Fic Drive: Stay Away

[aisalynn]

Title: Stay Away
Author: Aisalynn
Fandom: Jumper
Characters: David/Griffin
Rating: R

He didn’t know what it was about him. He was gruff, distant, careless, and prone to giving random words of warning with no explanation. He was bitter and hard and there was something jagged about him, like a rock broken forcibly from a cliff and then washed up from the sea before it had the time to rub smooth. Sometimes there was something he said or did, a look in his eye or a few, softly spoken words that were given with no emotion, no expression, that made him seem unbalanced, dangerous.

 

David had gotten a little tired of it, of all the times Griffin had almost killed himself, all the fast driving where he just barely missed a tree or a truck or building or a lake, all the time he’d jump right into a group of Paladins and then fight his way out, laughing, like it was a game.

He’d jumped into the lair to see him on the floor, first aide kit out and him busy cleaning up another wound, busy creating another scar.

“Don’t you care?” David demanded. “Don’t you care if you even die?”

“No,” he’d said, still wrapping the bandages around his arm.

He didn’t even look up.

 

He was a murderer.

He reveled in it, in fact. He kept the number of Paladins he killed on a tally on the wall, and gave a happy shout anytime he scratched out a diagonal line that finished off the tally with a nice, even number. He was obsessed with it, killing them. Stayed up all night planning and figuring out how to trap them, all day laying out those traps and hunting them down. He looked mad, bent over the table, dim light from the generator spilling over his small, tense body, hair messed up and crazy from frantically running his hands through it, two day old growth on his jaw.

David couldn’t stay away.

 

The floor was cold against the palm of his hands, the hands that were placed on either side of Griffin, balancing and hold him as he moved, rocking their hips together. His head was bent low, face buried in the sweat soaked hair on Griffin’s head. He could hear every breath, every gasp that he made. The sound was addicting.

Griffin raised his hands, ran them along David’s chest and stomach, circling a fingertip around a nipple before trailing it down past his hips. David growled slightly, grabbed his hands and slammed them to the ground above his head, hard. He bit at the exposed skin on his neck and Griffin moaned. “I love it when you break my skin,” he whispered and David shivered.

 

He was drawn to it, to the darkness and passion and intensity that surrounded Griffin. Being around him was like a drug. His blood raced and pumped adrenalin through his veins, mind spun as he tried to keep up with his frantic pace. His breath quickened and caught at times, when he would glance over and give him that look and he just couldn’t stay away.

It didn’t matter that he lived out in the middle of a desert, didn’t matter that the only time he could sit still was when he was planning to kill Paladins or playing video games. David was even getting used to the crazy driving, trusting him to, if not save his own life, at least have consideration for David’s (though part of his mind told him he was crazy for that).

It didn’t even matter that the death’s were starting to bother him less and less, that he’d begun to accept them as part of Griffin, like one would accept a hobby of duck hunting or bass fishing.

And Millie, she didn’t understand. Sweet Millie, who reminded him of home and was the answer to all of his desires and feelings from growing up, feelings like wanting to fit in and wanting to have a mother and wanting his dad to be nice to him again and wanting to be happy and for everything to be perfect. Millie would look at him, that small frown on her lips and she would ask, “Where are you going all the time?” and he would lie and make up some story about a dangerous or new place he wanted to take her to and needed to check out or going to China to eat real Chinese and the frown would grow, and she‘d say, “Your hiding something from me again.”

And he wouldn’t know what to say.

 

Griffin groaned and stretched, finally done pouring over the map of a little farming town in Indiana, where he had set his next trap. His brows furrowed when he caught sight of David, who had been lounging on the couch for hours.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he asked, brows still furrowed like he couldn’t possibly think of a reason.

David stared at the ground, watching Griffin’s bare feet flex and shift against the gray floor, liking the way his frayed jeans fell across the top of them. “I don’t know,” he said, and didn’t look up to meet his eyes.