Looking Thru You, Ch. 2

Disclaimer: Disney's, not mine. Like so many wonderful, money-making things.

It was still dark out when Race quite suddenly woke up, courtesy of Sean's elbow catching him in the ribs.

"Oof." He rolled away from Sean's flailing limbs and swiped his hair back from his face. Sean was tossing and turning, and making a sound that could, if it had come from any other person, have been classified as a whimper.

"Shit," Race muttered. He reached out to shake Sean awake, then thought better of it; if Sean was having a nightmare, he was liable to come out of it swinging at whoever was nearby. He called Sean's name instead, leaning as close as he dared. "Sean. Sean."

Sean sat up sharply, gasping, looking around as though he weren't sure where he was.

"Sean," Race said again. "Look at me." When Sean stared at him blankly, he added, "It's Tony. You're in our dorm room." Sean relaxed slightly, and Race kept talking. "That's right. It's just you and me, in our bed. No one else. You're all right." Some more of the tension left Sean's body, and Race dared to reach out and touch his shoulder. Sean jumped a bit, but didn't pull away. "Okay? You're all right." He continued murmuring nonsense as he let his hand stroke up and down Sean's arm.

Sean slumped forward, closing his eyes. "Sorry."

"Not a problem," Race said. He stroked his hand up and down, up and down, rubbing Sean's shoulders, arm, back. He scooted himself in closer and rubbed the other arm, then kissed his shoulder gently. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really." Sean was quiet for a long moment, then rolled slowly so he was facing Race. "Sorry," he offered quietly. "I just don't want to…" His voice trailed off.

"It's okay," Race said. He reached up and combed his fingers through Sean's hair, then smoothed the pad of his thumb down Sean's jawline. Sean's eyes stayed steadily on his, even as he slid closer and pressed a closed-mouth kiss to Sean's lips.

"Sean," Race whispered softly. He let his hands drift down, stroking along Sean's long, lean muscles, his fingers tracing terribly gently over the dip of his hip bone. Sean's eyes finally drifted closed as Race kissed along his jawline, down his throat and along his clavicle. Sean tried to turn then, trying to roll them and take control, but Race gently pressed him back. This was for Sean.

He nudged Sean gently, and he rolled onto his stomach with only a slight hesitation. "It's okay," Race murmured. "You're okay." He was hard, but almost didn't notice it – he wanted this to be about Sean.

When Sean had settled onto his stomach, Race leaned over him and kissed the nape of his neck. He moved his mouth slowly down Sean's spine, dwelling on each vertebra, laving each dip and ridge with lips and tongue. Underneath him, Sean's hips rolled into the bed and he made a soft sound. Like the little noise he'd made in his dreaming, it was almost a whimper, but this time he sounded as though he were choked by his own desire.

"Love you," Race whispered. He let his hands slide up along Sean's sides, stroking him, rubbing strong thumbs along Sean's shoulder blades. "Love being with you." He saw Sean's hand fist in the sheets and felt the glow of pride warming him.

When his hands and mouth reached the swell of Sean's ass, he heard Sean sigh, "Tony. Please."

"Please what?" Race asked lowly. When Sean just moaned, he traced a finger along the cleft.

"Yes," Sean hissed.

Race let his finger press a little harder. "You sure?" They'd never switched roles like this; Sean was the top and he was the bottom, and that was the way it had been every time so far. They had always been comfortable, right in those roles. But he was surprised by his own sudden urge, to protect and claim, to shelter and own, to care for and mark as his own.

Sean moaned again and pressed back against his hand. "Yes," he said.

"Then roll over," Race said. "I want to see you."

He fumbled for a condom and lube while Sean obeyed, and when Sean was on his back, facing Race, their eyes met. For a minute, Race just kept the contact, rubbing down Sean's thighs with gentle strokes, lacing their fingers together and caressing his hands. When Sean began stir restlessly, his hips jerking up, Race leaned forward, angled himself, and slowly began to slide in.

Sean drew in a breath, and Race paused, aware of how tight his boyfriend was. "Okay?" Race asked.

"Yes," Sean said tightly. "God. Don't stop."

Race moved forward again, and soon he was setting a rhythm. It was slow at first, careful and painstakingly slow; even as Sean began to thrust back, he kept a leisurely pace, deep and unhurried. He changed his angle and leaned closer so he could kiss Sean, brushing his lips over every inch of his face. They went on and on, the pleasure building and throbbing between them, until it seemed as though they had always been joined like this, wrapped together with the endless night enfolding them like a dark blanket.

When Race came, he was almost surprised. Underneath him, Sean let out a moan that was almost a sob and followed, then pulled down on his shoulders, drawing him in close. "Love you," Sean panted in his ear, wrapping his arms more tightly around Race's shoulders. "Love you."

They slept curled together, Race still half on top of Sean. Race woke first, and watched Sean's face until he stirred.

"Hi," Race murmured.

A smiled ghosted across Sean's face. "Hey."

"Feel okay?"

"Mm-hm. Good," Sean said. He laced their fingers together. "Tony?"

"Yeah." Race was watching Sean's eyes blink sleepily, fascinated by his long lashes and those lovely, high cheekbones.

Sean took a deep breath. "I have to tell you something. About Jack."

A few floors below them, David was watching through sleepy eyes as Jack dressed for the day.

" 'S early," he mumbled. "Why're you up?"

Jack jumped a little, then finished buttoning his jeans and looked up. "We're meeting with everyone to plan what we're going to do tonight, right?"

"Mm," David agreed. He pulled his quilt over his shoulder and snuggled down into his bed.

"I've just got some things I need to get done today," Jack said. "I wanted to get them out of the way."

David struggled to sit up, the quilt still wrapped around him. "I'll help."

Jack grinned at him and stepped closer to shove him back down gently. David got so few chances to sleep in – no way Jack would deny him his Saturday morning. Even if he had wanted company for his errand this morning – and he didn't. "Nah. Sleep, Davey." He let his fingers comb through David's curls, lingering a minute when David smiled sweetly at him. A tendril of warmth tickled his groin, he pulled back, confused.

What the fuck was that? Jack drew back a bit more sharply than necessary, grateful that David's eyes were already closed and his breathing starting to even out again. Frowning, he grabbed his coat and keys and headed out the door, shaking his head. I'm jumpy today.

At this hour of the morning, there was no one else in the computer lab but the student attendant – who was sleeping with his head down on the desk when Jack slipped in and booted up one of the 

computers in the back row. He signed in with a fake name and password – he was good at covering his trail, but it didn't pay to take chances – and cracked his knuckles. "One more semester to pay for," he murmured.

It took longer than usual to get his tuition… squared away, and by the time he stepped out into the brightening day, it was already going on 7:30. Jack sighed and stretched, glad that he didn't have any morning classes for his last semester – he rarely saw this hour of the day, even during the week. David did, and it was killing him, especially in combination with the late nights for the newspaper. Actually, Jack thought, maybe he should swing by Starbucks and get David some coffee and a muffin or something. He could get them back to the room before David woke up for the day, bring him a little pick-me-up. That would please David – and if he was still in bed, he'd give Jack that sleepy smile, his hair all mussed up… just like he had earlier this morning. Jack remembered that fluttering in his stomach this morning, confusion warring with a touch of fear and guilt. What the hell had that been, anyway? He'd been almost –

Nothing, he told himself. It had been nothing. He spun on his heel, leaving Starbucks behind him, and headed for the girls' dorm. Maybe Sarah would grab some breakfast with him, if she was up.

Sarah was indeed already up when he stopped by her dorm room. He could see her over Teensy's head, rifling through her bureau drawers, when Teensy opened the door for him.

"Hey, Teens," he said offhandedly as he stared a little, noting that his girlfriend was wearing only jeans and a bra.

"Hi," she mumbled. He glanced down, then straightened up when he got a good look at her. Her face was haggard and had a vaguely greasy shine to it, and her hair – not only was it limp, but it was the same neon orange it had been last time he'd seen her, with about an inch of dark roots showing. He tried to remember if he'd seen her since Christmas break. Sarah had mentioned she'd been studying like crazy for the GREs, he thought, and she'd been out of their room a lot, always at the library when he stopped by. He hadn't really objected to him and Sarah having the room all to themselves pretty much whenever they wanted.

Teensy moved out of his way, going to her bed and curling up around one of the pillows. He shrugged it off. He'd have to remember to ask David, or maybe Race. They probably knew better than he did if something was going on.

"Hey, girl," he whispered, coming up behind Sarah and slipping his arms around her bare waist. He kissed her neck. "Want to have breakfast with me?"

She turned in his arms and smiled at him. "Sure." She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Where are we going?"

"Tibby's okay?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "We're going somewhere off-campus?" At his nod and shrug, she adopted a stern expression. "All right, what did you do?"

"What are you talking about?" he said. A tiny ball of nervousness formed in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't done anything recently… had he?

"I'm kidding, babe," she said. She stepped away and grabbed a pinkish shirt from her open dresser drawer, then picked up her coat and purse. "Let's go."

Del gave him one of her looks – the ones that should have gotten her a job interrogating prisoners of war – when he and Sarah slipped into a booth at Tibby's. She made her way to their table with her coffee pot and smirked as she filled their cups. "So, Sar," she said. "What'd he do?"

"Hey," Jack protested, ignoring a vaguely unsettled feeling in his stomach. Didn't anyone think he ever just did something nice for his girlfriend? "I didn't do anything! We're just having breakfast!"

Sarah just smiled when Del raised an eyebrow at her. "It's true."

"Huh." Del slapped two menus down on the table. "Special's a Denver scramble or the cinnamon waffles. Orange juice is fresh. I'd avoid the cinnamon rolls – I saw Morris drooling over them before." She cocked her head. "He may have dripped."

Sarah made a face. "You are the most charming person I know, Del."

Del's grin flashed brightly. "Don't I know it, though. I'll send Race out to get your orders in a few minutes."

Sean approached with their water. "Jacky-Boy. Nice of you to bring the girl out." He nodded at Sarah. "What'd he do?"

Jack groaned. "I didn't do anything to her. What do you people think I am? I don't do anything to her." Sarah groaned. Seeing Sean's smarmy grin, he hastily added. "Anything bad, I mean. I didn't do anything bad! It's good – I mean, anything I do to her is good."

"Well, that's one person's opinion," said Race, coming up behind Sean. "We'll have to see whether Sarah agrees or not."

"I lied," she said. "Del's not the most charming person I know. It's a tie. I think you three share a brain or something."

Sean snorted and walked away.

Race turned back to the table. "So, what'll it be?" His eyes met Jack's briefly, then flicked away, focusing intently on Sarah.

Sarah ordered a fruit bowl and a muffin, and Jack chose the Southwestern skillet. "Right, then," Race said, scribbling on his pad. "I'll put that in." He hesitated a moment, though, frowning at Jack and tapping his pen against his knuckles.

"Um… okay? Sounds good," Jack said, a little confused. He glanced at Sarah when Race finally walked away. "What's his deal today?"

She looked a little confused herself. "I don't know." Her eyes followed him as he approached the busing station where Sean stood, watching. Their heads bent together and the pair whispered back and forth. They both looked up and straight at Jack at the same time, then quickly glanced away when they saw him watching them. Finally, Race took a quick look around and then reached to squeeze Sean's hand. Sean flashed a fast but brilliant smile at him, then turned back to the dishes he was sorting as Race began entering his order on the computer touch screen.

Jack sighed and slid back on the sticky vinyl of the booth seat. Something was going on – he just hoped it had nothing to do with him. One more semester, he reminded himself. Stay under the radar for one more semester.

Del was watching Race and Sean from her hostess station, too, eyes narrowed suspiciously. When Sean made his way to the kitchen door, untying his apron, she glanced over the dining room and, confident that it wouldn't fall apart in four minutes, fell into step behind him. She followed him right out the back door, pushing past him when he saw her and paused. The door swung shut behind them.

He pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out.

She held out a hand. "Lemme bum one."

He frowned at her. "You have your own."

She shrugged. "I left them inside. So, c'mon, gimme me one." When he just stared at her, she sighed. "Yeah, the glare of death so doesn't work on me, buddy. Just give me the fucking cig. I'll pay you back later."

He handed one over and she tapped it on her palm, then held a hand out for his lighter. He grunted in annoyance and tossed it to her.

Drawing in a long, easy breath, she let the nicotine hit her and rode the wave. "So," she said after another three or four drags. "You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

She watched Sean closely, but his expression didn't shift. "What're you talking about?"

"Something's up," she said. "You and Race are being weird today." She blew out a stream of smoke. "He's all fidgety. He dropped the silverware three times when we were rolling it up."

Sean shrugged. "He gets that way."

"Yeah," she said, "when he doesn't sleep. Is he not sleeping again? Are you guys fighting or something?"

Sean shook his head.

"And then there's you," Del said, still watching him closely.

"What about me?"

"You're being all brooding and dark."

"I'm always brooding and dark," Sean said.

Del rolled her eyes. "Yeah. You're freaking Jason Bourne. Something's going on – what did you guys do last night?"

Sean flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. "Fucked like bunnies."

She wasn't going to be deterred that easily. "Before that."

He smirked. "More of the same. You?"

She scowled. "No. Unfortunately."

"Aw," he said, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "Mush wasn't free? Or wait – is it Blink you want to screw? I'm confused."

Smiling sweetly, she stepped closer to him. "I'm not going to be distracted that easily." She very deliberately ground her cigarette out beneath her toe, watching him. Pointedly.

"Oh no. I'm afraid," Sean said in a bored tone.

She snorted and turned to head back inside, then paused. "Look – you'd tell me if it was something big, right? I mean, if it was a real problem."

It didn't escape her that Sean hesitated before he nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"All right," she said. "Then I won't drag it out of Race. I'll let it go – for now."

Sean stomped out his own butt. "He keeps secrets better than you'd think," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure he hasn't told you, for one, everywhere we've screwed."

Del sighed. "Because I'd really want to know that." She paused with her hand poised to knock on the back door. "Anywhere good?"

Sean smirked. "Let's just say you'd never look at the back storage room the same way."

She felt a chuckle bubbling up, but repressed it and gave him her best haughty look. "Please," she said as Oscar popped the door open for them, "who hasn't done it there?"

Jack was standing on a chair along one wall of Blink and Mush's apartment, raising his hands for silence. "All right," he said loudly. "I know there's a lot of us here, so let's do this." David watched as the sea of students spread out across all the furniture and the floor, leaning against the kitchen doorway and the walls, quieted and turned to look at Jack.

Jack looked down at him. "You good to take notes, Davey?"

David held up his pad of paper and a pen. "Yup."

"We know why we're here," Jack said. "This is our school. We're the ones who make it, really shape it, and the big shots think they can make changes, big changes that'll affect us, and we'll just go along with it because we're just kids to them – an unorganized bunch of kids with no brains. All they care is that we – or our moms and dads – keep dropping those big tuition checks in their laps every semester." He took a deep breath. "Well, we're here to say we're not going to stand for it. We're not just going to take what they give us." He looked around the room. "So, what are we going to do?"

The room was very quiet, and David bit his lip. What if he and his friends were the only ones who really cared about this? They wouldn't have much power if there was only twelve or fifteen of them making a fuss.

But then someone from the back of the room said, "How about a sit-in?" in an uncertain voice, and then someone else piped up with, "Or a walk-out."

"Protests!"

"Signs!"

"The media!"

A half hour later, David was furiously scribbling and crossing out in his notebook as Jack called out to various people around the room.

"All right, we should get signs up as soon as we can. Computer-generated and bigger ones, too. Who wants to work on signs?" He glanced around the room as hands popped up. "Great. Sarah 

– can you take care of that?" She nodded. "So other than signs, the first thing we'll try is a sit-in, then?" There were murmurs of agreement from around the room. "Okay, today's Saturday. Should we say Tuesday for the sit-in?"

David looked up at him. "Maybe Thursday, Jack. Give us a few days to get the word out."

Jack glanced down at him and nodded. "Right. Thursday, then. All day in the president's office – from the time it opens until it closes. Show up when you can, leave for class and come back, but talk it up to people. Let's get that whole floor filled."

"Hey," called a voice from the back. "Maybe we should make it like a silent sit-in, to make a point. Like we're not being given any voice?"

Jack was nodding. "That's good. I like it. What's your name, man?"

"Jeff."

"Can you handle being in charge of getting the word out about the sit-in, Jeff?"

David raised an eyebrow at Jack's blunt delegation tactics, but the other guy shrugged. "Sure."

"Cool. Anyone who can help with that, see Jeff afterwards."

"Hey, Jack," called Blink from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah?"

"What about the profs? We made contacts with a lot of them last semester when those people didn't get tenure. Maybe we should tap them."

"Good," Jack said. "That's good. You, and Mush, and Del are in charge of that, okay?"

To David's amusement, Blink's face turned a purplish shade, but Jack had already moved on. "We should talk to the press right away, too. Who can do that?"

"Maybe you should, Jack," David offered. "I mean, you're kind of the leader."

Jack looked down at him. "No. I – uh, no press for me. Can you handle it, Davey? You know how the media works."

David sighed. There went the few precious hours of sleep he was squeaking by on now. "Yeah, Jack. I'll get some people to help me – campus and local press."

Jack grinned at him, and he warmed and smiled back in spite of himself. "Great." David turned to a new page in the notebook and wrote CALL MONICA in big letters. Then he circled it for good measure.

Voices around the room were increasing as smaller conversations broke out, but when Jack waved his arms, the room quieted again – mostly. "Hey, just to recap, then – signs and media right away. See Sarah and David to help with those. The sit-in will be next Thursday, all day – see Jeff to help with that. See Blink, Mush, and Del to help with talking to the professors. Depending on how the sit-in goes, we'll plan on a protest or two the week after, and then the walk-out will be the next step the week after. And we'll meet here again next week Thursday to discuss how things went. Thanks everyone!"

Jack had to raise his voice a little at the end to be heard, but overall, it had been a good meeting, David concluded. It was hard enough to get 50 or 60 college students to focus on anything for forty-five minutes.

Jack was stepping down from his chair. "That went well," he said.

"Yeah," David said. "I mean, at least we have a plan. That's good, right?"

"You bet, Davey," Jack said, grinning at him. "We've got a plan now."

David grinned back, but he couldn't fight the tension slowly seeping into his body.

Two hours later, most of the extraneous people had cleared out of Blink and Mush's apartment, but the tension was still there. David was huddled together with Sarah and Del and Racetrack on the couch, while Jack and most of the rest of their friends did some "planning" that sounded suspiciously like celebrating in the kitchen.

"Davey!" Jack called from across the room. "We have a plan! It's going to work – I can feel it." From somewhere near the kitchen doorway, Blink whooped. David sighed, and turned back to his sister, Del, and Race.

"This isn't a game, you know," he said lowly. "There could be consequences. Real consequences."

Race nodded, and Sarah's face was troubled. He could see the nervousness he felt echoed in their eyes; even Del's face was tight.

"I don't think they get that," Sarah murmured.

"Maybe they do," Race said. He smiled as Sean came up and handed him a beer. "Maybe they don't care."

David narrowed his eyes. "Why wouldn't they care?"

"Idealism?" Race shrugged.

"Or they feel like they have nothing to lose," Sean said.

David stared at Sean. "Nothing to lose? What about all the money they've poured into this school? Their credits towards a degree? Not to mention their possible future careers."

Del shrugged. "I lean more toward the idealism. I think they think they're invincible right now. We'll see how they feel after the first protest. Or after the first time someone threatens them."

Sean nodded. "That's when people will either stick it or clear out," he said. "That's when we'll know if they've got what it takes."

"So we're doing this, then," David said. He glanced at his friends. "And damn the consequences?"

Slowly, Race and Del nodded, then Sean. Finally, Sarah took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said. "We're all in. No one can make us give our rights away."

David sighed and rose. "All right. I should get our illustrious leader home, then." He glanced around the apartment, frowning. "Where are they?"

He could see Mush and Dutchy sprawled near the TV, flipping through Mush's DVD collection while Gabby and Bumlets looked on and offered occasional commentary. But the others – he didn't see them, even when he crossed the room and peered into the kitchen from the doorway.

It was then that he heard a giggle from behind the kitchen island. He peered over it to see Jack, Specs, and Blink sprawled out on the floor, a mostly empty bottle of tequila and several shot glasses between them. Jack blinked at him, then smiled blearily. "DAV-eeeeeeee!" he said. "Wanna drink?"

"Oh, God almighty." David closed his eyes briefly, and for an instant, felt like crying. Then he opened them and called for Mush and Dutchy.

"Holy shit," Mush said when he saw the trio, but he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Dutchy just shrugged. "Looks like I'm not getting any tonight."

Mush bent over Blink, nudging him until he sat up enough to loop his arms around Mush's shoulders. Dutchy followed suit with Specs, and soon David was helping a stumbling Jack down the stairs and into Race's car.

Jack didn't pass out on the brief ride back to their dorm, and he was still conscious when Race and Sean helped David deposit him on his bed and said goodnight. "Déjà vu," he heard Race whisper to Sean on their way out, and David blew out an exasperated breath and clenched his jaw.

"You're mad at me," Jack said from his ungraceful sprawl across the bottom bunk.

David bent down and began working on Jack's shoelaces. "No."

"You are!" Jack insisted.

"No, I'm not," David said tightly. He pried one sneaker off.

"Why're you mad at me, Davey?" Jack asked.

Suddenly unable to control the temper flaring inside him, David threw the shoe in his hand at the wall near Jack's head. "Because you always do this, you asshole!" he shouted.

Jack's eyes widened so far it would have been funny – if David wasn't so intensely pissed off.

"You get so fucking drunk," David said, "And you act like an idiot and do stuff and say stuff you shouldn't, and then I have to take care of you and clean up after you and keep you from ending up passed out in a gutter somewhere. And I'm sick of it. Fucking sick of it."

"But," Jack said, "that's what you do. Isn't it?"

David groaned. "What? Clean up your puke and be your DD?"

"Take care of me," Jack mumbled.

"Oh, Jack." David sat down on the bed next to Jack and sighed when Jack's arm settled on his shoulder.

"You're mad at me," Jack said in a small voice. "Do you hate me?"

"No," David said. "I don't hate you."

"But you swore!"

David could stop the chuckle that bubbled up at that – that swearing was like Jack's litmus test for how pissed off he was. "It's all right, Jack," he said. "I still don't hate you. And I won't swear anymore. You just – you know, we'll just talk about this later, okay?"

Jack sat back a little and looked at him intently, if more than a bit blearily. "Okay. Good." He nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until David stirred. "C'mon, let's get you in bed. You're going to feel like hell in the morning. Again."

But Jack was having a hard time sitting up straight. "Davey, Davey, Davey," he slurred, leaning against David's side.

"C'mon, Jack," David said again. He tried to get Jack off of him and laying down on the bed, but instead, Jack slid in closer, with the bonelessness of the very drunk. Their faces were very close together.

"Davey," Jack murmured again.

He leaned in, nearer and nearer, and for a brief, flashing instant, David felt that glorious comprehension of the moment when everything clicks and you suddenly realize, "Oh, this person is going to kiss me, yes, oh, thank you God!" Then Jack's mouth was on his, and yeah, it tasted like tequila and was a little too eager and David was fully aware that Jack was not fully aware of what he was doing. But he couldn't help it. For a few seconds, he kissed back.