foxmonkey: Robot Snowman with Flowers (Default)
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Last one in honor of JC's birthday. :-)

More (another) girl!JC fic, written a number of years ago. Previously untitled; because Chris' elf/leprechaunishness is once again the instigating factor in the change -- and it's set around Chris' birthday, like the last one -- I've titled it 'Another October' even though the two stories have nothing to do with each other. Except for the things that are similar. :-D

Yet another offering to the Gods of Cleaning Up One's Harddrive by posting fic that will most likely never be finished. Unbeta'd, but it's been cleaned up a bit and tweaked for public consumption, but rough in spots. WARNING: No proper ending. Perhaps I'll craft one someday and add it on. Shorter than the first, but still enjoyable, I think.



Another October
by foxmonkey


Justin loved airplanes. He loved that he could be on one side of the world and then *POW!* like magic, a few hours later, he'd be on the other side of the world. It was a modern miracle that he took for granted when he was sober, but when drunk, it was enough to move him to tears.

He looked around JC's living room, amazed once again that he was here. Hours before he'd been in New York, but now he was rolling around on JC's carpeted floor, getting trashed on some fruit-based concoction JC had whipped up. He stared hard at the drink in his hand, trying to focus. "Planes, man," he said, and dabbed at his eyes. He crossed his eyes and squinted, even though JC was on the floor beside him, only a couple of feet away.

"I know," JC said wisely, nodding. "Planes are cool, man. Like, you just got off one! And now you're here!" JC smiled widely, and Justin smiled back. JC was such a good friend. He was so sweet. Justin rolled closer to JC and patted his face.

"Such a fuckin' sweetie," Justin slurred, grinning happily. "Love ya, man."

JC waved Justin's hand away, laughing. "You are so drunk," he said, but broke into cackles halfway through. "But so am I, so it's all good."

Justin patted JC's cheeks one last time just because, and then settled back onto his stomach, propped his head on his crossed arms. "You're lucky I'm such a good friend," he informed JC. "Flyin' across the country to watch you make your first video." He rolled onto his back and looked up at the whitewashed crossbeams on the ceiling. The ceiling fan whirred lazily overhead, and he tried not to watch the paddles circling 'round. The room was spinning enough as it was.

"Not my first," JC murmured, and Justin had heard his sleepy-drunk voice enough times to know that JC was about to slide off into dreamland. "Blowin' Me Up," he added, sounding even further away than before.

"Hey, no sleeping," Justin said, poking JC lightly. "We gotta call Chris. He's already pissed that we couldn't come down." JC just rolled onto his side and curled up, hands under his head. He blinked sleepily at Justin and closed his eyes. "Jace." Justin prodded him a little harder but to no avail. He was out like a light.

Justin rolled his eyes, which set the room off on a new orbit. "Urrrrrgh," he gurgled. He closed his eyes until the spinning stopped, and fumbled for his phone. He didn't care what Chris might be doing at that moment. He was calling and then he was getting his ass into bed. He peered at the tiny buttons on his cellphone and for the thousandth time, was glad he'd programmed memory dial.

"Yo, Timba!" Justin could barely hear Chris over the waves of music pulsing behind his voice. Some kind of island rhythm, and Justin was suddenly sorry he hadn't at least gone down for the day. He could hear Lance and Joey in the background, and Kelly's high laughter over that. It must have been a hell of a party - people were screaming with laughter and calling Chris' name.

"Man, that sounds like quite a shindig. What up, oldster? D' you get that silver-plated cane I sent you?"

"Suck me, Timberlake. So, how's Jace? How's our newest baby supahstah?"

Justin cackled, but JC barely stirred. "He'd totally kick your ass if you said that to his face. But yeah, he did good," he said proudly. He glanced over at JC, still smiling sweetly in his sleep. His hair curled wildly around his face, curls moving gently in the soft breeze from the fan. "They finished up shooting this evening; he's slightly whipped. Listen." Justin held the phone close to JC's face so Chris could hear his soft snoring. "Ain't that cute?"

"Speaking of whipped," Chis said, and Justin could almost see him rubbing his hands together gleefully.

He refused to rise to the bait. "So anyway, we just called to wish your old ass a happy birthday. Tell Joey and Lance they'd better take good care of you."

"Yeah, and if you really cared you'd be here to do it."

"Come on, I wanted to be here for him," Justin said.

"Dude," Chris said softly, as softly as he could and still make himself heard, "I'm teasing. And I know he made a whole lot of noise about being okay on his own, but I also know he was glad you were there."

When Justin glanced at JC he was surprised to see that his eyes very narrowly slit open, the smile still on his face. He looked goofy and loopy and adorable. "The baby supahstah is awake if you want to talk to him," Justin said.

JC very sleepily rolled his eyes, but held his hand out for the phone. "Old man," he laughed.

The carpet was comfortable, and Justin was pleasantly warm and pleasantly buzzed. He squirmed a bit, getting comfortable, and drifted off to the sound of JC's slow, sleepy laughter.



It wasn't the first time that JC had put Justin in bed after a night of drinking. Justin had no idea how JC, three sheets to the wind, could've taken care of himself, let alone another person, but he obviously had. Justin snuggled deeper in the blankets and turned away from the light streaming through the window.

And that was very odd. The back of a lightly-tanned, lightly-freckled shoulder rose out of the sea of sheets that covered the bed. Broad shoulders like JC's, but...different. Not quite masculine. Kind of...feminine. Justin glanced around without moving, and yes, he was in the guest room he always used at JC's house. He glanced again at the shoulder, at the dark tumble of waves and curls on the pillow.

When he'd fallen asleep on the floor, there'd only been two people in the house, JC and him. Was this one of JC's one-night hookups? Had she wandered in after he'd fallen asleep? God, had she been here on a booty call, and if so, why the hell was she in here with him? Slightly horrified and more than slightly irritated, Justin sighed. He hated mornings.

"Miss? I don't know who you are," he said, prodding the shoulder gently, "but JC's room is down the hall."

"Dude, I'm aware." The girl snuffled and let out a decidedly unfeminine snort of displeasure. "Shut up and go back to sleep, J. It's cool."

She'd mumbled into the pillow, but Justin had heard enough to raise his eyebrows. Most of JC's overnight friends were of the exquisitely ladylike variety, and with the exception of the gangly Brazilian model, Justin couldn't imagine any of them snorting. And she'd called him J. No one called him J without his permission. Just...no. He levered himself up on his elbows and tried to peer over her hair. No dice. He sighed and kissed goodbye any thought of sleeping in. JC had plenty of rooms, but he'd be damned if he'd get up so some stranger could take his bed.

"Hey." He prodded her again. "Not to be rude, but this is my room. Well, when I'm here, which I am now. Really, you should go." He was used to rousting unfamiliar women from hotel rooms on the road, but this was a little different. "Come on."

With a sigh of the long suffering, the girl turned over to face him. Justin stared and blinked.

She was still groggy with sleep, and peered at Justin through narrowed eyes. "What?" She looked pretty cranky and a hell of a lot like JC. "Why are you staring at me? And what the hell are you doing up so early?" The girl scowled at him. "And again, why the staring? And what the hell is up with my voice?"

Justin's mind made the leap lightning quick. "Motherfucker!" he growled and flipped the blankets back as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Motherfucking Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick and his half-Irish leprechaun ass!"




She paced at the edge of Justin's vision, a tall, slender young woman in ill-fitting sleep pants and a wifebeater that sagged at the shoulders but pulled tight across startlingly perky breasts. When Justin realized that he was staring at the darkish, rosy smudges of her nipples beneath the white wifebeater, he quickly turned away.

"Chris, if you don't answer this phone you're getting a beat down like you won't believe."

"Man, you've been trying him for a half hour. Leave voicemail and forget it," JC said wearily. JC's voice, a half octave higher than before, still sounded wrong, wrong, wrong coming from that body. Justin wasn't sure if it was as disconcerting as looking into the eyes he knew so well, surrounded by a face that seemed so familiar, but so strange.

"You okay?" Justin asked.

JC shrugged. "Well, I'm a woman now, so that's new and different, but yeah, I think I'm okay, otherwise."

Justin sighed and flipped his phone shut. "They're obviously sleeping it off." He sank down on the couch. "Come on, sit." JC hesitated, and Justin patted the cushion. "Come on, sit. Worrying certainly won't help anything."

JC sighed and flopped onto the couch beside Justin. "You know, I'm all for new and exciting experiences, but...wow. Not sure I'd have taken this journey voluntarily." She looked down at her chest, held her hand out and spread her fingers.

"With a hangover, yet," Justin agreed, sighing. He dropped his head back on the couch and closed his eyes against the sight of the overhead fan, circling. "I'm surprised you're not freaking," he said, and opened one eye to give JC the once over. "If it were me, I'd be on a plane by now, ready to kick some Kirkpatrick ass."

"You know I don't believe in violence," JC said, giving her head a little shake. "Though I might look the other way if Lonnie happened to sit on him or something." She grinned a little at that, and Justin knew it would be okay.

"Not the best time with your promo and stuff coming up," he said.

JC's face crumpled a little. "My album," she said simply, and looked at Justin. "Uhm," she cleared her throat and Justin wondered if she was about to cry. "I think I'll be okay if this doesn't last too long. I can do interviews by phone, and I've already taken a bunch of new head shots and stuff. Thank God we wrapped the video yesterday."

Justin nodded as she talked. His head snapped up suddenly. "Wait...you've got that Guava thing. Guavaween? And...shit, Jace." They looked at each other at the same time when realization hit. "The RMAs and the AMAs. Presenting."

And JC's face crumpled a little more.

"Fucking bloody hell!" JC suddenly screamed and launched herself off the couch. "Could anything else happen to me? Anything? Hasn't enough fucking happened since I decided to do this goddamned album?" She kicked the couch to punctuate the last few words and dropped suddenly to the cushions, grimacing in pain. "Kicking the couch is bad," she said, holding her toes.

Date: 2010-08-09 02:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] brighton-girl.livejournal.com
This is good too. Find more stuff on your hard drive...maybe some Chasez Lake or something?

You rock.

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