Written for the 2007 JuC Story Swap -- for Zaen

~ ~ ~ ~

He’d offered to park his truck in short-term parking, come into the airport, and wait in the VIP lobby for him, but his brother said there was no need to waste the money on parking. "Just pick me up at the curb," he’d said, sounding annoyed and weary.

"Like the cheap piece of meat you are," Tyler had joked, and JC had made that snorting noise that meant he was only pretending to be amused.

He hadn’t seen him in almost two and a half months, and their infrequent telephone conversations had been limited to practicalities. The boat dock had been built, the inspectors had signed off on it, the chimney in the back of the house had been cleaned, and did he have any bright ideas about what to get Mom for her birthday? Due to the time difference most of their communications were messages left on cell phone voice mails, or relayed via their father. It seemed funny now, he thought as he struggled to navigate the Jeep through the unruly mobs of Orlando tourists clogging the roads around the airport, but at the beginning of the hiatus he’d actually thought that his brother would have some down time, some opportunities for relaxation. That was until he saw first-hand the amount of stress and work that went in to a solo career.

Standing at the curb outside the airport terminal, JC looked tired and more like a homeless person than a multi-millionaire. He was pale and unshaven behind the big, dark sunglasses, and his nose was red. His hair was longer than it had been in some time, but it didn’t look particularly clean and was stuffed under a cap that looked too big for his head. His green shirt clashed with his brown track pants, which clashed with his blue flip flops. He looked like a bum, and the contrast between him and the brightly dressed, chattering tourists outside the departure terminal was pretty sad, but Tyler grinned at the sight of him anyway. He was standing at the curb with a small duffel bag at his feet, talking on his cell phone, and he gave Tyler a small wave and a distracted smile when he pulled up. He threw himself and the duffel into the passenger seat, shaking his head and saying "forget it. Not happening" into his phone as he slapped Tyler on the shoulder and motioned him to move the jeep along. "Look, I’m not talking about this anymore. I just landed in Orlando and I don’t want to think about any of this until I’m back in L.A. I’ll call you then." He nodded curtly, and sighed as he keyed the small red cell phone off and tossed it into the duffel bag at his feet.

"Joshua." He was one of the few allowed to call his brother by his given name, and he called him by it as often as possible, although he referred to him as JC to other people, and even thought of him as JC. JC never seemed to notice.

"Tyler." His smile was a little wider, showing clean white teeth as he grinned back at him. He sounded nasally and more than a little congested.

"Where’s the rest of your luggage?"

JC rolled his eyes. "Somewhere between Paris, London, Athens, and here, as far as I can tell." He shrugged, disgusted. "They said they’d send it."

"Maybe they just dumped 'em off the plane into the Atlantic."

"Ha," JC said, and he didn’t even pretend to be amused. "So, what’s going on? Is my house still in one piece?"

Tyler’s joking response was lost in the shrill of JC’s cell phone, and he sighed as his brother leaned down and started digging through his duffel. He took the opportunity to execute a particularly sharp and fast left turn, throwing JC’s shoulder and hip into the passenger side door and snickering at the "asshole" muttered at him. The phone continued to ring and JC emerged from the depths of his duffel bag with two cell phones, red for the United States, and blue for Europe. JC frowned at the red one as it continued to tinkle a familiar-sounding melody, his profile tight.

"You going to answer that?" It seemed a logical question, but JC didn’t respond, continuing to scowl at the little phone. Tyler leaned over far enough to see that the display read "J," and risked another glance at his brother’s profile. JC stared at the slick little high-tech phone until it stopped ringing, and then sighed. Tyler raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he turned the radio up. He knew better. There was a tense silence as JC continued to frown out the window, and Tyler cleared his throat.

"So, how was London?"

JC jumped a little, like his mind had been far away. He shrugged, giving Tyler a small smile but not meeting his eyes. "It was good, I guess."

"Did you get your work done?"

"Yeah," JC said slowly, almost reluctantly, and then paused to sneeze twice. "I worked on three good tracks . . . " JC described in detail the production work he’d been doing for an up and coming European pop star and Tyler tuned out the details and listened to the tone of his voice. JC was usually overflowing with enthusiasm when he had the opportunity to work with other musicians, and Tyler had watched as production gigs had gradually evolved from something to fill the time in between albums of his own to work that he really enjoyed. But he didn’t sound nearly as excited about the gigs he was describing as he usually did. He sounded on edge, and exhausted, and grumpy. And he had a cold. None of these were good signs.

Tyler cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Hey, I saw pictures on the internet of you and that Peruvian supermodel, man. What did Justin have to say about tha --" He yelped as JC swatted at him, knocking his hat off his head.

"She was Brazilian, you moron. At least I think she was. And don’t believe everything you read on the internet." The little red phone, still resting in JC’s hand, started to trill its song again, and JC turned it off with a snarl and threw it into his duffel bag. There was silence in the jeep as Tyler negotiated weekend traffic and JC squinted out the window into the dusk, his face turned away from Tyler.

Tyler cleared his throat because the quiet was getting uncomfortable. "So," he started cautiously. "Uh, how’s Justin doing these days, anyway?"

JC didn’t move, but the silence became perceptibly thicker. "I really wouldn’t know," he answered finally. His tone was a masterpiece of disinterest; Tyler felt his own eyes go wide. "I haven’t talked to him in awhile."

"What do you mean?" Tyler asked, thinking of JC’s ringing red cell phone. "Why aren’t you talking to him this time?" He flinched a little as JC’s head whipped around to face him.

"Why should I?" JC asked furiously. "Don’t tell me that you think I’ve been in Europe all this time to follow Justin around," he continued, his voice tense. "Don’t even tell me that you think that. I have a job of my own, you know. I don’t have time to play tour groupie." He turned his face back to the passenger side window and Tyler, eyes still wide and eyebrows hovering around his hairline, heard JC take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay," he finally said, sounding very weary. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to go off on you, man. I’m just sort of sick of the subject, you know?"

Tyler winced but didn’t risk saying anything. JC was sick of talking about Justin? Or sick of Justin himself? He really couldn’t remember that ever happening before. He concentrated on finding his way through the hordes heading for Disney world and getting to the interstate that would take them home. They were well on their way before Tyler groped carefully for another topic of conversation.

"So," he ventured. "I’m not even sure if I should mention this, but Eric left a message at the house this morning. He said he couldn’t reach you, but that Justin had called him looking for you, and also that there was something he needed to talk to you about, and that you should call him."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," JC said, annoyed. He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose, and lapsed into silence again.

"Josh," Tyler said, perplexed. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing," JC said promptly. "I’m just tired. I have a cold, and I’ve been on a commercial flight with a bunch of tourists for too many hours and I’m tired, okay? Just leave it, Tyler."

"Hey," Tyler said defensively. "For someone who just spent a long weekend in the South of France with a Bolivian super model, you’re pretty fucking grumpy. I’m just the messenger; don’t bite my head off."

"Oh, shut up," JC snapped, and eerily on cue, one of the phones in JC’s duffel bag started to ring. Tyler bit his lip hard to keep from laughing as JC aimed an ineffectual kick at the bag by his feet. They finally turned on to the interstate and JC heaved a deep sigh, settling deeper into his seat. Tyler thought his eyes were already closed.

"Need to stop by Target," JC muttered, and Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Why?"

"I need underwear."

Tyler grinned.  "You could just do some laundry, you know."

"You could just shut the fuck up, you know."

"Okay, fine. But not one of your two hour trips through Target, Josh. You go in, you get your underwear, you come out, we leave. Deal?"

"Yeah, yeah," JC said, pulling his hat down over his eyes and settling deeper into the passenger seat. "Wake me up when we get there."

JC could not be a passenger in a vehicle without falling asleep. It never failed, ever. Tyler counted to 30, checked to make sure JC was breathing deeply and evenly, and then pulled his own cell phone out of his pocket. He turned up the radio to hide his voice, and hit the button that would dial that last incoming number.

~ ~ ~ ~

The inside of the Winter Park Target store was like visiting an old friend. JC hadn’t been there in months and months, but he found it greatly comforting to see that he still knew where everything was. It was so soothing to travel the aisles, three packages of Hanes and a bottle of Nyquil in his hands, and revisit such things as household appliances and the cold and flu aisle, and think about absolutely nothing at all. He could feel the exhaustion crash coming like a far-off freight train, bearing down on him in ways that made his movements slow and his eyelids heavy despite the cat nap in the truck. The last six weeks had been tough, he thought as he paused to examine a particularly sleek and attractive silver hair dryer. He was absolutely wiped out and in desperate need of some rest. But the fake adrenaline of over-tiredness kept him restless and out of sorts, and he knew he should be far happier to be home than he really was. Not that he’d planned to be back in Orlando quite this early, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.

He was tired, he reminded himself. He’d been traveling for more than 30 hours, and the screaming toddler he’d been lucky enough to share first class with on the transatlantic flight had made certain that nobody got any sleep. He just needed some uninterrupted rest, that was all. Peaceful, uninterrupted rest, and he’d regain his equilibrium in no time. He sighed, turning away from a very fancy waffle maker and heading for the check out.

Being in Target was like a time warp, and when he finally made his way out of the store it was completely dark and the parking lot was more than half empty. He glanced at his watch but couldn’t remember which time zone he’d set it for, and he was too out of it to focus and try to do the math. Tyler had refused to come inside with him, but even in the darkness it was easy to spot the back of Tyler’s black Cherokee, illegally parked in the fire lane to the right of the entrance. Pulling his cap down lower on his face, JC made his way to the jeep and opened the door, tossing the bag into the back seat. "Okay," he said with a sigh, reaching around for his seat belt. "Let’s go home."

The headlights came on and the turn signal dinged as the jeep pulled slowly away from the curb. JC adjusted his seat belt and leaned down to move his duffel away from his feet. "Did my phone ring?" he asked distractedly, not knowing whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no.

"I didn’t hear it ring," came the casual reply, and JC froze, his heart jumping into his throat and strangling him. His head was still almost to his knees, his hands reaching to the floor for his duffel as he turned his face very slowly to the left. Why wasn’t he more surprised to see Justin sitting in Tyler’s seat, serenely navigating the jeep through the parking lot?

"Hey there," Justin said, meeting his eyes with a warm and ridiculously sexy smile. "Remember me?"

JC brought his head up so fast it hit the dashboard, knocking his hat off and causing pain to shoot through his temple. "Shit!" he exclaimed, and Justin’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the darkness of the truck’s cab. "Shit," he repeated more slowly, leaning back in his seat and staring.

Justin was wearing jeans and a black shirt that made his face look unnaturally pale in the reflection of the dashboard lights. His baseball cap was pulled low on his forehead, casting his eyes in shadow. He had a scruffy, unshaven face, and a gentle, lurking smile. For the space of about five seconds JC simply stared at him in slow wonder and tingling pleasure, and wondered where all the anger and resentment he’d traveled across the Atlantic with had gone. He’d never realized what a long time six weeks could be, and for a moment seeing Justin now was just like the first time he’d seen him – really seen him – that crazy summer of the No Strings tour, and he felt it all the way down to his toes. Suddenly the inside of the truck seemed incredibly cramped.

Justin looked away from him, engaging the turn signal and glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out into traffic, and JC slowly sat back in the passenger seat, almost gasping for air. He wanted to snap at him. He wanted to demand that Justin stop the vehicle immediately. He wanted to make a make a grand exit with a few scathing, pithy words, get out, and slam the door behind him. He wanted to let Justin know exactly how furious he was and describe in very precise terms precisely how much pain and humiliation he’d caused JC. But all he could muster, unbelievably, was a curious "What did you do with my brother?"

Justin shot him a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling beneath the baseball cap. "Are you wondering if I killed him and hid him in the back?" he asked with interest, and laughed delightedly when JC reflexively looked over his shoulder into the dark back seat. "I knew you’d do that!" he exclaimed, and the look he gave JC was brimming with warmth and affection. "No, I did not murder your brother," he continued, still smiling. "We just switched cars."

JC stared at him. "You switched . . . Wait a minute. I thought you were in Scandinavia," he said slowly.

"I was," Justin answered promptly. "I’ve been chasing you across the ocean, man, and I have the jet lag to prove it."

He signaled again, and JC dragged his attention away from Justin’s face and focused on the passing scenery. They were back on the highway and his brow furrowed as he struggled to wrap his brain around the situation. "You switched cars?" he said in growing confusion, and Justin nodded agreeably.

"Yeah, you know," he said, maneuvering the truck into the fast lane. "I gave him mine, and took his."

It was difficult not to sputter, and JC took a deep, calming breath. "When? Why? And where are you taking me?" he asked, and was proud of his calm tone. "Also, what the fuck are you doing here, and why did my brother give you his truck?"

"You forgot ‘What the fuck is going on," Justin said helpfully, and JC clenched his hands into fists to keep from hitting him.

Justin was fond of these sorts of surprises, JC knew. Once he’d picked JC up in LA, ostensibly for lunch, and taken him to Cancun for a long weekend. Another time he’d conspired with JC’s assistant to surprise him in New York City, when JC had thought he’d been in Africa, and they’d spent an amazing four days holed up in a penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria. That, JC remembered, had been especially good because at the time they’d both been exceptionally busy and it had meant so much that Justin had gone to all that trouble . . .

JC jerked himself back to the present. This was not awesome. This was, in fact, a real insult. Justin was crazy if he thought that after months of neglect he could just shanghai JC as if nothing had changed between them, as if everything was just the same as it had been last year or the year before.

But this certainly had all the earmarks of another one of Justin’s little surprises, from the unexpected kidnapping to the mysterious drive through the dark to the apparent collusion from a family member to the self-satisfied smile that kept flirting with Justin’s mouth. JC bit the inside of his cheek to keep from exploding with more furious questions, and stared stonily out the window into the darkness. They were on the interstate and heading west, and JC felt his eyes widen in alarm.

"Justin," he said as calmly as possible under the circumstances. "I’m really not in the mood for this. I have a cold, and I’m tired. Where are we going?"

Justin shot him another one of those soul-weakening smiles. "It’s a surprise," he said smugly, and JC almost groaned with dismay.

"Did my brother sell me down the river?" he asked tiredly. "Or did you really kill him and throw his body in the back?"

"Well, when you wouldn’t answer your phone yesterday or today, I called Tyler," Justin explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "And he called me tonight and told me you, uh, weren’t exactly in the best of moods, and since I was already on my way to your house and he said you were at Target, I just pulled in and, you know . . ." Justin trailed off, shrugging, his smile intact.

"Figured you’d kidnap me?" JC asked with what he thought was remarkable restraint.

Justin’s smile grew. "Yeah. Something like that."

"How very caveman of you," JC said disdainfully. He dug his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose again.

"You should take something for that," Justin said conversationally. "And you know, JC, it’s not like you’ve made this easy on me," he continued, his tone defensive. "What was I supposed to do? I mean, I’ve been calling you for days and you won’t talk to me . . ."

JC was reaching into the back seat for his Target bag, rooting around for his bottle of Nyquil. "It’s about a month too late for those phone calls, Justin," he said sharply, breaking open the package and taking a long gulp of the cold medication. "Maybe longer than that," and Justin fell silent.

"I know," he said finally. "I know, and I’m sorry, and I’m trying to make it better, you know?" He glanced hopefully at JC, his face heartbreakingly earnest in the dim interior of the jeep. "I’m trying. I just want a chance to make it okay."

"Look, Justin . . ."

"No, really," Justin said, and something in his tone made JC stop, made him choke back the words he was about to say, the words that would almost certainly result in Justin turning his brother’s vehicle around and depositing JC on his own front porch. "Please, JC," he said again. "I know I let you down, and I know that things, uh, looked bad, but they weren’t exactly how they looked, you know? And I felt like a piece of shit for canceling our plans . . ."

"Justin. You had Rachel cancel them."

Justin gulped audibly. "I know. That was very wrong of me." He shot JC a quick glance from under his eyelashes. "It was wrong, and I’ll make it up to you. But you know how those things are, JC. You know it wasn’t how it looked. You know that."

JC considered for a moment. It was a huge effort to wrench his eyes away from Justin’s clean profile, but JC managed it as he carefully replaced the cold medication in its box and dropped it back in the bag with his new underwear. He stared out at the dark highway, sparsely populated now that they’d left the Orlando area, and thought about how things looked, and the things they had both done over the years to make things look like something they weren’t, and the efforts they’d put in to making other things look like they were something other than what they were, what they had been for years now.

"Just think about it, C. Yeah?" Justin’s voice was low, almost drowned out by the noises of the engine and the rain beginning to splatter on the windshield. "You have to know I wouldn’t have bailed on you if I’d had a choice."

That’s not the point, JC wanted to say, but his head was starting the spin gently and he realized that he didn’t really know what the point was. God, he was just so tired. The cab of the jeep was so small; he could smell the tangy shampoo that Justin used, and it all felt so familiar, being on the road in the darkness of the night with Justin close by his side. The urge to just close his eyes and let whatever was going to happen to him happen was pretty strong. He tried it for a minute, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

He was vaguely aware of Justin turning up the radio a little and humming along to some classic old song, something about how even the losers get lucky sometimes. The humming became part of the hiss of the tires on the asphalt, the light splattering of rain on the windshield, the other soothing sounds of the road, and JC drifted off.

~ ~ ~ ~

Warm, familiar lips surrounded by faint stubble were gently, sweetly coaxing his own open, moving softly back and forth, and it was pure instinct for JC to turn his head, part his lips and lean in to that mesmerizing heat. As soon as he did he was rewarded by an open mouth that covered his gently, exploring and savoring, coaxing a response that seemed as natural as breathing.

A warm and gentle hand cupped around his jaw, drawing JC’s head against a warm shoulder covered by material that was soft and smelled very faintly of a familiar cologne. JC sagged against it, dazed as the kiss deepened and angled to allow a fuller exploration. Heat surged into his face and he shivered as sensation skittered through his body, weakness, breathlessness, a tension that was already beginning to tremble through his nerve endings. Helpless, he reached out to touch Justin’s face, sliding a hand along his jaw line and around the back of his head, pulling him closer. His heart was starting to pound heavily, and dimly he heard Justin whisper his name.

Justin pulled his mouth away and opened it on JC’s throat, making him gasp. His eyes flew open and focused on the ceiling of the cab of the jeep, still dark although the sky was lighter than it had been when he’d drifted off. The sound of the ocean was loud, along with the cries of seagulls. The events of the entire previous day came flooding back to him, and his hands flattened against Justin’s shoulders. Justin immediately slid his mouth back up to JC’s, patiently closing his lips over his, kissing him sweetly, tenderly, then moving to his cheek, the corner of his eye, and then to his ear where his tongue played a three-second dance that left JC shivering violently. "JC," Justin murmured against his lips. "Open your mouth."

"You shouldn’t," JC whispered inanely. "I’m contagious."

"Oh, now you tell me," Justin whispered back, his lips brushing against his, but then his mouth opened slowly, pulling a low moan from the back of JC’s throat and he was swept away just as surely and completely as if the ocean had swelled up over the board walk below and pulled him out to sea. Justin’s hand moved purposefully down JC’s chest, over his stomach and slowly, heavily over his groin as his mouth opened on his again. Shock pulsed as the last vestiges of sleep fled, and all the strength in his enervated body concentrated into one feeble attempt to resist, to preserve his sanity and gather his reason.

"JC," Justin soothed, his body somehow closer now, stretching half on and half beside JC’s, his warmth and weight mesmerizing. "Missed you so much," he whispered, his fingers seeking out the planes of JC’s body, stroking, reassuring, then sliding purposefully down the front of his sweats. The sound that caught in JC’s throat was something between a gasp and a whimper; there was an urgent, demanding pressure low in his abdomen, his breath was short, and there was no doubt that he was sinking fast. It was amazing how easily Justin could do this to him, he thought dimly.

"You make me crazy, you know that?" Justin muttered, his mouth warm at the base of JC’s throat and his hands moving purposefully to his waist, untying the drawstring of his sweat pants, reaching beneath him to move their bodies closer. There was a pinpointing ache between JC’s legs and Justin’s hand slid beneath the waistband to ease it without JC having to say a word. He clutched at Justin’s body, digging his fingers into his back and his ass, straining upward against Justin’s weight and twisting into his clever fingers. Oh god, oh god . . .

He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but there were faint voices over the sound of the surf, and the light was definitely brighter. "Justin," he whispered. "Justin, there’s people . . ."

"S’okay," Justin murmured, opening his mouth on the side of JC’s neck and doing something filthy with his tongue that made JC’s toes curl. His hips moved hypnotically and JC’s fingers tightened on his hips, sliding him closer. "S’okay, it’s still dark. JC, oh god . . ."

"We have to stop," JC hissed, although he couldn’t seem to let go of Justin’s body to save his own life. Justin made a desperate sound, hips swiveling slowly and perfectly against JC’s. "Justin," he tried again. "Don’t." It was hardly more than a breath as he tried to stop moving, tried to pull away, and failed utterly. "Stop."

Justin leaned back, his face flushed and eyes dark. He smiled dazedly at JC. "Um, did I hear you say don’t stop?" he whispered, and almost against his will JC snorted with laughter.

While he was still grinning Justin closed his mouth with another kiss. JC struggled for just a moment, just to the point where he became aware again of the softness of Justin’s lips beneath the stubble, the warmth he seemed to be pouring into him. And then he sighed, sliding his hands around Justin’s waist, moving under the hem of his shirt to find warm, smooth skin. Emotion choked him – it was Justin, Justin, who he hadn’t seen in so long it felt like it had been forever, and JC almost crushed him in the strength of his full-body hug. Justin grunted at the force of JC’s arms but adjusted his position in the ridiculously cramped passenger seat, sliding his tongue into JC’s mouth and working his hands under his body. Breathing hard, JC slid both hands down the back of Justin’s jeans and along the crease of his buttocks, drinking in Justin’s moan and the way he shivered in his arms. Their bodies slid into full contact and the delicious sensations spread inexorably through JC’s nerve endings, overwhelming him and catching the breath in his throat.

"We can be quick," Justin whispered hoarsely, his hips rolling perfectly and hypnotically, slowly gathering momentum.

JC couldn’t breathe. "Yeah?" he managed, and then hissed as one of Justin’s hands moved between their bodies.

"Oh yeah," Justin said. "Yes, oh, god, there, there . . ."

He was right; JC’s body informed him that this was going to take no time at all. Justin dropped his head to JC’s shoulder, his body moving fluidly and perfectly as his teeth sank deeply into the soft flesh of his shoulder. Wonderful, dizzying pleasure exploded, too fast, too hard, and JC grit his teeth against the sounds straining to burst out of his throat. He gripped Justin in his arms, his hands full of firm, soft skin and reveling in the tension of the long muscles. He was still shivering the last of it out when Justin froze and then jerked hard against, muffling his groan against JC’s skin. Slowly he felt Justin relax and go boneless against him. They were both breathing hard, and JC turned his head to nuzzle into Justin’s hairline, licking the damp skin behind his ear and biting his earlobe. Justin made a wordless and happy little noise and JC closed his eyes, reveling in the exquisite relaxation.

But the distant voices reminded JC that they were hardly private here. Untangling themselves was something of a challenge, further complicated by disheveled and confining clothing and the need for the pile of napkins JC hoped fervently were in Tyler’s glove compartment. It did a lot to dissipate the afterglow.

"Yuck," Justin said somewhat ruefully, applying a handful of napkins to the inside of his underwear.

"Yeah," JC said with some disgust as they cleaned themselves up. "That was real classy, Justin. I appreciated that a lot." He ignored Justin’s snort of laughter and sat up, blowing his nose again and taking a closer look around him.

They were in an empty parking lot across from a small marina filled with quietly bobbing boats. The horizon behind them was growing light, but ahead of them was still dark, with stars twinkling in the sky. JC frowned. He had absolutely no idea where they were.

Justin had reached around the seat and produced an olive drab green messenger bag, and was busily digging through it. JC turned his head and watched him narrowly. "I have to say, Justin, that this might be the worst surprise you’ve ever sprung on me."

"Just wait," Justin said, producing a folded piece of paper and looking intently at the handwritten instructions. "You’ll eat those words, JC. I promise."

JC was saved from responding by another sneeze, and while he was blowing his nose Justin exited the truck, admonished him to keep the doors locked, and disappeared toward what appeared to be the marina office.

JC watched him go and tried to summon the anger he’d been feeling toward Justin just a few short hours ago. He looked down at his sweat pants, flip flops, and t shirt, and reflected that he was hardly dressed for boating – not that that would be likely to make any difference to Justin. He peered through the windshield, watching as Justin emerged from the marina office with the proprietor and walked over to a medium-size outboard boat with bucket seats, a storage compartment, and a wind deflector. His eyes swiveled to the ignition, where Tyler’s key, devoid of its chain, sat. He could drive off and leave Justin here, he thought. It would teach him a lesson about high-handed vacation cancellations as well as sneaky kidnapping plans. There was nothing stopping him from doing it, was there? But instead JC sat in the passenger seat and watched Justin shake hands with the proprietor, toss a set of boat keys in the air, and walk back to Tyler’s jeep.

The sun was rising and it was shaping up to be a truly gorgeous day. Justin opened the passenger side of the jeep and grinned at JC, offering him a hand out of the vehicle like he was a lady wearing high heels. JC slapped his hand away and slid out, clutching his Target bag and wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. "I’m not dressed for boating," he said, sound incredibly grumpy even to his own ears. "And I have a cold."

"No problem," Justin said cheerfully. "You can wear my sweatshirt, and we’ll only be out on the water for a little while." He reached into the jeep for JC’s duffel bag, and touched JC’s arm to lead him down to the waiting boat.

The boat was bigger than it had looked from the parking lot, and Justin handed JC a thick hoodie sweatshirt before jumping in and stowing the duffel bag in the storage compartment. JC put any lurking doubts about Justin’s experience as a boatman aside with some trepidation, stalling by walking down the slip and examining the boat as Justin prepared to cast off. The name painted in blue and gold letters on the gleaming hull was Kate.

"Oh, nice touch," JC commented dryly.

Justin stepped over to the side of the boat and grinned up at him, holding out a hand to coax JC on board. "I really couldn’t resist, man."

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

Justin looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "Of course I know how," he said, offended. "You know I know how. You taught me how, JC."

"That was on a lake," JC reminded him. "Maybe you should let me . . ." but Justin was already shaking his head.

"No way," he said firmly. "No way, this is my surprise, I’ve made all these plans, and the whole point is to make you relaxed and happy. Don’t worry about me driving the boat. You just sit there, and be happy."

JC surprised them both by shutting his mouth and sitting down in the passenger seat. Justin seemed to have the boat under control, and the sea was calm and glistening. The morning was brightening quickly as the sun rose behind them. Justin had no sunglasses, and his eyes were narrowed bits of sparkling blue, and as they accelerated out of the marina the wind whipped his baseball cap off his head, sending it skittering dangerously close to the side. One hand rested on the throttle and his face was turned away from JC, into the sun. He looked so good, JC thought helplessly. Justin always looked so good to him, no matter how tired and pale and scruffy he was. And despite all the years they’d known each other, despite the tension and the sniping and disappointments of the last few weeks, there was something about being alone with Justin that made JC feel so at peace. His rueful sigh was lost in the wind as the boat pointed away from the shore.

Almost against his will JC relaxed into the passenger seat, out of the worst of the wind, and let the rising sun soak into his tired muscles. He was starving and exhausted and he wanted a shower more than anything in the entire world, but as the wind billowed playfully around his seat and warm air rushed by his face he closed his eyes and lifted his face into the sun, and wished he could capture just one small piece of the rage and resentment he’d felt for Justin the previous day.

He didn’t open his eyes again until the motor began to slow and then hummed into neutral as Justin tentatively guided the boat near a small island, following the curve of sandy shore toward what looked like a dock. JC’s admittedly sketchy seafaring abilities estimated the island was something less than a square mile in land mass, and when he looked over his shoulder he could just see the dark bulk of the mainland behind them. The presence of the dock was curious. "Is this a private island?" he shouted at Justin.

Justin killed the engine, and utter, unearthly silence was the only background for the slapping of the waves and the cracking of the rope as Justin slid the boat into the dock and scrambled to tie it off. His grin almost split his face in two. "It is," he said, obviously pleased with himself. "Utterly uninhabited." He grinned at JC, smug. "Except for us, of course."

JC rose and climbed carefully over the bow, jumping down onto the dock. "Is that a house up there?" he asked.

"Oh my, I think you’re right," Justin replied with mock surprise. "Well, that’s a lucky thing, isn’t it? I bet you thought I was going to make you sleep in a tent on the beach or something." He leaned over the boat to take something from the storage compartment. "Here comes the tricky part," he continued somewhat ruefully, and JC wondered why he should feel astonished when Justin pulled not just his duffel bag, but a medium sized burgundy suitcase that was clearly JC’s own, along with a battered black suitcase that could only belong to Justin.

Very smooth, JC thought, and he was proud of the way he kept his irritation under control. "And just how long," he asked calmly, "have you and Tyler been planning this?"

"Oh," Justin said airily. "Not long. Just since you stopped talking to me, really. He smiled at JC, coaxingly. "Tyler didn’t do much, C. He just packed a bag for you, and had it sent here." The smile grew. "I hope he didn’t forget anything.

For perhaps thirty seconds JC stared at him, all his myriad feelings of good will evaporating as his vision turning red at the edges with pure fury. After the way Justin had cavalierly canceled their post-tour vacation plans in Greece, the fact that he’d been so certain of his ability to get back in JC’s good graces galled him to no end. He’d already managed to turn JC’s emotions into confetti when the entire European continent had been between them, and with precious little effort on his part. This was simply too much. JC opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut, but Justin winced as if he’d shrieked at the top of his considerable lungs.

"Ooookay," Justin said quietly. He slung JC’s duffel bag over his shoulder, picked up JC’s suitcase, and turned to walk up the steps leading toward the house. JC sighed, picked up Justin’s suitcase, and followed. Justin turned and waited for him at the top of the hill.

"JC," he said, and for the first time he sounded weary. "I know this all seems like of, um, cocky and presumptuous right now . . ."

"Kind of? You think?" JC interrupted, and Justin held up his free hand.

"I know, I know. But, look," Justin continued simply. "I felt horrible about canceling Greece, and I’m so sorry about doing that. And I’m sorry about the tabloids, and the paparazzi, and the things that they say, and about Jive, and about everything that’s made you not happy with me lately. And I knew it would be hard to get you to listen to me, and it’s been so long since we had some time together." He paused, and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead in a gesture that made him seem younger than he was. "It’s just . . . I know we need some time, that’s all, and between your schedule and my schedule, I knew that this would be all we could get."

"And you didn’t want to waste it waiting for me to get over being mad," JC finished for him, and Justin looked at him in mute apology. JC turned away to look out over the view afforded by the front porch of the little beach house, and took a deep breath. Justin moved a little closer to him and reached out to touch his arm.

"JC," he said again. "I’m not saying that you weren’t, um, justified in being furious with me. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just that we’re both so busy, and we both travel so much, and we just . . . we need to do this, don’t you think? I mean, if we want to keep what we have, don’t you think we need some time?" He waited, seeming to almost hold his breath, and JC, staring at him, thought he’d never seen Justin look quite so tired.

"Yeah. Okay, yeah, you’re right," he replied slowly, carefully, but it didn’t feel like enough. "I do, Justin. I want to keep what we have too." He took a deep breath and felt better, easier, and for a moment Justin’s smile, brilliant and beautiful, was all he could see.

Justin turned away slowly, still smiling, and opened the door to the little house with a key on the same ring as the boat key. The dragged the luggage into a small foyer facing a large, cozily furnished room with two large picture windows looking out over the ocean, and a spacious kitchen to the right. Ahead of him Justin turned to the left, down a short hallway and into a large bedroom suite, with windows on two sides and huge, wrap-around deck. The view was nothing short of spectacular.

Silently JC set Justin’s suitcase in the corner of the room, toeing it out of the path to the door. When he stood up and turned around Justin was close behind him, right in his space, and when JC froze Justin leaned forward, very slowly, and brought his forehead to lean on his. JC was suddenly seeped in Justin -- the faint smell of his cologne, the feel of his skin, the color of his clear blue eyes. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Their noses touched and their lips were so close they almost brushed, but Justin did not kiss him. He merely continued to stare into his eyes with a soft, patient gravity and JC could do nothing but stare back, waiting. He had an almost irresistible urge to let his tongue slip out to slide across Justin’s lips; their faces were so close it would’ve been the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re not mad at me?" Justin almost whispered, his hands coming up to rest on JC’s hips, gently.

JC slowly shook his head, careful not to break the contact. "N-no," he said softly. "Not really." He was rewarded by the smile that dawned in Justin’s eyes, but then they moved down to focus on JC’s lips, and JC’s own smile melted away at the careful tilt of Justin’s head as his mouth slowly, slowly reached for JC’s.

The intense moment was broken by the ferocious and painfully audible growl of JC’s stomach, rumbling so loud it almost echoed in the quiet room. Justin froze a moment in surprise before leaning back and laughing.

"Shut up," JC said indignantly, although he was laughing too. "I haven’t eaten in forever." He paused, grinning as Justin continued to giggle helplessly. "Okay, I need to point out here that you’re not taking very good care of me, you know."

Justin was still laughing as he took JC’s hand and pulled him toward the kitchen. "Fair enough, he said. "Let’s find something to eat. The rental lady promised everything would be stocked up, so we won’t have to go back to the mainland for supplies."

JC tried to regain his equilibrium as he followed Justin through the little house and allowed himself to be settled on a bar stool at the counter. But when Justin filled a large kettle with water and placed it on the stove to heat, he commented suspiciously, "You’re not going to cook for me, are you?"

"You bet I am," said Justin, back to his usual confident self. "The rental lady said they’d leave fresh lobster, and that’s something even I can manage." He nodded toward the sink, where a large galvanized steel bucket apparently held their meal. "All you have to do is boil them."

JC felt his brow knit. "I thought you were supposed to steam them."

Justin hesitated, a look of concern crossing his face. "We may have just run into our first problem," he said.

JC got off his stool and went over to the sink, peering into the bucket. "Um, Justin. They’re alive, you know."

"Aren’t they supposed to be?"

"Well . . . I guess so." JC realized he’d never come face to face with a potential meal swimming about before, looking up at him with long, soulful antennae. "But aren’t you supposed to – oh man." He swallowed hard. "How do you, you know, kill them?"

"You don’t," Justin said, coming to stand beside him and peering into the bucket. "The rental lady said you just throw them into the boiling water and cook them."

JC’s eyes met Justin’s in horror, then slowly traveled back to the bucket. His hand pressed against his stomach. "Are you sure?"

Justin looked down at the lobster and seemed to lose some of his own confidence. "That’s what the rental lady said." He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Well, you’re hungry, and I’m hungry, and I promised myself the first thing I did would be to cook you a good meal. There’s no time like the present."

JC started to protest, but it didn’t matter. As soon as Justin had lifted the lobster out of the bucket he dropped it in again, muffling a curse and shaking his finger. "The little fucker bit me!"

JC stifled a laugh – score one for the lobster – but Justin was not amused. "Now you’ve done it," he warned the bucket of lobster as he opened a drawer and fished out a pair of tongs. "This is war."

JC moved a safe distance away and crossed his arms over his stomach to keep from bursting into loud laughter as Justin went about the serious business of catching and removing the lobster with the slippery tongs. But when at last the feat was accomplished and he lifted one lobster securely out of the bucket, JC’s laughter died. "Hey," he said, feeling slightly sick. "When you put them in the water, will they . . . um, die instantly? I mean, do they make noise, or thrash around?"

Justin looked at him for a long moment, then at the lobster squirming in the grip of the tongs. "Well, how hungry are you?" he asked.

"Not very," JC said thinly. "Not anymore."

Justin looked at the lobster with a mixture of pity and repulsion, then dropped it back into the bucket. "Yeah, me either."

They walked together through the back door of the cottage and down the steps to a long sandy beach, where Justin tipped the bucket into the tide. "Live long and prosper, little guys," JC said, and they stood for a moment to bid farewell to their meal.

"Just once," Justin said conversationally, "I’d like something to go according to plan." He cocked a rueful smile at JC. "How do you feel about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" he continued. "I know I can’t screw that up."

"I love peanut butter and jelly," JC said, moving a little closer to Justin and brushing the back of his hand with his.  "And you know, your plans aren't so bad, J."  He took a deep breath, smelling warm air and sunshine. It was utterly quiet except for the sound of the gentle waves slapping the sand, and JC felt something inside him that had been wound too tight for too long start to ease. He took another deep breath of the fresh salt air and closed his eyes.

When he opened them Justin was smiling at him, pale and unshaven and with dark circles under his eyes. JC remembered with a jolt that Justin had been up all night, driving, and that they both needed showers and a change of clothes, and a meal. But for the moment it meant everything to just stand in this peaceful, perfect place, and share it with the person who, despite everything, still meant more to JC than anyone else in the world.

"It’s good?" Justin asked quietly, and JC knew he was asking about more than the house, the beach, the island. "I mean, for now," he continued, his blue eyes searching JC’s face.

JC smiled at him, openly, letting him see everything he had inside. "It’s good," he said, wrapping his hand around Justin’s and lacing their fingers together. "It’s very good."

"Someday," Justin said quietly, bringing his other hand up to cradle JC’s between them, "there’ll be more for us. You know?"

"Yeah," JC said, the lump in this throat making more speech difficult. "I know. But for now, this is good. It’s better than good." And it was.

~ End