Title: Crash

Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane

Fandom: Dead Man on Campus

Paring: Josh/Cooper

Rating: R for language and sexual themes

Status: complete

Archive: yes to list archives

Series/Sequel: Sequel to Spiral, and yes, there will be at least one more after this one.

Crash
by Caroline Crane

This is his fault - all his fault because if he wasn't such a coward he would have just told Cooper what he wanted in the first place. Then they wouldn't have been at the club, wouldn't have been around for Cooper to get his hands on whatever he took. He tried to listen to what the doctor said; something about street drugs, probably Ecstasy or bad acid. He almost laughed at that, because was there such a thing as good acid?

And since when did Cooper do drugs anyway? Pot, okay.that was one thing, getting stoned with the guys on the weekend just to unwind. He drinks a lot when they go out; they both do but it always ends the same way and he isn't sure either of them would have the courage to go through with it sober. Which is just wrong because Cooper's his best friend, and they should be able to talk about whatever's going on between them even if it means that 'whatever' finally comes to an end.

Only he isn't so sure that they can go back to 'just friends', at least he isn't sure if he can. Cooper seems to make the transition flawlessly, going from Josh's bed back to his normal routine without so much as blinking. The first time they woke up together Josh was mortified - there he was, half of his very naked body draped over Cooper, muscles stiff and head foggy from too much beer. Then there was the burning whenever he shifted and it still makes him blush to think about how exactly *that* had happened. Not that he hasn't asked Cooper to fuck him every single time since that first night, but it always seems so much easier to say the words when he's drunk. Out loud, as in 'CooperIneedyoupleaseneedyouinme', all in a jumbled rush of breath and Cooper always, *always* makes him say the rest.

As though that's not enough, and a slightly hysterical laugh escapes his throat as he looks down at the face of his roommate and watches Cooper's lips move in his sleep. And he's pretty sure Cooper gets off on hearing Josh say the exact words he said that first time, because if nothing else his roommate is a sentimental guy under that act he puts on. Josh knows it, knows just as well that he's the only person that gets to see it and it makes him love Cooper just a little more. So he says it, every single time. Out. Loud. And he knows he'd never be able to say it to anyone else ever, maybe not for the rest of his life. Hell, he can't even admit out loud that he's gay, and that's just looking in the mirror.

He knows there's something wrong with him - not the gay thing, because he's seen enough movies and read enough books and this is the 21st century and he may have grown up in the sticks but it wasn't the Bible Belt. No, the thing inside him that's broken has something to do with the connection between his brain and his heart, because he *knows*.knows what he wants and what.who he is, and he still can't fucking Say It. Part of him wants to believe all that crap they feed you in Liberal Arts classes about labels being unimportant and limiting and in a way he knows it's true, that whether or not he ever says 'I'm gay' out loud to anyone it doesn't change how he feels about Cooper. But if he can't even say that simple - and pretty much obvious at this point - fact out loud, then how is he ever gonna say 'I love you' or 'I need more than just half-drunk sex every weekend'?

And if Cooper weren't so goddamn beautiful it wouldn't be a problem, but when he's sleeping he looks so harmless. Josh still has the pain in his back from not-sleeping in a hard waiting room chair after they kicked him out of Cooper's room, and every twinge of discomfort in his spine reminds him of how much trouble Cooper really can be. He likes it, though; wants to feel the pain because it reminds him too that if he'd just been man enough to finally come clean the way he wanted to that Cooper would be waking up with him instead of waking up in a hospital room surrounded by strangers.

Well, maybe. And that's the thing, isn't it, because if he'd told Cooper the truth last night maybe they'd both be waking up alone in different rooms after Cooper spent the night with God-knows-who. Josh tries not to think too much about *that* faceless person, the unfortunately named God-knows-who that always welcomes Cooper with open and most likely female arms after Josh finally, finally confesses the awful truth that drives his roommate away once and for all. Because Cooper's not into commitment. Josh never would have guessed he'd be into sex with guys, either, but that's not nearly as hard to swallow as the idea that Cooper might just love him back.

In a way he knows that Cooper does love him, which makes it even harder because it's okay as long as neither of them says it but as soon as it's out there Josh doesn't know what will happen. And isn't that just the way life is, a long, painful series of risks that can change the course of your life on a dime? They were supposed to prepare you for this stuff in high school, but the sex ed classes didn't cover naked, sweaty boys doing things nobody likes to talk about with other naked, sweaty boys, and there was no booth on Career Day to tell him how to deal with falling for his best friend.

His best friend who's still breathing in and out, thank God, but what if he'd died on that dance floor last night and Josh had never said a word about how he felt? He's never actually wanted to die but he knew the one thing that could get him pretty close was losing Cooper, which brings him right back to all the reasons he's never said anything. Valid reasons - good, solid, rock-steady reasons not to jeopardize their weird, weird relationship even though he knows it's never going to be enough. Because he couldn't get enough of Cooper, even if they spent every night in each other's arms like some sappy Hallmark commercial of the Perfect Gay Couple.

And there's that word again, the one he just can't seem to make himself say. The one that's a joke to most of his friends, even though they know there's something going on behind closed doors that nobody ever brings up anymore. It's not like Cooper's any good at hiding this stuff, either that or he doesn't even try which is more likely because Cooper doesn't care. He doesn't care who knows or what they think they know, as long as he's having a good time that's all that matters to Cooper. Josh is just along for the ride, so to speak, and that makes him blush too because even when he's fast asleep and wearing one of those ridiculous hospital gowns he can't help thinking that they could have had a lot more fun tonight if Cooper had just stuck to beer.

Maybe he would have waited until after to tell Cooper, but he was going to tell him last night. He was - that's the bitch of the situation because he'd spent 45 minutes in the bathroom arguing with his own reflection about the best way to just spit it out already. It couldn't be that hard, people did it all the time and it had been the easiest thing in the world when he was with Rachel to just say it back to her. He didn't mean it, never meant it before in his life until now but he'd said it before so he could do it again. Even if it cost him amazing sex with his best friend he knew he *had* to say it, like a moral imperative or an edict handed down by God himself. Not that he actually believed that God took a lot of interest in his life, because if He did Josh wouldn't be in this situation right now. He wouldn't have spent months lying to Rachel and then come up with the World's Lamest Excuse for dumping her.

Seriously, if they still had World's Fairs he could set up his own booth just so people could come from hundreds and hundreds of miles away to hear the Lamest Breakup in History. He wouldn't even charge admission, because it had to be some sort of service to Mankind to let the world see how truly pathetic he was. Maybe Rachel would even put in an appearance as the scorned girlfriend so she could tell the world that she'd known the whole time exactly what he was and how he wasn't even fooling anybody so why did he take himself so seriously in the first place?

"Tell the people how you knew, Rachel."

"Well, Josh, you never could shut up about him, he's all you ever talked about. Plus you touch him more than you ever touched me - you sure hug a lot for two guys that are supposed to be straight. And then there was the time you called me 'Cooper' during sex."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict is in. Josh Miller, we pronounce you gay and sentence you to life without possibility of parole."

He spends a lot of time wondering if he'd just feel better if he forced himself to say it, closed his eyes and stood up and announced to anyone or no one that he was gay. It doesn't matter if he does it in a crowd or all alone in their dorm room, once he says it out loud the first time it has to
get easier, right? And it isn't like he's so worried about what his mom would say, as long as he keeps his grades up he's pretty sure she wouldn't mind. Much. Obviously it isn't going to change Cooper's opinion of him, because he seems to like that about Josh already. But maybe he likes the fact that they don't say it, because if it isn't out there he probably doesn't have to spend a lot of time thinking about what they're doing. As far as he knows he's the only person Cooper's slept with more than once since he got to college, and he doesn't know whether or not that's just because Josh is convenient. Kinda like going to Burger King even though you'd rather have a Big Mac just because McDonald's is on the wrong side of the street and you don't feel like making a U-turn.

And when did his sex life come down to a fast food euphemism, anyway?

The hand he's still holding twitches and he looks away from Cooper's face long enough to check that he's not squeezing too hard and hurting anything they both might need later. If there is a later, because he's not sure after last night if he can just go back to the way things were. And he wants to - God, he wants Cooper to open those eyes and grin up at him and take him home so they can spend the day making up for getting cheated out of last night. That's not the way it'll happen, though, because when Cooper does finally wake up again he's just going to say he's sorry, as though that can just make up for the fact that he's so freaked out by what's happening between them that he has to put chemicals in his body just to get through the night. As though he even knows the meaning of the fucking word - Cooper says "I'm sorry" more often than anyone he knows, and Josh can't think of one time he actually meant it.

He doesn't want to be mad, he doesn't even want to think about the drugs or the pounding in his chest when he looked back and Cooper wasn't behind him in the crowd. He doesn't want to think about the thoughts that went through his head when the crowd behind him parted like some weird performance art version of that story about Moses and he saw Cooper, stretched out on the floor with his eyes wide open and unfocused. And it made him think of this weird movie he saw once that was all in French, he can't even remember the name of it now but it was something about Jesus and that's exactly what Cooper looked like all stretched out on the wooden floor with his arms out at his sides.

It makes his chest hurt to think about Cooper lying there, he doesn't know how long it took him to get his legs to start moving back through the crowd in the direction of the only person he couldn't even begin to live without but however long it was felt way too long. They wouldn't let him ride in the ambulance because he couldn't make them understand that he's the closest thing Cooper has to family, because his parents don't care as long as he's not embarrassing them and Josh is the one that loves him. Josh is the one - he takes care of Cooper in ways his roommate doesn't even know, and he knows he never will but he tries so hard to make up for the fact that Cooper's parents don't give a damn what he does.

Like saying the words that Cooper wants to hear every time they fall into bed together - every time he says them his whole body blushes and he has a feeling Cooper kind of gets off on that part too but he does it anyway. It makes him blush even to think it, because who says that anymore and he has no idea where the words came from the first time he said them. He has no
idea how they ended up in bed in the first place, but he has a sinking feeling that he's the one that started it. All he remembers is the giddy high that comes along with too many pitchers of Pickle's margaritas, getting up when Cooper did to follow his roommate back to their half of the room and closing the door to muffle the party sounds still filtering from the other half of the suite. He remembers stumbling and Cooper catching him, and how warm and soft his roommate feels whenever they touch. He remembers someone turning their head, then lips were pressed together and the rest dissolves into an almost panicked rush to see who could get their clothes off first.

The first time was probably too fast, spurred on by alcohol still rushing through veins and maybe more painful the next day than it needed to be but at the time he hadn't felt any pain at all. And Cooper had to know already how he felt, because even that night with all their friends just on the other side of the door he'd looked straight in his best friend's eyes and said the words. 'Make love to me, Coop,' like that wasn't the cheesiest line in the history of pillow talk but he's said it so many times since then that he can't even remember what made him say it in the first place. Wasn't he asking Cooper to feel something for him, even though he hadn't actually said 'I love you'? Even then, even before he really knew how he felt about his roommate he'd asked Cooper to love him, and that was exactly how it felt every time they fell into bed together.

He pulls his hand out of Cooper's like the touch is burning him, leaning back in yet another uncomfortable plastic chair as he watches his best friend's eyes blink open again. For a minute they just look at each other, and all Josh can think is *tell him*. Just tell him the words, just close your eyes and say them and then this will all be over with. You won't even hear the sound of him laughing when you walk out of the room, you're already bright red just from thinking about the way it feels when he touches you so you might as well just say it. Hard swallow, flex and unflex of fingers and lean forward, like he's warming up for the newest Olympic sport: True Confessions. Mouth open, tongue darts out to moisten dry lips and his heart skips a beat when Cooper's eyes dilate a little. He has to swallow again just to get his mind to stop wandering down that path most guys his age are almost always on, and he opens his mouth again to finally, finally after all this time say how he feels.

"I think I should move out."

Another long, long, too long pause and then the answer in a hoarse voice that sounds like he's been deprived of air for way too long: "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."