Battleship

You planned it all. The fake haunting to scare Haversham's wife into hiring you. You planned to get to the house early and set up with Bianca. You set everything up and waited. Your success depended on Gus' actions. You planned for Gus not Fearless Guster.

You expected him to run when he saw the house was dark and empty. You expected him to run when the dog started barking at 'nothing'. You expected him to haul ass when he saw the woman in the woods. You kept expecting him to leave, you almost wanted him to. To prove that it wasn't you he was scared of. You wanted him to leave like he had thirteen years ago.

It was an accident. You were playing Battleship again, even though you were turning seventeen that year. You were too old for a game like that but Gus wouldn't let the re-match go. And you admit that you may have accidentally left a few pieces off the board, forgetfully. It slipped your mind. You stand fully behind the fact that if Gus hadn't of chosen to stretch at that moment, you wouldn't of focused on the small sliver of skin above his belt buckle. You would've been able to cover your board and Gus wouldn't have noticed. Accidents.

Even at seventeen, Gus resorted to childish, tit-for-tat antics. He called you a cheater and tackled you on the sofa. Your foot hit the underside of the table, knocking the little pieces to the floor. You wanted to move, you had to; your body was betraying you. Gus' body heat and the feel of his weight on top of you was making your head swim. You wanted to move but you couldn't help but catalog where the pieces went inside your head.

You didn't understand your reaction. You'd slept with three girls and drunkenly hooked up with Keith Winston during half time at a football game and none of them had made you feel this way. It was a sensory overload; any contact with Gus' skin sent your whole body aflame. You could barely breathe and you were both scared and dazed. Yet some part of you didn't want it to end. You knew you had to move, had to get Gus off of you because eventually, he would shift and feel your reaction. And you didn't know how you would ever be able to explain that away.

So, you started to push Gus off as best you could using only your arms. You kept your lower half as still as possible, though your body was trying to move into the heat. You tried in vain to push Gus off when he shifted suddenly, his hips meeting yours and you involuntarily responded. You gave a sharp thrust, a slight moan escaping your lips. Gus' head tilted, trying to meet your fearful gaze. You closed your eyes, hating the sudden silence. Henry was on shift somewhere and not due back for another two hours. You started to wish you'd listened when he told you not to cheat.

Its so fucking quiet until you can't help but open your eyes, just to see if Gus was still looking at you. He's still partially on top of you, his focus on where your hips touch. With a wavering intake of breath, he shifts, only slightly, putting pressure on your groin. A small shift, but just enough to make you gasp. Almost experimentally, in the same way Gus attacked everything scientific, he repeats the motion three more times until you can't withhold a low groan in approval. No one says a word. You wanted to ask just what exactly he's doing and why he hadn't thought of it earlier, but you're scared. Scared that Gus will stop, but more scared that he'd look at you the same way Keith did when you drunkenly stuck your hand down his pants. You don't know what you'd do if Gus ever looked at you with that much… disgust.

So, you kept going, kept moving. Eventually, the both of you found a satisfying rhythm and picked up the pace. In your amazement, you hadn't noticed the small sounds Gus was making above you. His arms started to tire and he let his full weight rest on top of you, his breath hot against your neck. For a brief moment, you considered cutting your hair, just so you could keep watching his face. The carefree expression, one you'd never seen before. And in that moment, you understood those inexplicable emotions you'd been having. You realized that you love him, that you'd been in love with him since you could remember. You love making him angry enough to bite his lip, and you love it when he calls in the middle of the night after his favorite soap opera star dies. You love Gus and you don't see how you didn't see it before. Your heart started to beat faster so you held him tighter to you, losing your thoughts in the rhythm. You bit your lip and you tried to keep quiet.

The new speed had Gus coming in minutes, the small sounds in the back of his throat the only sound in your head. Gus gave a final thrust, and you found yourself pulling his lips to yours as you swallowed your choked moans. You came with a feeling of intense mourning and emptiness. You feel your arms trap Gus in a vice grip because it's over sooner than you thought it would be.

He waits until you're able to breathe again before climbing off of you. He doesn't spare you a glance, not even an awkward one, as he leaves. You see him the next day and he acts like nothing happened. He plays it so well you almost believed it yourself. Almost because for the next two years, whenever anyone mentioned Battleship, he promptly changed the subject. And though you'd demolished a well placed line and almost fucked up your friendship completely, you can't bring yourself to regret never learning good sportsmanship.

When Fearless Guster discovered what you'd done, he'd been furious. You stood up, his voice quieting in your mind. Somewhere along the course of your friendship, you'd developed an ability to turn on the Gus Speech Filter. You took a couple of steps, stopping when your chest met his. Your hand reaches out, almost of its own accord. You placed your hand on the back of Gus' neck tentatively. Before you could explain, you pulled his lips to yours. You knew you shouldn't, you had the scar tissue of your past mistake. But you couldn't care about that. You couldn't see past anything but your own carnal need to taste those lips.

The feel of his warm lips and his racing pulse under your hands pulled words from your mind that you hadn't thought about in years. Heat, Gus, Battleship, Henry's shift, Keith, cheating. You could feel his hands on your hips trying to push you away but, you hold on to him as best you can. Your tongue pushes between his teeth and you hear the groan in the pit of his stomach. And for a brief moment, you think you've won.

And as you lean your hips into his, he's pushing you away, hard enough to bruise. You feel the warmth leave your skin as quickly as your heart pounds. You stand there trying to breathe, your head lowered so as not to see the look in his eyes. It hurt enough the first time. You try to ignore the chill in your bones and the way his erection felt against yours before he pushed you away.

You hear his car start and your knees start to buckle as you think of tomorrow. Because you know he will pretend like nothing happened. But maybe he'll throw himself into a case. Or take off from work to go to lunch with you and your Dad. All things old Gus would've been too scared to do.

And you'd have to sit there and accept his avoidance all over again. Your Dad was right; you never learned your lessons. Fearless Guster and Gus had a lot in common. Fearless Guster wasn't afraid of anything. Except you.