[Worst Case Scenario] You What Now?

[goblover.livejournal.com]

I may be slow but eventually I get around to stuff!
So I did week 1 prompt there. Oh yeah!

Title: You What Now?
Author: Goblover
Pairing: Eh there's some Brad/Jeff
Summary: Jeff lets go of the chair's leg right in the middle of the chair dance.
Rating: I'll say Pg-13 cause I think I used an F-word or two

“Is that my blood?” Brad asked, completely astounded looking at the bloodied tissues. Jeff had a stack of them going that he should have discarded immediately after using them to mop up Brad’s forehead. Not that Brad was one for health issues, it was just getting increasingly gross, staring down at his own...blood.

 

“Stop whining,” Jeff said, in his best not caring at all voice. Though really, if that were true-wouldn’t he be on the sidelines instead of doing his best to rescue Brad from a somewhat minor cut?

 

Jeff didn’t even like blood. There was always the story going around about how the guys had goaded Jeff into giving blood at a donation bus, and how Jeff had fainted on site just thinking about it.

 

“It’s not your blood.” Brad retorted. Thinking over it, were it Jeff in his position-and it wouldn’t be-Jeff would either be whining or pretending like he wasn’t crying or passed out. Most likely a combination there.

 

“It’s not my wedding.” Jeff came back with quickly. True, it wasn’t his wedding. It probably would never be his wedding. That’s just how he was.

 

“You don’t have to take care of me right now.” Brad said for probably the seventh time, but Jeff wasn’t budging.

 

“It’s not my fault you fell.”

 

It was completely his fault. The man walked away during the chair dance, while he had a good grip on one of the legs of the chair. The laws of physics didn’t really like that one.

 

“You’re right, it’s not.” Brad said amusedly, going along with it for the sake of doing so. “Let me get a professional.”

 

Brad moved to get up.

 

“I am a professional.” Jeff tugged on Brad’s arm, keeping him seated. He leaned in closer to examine the cut on his forehead. Jeff blew on the cut.

 

“Not at this.” Brad shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Jeff’s close proximity. He'd never even gone that close in improv. It was considerably awkward. “Look, I’m pretty sure like ten of my new relatives are doctors.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s racist.” Jeff applied a band-aid before pulling back out to a normal distance between them. He didn’t even smile at his own comment. That was saying something.

 

“Ooh,” Brad said, making a silly face and hoping for a laugh that he didn’t get. “Maybe.”

 

Jeff cleared his throat and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms, indicating that he was done. And definitely not amused.

 

They sat looking at each other in complete silence. Jeff’s neutral expression started to turn into a harsh frown. His brow furrowed. Brad chose to address it.

 

“So you’re um…you’re the only one who hasn’t…” Brad waited for Jeff to cut him off, but he was slow-going at it.

 

“What? Hasn’t what?” Jeff finally came up with.

 

“You know, wished me good luck and all that. Congratulations, something.”

 

It was his wedding after all. Not that it was a big deal or anything, it was just a big fucking deal. Seriously, he only got one of them-if he was lucky-and it was a life changing event. Jeff probably did better at funerals. Happy as a clam there, Brad could just see it.

 

“I bought you a fucking toaster. I showed up. There’s my obligations to you.” Jeff clapped his hands once, waving them as he dropped them to his sides. “Fulfilled.”

 

Was he still pissed about not being best man or next best man or ringbearer or whatever the hell he wanted? Hell, Brad and Jeff knew each other-they worked together but nothing that deep ever came out of their semi-friendship.

 

“If you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to.” Brad offered.

 

“You had the vegetarian option on the invitation, I felt compelled.”

 

“There was already the whole kosher thing going on, it was easy.” Brad brushed it off before squinting in thought. “You didn’t RSVP anyway, what did it matter?”

 

Jeff licked his lips. He looked down at the ground before he spoke.

 

“I was supposed to do something,” he mumbled.

 

“What? Like, take advantage of the free liquor?” Brad laughed.

 

“No,” Jeff tried to stay indifferent.

 

“Lift me up during the chair dance instead of dropping me? That’d have been nice.”

 

“No,” he said louder, getting more frustrated.

 

“What?” Brad shoved Jeff playfully.

 

Jeff really didn’t play well at that game. Bother him enough and eventually he’d tell state secrets. And Brad had plenty of time for that.

 

“It’s not important anymore.” Jeff tried to wave it away as he stood up, walking towards the door.

 

“It’s not? I’ll say it is.” Brad got up to follow him.

 

“Leave it alone.” Jeff laughed bitterly.

 

“Nope, now I’m interested.” he ran around to the front of Jeff, cutting off what Brad assumed was an attempt at leaving.

 

If he had to, he was going to bug him every night for the next two weeks. Oh shit wait, honeymoon. That wasn’t going to work.

 

“Stop Brad, come on.” He pushed down on his shoulder.

 

“Tell me,” Brad blocked him again.

 

“I said stop, go back to your party.”

 

“What were you supposed to do?” he raised his voice.

 

“I was-”

 

“Out with it,” he motioned for him to give it up.

 

“Fine, you really wanna know?”

 

And there it was…not so hard after all.

 

“I was supposed to stop your wedding. Are you happy?”

 

Both of them looked at each other for just a split second. Jeff broke away to look at the ground while Brad, oddly enough, focused on his chin. It was quivering.

 

“Because of the-” Brad started confusedly.

 

“Because I fucking loved you okay?” Jeff yelled out.

 

“What?” Brad’s jaw dropped.

 

“Love you, present fucking tense, whatever.” Jeff shook his head. “God you’re such a douchebag.”

 

“Wait-What? Hold on.” Brad struggled to find some sort of a response.

 

Did he really just-He couldn’t have said that. Meant that, something.

 

“No, I gotta go.” Jeff started to back up to get around Brad.

 

“How in the world does you loving me make me a douchebag? And on that note, you what now?” Brad’s voice cracked near the end of his second question, completely out of surprise alone.

 

“I’m not saying it again.” Jeff crossed his arms and looked away, pretending to be far too interested in the blinking lights on a candle display.

 

“I just-I can’t believe that.”

 

“Great. In fact, I hope you don’t.” he shrugged.

 

“How long have you…” Brad trailed off.

 

Jeff stared at him.

 

“That lo-” Brad started to ask.

 

Jeff grabbed him by the front of his tux and smashed him up against his lips, kissing him with all his might. Brad froze, a little too long for his liking, before hungrily reciprocating.

 

Jeff broke it off with a huff.

 

Brad shook his head, blank expression plastered on his face. Nothing was there to take the place of it. He didn’t…know how to handle what just-He couldn’t even explain it.

 

“All of this time you could have told me, anything-I would have-” he stammered.

 

Jeff sniffed in a breath and wiped his nose.

 

“Have a good fucking life, Sherwood.” Jeff said indifferently. He made his way out the front door without a look back at him.

 

Brad stood there for at least ten minutes before returning to the reception. His reception, he corrected. God damn it.