Disclaimer: The following is not meant to imply anything about the true lives of the celebrities mentioned. If you do not wish to read about homosexual themes, if you are underage, or if reading this kind of material is illegal where you live, please do not read on.
Inspired by Izzy. She's the man.
UNLIKELY UNIONS 2 --UNEXPECTED DISCOVERIES By Neqs
Marshall sighed as he put down his glass. He tried to cheer himself up with the thought that at least he'd managed to just put it down instead of shattering it into the wall-to-wall mirror behind the bar. Yep, the anger management classes were definitely taking effect.
Dre had been insistent that he attend the classes, threatening him with fines and contractual penalties if he didn't. Normally Marshall would have fought tooth and nail, and he still did so for appearances' sake, but this time he'd sort of realized that he needed help.
He'd done a lot of thinking, talked to some professionals, and come to terms with the fact that it had been his violent behavior that had caused him to lose...Lance. Marshall still felt a stab of arousal and longing when he thought of the man, but it was now mixed with regret and dawning acceptance.
He was...gay. He'd had a crush on another man and had sex with him. And he was slowly, grudgingly admitting to himself that there was nothing wrong with that.
The idea had seemed so alien and disgusting to him before he met Lance...and before fell under the low-voiced Mississippian's spell, had lots of mind-blowing sex with him, and started to have some frighteningly tender emotions for him.
That had been the breaking point. He could have handled just fucking another man; sure, the thought was slightly disgusting but he'd done a lot of fucked-up things before. But when he suddenly wanted to caress the soft, pale skin instead of bruising and squeezing and using, he'd panicked. Freaked out. Recoiled in fear and denial.
Things were a lot clearer now. The anger management person had referred him to a counselor who'd referred him to a psychiatrist. Hours and hours of talking about his feelings for Lance (denial, attraction, fear, subliminal wish for friendship, feelings of inferiority), Dre (deference, anger, jealousy, dependency), and his mother (anger, love, guilt, bitterness, betrayal), and he felt like he knew himself a little better. He wasn't so afraid of being...gay anymore.
That didn't make him any less lonely. He didn't feel murderous rage around Lance and Dre anymore, but it still hurt to see their deep affection for each other. During the past few months he'd apologized and made his peace with Lance. It had been Dre who'd had more trouble forgiving him. Slowly, their relationship had been patched up, and Marshall had also forged a new, tentative friendship with Lance.
It was strange how happy people wanted others around them to be happy too. Still, the lovebirds' efforts to make Marshall socialize among their circle of friends made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't ready to face a group of people when he was just beginning to face himself.
The bars he frequented were excellent places for avoiding people. They were shady, full of dark corners where he could hide from the world and its unsettling truths. The truth always found him though, either at the bottom of a bottle or on the surface of an untouched drink. Marshall was starting to realize that it wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, because it was a part of him. If he tried to deny it, it would just lurk under the surface, making him feel miserable and despondent.
Ha! They didn't think he knew that kind of words, but he did. He wasn't stupid. He knew stuff. No one just expected him to know anything, and because he hadn't been made to, he'd held back from trying new things in fear of failure. It was so much easier to revel in ignorance instead of trying and failing and maybe looking stupid that way. If he were aggressive enough, no one would think to demand things from him, things he couldn't give.
That had worked, maybe a little too well. He had gotten what he'd asked for. People had this certain image of him that he'd helped to create. If he now said he thought opera was cool or that he'd really like to try that wine-and-cheese thingy, he'd get laughed at. Sometimes he felt like he wanted to know more, be more, but he just couldn't figure out a way to achieve that without being patronized or lectured at.
'Okay, that's enough moping,' he decided. He definitely needed to get laid. He looked around. This was the first time he was actively checking out guys with the intention of hooking up. It felt...odd. He suddenly felt vulnerable and uncertain. He didn't really know how to hook up with a guy. Lance had been the one to approach him, and had been in charge until they got to the bedroom. Okay, maybe getting laid could wait. He was drunk, and how could he know which guys he could trust? And he really didn't feel like getting turned down tonight.
Feeling very small and depressed, Marshall crouched down in his seat. Wanting to get out of the bar quickly, he emptied his glass with a grimace and strode out without looking back.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man had brown hair and blue eyes, and he was skinny as fuck. Marshall bit back an irritated growl.
"That's okay. No harm done and all that shit." He was surprised when the man was still there when he looked up a minute later.
"I know you...you're Eminem, aren't you?" Marshall was just about to bite the guy's head off when he continued. "Lance told me about you. May I sit down?" Marshall started and stared the guy before nodding mutely.
"In case you don't recognize me, my name is JC, but please call me Josh. I'm Lance's band mate?" The last was said in a hesitant tone, as Marshall just sat and stared.
"Marshall."
"What?"
"You can call me Marshall."
"Oh, thanks."
"So, what did Lance say about me?"
"Oh, only good things. That you really helped him clear his thoughts about things and that you're a really good lay."
Marshall almost choked on his drink. This was Lance's ex-boyfriend, the shy one? Didn't fucking well sound like it!
Josh looked worried when he pounded Marshall's back. "Easy there, man. Maybe this place isn't good for you; it's full of cigarette smoke. You could trigger a horrible asthma attack just by being here. I was just going to the jazz club across the street, you want to join me?"
Still a little dazed, Marshall followed the slim, energetic man out of the bar.
By the third glass of wine Marshall had regained the use of his tongue and was lazily arguing with Josh about the band playing. He didn't know shit about jazz, but he didn't let that stop him from making derogatory comments about the music.
"They're making it up as they go along, aren't they?" Josh just shook his head in exasperation and laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. Marshall knew he was being annoying, but the other man didn't seem mad or bothered, just amused. It felt sort of nice, not to be looked down to, or looked up to. He felt like he was being looked at sideways with a coy smile, and that was...nice. He thought he might be drunk.
"I think I might be gay." Huh?
"Well duh!" The merry sound of Josh's amusement drifted to his ears even through the fog of alcohol.
"Excuse me?"
"From hearing Lance talk I'd pretty much figured you were gay. And your lyrics, man. In denial much? Doing drag in three videos was a dead giveaway too. And I'm sure you didn't notice that you check the ass of every guy who walks past, either." Josh was rolling his eyes good-naturedly, but Marshall was still upset.
"I, uh, I don't-" He spluttered for a while before dropping his head to the tabletop and giving it a few bangs. Then he rubbed his temples wearily and locked gazes with the now-serious singer.
"No, I didn't notice that. I've...I've been having some issues with the gay thing, and I'm pretty new to it. I'm a fucking mess. Lance was the first guy I fucked and now he's fucking Dre."
"Oh. Do you...never mind. Have you talked to them about this?"
"Not much. They're so fucking happy together, they don't need to hear what's going on in my fucked-up head. Plus they want me to be happy too, so of course they figure I need to settle down with a nice guy, and I'm just..."
"Not ready." Marshall's eyes shot up from the dull, scratched surface of the table to meet the compassionate, intensely blue gaze. The silence hang in the air like smoke. The effect was almost dizzying.
"Yeah." It was suddenly important to have someone who understood. "Dre would just tell me to deal, he never hesitates in this sort of thing. Besides, he's not totally over me hitting Lance yet." As soon as the words stumbled out of his mouth Marshall wanted to take them back. He'd ruined it. Again. He hunched his shoulders and started to draw back, but a slim hand with long, slender fingers on his wrist stopped him.
"Marshall." Josh waited until he met his eyes before continuing. "I already knew about the hitting thing. Lance told me all about it, and while I think violence is wrong, I won't turn my back on you just because of this." Josh's gaze was as steady as Marshall's was uncertain.
"Why?"
"Why am I not angry with you? Why am I here with you?" At Marshall's nod, the brunette leaned forward, keeping eye contact. "It's because I think you've suffered enough. What you did was wrong, and you understand that. You've paid for it, and I'm pretty sure you'll never do it again. Am I right?"
"Yeah. I was fucked up, but that's no excuse. Anyway, it's pretty ironic, don't you think?" Marshall tried to alleviate the tension and change the subject, but Josh just smiled faintly and looked at him with those warm, piercing eyes.
"If you say so. I bet it didn't feel very funny at the time, though. But yeah, I don't bear you any grudge. I think you're a good guy who's had some bad stuff happen to him. Friends?"
Marshall looked at the proffered hand like it was a strange life form. He shook it with gentle pressure, not wanting to come off as aggressive, and laughed when Josh pretended to crush his hand. This seemed like the start of a beautiful friendship.
It was. Marshall couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much without being high. Sure, sometimes he was pleasurably tipsy, like the time they split the bottle of a ridiculously expensive red wine and almost passed out on his sofa. They had so much fun.
The night they went to the opera was the best. Marshall had thought it might be weird, all those people screaming really high and wearing costumes, but it was amazing. He hadn't known human voices could go so high.
"What the fuck was that?" he whispered to Josh, never taking his eyes off the stage. He never saw the other man's fond smile.
"The Aria of the Queen of the Night. It's one of the highest pieces you can find in an opera. Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, glancing towards the stage but otherwise keeping his gaze on Marshall.
"Beautiful." The awe-filled whisper was almost lost in the voices soaring up to their balcony, but Josh caught it, and held it.
Lance didn't appreciate being dragged from their bed at 3:26 AM to answer the door. He would have let Dre stay asleep except for the fact that he was unable to extract himself from their jumble of limbs without rousing his lover.
"Wha-- Where are you going?" A sleepy Dre was a cute and sexy Dre, so Lance took the time to kiss him properly before continuing towards the door.
"Someone's at the door. Probably Marshall, there aren't many people that security would let through this time of the night."
Lance was proven right when a notably disheveled Marshall Mathers swept past him into the house, pacing a few moments before throwing himself onto the sofa. Lance rubbed his eyes and sighed, but followed the distraught rapper to the sitting area and seated himself on the sofa opposite to Marshall's.
"What's going on, Marshall?" he asked, trying to make his tired eyes focus in the dim light. "It's half past three in the morning, you know. Couldn't this have waited until, I don't know, daybreak?"
"No!" Marshall uttered his first word since his arrival. "I mean, I don't know. Fuck, I'm so confused!"
"About what?" Lance was puzzled. It wasn't like Marshall to share his feelings so openly. "Has something happened? Are you all right?" He was worried now; Marshall looked very upset, and even though he'd seemed to be improving over the past few months, Lance knew his newfound serenity was still fragile.
"He has really long legs, you know? Of course you know; you dated him for fuck's sake! He's so slim and flexible, but he's got muscle too, he's strong under that smooth, tanned skin...and the things he can do with his long fingers, God! When I first saw him I thought he looked skinny and weird, but now...it's sometimes difficult to breathe around him, I'm so amazed by the way his mind works. He's so fucking nice to people, but he's sexy too...damn!"
Lance could only sit and blink. Marshall sounded like he was having a nervous breakdown, and it took Lance a few seconds to digest his words.
"What? I mean, who?"
"Josh, of course! Who did you think I was fucking talking about?"
"Josh? My Josh? JC?"
"He's not your Josh anymore."
Lance cleared his throat. "No, he isn't, hasn't been for several months now. So, I take it you two hooked up?"
At this point, a disgruntled-looking Dre padded down the stairs and joined Lance on the sofa. He pulled Lance to lean against his chest, gave him a quick kiss, and settled down to listen.
"We met in some bar and got talking. He was funny, and different from most people I know, so it was nice hanging out with him. I could really talk to him, about being gay, about all the things I always wanted to do but was too chicken to. I...I thought we were friends." Marshall sounded so lost, it was all Lance could do not to go to him and wrap him in a hug.
"There were supposed to be no strings attached, just friends with benefits. I screwed up...I think I'm addicted to him. His voice, his touch, his fucking taste...God! I didn't have a chance, really. He might seem quiet and sweet, but he's a devious, and immoral, and an animal in the sack."
"Are you sure we're talking about the same person here? That doesn't sound like the Josh I know."
"Well maybe you don't really know him at all! You just used him for sex and mocked him when he tried to do nice things for you. He deserves someone who understands that underneath that harmless exterior he's sex and passion and all the things that shine. Someone who..." Marshall stopped talking and grew still, mulling over what he'd said and what he'd been about to say.
"Someone who what?" Lance's voice was quiet and gentle.
"Someone who loves him," Marshall choked out. He raised his glistening gaze to his friends, the line of his jaw tight and stubborn.
"Oh, Marshall, that's great!" Lance was thrilled that Marshall had found someone to love.
Marshall huffed, and to a critical observer, the sound might have resembled a sniffle. "Nothing great about it. Fucked it up, once again."
"You didn't..." The eyes that met Dre's were dark with pent-up emotion.
"Of course I didn't! The fuck-dull therapy was good for something at least. No, I didn't hit him. I just panicked. Left him sleeping in my bed and took off. Drove around for a few hours and ended up here."
Lance arched an eyebrow and cleared his throat. "Well, in that case it's very much possible that he's still there. It's not even four in the morning yet," he concluded with a yawn.
Marshall's eyes lit up and he sat up straighter. "Fuck! You're right! Maybe I haven't ruined it yet. I'll go home straight away and tell him that I...that I love him." He swallowed at the prospect of laying bare his deepest feelings, but he wouldn't ruin his happiness, not this time around. "I know he feels something for me...he's not as tough as he thinks he is," he added with a tender smile. "I just need to show him that it's for real."
As Marshall stood up to leave Lance stopped him. "Wait. I think we have something here that you might need." He went to a drawer and removed a little square box that looked a little shabby. "The pool boy found it a few months back. We had no idea where it could have come from at first, but then I remembered...I'm really sorry, Marshall. I didn't realize you felt so strongly about me."
Marshall's eyes were haunted when he stared at the box. Ha barked a mirthless laugh. "Neither did I. It was...difficult, but I'm over it." The last part seemed to raise an echo inside him, and he cocked his head as if to listen. "That's right, I'm over it. I still love you, but only as a friend, as Dre's better half, and as a band mate of the man I love." He laughed, but this time it was a joyous sound filled with wonder. "Hell, I'm in love. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see about this guy in my bed."
Without another look at the scruffy ring box, Marshall strode out of the house, leaving a stunned Lance and Dre in his wake. They turned to look each other in the eye, and slowly broke into ecstatic grins. Lance wrapped his arms around his lover's neck and kissed him deeply.
"This is so wonderful! I never thought I'd be this happy to hear someone got over me, or that my ex-boyfriends fell in love and got together!"
Dre chuckled at Lance's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I think it's great too. Maybe Josh will help keep him balanced. I only met the guy once but he seemed pretty stable." Lance swallowed a guffaw caused by Dre's last comment and just nodded his agreement. JC was...eccentric to say the least. He tried to picture JC with Marshall but failed utterly.
"Are you sorry he's over you?" Dre's complete non sequitur made Lance grow serious.
"No, not really. I never knew he liked me THAT much in the first place, so I can't miss what I never knew I had. Besides, I've got you, Babe. What more could I need?"
Dre growled into the kiss that followed, truly content now that Marshall had finally found someone to love, someone who wasn't Lance. He pulled back gently and guided his younger lover back to their bed, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before dawn.
Marshall tiptoed into his bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake up Josh. He jumped when a light was switched on.
"Hi." JC's face was somber and wary as he stood by the windows. He looked like he's been awake for a while. "Where did you go? Not that I have any right to ask," he added with a self.deprecating twist to his lips. Marshall's heart sank as he saw JC's withdrawn expression and defensive pose.
"No, you have every right to ask. I...I just realized something and freaked out. I went for a ride to clear my head." He placed his load on the bedside table without breaking eye contact.
JC glanced at the items and smiled faintly, his eyes instantly warmer. "So what did you realize?" he asked, leaning against the windowpane with casual grace. The first light of dawn was breaking through the window behind him, and for a moment Marshall was breathless with awe and tenderness, among dozens of other emotions. He held out his hand and was grateful when JC came to him. He gently tumbled them on the bed, coiling his arms around the lithe brunette and burrowing his face against sweet-smelling hair.
"Immlovwiu." The confession was muffled against JC's neck.
"What?" JC asked with laughter in his voice. Marshall growled. If the other man was laughing, he'd definitely heard him. On the other hand, now that he'd sort of said it once, the next time would be a little easier.
"I, uh, damn. I sorta kinda maybe love you. Fuck, nothing sorta kinda maybe about it. I love you, okay? And if you laugh at me again I swear I'll..."
But JC wasn't laughing. There was something simultaneously tremulous and victorious around his mouth, and there was a strange light dancing in his eyes amidst some suspicious moisture, but JC definitely wasn't laughing at him.
"So what's this?" JC was pointing to the things Marshall had brought.
"I just wanted to give you some, I don't know, tokens of my love." Marshall was even more embarrassed now.
"You wanted to buy my affections with Chinese food and flowers?"
"Hey! No need to insult Chinese food. And I picked the flowers myself from the park while I was waiting for the order to be ready."
"Aw, you stole me flowers and brought me Chinese. Now I know you love me," JC cooed jokingly, kissing Marshall with nothing but due solemnity and dedication.
"There's Spring Rolls too," Marshall gasped, still out of breath after the kiss.
"Oh, yes! I love you, Marshall Mathers, you know that?"
"Yeah, I think I do," Marshall said gruffly, but the corners of his lips were curling upwards in a show of unmistakable ease and contentment as he watched his lover eat.
THE END
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