Interchange

Title: Interchange
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Jake Gyllenhaal/ Heath Ledger
Word Count: 4,176
Rating: NC17
Summary: Jake moves into Heath’s home in New York.

Disclaimer: I do not know Jake Gyllenhaal, Heath Ledger, or any of their friends, relatives, etc. You may find a detail or two sounding like facts, but listen up, this story is pure fabrication. All factual details are obliterated when read within the context of the story. I’m writing for pure entertainment and the source is my imagination.

Today, it’s move day. Jake is moving into my home. Nah, it’s our home now. It’s been coming for a long time. I knew back then Jake was dangerous to me, from the time we stayed up there in Calgary making a film that would change our lives.

I’m already on the stairs making the first gesture, humping up two rather large suitcases filled with clothes and whatever. One of the suitcases belongs to him.

There’s a thumping noise behind me and I hear a sudden shout out. “Move out of the way, old man.” I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. Jake rushing up and he knocks me into the wall off to my right side, and then he squeezes his body between the railing and me, the one piece of luggage he carries bounce off my leg. Of course the luggage is his. God, he’s such a flake.

“I’m only two years older, goofball.”

He leans over a smirk on his face staring at me. “You’re just jealous. Not everyone can be young and handsome such as moi.”

His face is just this close to me. Temptation is futile (I read that in a script) and I couldn’t resist what’s in front of me, so I decided to take advantage of the situation. I lick his mouth. Not to be outdone, he smooches me right back, and then takes off, laughing evilly.

I watch him, filling up my eyes with the sight of a broad back and slim hips, rounding the curve of the stairs until he’s out of sight. Only then do I restart for my original destination before I was rudely interrupted by one lovely man. He doesn’t like being called lovely, says it sounds like I’m describing a girl. When I’m not in the mood and Jake picks on me, I use his Achilles’ heel: Have a nice day, lovely. What’s for dinner, lovely? A man has to have means for deflecting the jokester.

We’d been traveling all day to New York, after I spent a month in LA helping Jake pack up furniture and clothes, helping him with choices of what to take with him and what should be put into storage. Some items he gave away to his friends, Matt and Austin, a few others, and to his parents.

During the entire visit, I harassed Donna, my PA, at least twice a week for a progress report. I drove her crazy while I was in New York. “Go and pester Jake. I’ll have everything ready when you two come home,” she pleaded. I smile remembering her words. I like Donna and keep her on the payroll to handle my business even when I’m not filming. We’ve established an easy rapport and she ignores me when I get moody or offensive. She takes my shit in stride.

Now that we’re back in NY, she was probably home kicking up her heels and drinking a glass of wine to this monumental event. A bonus maybe in the offering if all goes well.

I look up and down the hallway and don’t see Jake, so I assume he has gone on to the master bedroom. Anticipation sends butterflies to my stomach thinking on Jake’s reaction at the surprise awaiting him there in the bedroom. Will he appreciate it? This question has been bothering me since we boarded the plane in LA. If it were my nature I’d bounce down the hallway in excitement but this describes Jake, not me. I’ve come to terms I will never be the exuberant type, or the nice person wearing rose-colored glasses like a certain person I know.

The door to the bedroom stands halfway opened. I lay my shoulder on it and push it, wide enough for my suitcases and me to go through the door. Darkness hits me. Not what I expected, just like the seed of annoyance growing in my chest at Jake’s apparent lack of consideration. He could’ve at least turned on the lights. Sometimes I think he takes practical jokes too far and as I’m making silent complaints inside my head, I brace myself for a body attack.

Nothing happens. I set the suitcases down and reach behind me to flip the switch for the lights. The lights reveal Jake is not within sight. “Where ever you are,” I say, “come out.” I peep inside the walk-in closets, back track across the bedroom to look in the master bathroom. I think I’m going to kill Jake our first night home.

Because now he has me searching the bedrooms and still Jake remains elusive. I walk down to the other end of the hall, getting peeved, and open up the door to the last room. Jake is there standing by the window, looking out.

“Did you get lost, luv?” I ask, thrusting my hands into my jeans’ pocket. I lean against the doorjamb, wondering why Jake is hanging out in this room.

“The refrigerator is fully stocked,” he says, glancing over at me.

“That’s good,” I tell him. “We won’t have to go out food shopping.” Smart girl, that Donna. I wasn’t looking forward to going to the supermarket. I could sleep for a week. I need routine. Haven’t felt normal for months now.

“The view is beautiful from here,” Jake says. He’s back to staring out the window. “How come I don’t remember seeing it?”

“Don’t know. Don‘t spend any time in this room.” I love the gardens. Cold or hot, I go out there and sit and think and let the peace there settle over me. It’s my private Eden away from a close city of people, bricks, cars, and noise, when the city gets too overwhelming.

“Why not?”

“I’ve everything I need in the other bedroom. There’s the Jacuzzi in the master bath. You do remember don’t you? The other room has more space and the view of the gardens is just as great.” I rub against the doorjamb to scratch the itch annoying my back. “Why the questions about bedrooms?”

“This is large enough.” Jake’s eyes are roaming over the room.

“True. Nothing like the cardboard box I used to sleep in at home,” I say, smiling.

“Australia?”

“That would be the place. What’s going on, G?” He seems change, his mood quiet and deliberate. I recognize the body language. Something is troubling him but I don’t have a clue what’s causing it.

“I want to move into this room.”

“Say what?”

“You heard me.” Now he moves away from the window, slowly making his way to the bed, and when he sits down, his hands clasp together between his legs.

I stay by the door, confused at the unexpected request. We’ve just arrived here, our first night together as a committed couple and he wants his own bedroom. What does this mean? Have I done something wrong? Damn.

I went to Jake and plop down on the bed next to him. “Why here?” I ask trying to keep my voice even tempered. “Because of the gardens?”

“Well now you know.”

“Jake…” I moan. “What the hell happen between the first and second floors? We were fine.”

“I saw this room. I like it. I want to move in it. The view is great, just like you said, man.”

Every word he utters sound fucking lame. “Okay. I get it. You want your own room.” I stand up, blood rushing to my head. This isn’t what I envisioned – Jake in one bedroom and me in another – as if he’s renting space from me. I pace the floor and then I realize I was pacing the floor. I bring my thumb to my mouth and begin biting the hangnail. That’s better, frustration taken out on a nail, the pain aids in keeping me levelheaded.

I stop pacing and place my body in front of Jake who’s looking down, hiding away from me. Is there something more interesting down there on the floor? You got some explaining to do I want to say.

He hasn’t looked at me since I came to the bedroom. With amazing clarity I talk to the top of his head. “It’s all right, G. I understand what you need. You’ve changed your mind and this is your way of telling me. Don’t drag it out. Get on with it and tell me straight up.” Then I move away. I want to hit something; yell at something; I want us to go back to LA and start over again.

“Heath?” I hear. “Sit the fuck down.”

I couldn’t obey fast enough. I rush over to his side, bumping knees sitting down, but I don’t touch him with my hands.

“This isn’t about you. Not really.” He’s twisting his hands, one over the other, into a tight ball.

“What is it? Can I help? Did someone threaten you?” I’m so relieved he asked me to come to him; I’m pulling at straws. He has been receiving threatening fan letters since we came out to the public.

“I should be over this by now. Water under the dam. I ran up the stairs. It all came rushing back at me, Heath. I walked down the same hallway with so much hope, willing to concede to your wishes, and there you were in bed with her.”

“Please…” My voice trails off. Oh fuck, not this. I don’t want to hear this, don’t want to listen. I thought we’ve gotten beyond my stupid-assed duplicity.

“No hear me out. It may seem childish, and yeah, I know I said I forgive you. This house was like my second home. I helped you move in, helped you decorate it. Even some of my stuff is still here. She left a part of herself in my place, and I fucking hate it. Do you hear me. I hate it.”

He speaks while the heel of his hand rubs over his eyes, pressuring down on them.

I reach out to move his hand away from his face. Let my fingers trail down to his neck, stroking the soft skin there. Despite what Jake has said, I did have something to do with this. Over a total stranger. I don’t even remember the woman’s name. She’s back to haunt us, to mess up the best relationship I will ever have.

My fault, I think, shaking my head. A quick lay to drown out my pity wasn’t worth it. I should’ve hunt him down, never let him leave NY after he walked out on me.

But you were a damn chook, too coward to admit you were afraid. Isn’t that the real reason why you moved clear across the country. Didn’t want anyone finding out you were in love with a man. Shit has a way of coming right back at you when you least expected it.

And there are parts of me I will never explain to Jake. They would hurt too badly.

We sit quietly each with our thoughts, my fingers still stroking Jake, keeping him close to me. I think I might have the solution to our dilemma and sleeping in separate bedrooms won’t solve the problem.

“I broke my promise to you,” I hear myself telling Jake. I can tell him this so he’ll know I do love him.

“What promise?” He hasn’t moved away from under my fingers but he hasn’t looked at me either. Jake can be quiet at the oddest times.

I absorb every single detail of his side profile, taking in the line of his mouth, lips, nose, and the thick eyebrows above the sad puppy dog eyes. A look I put on that face. Jake is intelligent and sensitive, gives himself over when I think he should be more reserve. He deserves better.

“I made this promise when we first got together. I would treat you better than Kiki and George. I would watch over you and make you happy. I fucked up bad, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way. Shit happens and we found ourselves on this other road, speeding to a place we don’t want to be in. The promises we make in sincerity broken like shattered glass. How can I expect more when nothing seems to work to my liking.” And his head drops further down slipping away from my hand.

What I said next is what I clearly think is best. “I’m sorry. Maybe we’re not ready to make the big move-in together. Maybe you need time alone to think. I can wait.” Will wait forever if necessary.

“Shit.” Jake is up off the bed. He grabs my hand and pulls me up to a standing position.

We skip out of that bedroom in a whirlwind. My hand is held in a tight grip, bordering on pain. Jake is determined and I stumble wordlessly and hit my knee on the chair sitting in the hallway. “Ow.” Stupid chair.

“Come on,” Jake demands, pulling me, leaving me no choice but to follow him even as I try to steady myself.

We’re heading straight for the master bedroom and when we reach just inside the door, Jake stops moving and I run up against his back. The grip loosens and my hand drops to my side. “Whoa,” Jake says.

I hang back by the door, twisting my arms around my chest, hugging myself as Jake walks further into the room. It’s nice and it’s too late. Jake is leaving me.

“When did this happen?” he asks. He stands there with fingers fanning on his hips, eyes traversing the room.

“While I was with you in LA.”

He walks over to the floor lamp and sweeps a hand down the long curved silver pole. “I didn’t see this downstairs. I thought you had gotten rid of it.”

“That’s amazing, G. Why would I throw away your gift?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because I’m a dumbass, maybe.”

We laugh, the air lightens up and I breathe a little.

He goes to the center of the bedroom, snaps a finger and does a complete spin on the ball of his toes. Now that’s the Jake I know. His reaction gives me the courage to ask, “Do you like it?” I’m not going to ask: are you staying? Nor will I say: don’t leave me. The visual I have of Jake right now is competing with the one of a few minutes ago. Seems like another time and I don’t want to spoil it.

“You did this on purpose? Jake gives me a sharp look.

“Yes.”

“Damn,” he says, and I’m not sure I know what he means.

I have eyes only for Jake, though. I’m getting a kick seeing how he’s moving around the bedroom like a five-year old kid. It seems so simple to me. He picks up a picture of him and me and stares at it. He swipes a hand over the gleaming empty bookshelf I asked Donna to purchase. I dislike tripping over books on the floor. With Jake, books on the floor or covering up the entire table, none of it matters to him. I planned on having this long and serious discussion about the nature of orderliness. He lays back on this huge brown leather lounger, one foot on the floor, the other leg resting on the chair, and he presses the remote control to the new entertainment center. TV – on and off; radio – on and off, CD player – on an off. The style is kind of old folk to me. Wonder what Donna had in mind when she purchased that chair. My imagination conjures up interesting positions like Jake in my lap. Now I’m smirking. Ah, Donna, you naughty girl. We’re gonna have a discussion the next time I see you. Then, as though Jake is tire of playing with the gadgets, he walks over to the bed and put both hands flat on the bedcovers, testing the strength of the mattress.

He discovers I’m alive and I get such an intense look, the butterflies that were once dread turn lecherous. Oh yeah, I can get with that look, that walk, that blue narrow-eyed focus on me. It hurts looking at Jake, but Jake could carve me up with those eyes and the pain would be beautiful.

“This room is fucking fantastic,” he says, standing in front of me inches apart, breathing down on me. “You did this for us?”

“I did it for you.” I say. Yep, Donna definitely earns a bonus.

He fits his entire body on me, gluing himself to me so that I’m forced to lean back against the wall. He places a hand on the wall on each side of my head. He has me imprisoned. I’m captured by him and his body, and he moves on me, pressing his hips down on the spot that reminds me we’re good at something else. My breath comes out short and shallow. I’m pushing forward, feeling good. Our foreheads are together, neither one of us is doing any talking, we’re just moving in synch to an old, silent music, music we built with our bodies.

“Jake…”

He covers my mouth and swallows my words. The kiss intensifies, my head is pressing back on the wall. He’s moving and this time he wiggles an arm behind my back, pulls me into him, and he kisses me down the side of my face to my neck. I grip his hips tight with my fingers.

“It’s like you read my mind. Like you knew how I felt. I’m in awe of you,” he whispers in my ear.

What is he saying? The brain cells go south and I’m getting hot and sweaty and quite frankly, I’ve other thoughts on my mind. “I want you.”

“Do you,” he says, pulling back.

“Oh yeah.” I pull the hand from around my back and put it on my dick.

“See that gorgeous sleigh bed over there?”

“Yes.” Jake whole hand covers me, the fingers applying pressure, teasing me, it isn’t enough.

“Why don’t we christen it, baby.”

“Not a bad idea, luv” I say, and push into his hand.

Shoes, socks, and clothes come off, thrown to the floor like a trail from hell to heaven. We push, poke, grab each other, stumbling some as our legs and arms entangle. The bedroom holds sounds that are pure joy to me – giggles, moans, a hitch of breath. They exemplify how it should be, how I envisioned our homecoming.

When I get Jake to the bed, I take the upper hand and push him flat on his back. He uses his feet to scoot back and leave them flat on the bed, knees up, legs open. I place a hand on each leg, brushing the inside, touching his hot spots, feeling the legs twitch. Those knobby knees are a particular kink of mine. I crawl on to the bed, raising one of his legs, and kiss the underside of his knee. Jake wraps the other leg around my hips and tightens. “Come on, Heath. I need you down here.”

“Are we in a hurry?” I say, teasing him with another kiss. It’s my turn to make him hot, tune him to the taste of fine wine.

“We’re going to make this bed ours. Yours and mines, Heath. Make it like someplace new.”

“I got you, G.” I understand now Jake’s concerns and hurt. “This is our space and it belongs to no one but us. We’re starting over again.”

“Yeah, baby,” and he pulls me down giving me a kiss that makes me so hard I can hang a hat on it.

The room smells of raw sex, two bodies, new paint, and new furniture, mingling into one scent. We’ve been at each other throughout the night.

“Think I should have Donna buy us a fancy sign that say, ‘Here be Jake and Heath’s room,’ and have her hang it outside our bedroom door.” I’m brushing my fingers through his hair.

He twists around on my shoulder and staring up at me. “Don’t be an ass.” Then he says, “You know, that might not be a bad idea.”

“I couldn’t let you come back to the old room, G,” I say, staring down at him.

“I know and I love you for it.” Jake shifts up in the bed and pokes out his lips for a kiss.

I oblige him and let my body slide down to his side, pushing my leg between his. I whisper words in his ear and reaching back, searching the bed until I find it.

I slam the lube in his open palm. “Open it and put some in my hand.”

And kiss his lips trembling under my pressure as I spread the stuff over his hardening dick. He’s moaning. I tell him to slow down, luv, take deep breaths. I want him to be able to last.

When I think Jake can’t stand another touch, I lie down on my back and open up for him, drawing him over my chest. His eyes are unfocused, dreamy like. He’s surprise at my offering but I also think it’s lust making his eyes gleam, we are hot for one another. He crawls over me, kissing me on my chest, takes nips at my nipples, which sends shivers down my spine. “Oh.” I reach down and touch myself, bring my leg up further, my foot flat on the bed. Jake works both nipples, then scoots down leaving a trail of cool, wet, kisses over the chest and stomach.

A hand that’s not mine joins me and together we’re going up and down my length, fingers entwined. It feels so damn good, I’m throbbing, getting harder with each stroke. “I can’t take much more,” I say, barely. Not with him breathing on it, teasing me with his tongue.

“How are you doing?” He’s slipping a finger in me.

“I’m okay,” and hitch forward taking more of his finger.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yeah,” and I tell him to come here so I can apply more lube on him.

I think he knows I wanted it this way because Jake slides over my body without asking how or which position. I’m on my back, bringing up my knees and he’s going in, easy and slow, I pant letting my body become accustom to his size and having him inside of me.

“Ah…I’m there, Heath.” His mouth drops open and I reach up touching his lips and feeling the vibrations of his sounds against my skin.

“Yes, luv.” Relax now that I have him, I raise my legs and wrap them around his hips.

It isn’t often I receive and once I’m over the initial burn, I think, why the hell not. It’s hard for me to put in words what Jake does to me. He makes me feel weak and strong at the same time. Makes me want to give up everything I have to him. I want to hold him down on me, to feel the pounding of his body into me, to tighten the grip I have on his dick as he strokes in and out of me. I want Jake happy and I want his love.

“I can’t hold on, baby,” he says, picking up the pace.

“Give it to me, luv,” I say, gripping him tight and kissing the parts of him available to my mouth.

He buries deep inside me, his whole body tense and then let go. I follow him, spurting my climax on my stomach and on my hand. I ease my legs down as all of Jake’s weight falls on my body.

He wraps arms around me and buries his nose in my neck, tonguing me as if petting me. “I love you, Jake,” I say, shifting his weight on me and my fingers twisting his sweaty hair strands.

“Ditto,” he says. His voice is warm, soft, and sleepy.

I’m not ready to sleep just yet. Jake has crashed; his light snoring fills the room. Poor baby, I’ve worn him out. I shift in the bed and raise up on an elbow to study all the changes in the room. I like the cool gray-colored walls and the position of the bed in front of the huge window. It might be a bitch come morning with the sun beaming through the large window.

Jake snuggles close to my body, and he moans. I soothe him, patting him across the shoulders. He settles down under my ministrations. The draperies catch my attention; they are almost the same color as the walls. Later I’ll examine them, hoping they will cover the window and shut out unwanted light. This room is nice, more than I expected, and I think Jake and I will be spending most of our time here. We made a good start.

I had better get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and I know a certain person will wake up energetic and cheerful and be ready to drill me with questions.

End

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