Truth

~1300 words :: Jude Law/Ewan McGregor :: 5/23/05
“Truth,” Jonny says, thunking down another empty glass, “or dare?”


“Truth,” Jonny says, thunking down another empty glass, “or dare?”

“Fuck off.” Ewan rolls his eyes and pushes himself up, already reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. “You’re daft if you think I’m playing that. I’ll get us another round.”

“I wasn’t talking to you anyway,” Jonny calls out. And if he wasn’t talking to Ewan, that leaves only one other person.

“Oh, er…” Jude fidgets, eyes darting over to where Ewan stands, elbows on the bar as he leans in to order. “I don’t. I don’t think I really…”

“Come on, don’t you be a wet blanket, too.”

“Oh…all right, erm….” Another glance over Ewan’s way, and fuck, he’s flirting with the barman. Probably trying to weasel out of paying, Jude thinks sourly. He sighs and turns back to Jonny. “All right,” not dare, God knows what that might involve, “truth, then.”

Jonny grins, wide and almost predatory. Jude cringes inwardly.

“You ever fancied a bloke?”

Jude blinks, and then his mouth seems to open of its own accord and say, “Of course not!” He’s appalled to find he sounds rather indignant, and he flushes and looks away, only to find Ewan standing next to him, drinks in hand.

The glasses clink together as Ewan sets them down, beer spilling over his fingers. “I’m still not playing,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans and flopping down on the bench next to Jude. “Especially if you can’t come up with any better questions than that.”

“Ewan’s right,” Jude says hurriedly. “It’s stupid and anyway, what’s to say anyone’s actually telling the truth?”

Jonny raises his eyebrows, watching Jude over the rim of his glass. “Have you, then?”

“I didn’t mean me,” and again, he sounds like he’s protesting, “just…in general. That’s why it’s a stupid game, I mean.”

“Got any better ideas?”

“Pool,” Ewan says, and this time he uses Jude’s shoulder for leverage as he stands. His hand feels hot. “Pool’s a better idea.”

Grinning, Jonny shoots up, glass in hand, and is already halfway to the table when he calls, “I bags break shot.”

Ewan’s hand is still on Jude’s shoulder. “You in, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll play winner.”

It’s several games and even more rounds later when they’re finally stumbling home. Jonny’s too pissed to take the Tube, so Jude says he can sleep on the sofa, and though Ewan frowns at that, he says all right, and after a couple blocks with his hands shoved in his pockets he seems to shake off whatever mood he was in and is grinning and taking the piss out of Jude for missing a couple easy shots.

Jude doesn’t have any excuses, except that Ewan was standing too close, or watching him too intently, and those aren’t excuses at all. Not ones he wants to admit to anyway.

They’re nearly at the flat now. Jude fishes in his pocket, finding his key buried under coins and a couple biros. He ought to get a keychain for it, he supposes, but he hasn’t any other keys. Might make it easier to find, though.

“I’ve got an extra blanket you can use,” Ewan says, taking the stairs two at a time.

It takes Jonny and Jude longer, and Jude thinks it’s not fair that Ewan can drink so much and still barely look tipsy. Ewan’ll have a headache in the morning, though, Jude knows, and he takes some comfort in that when he trips over his trainers trying to get them off.

By the time Ewan comes back with the blanket, Jonny’s already sprawled out on the sofa, still dressed but for his shoes. Ewan drops the blanket on top of him and says, “You know where everything is.”

There’s a round of “g’night”s, and Jude pads into his room, kicks off his jeans while he waits for Ewan to finish in the bathroom. It’s tempting to just crawl into bed like this, but his bladder is full and he’ll feel bad enough in the morning without the added bonus of not having cleaned his teeth.

He waits til he hears Ewan’s door shut, and it’s only when he’s in the bathroom himself that he realises how relieved he feels that Jonny’s here tonight. Which is stupid, really, and all Jonny’s fault for asking him stupid questions. It’s even stupider that somewhere under the relief he feels a bit disappointed as well.

Crawling into bed, he curls up, and pulls the blankets up around him. He wonders if he oughtn’t put on a jumper or his pyjama bottoms. It’s a bit chilly for just boxers and t-shirt, even if he did keep his socks on. Maybe that’s what’s keeping him awake, despite feeling completely knackered.

His back’s to the clock, so he doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there when he hears something in the hallway and then the creak of his doorknob turning.

“I’m cold,” Ewan says, shuffling in and shutting the door behind him. Jude can just about make out that he’s got a blanket around his shoulders, but that’s it.

“What do you-?”

And then Ewan’s there, crawling into bed with him and mumbling at Jude to move over. Jude does. All the way to the edge of the bed, and he’d move further if he could.

Ewan arranges his own blanket on top of Jude’s and reaches out to grab Jude’s shoulder. His hand feels hot again, for all he says he’s cold, though not as hot as Jude’s face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No… No, course not.”

Though his hand is gone now, Jude can still feel Ewan behind him, and it makes it hard to relax. Ewan’s breathing is even, but Jude can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. He doesn’t want to turn around and look. His own breathing sounds loud, too loud, and he’s so busy trying not to think about Ewan that he’s sure he’ll never fall asleep himself.

He must, though. He must be dreaming when he feels the bed shift and Ewan move closer. That can’t really be Ewan’s hand on his hip or Ewan’s cheek pressed to the tense spot between his shoulders.

“You really never fancied a bloke?”

Ewan’s cheek becomes his mouth, lips pressed to Jude’s shirt, and up higher to his neck. It gives him goosebumps and he shivers. He wonders dimly if Ewan expects an answer. It comes out a whimper first, and then, “No…”

Ewan stills. “You want me to stop?”

It’s amazing Jude can hear anything over his heartbeat. “No, I. Your erm…your question…”

“My question?”

Jude turns, squirming so he’s on his back, and he can see the crease the between Ewan’s eyebrows. “If I ever fancied…” he trails off as Ewan’s fingers wrap around his cock.

The frown line dissolves, and Ewan’s lips curve in a smile. He props himself up one elbow and bends over Jude, leaning close til their lips touch. “No?” But Jude’s too busy kissing him to answer.

Jude’s arms come up, wrapping around Ewan, and he whimpers when Ewan’s hand leaves his cock. After a bit of scuffling about, his boxers are gone, along with Ewan’s pyjama bottoms, and they’re pressed against each other, skin to skin. There’s another man’s cock against his, another man’s tongue in his mouth, and he’s vaguely aware that he should be more surprised at this fact, but it’s Ewan. Ewan touching him, kissing him, thrusting against him til his breathing is ragged in Jude’s ear. Ewan shuddering and coming, cock pulsing hotly against Jude’s groin.

Jude groans, fingers digging into Ewan’s arms, and it’s not long before he’s coming, too. Panting, he sinks back against the bed, utterly exhausted. He stretches out, enjoying Ewan’s weight and warmth, and when Ewan starts snoring, he doesn’t push him away.