Work Text:
The year the Northside shore gets a music venue is one of the best years of their lives. Drinks flow, joints are passed, and bodies grind together under the thrum of a deep, ebbing bass that rides over the sound of the ocean.
They’re twenty two and in love, all of them, taking turns between situationships and romances that fizzle out faster than their poorly poured beers lose their foamed tops.
In the middle of it all is John B and JJ, stuck together like glue as their friends boo at them for finding their person while the rest of them are left to fish the sea.
Every Saturday night finds them queuing up to get wristbands and stamped hands, beers and mixed drinks, as they make their way to the main stage.
It’s a big enough outdoor venue for hundreds of people to cram in front of the stage and surrounding bars and food tents.
Tonight it’s packed enough that John B’s hands find their way to JJ’s hips to guide him through the crowd.
“You good?” He checks in, up against JJ’s back.
All he gets is a nod, JJ following Pope, who’s following Kie, who’s following Sarah.
Their push to the stage gets them pressed against the barrier, people filling in behind them as more and more groups flock closer.
With the pulse of the crowd and it’s shifting lean, JJ’s hands find their way around Kie, holding the barrier on each side of her to keep their little group together. It’s only with a short glance that John B lets his eyes trail down his boyfriend, from his protective posture, backwards hat, and cut off shirt that leads down to ripped jeans and black boots.
The party scene has always been JJ’s element and this venue has proved to be just as homey as the boneyard was when they were younger.
Like a moth to flame, John B finds himself leaning towards JJ to wrap a hand low on his hip to quell the growing need to touch him. “You want a beer?”
Really, John B wants JJ drunk and handsy, happy in the way he always is after a good night out. JJ’s sparkling eyes that land on John B feel all knowing. “Do you have to ask?”
“No,” John B agrees, heating under his gaze.
“There’s, like, zero subtlety going on right now between you two,” Pope tells them both with just enough judgment that John B finds himself stepping back in innocence.
“Just seeing if the man wants a drink,” John B defends. Still his eyes fall back on JJ, watching the way he leans down to say something to Kie that gets lost in the sound of the crowd around them.
Somedays, John B aches for them to be open enough to have JJ pressed to the barrier while John B crowds his back.
Instead, JJ turns from Kie with a smile on his face that settles into something sweeter at John B’s wanting stare. “The lady wants a Whiteclaw.”
“A beer and a white claw and…” John B passes over Pope, looking to Sarah.
“Cherry Whiteclaw, if they have it,” she nods, before Pope cuts over her, “just because I’m the only one willing to point out the sexual tension—”
“For that, you’re coming with me,” John B argues right back, pushing Pope back out the way they came. It’s so much more crowded now, the opener minutes from going on.
“JJ seems good tonight,” Pope mentions casually once they’re far enough away from the buzzing sound of hundreds of people. The bar is dead, just a handful of people milling about or lost in the view of the ocean stretching out in the background.
“Yeah,” John B agrees, thankful for it. “We’re in a weird streak right now, he’s going almost like two days between seizures sometimes.” The summer months have always been harder, the heat and potential dehydration a trigger that they try to avoid while working two outdoor jobs and living in a fishing shack. It’s not easy. Somedays it’s not even possible to avoid them.
Pope taps his card on the bar top, reiterating their order before turning back to John B as the bartender starts pulling drinks. “Did he have one yet today?”
“An absent one this morning.” It wasn’t bad at all. JJ stopped in the middle of their hallway, his stare blank and Sarge’s nudging nose begging him on as John B froze right along with him, peering at him from the kitchen to make sure he was alright. Only seconds passed before JJ was suddenly walking again, slowing to a stop once he realized something was off.
“So he’s not due for one,” Pope agrees, knocking superstitiously at the bar top.
After they return, the drinks only last so long. John B feels like it’s minutes that they spend reunified with their friends before JJ’s chugging down the last of his drink. “I’m gonna grab another, you guys good?”
John B finds himself looking down at his own warm, half empty cup, and decides there’s really no use trying to stay sober. The rest is downed, beer spilling as he’s pushed forward a foot with the crowd. If JJ’s going out there, John B’s going with.
“You kids be good,” he yells to them, motioning Pope to grab the barrier next to Sarah to keep her and Kie both from getting crushed. It’s with one last look back that he’s following JJ’s bobbing head through hoards of bodies pressing in.
When they finally break through, the cold air greets them like a blessing. “It’s hot as hell in there,” JJ complains, glancing all around for the best beer stand to go to.
John B eyes are on the sunset, the beach close enough to call to him. “Want to sit by the water?”
He can see JJ trying to read him, something like suspicion in his sporadic gaze that cant stop looking from the stage, to the beer tents, to the people shoving past them. “You trying to get me alone, John B?”
“Something like that,” he agrees, the same, sweltering tension somehow back and as thick in the air between them as it was before when John B’s fingers were digging into JJ’s hip.
An officer passes them, patting JJ’s back in a subtle greeting that has both of them smiling dumbly at one another. “Who would’ve thought, little old me getting a hello?” JJ asks him, shaking his head.
“He’s probably trying to keep tabs on you,” John B agrees, “you’re too much trouble.”
“Shoupe does knows we’re here tonight,” JJ admits, “bet he told the officers assigned as security tonight.”
“He’s a helicopter parent,” John B teases him. “Always hovering.”
It’s nearly perfect timing that JJ’s phone dings, a text from Shoupe on the screen that John B hooks his chin over JJ’s shoulder to read.
“Heard that you and John B are at the Beach Note Bar,” it reads, making John B muffle his laugh in JJ’s neck.
JJ sends back a helicopter emoji with John B’s snorting approval.
Shoupe’s reply comes quickly, the text bubbles popping up and down before his message finally comes through. “If that’s your way of telling me that you’re being airlifted somewhere right now, you’re grounded.
“Oh God,” John B breaths out, shaking his head at the worry.
“It’s a helicopter,” JJ types back. “Cuz ur a helicopter parent.”
Shoupe dislikes JJ’s message before another one is coming in right behind it. There’s an eye rolling emoji and three simple but serious words, “Be safe, Jay.”
They watch the sun set over the water, curled together on the beach, before making their way back to their friends.
For a night, they get to be kids again, drinking in the summer’s breeze while dancing to the band’s music until there’s no choice but to limp their way back home.
“My feet hurt,” Sarah complains until JJ carries her in a piggyback the rest of the way home.
He feels sixteen again, like nothing could stop them all from doing the impossible.
Tonight, the impossible is a three tier piggyback, JJ jumping onto John B’s back while Sarah clings to JJ with a muffled scream.
“Can we make it four?” John B taunts from under their weight as he tries to get to Pope. Kie, behind them, tries to catch Sarah as she squirms off of JJ’s back and to the safety of the ground.
“Next time,” JJ promises John B, still attached to him like a backpack.
“Next time,” John B agrees.
They get this now, this freedom, this choice, to be carefree.
It’s what they were really looking for all along.