My new goal is to be the last one in fandom to finish my ficlet requests. I think with a little dedication, that goal is definitely within my reach. Also, I think in future I'm going to try to focus a little harder on the "let" part of ficlet.

All of which is to say,



Sometimes, at times like this, JC really wished the rest of the guys could see him.

Well, maybe not see him see him. Because to see him, they'd have to be in the same room, and while JC was down with that – Oh, was JC down with that. JC was fabulously down with the idea of the guys watching at a time like this, or maybe Lenny Kravitz, or, well, anyone, unless they were working for the National Enquirer or hiding a digital camera in their trucker cap. And even that made JC shift a little in his seat, though the thought was not without a pang. The guy who'd wired Tom Cruise's house had sworn to JC that he could rig up the bedrooms so that absolutely no one could see the cameras, and set them up so no one but JC could ever gain access, through some sort of retinal scan technology that was only used at the Pentagon and, apparently, Tom Cruise's house. JC had thought long and hard, but in the end he was forced to admit that it was a little too risky for someone with as artistic a temperament as he had. Especially if he was the only one who could ever gain access, because then he'd have no one else to blame when Johnny started screaming about the tape turning up on the Internet. Still, it was a sacrifice. Fame really was a bitch goddess.

But that was not the point. The point was that however uninhibited JC might be about the guys watching him at a time like this, Justin was not quite so relaxed. He was really rather sweetly shy about things like that, poor lamb, and JC tried to respect his feelings. Besides, he'd always thought it was easier to coax Justin into one compromising situation at a time. Well, not easier, because JC knew he could convince Justin to do just about anything, but given Justin's reserve, it was really kinder not to take too much advantage of him.

So he didn't really wish the guys could physically see him, but maybe they could be there in spirit. Although that idea made JC a little nervous, as if there might be all sorts of spirits floating around the room, peering over his shoulder. And Justin was showing just a little too much thigh for JC to be comfortable with the idea that his dead grandma might be hanging out, checking on what her favorite grandson was up to.

What he really wanted was for the guys to somehow gain knowledge of what was happening right now, through some means to be determined at a later date. Because as far as JC was concerned, there'd been just a little too much chitchat lately about how he was dreamy, drifty, not quite as smooth with the patter as the rest of them. That JC was, as Chris put it, "not the sharpest tool in the shed." Which was just stupid when you thought about it, because there were lots of tools that weren't even supposed to be sharp, like what were you going to do with a really sharp hammer, but try telling that to Chris.

JC couldn't even count on Joey to back him up, Joey who was the nicest of all of them and who liked JC best besides. Even Joey had pulled him aside and said, in his concerned voice, the voice that always managed to trick JC into thinking that he was going to like what came next just because he liked Joey's voice that way so much, it was so rich and full and deep dusky blue. Even Joey had said to him, "Baby, I think you might be in over your head with J."

Justin was the only one who never gave JC a hard time. Justin would just smile and dip his head so that he could look at JC through his eyelashes, a look that sometimes made JC drag Justin out of the room with a haste that always made the rest of the guys laugh. They could laugh all they wanted, though, because they'd never know why Justin looked at JC like that. They'd never know what Justin was thinking when he looked like that.

They'd never know what Justin looked like right now.

And a good thing, too, because they'd probably drop down dead if they could see what Justin looked like right now. It had been a little hard on JC's heart, too, when he looked up and saw Justin standing in the doorway. It wasn't that he was surprised – he'd asked for it, after all, and Justin hadn't told him no. Justin never told him no. Not when JC asked the right way.

JC always asked the right way.

The right way was when they were lying in bed, two jigsaw pieces shading into each other, so perfectly that JC always wondered what the puzzle would look like when it was put together, all three thousand pieces. All he could ever see was the way the two of them fit. The right way was when JC tipped his forehead down and breathed, "Do something for me?" into the back of Justin's neck. He always left his mouth there, soft against Justin's skin, to trace the trajectory of his words as Justin turned toward him. That was the sweetest part, JC sometimes thought, just after he asked, just before Justin answered, when Justin's smile bloomed slow and honey-warm and eager.

The right way was when Justin said, "Yes," the word opening between them like a flower in the sunlight. "Yes."

JC always asked the right way. And JC always got what he wanted.




Right now, what he wanted was standing just in front of the couch, a small smile not quite hiding the pink tip of a tongue, a white shirt not quite hiding a pink lace bra strap, a blue and gray plaid skirt not quite hiding the twin pink lines of garters.

"Your mom let me in," Justin said. "You said I should come over after cheerleading practice?"

JC tried very hard to catch his breath, because it would be truly be a tragedy if he keeled over right now, before he even had the chance to push that skirt up around Justin's waist and … JC tried to remember what the symptoms of a heart attack were. He thought maybe a shooting pain up one of your arms, but he couldn't remember whether it was the right one or the left, although he guessed that it didn't really matter. It wasn't his arm that was in pain.

"I'll just put my bag down," Justin said, dipping his shoulder so that his clear vinyl backpack slid down to his elbow. It was the same kind JC had seen a bunch of private school girls carrying the other day, as they clustered around one of the tables in a coffee shop. He'd watched them from behind his sunglasses, fascinated not so much by how beautiful they were, because they weren't, not really. They were still girls, some a little chubby, some with less than perfect skin, but JC was drawn by the effortless ease with which they moved through their world, protected by something stronger and closer to the bone than beauty. They seemed so convinced of their welcome, wherever they went, so convinced that whatever they asked for, they would get. JC hadn't had that when he was their age. Some days he still wasn't sure he had it. He'd watched them so hard that he didn't even notice Justin was standing behind him until Justin's hand flashed in front of his face. JC had looked up, startled, a little guilty, expecting Justin to laugh at him. Justin hadn't said a word.

"Is here okay?" Justin said, looking back over his shoulder, tilting his hip so that the hem of the skirt flickered. It made JC a little dizzy. He wasn't sure why Justin wanted to dump his bag on the floor across the room instead of right next to the couch, but he nodded. He understood when Justin bent to put the backpack down. The skirt lifted slowly, teasingly, revealing a triangle of pink lace framed by the garter belt. JC looked down quickly, in a desperate attempt to keep things from ending before they'd even started. He followed the lean golden line of Justin's legs, made even leaner and more golden by the shimmer of his stockings, down to Justin's feet. He was wearing what looked like brand new Pumas, in exactly the same blue and gray as his skirt. Trust Justin to accessorize perfectly.

Somehow that thought turned JC on even more.

Justin said, "JC?" and hurried across to him. The muted rustle of his skirt was obscene and luxurious at the same time. "Do you want me to go get someone?"

"No!" JC said. Justin grinned quickly, then bit it back and let his teeth linger on his lower lip.

"No," JC said, more calmly. "Sit down right here by me."

Justin swung easily by him and sat in the corner of the couch. When he crossed his legs, JC could see a thin strip of naked skin between the bottom of the skirt and the top of Justin's stockings. He traced a finger over it, as gently as he could, and Justin caught his breath. The sound shivered in JC's ears as he drew his finger along Justin's thigh until he reached the taut pink elastic of the garter. A small metal button, not quite disguised by an embroidered pink daisy surrounding it, pressed into Justin's skin where the stockings were fastened. JC pushed his finger against it, watching Justin's skin whiten around it. He wondered how the bite of the metal felt. He wondered how hard he'd have to press with his tongue until the button gave and the stocking fell, leaving Justin's leg bare.

"C?" Justin said, his voice rising and then dropping quickly, as if he hadn't been aware of how it would sound in the empty room. JC pushed harder.

Justin brushed his palm down over his skirt, and JC let his hand be swept away. Justin left his hand on the couch between them, his fingers just touching JC's leg. His nails were painted pale pink.

"Do you – what do you want to do?" Justin said. He was breathing a little harder than JC was now. This close JC could see that he'd put something on his lips, something shiny and almost clear.

All JC'd had in mind when he came up with this idea was making Justin twirl a few times, then bending him over the side of the sofa and flipping that skirt up. He didn't say that, though. Instead he just smiled slowly and said, "I don't know, J. What do you think we should do?"

"I don't – maybe we could have a drink?"

"Sure," JC said. It was his turn to swing by Justin. From the kitchen he called, "You want a beer?"

"JC," Justin said. "We're not old enough." JC rolled his eyes. "Besides, I don't like beer." JC rolled his eyes harder, but he reached into the cabinet for two glasses.

Justin took his drink from JC's hand cautiously, dipping his little finger over the rim and then sliding it into his mouth. "It's good," he said. He drank deeply, watching JC the whole time. "What is it?"

JC leaned close and took the glass from Justin, holding it out in his free hand. When JC kissed him, Justin tasted crisp, airy, like something that would make you drunk before you even realized that you were drinking. "Mimosa," JC said, and kissed him again.

JC had a glass in each hand, and Justin's hands were braced on the arm of the couch behind him, pushing him forward from the waist. It was strange to kiss like that, touching only at the lips, leaning into each other desperately, as if they were balanced carefully over a steep drop. When Justin pulled back, looking flushed and dizzied, JC felt for a moment as if he might fall. Justin put four fingers on JC's arm, quivering a little. Their eyes met as they steadied each other.

"Should we –" Justin said. "Should we –"

"Oh yeah," JC said. "Oh, we should."

JC put the glasses down on the table with a brisk clink. He slid a hand around Justin's waist, its progress slowed by the rough drag of wool. Justin moved easily when JC tugged, settling over JC's lap, thighs squeezed tight and hot against the outside of JC's, arms pressing against JC's shoulders and the back of the couch. Justin smiled down at him, wide and welcoming and familiar. JC reached up and opened two of the buttons on Justin's shirt.

"C," Justin said, leaning back and buttoning them up. He grabbed JC's hand, twining their fingers together, and pressed it back into the soft velvet of the couch. "Come on," he said, and rocked forward. "We can just –" and his lips grazed lightly across JC's and then dipped to JC's jaw.

JC closed his eyes and tipped his head back as Justin kissed him, softly, a little hesitantly, but still familiar, tongue teasing at the spot at the top of JC's throat that always made him catch his breath. Justin's cheek was warm against JC's, familiar, and a familiar scent clung to him, not sickly like a perfume but slight and sweet, with a snap of spice behind it, like a vanilla bean split with a sharp knife.

The shirt whispered sharply against JC's fingers as he opened it again. Justin sat back, holding the shirt closed with one hand. "Don't," he said. "C, come on."

"You come on," JC said. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know," Justin said, looking down. For a moment JC couldn't tell if he was serious. Then Justin looked up swiftly, his lashes lowered, and JC knew. "I mean, it would be different. If it were – if I were special."

"Oh, you're plenty special."

"I just – we barely know each other. I just think it's wrong." Justin pursed his lips prettily. The effect would have worked a little better if JC hadn't known exactly what Justin looked like when he was trying not to laugh.

"You didn't think it was so wrong last night –" Justin sat back hard on JC's knees and flicked the skirt pointedly. "Oh, all right, all right," JC said. "Come on, baby, how can it be wrong when it feels so right?"

Justin huffed and let his hands flop to his sides. "You can do a little better than that."

JC looked at him, lower lip pushed out, legs bent sweetly under the skirt, white shirt dangling open over his golden stomach. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I can." He ran his hand slowly up Justin's thigh. When it slipped beneath the hem of his skirt, Justin lifted a hand as if to brush it away. Justin let his hand fall when JC's stilled. Carefully JC hooked a finger under the edge of Justin's stocking. Inch by inch he pulled his hand closer, coaxing Justin gently back into his lap, until their hips met and his mouth was next to Justin's ear. "Give me a hint," he murmured, and licked Justin's throat. Justin arched up with a shiver.

"Maybe," Justin breathed, settling down again into JC's lap, tilting his neck up against JC's mouth, "maybe it would be different. If we were. If we were, you know. Going out or something."

"You want me to ask you out?" JC said.

"Well," Justin said. "Homecoming is coming up."

JC almost laughed, but Justin shifted in his lap again, so sweetly, and JC decided he really didn't want to drag this out any more. He sighed. "J," he said, "will you go to the homecoming dance with me?"

Justin smiled, open-mouthed and easy. "Yes," he said, and threw his arms around JC's neck.

If JC had known that homecoming was such a magic word, he would've used it a lot more in high school. Justin swarmed over him, rocking insistently into him, moaning and murmuring as JC's lips moved over his skin. He protested softly when JC tried to unhook the bra, but let it be pushed up into a tangled rope cutting across the top of his chest. JC tongued the rough lace and Justin pressed hard into him, grinding their hips together until JC's vision started to swirl at the edges.

When JC slipped two fingers under the back of the skirt, into Justin's panties, Justin reached back and knocked his hand away. JC kissed Justin until he was panting, a hot shattered sound, and let his teeth graze Justin's shoulder. When Justin pushed his hand away a second time, it was a lot less convincing. JC kissed him again, until Justin's hips were working desperately, a dizzying impossible rhythm. The third time JC grabbed Justin's wrists in one hand and pinned them behind his waist.

For a split second Justin froze, arched, his head thrown back, his body a slick sweet curve from throat to hips. "Fuck," JC groaned, and Justin fell into him. His hips twisted wildly against JC's hand.

"Hold still," JC said, hopelessly, "baby, still, hold still," but his words only seemed to drive Justin faster. "Fuck," he said again, when Justin's teeth sank suddenly, viciously, into his shoulder. He bucked up and jerked his hands away from Justin's body. Justin slumped against him, shaking. Every breath was like a shock against JC's skin.

After a moment Justin stretched and stood up carefully. A scrap of pink silk hung down lewdly below the hem of his skirt. Justin lifted the edge with two fingers and examined the torn seam. He bent to tug it down and then dropped it in JC's lap. "I didn't even feel it rip," he said.

JC just looked at him.

"Well, okay," Justin said, straightening his skirt. "I, um, I have to go."

JC sat up straight. "Wha –"

"It's almost six," Justin said demurely. "I'll get in trouble if I'm late for dinner."

"But – I thought… Aren't we going to –"

"Oh, that," Justin said. He smiled down at JC. "I was thinking. I think it'll be a lot more romantic if we wait."

"No it won't!" JC said. "Wait for what?"

"Homecoming, of course," Justin said. That damn smile was still on his face. "It'll be so much more special if we wait." He turned and walked across the room, skirt bouncing as he picked up his backpack. JC sagged back into the couch like somebody'd shot him.

One hand braced against the wall, Justin turned back. "C," he said, his voice low. "If you ask –" He stopped. "If you ask," he said, "you know what I'll say." Justin smiled, slow and warm, a smile that JC had seen so often before. He thought maybe he'd never really known what it meant.

When JC didn't say anything, Justin's smile widened. He took a step toward the hallway, then paused again. He looked back over his shoulder. "So," he said. "You don't – you'll wait for me?"

"Yes," JC said, the word opening like a door between them.




The water in the bathroom had been turned off for a good five minutes before the enormity of what JC had done hit him. He couldn't really blame himself for being stupid, though. It wasn't like any blood was getting to his brain.

He had to do something, though. He stumbled down the hallway toward the stairs, hollering, "J!" Justin ran lightly down and met him by the front door. He'd changed, but just barely, the white shirt buttoned decently up to his neck, jeans taking the place of the skirt that JC could see stowed safely in his backpack.

"Shh," Justin said. "I'm right here."

JC pushed him into the wall and kissed him gratefully. Justin pulled back and said, "JC."

"Mm," JC said, and tried to drag him by the hand up the stairs. Justin didn't budge. "Oh, come on," JC said. "You can't be serious."

"I told you," Justin said. "I'll be late for dinner." He slid easily out of JC's grasp and headed out the door.

"Oh, come on!" JC yelled. Justin didn't turn back, just kept walking down the driveway to his car. JC could see the pink edge of the garter belt where Justin's shirt wasn't tucked into his jeans properly. "Not even a blowjob? You obviously have no idea how Catholic schoolgirls really operate!"

The guy trimming JC's hedges looked up curiously, but Justin just fluttered a pink-tipped hand at him and got into his car.

Another horrible idea struck JC. "Justin!" he yelled, chasing the car down the driveway. "Justin, when's homecoming?"

Justin honked his horn and drove off. JC was left standing alone in the middle of the driveway. He walked slowly back into the house, carefully not looking at the guy in his hedges. He sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. He knew there was a call he needed to make.

"Listen," he said as soon as the phone was picked up on the other end, "if you love me, I need you to do me a favor and not interrupt me and most of all not laugh."

Apparently Joey didn't love him that much, because he was already chuckling. "Who is this?" he said.

"I need you to help me plan a homecoming dance," JC said. He put his head down on the table and closed his eyes and waited for Joey to stop laughing.