(I'm Not) Home For Christmas 1/2

[randomling]

This was my pinch-hit entry for JuC Swap 2008.

Summary: A bad night turns good when Justin is stranded with a stranger on the road.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF, sex.
Also: Epic amounts of thanks are due to llamabitchyo, for bunny-donation, hours' worth of hand-holding and cheerleading, and beta duties. Thank you also to vaudevilles for assuring me it didn't suck, and to ephemera_pop who provided the title (with help from the version of Pete Wentz that lives in her brain).

For jewelianna.

(I'm Not) Home For Christmas

One: Go With The Flow

After five minutes of yelling at the Greyhound official, Justin felt a little better. Not because the Greyhound official could do a damn thing about it – he couldn't – but because at least he'd managed to get rid of some of the bubbling rage. Even that wasn't a whole lot of help, though: he was still stuck in Chicago, in the freezing cold and the streaming snow, at twelve forty-five in the morning on the day before Christmas Eve, and the last bus to Pittsburgh was gone, baby, gone.

Shit.

He was trying to call Chris for the third time when he noticed the other guy. They were the last people in the bus terminal by now – just the two of them and the last of the Greyhound people – and at first he was just a figure over on the other side of the waiting area, hugging himself again the cold and peering at the bus timetable posted up on the wall. Long, dark coat, heavy boots, scarf wrapped around his neck, a bulging green holdall by his feet. A fellow traveller, then: Justin figured he could safely be ignored.

Chris's line rang a fifth time and went over to voicemail yet again. Justin flipped his phone closed, pocketed it, and sighed.

Bus terminals were depressing places at night. Well, okay; they were depressing places at the best of times, but in the middle of the night and the depths of winter, places like this were at their worst. The neon lights in the waiting area were sickly and anaemic, and outside, heavy snow was billowing through the dark sky; Justin felt a little trapped. Or maybe a lot trapped: he didn't think he had enough money for a motel room tonight, so he guessed he was hanging around the terminal until morning.

He kicked his bag along the floor until he reached a row of seats, sank into one, and pulled his wallet out of his coat pocket. As he flipped through the bills in his wallet, he was aware of the other guy moving from the timetable to the vending machine, dragging his holdall behind him.

Fifty-five bucks. And... three forty-six in change. Great; there was no way fifty-eight dollars was getting him into a motel. Or at least, not any motel that was worth paying any money for at all. He'd rather sleep on the street than in a forty-dollar-a-night roach pit, and in any case, he wasn't likely to find anything he could afford within striking distance of the bus terminal.

So, he guessed he was here 'til morning.

Justin sighed again, leaning back in his chair as he stuffed his wallet back into the pocket it had come from, staring up at the ceiling with its flickering lights. Seven hours until the morning bus. He wondered if there was somewhere nearby where he could pick up a magazine.

He was just reaching for his other pocket – the one with the music player in – when a voice said, "Hey there."

Justin turned his head and looked up. It was the same guy he'd seen at the timetable before: facing him now, standing in the middle of the waiting area, still with that huge bag at his feet. He wasn't sure for a second how to brush the guy off without being right-out rude, and he settled for a brief nod before turning his attention back to his music player. The headphone wires had gotten all tangled up in his pocket.

The guy's bag made a swishing noise as he pushed it across the floor towards Justin. Justin glanced up reflexively when the guy sat down a couple of seats away, just briefly, his hands still working on the headphones. The guy said, "How you doing?"

"Just great," Justin said before he could bite back the sarcasm.

There was a moment of silence. Then the guy said, "You missed your bus too, huh?" without even a hint that he'd taken offence.

Justin's hands fell still, and he blinked and looked up again. The guy had longish brown hair framing a face that was handsome, verging on pretty maybe, high cheekbones, strong jaw, blue eyes. "Yeah," Justin said.

"Where you headed?"

Well, that probably wasn't classified information. "Pittsburgh."

"Huh." The guy smiled vaguely. "I'm going to DC. That the same bus, isn't it?"

Justin thought it was - when he'd checked the timetable, all his buses had had Washington as their final destination. He nodded.

"Well, I'm JC," the guy said. He extended his hand. Justin looked at it, hoping he'd drop it after a second, but JC's hand stayed there, hovering in mid-air until Justin gave up, disentangled his fingers from the headphones, and took it.

"Justin," Justin said.

JC's smile became a grin, and he shook Justin's hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Pleased to meet you."

"You too," Justin said, rehearsed politeness taking over, and then his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Excuse me," he said, and let go of JC's hand to answer the phone.

It was Chris. "I'm not your mommy, kid, you don't need to call me every time you take a piss. Okay? It's two in the morning around here."

"Hey." Thankfully, Justin had enough experience with Chris not to take the bait and start defending himself. It was only a ploy to get him laughing, and Justin didn't feel so much like laughing right now. "There's ice on the freeway. I missed my bus."

"Oh," Chris said, "fuck. When's the next one?"

"Eight."

"Double fuck. You have money for a hotel, right?"

"I'll be fine," Justin said carefully.

That would have fooled his mother – maybe – but not Chris. "That's a no, huh?" There was a silence; Justin could hear Chris running through the options in his head, one after another. He opened his mouth and almost managed to interrupt before Chris said, "Want me to come get you?"

"No, man," Justin said. "Thanks, but I don't think you'd be here before the bus."

"Probably not," Chris said. He let out a little frustrated sigh. "I don't even know anyone around there, or I'd find someone you could crash with."

"It's okay, Chris."

"Put the hotel on your card, okay, and I'll cover it when you get here," Chris said after another quiet moment.

"All my cards are maxed," Justin said softly. When Chris didn't answer, he went on: "It's one night, I'll be okay."

"Don't freeze to death," Chris said sternly. "And call me when you get on the bus."

Justin smiled into the phone. "You're not my mommy, Chris."

"Ha." There was no humour in that sound. "I'm serious."

"I know. I'll call you in the morning."

"Good."

Justin took a deep breath and said, "Bye, Chris."

"Bye."

He hung up, and the cold bus terminal seemed just a little bit colder after that. He put his phone back in his pocket and turned to JC. JC said, "Friend of yours?"

"The guy I'm staying with in Pittsburgh," Justin said.

"Cool."

They were quiet after that, and Justin went back to untangling his headphones. He'd finally managed to get them fixed when JC said, "So, I guess you're here overnight?"

"Uh huh," Justin said.

"Yeah. Me too."

Justin nodded. He picked up the headphones, and draped the wires around his neck, but didn't put them in his ears. It would be really rude to do that while someone was talking to him – even if that person was a total stranger and he didn't really want to talk.

JC kept looking at him, though. It felt rude to stay silent, too, but Justin was stubborn, and really not in the mood. He let the silence stretch on, pointedly looking around the empty bus terminal until JC said, "Are you crashing somewhere?"

"Here, I guess," Justin said, gesturing vaguely around.

"Mm, yeah," JC said dejectedly, resting his chin in one hand.

Justin smiled wryly. "I guess we have that in common."

"Guess we do."

"I have, like, fifty bucks cash," JC said.

"Yeah, I hear ya," Justin said. "I have fifty-eight. Still not enough for a motel around here."

JC nodded, and was quiet a long time. Justin fiddled with his music player, flicking through the track listing and wondering what to listen to. Then, eventually, JC said, "A hundred and eight might be. Like, enough for a double."

Justin turned to look at him.

"If you'd be up for that? I know, I'm a total stranger and stuff."

Justin said, "Look, no offence..."

"No, no." JC slumped back in his seat and stared at the ceiling.

"It's not that you don't seem like a nice guy," Justin said hurriedly. It had occurred to him that, even sharing with a stranger, in a motel room he'd at least be warm for a few hours, not sitting here freezing his ass off and worrying if someone was going to steal his luggage. And JC was a strikingly attractive stranger, which was sort of cool, but also sort of worse.

"Thanks," JC said.

It really might be enough for a motel room. Justin took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. "A hundred and eight bucks?"

***

"So your folks live in Pittsburgh?" JC asked.

Justin looked up from counting their money and said, "Uh-uh. Near Memphis."

They'd migrated to an all-night diner across the street from the bus terminal, where there was coffee and a half-empty rack of tourist brochures by the door. JC had grabbed a handful and was slowly working through them, trying to figure out what they could afford while Justin counted their pooled cash. JC had handed over about five bucks in change as well as five crisp ten-dollar bills.

Handed all his money over without a second thought, trusting Justin completely.

"Won't that be a bitch? Getting to Memphis from Pittsburgh?" JC frowned. "I was sure you could go direct to Memphis from here."

Justin didn't look up this time. "I'm not going to my folks' for the holidays. I'm staying with a friend in Pennsylvania."

"Oh."

JC didn't say anything for a few seconds, and Justin wondered if that last comment had sounded rude. He finished counting up the change before dealing with that: one-hundred-and-thirteen eighty in total. That was maybe enough for some food to go with their coffees, assuming they could find a motel that they could afford at all.

"So, what did you find?" he asked JC.

"Yeah," JC said. "Uh, hundred-sixty, Holiday Inn's a no..."

Justin winced. Maybe a couple of years from now. "Damn right."

"Oh, here's one. Buena Vista Court... sixty-five a night for a double?" Justin looked up hopefully. "Oh, wait - I have no idea where that is."

"Hold on, I have a city map somewhere."

It turned out that he'd put the map in his holdall in the frenzy of last-minute packing. It took him a good couple of minutes to dig it out, and in the interval a scrawny redheaded waitress delivered their coffees and told them to have a nice night, chewing gum loudly all the while.

When Justin had waited tables in college, he was pretty sure that hadn't been allowed.

By the time she was gone, Justin had found the map and spread across the table, holding it down with the coffee mugs on opposing corners, and they pored over it together, tracing streets with their fingers. JC finally found it with a triumphant, "Aha!"

"Got it?" Justin said, and JC repeated the street address victoriously. Justin checked it on the brochure and the map. "Awesome. So, we're here... West Harrison, and they're right on 290... that's what. A five, ten-minute drive?"

"Something like that," JC agreed. "So, sixty-five, plus we set aside something like thirty bucks for cabs? We could maybe afford that."

"I think we could." Justin grinned, relieved, and JC grinned back, taking a sip of his coffee. "Thank God."

"Thank God is right," JC said. "So we have a little money left over, huh? Wanna share some fries?"

Justin grabbed the menu, still grinning. "Yeah. I'm starving."

***

It turned out that JC wasn't actually from Washington, but from some town in Maryland whose name Justin couldn't seem to keep straight - Jagger or Daltry or something like it. It was after one in the morning, that was his excuse. Justin munched his half of the fries - he really was starving - and discovered that by asking a few careful questions he could get JC to talk and talk and talk.

He didn't mind that; saved him answering the questions that would otherwise come back on him.

JC was a dance instructor back in Madison, Wisconsin, and he was only making the cross-country trip this late because the kids he taught had given their Christmas recital the night before. Justin bit back a smile, because he'd known JC less than half an hour, and he could somehow imagine the guy shepherding energetic six-year-olds for a living. He had the kind of calm, easygoing, friendly exterior that was required - and, Justin wouldn't be surprised to find out, the iron will, too, when necessary. There was something unshakeable about him.

"So," JC said eventually, "that's just about my life in a nutshell." They'd covered the dance instruction and the retail job JC worked on the side to make ends meet, the much-loved-but-clearly-nuts roommate with the space obsession and the increasingly bizarre series of pets, and the half-written musical. Justin felt he was pretty much up to date. "What about you? What do you do for a living?"

Justin froze with a fry halfway to his mouth. "Um..."

"No, wait," JC said suddenly, smiling, "lemme guess."

"Um," Justin said, "okay."

"Okay, cool. Uh..." JC went for another fry and pretended, theatrically, to think about it. Justin frowned at him, somewhere between bewildered and amused, wondering what in the hell he was going to come up with. Justin was quickly coming to the conclusion that JC was a freak. A nice freak - like Chris - but a freak.

There was a little pause. Then JC said, "You're an accountant," and pinned Justin with his laser-like blue eyes. Justin opened his mouth to curse, because that was spot-fucking-on, and decided not to give JC the satisfaction. Quite yet.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, trying to keep his face neutral.

"Okay," JC said, gesturing expansively with the fry, "you're all organized, you had that map, I bet you have a list of emergency phone numbers in your wallet." Strike one. The numbers were in Justin's diary, because what if the emergency was that his wallet was stolen? "And you're real good with the money, counted it all up in a flash, you know exactly how much we spent in here and we didn't even get the check yet." Well; when your budget was limited, that was just sense. "Plus... you're kind of buttoned-up, you know?"

Strike two, dammit. "I'm not buttoned-up!"

"Dude," JC said, "you kinda are."

"I am not."

"Hey, it's not an insult, cat," JC said in a placating voice, "just an observation. It's like - I can see that you plan a lot, you like to be in control of shit, you know, you get all uptight when things don't go your way. Like tonight. Right?"

"Right," Justin said. No denying; he'd been pretty mad tonight after all the screw-ups with the buses. Who wouldn't be?

"I'm not like that," JC said. "I don't get so stressed out, because it's all an opportunity - I mean, tonight turned out kind of cool."

"Sharing a basket of fries with a total stranger?"

"Yeah," JC said, breaking into a grin. "I got to meet someone new, see some of Chicago, and the coffee's pretty good."

Justin stared at him for what seemed like a very long time. JC really was a freak.

"You're not seeing the cool here, I can tell." JC's grin hadn't faded one bit; he didn't seem fazed at all, even though it must be obvious that Justin thought he was crazy.

Justin shook his head, then caught himself. He was being rude again. "Not that I don't..."

JC waved his hand, cutting Justin off. "I'm a nice guy, whatever. Look it's like this... I'm gay, right?" Justin blinked rapidly. It was that easy, apparently. "And you're hot, so if I'd run into you in a club, instead of trying to catch a bus, I'd probably be hitting on you right now."

Huh. Justin was staring at JC again, but maybe a bit less because he thought JC was crazy.

"And that's not... that's not to say that I'm gonna hit on you tonight, because that'd probably make you uncomfortable, and I don't wanna do that, no way. But - I like to be spontaneous. Go with the flow. And it's like, if you're in a club and you see a hot a girl, what do you do? Ignore her?"

"Um," Justin said, because apparently JC was expecting some kind of response, and he didn't have one. "Uh, I'm maybe not so much into girls, myself."

JC smiled again. "What are the odds of that," he said softly, and Justin had to bite his lip to stop himself from rattling them off: nine to one. The numbers so weren't the point. "So, hot guy in a club, what do you do?"

Justin considered it. It wasn't, honestly, a situation he'd ever really been in. He'd been with Curtis almost the whole time he'd been out - almost from the first day he'd gotten it figured out - and after they'd broken up, he hadn't, well. It just hadn't been an issue, was all. "I guess, I'd maybe try to get his number?"

JC smiled. Justin thought he'd probably die of embarrassment if JC said that was sweet. Thankfully, JC spared him: "See, I'd be trying to get you up against a wall."

"Um. Okay."

Justin looked down at the scratched surface of the table, cheeks burning, because maybe he was going to die of embarrassment after all. He'd had sex - he and Curtis had had quite a lot of sex - and he wasn't a prude - he wasn't, no matter what Chris said. But he didn't do sex with strangers, and he sure didn't talk about sex with strangers, and here was this guy he didn't know, talking about pushing Justin up against a wall.

And it was. Yeah, he was feeling kind of hot.

"Oh, I have made you uncomfortable," JC said. "I'm sorry, man, I get talking and I just don't stop. I really should've left that one alone."

"No," Justin said, "it's fine." But he still couldn't look JC in the eye; in fact, he was looking everywhere but directly at JC, out the window, across the diner, over at the mostly-empty basket of fries. JC had one hand in the basket, fiddling laconically with a fry he was holding between two fingers.

JC had really pretty hands.

"You sure?" JC said.

"Absolutely." Justin managed to keep his eyes off of JC a little longer by grabbing his mug and swilling back the last of his coffee, even though it was cold and therefore gross. He put the mug firmly back down on the table and, see, he could look at JC without blushing. No problem.

Justin took a deep breath. "You ready to get out of here?"

***

They came in under-budget on the cab ride - only ten dollars for a journey that took six-and-a-half minutes by Justin's watch. JC was silent for all of it, looking out of the window instead of at Justin. It wasn't until the cab was gone and they were standing on the snowy sidewalk in front of the motel that Justin said, "You okay?"

"I'm just a little embarrassed," JC said. "I really shouldn't have said all that stuff to you before."

"Don't sweat it." Justin hefted his bag onto his shoulder. "Let's get inside, it's cold."

Inside, Buena Vista Court didn't look very Spanish. The lobby was poorly lit, a single bare bulb hanging over the check-in desk, and a half-dead potted plant stood by the door. Justin almost tripped over it walking in, and then, staggering sideways, almost sent JC flying. JC caught his shoulder with one hand, saying, "Hey, you all right?"

"Yeah, it's just dark in here."

"Mm."

Justin set his bag on the floor and walked to the check-in desk while JC hovered behind him. Nobody was there, but there was a bell sitting on the desk. Justin rang it twice, then a third time, before a balding middle-aged guy shuffled out from somewhere in back. It was almost one-thirty now, so Justin put on his politest face. "Hi."

"Whadda you want?"

"Could we get a double room for tonight, please?"

The man glanced down at something behind the desk - a list, maybe - and said, "Nope. Booked out."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They should have called ahead. Justin glanced back at JC, who gave him a shrug and helpless look. Past JC all he could see was the pink glow of the Vacancy sign and then the freeway, and... Hold on. They still had their Vacancy sign on. Justin turned back to the desk.

"Don't you have anything we could use?"

The guy looked up at him. "One-oh-four's free. But it ain't a double."

"We'll take whatever," Justin said.

"It's one king," the guy said. "That okay?"

Justin glanced back at JC again, and JC shrugged.

"Sure," Justin said.

"Sixty dollars," the man said, slapping the keycard down on the desk by Justin's hand.

Justin counted out JC's crisp tens and two of his own battered fives and grabbed the key. The check-in guy's grubby fingers had snatched up the money before Justin even turned away.

***

Room 104 was around back, which at least meant they weren't right on the freeway. Instead, it looked out over the parking lot and, specifically, a dumpster.

"It's almost colder than outside," JC said when they'd gotten themselves and their bags into the room. There wasn't a hell of a lot of floor space, but hey, they could fit their bags, and that was all that mattered. There was even a crappy little space heater by the door.

Justin turned it on and way, way up while JC improvised tea with the coffee maker and some herbal teabags that he produced, like magic, from his coat pocket. When the heater was on, Justin sat on the bed and shed his coat, gloves and shoes, then fell backwards and let out a sigh up at the ceiling. A minute later, JC sat next to him on the bed and handed him a cup.

Justin sat up to take it. "Thanks," he said. "You have your own teabags?"

"I like this tea," JC said, smiling sheepishly.

"So that part's not so spontaneous," Justin said. He sniffed it; it was still too hot to drink but it smelled really good. "Mm, that's nice."

"Yeah, I like to have it around. It's a comfort thing."

Justin just nodded, warming his hands around the cup. He was still freezing cold; JC's face looked almost red-raw with it. He could understand having comfort stuff around. Like his favourite sneakers, the watch his momma bought him, Chris on speed-dial.

"So I'll take the floor," JC said.

"What? No, don't be silly, we can share the bed."

"You're sure that won't be like, uncomfortable for you? I don't wanna freak you out."

"It's cool," Justin said, "it really is. I'm sure we can be adults about this."

JC smiled. "I'm sure we can too."

Justin watched as JC dipped his head and took a little sip of his tea. He was wondering what an adult would actually do about this. He was twenty-three, which was pretty damn adult, technically speaking, but it still seemed like that needed figuring out. What would a real adult do about the cute stranger who was going to be sharing his goddamn bed tonight?

Justin sipped his tea and watched JC and thought about it. JC had a really nice mouth, full but not too full, and Justin kind of wanted to know how it would feel to kiss it. Pretty good, he'd bet.

"So," JC said after a while, "what do you do for a living? You never said."

Justin raised his eyebrows. "I didn't? You were right, I'm an accountant."

"No way!" JC said, laughing. "I thought for sure I'd gotten that wrong."

"Spot on," Justin said.

"So do you cook the books for anyone interesting?"

"Ha," Justin said, "no. I work for a gift store in St. Paul."

"I'd ask if they pay good money, but you're in the same boat as me, so..." JC smiled.

"Yeah, not so much."

JC took a sip of his tea and looked up at the ceiling. "I thought accountants were all, like, Armani suits and Rolexes, man."

"Yeah," Justin said, "maybe some day. But I just graduated last year, so, not for a while."

"You're only, what, twenty-four?"

"Twenty-three."

"You look older." JC blinked. "Um, in the good way."

"Right," Justin said, smiling.

They sat there in silence for a while, and Justin looked around the room while he finished his tea. It was pretty much a motel room, cramped, ugly decor, but at least it seemed reasonably clean. Justin wasn't going to inspect anything too closely, though; he wanted to be able to sleep tonight. Although he had the vague feeling that might be a problem anyway.

By the time he was done with his tea, the space heater was doing its job and the room was warming up nicely. JC was finished too, so Justin took JC's cup and put it with his on the little table with the coffee maker. Behind him, JC flopped back onto the bed.

"It's finally warming up," JC said.

"Yeah."

It was dark outside, and the view of the dumpster really wasn't that appealing. Justin went over to the window and shut the thin drapes - ugly again - before sitting down next to JC on the bed. He lay down, and after no more than a second, there was a sharp buzzing sound from the direction of Justin's stuff, and then another. He sat up.

"Dude," JC said lazily, "your coat is vibrating."

Justin dove for it and pulled his phone out of the pocket. Chris. "Hey."

"Hey," Chris said, and there was a moment of silence.

"What's up?" Justin said.

"Justin, it's almost three in the morning and I'm worried sick. Tell me you're safe, okay?"

"Oh." Justin gaped like a fish for a moment, embarrassed, because he was fine and he hadn't even thought to call. "I. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm fine. I like, met this guy at the bus terminal and we've gotten a motel room together." There was a silence, into which Chris was going to make a smart comment, any second, so Justin went on. "It's not as weird as it sounds, okay?"

"Really? Because it sounds like you just picked up a stranger there, kid."

"Hey - no. It's nothing like that. We just, we couldn't each afford a room, but we could afford to share." No need to mention they were sharing a bed; that would only lead to endless teasing, and Chris managed that fine without extra material.

Chris breathed out. "He have any strange weapons?"

"He doesn't have any weapons at all," Justin said, and if JC hadn't been sitting right there, Justin would maybe - maybe - have made a comment about checking in his pants. That would have made Chris laugh. Instead he said, "He has teabags."

"Oh. Well, if he has teabags, he's probably harmless." There was a tiny pause. "Are they poison?"

Justin laughed. "He's fine, Chris. I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Call me when you get on the bus."

"Sure will. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Yup." And with that, Chris hung up. Justin smiled at the phone before stuffing it back into his coat pocket.

When Justin turned around, JC was still stretched out on the bed, hands folded on his stomach, looking totally relaxed. "So that was Pittsburgh dude?"

"Yeah," Justin said, parking himself on the floor by his stuff. "Last he heard I was spending the night at the bus terminal, he was worried."

JC nodded. "His name's Chris?"

"Yeah."

"And he's your boyfriend?" JC asked after a little pause.

"No!" Justin said. "No, no, just a really good friend."

"Oh. I figured, since you were spending the holidays with him..."

Justin shook his head. "I don't have a boyfriend. Chris and I have been friends since forever. And I kind of had a... my folks aren't so crazy about the whole gay thing, and Chris invited me, so I figured it was best."

JC sat up. "Hey," he said, "that kind of sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Justin said. "They'll come around. I hope. Chris says they probably will, and he's usually right." He sighed. "Anyway, he's been really good to me with this whole thing."

"Sounds like a good friend."

"He's the best," Justin said fervently. "And he's so... He's like - the first time he met my ex, right. Curtis is like, six foot, huge black guy, muscles everywhere. And Chris is five-six, skinny little fucker, nothin' to him, and the first time he meets Curtis, he's like, you hurt my boy, I'm gonna kill you." Justin laughed, shaking his head. "He meant it, too. I'm still scared that some day Chris is gonna show up at his apartment with a fucking baseball bat."

He'd expected JC to laugh, but he frowned. "He hurt you? This Curtis guy?"

"Not like... not physically. He - you know. He fucked somebody else."

"Right."

"I'm over it, it's fine. This was, like, September."

JC slid off the bed in one long, fluid movement to sit cross-legged on the floor near Justin. "So, that's a pretty depressing topic. It's Christmas, let's talk about something fun."

Justin smiled, crossing his own legs to make room for JC among all their stuff. JC was smiling too, but it seemed like neither of them could think of much to say, just smiling at each other like a pair of idiots. Eventually, Justin shook his head and looked away.

"Okay, fine," he said, "now I'm trying to think of something." JC leaned back against the foot of the bed, folded his hands behind his head, and smiled a catlike smile. Like he was waiting to be entertained. "So I'm gonna tell you this story about Chris."

"Okay," JC said.

"It's from when I was like, seventeen, back when we lived in Orlando, that's where I met Chris. So that year, Chris is stuck in town for Thanksgiving, 'cause he's working, so my mom invites him over for dinner. And we're all sitting around the dinner table and my mom says, that when I was eight, I wanted a pony for my birthday."

JC snickered a little. "A pony?"

"I was eight," Justin said, smiling, because he'd learned to withstand teasing on the subject after long years of practice with Chris. "Shut up. Anyway, so my mom tells Chris that I wanted a pony for my birthday when I was eight, and then I was all disappointed because she didn't get me one. I forget why she was talking about it, Chris probably said I was a spoiled brat or something."

JC grinned. "Go on."

"All right. So that Christmas, Chris keeps telling me he has this special Christmas gift for me. And I'm like, what the hell, he never even gets me a gift, so why's he starting now. And Chris just keeps saying he's got a special gift for me." He took a deep breath. "So I go shopping, 'cause I usually don't get him a gift either - and I like, spend hours in the store agonizing over what to give him, and I have no idea now what I even gave him. It was probably, like aftershave or something, I was imaginative as a kid." JC snorted. "And so, a couple of days before Christmas, Chris drives back up to Pennsylvania for the holidays, and we exchange gifts, and he's all solemn, you know, you must not open this until Christmas Day..."

Justin shook his head, smiling at the memory. "...and so on Christmas morning we're all opening our gifts, and I get to Chris's and I just burst out laughing because..." JC's brow creased, but he was grinning hugely, blue eyes shining. "He bought me a My Little Pony."

JC started to laugh.

"Like, the pinkest, glitteriest one he could find, with flowers on its butt."

JC doubled over, covering his face, and Justin started to laugh too. JC kept laughing and laughing, slumping over on one side and shaking with it, holding his stomach, his head knocking against Justin's bag. Justin was still laughing too, but JC was absolutely helpless, a quivering heap on the floor. Justin lay down near him, still giggling, and reached out with one hand. His fingers closed around JC's arm and Justin held on as they laughed together. JC didn't seem to notice until he'd stopped laughing a good two minutes later. Then, still getting his breath, he glanced down at his arm and Justin's hand.

JC sucked in a deep breath, held it for a long moment, and carefully let it out again. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Justin said, and kissed him.

It was a little bit awkward, because JC was at arm's length and Justin had to lean forward a lot to get at JC's mouth, but JC kissed back and his lips were just as wet and smooth and fantastic as Justin had expected them to be. Even if JC was going to push him away and sleep on the floor after all, it would be worth it for this one kiss, all slippery pleasure and flickering tongue. Justin only felt nervous once it was over, and JC was pulling back to look him very seriously in the eye.

"So, uh," JC said, "that was kind of... spontaneous."

"Yeah. Figured I'd try it out." Justin swallowed and tried to look attractive; not that easy when he was sprawled out all over the floor with their luggage and coats and shoes like an obstacle course. "What do you think?"

"I think I'd like to," JC said. "Be spontaneous." And after another second: "C'mere."

***

A couple of minutes later, they were sitting on the edge of the bed again, and Justin was savouring the transition from idle kissing to making out. JC had one hand splayed on Justin's lower back, the other holding Justin's waist, and Justin's hands were on JC's shoulders. He was thinking seriously about shifting a hand up to mess with JC's hair; it looked so soft.

JC's tongue was wicked and firm and wet, and Justin had already decided that being spontaneous was definitely, definitely a good idea. His cock was starting to stir in his pants - not quite hard yet, but tingling with the anticipation of getting there.

He'd only had sex with the one guy before, and that had been Curtis. Curtis was... well, Curtis was different from this, different from JC; making out with him had been a lot faster and harder and rougher. Justin liked this, the gentleness, JC's slow and thoughtful touch. Liked it better, maybe. Better than his first.

His hand did slide up into JC's hair after a while, and shortly after that JC rolled Justin onto his back - not pushing, not forcing him, just rolling him down. JC rolled on top of him a second after, and then Justin really was hard, and there was only glancing friction, JC on his hands and knees and leaning down to kiss, Justin arching his back, pushing up with his hips, trying to feel, to figure out if JC was hard too.

Mmm. He was.

Justin managed to find that out as JC's body started to sink lower over him, and their bodies brushed together more often, more firmly, until JC's erection was a constant presence against Justin's lower stomach. Justin slid one hand down JC's back to hold him close, and JC shifted and kissed Justin's mouth, did it again, then dropped a series of feather-light kisses along Justin's jaw. Justin closed his eyes and tipped his head back as JC's mouth moved downward, kissing and licking under his chin, down to his throat, light and slow. Yeah; this was better, so much better.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, trading kisses and caresses as they both got slowly harder. For a while Justin thought he might be perfectly content to keep doing just this all night, holding and touching and nuzzling and making little noises of enjoyment against each other's skin, and then everything changed in an instant; he didn't even remember it building. Suddenly he was harder than he could take, urgent and desperate, pawing hungrily at JC's clothes so he could touch bare skin.

The disadvantage of the cold was that they were both wearing way too many clothes: sweaters over button-down shirts, T-shirts underneath, thick socks, heavy jeans with big buttons that were hard to work under Justin's clumsy fingers. It took way too long, and Justin felt like shouting for joy when they were finally both naked, except that JC's body was suddenly pressed all over his and he was far too busy for anything but touching JC. Touching him everywhere; feeling where his skin was smooth and where hairs sprouted; finding which parts were flesh, which were muscle, which bone. If this was only going to be one night, he wanted to see everything, touch everything, know everything. The total experience.

JC kissed his mouth, deep and hard and lewd, pushing and sliding their tongues together, and running one palm firmly down Justin's chest and stomach when he arched delightedly in response. Justin moaned into JC's mouth when JC's hand took hold of his cock, and moaned again when JC squeezed and then rubbed. It felt glorious. He skimmed his own fingers down over JC's ass and then up again, across JC's thigh to the curve of his hipbone, then down. Through coarse pubic hair and finally onto the soft-soft-soft skin of JC's cock. JC broke the kiss to whisper, "Jesus."

Then he groaned and pumped his hips as Justin started to move his hand, one slow tease after another, because, yeah, Justin wanted this to last. JC was touching him in a rhythm too, nice and slow, and Justin shivered happily, leaning up slightly to nuzzle JC's shoulder. JC's tongue was slithering over his neck, and Justin closed his eyes again so he could just feel.

What he felt was langorous and sexy and pleasantly buzzed all over his skin, warm and a little breathless, faintly ticklish in all the right places. It seemed like they'd been doing this forever, and at the same time not nearly long enough, when JC suddenly broke the rhythm and lifted his head from where he had been nuzzling Justin's shoulder. "Hey," JC said, and he sounded a little breathless too. Justin stilled his hand against JC's cock, and JC let out a little sigh.

"Hey," Justin said, moving his hips just slightly, just enough for a tiny bit of friction against JC's hand.

"So, I was thinking," JC said. He mirrored Justin's hip movement and smiled. "Do you maybe wanna fuck?"

Justin's little gasp could have been motivated by a slight movement of JC's hand, or could have been motivated by the thought of them fucking, he wasn't sure. What he said was, "Um..."

It had taken a month before he'd let Curtis fuck him; a month after they'd touched and sucked and rimmed and done everything else under the sun. A whole month. And he'd loved Curtis, or so he'd thought at the time, trusted him completely. Still. A month, that's how long it took.

JC reached up and traced two fingers down Justin's cheek, gently. "It's okay," he said. He was still holding Justin's cock loosely with his other hand. "We can keep doing this, if you want. This is great." He slid his hand down Justin's cock and brushed his thumb lightly over the head, smiling.

"Mmmm," Justin said, straining up against JC's hand. He was thinking about it now, the fucking, getting fucked, and that gaspy urgent feeling was creeping back. Bothering him. "Mmmm. No, um, mmm, JC, stop, stop a minute, stop."

JC's hand slid from Justin's cock to his hip, which was quite a lot more stopping than Justin actually wanted.

"I think. Yes. I want to."

"Don't do it just 'cause I want," JC said. He rubbed his thumb across Justin's lips. On impulse, Justin stuck his tongue out and licked it, and JC laughed. His whole body shook with it, just briefly, and that felt really good. Justin suddenly wanted to lie here forever, naked, underneath JC, finding new ways to make him laugh. Then JC stopped laughing and said, "Really. Only if it's what you wanna do. Being spontaneous is no fun if you're like, pushed into stuff you don't wanna do."

"But this is stuff I do wanna do," Justin said stubbornly, and leaned up to prove the point. He moved both hands to the back of JC's head and kissed him open-mouthed, holding JC in place until he was satisfied that JC had gotten his full meaning.

JC was panting hard when they finally broke apart. "That's a pretty firm yes," he said breathlessly.

"Uh huh," Justin said.

"Um, lemme grab the stuff."

JC slid off of Justin and stood up, leaving Justin feeling lonely and a bit cold, even though the room was nice and warm now. He was consoled by a nice back view of JC, though, as he crouched over his holdall, the long, beautiful curve of his spine, all the way down to his lovely ass. Justin admired the view for as long as JC was hunting through the bag, and then he got up and turned around, and the front view was even better. Muscular arms and chest, narrow hips, firm thighs, and his cock, hard and glorious, the head glistening with a little moisture. He wanted to taste it, feel it fill his mouth, feel JC's response, sound and motion.

JC made to step back towards the bed. Justin surged to his feet suddenly. "Stay there a minute," he said.

"Huh?"

Justin stood up in front of JC, smiling, and dropped quickly to his knees. He glanced up at JC's face for just a half-second, and JC's mouth had fallen open in surprise and, Justin thought, delight. When he sucked JC into his mouth, JC made a sound that was part grunt, part moan, all excitement.

Justin didn't want to get JC off, not yet, so he swallowed JC all the way down just once, swirled his tongue around the base, and moved his head a couple of times before pulling off and looking up at JC's face again. JC was still slack-jawed, his eyes a little glazed over, and Justin beamed up at him before getting back on his feet.

"Oh," JC panted, "baby."

Justin was still beaming when JC kissed him, and together they stumbled back onto the bed. Justin collapsed under JC again, still kissing him passionately, and underneath JC was quickly becoming his new favourite place to be. He wrapped his arms around JC and there were several long, happy moments of kissing and squirming and moaning before JC said, "Okay."

"Okay," Justin said.

JC had been holding a big cloth washbag when he'd stood up, and now it was lying abandoned on the bed. JC rolled onto his back and reached for it, and once it was in JC's hands the two of them moved up the bed until their heads were on the pillows.

JC opened the bag - it had a zipper - and dipped his hand in. He pulled out an unopened three-pack of condoms and a little tube of Liquid Silk, maybe a quarter used. He rolled to put the washbag on the nightstand, then looked back to Justin. "So," he said, "you wanna top or bottom?"

Justin was starting to hate how he compared everything to his ex, but it hadn't even been a question with Curtis. Curtis didn't get fucked, so Justin had never topped, never fucked anyone - not even when he'd been really trying to like girls. Never fucked a guy. Never really even thought about it.

Some time, he'd do that. Not tonight.

"Bottom," Justin said decisively.

JC grinned like that was the right answer, and Justin grinned back. "Totally sure?"

"Yeah," Justin said. "Fuck me, man." He paused for a second, looking JC up and down, anticipating. "Fuck me good."

"Mmmm," JC said.

JC kissed him, and kissed him and kissed him, and Justin took the condom package out of JC's hand and broke into it as they kissed, extracted a condom, then made JC stop while he concentrated on getting the condom out of its wrapper without tearing it. Gently, he unrolled the condom over JC's cock, then lay back and hooked his legs over JC's shoulders and let JC go to work, first with one lubed-up finger, then two, then three. By the time JC's cock was pushing slowly inside him, Justin felt open and hot and desperately turned on.

JC's movements burned like a long, long fuse inside of him, drawing out little heated moans one after another, making him pour sweat and not care. He clamped his hands around JC's waist, and JC was sweating too, slick and hot, grunting as he thrust. It felt so good, pleasure flooding his body and flowing out of him everywhere it could. He didn't ever, ever want this to stop.

God, but JC was good; he'd hit just the right pace somehow, found a rhythm that satisfied every aching sweet spot in Justin's body, making the excitement jab right up inside him until it started to fizz. He was already rocking his hips, pushing back against that perfect rhythm, but the fizzing made him start to buck and shout, and JC's hand slipped down to his cock at the ideal moment, a maddening counterpoint to JC's solid thrusts, and Justin spasmed hard, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to hold on. JC cried out, jerking forward suddenly, and they were going to come together, voices rising in unison, a single climax that belonged to both of them.

In the end, JC held out just a few seconds longer than Justin, but that didn't make it any less wonderful, and Justin's orgasm when it came was a sharp moment of spilling release followed by the sudden plunge into an ocean of warm relaxation. He was letting out a shuddering sigh of joy when JC came, his hands stroking JC's sides, and there was the usual weird sliding feeling as JC pulled out, but that was all. JC slid out from between Justin's legs, and Justin lay there, dazed with bliss as JC dealt with the condom and then rolled back towards Justin, hooking one hand over Justin's stomach and nuzzling his shoulder contentedly.

"Mmm," JC said, a low, sleepy sound.

"Yeah," Justin said, and that didn't sound emphatic enough. He added, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Mmm," JC said again. "Exactly. Exactly."

"We should," Justin said fuzzily. "The alarm. We don't wanna miss the uh. The bus."

"Definitely not."

Justin managed to stay awake exactly long enough to set the alarm for six-thirty, then collapsed against JC and drifted into sated, happy, marvellous sleep.

Part Two