Chapter Text
If you asked him at any other time, JJ could honestly say that nothing good had come from John B’s treasure hunt.
Any other time, JJ would complain about the near-constant encounters they were having with Rafe now that they were spending more time around figure 8.
Any other day, he would admit that even though the idea of four hundred million dollars worth of gold was something out of a dream, he knew that it was really just that– a dream. A dream that had already gotten them trapped, and chased, and fucking shot at.
But right now, he’s watching Pope climb out of the water. His head is thrown back in delighted laughter, and the sun is reflecting off the water at just the right angle so it highlights his toned arms, flexing as he pulls himself up, and he’s shaking the water out of his hair, and all JJ can think is I love you, I love you, I love you.
He stands up, fully back on the boat now, and there are droplets of water glistening on his chest and stomach, and JJ’s eyes are drifting, and there’s a birthmark on Pope’s hip that he wants to sink his teeth into, to bite and kiss and—
And Pope’s talking now.
JJ blinks, dragging his eyes up, up, up, all the way to Pope’s lips, still smiling brightly around the words he’s forming. He tries to pull his focus, to force himself to not only hear the words coming out of the other boy’s mouth, but to actually listen to them as well, but then Pope is walking past him, suddenly rushing, and JJ turns to follow him, because he might not know where they’re going, but he’ll be damned if he misses even one second of this.
They’re standing together at the wheel for the boat, now, and JJ’s distracted again as he watches Pope’s fingers wrap around the transmission, shifting the boat’s engine from an idle spin to a whirring, speeding, current. He jolts with the sudden change, reaching for anything to grab to help him find his footing as they leave Topper’s boat in the dust.
Oh, shit.
Topper’s boat.
Topper’s very nice, very new, very expensive boat.
Which Pope had just sunk.
And it’s not that JJ forgot what had just happened, necessarily, just that he was… distracted.
His mind had moved onto better things.
But now he’s thinking about it again, and it’s not that he thinks what Pope did was wrong, because it most certainly fucking wasn’t. Topper stood by and did nothing while Rafe stole from Pope, carved his face in, shoved him to the ground, and beat him with a fucking golf club. No, in JJ’s opinion, they both deserve much fucking worse– something like a visit from him and his favorite new toy, where he could blow their fucking kneecaps out for even breathing in Pope’s direction, much less beating the shit out of him. The look of pure misery and defeat on his face when they had met up right after isn’t one JJ is likely to forget anytime soon, and he wanted to personally punch the teeth in of the two people who were responsible for it.
So the point stands– he doesn’t think what Pope did was wrong. He’s proud of him for standing up for himself for one, and if it was up to him, Pope would never regret it, not even for a second.
But JJ knows Pope the same way he knows the tides– totally and completely.
Looking at him now, he can already see a slight pinch around his eyes, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the regret and anxiety sets in. They’re early in the process now, though, which means JJ still has the opportunity to offer reassurances and have the chance that they’ll actually make a difference.
He waits for the boat to slow– he wants Pope to really hear him, and if he’s screaming over the rushing wind and crashing waves, his point will certainly get lost along the way– before walking back over to the other boy and clasping a hand on his shoulder. Pope’s skin is bare and hot from the sun, all remaining dampness from the water having been dried away by the wind, and JJ pointedly ignores the twist in his stomach at the feeling, choosing instead to focus on the way Pope’s eyes widen, flickering repeatedly between looking at the hand on his shoulder and back up at JJ.
“I’m really proud of you, man.” He says quietly, voice painfully earnest even to his own ears. Still, Pope scoffs good-naturedly, as if he can’t quite believe the sincerity in JJ’s words. “What, for sinking a perfectly good, brand-new boat? I thought you would be totally devastated.” He asks, the teasing tone falling just a little bit flat. Normally, JJ would laugh and make some joke, but not now, not when Pope needs him. So he shakes his head, squeezes the hand that’s still on Pope’s shoulder, and says, “Not when it belonged to that douchebag, I’m not.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, because–” Pope starts, and JJ can’t tell if he’s just unsure how to deal with the seriousness of the moment or if he’s clinging to humor because he’s desperate for something familiar, but JJ’s not having it.
“Hey, I’m serious, alright? You stood up for yourself today. They attacked you for no reason, and you didn’t let them keep any power over you for it. You were really fucking brave today, and it was incredible. I’m proud of you.” He says, holding eye contact despite the twinge of discomfort as he does so.
Pope’s blinking rapidly at him now, mouth slightly agape with shock. His eyes are darting up and down, between JJ’s eyes and his lips, as if he can’t quite believe that the words he’s hearing are coming out of JJ’s mouth.
“JJ, that’s. I mean. You.” He stuttered, and the total shock in his voice is almost painful, as if he doesn’t trust JJ to not have some sort of twisted joke, even now. JJ sighs, dropping his hand from where it has been resting on Pope’s shoulder. “Just take the compliment, yeah? Try not to freak yourself out about it, dude.” He insists, forcing lightheartedness into his tone despite the twist in his stomach.
“Okay, um.” Pope pauses again, clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks, Jayje.”
“Don’t mention it.” JJ responds easily, smiling tightly. He tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding, the warmth in his cheeks, and the way that all he really wanted to do was lean forward until he was pressed flush against Pope, skin touching skin, sharing heat and breath until they became more one person than two.
If JJ could crack open Pope’s ribs and live inside his chest, right next to his heart, he would .
But he’s stuck here, with inches that felt like miles separating him from the boy he loves.
The boy who he’s certain doesn’t love him back.
He had never had any sort of confirmation, of course– the idea of confessing his feelings is a terrifying one, and their friendship is far too important for JJ to risk sacrificing it in the name of unrequited feelings.
Nobody knows how JJ felt. Not anyone that matters, anyway. There’s one person– one hazy failed hookup from months ago, a touron who had caught his eye at a party in the middle of the off-season. He can’t remember the details of the night, not even with months of hindsight behind him– not how they started talking, or when they left the party, or how they ended up alone on a secluded section of beach. What he can remember, though, is the feeling of Pope’s eyes on his back as he walked away, burning a hole straight through his chest even then. And then, suddenly, he was sobbing into the lap of a dude he had just met, word-vomit still bitter in his mouth.
“I love him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I love him. It hurts so bad.” He had cried, his whole body weak with the force of a confession that had been trying to force its way out for months already.
“It’ll pass,” the touron had whispered, voice painfully kind.
He still doesn’t remember when or how he left, only that he woke up alone in his own bed the following morning.
Those words echoed in his head on a near-constant loop for the next few months. Every time his gaze lingered on Pope for a second too long, every time he felt a twist in his stomach when Pope smiled, every time he had to resist the urge to lean in, to get closer, to touch , he heard those words all over again.
And he waited, and waited, and waited for that to happen, for it to pass.
It never did.
Somewhere along the line, things got crazy, and their lives were suddenly in danger, and JJ stopped wanting it to pass.
Standing here, now, he couldn’t bring himself back to that old mindset, no matter how much easier he knew it would be. The longing he’s feeling in this moment is a full-bodied ache, one that no pain killer could possibly alleviate.
He knows without thinking that he’s going to spend his night after this tossing and turning, imagining a reality where, against all logic, Pope loves him too.
But for now, they’re pulling into the dock, and Pope is right in front of him, and JJ’s almost breathless with the hopelessness of it all. He knows Pope needs him, but his chest is tightening painfully and he needs out.
He quickly ties the boat to the anchors on the dock, and within a few seconds he’s climbing out, a smile pasted on his face and an easy excuse forming on his lips. He looks at Pope, preparing to make his exit, only to find the other boy already looking at him. HIs eyes are wide and pleading, and JJ knows his easy exit has already gone down the drain.
“You’re leaving?” Pope asks, his voice small.
“Pope, I–” JJ starts, still somewhat fighting for his escape, but Pope steps forward and interrupts him before he can finish. “Please don’t leave. I need– uh.” He pauses, dragging his hand down his face. He’s clearly trying to collect his thoughts, and even though now would be the perfect time to interrupt and force his escape, JJ can’t quite bring himself to do it. So he waits.
“I have to explain to my dad why I lost him $150 worth of groceries, a delivery fee, and probably a client all in one afternoon. Would you mind coming too? So you can vouch for me?”
And here’s the thing. JJ knows Heyward. He knows the man would never lay a hand on his son, no matter how angry he was. He also knows that Pope hadn’t meant to imply that he might, and was really just speaking from a fear of getting grounded.
And yet the words sent a horrible twist through JJ’s stomach, completely different from the kind he usually gets when talking to Pope.
It makes him think of Luke, of all the times he’s been beaten for much less.
“Hey, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to deal with a pissed off dad, right?” He chokes, trying desperately to keep the effect the bloodstained memories are having on him under wraps. If the look on Pope’s face is any indication, though, he’s failed.
“Jayje, that’s not–”
And JJ doesn’t want to hear Pope’s apologies, not when it’s not his fault.
“Listen, of course I’ll come with you, dude. But I’m pretty sure your dad is gonna take one look at your face and know you’re telling the truth.”
“Yeah, but. Just in case?”
“Sure, Pope. Just in case.”
And so they go.
Of course, just as JJ predicted, Heyward is frustrated about the failed delivery all the way until he actually sees his son’s face and realizes why, exactly, things went wrong.
JJ doesn’t have to defend Pope from his father at all.
It’s strange.
He tries to leave then, but Mrs. Heyward walks in the front door just as he’s inching his way out, and she insists he stay for dinner.
He doesn’t even get the chance to try after that, because as soon as he and Pope are done cleaning the kitchen, Pope’s asking him to “please, please, please help him practice for his scholarship interview,” and who is JJ to say no when he’s being asked so nicely?
And then they’re upstairs in Pope’s room, and JJ’s stretched out on the bed, watching Pope rummage through the pile of papers on his desk and worry his bottom lip between his teeth, and the thought from earlier returns with a vengeance.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
He repeats it in his head like it’s a prayer, and he realizes, then, that perhaps it is.
His love for Pope is certainly the purest thing about him, and he truly can’t imagine ever feeling something more wholly and truly than he does right here, in this moment.
Pope starts speaking and snaps him out of it momentarily, but he knows that it won’t be long until his thoughts have drifted away from him yet again.
They rehearse for what seems like hours, JJ reading off every practice question Pope had found online over and over again until it was well into the middle of the night and both of their voices had grown hoarse.
He makes his final half-hearted attempt to leave, but Pope is vehemently against him walking back to the chateau so late, especially considering that Rafe and Topper would certainly be out for blood.
So he concedes, and tries to move a pillow to the floor for himself, but for some reason, that makes Pope laugh.
“Really, Jayje? We’ve been having sleepovers since the first grade. I’m pretty sure we can both fit.”
And JJ knows, of course, how many times they’ve shared this very bed. Countless times, back when they were younger and the feelings between them were mutually stuck in friendship.
But things are different now– JJ wants, and he hasn’t allowed himself to climb in Pope’s bed for almost a year for that very reason. He doesn’t know what he’ll do in his sleep, and the thought of destroying their friendship accidentally is terrifying.
But Pope’s inviting him in, pulling back the comforter and making room, and really, who is JJ to say no?
So he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and forces out a dry response that feels wrong on his tongue, and then he’s in bed with Pope.
It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t. The two of them settle quickly, and they’re laying side by side before he can overthink it further.
They’re curled together like a set of parentheses, and the bed is just barely large enough for the two of them, so JJ can feel Pope’s warm breath ghosting across his face as the boy drifts into sleep.
He wonders, briefly, if Pope can feel his breath too. He dismisses the question quickly– it’s stupid, because of course he can. But as JJ examines his face, peaceful and relaxed despite the still-forming bruises, there’s no sign of discomfort or unhappiness.
So JJ allows himself to drift off too, the smell of Pope’s shampoo on the pillow lulling him slowly into sleep.