new memories together and it was the perfect opportunity. Everything went off without a hitch and now that they were back at home with the others, Jameson couldn’t stop talking about it. Given that he was the only one in the group who could physically talk with his mouth full, he dominated the conversation.

“I was able to have my first crack at using those firearm contraptions that Chase works with, the ones with the soft ammunition, and after having a few rounds with it I was able to make the farthest shot!” Judging by how fast he was talking, he was just a little excited; his speech slides were practically dancing in midair, drawing broad grins from the others.

“Not even Chase has managed that very often!” Jackieboy reminded him after swallowing his spaghetti, to which Jameson nodded eagerly.

“I’ve never been one for firearms, as you know, but eventually Chase convinced me and it was exhilarating! I do hope I’ll be able to practice with them more often!”

“It would probably come in handy sometime,” Marvin commented offhandedly as he lifted his drink, earning a small warning tap with Schneep’s elbow as the doctor leaned across the table to pat Jameson’s hand.

“We’re all quite proud of you, Jamie,” he assured him affectionately. “Chase most of all, I expect!”

“Of course!” Chase agreed fervently. “I knew he was ready for it—but even if he hadn’t been, I’m always proud of him!”

Squirming shyly at that, Jameson hunched his shoulders, twirling his fork through his meal as his smile softened. “Thank you, Da.”

Marvin choked on the sip of water he was taking, Schneep reeled back in his chair and Jackieboy automatically clamped his hands to his armrests as if to steady himself through a tremor.

As soon as he rechecked his words, Jameson stiffened, the speech slide fading gradually out of sight and draining all the color from his face with it. Clearly he was just as taken aback by it as they were, if not more so. Chase, meanwhile, simply stared at him, his mouth hovering somewhere between a fallen jaw and a trembling smile as all the emotion behind the door in the back of his mind slid through the crack underneath, lodging in his throat as it poured into his chest.

“Jem—” he began, unsure of exactly what he would say, but Jameson’s fork clattered against the plate with a strident clang, interrupting him as the gentleman lunged to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process.

“Oh, look at this—look at the mess I’ve made of my t-trousers,” he hurried to exclaim, looking a little sick. “A full d-day of gallivanting about will do that, I need to go and change s-so if you’ll—if you’ll pardon me—”

“Jamie?” Schneep called worriedly after him, only spurring him on as he all but sprinted down the hall.

Cursing softly, Chase promptly threw his napkin onto the table and scrambled to follow, flinching a little as he heard Jameson’s door slam with more force than was probably intended. He did manage to jostle it back open and maneuver inside before it could be locked, though, forcing Jameson to back up and bury his face in his hands.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no—” he moaned, shaking his head violently as his ears turned scarlet.

“Jem, what’s the problem?” Chase demanded directly as he nudged the door shut behind him. “Why’d you run out like that?”

“I called you my da! Oh, heavens, I can’t believe I—I—I didn’t mean to!”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Chase countered. “I’ve told you I consider you a son, remember? You didn’t mind then! What’s so wrong about you callin’ me your dad?!”

“Well, it’s a childish name!” Jameson burst out, flinging his hands to his sides so Chase could see the humiliation, shame and dismay in his face. “I’m not a little britches! I’m meant to—to act with some measure of discretion and decorum! I should have been watching my tongue, it just—it just slipped out! Mercies, what will the others think?!”

“What does it matter what they think? This is something between the two of us,” the older Ego protested.

“Yes, it was meant to be! I never meant to call you that in front of them!” Shoulders slumping, Jameson stared at him, the picture of despair. “They’re so—they’re all so well-renowned and respected, Chase. Jackieboy Man is the city’s hero; they adore him. Marvin has crowds that are in awe of him, who throw flowers quite literally at his feet. Dr. Schneeplestein is one of the best surgeons this side of—anywhere! Patients beg for his treatment.”

“Okay…?” Chase prompted, unsure of where this was going.

Sighing deeply, Jameson lowered his gaze to the floor, his speech slide wavering shamefully as he continued. “They’re the very picture of upstanding, respectable men. I—I admire them greatly, more than I could ever say. How can they possibly consider treating me with the same respect when they think of me as a child? Jackieboy ruffles my hair like a six-year-old boy. Marvin thinks I can’t fend for myself. Dr. Schneeplestein still refers to me as ‘the little one’. And now I compound that way of thinking by calling you my Da.” Swallowing hard, he only glanced up at Chase for a moment before bowing his head even farther. “And even if it was unintended, I-I meant it quite genuinely. So perhaps I am as childish as they suppose.”

“Jem, listen to me,” Chase ordered, closing the distance and latching onto his shoulders before he could recoil further. “You should look up to them, okay? You should! But that doesn’t mean you should try to change who you are or watch what you say around them because of what they might think! I’ve known them a lot longer than you have and I know how they act when they don’t respect someone. That back there? You just surprised them! They were probably more surprised by the way you reacted than by the fact that you said it!”

Jameson still didn’t look up, fidgeting between his hands, and Chase gave his arms a firmer squeeze as he lowered his voice. “Jameson. Jackieboy ruffles my hair all the time. He does it to everyone; he does it to Jack himself. Marvin thinks we could all be better trained; it’s just because he worries. It’s to reassure himself that we’re gonna be safe, not to put you down. And Schneep, sometimes he just gets sick of English and of needing to check his pronunciation of our names. He still stumbles over pronouncing ‘Jackieboy’, so he calls him ‘Jackie’ or ‘the hero’. And you wanna know why he calls you ‘the little one’? Hmm? It’s because that’s what he used to call me, and he knows I think of you as my son.”

Mustache twitching uncertainly, Jameson peeked up at him, and it struck Chase then that Jameson was young—for all of his propriety and tradition, he was startlingly young, a mere nine months old in the community’s time. The vlogger did his best to mask his sudden surge of protectiveness at the realization, though if the hug he pulled Jameson into was tighter than usual, JJ would probably put it down to the emotion behind their conversation.

“You say exactly what you need to say,” he murmured. “If they disagree, believe me, they will give you the respect of pulling you aside and telling you.” He waited then, hoping against hope that everything he had said would get through to him. After what felt like centuries, Jameson’s arms lifted and he hugged him back. Breathing a sigh of relief, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn’t betray the catch in his throat, he concluded, “And I…y’know, calling me that…That’s all I’ve wanted to hear you say.”

Jameson’s hands tightened on his back then and Chase felt what tension remained in him slowly bleed away. He could feel the heat in Jameson’s face return as he tucked it more firmly into his shoulder, his speech slide hovering tentatively behind him.

“…Thank you, Da…Is that—is that the form of ‘Father’ you prefer? Do you want to be called something else?”

Because Jameson couldn’t see his face, the older Ego felt free to let the tears prick his eyes as he laughed, his tone tender. “Any of them. I’ll answer to any of them.”

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - For All It’s Worth

Summary: Chase prepares to spend Father’s Day alone in his room with a bottle, as he always does, but this year his plans turn out just a little different...They change for the better.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but every single year he was away from them and Father’s Day came around, he couldn’t resist obsessively checking his phone for messages or voicemails and walking down to the mailbox every few hours to see if there was any news from them. It was the worst of agonies, but he put himself through it without fail and without regret. All he regretted was everything that had happened between him and their mother. If he had just managed to keep everything together, he would be with them today.

Instead, after he’d finally given up on the mailbox, he took himself to bed and limited his company to a bottle of wine. His whiskey was meant for depressing weekdays, not depressing holidays. At the very least I can have a little class with my alcoholism, he mused humorlessly, emptying his third glass and refilling it just as quickly.

Wine made a different sound as it splashed into the glass, one that grated on his nerves, and yet he didn’t get up. He knew if she were here, Stacy would probably say he was just too lazy to get what he wanted or needed, but he wasn’t going to deny it. His mouth felt sore and dry from drinking too much too quickly and he could feel the telltale buzz swirling around in his head like a cloud of insects.

Sometimes wine could make him drowsy; maybe if he was lucky, he would nod off and sleep his way through a few hours so he wouldn’t have to endure so many more of them. The more unaware he was of the passage of time, the better.

With another long sip of the wine that was probably staining his mouth red, he fumbled for his phone, poking and prodding until he could finally access his voicemails and scroll through the archive. A smile almost managed to emerge as he found one of his favorites, but it fell through in favor of a deep sigh as he closed his eyes and listened. This had been over the Saint Paddy’s Day weekend three years ago.

“Hi, Daddy! We just wanted to let you know that we’re having lots and lots of fun at Auntie Sarah’s house!” the six-year-old Brianna exclaimed. “And you’ll never guess what happened! We got a visit from the leprechaun here too! Connor didn’t think he’d find us since we’re not at home, but he did!”

With a clatter and some muffled chatter, four-year-old Connor was able to snatch the phone away, interjecting, “He gave us lots and lots of chocolate money! They’re really yummy, the best ever!”

“Connor’s been eating way more of them than I have! He took some of mine,” Brianna pouted, though her sulking didn’t last long. “So we’re going to get ice cream with Mama and Auntie Sarah later! I’m definitely getting strawberry and—Connor, what are you getting? Connor’s getting cookie dough!”

The present-day Chase laughed softly, the sound catching in his throat as the kids rambled on about how they would spend their day, seeming to forget that this had just been a call to say hello. They carried on a conversation as if Chase had actually been on the other side, answering them and encouraging them to tell him more. By the time they managed to tell him that they loved him and gave their goodbyes, he was half-laughing and half-sobbing. When it ended, he shook his head and set the phone down on the nearby table with a clatter, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes to rid them of the tears were pooling hotly on his lashes.

As soon as he lowered his hands, he jumped, startled by the appearance of Jameson on the other side of the room. “Oh—Oh, h-hey,” he mustered, clearing his throat a few times in a poor attempt to rid his voice of its tipsy, emotional slur. “Hey, Jameson. What’re you doin’ here?”

For a long, long moment, Jameson simply stared at him, seeming unsure what to make of his current condition or of the wine bottle that was mostly empty. Chase huffed, making a vague, sloppy gesture at it.

“Jus’ celebratin’ in my own way,” he murmured with a wan half-smile. “What can y’do?” After a pause, his eyes drifted lower to the box clutched tightly in Jameson’s hands. “What’s that?”

“It…” Jameson’s speech slide trailed off as quickly as it had surfaced and he shrugged instinctively as he moved forward, sliding it onto the bedside table and deciding, “It’s nothing. What’s more important is how you’re feeling.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m fine.”

Jameson’s mustache twitched disapprovingly in response as he perched on the edge of the bed, scooting up so his side was bumping Chase’s knee. “I don’t feel that was a completely honest answer, my fine fellow.”

“No, really, I’m…fine. I just…Y’know.” The vlogger made another vague gesture, hoping that Jameson would just fill in the blanks. He could feel his throat starting to hitch again; he didn’t want to spell it all out, so he kept it simple, his voice falling to a whisper. “I just miss ’em.”

At that, Jameson wasted no time leaning in and wrapping his arms around his neck in a warm hug. Chase remained completely still for a solid ten seconds and then exhaled shakily, curling his arms around Jameson’s back in return. He was squeezing him tighter than he probably should, but his resolve and control had been broken down by the wine and this stupid, excruciating holiday.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling, groggy and unsure of when exactly he’d fallen asleep. Jameson was gone and the slits of light peeking through the shade were considerably dimmer. It seemed he had slept through a decent amount of the day. As he propped himself up on his elbows, he peered around in utter bewilderment, noting that the bottle and glass had disappeared from his bedside table. All that remained was the neat little box Jameson had wrapped in navy blue paper. After scrubbing a hand over his face to clear his eyes of sleep, he reached for it.

It was heavier than he’d expected for such a small case, but the paper was sleek, shiny and smooth. Chase recalled briefly mentioning on his birthday that he was fond of that kind of paper; had Jameson really remembered that during all the pandemonium of the past few months? Gratitude curled in his chest at the thought and he did his best not to crumple or rip too much of it.

It was a watch, much like the one Jameson always had tucked into his vest, Chase realized, tsking softly in amazement as he pulled it out and ran his thumb over the silver chrome. Because he was still shaking off the nap, it took him a few moments to realize that it was engraved:

For the finest friend and father,

Who saw a Jem in the rough and took time for me.

You have all my love, for everything it’s worth.

It was too late to stop the surge of tears now, Chase realized belatedly, not even bothering to wipe at them as they raced down his cheeks.

It was worth more than Jameson knew.

[septic-dr-schneep]

Hello, yes, someone help? Jameson’s smile makes me cry of happiness? 

Buuut anyway, have a Chase + Jameson aesthetic! These two have an adorable and precious father/son relationship and you will never convince me otherwise! 

[septic-dr-schneep]

[Jameson and Chase texting back and forth]

Jameson: Chase...I’m absolutely ashamed of myself for this but I feel I need to tell you the truth.

Chase: Hey, you know you can tell me anything! I won’t judge

Jameson: I lost the communication device you bought me. 

Chase: You lost your phone?

Jameson: I did! I can’t understand it; it was right here with me and now it’s simply vanished! I’ve been looking for a quarter of an hour!

Chase: Have you checked to see if it’s in your hand, Jem?

Jameson: ...Oh.

Chase: <3

[septic-dr-schneep]

Ahhh I love Chase and Jameson!! What would happen if Jameson had to take care of Chase for a change? Like if Chase got sick at work and JJ had to help him?

Well, now, that’s a way to switch things up!

JSE Fanfiction - Not Going Anywhere

Summary: Chase overworks himself and manages to make himself sick. To make matters worse, the text he sends asking for someone to pick him up goes to the wrong person.

“Hey, hey…take it easy. You just passed out.”

Blinking blearily against the fluorescent lights that swam overhead,Chase lifted an arm that felt heavier than the entirety of his weight to shieldhis eyes. As he peeked between his fingers, he could make out the face of hiscameraman, Stanley, hovering over him. “Dude…” Memory poured back in all atonce and he stiffened, blurting out, “We’re—we’re gonna have to retake thatshot—You turned the camera off before I bombed it, right?”

“Honestly I think that’s the least important thing to worry about rightnow,” Stanley remarked. “Whoa, don’t try to sit up! You’re white as a sheet andI think you got a fever. You need—”

“All I need is to make sure my viewers aren’t freaking out; there’snothin’—I—I’m fine,” Chase stammered hurriedly, pushing himself up on hiselbows and then rolling sideways onto hands and knees. His breath stuttered atthe rolling nausea that plummeted into his stomach at the sudden motion. “I’mfine,” he muttered as he let his head hang a little lower, waiting for thedizziness to settle.

“Bro, you really should call in,” Stanley insisted, fishing Chase’s phoneout of his pocket and sliding it over the carpet next to his hand. “C’mon.”

“Not a chance,” Chase huffed shakily, ignoring how his arms ached andtrembled as he pushed off his hands to rise. He was expecting to at least makeit to the door before he needed to grab something, but he only managed tostumble a yard or two before the floor dipped underneath him, a dark mistcascaded over his eyes and his body listed in the wrong direction. Distantly heheard Stanley yelp in alarm before he crumpled sideways over the conferencetable, gasping for breath. For a moment or two he simply stayed where he was,turning his cheek into the cool comfort of the tabletop before Stanley draggedhim upright and steered him into the nearest chair.

“Chase, you’re not going anywhere except home, to bed,” hesnapped, snatching up his phone and pressing it firmly into the vlogger’s hand,wrapping his fingers around it with a finalizing squeeze. “Call or text someone.”

“…M’kay. M’kay.” Panting as he abruptly found himself out of breath,Chase fumbled shaking fingers over his cell screen in clumsy swipes, the rightnumbers eluding him for three or four tries before it finally unlocked.

The text he sent was more or less nothing but a jumbled mess; hopefullyit would make enough sense for Marvin to know he needed to pick him up. Withthat out of the way, Chase let his phone drop into his lap and leaned his headback against the chair’s padding, inhaling deeply and listening to his heartrace.

“Thanks, Stan,” he mumbled, to which the cameraman said something oranother about putting out a tweet to reassure fans of the channel beforepatting his shoulder and heading out of the room. Now that he was alone withthe silence, Chase let his eyes slip closed.

Cool, calloused hands touching his face made him startle slightly,lifting his aching head with a deep grimace. “Marv?”

“Oh, my, you’rescalding!”

As Chase’s dazed eyes landed on the speech slide hovering in front ofhim, they widened. “Jameson? What…what’re you doin’ here?”

“You sent for me!” the younger Ego protested worriedly. “I received amessage from the device you bought for me, saying you’d fallen ill and youneeded help!”

As he sat up straighter in the chair, Chase leaned too far forward andhad to set his elbows on his knees to keep from pitching onto the floor as hegroaned out a curse. “That was meant for Marvin…”

“TheMagnificent had a meeting with his stage manager this afternoon; he’s alreadygone,” Jameson reminded him, wringing his hands fretfully as he watched Chasemassage his forehead. After another minute, he huffed determinedly and squaredhis shoulders. “Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll get you home and taken care of.”

“Aw, Jem, you don’t have to bother…I can…”

“Absolutelynot, sir! I may not be able to magically heal you but I have no intention ofstanding idly by. Speaking of which, give me your arm.”

Judging by how he was already pocketing Chase’s phone and reaching tograsp his hand, it didn’t seem like he going to take no for an answer, so Chaseallowed it, remarking wryly, “I don’t think Marv would be able to magicallyheal me either—or maybe he’s holdin’ out on me.” Once their fingers wereentwined, he was a little startled at the strength behind Jameson’s heave. Itwas undermined by the gentleness of the arm wrapping around his waist thatfollowed, though.

“Lean on meif you feel the need,” Jameson urged kindly as they shuffled toward thedoor.  

“S’okay,” Chase assured him again. Jameson didn’t respond, so he couldn’tbe sure whether or not he believed him.

The need to lean on him really didn’t surface until they made it into thetaxi and the drive home started. The sudden stops and starts at the lights andthe swerving turns were butchering his stomach; the longer it went on, theharder Chase found it to swallow—the more he needed to swallow. Jameson’s arm remained firmly around his back,his hand squeezing his side.

“Easy now,” he soothed,brows knitting in understated worry. “Deep breaths, Chase, deep breaths. We’realmost there, it won’t be long…”

Even with JJ’s reassurances, Chase was quite seriously consideringthrowing himself out of the taxi by the time Egos Incorporated appeared beforethem. Somehow or another they made it down the hall to his bedroom before his weakenedlegs gave out under the dizziness; as they did, Jameson jumped and twisted in away his body probably wasn’t meant to as he tried to steer Chase onto the bedinstead of the floor.

He landed face first in the sheets, moaning something unintelligible inmingled relief and discomfort. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jamesonspeaking but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his head and look. If hemade a guess, the younger Ego was probably asking if he needed anything else.

“Got a headache,” he mumbled, sliding a hand up over his head and gropinginelegantly around for the bedside table. When that proved ineffective, he gaveup, letting his arm fall limply over the side of the bed. “Jays, there’s…whiskeythere somewhere…”

“Absolutelynot!” Jameson exclaimed indignantly, his words going unseen. “Whiskey isnot a substitute for proper medicines! I’ll go fetch something more fitting.”As he turned away, he gave his vest an agitated tug, shaking his head. “I’llneed to send a message to the doctor and ask what may be suitable…The names onthose bottles are far beyond me!”

When Chase waited and heard JJ’s footsteps retreating instead of thefamiliar, comforting sloshes of whiskey dancing in its bottle, he sighedgroggily. “Okay. Guess I’ll just sleep it off then…” Kicking off his shoes witha bit of a struggle, he took a breath and held it, hoping that the nausea wouldbe suppressed with it as he eased himself over onto his back.

His body pillow was there at his side by the wall, soft and inviting, butit took only a minute after he hugged it against his chest for its case toabsorb his feverish heat and become uncomfortable. Fine, he mused grudgingly ashe shoved it away. He was already exhausted enough that he had a feeling hecould fall asleep without it.

On the other side of the house, Jameson rifled haphazardly through thedoctor’s cabinets, glancing every so often at the message Schneeplestein hadsent in reply to his question. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry at how untidythe various medical bottles were becoming under Jameson’s probing hands; he wasin a hurry to get back to Chase before Chase tried again to reach for thatwhiskey. The anxiety churning in his gut didn’t particularly help him keepeverything straight either.

By all of the others’ accounts, it was rare for Chase to fall ill.Jackieboy and the doctor himself seemed to have the weaker immune systems inthe group, while Jameson had yet to see Marvin even break a sweat that wasn’trelated to a true injury. Chase, however—Chase was meant to remain untouchable.The lingering sensation of the heat in his palms as he’d cupped his face andhugged his back was alarming.

Even more alarming was the fact that by the time he got back, Chase wasalready dead asleep, his breathing slow and heavy. The man had the energy anddrive of one of those electric batteries Jameson had learned of! He wasn’tmeant to fall asleep so quickly…He wasn’t meant be so pallid…He wasn’t meant tohave those dark rings underneath his eyes…He just wasn’t.

Pursing his lips tightly, Jameson set the pain medication on the bedsidetable. “I ought not to expect so much of you,” he murmured. “But whenyou’re out of sorts, you have me out of sorts, my fine fellow.”

Beyond that, he didn’t know what to say. He knew Chase wasn’t hearinghim, so what was the point? He didn’t have any intention of leaving either. Exhalingshortly, he leaned to his left and took up the whiskey bottle on instinct,examining how much of it was left. Not much, but Chase wouldn’t notice if hehad a sip, would he?

The sip became two or three sips, which became a hasty hand on top of hishat so he could tilt his head back for a swig. He was a gentleman, however; he wouldn’t take all of another man’swhiskey! What he had was just enough to bolster him, help him find it inhimself to take off his hat, crawl up onto the bed next to the older Ego andcurl into the crook of his arm.

As the bedsprings creaked, Chase twitched and shivered faintly, ahalf-formed murmur leaving his lips as he turned his head away, and Jamesonpromptly stilled, making himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t disturbhim any further. Only once the vlogger’s higher, shorter gasps eased back intodeeper breathing did Jameson release his own, swallowing hard.

It occurred to him then that such close proximity may very well get himsick as well, but now Chase was shivering steadily and his hand was instinctivelytightening on the fabric of Jameson’s vest.

“I’m notgoing anywhere,” the younger Ego concluded, peeking pensively up atChase’s pale, clammy features. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The second time, it was a promise.

[septic-dr-schneep]

Ahem.

Chase whisking off Jameson’s hat to give his hair a thorough ruffling and an affectionate kiss on the forehead before putting the Bro Average hat on him instead.

Thank you, that is all.