“I think it’s a little silly that we go between places - we should just get a place together.”

“Yeah, I guess?” Wes panted as he leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, his gaze dragging around the mountain trail they were running along. It was getting on in the afternoon now and the light was beginning to change, the sunlight reflecting off the buildings in the distance to give it a bright quality. “I mean, that’d make everything easier, or whatever.” He said with a sigh as he straightened, reaching back to hold a hand to the bottom of his spine, sniffing the air before he looked back to Jackson to see a pleased look on the other man's face. “You places sucks worse than mine, dude, and mine, uh, doesn’t exactly fit one, let alone two.”

“That’s not my place,” Jackson insisted as he handed Wes a water bottle, Wes grunting out a thanks, “That’s just my family’s place. It’s a flophouse for me and others in my family. It was never meant to be long term. I can do better for us.”

Wes grunted again as he sucked down his water, his gaze sliding around the otherwise empty trail before he found Jackson again. “I was thinking about moving closer to home, actually. To Molehill. Since I’m not really attached to here in any meaningful way...figured now might be a good time to, you know.” He clicked his tongue as he replaced the cap on his bottle before he licked his lips. “Start migrating back to the family field, start thinking long term.”

Jackson nodded slowly. “We can do that. I can commute between there and base.”

Wes pursed his lips with a skeptical look. “It’s a four hour drive both ways.” Wes pointed out.

“I can commute,” Jackson said stubbornly.

Wes shrugged. “It’s your life, dude.” He tossed his bottle back to Jackson before he started jogging again, sliding the sunglasses off the top of his head to set it on his nose, Jackson running alongside him. 

Though Wes was talkative, when it came to their jogs, he was mostly silent as it took all his concentration to focus on running. With he was younger and would jog with his brothers, it was always a race - right from the start, they'd always been competing with one another. He had five older brothers, four of which were older than him by at least ten years, so it has always been a struggle to establish himself. 

He wasn't musically gifted as Maurice.

He wasn't as smart as Jameson. 

He sure as hell wasn't as clever as Boyd, or as funny as Farris.

Nor was he as good of a cook as Portland.

And being a key had ended up being more of a hindrance than a benefit for Wes, since that meant his family was suddenly constantly on edge about him getting into trouble. So if he wanted to be superior in any way, it had to be physical. Being the youngest meant his brothers had always had an edge on him, and as their stubbornness and competitiveness matched his, that meant the only way he'd get an edge was having more endurance.

Which did absolute shit here with Jackson.

Because locks were fucking beasts. They were in an entirely different class of their own. 

So it kind of bugged Wes that Jackson was merrily keeping pace with him, acting like he was just happy to be there. It was almost insulting. Wes knew that was being irrational, knew that the childhood he had constantly struggling with his brother made him weirdly jaded. 

But still.

As he always did about this point in their jog, Wes pushed himself to run as fast as he could, sprinting like mad up the path as Jackson stayed close behind him. On one hand, Wes had been pushed to his limit since they started jogging together, and he figured that meant he was getting stronger, faster - on the other hand, however, it kind of pissed him off. He knew

Running made him aggressive.

And fucking horny.

At the top of the mountain, Wes collapsed at the sign that stated the elevation of the mountain. He gasped and lifted his gaze to look over to where Jackson was casually squatting down to hold a water bottle out for him, Wes snatching it to hastily untwist the lid before he sucked down the water within as he glared at Jackson.

Jackson held out a hand then but Wes stubbornly refused it, gritting his teeth as he climbed to his feet to stand on unstable legs, crushing the bottle in his hands as he lifted his chin to look out at the view.

When he caught his breath He straightened.

“So," He asked breathlessly, "When can you stop checking in?”

“After we make the drop. We’d just have to spend a week at the base to prove it and then I wouldn’t have to keep checking in.”

Wes grunted, frowning at that. “Then maybe…” He frowned. “Maybe we can get an apartment together nowhere in the city...and then see how that goes. If it goes well for a while….we can maybe...talk about the drop. If we decide it’s not going to work out, then I’ll move back home, and you can stay here, and we’ll just connect on the weekends or something.”

“And if it does work out?”

“Then we make the drop and move back to Molehill. Together.” Wes said awkwardly. Jackson grinned and Wes gave him an uneasy smile. 

Going back down the mountain was, in a lot of ways, harder than coming up, so this time, as he did last time, Wes sent Jackson down ahead to get the car while he took his sweet time going down the hill. As he watched Jackson race off down the mountainside, Wes caught between being deeply impressed and deeply envious, he fished his phone out to check the time.

The reception up on the mountain was awful, but he had just enough to check his text messages. his grandpa was still pestering him to bring Jackson down to meet the family, but Wes was putting that off until someone twisted his arm. So far, his grandpa hadn't found a strong enough tactic to guilt or threaten him into it, so he was safe, but it was only a matter of time.

He just knew that the second he brought Jackson home, it would be official - that he and Jackson were locked in and his fate would be sealed. He knew in the back of his mind it was going to happen, being bound to Jackson, taking the drop, but still...he still needed to feel that there was a way out, which right now, there still was.

He knew that there had to be some sort of relationship with Jackson, that was a given. His grandpa would never let him live down abandoning Jackson and frankly, Wes didn't think he could do it even if he wanted to. 

Jackson had been really great to him. Wes hated to admit it because he had prepared himself so thoroughly for disappointment, a part of him was kind of pissed he was turning out to be so wrong. Even worse, he was terrified of getting comfortable, of being happy, and Jackson resenting him.

Wes sighed as he reached the dirt clearing where Jackson would pick him up and sat down heavily on the wooden bench nearby. He closed his eyes and leaned his head bad to focus on the feeling of his body - the burning in his muscles, his sweat-slick skin, the feeling of euphoria that came with a runner's high. He inhaled slowly, deeply, and focused then on his connection with Jackson.

It was stronger now, the tether that connected them. It hummed with vibration when he focused on it, feeling where it started at him.

He never traveled it to Jackson - he didn't want to intrude on the other. sure, he'd pluck it, and pull at it to get the other man's attention, but he'd never gone so far as to use it to read the other's thoughts or read his emotions. He just let the connection do its thing, let it tell him those things instead of using it.

It was such a strange sensation, but day by day, he was getting used to it. It no longer felt so foreign to him, didn't feel like something new and strange. 

It reminded him of when he was sixteen and shaved off all his hair. After having had worn his hair long for most of his life, one morning he woke up and just felt the need to shave it all off. It felt weird at first, but slowly he got used to it and after a while, he was no longer overly conscious of the fact that his head was shaved.

That was a lot like this. 

A lot of the times he forgot it was there. He was still getting used to Jackson hearing his thoughts, but he pretty much knew when Jackson was listening - it was a slightly cool feeling, like a painless brain freeze, but even that was becoming less and less noticeable now.

It was strange and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Being together with Jackson was strange and new and kind of great.

And terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

Opening himself up was not something he was used to, but day by day, he was working on it for this strange, new, and kind of great other man.

And fuck if he wasn't pissed about it, because his brothers were never going to let him live this one down.