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perpetual_motionTitle: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Jack Returns [19/24]
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order [Manhattan Prep universe]
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ed/Lupo, Jack/Mike Cutter, Mike/Connie
Summary: Jack's back, and so's the angst
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies. As always.
Author's Note: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen
Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Jack Returns [19/24]
By Perpetual Motion
“Practice,” Coach Fin says gravely as the guys settle on the bleachers by the pool, “is the only thing that’s gonna get your scrawny butts past regionals. You understand me?” He waits for a general murmur of agreement and nods once. “Don’t think you get to slack now that you’re on the board for the regionals. Regionals don’t mean state. Understood?” There’s another murmur of agreement. “All right, then. Find time to practice. Don’t care if you’re in here to relieve stress or avoid your roommates; just find the time.” He waves a hand and the boys scatter. He manages to grab Mike Cutter as he tries to escape.
“Something you need, Coach?” Mike asks, voice steady but he can’t quite look Fin in the eyes.
“Your times are off, Cutter. Your butterfly’s down by a whole second. I just wanna be clear that when I say, “everyone should practice”, I mean “you should practice”. You got it?”
Mike nods, reminding himself that Coach Fin isn’t actually as menacing as he always seems to be when he’s lecturing. “Got it, Coach.”
“Good. You’re a good swimmer, Cutter. I don’t know what’s got your head wrapped up, but shake it loose.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike mutters and breaks for the showers. He can’t imagine Coach Fin’s response to finding out it’s Jack McCoy that’s making Mike lose concentration. His other teacher’s have called him on it as well, but Mike’s just muttered about heavy homework loads and concerns over swim team regionals. Now that Coach Fin’s caught on, he’s out of excuses.
“Head in the game, Mikey,” Mike says under his breath as he pushes open the door to the lockerroom. Jack’s been gone nearly a month. All Mike can do is get over it and move on. Put some time into practice, like Coach has ordered, and see if laps won’t actually do him some good.
Mike sits down at his desk after dinner and charts out his week. He needs at least an hour of trial practice a night, which he already has penciled in for directly after dinner, and he needs time to do his homework. Homework usually takes another hour. The pool stays open until ten, and that’d give him about an hour and a half to swim.
“Hey,” Lupo says, breaking Mike’s thought process. He walks into the room and flops onto Mike’s bed like he doesn’t have bones. “Kevin’s studying. You’re studying. This place is boring.”
“So go see Ed,” Mike says, although he knows Lupo won’t.
“He’s probably hanging out with his new roommates.”
“You always say that.”
Lupo shrugs, looking like he’s been kicked. “Yeah, well.”
Mike works his mouth back and forth, trying to come up with something. What would Ed say, he wonders. “Dude, we can’t both be lame.”
Lupo’s eyebrows come together. “What?”
“You’re bumming around because Ed’s in another hall, and I’m bumming around because, well, you know, and it’s kinda sad. Coach Fin jumped my ass tonight because my time’s are way down, and you won’t get off your ass and go see Ed because he might be hanging with his roommates.” Mike breathes in and out, watching the way Lupo’s face pinches. “Dude, you suck.”
“You sound like Ed,” but it’s not quite as accusatory as Lupo would like it to be.
Mike shrugs. “Maybe. But he could always make a point.”
“Yeah.” Lupo sighs like the world’s ending, and then he rolls off the bed. “Gotta find my shoes,” which is his way of saying he’s going to see Ed.
“Catch you later,” Mike says and looks at his chart again. He could tack it to his bulletin board, call it a night, and veg in the living room. He stands up and pulls his spare suit from a drawer, slipping it on with Coach Fin’s not-quite-accusatory-but-still-pointed tone rolling through his head.
“Going out!” He yells to Kevin’s door, and he takes the stairs down to get his heart pumping before he hits the pool. He cuts across the quad at a slow jog and enters the pool from the main doors.
It’s almost eerily quiet, and Mike exhales loudly just to make some noise. He pads around the pool to the line of starting podiums and strips down to his suit. He stretches, mindful of all the lectures from Coach Fin, and he launches off the starting block with his best butterfly time buzzing in the back of his head.
His first attempt is four seconds too long. Mike jumps from the starting block for his second attempt and nearly belly flops when he sees a silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He’s already in the water, so he swims the length of the pool. It can’t be who he thinks it is. It can’t be Jack. But when Mike surfaces on the other end of the pool, Jack is crouching down and smiling at him.
“Hi,” Mike says as he gasps for air.
“Hello,” Jack says and gives Mike a once-over. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting. Coach Fin’s just-“ Mike presses his mouth closed and digs his fingers into the tile along the edge of the pool. “I was just talking about you.” It’s not what he wants to say, but it’s enough truth for the moment.
“I had to leave,” Jack says quietly, and he’s not quite looking at Mike. “I stayed longer than I should have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should always take credit where it’s due, Mike, but my inability to act like a rational adult is not your fault.”
“I didn’t help,” Mike says with a grimace. “The bathroom thing-“
“Not now,” Jack says, his voice slightly rough. He looks away for a moment, and Mike watches the way his face tightens.
“I want…” Mike’s not sure what he’s trying to articulate. He wants so much. He wants Jack. He wants to pull himself out of the pool, back Jack against a wall, and kiss him until Jack kisses back.
“I know,” Jack stands and slides his hands into his pockets. “Mike,” he sighs out a breath and squints at the far wall. “I’m coming back to school come Monday. Lennie’s done well taking care of things for me, but I need to be here for regionals.”
Mike listens to the water lap around him in the pool. He pulls himself out of the water, pausing to get his footing and catching the way Jack looks at his chest and arms. It makes him flush, but he looks Jack in the eyes. “It’s good to see you, Mr. McCoy.”
“And you, Mr. Cutter.” Jack takes a step back. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Yes, sir.” Mike rotates himself so that he’s facing the pool, and he listens to Jack leave. He is an athlete and a scholar, and he can handle this. He just needs to remember to breathe and not look around until he hears the door clang shut.
He gets down to his best butterfly time after his fifth attempt. He shaves off another half a second after his ninth. Mike doesn’t leave the pool until the janitor comes in and kicks him out at a quarter before midnight.
Part Nineteen
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order [Manhattan Prep universe]
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ed/Lupo, Jack/Mike Cutter, Mike/Connie
Summary: Jack's back, and so's the angst
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies. As always.
Author's Note: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen
Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Jack Returns [19/24]
By Perpetual Motion
“Practice,” Coach Fin says gravely as the guys settle on the bleachers by the pool, “is the only thing that’s gonna get your scrawny butts past regionals. You understand me?” He waits for a general murmur of agreement and nods once. “Don’t think you get to slack now that you’re on the board for the regionals. Regionals don’t mean state. Understood?” There’s another murmur of agreement. “All right, then. Find time to practice. Don’t care if you’re in here to relieve stress or avoid your roommates; just find the time.” He waves a hand and the boys scatter. He manages to grab Mike Cutter as he tries to escape.
“Something you need, Coach?” Mike asks, voice steady but he can’t quite look Fin in the eyes.
“Your times are off, Cutter. Your butterfly’s down by a whole second. I just wanna be clear that when I say, “everyone should practice”, I mean “you should practice”. You got it?”
Mike nods, reminding himself that Coach Fin isn’t actually as menacing as he always seems to be when he’s lecturing. “Got it, Coach.”
“Good. You’re a good swimmer, Cutter. I don’t know what’s got your head wrapped up, but shake it loose.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike mutters and breaks for the showers. He can’t imagine Coach Fin’s response to finding out it’s Jack McCoy that’s making Mike lose concentration. His other teacher’s have called him on it as well, but Mike’s just muttered about heavy homework loads and concerns over swim team regionals. Now that Coach Fin’s caught on, he’s out of excuses.
“Head in the game, Mikey,” Mike says under his breath as he pushes open the door to the lockerroom. Jack’s been gone nearly a month. All Mike can do is get over it and move on. Put some time into practice, like Coach has ordered, and see if laps won’t actually do him some good.
Mike sits down at his desk after dinner and charts out his week. He needs at least an hour of trial practice a night, which he already has penciled in for directly after dinner, and he needs time to do his homework. Homework usually takes another hour. The pool stays open until ten, and that’d give him about an hour and a half to swim.
“Hey,” Lupo says, breaking Mike’s thought process. He walks into the room and flops onto Mike’s bed like he doesn’t have bones. “Kevin’s studying. You’re studying. This place is boring.”
“So go see Ed,” Mike says, although he knows Lupo won’t.
“He’s probably hanging out with his new roommates.”
“You always say that.”
Lupo shrugs, looking like he’s been kicked. “Yeah, well.”
Mike works his mouth back and forth, trying to come up with something. What would Ed say, he wonders. “Dude, we can’t both be lame.”
Lupo’s eyebrows come together. “What?”
“You’re bumming around because Ed’s in another hall, and I’m bumming around because, well, you know, and it’s kinda sad. Coach Fin jumped my ass tonight because my time’s are way down, and you won’t get off your ass and go see Ed because he might be hanging with his roommates.” Mike breathes in and out, watching the way Lupo’s face pinches. “Dude, you suck.”
“You sound like Ed,” but it’s not quite as accusatory as Lupo would like it to be.
Mike shrugs. “Maybe. But he could always make a point.”
“Yeah.” Lupo sighs like the world’s ending, and then he rolls off the bed. “Gotta find my shoes,” which is his way of saying he’s going to see Ed.
“Catch you later,” Mike says and looks at his chart again. He could tack it to his bulletin board, call it a night, and veg in the living room. He stands up and pulls his spare suit from a drawer, slipping it on with Coach Fin’s not-quite-accusatory-but-still-pointed tone rolling through his head.
“Going out!” He yells to Kevin’s door, and he takes the stairs down to get his heart pumping before he hits the pool. He cuts across the quad at a slow jog and enters the pool from the main doors.
It’s almost eerily quiet, and Mike exhales loudly just to make some noise. He pads around the pool to the line of starting podiums and strips down to his suit. He stretches, mindful of all the lectures from Coach Fin, and he launches off the starting block with his best butterfly time buzzing in the back of his head.
His first attempt is four seconds too long. Mike jumps from the starting block for his second attempt and nearly belly flops when he sees a silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He’s already in the water, so he swims the length of the pool. It can’t be who he thinks it is. It can’t be Jack. But when Mike surfaces on the other end of the pool, Jack is crouching down and smiling at him.
“Hi,” Mike says as he gasps for air.
“Hello,” Jack says and gives Mike a once-over. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting. Coach Fin’s just-“ Mike presses his mouth closed and digs his fingers into the tile along the edge of the pool. “I was just talking about you.” It’s not what he wants to say, but it’s enough truth for the moment.
“I had to leave,” Jack says quietly, and he’s not quite looking at Mike. “I stayed longer than I should have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should always take credit where it’s due, Mike, but my inability to act like a rational adult is not your fault.”
“I didn’t help,” Mike says with a grimace. “The bathroom thing-“
“Not now,” Jack says, his voice slightly rough. He looks away for a moment, and Mike watches the way his face tightens.
“I want…” Mike’s not sure what he’s trying to articulate. He wants so much. He wants Jack. He wants to pull himself out of the pool, back Jack against a wall, and kiss him until Jack kisses back.
“I know,” Jack stands and slides his hands into his pockets. “Mike,” he sighs out a breath and squints at the far wall. “I’m coming back to school come Monday. Lennie’s done well taking care of things for me, but I need to be here for regionals.”
Mike listens to the water lap around him in the pool. He pulls himself out of the water, pausing to get his footing and catching the way Jack looks at his chest and arms. It makes him flush, but he looks Jack in the eyes. “It’s good to see you, Mr. McCoy.”
“And you, Mr. Cutter.” Jack takes a step back. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Yes, sir.” Mike rotates himself so that he’s facing the pool, and he listens to Jack leave. He is an athlete and a scholar, and he can handle this. He just needs to remember to breathe and not look around until he hears the door clang shut.
He gets down to his best butterfly time after his fifth attempt. He shaves off another half a second after his ninth. Mike doesn’t leave the pool until the janitor comes in and kicks him out at a quarter before midnight.
Part Nineteen
