Clang(16)

"Yeah, you have plenty. You don't sidle your way up to them like a  teenage girl fluttering her eyelashes..." Thomas widened his eyes like  Jackson's had been whenever he listened to Chase talk.

Jackson was bright red now, but he laughed. "You asshole. I thought you'd mock me less than Cam and Noah..."

"I'll be good," Thomas promised, laughing. He raised his hands once he  set down the load of lumber. "I promise. Keep me updated."

"I will." Despite his embarrassment, Jackson still glowed. He walked in a  pleased, rolling stride, still humming under his breath.

It was good to see him like this. Thomas couldn't remember when Jackson  had last been in love or even crushing hard. It was just like Cam had  been around Noah in the spring. That left him as the only single  brother.

Not everything between us has to be a competition. Thomas shook his head and followed Jackson back to his yard.





Chapter 17


Jackson


On Monday night, Jackson shut down his forge an hour early just to head  inside, shower, and shave. Maybe half his appeal was him working hard in  the workshop, but this was a first date. He wanted to be clean and  presentable.

Jackson shrugged on his usual grey t-shirt, then browsed his closet. He  didn't want to choose plaid  –  too casual. A white shirt was too formal.  Something in between, then...

After a few moments of thought, he picked out a long-sleeved dark purple  collared shirt. He added a grey zip-up sweater in case the evening was  chilly.

"That's it."

Paired with black jeans, Jackson was good to go.

He strode out and locked the door to walk to the sushi restaurant. He  could have driven, but it really wasn't far away and he was starting to  like walking back and forth more to town. This neighborhood was only a  couple minutes closer than his old house but it felt like a much bigger  difference.

By the time he reached the sushi restaurant, it was six on the nose. Chase stood outside, browsing his phone.

"Hey! Did I keep you? Sorry!"

Chase automatically smiled, pocketing his phone and reaching out to  touch Jackson's arm. "Hi. No, not at all. I just got here." He leaned  into Jackson and tilted his chin up, so Jackson leaned down to peck him  on the lips. He's so bold. I love it.

"All right. Shall we head in?"

They took seats at a table next to the conveyor belt. Jackson rolled his  shoulders and scooted in next to it to get a good look at what was  going around. "How was your weekend?"

"Slow," Chase admitted. "Work went pretty well, though."

Jackson nodded. "Mine was pretty slow, too. I spent yesterday pulling  out the fence between my brothers' houses. The one between Thomas and me  is the next to go."

Chase raised his eyebrow. "Just... ripping out fences bare-handed? Okay, Popeye."

Jackson was startled into a laugh. "I'm not casually boasting--"

The waiter interrupted them to deliver water and ask if they had any  special orders. Jackson turned them down. It was more fun to hunt from  the belt anyway.

"I wish they'd had cool stuff like this in university," Jackson lamented. "My buddies and I would have gone out all the time."

"You did uni here?"

"I did an associate's degree, yeah," Jackson told him. "Then I realized I  was enjoying blacksmithing too much and I actually liked it. Why bother  pursuing a useless degree and getting in debt for something I'll never  use?"

Before he even finished the sentence, Chase was nodding hard. "Exactly. I  did my freshman year at U of T in fine arts, and... Jesus, I blew so  much money. Then I did a tattoo school and I got lucky enough to get an  apprenticeship, and that actually gave me a career."

"D'you ever feel you missed out?" Jackson asked.         

     



 

Chase frowned. "A little, sometimes. I mean, some guys wound up becoming  socially aware, getting involved in activism and nonprofits and stuff.  But a lot of others just... integrated into whatever other jobs we could  find. I wish I'd been able to study queer studies as a major. I  might've liked that."

"Yeah," Jackson hummed. He took his time to work through the three  plates he'd first grabbed. "I don't know, I'm glad I went, but I'm also  glad I didn't finish."

"What was the associate's degree in?"

"Metal processing."

Chase looked blank. He finished his last roll and started watching the belt again. "Like... what?"

"Uh, basically, I could be a welder or a ship-builder or something."

"Oh. So that tied in with your blacksmith stuff. That's a lot more  useful than an arts degree..." Chase grabbed another plate from the  belt. "Aha. I knew there was another one of these going around.

Jackson laughed, then shrugged. "Even your year taught you some stuff for tattooing, though, I bet?"

"Yeah," Chase admitted. He smiled, setting down his chopsticks to drink a  few sips of water. "I like that you take my art seriously."

Jackson stacked up his empty plates and folded his arms, leaning back to  watch Chase. "Of course I do. I'm in the same boat. Most people think I  just make swords..." Chase blushed. "Not you," he hurried to reassure  Chase. "But most people."

Chase nodded. "Before I talked to you, I kinda thought so, too. I had  this image of, I don't know, a manly burly dude with a foot-long beard  and a Viking longship in his backyard..."

Jackson started to laugh. He might have been pretty strong, but he  wasn't into the reenactment scene like his weaponry customers. "Yeah,  no, that's common."

"Kinda like most people think tattoo artists are ultra-masculine bikers. I'm girly in that scene," Chase sighed.

Jackson frowned sympathetically. "Yeah. A little like Noah, then...?"

Chase winced. "I guess."

There it is. Jackson leaned forward. "Sorry. Is there something bad between you two...?"

"No, no," Chase hastened to answer, almost spilling his water glass.  "Crap. Oh, I didn't spill it." He pushed aside his empty plates, then  stacked them up to make room, his eyes down on the plates.

Jackson gave him a few moments to decide how to answer since something  was clearly bothering him. He'd noticed something weird between them at  the barbecue.

"I just... I have trouble with really... fem guys," Chase admitted. "Christ, that sounds bad, but it's just..."

"Internalized shit? We've all been there."

Chase winced again and nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I like Noah, it's just... you know, he'd never fly in my hometown."

I thought he was from Toronto.

Jackson sipped from his water glass. When Noah didn't seem inspired to  continue, he answered, "Fair enough. As long as you treat him fine and  vice versa, we're cool. It takes time to work out all that BS from your  system."

"Oh, yeah. Of course! I'd never take out my own... issues... on him,"  Chase promised. He met Jackson's eyes now with a frown of concern.  "Sorry I'm being weird. It was just a rough weekend."

I'm not guilting him, am I? Jackson reached across the table to touch  Chase's hand. "I know you wouldn't." Chase hesitantly smiled, and  Jackson met it with a smile of his own. "Sorry you had a bad weekend,  man."

"S'okay," Chase assured him. "It's a lot better Monday night, though."  Chase didn't pull back from the touch, his gaze flickering between  Jackson's eyes. He turned his palm over to rub his hand along Jackson's  as they shared a few moments of silence. "Shall we continue eating? Or  are you full off three rolls?"

"Hell, no, I'm not done," Jackson laughed. They turned their attention  to grabbing plates from the belt again. Jackson started smiling again  when he realized his hand still tingled from the brushes against Chase's  palm.



The rest of their supper was far more relaxed. By the time he walked  Chase home, they were bumping each other's sides playfully. Chase even  reached out to take his hand for a few minutes while they walked and  bantered.

Chase's weird moment earlier was truly gone, his wicked sense of humor  back. Sometimes Jackson was left speechless, but he always ended up  laughing. It was self-deprecating sometimes; Chase didn't take himself  too seriously, and Jackson liked a grounded guy.

"You could come in," Chase offered, gesturing towards his apartment building. "I'd like that."

Jackson's eyes flickered between Chase's. Even the prospect of pulling away from him and walking home right now felt... cold.         

     



 

Even in the short second or two he thought about it, the burn under his skin told him he wanted Chase.

"Okay."

They were quiet now, the banter of moments ago gone as Chase led him to  the staircase and up the flight of stairs. Every time they brushed,  Jackson heard Chase's breath catch. He was sensitive even to Jackson  reaching out to run a hand slowly up from the small of his back to the  back of his neck.