Tim swallowed his nervousness, chasing it into his lungs with a thick cloud of carcinogenic smoke. His boots made dull thumps as he stepped onto the dead wood that made up the boardwalk, the sound different in no way from the last time he'd been there, nearly 8 years ago. He scanned the beach, almost completely vacant as the sun sank towards the liquid blue horizon, and let his mind skip back to the message he'd gotten a few days prior.

"Lint...hey, it's Jesse. Uh, Jesse Michaels...I was wondering what you've been up to. I guess you're probably on tour or recording or some other...important...thing, but...give me a call when you get a chance, if you want. Maybe we could meet up somewhere. Well...talk to you later."

Tim smirked to himself, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. Jesse Michaels. Not that he'd needed a full name. He'd known the voice the second it made a sound through the small speaker on his answering machine. Had it not been for that, he might have thought someone was trying to trick him. But he knew that voice, despite the years that had passed, he always would know it. Jesse fucking Michaels.

It had taken him three days to return the phone call. He would have liked to believe that it was because he was busy with the band, Rancid, his "new" band that had released their third full length last year. Truth was, he was out getting groceries when Jesse called. And he'd just been too nervous and confused to call him back.

He'd left without much explination. "I'm taking off for a while, Lint." When Tim had asked where to, Jesse had only shrugged. "Not sure. Don't worry about it too much. I'll see you again. We're like two parts of the same whole, you and me. I couldn't stay away for long." Tim snorted, wondering what Jesse would consider 'long' - if eight whole years didn't make the cut, what did?

The phone call back to Jesse had been nothing much to speak of, both of them not sure what to say. They'd agreed, at Jesse's suggestion, to meet at the beach. He hadn't needed to specify which beach. The memories of times spent years ago, one time in particular, in front of this tide, were still fresh in both of their memories.

Tim moved slowly along the boardwalk, lost in his memory. The setting sun cast shadows against the closed-up shops, his own lanky, mohawked form stretching and contorting in sillhouette to look like some sort of emaciated, spiked shadow demon. A ways down the peir, he paused to lean against the rail and comb the beach with his eyes.

An inobtrusive figure stood out against the clean-looking white sand, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black pants. His hair was black, instead of a dirty bleached blond, and he wasn't dressed as one would expect a punk rock "legend" to be, but the stance was the same. Tim took a deep breath, tossed his cigarette to the side, and leapt unceremoniously over the wooden railing.

He landed softly on the beach in a crouch, and if Jesse noticed he gave no indication. Standing up, Tim brushed the sand off of his jeans, leather jacket and palms before meandering slowly to Jesse's side. For a moment they stood in silence, the soul rebel and the roots radical. Tim shuffled his feet a bit and glanced down at them.

"Been a while since I've been out here," Jesse remarked, finally breaking the still of the air.

"Still the same as always," Tim responded, his voice rougher for the years he'd seen, but familiar enough to make Jesse break into a grin regardless.

Turning towards Tim, Jesse found that he was smiling as well. "Just like you," he told him. "Fuckin' punk."

Tim laughed, the sound rippling warmly through the air and straight into Jesse's heart. He wrapped his leather clad arms around Jesse and pulled him close. Jesse mimiced the action, embracing the other man but carefully avoiding the metal spikes that adorned his jacket.

"Fuck. I missed you, man," Tim said, his smile fading with the serious tone.

"Missed you, too, Lint," Jesse responded, pulling away from the embrace. "You want to go get a drink or something?"

Tim shook his head, spikes wobbling a bit with the effort. "Nah, I quit."

Jesse nodded approvingly. "Some coffee then?"

"Couldn't say no to that," Tim agreed. The pair started towards the boardwalk again, and Tim shoved his hands into his pockets. The hug had been enough to remind him how right it felt to have his arms around Jesse, but he knew a lot of time had passed and he'd be needing to keep his hands to himself.

They were silent for a while as they trekked up the beach, neither sure what to say to the other. That was the sad part about growing up, one learned more and more to stay quiet in favor of saving face instead of speaking their mind, or their heart. They reached the sidewalk before Jesse finally spoke again.

"So...band's doing well?"

"Yeah, real well," Tim said, then laughed half-heartedly. "Too well, I think sometimes..."

"Been hearing a lot about you guys," Jesse told him. "Sounds like you're on your way to being rockstars."

Tim scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Shoulda stuck around with us, you could be snorting coke off of Gwen Steffani's ass."

"Surely you can find a cleaner surface than that," Jesse said, sounding thoughtful until they both laughed. "How's Matt taking it?"

"Matt's...well, you know," Tim shrugged. "He's still Matt. 'sides, we're not really as big as everyone makes us out to be."

"Not as big as you deserve to be, anyway," Jesse suggested, getting a derisive snort from Tim in response. "No, really. I've listened. You're even more amazing than I imagined."

Tim shrugged his shoulders again, slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "Thanks...," he muttered. They reached a small cafe and he pulled the door open, waiting for Jesse to enter before following himself. A waitress with a forced smile led them to a booth and placed menus in front of them. They both ordered coffee and sent her on her way.

Leaning back, Tim lit a cigarette then looked back up at Jesse. "So...what have you been up to?" Jesse smirked and looked away, lifting his shoulders and letting them drop. "Eight years and all you have is a shrug. You've been doing something, haven't you? I heard you went to Tibet and became a monk or some shit..."

Jesse laughed and looked back at him. "And you believed that?"

"Well, no, not really...but it's about the extent of what I've heard," he explained. Jesse leaned forward as the waitress brought their coffee and attacked the creamer.

"I've been doing...stuff. You know. Just living," he finally answered. "Playing guitar...painting some...did get into Buddhism for a bit, but that didn't last long."

"Still writing?," Tim asked, pouring sugar liberally into his coffee cup.

"Of course. Always."

"But nothing new on the musical front, really?," Tim continued the line of questioning. Jesse shook his head in response. Tim took a sip of his coffee, immediately regretting it as the liquid burnt his tongue. He set the cup down, keeping his eyes on it and chiding himself for not being able to think of anything to say.

"Kinda weird, huh?," Jesse asked. Tim looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as if he didn't understand.

"What's that?"

"This," Jesse clarified. "You and me, here...now."

"Not that weird," Tim answered, looking down at his coffee mug again. His tone and body language said the exact opposite, though. They told Jesse that it was indeed, very weird.

"Sorry," Jesse muttered, looking down as well. "I didn't mean to screw anything up."

Tim shook his head. "Nah, you didn't screw anything up. I'm happy to see you, really, it's just...well, it's been a long time."

"Too long," Jesse agreed. He looked up at Tim sincerely. "I'm sorry about that, too."

"Don't worry about it. It was probably for the better," Tim assured him. "You missed...a lot of fucked up years of my life. It's better that you come back now. I'd much rather you had not been around for those years."

"Maybe if I was around they wouldn't have been so fucked up..."

Tim looked up, a smirk adorning his thin lips. "You aren't the only driving force in my life, Jesse. I had other problems 'sides you leaving."

"I know, that's not what I meant. I mean...maybe I could have helped," Jesse explained, barely trying to hide the guilt he felt for leaving for so long.

"Nothing you could have done. Matt tried, believe me. I was...out of control." Tim shook his head bitterly at the memories.

Jesse watched him curiously for a few long moments until Tim became aware of the attention and cleared his throat.

"So, where you living now?," he asked, redirecting the topic to something more safe.

"Small town up the coast," Jesse told him. "It's nice there. Quiet. Secluded."

Tim nodded thoughtfully, ashed his cigarette and took a sip of the coffee that had cooled considerably since his last attempt. "How far away?"

"Four or five hours," Jesse answered. "Not too sure, really. I don't keep track of shit like that."

Tim looked down, suddenly a bit nervous again. "If you need a place to stay tonight, I mean, if you don't want to drive back, you can stay with me," he offered. An innocent gesture, in most respects, but Tim knew what he could possibly be setting himself up for. The longer Jesse stayed, the more it would hurt when he left again.

"You sure?," Jesse questioned hesitantly. "I can get a hotel room or something..."

Tim forced a careless smile. "Sure. It's not a problem."

A couple hours later, after the streets had been prowled and the last eight years had been caught up as concisely as possible in such a short period of time, the two found themselves outside Tim's apartment. It wasn't large, but it was far larger than anything he'd seen himself living in a decade ago. He opened the door and held it to let Jesse inside, then followed him in.

Jesse looked around the small entranceway appraisingly. The apartment was very Tim, the bookcase full of records visible from the door and a few framed fliers lining the walls. It was Tim, but it was something else, too. Or someone else. There was another set of keys on the small table by the door, and the muffled sound of a TV came from somewhere in the other room.

Tim watched Jesse almost expectantly as he looked around. When Jesse looked back at him, he smiled and motioned around with his arms. "Home," he said simply, dropping his keys alongside the others on the table.

Jesse smiled, feeling a bit unnerved now that he was here. "It's nice," he told the other man, glancing around again.

A spiked head attatched to a white Subhumans shirt and bleached jeans came around the corner.

"Hey, Tim, this guy from, fucking uh...," the spiked head spoke, not glancing up as it rounded the corner. His hands were searching his pants. Jesse didn't need any introduction to know who he was. "Shit! Fuck...where'd I put that goddamn number?"

Tim laughed. "Hey, Lars, someone I want you to meet."

Lars looked up, noticing the other man in the room for the first time. "Oh...fuck! Shit...I mean...gosh darn it all to heck," Lars stumbled over his words, laughing at himself. He extended a hand. "Lars Frederiksen. Good with the first impressions, as you can tell."

Jesse took his hand and tried to smile at him. "I know who you are," he said, his tone alluding to nothing about how he felt about him. How is someone supposed to feel about their replacement, he wondered to himself, before continuing with the introductions. "Jesse Michaels."

Lars' eyes widened in recognition as he shook Jesse's hand. "Ooooh fuck, you're...damn. It's a pleasure to meet you. Really, I've heard a lot about you."

Jesse released his hand, convincing smile still in place. "Thanks. I've heard a bit about you, as well." That was a lie, he couldn't remember Tim having mentioned anything about his roommate while they were out...not even the fact that he had a roommate.

Tim scratched at the back of his head, possibly the most uncomfortable with this exchange. "Hey, you know what'd be cool? If we all stood around in the hallway for a long time. Too bad that'd never happen..."

Lars laughed, taking the hint. He started back into the other room, Tim following him and Jesse following Tim. Lars reclaimed his place on the couch and started looking around the coffee table.

"So...yeah. This guy from the fuckin' venue we're supposed to play in Seattle next month called, and I didn't really know what the fuck to tell him so I said you'd call him back," he told Tim, finally unearthing a slip of paper with a number on it.

Tim collapsed onto the couch next to Lars and took the number from him, his eyebrows raising as he read over the accompanying information. Jesse watched the two of them from the other couch where he'd chose to sit, feeling a little out of place. "Right...him," Tim said after a second, then handed the peice of paper back to Lars. "I don't know anything about that shit. You should have Matt call him."

Lars nodded. "Yeh, I'll get Ringmaster Freeman to handle it," he agreed. "I gotta go over there in a while anyway." He retrieved the remote from where it left it laying and started to idly click through channels. Tim looked over at Jesse, who wasn't watching the TV but was looking over the various decorations on the walls. He smiled to himself, noting how out of place Jesse still looked in any sort of domesticated surrounding. He fit in much better on the beach, on the streets or in a small smoke-filled club.

Jesse's dark eyes met Tim's, snapping him out of his reverie. They watched each other for a minute, and Jesse smiled. It was all Tim could do not to leap up and pounce on him. Instead, he rose off the couch.

"You want something to drink?," he asked Jesse, shedding his leather jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch.

Jesse watched him for a moment longer, his eyes holding a strange sort of confusion, then shook his head. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"I could use a beer," Lars suggested, looking up from the TV to give Tim a wide grin. Tim snorted and shook his head before making his way to the kitchen.

"So, how long you gunna be around?," Lars decided to attempt conversation. Jesse fidgeted with the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt before responding.

"Not sure. I'm sort of just...playing it by ear, I guess."

"That's cool," Lars said. "Don't feel weird about staying here. Any friend of Tim's is a friend of mine, and I'm glad to have you."

Jesse tried hard to return the smile that Lars gave him, but found himself falling short. Friend of Tims? Is that all he was now? Just how much had Tim told this guy about him, anyway? He managed a "Thanks" in reply before Tim ambled back into the room.

Tim threw a beercan at Lars', who caught it before it came into contact with his head. He grinned at Tim. "Thanks, you're a doll."

Tim blew a kiss at Lars jokingly, settling onto the couch and popping open the can of Mountain Dew he'd retrieved for himself. Jesse watched the exchange, seeming passive, but feeling more out of place all the time. The three of them watched TV, or stared at the TV and thought, for a while. Before long, Lars had finished his beer and stood up.

"Arrite, I'm off to Matt's," he announced, searching the coffee table for the number of the guy in Seattle again.

"Hey, Lars...," Tim trailed off, watching the other man as he collected his jacket then turned to look at him.

"Yeah?"

Tim lowered his voice a bit, wishing Jesse wasn't in the room. "Could you...not tell Matt that he's here?"

"Not tell Matt that he's where? Matt isn't here...," Lars asked, obviously confused. Tim inclined his spiked head in the general direction of Jesse and Lars' eyes widened in understanding. "Ooooh, right. On account of...sure. No problem."

Tim sighed inwardly. Way to make it sound good, Lars. "Thanks," he grumbled. Lars, oblivious as ever, waved to Jesse and told him it was nice meeting him before leaving.

Inane garbling of people on the TV filled the room, which would have otherwise been cloaked in a heavy silence after the door closed. Tim cautiously looked over at Jesse, wondering how he could seem so far away even though he was closer than he'd been in eight years. Jesse met his eyes unsurely.

"Matt doesn't want me here," he stated, rather than asked.

Tim sighed. "He can hold grudges, you know. He's just mad that you waited so long to come back, I think."

"Or he thinks I shouldn't have come back at all."

Very astute of you, Jesse. Tim looked at the floor for a long moment. "Does it matter?," he finally asked.

"I don't want to cause any conflicts in your life, Tim. That's not why I came," Jesse said neutrally.

"You never used to worry about causing conflicts in my life," Tim remembered. Jesse sighed and looked down at his hands again.

"Look, I said I'm so-"

Tim cut Jesse's apology off. "You used to be my life," he stated, point blank. Jesse was taken by surprise and found himself speechless for a while, not daring to look back up at Tim.

"Are you with him?," he finally asked. He knew it wasn't something he should have been asking, but then again he wasn't entirely sure where he stood with Tim right now. This whole situation was a lot more confusing than he'd expected it to be.

"Who?," Tim questioned.

"Lars."

"No."

"Oh." Jesse finally glanced up, finding Tim watching him.

"If this is too weird for you, and you want to leave...it's okay," Tim told him, trying to sound reassuring.

Jesse shook his head. "I'm not going to run away just because things are a little rough."

"Well what do you know. Things have changed," Tim remarked, smirking a little bit. Jesse winced.

"I deserved that," he conceded. Tim watched the other man, perched on the couch carefully like he was ready to bolt at any second despite his claims that he'd stay.

"Nah, you didn't," Tim told him, then lowered his voice a bit. "Matt told me I shouldn't forgive you so easily, but I guess I can't help it."

"I wish he didn't hate me. It would make this a lot easier," Jesse mused.

"He doesn't hate you. And even if he does, he'll just have to get used to it," Tim said.

Jesse raised an eyebrow at him curiously. "What's he getting used to?"

"Not too sure of that yet...," Tim trailed off thoughtfully, then grinned. "Hey, I have something you'll wanna see."

Jesse watched the guitarist as he hopped up off the couch and headed back down the hallway, amused with the energy that he still possessed after all these years. A few moments later he returned with a video tape, which he promptly inserted into the player. Grabbing up the remote, he practically dove next to Jesse.

"What is this?," Jesse asked as Tim got settled on the sofa and static appeared on the TV.

"Shhh...just watch."

And so he did.

The static gave way to a choppy black and white recording of a smoke filled club. Four figures were on stage, the energy they gave off was almost tangible despite the music being indiscernable through the bad recording. As he watched, a sad, nostalgic sort of smile crept onto Jesse's face. He knew what this was.

"Last show at Gilman?," he asked Tim, just to make sure.

Tim shook his head. "Nah. Almost the last...not quite."

The music stopped for a moment, and Jesse heard his own voice, younger, come through the speakers on the TV even though the sound quality wasn't so good. He joked with the crowd for a few moments before they started off into another song.

"Who taped this?," he wondered aloud.

"Not sure...some kid gave it to me at a show a few months back. He said it was a copy he got from one of his older friends."

Jesse snorted. "His older friends, huh? Love the sound of that..."

Tim looked over at him and smiled. "Well, we're legends now."

"Being a legend makes me feel old," Jesse muttered.

"Don't worry, most of the kids on the streets don't even remember who you are," Tim told him, jokingly reassuring. Jesse smirked at him before going back to watching the video.

Jesse focused on the younger version of Tim leaping around stage as he played, laughing and full of vigor. That's how he had always remembered Tim, even though the last time they saw each other he'd been much different. The usual bright grin and mirthfilled eyes had been replaced by a look of lost hope, confusion and rejection. Jesse clenched his teeth and slid over to Tim, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist from behind and leaning his cheek against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I left," Jesse whispered against his neck.

Tim was taken by surprise completely by the action, but relaxed after a moment and leaned back against Jesse. He turned his head and spoke into Jesse's hair. "Don't be sorry, just don't do it again," he told him quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and sliding his arms over Jesse's.

"You want me to stay?," Jesse asked hesitantly, gnawing on his lower lip.

Tim turned around in his arms to face him. He reached out and traced Jesse's jawline softly, then forced his head up to look at him. Jesse watched Tim's deep blue eyes, which for the first time tonight weren't clouded with mixed or hidden emotions. Smiling, Tim shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Right now is all that matters, right now."

Jesse nodded, smiling as well. He let his gaze drop to Tim's lips, then looked back up at his eyes almost questioningly. Tim took a deep breath to try to steady his racing heart. Don't fuck this up, Armstrong. Tilting his head very minutely, he let his mouth reach Jesse's at a slow pace. There was no spark that went off as they kissed, softly and slowly, but it was more reassuring that there wasn't. It was just as comfortable as it was supposed to be. Tim laced his arms around Jesse and pulled himself close to him.

Jesse broke away from the kiss, only moving far enough away to watch Tim. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jesse's as their breath returned to normal. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open and he looked back at Jesse, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

"Come to bed with me," he suggested. Jesse wasn't about to decline.