(Subtext is for cowards.)
This fic comes with a soundtrack! of sorts. Listen along if you can or want to!
Nate had been utterly confused by Julian's decision to negotiate all this record label reunion stuff solely through Jeff. You HATE Jeff, man, Nate had thought, What the hell's your game? His confusion and frustration only grew when Jules requested a meeting between the two of them-- sent through Jules's asshole lawyer this time-- at their old rehearsal space in the middle of an Oakland industrial park.
Nate knew he had to agree to it, if only to give Jules a piece of his mind about all the bullshit he'd put him through. Eight years without a phonecall, a fax. Not even a generic Christmas card. Eight years of quietly watching Jules rise from his own ashes, eight years of seeing Jules hone himself into something equally beautiful and severe, thin but not frail, delicate but not fragile, otherworldly but certainly not angelic. Cutting smiles, piercing eyes. Hair eventually long enough to reach his ass, still buzzed on one side and draped carefully over the other. Almost always dressed head to toe in black (with only the occasional accent of another deep, dark color), diamond and pearl earrings stark against it all like stars on a cold clear night. If the Jules that left Nate in anger and despair eight years ago had been striving (unsuccessfully) towards becoming untouchable, the Jules that had invited him to this old warehouse appeared to had finally reached it. --Well, he'd have to see about that. Nate had gotten good at getting the ice queen to melt by the time he left the first time, and that was the other reason he knew he had to agree to this. Someone had to remind Jules he was human.
"...Jules?", Nate called out as he opened the warehouse door. Outside of the door closing behind him, it was silence. And then-- near-pitch darkness. He jumped at it, swore, had an immediate thought to open the door back up again, if only to let in some light. As soon as he turned around to leave (maybe find a payphone, or a generator, or something, anything), he heard a simple drum machine beat echo through the space. "....The fuck?", He muttered as he turned towards the sound. Guitar, bass, and soft keyboard pads swelled up behind the beat after a few measures, by which point Nate could recognize the tune. Pointer Sisters, really?
Something's wrong... things aren't right....
No, of-fucking-course it would be the fucking Pointer Sisters. Cheeseball.
"Alright Jules, I get it; you can turn the fuckin' lights back on now!", Nate called out. No response outside of one of the Sisters.
You walk out.... I get mad... and we both just end up feelin' bad...
YOU walked out, Jules. After screwing everyone else over.
Through the heat... of the fight.... and the trouble that we're going through....
Tough to feel any heat when you've been a frigid bitch every time I've tried to reach out to you.
There's no harm, there's no danger..... cause our love is really tried and true....
The only direction left was forward. Towards the music. Going back now was out of the question-- Jules was pissing him off too much. The chorus of Sisters washed over him and bounced off every wall as he inched his way forward step by step.
And I want ya here beside me, I need you...
He couldn't believe he remembered the layout of the warehouse as well as he did. It helped that it was mostly empty space in the first room-- a foyer of sorts. As much as the music echoed around and confused him, following the voices still helped him avoid bumping into the back wall of the first hallway.
'Cause nobody's gonna love me the way that you do...
This hallway went to the left. There were doors on the left side for men and women's restrooms, three doors on the right side that opened up into their own smaller soundproofed practice spaces, and a fourth door that led to the main rehearsal area. That door, he discovered, was open already.
Baby, won't you come and hold me, hold me in your arms...
A few steps in and he heard the door quietly click shut behind him.
Didn't I tell you that I need you?
Nathan felt a hand swiftly slide into his hair and pull. Before he could react he was yanked backward against someone's chest and the dull side of a knife blade was pressed gently against his throat. Okay, so Jules is just going to fucking kill me, then. Great.
Although we're gonna fight sometimes, I need you.... by my side.... please don't walk away, and we'll be fine....
Jules was singing along, now, in Nathan's ear. He was singing, rocking him gently in a dance, caressing the side of his neck with the knife blade. Nathan wanted to fight. He wanted to grab the stupid knife from Jules's freak fucking hand and knee him in his fucking hard-on. But his voice... it was just as beautiful and soulful as it always was. More, maybe, somehow. And he hadn't heard it this close for eight fucking years.
You know I want you, you know I need you, got to have you by my side....
Nathan sighed, melted into Jules's arms, and the blade at his neck was folded up and removed, replaced with a hand. He melted even more. He hated himself for it.
You know I want you, you know I need you, got to have you by my side....
As the song faded out, all the lights flipped themselves back on. The sudden brightness blinded Nate for a moment, but he could feel Jules stroke his hair, kiss his forehead. The proud, wild look in Julian's eyes came into focus soon enough. "Oh, Nathan, you're such a good boy."
Nathan let out an angry sigh. "And you're a fuckin' sicko, man." Jules let out a small burst of quiet, twinkling laughter before nuzzling his face into Nate's hair and breathing it in, quietly moaning it out. "Nathan, sweetheart, you were the one who decided to wander around an empty warehouse in the dark. I didn't lock the door behind you. You could've walked out. You know I’m not unfair." He kissed Nate's head, started stroking his neck again, and Nate was limp in his arms. Jules had so much power over him. Still. Maybe even more than before. Godgodgodgodgod-- "Don't think, just go with the feeling, right, Nathan? And that's exactly what you did, because you knew this feeling was waiting for you at the end, and that I'm the only one who can give it to you."
"Yeah, well, I'm the only one who can give you what you want, too. And you folded first 'cause you missed it so much. It's a two way street.", Nate retorted as soon as he found the strength within him to speak. Jules's proud smile widened. "Oh, I know that, silly boy. I just had to know without a doubt that you knew that. Turn around."
There Jules was bossing him around again as if no time had passed, and there Nathan was doing exactly as he said, with barely any hesitation. He had missed him. So fucking much. And he had to admit to himself, now, that he'd very much wanted to see and experience the steely-cold beauty Jules had so carefully cultivated up close. When it came down to it, a part of him always wanted to balance along the edge of a knife blade.
Jules moved his hand up to the side of his face. "You still look like a fucking angel.", he murmured, "Kiss me."
"You don't have to tell me to kiss you for me to wanna kiss you, man."
"I know. You've put up with me this long though, haven't you? Humor me just a little more, won't you, Nathan?"
Nathan sighed again, and one side of his pouty lips quirked up into a small smile. "Yes, Jules." He kissed him gently at first, crescendoed into something deeper and deeper, before Jules untangled their tongues and pulled away slightly. Smiled. "Good boy."
They both melted into each other after that, fell into the roles they'd practiced the entire year before Jules left, continued their dance.
You know I want you, you know I need you, got to have you by my side....