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Jason slipped away in the darkness of the night, too aware of his own scent: weed and Vaas and sex. He was ashamed, of course. But he couldn’t stop. Every few days he was slipping into the pirate’s camp, breaking into Vaas’s shack, and they’d fuck each other and smoke and drink until they passed out. At some point, Jason would wake up in the night and make his escape, leaving Vaas asleep and alone.
Yeah, he was a fucking piece of shit. He saw the way Vaas looked at him when he showed up again, those dark eyes he’d thought so unreadable now open as a book. The man fucking loved him. And Jason was killing him with his casual cruelty. It made Jason want to vomit, made him hate himself, that he looked into those dark eyes, saw that love looking back at him, so easy to use, so easy to walk away from.
He’d kiss Vaas, touch him, fuck him, hold his body as he shivered and called Jason’s name, but he wouldn’t love him. Not couldn’t, wouldn’t. He could in a heartbeat, in that tiny instance of potential between heartbeats, could fall so hard and so fast it’d light the world with fireworks, but he wouldn’t let himself. He already knew that happiness just wasn’t in the cards for him, so why bother? So, he justified his misuse of Vaas to himself, and tried to bury the guilt and shame beneath drugs and booze. He hated himself so much.
Pounding footsteps made the American whirl on his heel, gun in hand before he’d even turned all the way around.
“Jason! Wait! Jason!” Vaas was puffing in between each word, breath short from a hard run. He was shirtless, sweat sheening over his dark skin. He looked beautiful, with his hair ruffled messily and his body glowing where the moonlight touched him. His eyes were pleading, “Please.”
Jason’s heart was hammering in his chest, hands shaking on the gun. He holstered it hard enough to leave a bruise on his own hip. “What?” It came out harsher than he’d intended, and Vaas glared at him.
“Don’t fucking leave,” he growled.
“What?” Now it was astonishment in his voice.
“Come back, and stay with me. Tonight. I can’t – won’t – keep doing this shit to myself.” He looked away. His voice wavered for moment, a brief show of weakness that shattered Jason. “I know you don’t … care for me. Maybe you don’t even like me.” He took a deep breath and looked back at the American, met his eyes. He shrugged, helpless in the face of his own emotion. “I know this shit never works, but. Stay with me.”
Jason stared at him, opened his mouth to protest, but Vaas cut him off.
“Don’t. Don’t think about it. Come home with me, amante. Stay with me.” Vaas’s eyes were pools of starlight, and Jason was drowning.
Jason’s throat was closing. He was afraid. The pirate took a step closer, putting them within easy arm’s reach. He held out his hand, palm up.
Death hunted them around every corner, heartbreak a certainty in their future. It was too cruel to do this, to pretend there was any sort of future where they lived to be very old men together. One of them would die, and it would kill the other one. Oh yes, Jason was very fucking terrified. He’d hurt so much in his handful of years. Vaas saw the fear cross his face.
“We could be so fucking happy,” he murmured, a secret in the breath of air between them. Jason reached out, tentative, hesitating, and then curled his fingers around Vaas’s. Slowly, he pressed forward, their bodies moving and melding together in gentle echo of their earlier encounter.
Pressed against Vaas’s chest, Jason found himself listening to the pirate’s heart, hearing the gentle thump of life in his body. He was astonished to find that their heartbeats were running on the same rhythm, beat by beat, together. And, with that realization he was gone. Love surged like wildfire up his chest, engulfed him. Fast as a heartbeat.
Fuck it. They might as well live today for themselves, enjoy the happiness they had now. Let tomorrow keep its heartbreak and horror for itself.
Vaas nuzzled into his neck, and murmured against his skin. “Stay with me?”
Jason didn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah. Absolutely.”