Chapter 4: The Secrets Behind the Benefits

Hey, you've reached Sammy. Leave me a message. I probably won't call you back. Unless you're hot. Then I'll call you back.


I sigh before speaking. "Hey, Sammy. It's Jack again." I press my free hand against my forehead and exhale slowly. "You can't keep avoiding me, you know. Eventually I'll get sick of you ignoring me, and I'll just come over and see you and force you to talk to me. In fact, that sounds like a good idea. I'm coming over."

I hang up, shove on my shoes, and trot down the stairs.

Sammy's mom answers the door when I get to Sammy's house. Wow. What a concept. Sammy's mom at Sammy's house? Huh.

"Hi, Mrs. Brighton," I greet cheerfully. "Is your darling son home?"

Mrs. Brighton nods and lets me into the house. I kick off my shoes like a good little boy.

"Sammy's a little...peeved," Mrs. Brighton warns me before I can go on my merry way to Sammy's room. "He's been snapping at me all day and avoiding all of his phone calls. Maybe you can make him feel better? I'm not sure what's wrong."

She looks genuinely worried, and I fail miserably at trying to ignore the guilt sinking in my stomach.

"I'll see what I can do," I reply, trying to come off as optimistic as I was when I walked in the door.

I don't even bother knocking on Sammy's door. I just barge in. If he's jacking off, it's not like I haven't seen him doing worse. Or done worse to him.


Luckily, though, he's not jacking off. He's sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer. When the door creaks open, he looks over at me.

And then he goes back to typing.

"Hi, Sammy," I mumble, plopping myself nicely on his neatly made bed.

He ignores me.

Well then, douchebag.

"You can't keep ignoring me just because I'm gay and I like you, you know," I say casually, tapping my fingers anxiously on my thighs. "Giving me the silent treatment will only piss me off. You can either have a happy Jack who's gay for you, or an extremely pissed off Jack who's gay for you."

Sammy doesn't even budge. He just stares at the screen that's open on his computer.

I get up and open a window, letting some air flow through the stuffy room.

"I'd go with the happy Jack, if I were you," I continue, sitting back down on the bed.

Finally, Sammy gives a sign that he's at least acknowledging my presence. He pushes his chair back and scoots over to the window so that he can shut it again.

I watch miserably as he rolls the chair back to his desk.

"You're making way too big a deal out of this, Samuel," I say quietly. "Just because I like you doesn't mean that you have to feel anything back. I mean, it'll hurt me if you don't, but....I'd rather have you as a friend than not at all."

Sammy pauses, and the chair tilts back a fraction of an inch like he's trying to listen to me. My heart jumps a little in agonizing anticipation, but then sinks again when he resumes typing.

"Are you just mad because we made out and I jerked you off and then you found out that I like you?" I demand, standing up and crossing my arms even though he can't see my anger with his back turned.

The click-click-click of the keyboard falters for a moment, and I bite my lip and clench my fists.

"That's it, isn't it?" I finally snap. "You're pissed off at me because you think I was using you and getting some sick, one-sided pleasure out of being with you."

This time, the hesitation in the typing is less noticeable. But it's still there.

"You're so ridiculous!" I exclaim. "All of that stuff we did didn't mean anything to me in that way! I wasn't getting off at the thought of you coming over and making out with me! It was unemotional for me as it was for you. But then I realized that I liked you and I tried my hardest to stop things so that me liking you wouldn't compromise our friendship. Too bad you were too fucking thick to take the hint that I wanted to stop all of that shit. This is all your fault and you know it now."

Sammy stands up and whirls around so fast that I haven't even blinked since finishing my sentence.

"Get the hell out of here, Jack," Sammy hisses. "Yes, that's obviously why I'm mad. Did you think I wouldn't freak out at finding out that my best friend that I've given a handjob has a crush on me?"

His words are dripping with malice, and the way he talks about me....Well, he's talking about me like I'm shit.

"I just told you I wanted to stop so that it wouldn't ruin our friendship," I say fiercely through my building tears. "But you needed a fucking reason. So I told you."

"Yeah, and how long have you been hiding that from me?" Sammy shouts, his voice going hoarse.

"Does it fucking matter?" I yell, my fingernails digging into my sweaty palms. I don't tell him five months.

"Sort of."

Sammy and I stare at each other for a few moments, our eyes locked. His are hard and emotionless, and mine are blurring with tears.

Finally, I voice another one of my worries.

"D-do you have a problem with me being gay?" I whisper pathetically.

Sammy shakes his head, and I momentarily feel relieved until I hear his next words.

"I couldn't care less that you're gay. I honestly don't give a shit."

Some traitorous tears start to leak down my cheeks. I wipe them away furiously and stare down at the cream-colored carpet, my vision getting even blurrier.

"So then why?" I mumble, refusing to look up. "Give me a goddamn legitimate answer! I want to know what you have a problem with."

Sammy sits back down at his desk and sets his jaw, refusing to look at me now.

"I have a problem with you liking me."

The tears spill over freely now.

"Why?" I ask, my voice verging on hysterical. "Why is that such a big deal? You don't have to like me back! And you can't stop me from liking you no matter how hard you try!"

"I know that," Sammy mutters, sighing. "But I's so weird to have given you a handjob and gotten a handjob from you and made out with you and showered with you and....All I can think about is that you liked it and that you wanted it to go further and....God, I don't even know anymore."

I tremble a little and then sit down on the bed so that I won't fall over.

"I already told you," I say, my voice still weak, "I wanted to end it so that I wouldn't start to get my hopes up. I wasn't going to be some freak who used you because I knew I wouldn't be able to have you otherwise."

Sammy finally looks up at me, his eyes wide.

But he doesn't say anything.

I take a deep breath and stare down at the floor.

"So that's it, then?" I mumble. "You're going to hate me just because I like you?"

Sammy still doesn't say anything. He opens his mouth like he wants to reply, but then shuts it again.

That's all the confirmation I need.

"Fine," I manage to choke out, my throat tightening as I stumble my way towards his door. "Fine. Just forget about me, then, and I'll try to forget about you. I guess you think things'll be easier if we're out of each other's lives."

I barely make it down the hall and out of his room when I run smack-dab into Mrs. Brighton.

"Jack, honey, what happened to you?" she exclaims, her hands setting on my shoulders and stopping me from getting out the front door.

I take a look at her and the caring expression on her face and then shake my head. "I d-don't want to talk about it. I...I'm going home."

"No, you're not," Mrs. Brighton tells me firmly, steering me into the kitchen. "Tell me what happened."

I shake my head stubbornly. "I want to go home, Mrs. Brighton."

"You're not going home until you tell me why you just came running out of my son's bedroom in tears."

"Because he h-hates me, that's why," I croak, sniffing a little.

Mrs. Brighton stares at me, her jaw dropped. While I try to calm down my breathing, she lets my words sink in.

Eventually, she shakes her head. "Sammy could never hate you."

"Well, he does now," I reply, barely managing not to wail or start bawling my eyes out.

"What on earth would give him reason to hate you?" Sammy's mom snaps, her eyes flashing.

I clench my jaw and shake my head. "Ask him."

"You can tell me, honey."

"It'll be the weirdest conversation ever," I say, stalling.

The look on her face tells me that I could say that I'm a psycho murderer and she wouldn't care.

I try desperately to ignore the blood rushing to my face when I blurt, "I like Sammy."

Mrs. Brighton blinks. " him?"

"Yeah," I mumble. "I'm gay and I like him. And I told him and he hates me now."

She stares at me with wide eyes. "But I thought you two were already dating."

It's my turn for my jaw to drop.

"What?" I yelp. "You think we're going out?"

"Well, yes," she says, her eyes curious. "I never confronted you two about it, but I always assumed...." She sighs and smiles at me. "I guess I was wrong. But he always talks about you like he likes you, and, well, I walked past his room one time and saw the two of you...kissing. And to me, that does imply that you're...together."

"You saw us?" I exclaim. "Um...."

Wow, awkward. How am I supposed to tell her that I was messing around with her son for the past year?

"Yes, I did. Is there something else going on?" she asks in a gentle voice that demands that I tell her everything.

"Well, yeah," I mumble. "I mean, Sammy and I have been...experimenting with each other for a while. But he never knew that I'm gay. That's why he freaked out."

Mrs. Brighton looks too amused to possibly be in mom-mode right now.

"I see." Her lips curl up in a smile. "And it's never crossed your mind that the fact that you've been 'experimenting' with each other implies that Sammy likes you, at least a little bit?"

I blink a few times. "Huh?"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but last I checked, straight boys don't experiment with their friends and stay straight." She shrugs and gets up to pour a glass of water. "Maybe Sammy doesn't realize it, but then again, he's never been the most perceptive boy."

Wow. This is the most awkward conversation ever. I can't believe that Sammy's mom is telling me that her son is gay.

"Right. Well. This is a lovely conversation and all, but I think I need to go home."

I stand up to leave, but she pulls me back again.

"You're not leaving until you talk to Sammy again," she tells me firmly.

And at that moment, I hear a voice from down the hall. "Mom, I'm going over to Jack's house, I- Jack? I thought you left."

I gulp and stare at Sammy, who just walked down the hall, his phone in his hand.

"Um, your mom cornered me and weaseled a ton a stuff out of me," I mumble. "Sorry. I can go now, if you want."

"Dude, I was just going to go over to your house." Sammy raises an eyebrow. "Just stay here. I don't want to waste the gas."

I glare at him, and then Mrs. Brighton clears her throat.

"Well, actually, as much as I'd love to have my two favorite hormone-fueled boys in my kitchen, I'd rather not have this table get put in any compromising situations. Maybe you should go over to Jack's, hmm?"

Sammy and I both ogle at Mrs. Brighton.

"MOM!" Sammy finally yelps. "I can't believe you just said that."

Mrs. Brighton just smiles cheerfully at us and waves. "Have fun, boys."

Once she's skipped happily out of the room, Sammy looks at me.

"Wanna go over to your house and talk about this?" he asks uncomfortably.

I nod numbly and follow him out the door.

"Where's your car, dude?" Sammy asks, now staring at the curb.

"I walked. We can take your car. I'm tired. And I got sweaty on the way over here."

"It's January. How did you get sweaty?" Sammy asks, getting into his car. I try to climb through the window but instead just open the door and get in as well.

"I, um, I ran, actually," I mutter. "Fast."

Sammy snorts.

And there ends our conversation.

When we arrive at my house, we wind up sitting in the car for quite a while. I try several times to open the door, but every time my hand goes to the handle, Sammy locks it. I unlock it. He locks it again.

This continues for a few minutes. Lock, unlock. Lock, unlock.

"Just let me get out!" I finally snap in frustration.

Sammy keeps one hand on the lock button and then cups my chin in his other hand.

"I called Mariah after you left my room. And I dumped her."

"I don't give a shit about what you do with that slut, Sammy," I reply nastily.

"I dumped her because I don't want to hurt you."

"Well, thanks for the consideration. But you hurt me enough already, so it's pretty much pointless for you to try and make things better." I whack his hand away from my face. "And don't touch me."

"I can think of something that might make this better," Sammy says, ignoring me. "I overheard everything you and my mom were talking about."

"I thought you thought I left," I accuse, narrowing my eyes at him.

He shrugs. "I lied so you wouldn't freak out that I was eavesdropping?" he explains feebly. "Sorry. But, um, Mom got me thinking about this mess we got ourselves into."

"And?" I prompt, staring nervously at him.

"Well, I finally realized that she's right." He raises an eyebrow and smiles in self-amusement. "Making out with you does not make me the straightest ruler in the office supply store."

"Uh, what?" I choke.

Sammy smirks at me. "I think I like you, Jack."

Next thing I know, I've pinned Sammy against the door and am kissing him like there's no tomorrow.

Wow, I wish he wasn't such an idiot.


A/N: Um. Next chapter is the last. And it's going to be smut, sorry XD I love my smut, what can I say? Haha. If you don't like boisecks, pretend this is the last chapter. There might be a little bit of plot next one, though....

Oh yeah. You finally get to find out who bottoms :D Lol.

That is all. I'm not feeling author's note-y.

This story is a big pile of plotless shit! It's my excuse to write smut. Seriously. I'm using it for that. I'm practicing for the sex scenes in my other story, Just Because....Haha. But yes. I am aware that this is fairly predictable. Hopefully it's still fun. lol.

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