Irredeemable

[SpamKey]

So as I did previously imply (and by imply, I of course mean state outright ) Jason, of asshole ex-boyfriend and drunken fistfight fame, is going to have a redemption arc. So I of course titled the story "Irredeemable." Naturally.

At any rate, I am (again) taking a good bit of inspiration from Kaze; lots of pining, lots of angst, and just generally drawn out romantic tension. You know; the fun stuff . I'm also drawing inspiration from her use of lyrics as chapter titles, since a lot of this story came to me while listening to music. So... Yeah. That's... Yeah.

Oh, and it's a coffee shop romance. Because who doesn't love a good coffee shop romance?

---

Chapter One: And I Love the Way you Hurt Me (It's Irresistible)

 

The Tigerlily Café and Bakery wasn’t the most popular of the Tran family’s establishments. It wasn’t even the most profitable. But it was Will’s; Will’s to run, to work, to manage as he saw fit. The only real thing Will had, if he was honest with himself.

 

So perhaps, given Will’s love for his little café, it was rather surprising that he didn’t take personal offense to one of his employee’s obvious scorn for the place.

 

Maybe it was because Will could relate to Jason’s situation; the guy had been an up-and-coming digital artist working for a rather successful advertising firm, when he had been laid off without warning. No one was hiring, and he was forced to downgrade from his career of choice to a part-time barista in a café and whatever freelance work he could scrounge up, all in the course of a few weeks.

 

Having in his possession not only a business degree, but years of culinary experience and the certification to land him work as a chef in any five-star restaurant in the city, and yet still running a small, insignificant café near the city hospital, Will could definitely relate to Jason’s indignation. Did Will love the Tigerlily? Yes. Did Will quietly wish he could do better? Hell yes.

 

So as long as Jason’s frustration never expressed itself as poor customer service, Will could tolerate the man’s less-than-enthusiastic attitude. Plus, he was hot enough that Will wasn’t sure if anyone would notice him being rude in the first place. All he had to do was flash that sardonic, “get a load of this guy” smirk, roll those sapphire eyes, and slightly muss up that perfect blond hair, and whosoever the target may be would swoon, with an approximately 94.7% success rate. Will knew that for certain. Rosie, one of the other baristas, was a statistics student at the local community college, and she’d been keeping track.

 

The Tigerlily offered a bona-fide, stereotypical café experience. Complete with hot, out-of-your-league baristas who ignored your unwanted advances with a polite smile that only left you wanting more. Hiring Jason Carmine had been a no-brainer for Will. The fact that he managed to be professional, despite his clear distaste for the job, was just one more point in his favor.

 

Of course, Will slowly, over the course of the six months Jason had worked at the Tigerlily, came to realize that the only reason his new barista could maintain that professional image at work was because he was working out all his frustrations at home.

 

Normally, Will didn’t take much interest in his employees’ home lives; but Rosie was disgusted, Marco was a gossip, and Will couldn’t help but feel concerned for the sad-looking boyfriend who sometimes came in to see Jason at work; the one Jason always greeted with a belligerent comment and a kiss. Will always wanted to say something, but could never work up the nerve. Three months later, when Jason started showing up for work on Mondays with a mild hangover and the boyfriend stopped showing up at all, Will kind of wished he had.

 

Another three months, and Jason finally stopped drinking so much during the weekend (or so Will presumed, from the conspicuous lack of ache in Jason’s head on Mondays). His attitude became less frustrated and indignant, and more resigned to his fate. Rosie forgot her anger over Jason’s treatment of his boyfriend. Marco found other things to talk about. Will continued pretending that Jason’s smirk didn’t make him blush like a middle schooler about to ask his crush out to the big dance. Things fell into a sort of not-quite-unpleasant monotony.

 

Until the day Will had to send Jason home early with a nasty cold.

 

---

 

“Oh thank god you’re here.”

 

Will raised an eyebrow as he hung up his hoodie in the break room; Rosie, usually kind and collected, if a little bit prone to a holier-than-thou attitude, was biting her lip, running a hand through her long hair (dyed sunset orange this week, Will noted; dark at the top, light at the tips, surprisingly tasteful, considering Rosie’s track record) and shifting from foot to foot.

 

“What’s up?” He asked the obvious question, grabbing the apron that served as their only semblance of uniform (their logo, a simple silhouette of a lily was embroidered on the chest) and tying it around his waist. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t an emergency, or else Rosie would’ve called instead of waiting for him to get here, so Will was only mildly concerned.

 

“It’s Jason.” It was difficult to make a sigh sound both concerned and annoyed at the same time, but Rosie gave it her best shot. “You have got to talk some sense into him. I would but, uh…”

 

“But, uh…?” Will prompted when Rosie trailed off, looking suddenly embarrassed. The student bit her lip and tugged her hair again.

 

“Look, I--I know it’s a little ridiculous, but--It’s not that I’m not concerned, it’s just--I-I just don’t want to go near him right now, okay?!” She stammered, not meeting Will’s increasingly confused gaze. “I know, I’m a total bitch, but--it is like, the one thing I cannot handle.”
 

“What is?” Will asked patiently. Rosie grimaced, still not making eye contact.

 

“Germs, okay? I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t handle it, I’m already going to have to waste our entire supply of sanitizing wipes as it is--”

 

“Jason’s sick?” Will interrupted Rosie’s ramble. Startled, she nodded. Will offered a reassuring smile. “Nobody’s gonna fault you for a little germophobia, Rose. Head on out and start cleaning up the front counter, get it ready to open. Send Jason back to me.” He added when Rosie looked apprehensive.

 

“Thanks, Will.” She sighed, relieved, and quick-walked out to the main part of the café. Will, for his part, waited in the tiny room he’d claimed as his office when he’d taken over management of the Tigerlily three years ago. A minute later, there was a knock at the open door.

 

Will glanced up and (to his chagrin) felt his heart skip a beat; leave it to Jason Carmine to look gorgeous while sick as hell. The feverish flush only accentuated his well-defined cheekbones, his bright-blue eyes were no less striking for their exhausted glaze, and the slightly scruffier than usual 5 o’clock shadow did not diminish his charm in the slightest. Even a sniffly, bright-red nose was almost cute on Jason’s face.

 

Okay, okay, maybe Will was a little biased. But still.

 

“You wadted do see be?”

 

Oh, lord, that gruff, raspy voice will be the death of me, Will thought. “Yeah, sit down a sec, Jason.” Was what he said out loud, thanking whatever higher power had control over such things that his voice came out relatively normal and not a squeak.

 

Jason, sniffling congestedly, sat down in one of the two chairs Will kept in front of his desk, usually for interviews or the like. Will leaned forward and tapped the mostly-full tissue box that sat at the edge of the desk; grimacing, Jason took one, muttering his thanks before blowing quickly.

 

“You know, when you’re in the food business, it’s considered common courtesy to take the day off work when you feel like shit.” Will remarked mildly. Jason smirked his trademark, swoon-worthy smirk whose power was, impossibly, not diminished by lips chapped from mouth-breathing.

 

“Did’t have a fever. Figured I should cobe id adyhh--adyway-h-hold od--PSHCHHHuhh! Hihihh-ehh-EPSHHHhhuh!” Jason quickly snagged a few tissues and sneezed harshly into them, jerking with the effort. Blowing quickly in the aftermath, he tossed the tissue clump away and winced. “Uh. ‘Scuse be.”

 

“Bless you, it’s fine.” Will offered a smile that he hoped was sympathetic and not at all dopey/flirty. Now really wasn’t the time. “Look, fever or no, you really shouldn’t come into work sick. You do know you haven’t used a single one of your sick days yet, right?”

 

Jason laughed roughly. “I forgod how good the health plad was. You sure you dod’t deed be here? We’re usually busy od Bondays.”

 

“I’ll text Marco, tell him it’s time to start making up for all the shifts he’s had Rosie cover.” Will waved off Jason’s concerns. Marco was famous for taking the day off for any ailment, from pneumonia to a slight headache. “Seriously, Jason, it’s fine. Go home, get some rest.”

There was a flicker of--of something, in Jason’s gaze when Will said the word “home.” But before Will could pinpoint it, Jason was smiling gratefully, promising to get some rest, and making his way out the door. As soon as he was out of sight (with a final “HHh-PSHCHhhuh!” on his way out), Will sighed, running a hand over his face (careful not to mess up his intricately-drawn eyeliner in the process).

 

Jason was, by definition, the most inconvenient of crushes. For one thing, he had a clear history of less-than-stellar relationships; and Will had a clear history of being taken advantage of.

 

Diverting his mind from that train of thought before it could get going, Will went over reason number two; Jason was about as close to irresistible as you could get. He was just Will’s type, all muscles and striking good looks, sardonic and witty, a flirt. Just about every box was ticked on Will’s crush list. It made staying professional all that much harder.

 

Will’s hand traveled from his face to his hair; over the fuzzy, shaved sides, to the fluffy top, tipped with light blue dye (a style he’d reluctantly picked up from Rosie).

 

That brought up problem number three; Will was Jason’s superior. Striking up romantic relations would be wholly inappropriate. Will was a lot of things; a chef, a baker, a barista, an amateur musician. But a professional always had to be at the top of that list. It was the Tran family motto; business first, family second, pleasure last. He’d spent too many hours listening to his father’s lectures to let the lesson slide just because his heart raced at the mere presence one of his employees.

Will jumped at the sound of an alarm going off on his phone; pulling it out of his pocket, he cursed quietly. 7 AM; opening time. Quickly fixing his ruffled hair, he dashed out to the main café, and shot Marco a quick text telling him to get his ass in here to cover someone else’s shift for once.

 

---

 

Sorry this bit was so exposition-heavy I swear the next part will be less, eh... Wordy, shall we say? Btw, this takes place directly before the "Loneliness" drabble over in my drabble thread; the drabble is what happens when Jason gets home.  I'm mean, I know. Lemme know what you think about Will! The story will be told (for the most part) from his point of view.

Edited March 8, 2016 by SpamKey

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

1 hour ago, SpamKey said:

At any rate, I am (again) taking a good bit of inspiration from Kaze; lots of pining, lots of angst, and just generally drawn out romantic tension. You know; the fun stuff . I'm also drawing inspiration from her use of lyrics as chapter titles, since a lot of this story came to me while listening to music. So... Yeah. That's... Yeah.

Oh, and it's a coffee shop romance. Because who doesn't love a good coffee shop romance?

Heh, well thanks again Also nice with lyrics as chapter titles, nearly all of my stuff does that.  And yeah I can think of a few people who like coffee house romance.

Interesting first chapter, definitely wondering where you'll take this since not often is one of the MC's already crushing on the other.  Considering what Jason did to my Dr Hot Guy I dont know if I'm ready to forgive him yet   Here's hoping Will doesn't bite off more then he can chew.

[toastytoast]

Ahhhh dude great start can't wait for more!!!

[starpollen]

OH yeah.  I'm SO into where this is going! 

[SomethingClever]

Ooh I quite enjoy this! I haven't read it's companion piece but I'm gonna have to make that happen now! Something about coffee shops that just makes an ideal setting for this kind of thing

[Juto]

SPAMKEY OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!!!!

Ahhhh I'm not sure my Cutie-Lab-Tech-Nick-feels are quite ready to forgive and redeem Master Dick-Face-EX-BF-Jason yet.... But knowing you, you'll have me feeling sorry for the jerk soon enough  

That being said... Having seen Jason (and now imagining him all red-nosed and feverish, ahem, *flails*) and your adorable new piece of toy in the shape of Will Tran, this can only be good  

I'm more than excited to see where this goes. 

*Offers your muse a ride-on-a-nimbus-2000-coupon, hoping that it will make her cooperate longer than usual*

 

[AngelEyes]

Fantastic. As others have previously mentioned, I'm still dubious about jerk!Jason. But I'm totally digging lovely!Will. Yum.

[Arty]

Ah!!!! I remember jason!!! Should I forgive him..idk but like Juto said, you're gonna make me feel for him. I kinda do a bit with him bring an artist but still...I reserve judgment. Lol.

[aaylasecura]

I love it, i love angst 

[somuchfog]

To agree with aaylasecura, loving the angst as well Excited to read more of this and hear how the story unfolds!

[SpamKey]

HEeeeeeey so yeah.... Took me a while to get to this one  You can thank @Juto for getting this rolling at all, and my computer for the extremely belated update, heheh. Sorry for the lack of fetishy goodness in this part, the next part is coming very soon, and that will have plenty of that!

---

Chapter Two: And This is My Reaction (To Everything I Fear)

“Profits are down.”

 

Will froze at the voice; he carefully schooled his expression into one of respect, and looked up from his computer screen to see his father standing in the door.

 

Mr. Tran was not a particularly noteworthy man to look at; a short, plain-looking, elderly business man, normally found wearing a plain suit. He was not intimidating, not in the traditional sense. But that didn’t stop Will’s blood from running cold.

 

“Are they, sir?” Will asked, his tone one of careful surprise. “I was under the impression that they were average this quarter.”

 

“Below average.” Mr. Tran corrected disinterestedly, sitting down in one of the chairs in Will’s office.
 

“Hardly.” Will wanted to argue. Yes, profits were down, but it was well within expected levels, and the difference was barely noticeable. It was not a danger to the café, it would not make a large difference in profits for his father, and yet, here they were.

 

Will kept his mouth shut.

 

“I told you when I first put you in charge of this establishment, boy, that I expect nothing short of excellence from you. You’re lucky I had the generosity to give you this opportunity, when I would have been well within my rights to throw you out on the streets for your mother’s infidelity.”

 

Will shoved down a spark of rage and shame. Yeah, right. He thought. You couldn’t stand the thought of what that would do to your reputation. He kept his cool, however. He’d spent his entire life swallowing his pride in the face of threatening insults from his mother’s husband. He could do it again now.

 

“I’ll do better, sir.”

 

Mr. Tran stood, sparing Will a disdainful glance. “See that you do.”

 

Will took a steadying breath as Mr. Tran left the room. He let his head fall down into his hands, willing his heart to stop racing. He hated that the man still had this effect on him, after all these years. Hated that he couldn’t stave off the sense of failure, despite the knowledge that he had no control over who decided to buy coffee when and where, and that the Tigerlily was already more successful than his, for lack of a better term, father had anticipated.

 

A knock on the doorframe of his open office startled Will out of his stupor. Running a hand over his face to make sure it was clear of any tears that might’ve escaped, he let out a “Sorry, what?”

 

“Uh, it’s me.” Rosie stood in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder uncertainly. “Who was that?”

 

Will sighed, forcing a wry expression. “My boss. Was there something you needed?”

 

“Well, um…” Rosie seemed to be steeling herself for something. She tugged at her hair (now blonde, with bright blue and purple streaks throughout and pulled into a french braid) nervously as she worked up to whatever she needed to say. “Look… Ugh, the last few times this happened, I was working for a douche and I didn’t care, it was so much easier…”

 

Not liking where this conversation was going, Will raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for not being a dick, Rosie. I could dock your pay, would that help?”

 

“Ha ha.” Rosie deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Look, there’s a protest down at the college, over sexism within the student body and the school’s failure to address it, and I’m joining. I want to show my support. It’ll last at least all week, hopefully longer, if we keep up the media coverage. I, uh…” She bit her lip. “I won’t be able to come into work. I understand if you have to fire me, but this is important to me and I have to do it.”

 

Will grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I support this cause one-hundred percent, Rose, but it really couldn’t have come up at a worse time. Marco’s flakey as ever, Jason’s sick…”

 

“I know, Will, I know, but this is important.” Rosie had adopted her lecturing tone. “Do you have any idea the number of times I’ve been sexually harassed on campus? In class? Something has to be done, and I’m not here to ask permission. I’m telling you that I’m going.”

 

“Alright, Rosie, alright.” Will placated. He ran a hand over his neck, thinking. “Look, I get that this is important, so I’ll try to cover for you. But please understand, final employment decisions do not fall on me. That man you saw leaving? He decides whether or not you keep your job after this, and I can promise you, sexual harassment on community college campuses are not high on his priority list.” He spread his hands. “I’ll do my best. But I can’t make any promises, okay?”

 

Rosie opened her mouth to protest, then shut it, changing her mind. “Can you at least promise me good references if I am fired?”

 

Will laughed. “Of course. You’ve always been one of my best employees, Rosie. I’ll be sad to see you go, if you do. I’ll try, but--”

 

“You can’t promise anything, I know.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the effort, Will. I’m sorry to do this to you, but--”

 

“This is important, I know.” Will smirked. Rosie reluctantly followed suit. “Good luck, Rosie. I wasn’t lying when I said you have my full support. Hey--” He was struck with a sudden idea; maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. “Half off on coffee for any protesters who come in, how’s that? Tell your friends.”

 

Rosie’s face lit up. “You’re the best, Will!” She leaned over the desk to give him a quick hug. “Thanks so much. I’ll see you around!”

 

Will kept up his smile until Rosie left the office. Then he realized exactly what he’d done.

 

“Oh yeah, Will, what a bright idea, half off to protesters to bring sales up.” He muttered, getting up and starting to pace. “On a day when you’re the only one here. Fucking fantastic, Will, brilliant as always!”

 

He whipped out his phone and shot a quick text to Marco; “please tell me you’re coming in today.”

 

A second later, his phone dinged with a reply; “sorry bro i got a thing. u can cvr for me, rite?? ;)”

 

Fighting off a surge of annoyance, Will texted back; “no, i cant. rosies off protesting, theyre gonna be swamping us all week, i need you in here!”

 

Ding. “ok ok jeez :/ ill be in by 12 k? i rly do got a thing sry”

 

Will forced himself to breath deeply. He’d take it. “fine. just get here as early as you can okay?”

 

Ding. “u got it boss B)”

 

Will glanced at the clock on the wall; 6:30. He still had time. He could call Jason.

 

Jason had looked like crap when he went home yesterday, and he’d probably look worse today.

 

Will did not want to call Jason, because if he did, he knew for a fact Jason would come in. Him and his stupid work ethic, crappy job or no.

 

Will kept pacing, glanced at the clock again. 6:35. Now or never.

 

He called Jason.

 

It took four rings for Jason to pick up; “‘Lo?”

 

God, even in that one word he sounded wrecked; congested and hoarse and exhausted and god damn it, Will was such an asshole--

 

“Jason, it’s Will.” Jason was silent for a moment; or maybe he'd pulled away from the phone to sneeze, hard to tell.

 

“You deed be do cobe id?”

 

Will winced. “I’m so sorry. Rosie’s joined a protest, Marco is… Marco. We’re going to be swamped this week. I can get Marco in for the rest of the week, and later today, but I really can’t do it on my own.”

“I’ll be right dowd.” Jason promised, then hung up before Will could thank him. Will sighed. God, he was such an asshole.

 

---

 

I swear you'll get more soon, I already have the whole next part written, and my writing computer is back up-and-running!  Plus, next time Jason's gonna be working sick... Always a good time (for us )

[Juto]

Aww Will... No no, darling, you're not an asswhole. We ALL WANT TO SEE SICK JASON TRYING TO WORK THROUGH HIS COLD AND OMG I CAN NOT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART!!!

wow, it always amazes me how a semi-lucid ramble of mine can inspire something like this  this is soooo good SpamKey, LOVIN' IT!!!!  

[Arty]

Dare I say, I feel bad for jason. I kinda would do the same thing....heh 

[starpollen]

I SO love desperately sick assholes with stubborn work ethics who need someone to save them from themselves.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Dear Spam, stop making me feel for Jason....

20 hours ago, SpamKey said:

God, even in that one word he sounded wrecked; congested and hoarse and exhausted and god damn it, Will was such an asshole--

 

20 hours ago, SpamKey said:

God, he was such an asshole.

He is.

Stop making me feel bad for him!!

[SpamKey]

I told you you'd get more soon!  I also just posted a new Dr. Tech story, "Ennervation," so check that out too!

---

What a Match, I'm Half Doomed (and You're Semi-Sweet)

Jason showed up five minutes before opening and promptly proved Will’s suspicions to be… Only half correct. He was clearly feeling worse; he just didn’t quite look it.

 

Yes, his eyes were a bit red-rimmed and watery, his nose was runny and congested, his throat was raw, he kept sneezing and coughing, but… Mostly, he looked fine. Nose the right color, cheeks not flushed with fever... A little too fine.

 

When Will raised his eyebrow at Jason (who was taking his place behind the counter and tying the apron around his waist), he smirked. “Bakeup. I used to do bodelligg id college, I kidda god id the habid.”

 

“Hey, whatever works.” Will laughed, gesturing to his own carefully-applied eyeliner. “Look, man… I’m so sorry to call you in like this, I know you’re not up to it--”

“Will, I’ll be fih-hhh--PCHHhhuh! Unf, fide, gibbe a sec…” He fished a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose, careful not to disturb the concealer coating the appendage. “I took some meds, anyway, I’ll be fine.” He finished; less congested now, but still hoarse. (In a way that totally didn’t make Will blush. At all.)

“Alright. If you’re sure.” Will replied, going to open the café. “Let me know if you need a break, okay?”

 

As it turned out, Jason wouldn’t have had time to let Will know if he needed a break anyway; the moment the café opened, it was a madhouse. College students in brightly colored clothes, some carrying signs with various slogans (some of which were unrepeatable, if appropriate), many offering Will thanks for the discount, news of which had spread almost inhumanly fast. Will supposed that was to be expected, with Rosie. The girl was a natural at networking and publicity. Will often wondered if she’d gone into the wrong field.

 

Jason started flagging at around eleven; stumbling as he rushed about behind the counter, sneezing and coughing more often and for longer (he stifled the sneezes and wouldn’t let himself cough properly; though it hardly mattered at this point, since the makeup had rubbed off by now and anyone could see he was sick). Will itched to at least send him to the back room for a rest, but the flood of customers was unprecedentedly relentless.

 

When Marco came rushing in at one-thirty, yelling “Sorry, sorry!” as he threw his apron on over his paint-splattered t-shirt and yanked off his beanie, revealing perpetually mussed brown hair, Will nearly strangled him.

 

“I thought you said you’d be here by twelve!” He hissed under his breath as Marco set to work, pulling a double take at Jason.

 

“Well, damn, I would’ve if I’d known male-model was looking that shitty.” Marco replied, wincing as Jason stifled a series of sneezes into his arm. “I thought it was just a cold, dude, I swear.”

 

“Just--get to work.” Will shook his head. “Jason? Go sit in the back for a bit, I’ll call you out if we get swamped again.”

 

Jason nodded tiredly, making his way to the back room. He stumbled as he passed Will, who caught him by the arm, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

 

“Careful.” Will murmured, trying not to blush (not that Jason was liable to notice).

 

“Thahh-hhh-hih-PSHchuuh!” Jason sneezed tiredly, swiping his arm under his nose as Will pulled him upright again. “Thagks.”

 

“Bless you, it’s no problem.” Will muttered, reluctantly letting go as Jason straightened and continued into the back room. Will turned back to the register, pointedly ignoring Marco’s shit-eating grin.

 

“Bro, be a little more blatant, I don’t think he quite got the hint.”

 

“I’m still pissed at you and have the power to dock your pay at my discretion.” Will grouched. Marco shut up.

 

Poor Jason only got a half-hour’s rest until a sudden resurgence of business forced Will to call him back in. It wasn’t quite as bad, now that Marco was helping, but it was still way busier than Tuesday had any right to be.

 

Which was Will’s fault. Because he was an idiot.

 

Will watched the clock feverishly, wincing at every muffled cough and stifled sneeze, glancing over his shoulder whenever he heard Marco mutter a “careful, dude” after Jason stumbled. At a snail’s pace, the hour hand inched towards 5 o’clock, until finally--

 

“Done!” Will breathed, relieved as he finally flipped the “closed” sign in the window and shut the blinds. “Nice work, guys. Marco, you better be here all week, there’s probably gonna be similar business. I’ll call some of the weekend staff, too, see if they’ll take an extra shift or two.”

 

“A-okay by me, boss man!” Marco gave an exaggerated wink. “Welp, I’m outies. See ya tomorrow! Er, not you, I hope, dude.” Marco gave Jason, who was leaning against the counter exhaustedly, a rough pat on the shoulder on his way out. Will sighed, listening as the back door swung shut behind his flakiest (if most talented) employee.

 

“Lemme give you a ride home, Jason, you’re in no condition to drive.” Will said firmly, though his expression was apologetic. “Uh, sorry about today, again.”

 

“Id’s fide, Will.” Jason sniffled thickly, and coughed into his arm. “You do whad you godda do.”

 

“Have a rest in the back, I’ll just finish up out here.” Will insisted. Jason nodded, making his way listlessly into the break room. With another sigh and pang of assholish-ness, he set about wiping down the tables.

 

A sudden jingle as the door swung open interrupted him. “Sorry, we’re closed.” Will called over his shoulder, not bothering to look.

 

“Oh, Willie, not to me you aren’t.”

 

Will stiffened, grit his teeth, and turned around. “What’re you doing here, Sang?”

 

Sang Tran, Will’s elder brother, glanced around the Tigerlily with an air of disdain. He was dressed, as ever, impeccably, in a dark, formal suit of at the height of the latest trend--Will was pretty sure he recognized it as a recent Marc piece--his short, black hair trimmed neatly, his goatee similarly groomed. He smirked at his younger brother, who glared in return.

 

“Heard there was a commotion down here today. Something about… What was it? Half-off on all products to protesters from the local college?” Sang shook his head. “Really, Willie, how tacky can you get?”

 

“Father told me that sales were down.” Will stated, crossing his arms and leaning up against the table. “I saw an opportunity to bring them up, and I took it. I think you’ll find that it’s brought profits up considerably, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Sang snorted. “I’ll let the numbers be the judge of that, baby brother. But I’m relatively certain even you must know how father feels about spontaneous discounts like that.” Will’s silence confirmed his suspicion, and prompted him to continue. “You didn’t even run the idea by him first, did you? Didn’t so much as send him an email?”

 

More silence. Sang smirked again.

 

“You’ve really stepped in it this time, Willie. He barely tolerated your presence before, do you really think he’ll be so forgiving of an outright transgression like this?”

 

Will felt a sudden need to defend himself, though he was too panicked to do it properly. “I-I was showing initiative. He’s always telling you and Long to do stuff like that.”

“Maybe that’s because our sister and I are actually his kids.” Sang suggested, his tone innocently musing as he studied his nails. “Not some bastard he only kept out of pity because it was Mother’s last wish before she died--which was your fault, by the way.”

Will felt himself go white, but before he could do anything--faint, vomit, punch his brother--a hand was on his shoulder, pushing him firmly behind its owner.

 

“You heard him earlier. We’re closed.” Jason’s hoarse voice was ice cold and deadly, and when Will caught a glimpse of his face, his gaze was murderous. Sang, not the type to back down, but equally unlikely to cause a scene, compromised by scowling, and throwing a final threat over his shoulder as he left.

 

“Father’s going to have to hear about this, Willie! He’s not going to like it!”

 

The bells on the door jingled as it closed again. Scowling, Jason walked over and locked it.

 

When Will finally looked up from his feet, Jason was sitting on a table in front of him, staring, his expression inscrutable. Will cleared his throat, suddenly aware that his arms were wrapped around his torso protectively, and he was shaking.

“H-he’s not usually that forward.” He managed, giving a choked, mirthless laugh. Jason’s expression tightened.

“Will--”

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Will interrupted, turning around to finished wiping down the table, willing his hand to stop shaking. “He was probably just in a bad mood today, he’s not usually--”

 

“Will, s-hh-HAPSCHHhh! Ugh, s-sdop bakigg excuses!” Jason said vehemently, angrily rubbing his fist against his nose. “Y-you keeb bakigg excuses for theb, add… A-add they’ll dever sdop. I’d kdow, okay?” The anger suddenly melted away into melancholy. “I’ve beed thad guy.”

 

Will froze, staring at Jason over his shoulder. He knew, of course; everyone knew. But no one had gone so far as to say it out loud. Will certainly hadn’t ever heard Jason admit it.

 

“I’ll take care of all this in the morning.” Will said into the silence. “We should get you home.”

 

Jason sniffled deeply. “Yeah. Fide.”

 

---

 

Jason’s house was a twenty-minute car ride away from the café. The only conversation they shared the entire way was discussing directions, and when Will asked if Jason needed help getting his car back. The answer was no; he’d take the bus into town, and drive it back when he was feeling up to it.

 

As they pulled into the driveway of Jason’s house (a townhouse in the suburbs; small, but with more space than one person needed, Will couldn’t help but notice) he turned to the ailing artist. “I’ve threatened Marco with pay docks, so he should show up for the rest of the week, and I’ve gotten some of the weekend staff to show up. I’ll text you if I need you, but we’ll probably be fine.”

 

Jason nodded listlessly. At first Will had thought he’d been angry about the encounter with Sang in the café, but now he could see that Jason was just too exhausted to manage anything more than staying awake. He stumbled as they got out of the car, and Will quickly circled around to support him.

 

“Thagks.” He muttered, fumbling in his pocket for the keys. “Jus’ drop be off id the-hhh-PSCHHHuh! Hihh-ehh-EHPSHHhh! Guh, livigg roob, I’ll be fide.”

 

“Bless you. Are you sure?” They made their way semi-awkwardly (Jason was still half-collapsed against Will) into the house. “I could take you to the bedroom, at least, or get you some more meds--”

 

“I’ll be fide.” Jason said firmly. Will bit his lip, and, as requested, set Jason down on the couch in the living room.

 

A living room set up for two, Will noted. Not as over your ex as you act, huh?

 

“I-I’ll, uh… See you around, then.” Will offered. It was hard to read Jason’s expression in the dim room, but he nodded. Will lingered a second longer, before hurrying out of the home that was so obviously meant to house more than one.

Suddenly, he understood Jason’s reluctance to go home yesterday.

 

---

 

Wellllll today is a good day for angst, clearly Don't worry, fluffy caretaking coming up soon, promise!

Edited April 13, 2016 by SpamKey
forgot the flipign title >.<

[starpollen]

I'm SO ready for fluffy caretaking!! 

[Arty]

I love Jason now....but Will's brother?

.........

Can burn in the deepest pits of Tartarus.

[IveGotRedHair]

Aw I love this! Also I appreciate your chapter titles

[SpamKey]

Yayyyyy time for fluffy caretaking!!! Okay, okay... Mildly angsty caretaking. But it gets fluffier! Next part, I promise!

The drama also amps up the next part. Just sayin'.

---

Chapter Four: The Dark World Aches (for a Splash of the Sun)

“just texting to confirm, no need to come in today. got alex and stacey from the weekend shift, and marco actually showed! :O”

 

“damn its even worse today if you can believe it. what is it with activists and coffee?”

 

“...are you there? earth to jason.”

 

“is this about yesterday? im sorry about sang, i didnt know hed come here.”

 

“okay nvm i know for a fact you have read receipts turned on and youre just not getting these.”

 

“jason pick up the phone.”

 

“seriously im starting to freak out its been hours.”

 

“ive called you six times jason where the hell are you?”

 

“just closed up the cafe. im coming over.”

 

---

 

“Jason! Are you in there?” Will yelled, when banging on the door and ringing the bell didn’t evoke a response. He cursed under his breath, glaring at the door to Jason’s house which, despite Will’s best efforts, refused to obey his attempts at telekinesis, and remained stubbornly locked. He shivered slightly; his jacket was not doing nearly enough to fight off the winter chill.

 

When he knocked again, with similar results, he cursed out loud this time, and made his way around to the front window. He peered in, but couldn’t see much through the blinds; just slivers of the empty kitchen. For a moment, Will wondered if Jason had gone out. Then he remembered that his car was still in the café parking lot where he’d left it yesterday. So unless he’d wandered off on foot (unlikely, considering how Will had left him last night) he was right where Will had…

 

Will squeezed through the alleyway separating Jason’s house from its neighbors, and peered over the fence enclosing the small backyard, catching a glimpse through the living room window. His breath hissed.

 

Jason was there, on the floor with his back against the couch, visibly shaking. Cursing under his breath again, Will circled back around to the front door and started knocking.

 

“Jason! Jason, open the door, I know you’re in there, come on!” He yelled desperately, pounding on the door. “Jason, please, get up and open the door! It’s locked, I can’t--wait…”

 

He fished through his pockets; he remembered picking up a bobby pin (stained with hair dye, so probably Rosie’s) in the back room earlier that day. If it hadn’t fallen out…

 

“Oh thank god.” He breathed as he pulled out the pin. He and Long had learned how to pick locks back in high school, as more of a hobby than anything. They’d always been doing things like that; picking up eclectic skills to challenge each other with during the boredom of school.

 

He hadn’t spoken to Long in months. He didn’t really want to think about it.

 

It took several minutes (which felt like hours, standing there in a nice, suburban neighborhood, hoping no one would notice and think he was a burglar or something) but finally, the lock clicked open, and Will dashed inside.

 

He came barreling into the living room, and stopped in front of Jason, who hadn’t moved. “Jason, damn it.” Will muttered, kneeling down in front of him. “Are you okay, what’s--”

 

Jason looked up and Will’s breath caught. His face was tear-streaked, his eyes glazed over with fever, his cheeks flushed, his nose bright red and runny; he looked absolutely awful. A tear slipped down his cheek, and, without thinking, Will reached out and wiped it away, almost pulling back when he felt the heat coming off of him.

 

“Not okay.” He murmured. “Alright, I’ll just--come on, we gotta get you up and into bed--”

 

“Dot the bedroob.” Jason rasped weakly. His voice was almost completely gone. “Dod’t wadda--hhh-HIPSCHHHhhh! Hhh-s-sleeb th-thehh-EPSHhh!” The sneezes were both forceful and exhausted. Wincing at the mess they left behind, Will glanced around and located the tissue box. He pulled a few out and, when Jason made no move to grab them, cleaned him up.

 

“Bless you. Okay, no bedroom. But maybe actually up on the couch?” Will compromised. Jason nodded weakly, allowing Will to lift him up, helping him onto the couch. Will looked around again, finding a blanket and spreading it over Jason’s shivering form.

 

“Is there a thermometer in your bathroom?” Will asked. But Jason didn’t answer; just started crying again. As much as Will’s heart was breaking, Jason needed medicine more than comfort right now; so with a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, Will made his way through the house, looking for the bathroom and (more importantly) the medicine cabinet.

 

There was a bathroom on the first floor, but it was small and barely had anything in it, so Will went searching upstairs. Finally, he found the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom; he grabbed the thermometer and a bottle of ibuprofen, and raced back downstairs.

 

“Okay, Jason, just a sec, let’s take your temperature.” Will uncapped the thermometer, and managed to coax Jason’s mouth open and closed so the device was under his tongue. “Can you wait here a minute, I’m going to get you some water.”

 

Jason didn’t really acknowledge him; the tears were coming slower now, but he was still crying. Will bit his lip and made for the front of the house, finding his way to the kitchen. He filled a glass as fast as he could, and returned just as the thermometer beeped.

 

“102.9” Will read off the display, with a pang of guilt. “Damn it, Jason, you should’ve told me you were this sick, I could’ve figured something else out!”

 

“You could’dt.” Jason muttered absently, sniffling.

 

“I could’ve tried.” Will insisted, doling out a dose of ibuprofen. “Come on, take these, they’ll help… Hopefully.”

 

Jason took the pills without protest, though the water triggered a rough, wracking coughing fit. Wincing and apologising, Will eased him into a more upright position, rubbing his back until the coughs faded.

 

“Dammit, this is my fault, you were on the mend until I dragged your ass back to work.” Will fretted, bringing the blanket back into place (it had fallen to the ground during the fit.) “I’m so sorry--”

“Hh-PSCHHhuh! Hheh-eh-EPSHHhhuh!”

“Bless you, here.” Will handed over a tissue; Jason seemed up to taking care of it himself this time. “Do you have any cold medicine? Can you tell me where it is?”

 

“Kitched coudter.” Jason muttered, sniffling and wiping at his bright-red nose. Will nodded, and got up to retrieve it. He quickly found the bottle in the kitchen (clean except for a few plates in the sink) and returned, pouring some into the cap.

 

“Alright, it’ll taste nasty, but it’ll make you feel better, and help you sleep, so I think it’s worth it.” Will was more talking for his own benefit; Jason was too out of it to be much use in a conversation. Jason downed it without much protest, coughing slightly as it went down. “When was the last time you ate?”

 

Jason merely shrugged, expression faltering. “Hhh-ehh-HIPSHCHhhuh! Hh-eh-EPSHCHhh! Huh-UPCHHhhh! Ngh…”

 

“Bless you.” Will murmured, handing him another tissue. “Alright, fine, I’ll have something ready for you when you wake up, okay? Just try to sleep, I’ll be right back.”

 

“Waidt!” Jason grabbed at his hand, fresh tears spilling down his face. “Please…”

 

Will swallowed, lowering himself back down to the ground. “Okay. I’ll wait. I-I’ll wait, it’s fine.”

 

Jason nodded, his eyes sliding shut, though his grip on Will’s hand didn’t weaken enough for him to escape until he’d fallen completely asleep.

 

---

 

Sorry it's a little short! If it's any comfort, the next one is hella long. I tried to incorporate part of it into this part, but... Honestly, this was the only good cut off I really should plan for these things as I'm writing them.

Edited April 18, 2016 by SpamKey
mmmmmm formatting

[Arty]

Omg jason!!!!! I just wanna hug him... 

[LeadaAlexys52]

So I have never commented on you stuff before...because I was super late to the party and just discovered the glory a few days ago and went on a binge read of all your stuff...*ahem* anyway...on with the actual comment

How did you manage to make this hated character so adorable?? I need to know!! The poor boy! But seriously though, what made him treat Nick so bad?? He must have known what he was doing so why?? And now he's so sad...I have to say I'm having very mixed feelings about his right  to be that upset...ARRGG why must you play with our emotions like this??

[starpollen]

Yaaiiss... mushy caretaking.  my fave!!

[kendisima]

I really love all of your work on here, but this story is my fave Jason is just so angsty... ughh. This is incredibly adorable, and these two make like this super awkward-yet-sweet, weird, almost-couple. Can't wait for more! Now off to the new story you linked XD

[SpamKey]

Hooray more fluff! And angst. All the angst. I'm still appealing to the Empress

---

Chapter Five: Give Me Therapy (I'm a Walking Travesty)

Will haphazardly placed the groceries on the kitchen counter before yanking off his jacket, still marvelling at the fact that he’d been able to buy them. His father had cut off his access to the family accounts before as a sort of punishment for some perceived misdeed, but apparently he hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

 

Or he’s planning something worse, Will worried. He’s done that, too.

 

He shook the thought from his head; he didn’t have time for that right now, Jason was still dangerously ill, and probably needed food. Will glanced at his watch, grimacing. He’d only been gone about half-an-hour, but he should probably check on Jason anyway…

 

Peeking into the living room, he was relieved to find the digital artist still snoring away. Will crept up and lay a gentle hand on his forehead; still hot, too hot. Even if he did look cute, bundled up and asleep on the couch, blond hair tousled, mouth hanging open, 5 o’clock shadow a bit scruffier than usual…

 

Shaking his head to clear it again, he returned to the kitchen, and set about making soup. Even though time was of the essence, and considering the circumstances (and how tired Will himself was, after a long, hard day at work) no one would blame him, his conscience wouldn’t let him make canned soup; even if it couldn’t be absolutely from scratch, at the very least it had to be un-processed.

 

In the end, Will had settled on buying fresh chicken, spices (in the hopes of Jason actually tasting something through his congestion), and a few vegetables (carrots he intended to shave in, and green onions to slice up small, so they’d go down Jason’s doubtlessly sore throat with ease), but bought ready-made broth, as there just wasn’t time to make it properly. He quickly set about preparing the soup, rushing slightly; Jason probably hadn’t eaten properly in a while, he needed something in him sooner rather than later.

 

Once the soup was simmering on the stove, Will nodded with satisfaction, and went to check on Jason again, who was still sleeping. Will felt his forehead, and smiled. Still far too warm, but a little cooler, he thought. The medicine was working.

 

“Ngh… Will?” Jason slurred. Will jumped back, yanking his hand away from Jason’s forehead as he squinted up at him. “Whad’re…” He sniffled. “What’re you doigg here…?”

 

“Y-you, uh… Don’t remember.” Was Will blushing? He was probably blushing. “You weren’t answering my texts, I got worried, and came over. You were really feverish, so I gave you some medicine. I thought I should stay, just in case… And, y’know, it was my fault, for calling you in when you were so sick, and I felt bad--I mean, I still feel bad, it’s my fault, and then after you saw everything with Sang, I thought you were pissed at me, and I was kinda freaking out and--I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

 

Will watched with dismay as Jason, now smirking slightly, nodded. Will sighed. “I’ll go get your soup.”

 

“You bade soup?” Jason rasped, half-sitting up.

“Yeah.” Will said over his shoulder as he left the room. Once he was in the kitchen, he called out; “Hey, where do you keep your bowls?”

“Cupboard over the sink.” Jason replied, his voice cracking with the effort. “EPSHChhhuh!”

“Bless you!” Will called, retrieving a bowl. “Silverware?”

“Drawer, dext do the fridge.” Jason answered, voice now slightly muffled. Will heard why when a distant noseblow reached his ears. Doling out a serving of the now-finished soup, Will smiled to himself. At least he was coherent (and not creeped out by Will’s presence).

“Here we are.” Will announced as he returned to the living room, soup in hand. “You should probably eat. I’m pretty sure your fever’s down, but I don’t think you’ve eaten anything in awhile, so you probably need something--rambling. Sorry. Here.”

Jason took the offered soup (he’d managed to shift into a mostly-sitting-up position), smirking a little at Will’s rambling. “It’s cool, Will. Uh, yeah, I haved’t eated id a while.”

He tentatively swallowed a spoonful of broth, reluctant to eat because of his sore throat and general lack of appetite, but this soon changed. His eyes widened as the flavor hit his tongue, and he quickly took another, larger spoonful, not slowing down until he was interrupted by a sneeze.

“Hh-PSCHHhhuh! Ugh, sorry…” He sniffled wetly, setting the soup on the coffee table for a moment so he could grab a tissue.

“Bless you. Do you like it?” Will asked anxiously. Jason blew his nose, then laughed.

“Ligke id? This is abazigg!” He breathed, wiping his nose. “Whed I asked if you’d bade soup, I was thikigg, ligke, you god ode of the cads out of the padtry, or sobethigg, but… Did you actually bake this?”

Will blushed all the way up to his hairline. “Not from scratch, really. I got premade broth. Just added a few spices, some veggies, the chicken… I was cheating, it’s really not worth that much praise…”

“Cut yourself sobe slagk, Will, this is the best soup I’ve had… Ever.” Jason insisted, picking up the bowl again to continue eating. “I haved’t wadted to eat id days, Will, thagk you.”

“No problem…” Will muttered, trying to look anywhere but at Jason. “Really not a big deal… Not even from scratch… J-Just threw it together...”

“Dod’t sell youself short.” Jason replied simply, fishing out a bit of shredded chicken. “You really didd’t have do go to all this effort, Will. Thagks so buch.”

Will was finally rendered incapable of speech, mumbling incoherently and hoping his face wasn’t half as red as it felt. Realizing he was still standing awkwardly, he quickly sat down on the couch next to Jason, who polished off the soup in record time, pausing occasionally to sneeze or blow his nose (the spices tasted amazing, but made his nose run even more).

“I-If you want more later, there’s a pot of it on the stove. Just stir it a bit and heat it up, there should be enough for a few more bowls.” Will mentioned, casting around for something to say as Jason finished eating. “I’ll take that for you…”

He grabbed the bowl before Jason could protest, taking it to the kitchen and putting it in the sink. When he came back, Jason had wrapped himself in the blanket again, and was reclining on the couch.

“Will, thagks for all this. Really. You didd’t have to.” Jason said gratefully. Will blushed again, glancing down at his feet.

“Well, it was kinda my fault, for dragging you back to work when you were so sick.” He countered, shrugging. “So I guess we can call it even. Are you gonna be okay now?”

Jason’s face suddenly fell slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearly nine by now.

“Yeah, I-I’ll behh--HIPSHHhuh! Hhh-ehh-EPCHHhh!” He sneezed harshly into his arm, holding it there until he could grab a tissue to clean up. Will refrained from mentioning that he needn’t have bothered trying to hide it, as he’d already had to wipe the digital artist’s nose earlier.

“Bless you.” Will chimed automatically.

 

“Thagks. I’ll be fide.” Jason finished, sniffling. “Seriously, Will, thagk you for everythigg. I-I, uh… Jusd thagks.”

 

Will shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Text me if you need anything, okay? I gotta head home, get some sleep. I left the medicine on the coffee table, take some more in an hour or two. Don’t even think about coming in for work until your fever’s broken.”

 

Jason nodded. Will hesitated a moment, cleared his throat, then turned to leave.

 

“Waidt a sec!” Jason cried, dissolving into coughs as payment for his effort. Will rushed back over, hovering worriedly until it died down.

 

“Are you okay, what is it?” Will asked, voice slightly frantic.

 

“Are you godda be fide?” Jason asked, voice hoarse again. Will blinked, confused. “Sang. He bade threats. Are you godda be okay?”

 

Will stiffened, drawing back slightly. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“‘Beigg okay” add ‘dealigg with id before’ do dot bead the sabe thigg.” Jason contradicted, narrowing his eyes. “Jusd… You cad text be too, if you deed adythigg, okay? I’b sick, dot ad idvalid.”

 

Despite the fact that he was weak and shivery, his cheeks were flushed with fever, and his nose was visibly running, Jason’s expression was determined, like he would attempt to fight Sang off physically if Will asked him to. It made Will heart skip a beat, but for once it wasn’t because of his inconvenient little crush.

 

“Really, Jason, I’ll be okay.” Will forced himself to speak, realizing he’d been silent for a moment too long. “Like I said, I’ve dealt with it before. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.”
 

“Will--” Jason protested.

 

“Feel better, Jason, okay?” Will cut him off, hurrying out of the house before Jason could answer. He drove away quickly, a string of curses on his lips as he set his iPod to one of his more moody playlists. MCR blasted through the speakers.

 

Of all the people to find out about this, it just had to be Jason, didn’t it? The one person he wanted to impress, the one person he didn’t want to view him as weak; that was the one who had to watch while Sang--his senior by only a few years--tore Will a new one over something like an unapproved sale.

 

The injustice of it all still stung, though Will supposed he had no right to be surprised; he’d been dealing with his family and their idiosyncrasies since he’d been born. He should know better than to do anything but what he was explicitly told to do.

 

And now Jason, who was so sick he hadn’t been able to answer a simple text, thought Will was so pitiful that he’d tried to offer help while barely able to stand. God, Will was an idiot; he’d actually hoped that, maybe, when things calmed down and Jason got a better job, got over his ex, he’d have a chance to…

 

His grip tightened on the steering wheel; he forced himself to stop thinking, and just listen to the music. It was Florence + the Machine now.

 

I know that you’re hiding. I know there’s a part of you that I just cannot reach. You don’t have to let me in.

 

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fucking fair.

 

And it’s your pride that’s keeping us still so far apart. But if you give a little, so will I… So will I...

 

He pulled into his parking complex, fighting to calm down. He didn’t know why he was so disappointed now; he’d always known that Jason was unattainable, out of his league by miles and made untouchable by taboo and heartbreak to boot. Why he was so torn up at being just a little bit further away from an impossible goal was beyond Will.

 

The elevator ride up to his apartment was stiflingly silent, as he kept trying not to think. Kept failing not to think.

 

He was so lost in trying not to think that he didn’t notice that his apartment wasn’t empty when he entered; it was only when his father spoke that Will realized he wasn’t alone.

 

“Will.” The voice, as ever, froze him for a moment, before he forced himself to turn towards his living room. Mr. Tran stood there, expression grim. Sang stood behind him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. Long lingered uncomfortably off to one side, tugging at a strand of dark hair that had fallen out of her professional bun.

 

“It’s time we had a talk.” Mr. Tran stated. Sang’s smirk grew. Long wouldn’t meet Will’s eyes. Cold dread doused Will’s chest like ice.

“Now, about your recent transgression…”

 

---

 

Oh Will... I'm going to do horrible things to you...