So I have a couple bunnies that I really wish I could finish, but I know are just never going to get done.
I was supposed to write this for the Summer of Crossover Love challenge but yeah. It's saved on my computer as "Cliche" because it is.
Chris was in Nick’s kitchen, playing with the ice machine. For some reason, Nick hadn’t felt it necessary to invest in central air and Chris was moments from passing out and hitting his head on Nick’s very expensive kitchen counter. Not a good idea, considering it would most likely keep him from getting laid. And he desperately wanted to get laid.
The ice machine was making strange, grinding noises that didn’t sound too healthy. . Chris is good at fixing these kinds of things, he has his own personal touch that seems to work every time. He slammed his fist into the machine and winced when it made a loud crunching noise before an avalanche of ice cubes exploded onto the shiny tiled floor.
Chris’s jaw dropped as he stared stupidly at Nick’s busted machine. Oops. The sound of little feet caught his attention and he turned to find Nick’s pug staring up at him with the same “nice going, asshole” look Kariya liked to give him.
“Don’t tell Nick,” Chris whispered to the dog who just stared up at him with big, unblinking eyes. “Good. Glad we understand each other,” Chris muttered and crouched down to pick up the ice. When the last cube was melting in the drain, sweat was dripping down Chris’s neck and his t-shirt was stuck to his chest. Chris stared dejectedly at the ice machine. Maybe Nick wouldn’t notice. Or, Chris could just blame it on the dog.
This has been in my head for too long. It would have been cute if someone who can write Justin had taken it out of my hands.
Justin is so drunk he’s wobbling. His skin is tinted a soft red and his eyes are glazed over. The minute he sees Joey he smiles a wide, clueless, drunken smile.
The room smells. Joey recoils as he pushes into the room, until he recognizes the smell. It settles over the tiny room like a heavy fog and either Justin has a girl hiding in the bathroom or he’s been jerking off. A lot.
His mind wants to wander and spend some time with that thought but Joey’s not in the mood. “Justin,” he says slowly, taking in Justin’s lack of clothes and the pair of boxers hanging from his head. “What are you doing?”
Justin’s grin widens. “Nothing,” he says, drawing out the word in an exaggerated imitation of Joey. He’s started swinging his arms like he’s pretending to be a windmill and he’s blowing loudly. It’s kind of cute in a ridiculous sort of way and Joey’s stomach flips.
Joey looks around the room, takes in the clothes on the floor and the almost empty bottle of Absolut and wishes someone else was here to deal with this. He’d walked into Lance and Justin’s room to find Justin flinging himself around, beat-boxing and stomping loudly enough to be heard back home. Joey closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them Justin is rocking back and forth and muttering to himself and Joey isn’t sure if he should laugh or call a doctor.
Joey bends down, picks up a discarded t-shirt and holds it out. He needs Justin to get some clothing on right now.
Justin looks at the shirt then back at Joey.
“Put this on,” Joey says patiently. Maybe counting to a thousand would be better.
Justin shakes his head. “I’m hot,” he mutters, looking up at Joey with big, watery eyes.
Joey drops the shirt reluctantly. “But will you please take Lance’s underwear off your head?”
Justin looks blankly at Joey for a moment.
When Joey looks pointedly at Justin’s head, Justin gets it and giggles hysterically, like this is the funniest thing ever.
Joey’s sure that tomorrow or next week, or years from now, this will all be considerably more amusing than it is right now. Now, he concentrates on keeping his patience.
Joey takes Justin by the shoulders and guides him to the edge of the bed, pushing until Justin flops down. He takes the boxers from Justin’s head and goes into the bathroom, wondering when he became the babysitter. He comes out with a glass of water and Justin is sprawled out on his back, a hand inside his underwear. Joey nearly swallows his tongue.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Justin, come on, sit up.” He sets the glass on the bedside table and leans over, pulling Justin upright.
Justin gives Joey his best look of contempt but with all the alcohol swimming in his veins, it just looks silly.
“I’m horny, Joey,” Justin says, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth and wrinkling his forehead.
“Yeah, no shit,” Joey mutters under his breath. “I know, kid. Just drink this please and you can take care of it a little later.”
Justin stares belligerently at Joey for a long minute but takes the glass. He drinks it all, spilling it everywhere, drops of water trickling down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and scowls up at Joey.
[[ Something is supposed to go here. If I knew what, this would have been finished ages ago]]
“Jesus. Justin! For fuck’s sake, take your hand out of your pants.”
Justin sits up suddenly, blinking owlishly. “But Joey, silly. I’m not wearing any pants.”
And he holds out his hands, palms up, like they’ve suddenly disappeared and he can’t find them.
Joey can feel a dull throb start in the base of his neck and he grits his teeth to keep from hitting something. “Ok, sorry. Will you please keep your hand out of your underwear? I’ll leave in a second and you can jerk off until your dick falls off. Okay?” Joey softens his voice.
[[ Something else here]]
Joey holds up the bottle of Vodka and feels like his dad when he says, “Where did you get this?” He hates being the bad guy, but Chris asked him to look out for Justin tonight.
Justin rolls his eyes so far back in his head Joey’s sure he can see behind him. “I bought it.”
Joey really wants to hit whoever made Germany’s drinking age sixteen. Because Justin and alcohol really isn’t a good idea.
[[ And here ]]
“You could blow me,” Justin says, lowering his lashes in what Joey is sure is his attempt at being seductive. It comes off as ridiculous and endearing and Joey needs to get out of here.
“I could, but I’m not going to,” Joey says. He yanks the blankets up over Justin’s chest.
“Will you just stay with me, Joey? Please?”