[SBURBvivor] - The Gay Test

Two weeks after 'gaymageddon', Jude pops up in front of Rich's study room with a vaguely nauseous and distressed expression.

*This* is a new development, considering the fact that Jude has been staunchly avoiding him for the last two weeks. Only little looks of disgust, fear, or utter blankness. Yet here Jude was, showing an emotion, even if it was 'about to vomit.' Was 'about to vomit' an emotion? No Crocker mask.

Rich pushes his rolling chair away from the computer desk, meeting Jude with his resting bitch face on, still seated. It's not even on purpose. Rich is self-isolating, sure, especially in public, but he's not a total emotionally dead *ass.* Not quite.

Ambivalent is the best way to describe him, honestly--a bitch face would imply there was some sort of spite or shittiness present.

Jude adjusts his collar and grimaces, rubbing his thumbs against the buttons nervously. Thank God his ugly red suspenders aren't resting snug on his shoulders. He had a nasty habit of snapping them anxiously when away from his guardians. Rich's eyes flit to his fingers, which are twitching, and then back up to Jude.

Jude parts his lips and then swallows before he erupts.

"Did you know that Joel is gay?!" His eyes flash with panic as his hands tug at his collar. He's going to rip the buttons off and then be pissed and embarrassed about it and shut his emotions down. Rich has seen this song and dance a million times. His pale brows raise as he slowly shuts his laptop, turning his chair to fully face Jude.

Rich's brows furrow.

"I have, legitimately, no idea what you're talking about." Rich eyes Jude in muted confusion. Rich may be an annoying poofter, but he's not known for lying. That was more the Crocker domain, at least Rich thinks--crying and lying to worm out of their mistakes. He can't quite blame him. Facing the wrath of the Crockers for his mistake would be a fate worse than death.

"Back in high school," Jude explains, hands clasping together, fingers twined, "you all met without me. I was in piano lessons. I remember it clearly." Jude takes a breath, expression shifting into practiced irritation that promises punishment. Future leader of the company. Had to be intimidating. Too bad he was so short. "Now, it was at a rink. I wasn't interested anyways. Dirty and cramped. The carpet was stained with God knows what." Jude's brows raise, all traces of panic replaced with *you better explain this.*

"This is true," Rich acquiesces, ready to turn back to his laptop when Jude snaps his finger.

What an irritating habit.

"Now. That's not the end of it. Joel and Dell had--." Jude shakes his head. "They shared an intimate moment. They're not in a relationship now, but isn't that...downright batty? Unbelievable. Joel isn't--well, I didn't think he was. Dell?" Jude waves it off. "Quite predictable. As for Joel, though--"

Rich squints at Jude. A headache is beginning to form behind his temples.

"--not a chance. And yet. Rich, you knew about this, didn't you. You covered for them." A cold fury, just as practiced, laces his words. Awfully realistic. It's the worst thing about Jude's training. It's starting to seep into him, and in an instant, Rich has to actually examine this situation. *Is* that practiced fury? Or is it legitimate, dangerous anger?

"Jude," Rich says, calmly--

"Don't you *Jude* me," Jude snaps. "You can't talk yourself out of this one, Lalonde. Anyone else I'd expect this from. But *you*? When have you looked me in the eye and lied?"

"First of all," Rich says, annoyed by the only person who can *really* get him angry him save for June, "you never asked me anything of the sort, so I didn't lie to you." He keeps talking even as Jude tries to interrupt. "Secondly. You're intelligent. You also know me. Am I the sort to creep around, desperately trying to see if anyone's kissing?"

Silence reigns for a moment.

"If you think I care about anyone's relationships here, I'm afraid to tell you that you're sorely mistaken. The only time I care is when it interferes with my work. That skating rink has a million darkened, moldy crevices they could've hidden in. They were not skating towards the center of the rink and passionately kissing while ABBA played." Rich folds his hands, an unconscious mirroring of Jude's typical gesture. "Is that why you came? To interrogate me about their idiotic habits?"

Jude takes a deep breath, staring him down. "If you're lying to me, I'm going to be incredibly peeved." Peeved was an understatement. He'd lash out, and soon. "This would only hurt me because you would've been intentionally hiding something from me. As Joel and Dell did! Not even mentioning it! That Joel was. G." Jude had no problem spitting it out earlier, but now that he was calmer, it couldn't spill out like emotional puke. "Gay. I'm not homophobic or anything," Jude adds, tensely waving the possibility away.

"You are not homophobic," Rich repeats, staring at him.

"I love gay people," Jude says, pain evident in his face behind the mask.

"Please stop looking at me like that," Rich says, impatient. "There is no reason to be professional when speaking to me, especially regarding such an asinine topic." A deep breath follows his words. "Joel is not gay. He's been involved with women and he's had crushes on women."

"Oh. Is that it?" Jude's shoulders relax. "What a relief. It was just a mistake, then. Just an error in judgment." Jude laughs, shoving his hands in his ironed slacks' pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his dress shoes. "Talk about being blindsided. Like I said. No problem with. Those--your type of people," Jude amends. "It's just that Joel, well. I mean."

"You're related to him in some sense, or at least you look alike, so it worries you. Don't worry. I assure you there is no gay gene." Rich finally gives in and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's officially passed the Jude Annoyance Horizon. "Joel is bisexual, Jude. He likes both men and women."

Jude finally gives in too--his Rich-Caused Irritation Meter's proverbial thermometer has shattered (RCIM, of course). He glances around and finally seats himself on one of Rich's dingy chairs, crossing one leg over the other, examining Rich, who still hasn't turned around to look at him. The top of his hand rests against his cheek. "So you're telling me--*Rich, turn around,*" Jude snarls.

"That isn't very polite," Rich murmurs blandly, before pushing off with his feet and swiveling to look at the heir once more. "What've you got to say. I have work to do and you're wasting my time. You of all people should know the value of time."

"You're telling me that Dell turned him gay." Jude leans forward, hands folded and elbows now pressed against his knees.

"I am too vexed by you presently to form an argument. So let's just say yes. Kissing Dell helped him realize he liked boys, just not that particular boy. We'll assume. Even though Joel would've had to've had homosexual leanings before." Rich pauses. "Jude, you're giving me a headache."

"You think you haven't given *me* a headache?" Jude's hands fly up, teeth grit. "Do you understand what the last two weeks have been like for me?"

"Agonizing, I'm sure," Rich drawls, lazing back in his computer chair.

"*Yes,* actually," Jude snaps. "My caretakers have been crawling up my spine--" Rich knew that wasn't the expression, but this was serious, so whatever--"about all of this. You've not even thought about the repercussions for the rest of us, Rich. Just for *you*. And if anyone else does this, it'll get worse. I was verbally lashed for hours. I should've known about this, and I should've ensured you kept it private. It could affect our shares."

Rich pauses.

"It could affect our shares?" Rich repeats.

"Yes. You didn't even think about it," Jude mutters, anxious. His guardians had done more than verbally lash him. It hadn't been the worst two weeks of his life, but it'd certainly been in the top ten. Why didn't you know? Were you hiding it? Jude, answer me. Lock him up in his room. We need to put him back in etiquette training. He's losing that refined accent. He's hanging around trash. "Our stocks have--"

"*Our fucking shares?*" Rich erupts, sitting up and throwing his chair aside all at once. The shitty little wheeled device smacks against the carpet as he leans forward, palms against his knees, eyes alight with anger. "Oh, my lord, let us not forget about the *shares*. How dare I compromise the company." His hands trembled. "We are people. *You* might not care about any of us, but that doesn't change the fact that we are."

Jude's flattening himself against the back of the chair, hands gripping the armrests, watching him with indignant shock. And something else.

"How unfortunate for you that I could ever dream of being happy. Unfair. Did you hope to drag me down with you? How *dare* I succeed. How dare I do anything that doesn't involve *you* or the *goddamn company* in *any capacity!*"

His voice is hoarse, cheeks red with anger, as Jude stands, striding forward, eyes flashing. "You've got no idea how selfish you are, do you? Do you understand?" Jude shoves at his chest--Rich grips his wrists and squeezes them as hard as he can, so hard he can feel Jude's throbbing pulse. "Do you get it? No one else here has that luxury. Your parents are negligent, they didn't *train* you right. But have *I* got a choice?"

Jude yanks his hands away, forced to look *up* at Rich. "I can't afford to make a single mistake, and I can't afford *all of you* making more mistakes, because it ruins my life. Don't you *get* it? You're supposed to be the smart one, Rich. Disappointing." The word drips with contempt. "You all say you care for me, but all of you make my life harder and harder, because I have to cover your asses."

His eyes are wet. Rich can't remember seeing him genuinely cry in years. Or maybe he has. Maybe he's seen him cry genuinely, but Jude was too good at making it look fake.

"All of you say hogwash about love. I love you, we all love each other, know that we love each other. You don't fucking love me, none of you do." Curses were spilling out of his mouth. He wasn't in his right mind. "You don't show it. All you do is make my life harder. *I love all of you* more than you could ever love me! I do everything to protect all of you! I take the punishment! And what do I get?" Jude smacks his palm against his chest, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I get fucking nothing. I get left out. None of you even bother to--you just assume I've handled everything, nothing's a bother, that I'm *so* happy having myself *whipped* over your indiscretions!"

Rich stares down at Jude, panting and shaking, face red and his silent tears still spilling. A button falls from his shirt. He *had* torn it off on accident--weakened its thread during his wringing. "*Fuck,*" Joel snaps, scrubbing his eyes. "I've got to get Remy to fix that, or I'm utterly up shit creek without a paddle."

He actually feels...bad for Jude. Worse than he typically feels.

Rich takes a quiet, deep breath. Jude might want him to cry and yell, stay emotional, but he can't. Jude was right. None of them did what he needed them to. How was that truly love?

Jude needs *this*.

"That's one part of this," Rich agrees, dragging his hands through his hair. He hasn't yelled in years, just like Jude hasn't sincerely cried in years. They really do bring out the worst in each other. "You're raked over the coals for what's called 'indiscretion'. And you need to know if you must prepare for more." Rich tilts his head forward. Guilt actually shows in his gaze. It makes Jude feel sickly satisfied, until his next words.

"I contributed to your misery. I never meant to do that. I never want to do that." Rich takes another soothing breath. His throat is tightening. He needs to stay calm. "I present myself in public well. Neatly dressed, utterly silent. Intimidating. Stoic. That isn't enough. I need to take on responsibilities, and I need to keep whatever affairs I have private."

Jude wants to triumphantly shout 'that's right' and throw up confetti, but he also. Really doesn't. He just feels sick and sad and drained.

"I refuse to sacrifice my happiness for the *company,*" Rich says, which just proves he doesn't give a shit about him, and he knows he never did.

"But I will happily sacrifice my happiness for yours." Rich kneels slightly to meet Jude's stature. It's condescending most of the time, but now it's miserably genuine, respectful. "If that means bowing to the company's whims, I'll do it, at least until you come of age and can escape. And when you do, I will follow."

*You don't even care about what Skaianet's doing. You just care that it's interrupting your work.* Then again, leaving would interrupt his work even more.

Jude's rage is finally soothed. There's little resentment bubbling beneath the surface. It just seems like..him. Tired, shaking, wanting to believe so badly in something good.

Rich takes a step back, not wanting to touch him at the moment. "Will you listen to me, and take my words in, when I speak again?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I," Jude mutters, wiping at his eyes. Frustrated. "You'll just have Dell follow me around and annoy me until I listen."

"Perhaps," Rich says neutrally. "I think this is bothering you so much because you're afraid you might've fallen into the same trap. You think there's some poison in your blood that might 'turn you gay'. Just as you fear there's some fatal flaw within you that makes you imperfect and unsuitable for leading the company."

The silence weighs so heavy that it's choking. Jude finally cuts through the bullshit. "Psychoanalysis. I've never respected it. It's all...whatever," Jude says, unable to come up with a scathing insult. "But, yes, I suppose that would ruin my life. Though I wasn't consciously--I don't consciously fear that."

"I'm sure you didn't realize it until it was presented to you," Rich agrees reasonably.

The bright fluorescent light of the room hurts his sensitive eyes. The door to the room is wide open, as it'd been before, but he's in a near-abandoned wing of the building. Camera and bug free. There's very little chance that things were heard. It's relieving, but terrifying when Jude speaks again.

He recognizes that manipulative charm. The saccharine bite of his words.

"Well, I've hardly got any way to figure it out," Jude mutters, shaking his head. "It's not as if Dell would embrace me, and by God, I'd be disgusted if he did. More disgusted than Joel. And I don't *want* to find out, truth be told, but I suppose I am paranoid."

Rich knows where this is going, and he's half-sure Jude is just doing this to *finally* have something to mock him for. Finally, a piece of blackmail.

"Stare at men and see if it does anything to you." Rich delivers the words tonelessly. "I need you to leave now. Go to another room in the hallway, but I have a pressing deadline."

"It's more important than me," Jude observes bitterly.

He's so fucking mean.

"It's not," Rich accedes.

"I need to know. Even if I don't want to, and there's nothing there. You said you'd do anything for my happiness, correct?" Jude shoves his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to Rich. "It wouldn't make me happy. But it would assuage my anxiety. I could finally put this subconscious fear to bed, once and for all."

"You'll be asking me to borrow my magazines, then, of which I have none, I'm sorry to say." His mouth is so dry. This is like every dream he's desperately wished up, threaded with every nightmare he's ever had of Jude turning on him or going entirely blank. Rich had been *over him*. He'd given up on this. He'd finally accepted the impossibility, and Jude was here to hurt him.

Or was he? That was always the fucking catch. Jude was manipulative, shrewd, could lay plans and machinate as well as any political leader, but he was also desperate for love and validation, and full of fear for what the future may bring.

"Don't make me beg," Jude says tersely, irritation flashing in his eyes. *Is it embarrassment? Is it want? Is it him being angry that I'm not going along with his plans?*

It's sickening, but it's so appealing. Rich's stomach has dropped out of him. He feels nauseated. There's nothing he can look at besides Jude's eyes, his features, the straight front teeth that'd been achieved through braces, because Jude *always had to be perefect*. His beauty mark, the stupid way he slicks his hair back.

Rich could reject him, or he could just as blandly play along. Take control of the situation and make Jude regret his ploy. Or, if it was genuine. Possibly. Something.

"You don't want to be the one to initiate it," Rich observes with detachment, expression disinterested, "because it would confirm that you are, and that you want something like this." An out for Jude, a reason for Rich to lean forward, and a way to feign that it meant nothing to him. No blackmail. Look at me, Jude. I'm empty just like you. Do you think you can hurt me?

Jude winces and hunches his shoulders forward, a silent yes.

It's disgusting that it's all Rich needs to play out a pathetic fantasy. He does it *wrong.* He doesn't make it chaste. It's desperate and sloppy and unappealing, in the end.

His fingers grip Jude's chin as he kneels just barely to meet his height, wonders if Jude likes that, his mind running a mile a minute. He brushes his lips against Jude's as his fingers stroke against his nape. He jerks Jude's chin up just slightly so his neck is the slightest bit exposed.

There's a noise of protest and sincere shock when Rich finally kisses him. He strokes his fingers through Jude's hair, parts Jude's lips with his own, bites against his bottom lip but *not enough to mark*, because he knows Jude would hate that. And then he fucks up, because Jude makes him fuck up. He wraps his arm around Jude's shoulders and presses him chest to chest as he *kisses* him, the real way, his tongue delving into his mouth and his teeth grazing Jude's swollen bottom lip a final time as their noses bump together.

The entire time, Jude lets him in. He follows his lead, pushes a little. Jude's kissed girls, he knows what to do. Rich doubts it's genuine. He hopes it is. It has to be. No, it's not--

Their lips part with a disgusting little smack. Rich can feel the drool on his lips. Keep your face, this is the time to play it right.

Rich observes him impartially, standing to his full height and releasing Jude so that they can look at each other properly. No expression. Rich's lips are still red and wet. Rich draws a finger against his bottom lip, neatly wiping the spit away. "That is what it is like, Jude. Congratulations," he adds, dryly. "The full experience. Let's compare it to your first time being with a supermodel. I'm afraid that if you didn't like that, you simply don't like any of it."

The last is obviously a sarcastic, deadpan joke. Rich still kind of means it. He waits.

Jude can still feel Rich's tongue in his mouth, and it's repulsive. He wants to go throw up. He wants to brush his tongue until it bleeds. His bottom lip sort of hurts, and he scrubs at his mouth with his collar, dampening the expensive fabric. Rich still watches him, unmoved, as he shows his disgust.

Of course, it was something loving, passionate, tender and then biting. Everything Jude could want.

It was also with a man, which entirely negated all of the former. It was like eating a delicious brownie and then finding out it was baked with dog shit.

"*Thank you,*" Jude mutters, snorting as he finishes wiping his lips. "That was quite possibly one of the worst experiences of my life, Rich. I have to thank you for that. It ranks up there with Paris, when we--"

"--were forced to eat escargot," Rich finishes, waving him off, stony as ever. No more yelling, no more anything. It had been fake passion, and it had been fake curiosity. They were perfect together in just how fucking fake they were, Rich thinks bitterly. "Now that your interest has been tested, your homosexual panic soothed, and all of your questions answered, I am kicking you out of my office. I have things to do, things that do not involve interfering in your bizarre teenage paranoias."

Rich seats himself in front of the desk, opens his laptop, and ignores Jude. He can hear Jude pausing. He can 'hear' it because usually Jude shuffles out immediately when he's done, but this time there's no sound for a moment. Then, his patent leather shoes are padding across the carpet, and he's left. Rich doesn't relax until he hears the water running in the hallway bathroom.

This is fine, he thinks to himself. This is fine.

---