(TRIGGER WARNING: brief mention of injury, implied abuse)

"What are you doing?" A voice growled from some few steps behind him. He didn't need to look up and into the bathroom mirror to know it was Jethro. It was always Jethro.

"Washing my hands?" Clark replied, as though it were a question. Surely Jethro could see that he was stood at the sink, sleeves pushed back just above his wrists and hands beneath the stream of water, and infer what was going on.

"You know that that's not what I meant." Jethro continued lowly, glaring at Clark's back as if it would make him turn around. Clark turned off the tap silently, seemingly unfazed. Jethro knew his best friend well enough to see the shift in his shoulders, to sense the change in the air. "What are you doing?" He repeated bitingly, slower and more annunciated than the first time.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Jethro." Clark replied flatly. Jethro's name had never sounded more similar to nails on a chalkboard or a fork being scraped on a plate. Hearing it shoved him closer and closer to the edge. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." That was it.

Before Clark could quite register what was going on, he was slammed harshly against the bathroom wall. Jethro had him pinned, his hands boxing in Clark's head and his neck craned to glare down at him wildly. Clark had lost all sense of fear all too long ago, staring back at Jethro with the same neutral expression. He lifted his hands to push Jethro back and out of his face, only for him to grab both of his wrists and slam them against the wall as well.

Clark yelped before he had the chance to stop himself, a pitiful noise Jethro had only ever heard once before and swore to never hear again, and Jethro immediately snapped to his senses.

He leant back, keeping Clark boxed in but giving him space to breathe, and searched Clark's face with wide eyes. "When? How many? Why didn't you tell me? Do they hurt?" Jethro bombarded, pulling at Clark's bandages to expose maybe six half-healed welts nestled amongst the thousands of scarred memories of similar occurrences that marred Clark's forearms. Clark attempted to pry himself from Jethro's grip, writhing against the cold tiles.

"Would you fucking shut up for a second?!" Clark roared, finally tearing his arms free and yanking the bandages back over his hands, making sure to thread his thumbs into the holes he'd cut. Jethro stared, taken aback by the sudden outburst, with his mouth slightly open in a half-formed question.

"I'm treating them, it's fine." Clark huffed, rubbing at the fabric and ignoring the way it scratched over raw and healing skin. "I'm safe here, there's no use worrying." He reasoned and Jethro ached to press more but a searing glare shut him down fast. They had agreed the first time Clark showed him: Jethro wouldn't ask questions.

(TRIGGER WARNING OVER)

"Look, what do you want, Jethro? Did you seriously just follow me into a public bathroom in order to pin me to the wall and pull off my bandages? Bit of a dick move, don't you think?" Clark grumbled, rubbing at the back of his head where it had bashed roughly against the wall. A dark, sticky guilt formed in Jethro's lungs.

"No I- you're acting weird. Why?" He squeezed, ever the articulate one. Clark was much too tired to have this conversation and, frankly, wanted to return to the group to finish lunch.

"You told me to stop messing with your head, so I stopped the flirting. You told me to stop being annoying so I'm being quiet and calm." He explained and Jethro's eyebrows knit in a confusion he didn't deserve.

"That's not what I wanted." Jethro pushed and Clark looked him dead in the eye. Jethro had never seen Clark look so resigned and downright tired.

"Then what do you want, Jethro?" He asked and the question hit harder than Jethro thought it would. The silence was tense and suffocatingly deafening.

"I..." Clark didn't let himself get hopeful "don't know..." and yet he still felt disappointed as he dropped his gaze with a sigh. He didn't need Jethro to say the words, he already knew it all too well. Jethro may never know what he wants, and yet Clark couldn't find it in his heart to stop loving him.

"But..." Clark looked up again in a careful sort of surprise and Jethro's eyes were unusually earnest. "I know that I don't want you to change, Lark. Not for me and not for anyone." He murmured, biting his lip nervously and searching Clark's face.

"Then I won't." Clark breathed softly after a short silence, Jethro finally stepping back enough to free him from the wall. He took a small step forward, peeling himself off of the cold tiles, and looked up at Jethro.

"And, when you figure out what it is that you want..." He took a moment to admire Jethro's ocean blue eyes. Those eyes would surely get him killed. "I'll be here."

With that, he sidestepped around his best friend and slipped out of the bathroom to rejoin the group before they moved on to Typhoon Lagoon. Jethro stood in a baffled silence before following him out wordlessly.

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@ClarkNotKent
Sorry for the short ad break folks

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retweets      likes
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@JeThrowMeAway
Welcome back
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@chiccennuggies
Clark: goes quiet
Ophelia: posts some cryptic shit ab Jethro not talking ab his feelings
Jethro: goes quiet
Both a few hours later: we back
Hmmmmmmmmm I'm thinkign @fleepfloop
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@OhOphelia
Y'all made up without getting drunk? I am s h o c k e d
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     @ClarkNotKent
     It's called ✨ character development ✨ Lia
     you should look into getting some
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There was still an unresolved tension in the air but it was the familiar, light and easy to ignore one that followed them all around. Everyone was grateful for a clearing in the suffocating atmosphere and Clark and Jethro had half the mind to apologise for making things awkward. The others seemed more than happy to move on from the subject though, so the two dropped it.

"How have you already burnt?" Clay asked, amusement clear in his tone, as he surveyed George's pink tinted shoulders. George just groaned, reaching a hand to rub at the sore skin as they waited for everyone to be ready to head to Typhoon Lagoon. He should have put on more sun screen.

"I have some aftersun if you want it?" Geo offered, searching through his bag. He could sympathise with George's ability to burn easily under the Floridian sun. George took it thankfully, only to have Clay pluck it from his hands. At George's confused look, he simply smiled and encouraged him to follow where they others had begun walking.

Clay hummed an unfamiliar tune as he began to massage the cold aftersun into George's shoulders, careful not to step on the backs of his heels. George wanted to make a comment about the fact that he was an adult and could do this himself but it felt oddly nice to be taken care of, so he stayed quiet.

Clay tried desperately not to say anything to ruin the moment, he really did, but the ache in his chest was just too much to bear. "Do you have to leave?" He asked quietly, sounding so much more youthful than he was. George wasn't expecting the question, nor was he expecting to think about the fact that he was leaving so soon. He sighed and lifted a hand to rest over one of Clay's. He nodded. "Can't you just stay?" Clay continued hopefully.

"I wish I could." George replied softly, running his thumb back and forth over Clay's knuckles.

"Then do." Clay said as he stepped to walk at George's side, keeping his hands over George's shoulders. "Move in with me and Vin, he won't mind and there's plenty of space." He reasoned and George shook his head despite how much he wished to say yes.

"I can't just stay. I still have the lease on my place back in London and I'd have to get an immigration Visa. It was hellish enough getting a regular Visa, I applied for it soon after you left and almost didn't get it in time." George explained responsibly, tucking himself under Clay's arm more securely. If anyone asked, he'd say it was to protect his shoulders from the sun.

"After the lease is up, move in with me. We can apply for an immigration Visa now and I'll look into ways we can speed up the process." Clay tried and George couldn't find any reason not to.

"You're really adamant about this." He stated instead, voice soft with a breathlessness.

"I want you next to me, George." He replied earnestly and George could feel his resolve crumbling. Then and there, George could find no reason to say no, other than for poor Vincent's sanity.

So he didn't.

"Okay." He decided and Clay stopped walking for a moment, his arms slipping from George's shoulders. Once again, he did the awkward half walk, half jog in order to catch up.

"Really?" He asked and George simply smiled, setting a faster pace to merge with the others again.

"Yeah, why not."

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1.6k words

Imagine you ask your boyfriend to move in with you and he replies 'yeah, why not.'

Feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

Yours, Dandelion