Fic: A Really Bad Idea (RPS Jake/Van)

[nouveau_monday]

Title: A Really Bad Idea
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Van/Jake (and why yes, thank you, I am going to hell)
Rating: NC-17 BABY
Word Count: 4.5kish
Summary: Jake and Van discuss the merits of Bride & Prejudice. And then there is oral sex.
Spoilers: Umm ... RPS, so no.
Disclaimer: This is in no way true. Never was. Never will be. Jake and Van belong to themselves, not me. And this is all the fault of some people from Zomgwtf who suggested that we needed more RPS. And then someone suggested I try it, and then I did, and now I'm going to hell, but maybe people will enjoy the lovely decoration on the hand baskets.
Note #1: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta. Seriously, I have never been more thankful that someone volunteered to read my stuff ever. She was brave to do it that first time and I am forever appreciative and then some.
Note #2: This is the events that happen directly after I Dare You. I think it makes sense as a stand alone, but it's so much better with both of them together. The italics right after the cut are the end of the first part, so they'll look familiar if you read I Dare You first.

Van hated the whisper of his voice, rich with something he didn't want to name. "Dare."

Jake tucked one hand into the small of Van's back and skidded the other up to cup his chin. "Let me do this, just once. Please." He took the slightest nod as assent and tipped his head. Timid at first, Jake let his lips brush over Van's. There was no camera, no lights, no booms, no directions. There was beer and mint and that scent of Van. Jake touched the tip of his tongue to his friend's mouth and waited to be punched in the eye or the jaw or the balls. He pushed his luck and his mouth further, testing, waiting, being there.

"God, Jake. This is a bad idea." Van's hands fisted into Jake's hair and pulled him closer. He licked into his co-star's mouth and thought of a million reasons why this shouldn't be happening, why they shouldn't be doing this, and all of them seemed really really dumb. Urgency scorched across Van's senses and he wanted more and more. Jake tasted like honesty, sex and toothpaste. "A really bad idea."

"I know." Jake's voice faltered as he licked across Van's jaw and bit his ear. "But you started it." He sucked on Van's lower lip, slipped his tongue back in to memorize the feel of his mouth. "You've been daring me to do things almost since we met. And they kept getting more and more intense and then I realized that, well, this. I wanted this. Right here. My tongue in your mouth. Your hands on my skin. I wanted what Noah was too much of an idiot to get from Luke. And I was not about to one-upped by a character on a soap, even if I play him."

"Jake, stop talking. You talk too much. Just kiss me again before we both come to our senses. Go ahead." He winked. "I dare you."

*****

Van let his body go limp onto the couch and tumbled Jake on top of him. The weight and press of Jake's body was even better than he imagined; rough, strong, hard. They never got horizontal on set, and maybe there had been a good reason for that. It was difficult to say your lines convincingly while trying not to spontaneously orgasm. Or at least he imagined it would be. "A monumentally bad idea," he breathed, even as he let his fingers tangle in the slight curl of Jake's hair, tipped their mouths for a better angle.

"We covered that part already." Jake's lips shifted open. His tongue curled around Van's, slid over the roof of his mouth.

Beer and toothpaste and Jake, better than any of the awful things they had done to each other on set. No garlic, or chives or hot peppers or, god, what had he done that one day? Sardines. Man, he was awful. He couldn't help it. He laughed. He really had eaten sardines before that scene in the truck where Luke macked all over every part of Noah except his lips. No wonder they went over two hundred days without kissing.

"Want to let me in on the joke?" Jake had pulled back, sat up. He wiped his mouth while he frowned. "Was I? Did I do something wrong? It didn't feel like something wrong. I know we said this was a bad idea, but I didn't think you meant bad as in funny. I didn't even know that bad was synonymous for funny." He attempted to adjust the buttons on his shirt. His fingers drummed on his knee, and Van wanted to suck them into his mouth.

"Shit, no, I wasn't laughing at you." He tried to catch his breath. "I was thinking about the awful things we've done to each other. That everything bagel with garlic cream cheese and lox before that kiss where the Colonel walks in? You're a jackass, Silbermann. You deserved the sardines. And the jalapenos." Van tried to hide a giggle, would firmly deny it if ever asked, but Jake looked so worried still, not fully trusting that Van was telling the truth. He straddled Jake's lap, grabbed the fingers that he had admired moments before and wrapped them around his hips. "I think we might be making a big mistake, but I'm not laughing at you."

Jake's shoulders relaxed. His hands kneaded at the cotton of Van's shirt, slipped his thumbs under to rub against soft skin over hard muscle. "Promise?" He hated how his heart beat, couldn't stand how Van kept saying this was a bad idea. Because yeah, okay, monumentally stupid idea, but there it was. They were on his couch, legs entangled. The scent of Indian food filled the apartment. There was beer and Bollywood if he bothered to go through his DVDs. It didn't sound like a bad idea. It sounded a little bit like perfect. He let his hands move fully under clothes and over skin to splay across Van's abdomen.

"Promise." Van rocked his hips forward, spread his legs a little wider. He'd been kissing boys since he was seven, but with understanding since he was twelve. He needed to remind himself that this was new to Jake. He licked across his neck and bit right above his Adam's apple. Jake's low whimper made everything, and damned if he didn't mean it, everything that much harder. "This okay?"

"Very okay." Jake adjusted his hands to the small of Van's back, held him in place and thrust up at the same time. "You're the one talking too much now. I'm not a girl. I'm not going to break. I kissed your first, idiot." I did. Didn't I? I fucking kissed him first. Jesus. I am Noah. He dove head first into Van's gorgeous mouth. Teeth and tongue, sloppy wet and stupidly right, Jake wanted to beat his chest and purr simultaneously when he noticed Van's breath catch and his cock grow harder. He didn't let up until his brain pointed out that oxygen intake meant more chances for kisses whereas blacking out equaled nothing but a waste of time.

"I know you're not a girl." Van tugged one of Jake's shirts out from his belt, yanked at the buttons of the top one. "You wear too many clothes. And I do know you aren't a girl. I wouldn't be trying to get you naked if you were." He fought the last button with a flourish that sent it pinging across the wood floor, managed to shove up all their shirts and get them skin to skin. "Oh God." His eyes crossed behind his eyelids as he pressed his forehead to Jake's.

The dull edge of Jake's fingernails dug half-moon imprints at Van's back. His chest rocked forward until he couldn't get any closer to Van without being inside him. "You have a weird understanding of naked. I've seen you wearing less on camera." He scraped his teeth across Van's jaw. Stubble. Huh. That was different from anything he'd experienced recently. Not bad, but different. "And I'm pretty sure last time we were in a similar position you were commando."

Van's laugh caught Jake off guard, hit him behind the ribs, took up residency.

His fingers cupped Jake's face, tilted to reach his ear. Van's breath was warm as it eased over Jake's neck. "Who said I'm not commando now?" Van reached behind his back to grab Jake's hand. Not so subtly - but was there a need for that now? - he pushed Jake's fingers below his belt, behind his jeans, placed them so it was obvious that he wore nothing but denim. "Never assume anything. Didn't you learn that rule in elementary school?" He swiped his tongue across Jake's lips, jacked himself forward for emphasis. "I told you earlier I thought there was itching powder in the make up. Thought I was going to jump out of my skin during the shoot, couldn't bear the idea of more clothes than absolutely necessary." He wrinkled his face. "Anyway, I was coming over here to watch a movie with you and chill. Why did it matter what I was, or you know, wasn't wearing?" Shit. He was babbling. Why was he nervous? It wasn't like this was new to him.

Except Jake's cheeks were flushed and the blue of his eyes - which managed to look washed out on camera in comparison to now - were practically all black pupil. His lips were swollen. His breath ragged. Fuck if Van had ever seen anything hotter. He looked like porn personified. Crawling out of his skin didn't seem like a bad idea when Jake stared at him and said nothing. "What? Stop looking at me like that."

"You. You're here, sitting on me, and you're not wearing underwear."

Van smirked. "Hate to break it to you, Silbermann, but it's not like this is the first time. Can't stand it. I only wear it on set when the pants aren't mine. That'd be gross."

Jake slumped back against the sofa. All the times Van had poured himself into his lap after too much alcohol. The interviews and red carpet appearances where he had casually slung his arm over Van's hips. All those times that Jake had wanted to throw him against a wall and fuck him blind and the entire time ... His brain sort of exploded. His fingers traced the crack of Van's ass. He smiled at Van's shuddered response. "I had no idea."

"Apparently." The silence in the room emphasized the moment their stomachs grumbled. "We should eat, or something."

"I vote for or something." Jake's voice was extra low and rough. It curled Van's toes inside his sneakers.

"Me too, but," he stood up, winced at the tightness of his jeans. "I think we should eat. Pause for station identification and all that. When was the last time you ate?" He gave in to the urge to smooth Jake's shirts, run his fingers over his torso. "Coffee and a beer hardly count as a solid meal, even if you'd been drinking Guinness. Which you weren't. Also, we should, I don't know, talk about this? You think?"

Hell no. I think not. If Van thought about it, he might decide it was a bad idea again. That it shouldn't happen. Jake sighed. "I could eat. Kung Fu or Bollywood? I picked up Bride and Prejudice the other day. It's not authentic, but it's cute. And it has Aishwarya Rai in it." Right. See. He could play not desperate. This was fine. They had time. Surely this wasn't over? Right? Hell. "Umm, if I get up to get plates, you're not going to run out the door or anything? And maybe we can get back to the making out part also, after we eat?" His face burned. He stared at his shoes, the wall, wouldn't meet Van's face. Jake didn't remember the last time he'd wanted so strongly, been so out of his element.

"I'm not going anywhere. Luke may be a cock tease, but I'm not. Least of all with my own. Go get plates. And remember the napkins this time. I can start the movie. Darcy's a hottie."

"Are you serious? Darcy's a douchebag." Jake shook his head. "Want another beer?"

"People can be douches and still be hot. They're not mutually exclusive." A beer would have gone great with the spice and the tang of the food, and the movie, and the taste of Jake's mouth. "No beer! Uhhh, got a Pepsi in there?" Sober. He wanted sober. If this was going to be a one time thing, and honestly why wouldn't it be? Jake was straight, all evidence to the contrary. Van wanted to remember all of it. Shit. This really was a bad idea.

Caught up in his own head, Van missed the smile that spread across Jake's face. "I've got Pepsi."

In the kitchen Jake went straight to the refrigerator, opened the freezer and stuck his head in. His skin burned. His lungs hurt. Christ. His hands stuck to the ice tray, clamminess mocking him. He had kissed Van. A lot. Was he insane? He closed his lips together, the hint of mint and lip balm still there. The clink of the ice cubes in the glasses startled him. What was he doing? Plates, right. And napkins. And not beer. Even if Van said that it could never happen again, Jake would still have a sober memory of them kissing.

His stomach clenched. Clowns at the zoo. Axe-murdering clowns at the mother fucking zoo. Yeah, okay, pointless. Nothing after Van gyrating over him was ever going to work. Maybe if he dropped everything and went in and threw Van down on the couch ... Jake shook his head. Yeah, maybe Van would laugh at him and never speak to him again. He sighed, dug up a tray to put everything on, and headed back to brave his optimism and hope it held up next to whatever might go on in the living room.

*****

"How can you not like Darcy? Look at him, for fuck's sake." Van caught the end of his korma in a piece of naan. "You want Lalita to wind up with what's-his-face instead?" He shook his head. "You have no taste. And she's an idiot. She can't tell she's being played?" He licked his fingers. "Seriously?"

Jake swallowed. "Okay, first, shut up. Wickham, that's his name, knew what he was doing. She's out of her league. And Darcy's an idiot. You have the opportunity to go for Aishwarya Rai, you go for it. You just do. You don't listen to your best friend's sister when she's obviously a bitch who wants you for herself." He gulped more soda. "Also, second, you could stop licking your fingers at any point now, Hansis." He flushed. Hey, who needs beer when you can stick your foot in your mouth anyway? Not blushing like a fourteen year old virgin would also have been good.

"Like my fingers, do you, Jake?" Van sucked the last of the korma off the pad his middle finger, flashed a hint of teeth. "And just for the record, because I'm pretty sure we're done with the food portion of the evening, I wouldn't go for Lalita. And you know why?" He paused, touched his tongue to that same finger, watched Jake's hand tighten. "It's cause I'm gay."

"Oh." Jake's voice warbled a bit.

"Yeah. 'Oh.' So the point is that I don't get what's going on here exactly. Just got an itch to walk on the wild side? Wanna know how the other half lives?" He steeled himself, didn't want an answer. "I can work with that. I'm not usually into being someone's guinea pig, but you're not just anyone. And I get that it must be difficult to play Noah, and, I guess, not wonder a little." Van closed his eyes. This time the bite on his fingertip wasn't about seduction, but self-preservation. The thought of being anyone's experiment stung, but Jake's? Seeing him almost every day, having to break up and make up and now suddenly kiss on set. Maybe he couldn't do that. "We need boundaries though. A safe word or something. You're one of my best friends, Jake, and regardless of what goes down - or doesn't - tonight, we play a couple."

Jake hesitated. Van wasn't wrong about the work aspect being awkward if this went south. He wasn't wrong about not wanting to lose his best friend either, but ... "You're wrong." He clapped his palm to his mouth. Why did he keep speaking first and thinking second? Why?

"I'm wrong? No, I'm not. You're not leaving the show or anything? I know the contract stuff is up in the air, but that's bullshit. You'd have told me if you were leaving. Goutman would have told me that."

"Stop. Breathe. I'm not going anywhere on the show, or off it. That's not what you're wrong about." Jake pushed the coffee table further from them. He stacked Van's plate on top of his on the end table. "It is difficult to play Noah and not wonder, but not for the reasons you think. I had my big oh-my-god-I'm-gay freak out in ninth grade when the senior lead in Les Mis at my high school - Eric - pinned me against the inside of the stage left vom and stuck his tongue down my throat. Just because I wanted to act didn't mean I was gay. I thought it would be gross." He closed his eyes, lost in the memory. "But his hands were warm, and the scent of base on his skin nearly had me creaming myself. I was fifteen and Jean ValJean wanted to french me. Who was I to argue?" He shrugged. "We fooled around on and off until he graduated two months later. Eric's a math teacher in Oswego now, with a wife and two adorable girls. After that, there really wasn't anyone else I wanted. At least no guys. Chicks like me. They smell good; sweet and fruity. Easy, uncomplicated. I like easy. I like uncomplicated. I won't lie."

Jake slid off the couch, moved to kneel in front of Van. "You are none of those things. And you aren't Eric." He traced Van's cheekbones, the rasp of a five o'clock shadow, unbelievably beautiful lips. "All of that doesn't mean anything in the face of wanting to strip you bare and blow you until you come with my name on your lips and your hands pulling my hair." He reached up to Van's shocked face, focused on the brown of his eyes. "You think we can be done with the talking portion of this evening as well, and get on to the naked part?"

Van's heart pounded through Jake telling him he was wrong, wondered if it was possible that he was really the one following in the idiotic steps of his character and had fallen the fuck in love with the straight guy. But no. He refused. He hadn't done that since he was fifteen. So, again, no. Not going to happen. This was just a weird dry spell. He was confusing acting with something real. Which he never did. But again, whatever, because he was not in love with Jake, was emphatically, categorically not in love with his co-star.

His co-star whose words were starting to penetrate his brain. Had he just said - ? Van gasped. Did Jake really - ? Jesus, maybe he was having a heart attack? His left arm wasn't hurting, but his ribs were threatening to exit like the alien out of Sigourney Weaver's stomach if Van didn't get his heart under control. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." Jake worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

And if that wasn't a sign that they spent too much time together? "Jake, this is a bad idea. Monumentally bad. You know that? We're risking a lot." Van was stalling. They both knew it. He carded his fingers through Jake's hair, imagined pulling it, guiding him over his cock. Christ.

"Yep. I know all that. You've said it at least a million times in the last four hours." Something sparked in Jake's eyes, blue turning bluer. "But think about what we could gain?" He fumbled with Van's belt buckle, grinned when he got past it and made quick work of the top button. "Please?" He stroked shaky fingers over Van's stomach, tangled his way into the hair beneath his navel. His eyes never left Van's.

Van's pulse slammed. Electricity danced inside his abdomen. He needed Jake's mouth now. Right now. Yesterday. Two hundred plus days ago when he'd first melted under the strength of one fake kiss. Desperate, Van licked into Jake's mouth, swallowed their mutual sounds with his tongue. Unconscious of his actions, Van canted his hips to help Jake unzip his jeans. His body froze at the first quick touch of Jake's fingers. After almost a year together on and off set, Van was intimately familiar with each callus, but not with them there. He panted against Jake's mouth, reveled in the taste of curry, pakora and Pepsi. "Nnngh," was the best verbal cue he could offer as touches became strokes.

"Off, off," Jake muttered. "Clothes off."

There was no style, no rhyme nor reason. Van's shoes went god knows where and his pants were around his ankles. He tugged his shirt over his head and clawed at Jake's. "You too. I'm not going to be the only one naked here." He took the opportunity to free his legs and nearly swallowed his own tongue when he looked up. Jake stood in front of him, tall and pale. His muscles tightened like some sort of jungle cat as he dropped to his knees with that same controlled grace.

"Let me do this." Jake grazed his lips over Van's nipple even as he palmed open his thighs. "So hot." He tongued across Van's chest, encouraged by how not weird chest hair felt against his cheek after all this time.

"Hotter than Aishwarya Rai?"

"Man, yes. Way hotter." Jake bit hard at Van's collar bone. "There aren't even words." He soothed the pain of his teeth with a swipe of his tongue while his hands spread Van's legs further apart. Jake sprinkled kisses across Van's chest, his sides, explored every sound he could elicit with a glance of teeth or a swipe of tongue. He licked a circle around Van's belly button even as his fist curled around his dick. "Haven't done this in over ten years, so tell me if I hurt you or do something wrong."

Van nodded frantically, unable to find vocal abilities and trying desperately not to shove Jake onto his cock. His desire must have been evident by Jake's gritty chuckle as it blazed over Van's skin.

"Thank you," Van thought he heard, but how could that make sense when Jake's tongue lathed a path from his balls to his slit before he enveloped the crown in hotwetperfect. Jake's hands shifted to Van's back, edged him forward, deeper into the hollow-cheeked suction of his mouth.

"Oh Jesus," Van whispered. His fingernails bit into Jake's shoulder. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

Jake did something with his tongue that Van's scrambled nerves couldn't explain before he pulled off. "It's Jake, not Jesus, but I guess that's close enough." He nuzzled sweat sticky hair against Van's wrists, bit at the tender skin where his veins burned.

"Asshole."

"I preferred Jesus." Jake crouched lower, mouthed over Van's balls, press his tongue just under them, not moving, more resting against them. He adjusted his hands to Van's inner thighs, rubbed his thumbs over sensitive skin.

Van's fingers pulled at Jake's hair. Screaming 'move already' seemed tacky, but god damn! He jerked his hips, whimpered something that maybe sounded like please.

"I got you. Always got you." Jake ran a wet line of kisses back to the head of Van's cock. He adjusted his jaw, opened the inside of his mouth somehow. Then he was deep throating Van, his nosed pressed into the wiry curls of his pubic hair and his throat compressing all around him.

Van threw his head back, latched his hands into Jake's scalp. He couldn't control his movements, fucked his way past any concern for Jake's non-existent gag reflex. "Jesus, Jake. Jesus. God."

Jake hummed deep in his throat and sent tremors from Van's hair to his toenails. He shifted his hand on Van's thigh, so on the next bob of his head, he coated Van's dick and his own finger. Jake withdrew the finger, but focused his mouth on the vein underneath the head of Van's cock. He flattened his tongue, coaxed more pre-come from him on each stroke.

The urgent tug on Van's hip almost threw him. The pause in Jake's motions nearly made him see double. "Don't you dare stop now," he threatened as Jake actually pulled off again.

"I'm not. Just needed something is all." He coated his index finger in the slick of Van's pre-come. "I didn't have proper lube," he said by way of explanation.

"Jake? You don't... I mean... What are you doing?" Van held Jake's head in place. "Seriously."

Jake dipped his finger behind Van's testicles, circled around his hole. "Somewhere between me wanting you naked and sucking your dick, did you, like, have a stroke or get amnesia?" He tested resistance, pressed the tip of his finger into Van and simultaneously swallowed him again.

Van's body didn't know whether to shove forward or back and his lungs shuddered in his chest. "Christ. I'm. Oh god. Jake, Jake, Jake." He gasped.

Jake responded by fucking his finger further into him and flicking his tongue right there.

God, was that? Oh shit. The hint of teeth Van would bet was an accident was the last straw. He broke with a shout, balls tightening, cock pouring come down Jake's throat. He craned his neck forward to watch as his friend? co-star? lover? gulped down what he could and continued to suck him through the aftershocks.

Van pet at Jake's biceps, his shoulders, his hair. He traced around Jake's eyes when he stared at him, his face as Jake eased off his now softening cock.

"That was -" Van scrounged for a word but came up empty.

"It really was." Jake smiled. "Everything I wanted."

"Oh." Van tried to focus past his own post-orgasmic state with minimal success. "You. I want to-" he gestured with his hand in the direction of Jake's dick.

"I, uhh, took care of that."

Van frowned. "That doesn't seem fair."

Jake shifted, shy all of a sudden, aware of how naked they both were. "The night isn't over yet." He shivered. "I've, umm, got another TV in my bedroom. Want to curl up in there with me and the X-Men?"

Van held out his hand to help Jake up from the ground. His hand trembled and his heart caught in his throat. "That sounds like the best idea so far."



Final Installment