Work Text:
So after Nog made that crack about Jake's lack of muscles, Jake actually did get up early the next morning to accompany him to his gymnasium training program. That turned out to be a mistake for a bunch of reasons— they'd both stayed up way too late last night celebrating Nog's return to the station, Jake had always firmly self-identified as a lover, not a fighter, etcetera, etcetera— but as soon as the holosuite environment shimmered to life around them, the worst reason of all revealed itself, coming into painfully sharp focus: Nog stripped down to a body-hugging gray singlet with a red stripe down the side, and Jake had to squint and look casually away. Oh, no. Oh, boy.
This was going to be a problem.
He'd noticed Nog in this new way for the first time just the day before. Slim but sturdy in his gray cadet's uniform, Nog had stepped off the transport shuttle onto DS9 with a new confidence, his shoulders back and his chin lifted high. Huh, Jake had thought, already moving in for a hug: Nog's hot now. Weird.
Obviously, Jake was going to keep it to himself. He and Nog had spent years on DS9 with little else to do besides debate over who was better at what skill and who could speak with authority on what topic, battling incessantly over psychological ownership of every aspect of life. It was like being siblings, Jake thought, except, well, with siblings it happened naturally, organically. If there was already a funny one or a musical one or an athletic one in the family, then before you could even talk your personality was automatically trending towards something unique, something that was just yours. Since neither of them had siblings, and they hadn't met until they were eleven, Jake and Nog had been forced to re-do their individual personality inventories from the ground up, litigating their entire history and every part of their surroundings in order to determine who got to claim which area of expertise.
He wasn't sure why it had been so important to draw all those lines, but it had been. At least, arguing over it had filled a lot of long boring hours, back in the day. And long story short, those lines of demarcation had been saved to a permanent file and locked down a long time ago. Nog was better with technology, but Jake could cook; Nog was clever and practical, while Jake had an artist's sensitive soul; Nog would forever be the charming one who knew more about females (Jake's eleven year old self had been pretty gullible on this point) but Jake had fought hard to win the title of the better-looking, naturally handsome one, even if Nog complained that he was really only winning on height, and his species' evolutionary advantage was basically cheating.
The point was: Jake wasn't prepared to cede any of his hard-fought territory, certainly not his claim to be the Handsome One, not even all these years later. No matter how well the red and gray of Nog's uniform set off the platinum-blue of his eyes, or how his prominent cheekbones seemed to have gotten even more perfectly shaped. Besides, it didn't seem like Nog's self-esteem really needed the boost, not any more— which, infuriatingly, made him even more hot.
Jake side-eyed Nog, who was concentrating hard on windmilling his arms. Dropping them to his side, he switched to deep shoulder rolls that showed off his pectorals.
"Come on, you're falling behind," he said, jerking his chin at Jake. Jake sighed. He took a spot next to Nog on the gym mat, so at least he didn't have to look directly at him, and started windmilling his arms.
His heart was already racing a little, and he huffed out a laugh as they moved through the exercises. This was ridiculous, he argued with himself. This was Nog!
Counterpoint, though: when had Nog's arms gotten so cut? Jake had always been weak to strong shoulders and well-defined arms. He was pretty sure his old childhood crush on Major Kira had been entirely spawned from one glance at her one time with her jacket off, way back when they'd all been new to DS9 and the environmental controls kept malfunctioning. And maybe Nog's muscles stood out more because he'd always been skinny, maybe the new breadth of his shoulders was just more dramatic due to his improved posture, but—
"Jumping jacks!" Nog said, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Give me twenty!"
"Hey, Nog? Can I tell you something?" Jake said, following his lead. Trying not to look at the way Nog's chest heaved as he jumped. "This sucks!"
"Don't worry, we're almost done with the warm up," Nog said, barely even panting.
"This is the warm up? This isn't even the workout?"
Nog laughed at him, one short huff of superior laughter. Even that was hot. Annoying and hot. It'll get better, Jake told himself. It's just the novelty, it's just the uniform. Pretty soon it would wear off and everything would be back to normal. Good ol' best friends Jake and Nog. Yeah.
Any minute now.
It didn't get better. It got worse. For one thing, the open-plan layout of Jake and Nog's shared quarters had obviously been designed by some Cardassian who thought privacy was only for deviants and conspirators. Their two 'bedrooms' were just fully open niches, separated by a third slightly larger area with a replicator, a couch and a 'dinner table' smaller than a Replimat single. Anyone coming in the front door was staring right into Jake's sleeping area, and the door to the bathroom was directly across from Nog's bed, so half a dozen times a day both of them were forced to cross by and disrupt the other one's writing or coursework or napping or studying.
And it was one thing to be assigned quarters that had practically been designed to make you invade your roommate's space. It was another thing entirely to live there with someone as touchy-feely as Nog. Not that it was all Nog's fault. The two of them had always used touch as a natural form of communication. They both came from physically affectionate families, and it had always just felt natural to punctuate conversations with a hip-check or shoulder-bump, a slap on the back, an arm squeeze or a soft cuff to the ear. The Ferengi double wrist-grab handshake made it easy to pull someone in for a Human-style back-slapping hug. It was maybe the one thing that had always been easy, that had always made perfect, instinctive sense. Maybe a human and— oh, say a Vulcan— would have been more similar, culturally speaking, but Jake couldn't imagine having a friend that you couldn't touch, to pat his shoulder when he was down, shove or poke when he was being annoying. They'd never held back, not with each other.
And now? Jake was in hell. A hell of his own making, with a generous assist from some Cardassian orbital habitat architect. Even with Nog out working his field-study shifts half the time, it felt to Jake like they were constantly stumbling over each other. Things that would have seemed normal before made his face flush hot, made him stumble over his words— their feet and legs bumping under the tiny dinner table as they played poker or argued through a late dinner. Their shoulders and legs brushing as they played a computerized game on the couch, or watched some Earth movie that Nog had just discovered in the archives. Nog's warm bare shoulder sliding past Jake's arm as he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. The sound of his slightly nasal breathing as he slept, fifteen feet away from Jake, no walls or doors to block the sound. The songs that Nog would sing softly to himself early in the morning, as he got dressed, while Jake did his best to pretend to be asleep. Sometimes they were clearly Starfleet songs, old Earth songs about sailing ships or long-gone voyagers, but sometimes he hummed snatches of strange melodies that weren't like anything Jake had ever heard, music that caught at his heart and tugged. Was that Ferengi music? He didn't know how to ask about it. He didn't know how to say anything. What if he ruined everything?
Because it wasn't worth the risk if it was just attraction, right? And it was definitely just attraction, it wasn't an actual crush. Jake laid in his bed, hands tucked behind his head, and stared at the shadows thrown across his ceiling, telling himself that over and over. Acknowledging that his best friend had gotten kinda handsome was one thing. They hadn't seen each other for so long, and Nog had changed a lot. Thrown into close proximity, it was totally reasonable. But actually having feelings for Nog— no. It just didn't make sense. Nog's field study was only going to last for a few more months, and he'd never expressed any kind of attraction to males of any species, so— no, it wasn't a crush. It would be like if his dad and Dax started dating, or something. They were friends! It would just be too weird. So Jake would get over it, and they'd adjust to being roommates, and everything would be normal again. He figured that was a good resolution to start the day on. Yawning and stretching, Jake stuck one bare foot out into the cooler air, just to test whether he really felt like getting up and out from under the covers.
"Unbelievable!" Nog said, and Jake startled slightly as their door slid open. "You're such a lazy slug!" He stepped into the room, aiming a smack at Jake's bare foot.
Jake hastily retracted his legs and curled up in a ball under his blanket, closing his eyes again. If he put his head under the pillow and went back to sleep for a bit, he wouldn't have to get up until after Nog went to bed. He could avoid this whole conversation. He could avoid all of it.
"Seriously, Jake, are you just getting up now?"
"Leave me alone. We're in space, day and night are social constructs," Jake grumbled. Even with his eyes closed he could tell that Nog was still standing there, hands on his hips. "Why should I get up when you do? I don't have to do shift work. I have no schedule. And besides, the Bajoran day is two hours longer—"
"Oh, enough!" Nog said, walking away. He didn't sound like he was teasing. He sounded like a commanding officer faced with a disappointing ensign. "Every other hu-mon on this station has managed to adjust to the Bajoran day. Do you know how? I'll tell you: a set bedtime, some modicum of physical activity during the day, and at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep—"
"Thanks for the prescription, Doc! When did you become an expert on human physiology?"
"Hey, I've been at Starfleet Academy for a year," Nog said from the other side of Jake's bedroom wall, the replicator beeping as he tapped in his dinner order. "I'll bet I know one or two things about hu-mon physiology that you don't know."
Jake sat up straight in bed, a sinking feeling crashing over him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind," Nog said hastily. "None of your business." Jake stared at his bedroom wall, trying to parse Nog's suddenly wary tone. Hadn't they gotten beyond this point a long time ago, cautious and guarded, afraid of being misunderstood? They could talk about anything— couldn't they?
Apparently not.
Jake laid back down, pulling the covers back around his body. His feet were cold. He stayed awake for a long while, listening to Nog's usual bedroom routine. Thumping and groaning as he did a few night-time stretches. The buzz of his tooth-sharpener, humming at a new pitch against each individual tooth. The laundry sonic, humming as Nog processed his uniform through it. Soft thumps as he lined up his boots precisely against the wall, and finally, his nightly order from the replicator of a pair of earplugs, rated level four. Familiar, homey sounds, already. Jake swallowed hard. Maybe he was in deeper than he'd thought.
All too soon Nog was in bed, breathing softly, and their room was dark, lit only by starlight from the window. There was nothing to distract Jake from thinking about Nog at Starfleet Academy, learning human physiology. Did that mean he'd been going on dates? He hadn't mentioned anything of the sort to Jake in his rare letters, and Jake had always assumed that meant there was nothing to mention… but maybe it didn't mean that at all. Maybe Nog had dated all kinds of girls. He'd spent a lot of time in New Orleans, too, at Grandpa's restaurant. Probably met a lot of human tourists. People who'd never left Earth and would just see a Ferengi as one more charming, interesting alien with a quick wit, a big heart and a scratchy, sweet laugh, no stereotypes or judgements attached. Jake couldn't help picturing some beautiful girl. Petite, so she could look up at Nog from under her eyelashes. Bare shoulders in a yellow sundress, her dark hand on Nog's ruddy one. Running her hand over his hand, fingers brushing, flirtily asking Nog if his fingernail color was natural…
Ugh! Jake rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. It was awful to think about, but maybe it was even worse than that. Maybe there was someone special, someone serious! If Nog hadn't told him anything, then it was reasonable to assume the worst. But surely Nog was smart enough not to get into a serious relationship as a first-year at the Academy. That was a rookie mistake, wasn't it? Surely Nog knew that was a rookie mistake!
Jake tried to put it out of his mind, he really did. He really tried to get to work, to accomplish something with his days. But it seemed like everything he was trying to write kept stalling out and hit a dead end, so he switched to research instead, spending most of the day reading about the minutiae of life in a modern public relations agency on Earth. It might or might not come in handy as background for one of the minor characters in 'Past Prologue,' but it was all grist for the mill anyway, right? It couldn't be a waste of time to learn things that you might need for something at some point… right?
Lying on his stomach on his bed, facing the wall, Jake was so engrossed in his note-taking that he barely twitched to greet Nog as the door slid open behind his back. After a minute or two, he blinked out of his state of concentration, realizing he'd just heard Nog flop directly onto his bed, bypassing all the steps of his usual bedtime routine: no exercising, no tooth sharpening. He hadn't even ordered dinner. Just a flop and then silence.
"Nog? You all right?" Jake asked. He slid off his bed and wandered over when he got no response.
Nog hadn't even taken his boots off. He was lying face down, half-off the bed, the wrists and ankles of his uniform striped with smudges of soot and grease. He hadn't even managed to get his head on the pillow. He flapped a hand weakly at Jake. "I just stripped, re-installed, reset and updated the programming on every magnetic seal in every decompression door and airlock from levels twenty-six through thirty. Let me die."
Jake snorted, grabbing for Nog's left boot. He had one hand on Nog's ankle and the other on his calf, bracing so he could tug Nog's boot off before he realized what he was doing. The boot came loose, revealing one sweaty gray sock, and Jake stumbled back. Nog grunted and twisted, flipping over to catch his eye curiously.
"You are one of the world's wonders," Nog announced, and Jake had never been so glad that his face didn't show a blush.
"Thanks. You can get the other one," Jake said, dropping Nog's boot on the floor and starting to back out of Nog's space.
"Ugh," Nog tried to sit up, but just collapsed back down again, groaning. "Jake! Be a pal." He extended his other foot towards Jake and wiggled it hopefully.
"What's that Ferengi saying? Only the first one is free?"
"What's that hu-mon saying? Oh yeah, I remember," Nog said, raising a hand to flip Jake off.
"All right, all right. You want me to replicate you some earplugs too?" Jake teased, grabbing for Nog's other boot. It was safe now that they were making fun of each other. Just like normal. "Sharpen your teeth? Tuck you in? Bedtime story?"
"I'll take the earplugs, thank you. Rating three, I think. I want to be able to hear the evacuation alert."
"Why's there going to be an evacuation alert?" Jake said, dropping Nog's other boot on the floor.
"You didn't see the state of those seals," Nog said grimly, and Jake laughed. "It's not funny! Maintenance on this station is years behind what it should be... Chief O'Brien kept telling me to cut it out and go home, but… Honestly, I should've..."
He drifted off, still muttering about maintenance, and was fully asleep by the time Jake came back with the earplugs in their little case. Rating four, obviously.
He set the earplugs carefully on Nog's bed, next to his hand, and stood there for a moment until it consciously dawned on him that he was watching his roommate sleep. That was just a little too weird, even if the two of you were living in a Cardassian privacy nightmare. Even if the soft shadows falling over Nog's face made him look— Well, that didn't matter, anyway.
The next day they were both grumpy and snappish. Honestly, ever since they'd moved in together, it felt like Jake couldn't do anything right. Nog was annoyed with him all the time, and the worst part was they couldn't even hash it out and get it over with, because really, it was all Jake's fault. He knew he was being a jerk and not pulling his weight with their chores. He knew that he tended to withdraw when he didn't want to face up to something. That was why he and Nog got along so well, and always had. Even when Jake dug in his heels, Nog was usually pushy enough to get them both where they needed to be. The problem was— well, the problem was that Nog was Jake's problem, this time, and there was no way Jake could say so. And so Jake overreacted to everything, and Nog pushed back, and finally Jake couldn't take it any more and went out to the Replimat for lunch.
When he got back, Nog was on the couch across from the replicator, still studying, although the padd he was reading didn't look like… "Hey, I told you, don't read my stories!" Jake said, snatching the padd out of his hands.
"Why not?" Nog attempted to grab for it again. "Isn't that the whole point, for people to read them?"
"When they're finished!" Jake said, holding the padd behind his back with one hand and trying to push Nog away with the other. "When I'm ready." It really shouldn't have been such a big deal. It never had been before. He'd shown Nog even his earliest drafts of poetry and never thought anything of it. But these days, with their enforced closeness as roommates, revealing even the slightest smidgen of his inner thoughts to Nog felt too much like stripping naked and parading down the Promenade.
"I understand it's a work in progress, I promise I'll be gentle," Nog said, sounding extremely reasonable as he tried to reach around Jake and snatch the padd out of his hands. Jake felt his face heat up, and he put one hand on Nog's chest and tried to push him back, out of arms' reach. Nog planted his feet, letting his lower center of gravity do most of the work, and became an immovable object. "I'm trying to help, you know."
"I don't need your help to fix my typos," Jake snapped, finally breaking and stepping back out of arms' reach. "That's what final drafts are for, and this isn't the final draft, okay?"
"I also have some thoughts about Tani's characterization," Nog called after him as Jake retreated to his own space.
Jake stopped at the end of his bed and turned around. "Excuse me?"
"I just think, psychologically speaking… well, the mystery plot depends on Tani believing that his ex-lover committed a murder, right?" Nog said quickly. "I just think that particular aspect of his character would be a lot more believable if—"
"No, no! No way," Jake said, gritting his teeth. "I can't believe you!"
"What!" Nog demanded. "I can't make observations? I don't know anything about hu-mon nature?"
"Yeah, sorry if I'm not gonna take literary criticism from a guy whose favorite fictional character is the Pleasure Goddess of Rixx!" And he wasn't about to sit down with Nog and have an in-depth discussion about the hopeless devotion of a lover who knew he'd never gain his heart's desire, either.
"Fuck you very much," Nog said, "my favorite fictional character is Mary Crawford from Mansfield Park!"
Jake laughed, reflexively, but Nog just glared from under his heavy brows, apparently totally serious. Jake honestly didn't know which part was more shocking: Nog's easy, natural use of Human profanity or the fact that he'd actually read a Jane Austen novel. "You've really gone full Starfleet, haven't you?"
"Wow. What in debtors' hell is that supposed to mean?" Nog said, bristling. Jake was struck silent. He honestly hadn't meant anything by it— or at least, he'd mostly meant it as a compliment— but he could see how that was maybe the problem— "Never mind, I've got to go study," Nog said before he could find his words. "If I can find someplace clean and quiet!"
He pushed roughly past Jake on his way out the door. It slid closed behind him.
"Shit!" Jake said, then bit his tongue. Nog's hearing was good enough that Jake couldn't even talk to himself when he was alone in a room. What am I gonna do, he thought but didn't say. What was he going to do? He couldn't tell Nog how he felt, but not telling him wasn't really working either. It looked like he was going to ruin their friendship either way; but then, it also looked like Nog was about this close to finding someplace else to live. It was the coward's way out, but Jake had never been a fighter. Maybe they just needed some distance. Maybe if they didn't live together, they could be friends again.
Maybe that could be enough.
Jake moved to collapse onto his bed, the better to mope and pine from a horizontal position, but it was covered in laundry and game padds and maybe even a plate or two under all the mess. Ugh. He glanced over his shoulder at the couch in the main area, which was unfortunately in the same state.
He found himself drifting towards Nog's side of the room, eyeing his perfectly clean bed with its crisp, taut sheets. All he'd have to do would be to wake up, run the sheets through the sonic and re-make the bed before Nog got back, which probably wouldn't be until ten or fifteen minutes before Nog's self-imposed bedtime. He'd just set an alarm for the computer to wake him up ten minutes before that, and it would be the perfect crime. And Jake really was exhausted; or at least, he didn't want to be awake any more, which was pretty much the same thing. He had one knee on the bed already… He curled into a comma on top of the covers, settling his head on Nog's pillow, clean but still bearing the unmistakable, not-unpleasant smell of Nog's body. Pickle-tangy high notes and a kind of truffle-dust oily musk. Food metaphors could be problematic when describing sentient beings. Well, Jake thought as he drifted off to sleep, it wasn't as if he were writing any of this down.
When Jake's dad showed up in his achingly half-empty quarters to confront him about driving Nog out of their shared rooms, Jake was waiting for it. He knew it wouldn't look great, the captain's son having to move into single quarters after barely even a week, just because he couldn't manage to pick up his dirty shirts or put his dishes back in the replicator... but at least this way nobody would blame Nog, and that was pretty much all Jake could hope for. Unfortunately, it dawned on him with a creeping horror, his dad wasn't going to let them get out of it that easily.
"Now, I know the two of you are very different people," Jake's dad said, Nog hovering reluctantly at his elbow, "but you're still friends, and somehow, some way, you'll make this work."
"I don't know," Jake mumbled.
"Neither do I," Nog said, looking away.
"Well, I do. And I'm your Captain— and your father. And what I say goes. Good day, gentlemen."
Well, great.
"The place hasn't changed much, has it?" Nog said, glancing around.
He was wrong about that; it was probably even worse than it had been when he'd left. Jake sighed and looked around. Nog was right, it really was that bad... He couldn't get too down, though, and his mouth twitched into a smile as they bantered back and forth. Maybe he was doomed, maybe he was going to inevitably ruin their friendship with his stupid feelings, but, well… Nog was back! Nog was back, and smiling at him, causing a strange exhilaration to sweep over Jake's whole body. He felt energized, renewed, like he could punch a moon out of orbit. And Nog seemed as eager to patch things up as Jake was. Like he'd never wanted to fight in the first place, either.
It was scarily easy, the way their connection clicked back into place. Laughing over nothing as they looked at each other, both silently acknowledging how ridiculous it was that they might have ruined their friendship over something as silly as a messy room.
"You want to go to the gym?" Jake suggested without thinking, wanting only to say something that would meet Nog halfway. "Healthy body, healthy mind."
"I have a better idea," Nog said. "How about a game of dom-jot? I'll let you break."
"You're on," Jake said, relieved, and he wasn't sure who reached out first, but they gripped each others' arms tightly, both still chuckling softly. "Although, we probably should clean up just a little around here, first," he admitted. Nog huffed in agreement, letting go of his arm. "I mean, if we're going to go out, we won't want to do it when we get back, and then you have to get up early, so..."
"Chief O'Brien gave me tomorrow morning off, actually," Nog said, a bit disgruntled. "He said I overdid it with the magnetic seal maintenance. I guess if I work too many hours in a week it messes up his shift assignments."
"Uh, Chief O'Brien criticized you for working too many hours?" Jake said, going into his room and starting to pick up socks, depositing them into a pile on his bed.
"That's what I said!" Nog said indignantly, starting to pick up dishes in the main room. "…He said it's different when you're the Chief."
"Rank has its privileges, I guess," Jake said, and got down on his hands and knees to check under the bed for laundry. Oh, that's where his green sweater with the brown stripe had gotten to. Huh.
He got all his laundry piled up on his bed, then turned to see Nog, hovering by the edge of the wall.
"Listen, Jake. I do want to apologize," Nog said, and ducked past Jake to grab a few empty glasses from his nightstand. He stopped on his way out, rubbing his thumb over the slick surface of the glass. "I know ever since I got back I've been... a bit over the top. At the Academy, it was... Well, you were right. I did want to prove that I could be one hundred percent Starfleet, and I see now that I took it too far."
"Just a bit, maybe," Jake said, bumping his shoulder affectionately, and Nog stepped aside to let him carry his armful of laundry over to the laundry sonic cabinet in the wall. "I think you went past a hundred percent a couple of light-years ago, actually," he added, glancing over his shoulder, and they both laughed.
"You get it though, right?" Nog said, carefully stacking dishes into the replicator, not looking at Jake. "I'm not some captain's son, I can't— Not that you would— I know if you'd wanted to go to the Academy, you wouldn't just be coasting along, thinking, 'I've got nothing to prove, I'll just be good enough to get by.' You'd want to live up to your father's expectations. Surpass them, even."
"Sure," Jake said, feeding a couple of sweaters into the laundry sonic and leaning on the door to make it shut.
"Well, so do I. Your father took a chance on me, and I know my performance will reflect on him."
"Nog," Jake said, "from everything I've heard, you're doing great. Everybody says so. And trust me, I know my dad, okay? As long as you're honestly doing your best, you're not going to let him down. You don't need to..." He shrugged, gesturing vaguely. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the sudden closeness they'd just regained.
"I don't need to what? Come on, writer, use your words," Nog teased, and Jake smiled to himself.
The laundry sonic blinked to show the end of the cycle. He ignored it for a moment, pressing his lips together, then turned around to face Nog. "You don't need to be perfect," he said, and he meant it more than almost anything. "You just need to be Nog."
Nog stared at him, eyes wide and expression solemn. "Thank you. Anyway, I was saying. I'm sorry for being such a jerk."
"Well, you're welcome, and apology accepted," Jake said. He turned around and pulled his sweaters out of the laundry sonic, dropping them on the couch against the far wall and kneeling down to make it easier to fold. Picking one up, he tucked its sleeves in and folded it neatly into a square.
The silence in their quarters drew out between them for a long moment.
"Jake," Nog said leadingly, his hands drifting to his hips. "is there something you want to say to me?"
"Right," Jake said, and put down the sweater. "Right, um. Yeah."
"No, no, take your time!" Nog turned towards their dinner table and started stacking dishes.
"Okay, come on, let's not start again. Look," Jake said, and stood up. He took the dishes out of Nog's hands and put them in the replicator, glad for once that their height difference meant he could avoid Nog's eyes, here in this cramped room. "I, too, take responsibility for, uh. All this," he said, and stepped back again. "I just... Maybe I don't deal with change all that well."
Nog was watching him closely, with an appraising eye, and Jake crossed his arms defensively over his chest.
"That's it?"
"And I'm sorry," Jake said firmly. "And I apologize."
"For not dealing with change well," Nog said skeptically.
"Yes, and for being a slob, and stealing your clean socks that one time—"
"I knew it!" Nog hissed.
"And for not being a good friend, in general," Jake said. "Okay?" That should cover it, right?
But Nog was still staring at him, narrow eyes bright in the shadowed hollows of his face.
"Okay," Nog said slowly. "Got it."
"Good," Jake said, and beamed. Maybe that was a little too much, because Nog's eyes narrowed even further.
"Why do I feel like I've just been sold a load of expired yamok sauce? What is the real problem here, Jake?"
"It's nothing!" Jake said, backing away. "I mean, that's it, I told you!"
"Jake, we can't keep doing this. Just say it," Nog said, "just get it out!"
He clearly thought he knew what the real problem was, but he couldn't know Jake's feelings— could he?
"Just… I don't know. Tell me what you want me to say."
"I told you the truth, now you tell me the truth," Nog said. "Don't try to pass counterfeit on me."
"It's really stupid," Jake said.
"Do you think I don't know how stupid you are?" Nog said, but he was smiling, and his voice was oddly gentle. "We both know I'm the smart one."
"I don't think we do know that," Jake argued weakly. Oh, hell. Maybe it would be okay. His heart flipped in his chest. Even if Nog was weirded out, even if he wanted separate quarters— he was still probably right. They couldn't move forward if Jake didn't tell the truth.
"If it helps, I'm pretty sure I already know what it is," Nog said, and Jake's heart pounded even harder.
"You do?"
"Yeah," Nog said, "I just want to hear you say it, okay?"
"Okay," Jake said. He took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands down the sides of his vest. "Fine. Okay. So… I have a crush on you."
Nog's eyes went very, very wide.
"Oh, fuck, you were bluffing!" Jake realized, a ringing noise in his ears. "Oh my god, you jackass—! I can't believe I fell for that! You're the fucking worst!" He grabbed his folded sweater and flung it in Nog's face, turning towards the door.
"You have a crush on— Jake, wait!" Nog said, but Jake was already at the open door, and Nog grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back.
"Cut it out!"
"Wait just one second!" Nog said. He stared at Jake piercingly, then gave him a hard shove with both hands; it didn't hurt, but it did make Jake stumble back a bit, ending up leaning back against the wall. "You think you can say something like that and just leave?"
"No, you're right, let's go through the whole thing, I don't think I'm totally and completely humiliated yet!" Jake said, giving Nog's shoulder a shove, but Nog planted his feet and once again refused to be moved. "Maybe I should write it all down in a letter for you, like Mr. Darcy, would you like that?"
"Hey, maybe I would! Maybe you should!" Nog said furiously, and Jake squinted, because— what? And— oh. Oh! Nog was leaning up, one arm flung around Jake's neck to drag him down— and Nog was kissing him, hard and hot and wet, right on the mouth.
So, it turned out that there was actually one more really good reason to clear all the dishes and games and vests off your bed.
"Some modicum of physical activity, huh?" Jake panted as Nog wrestled him over onto his back and crawled on top of him. Nog snorted, unzipping the high collar of his uniform and letting the two sides fall open, revealing a swath of smooth tan skin.
"Shut up," he said, shaking as Jake spread his hands against his ribcage. Jake wasn't a hundred percent sure which side Nog's heart was on, but he could feel something in there thrumming like a warp core pushed to its limits. "You're not funny, you know! You've never been funny. Remember, I'm the charming one."
"Sure, sure," Jake said. Nog leaned down, burying his face against Jake's neck, trailing a curious tongue over his jugular. He shuddered, feeling the brush of sharp teeth, and it made him brave and reckless. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you," he whispered, and Nog actually gasped against his neck and sat up, a heavy, dense weight on Jake's thighs.
"If you think I like you for your sweet talking you're completely wrong," he gritted out. "This is purely physical attraction, I'll have you know."
"You're a better cadet than you are a salesman," Jake said. "No, go on, but I'll tell you now, I'm not buying it." He laughed so hard, suddenly, that he almost shook Nog off the narrow bed.
"What in the world is so funny—"
"No, come on, we're both such idiots! I've been sleeping twenty-six hours a day, and you've been working yourself to death—"
Nog clearly tried to fight his smile, but ended up grinning too. "There is nothing like active, indispensable employment for dispelling melancholy," he said, and leaned down to kiss Jake again, greedy and consuming.
Jake blinked dreamily as he pulled back. "Is that Austen too?"
"If Jane Austen had written her own Rules of Acquisition," Nog murmured, nuzzling at Jake's ear, "that would be one."
Jake's whole body was hot and sensitive, starting from his earlobe. He felt like a flower bending towards sunshine. Like Icarus flying too close to the sun. Wanting to share the joke— wanting to share every joke, he couldn't help but ask: "What would be some of the others?"
"I'll tell you later!" Nog said eagerly, like he'd just been waiting for someone to share the joke with. Well, who else? "There are some good ones! But— later, okay?"
"Later," Jake agreed. There would be more time. Days and nights. Twenty-six hours a day.
They had time.