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i asked for what?!
This is what happens when I try to write 2 nights in a row.
i asked for what?!
The cracked-out not-quite-sequel to what you asked for. Again, written a long time ago, for J.
if you think this happened, i think you're too far gone for a disclaimer.
Me: ::mutter, mutter, trash another file, drink another glass of wine:: C'mon, c'mon…Guys, do something. Anything. This is no time for a writing crisis. All I need is some smut and we'll be done. Work with me here...
Bright flash of light that leaves two extra people sprawled on the floor. Think Angel returning from Hell but with clothes.
JC: Whoa...
J: The hell?
Me: Oh, wow! Visual aids! ::beams::
J: Uh, ok, this is for sure not London and, dude! ::pokes JC:: Why are you even here? You're supposed to be finishing up your solo release, you can't be out partying in ... some strange woman's bedroom?
JC: Oh, look who's talking about partying in people's bedrooms--
Me: Um. Hi? Speaking as the "strange woman" whose bedroom you're visiting, I'd just like to thank the two of you for stopping by. We have a small crisis regarding the marketing of Blowin Me Up, and we're all trying our best to deal with it. Last night, y'all were very cooperative and I was able to write something fairly entertaining. See? ::hands over printed pages::
Boys: ::read::
JC: uh, wait. Him? Me? Like, my best friend? And me? The kid who followed me around? And ... and ... a bed?
J: ::grabs pages out of JC's hands:: Bondage? C, man, are you really into that shit? 'Cause, uh, that visual's kinda hot.
JC: ::stares:: You're straight.
J: Well, yeah, but ... ::turns to me:: It says he's mostly naked. Mostly. So, what was he wearing?
Me: uh, well, what do you want him to be wearing?
JC: Wait a minute! You were on the cover of the freaking Advocate. Coverboy for coolest straight people. Straight! Why would you care what I was wearing?
J: ::ignores JC:: Like really old, soft, gray boxer briefs?
Me: Absolutely. Anything else?
J: Nah, thanks. That works for me...
JC: ::sputtering:: I don't ... he ... there's no way I'd--
J: Yo, do I have to use a Hermes scarf? My mom wears those and it's like, messing with the vibe.
Me: Oh, no, it's your call. Completely.
J: Sweet.
JC: Ohhh, I get it now. Where's Chris? Or, no, Joey. It's gotta be Joey. He's probably got the camcorder rolling for the next Reel NSYNC. ::starts looking under beds and behind doors::
Me: Honey, Joey isn't here.
JC: Steve, then. C'mon out, you assholes. Joke's over, it wasn't ever funny to start with, and ... why are you shaking your head?
Me: Honestly. I wouldn't lie. Nobody is here but the two of you.
J: Like, how tight is tight?
JC: Justin! Look at me. You. Are. Straight.
J: What is with you, man? Since when have you ever paid attention to shit like labels and outdated gender roles and seriously? With your wardrobe? What do you care if I'm queer or not?
JC: You ... I ... you said ... and Chris laughed at me ... and ...
J: ::whispers to me:: um, maybe a little wine? That usually mellows him out.
JC: ok, yeah, fine, it always happens like this ...'JC is the gullible one, he lives in another world, no need to tell him anything ...'
J: He likes the good stuff, but, he's kinda freaked, so really, anything'll do. Boone's Farm, even.
Me: If it calms him down, I'll share. ::hands over glass::
J: C? Here, man, try some of this and I'll stop asking her questions about the story, ok?
JC: You promise?
J: Yeah. ::pats JC comfortingly:: Just drink your wine, dude.
JC: OK. ::sips cautiously:: This is really good, thanks.
(It damn well better be good, it's the last of my '81 Sonoma Cutrer.)
J: Right, we'll get you a case of it; it'll all be good. You ready for another glass?
JC: Uh huh, thanks. You know, I'll just write down the name of the vineyard, and maybe we can go visit it. You know, when I wake up from this freaky-ass dream and you get back from England...
J: You do that, man, and I'll talk to the nice lady some more, ok?
JC: Sure, J. ::smiles happily::
J: See? Mellowed him right the fuck out. So, spill. What does this ::waves papers:: have to do with his song?
Me: It's a little complicated but, well, it's kind of an incentive for TRL votes for Blowin Me Up.
J: You mean, like a bribe? You think my boy's video is so crappy nobody would vote for it otherwise? Because if that's what you're sayin, we're gonna be having some words here.
Me: No! We love the camels! And the monster trucks. It's just ... TRL? Ugh. I know you guys have this parasitic relationship with the show, but even the Web site annoys some of us. And did you know that when you call to vote, you have to listen to Carson? But we do it. As many times as we can get through. Think of this more as a reward for suffering through the trauma to vote for him.
J: Yeah, ok, I got you. ::catches sight of JC digging through the mess on my coffee table:: Yo, C, you don't wanna write on that, it's her kid's homework. Write on the back of the story. Oh, no, forget I said that. There's no story, nothing to worry about. Here, have another glass. ::turns back to me:: Right. It's a reward. And you need more of it?
Me: ::nods glumly:: And I got nothing tonight. I mean, I had a nice starting point but nothing was working. And then, bam! There you two were. It must be some weird muse thing. Or it's the half-bottle of wine I had with dinner.
J: Well, whatever, we're here now, and if stories about us screwing around will screw with the suits at Jive and make Carson fucking Daly have to watch his ex-fiancee strut around on a daily basis, I'll just keep pouring booze down his throat and see what happens next. Work for you?
Me: Totally
J: But, seriously? Even if this is some sort of mass hallucination? I don't think I can deal with the bondage shit, so we're gonna have to be a little more vanilla.
Me: No problem. At all. You have the floor.
J: Yeah, well, lemme have a little of that, too. ::grabs bottle of wine:: 'Cause between you and me? I really haven't done this before, but since this can't be real, I figure I'm never gonna get a better chance to see what could happen.
J: ::deep breath, squares shoulders, walks over to join JC on the couch:: Hey C, I just had some of her wine and it was pretty good. Can I see if yours is better?
JC: Oh, hey, Justin! Absolutely, man. My glass is your glass. And, dude, you know, that's the best way to develop your palate. Tasting and comparing, and you should really have someplace where you can write your impressions down and keep track of them and--
J: ::leans over and licks lightly at JC's mouth::
JC: J? What are you do-doing?
J: Tasting. ::lick:: Comparing. ::lick::
JC: A-and?
J: Don't know yet. ::brushes lips over JC's mouth:: Don't want to rush things. ::goes back for deeper kiss::
Me: ::searching for notebook::
J: ::pulls JC onto his lap, slides hands up under his shirt:: mmm, did you ever know ::kiss:: how hard ::kiss:: I was crushing ::kiss:: on you back in the day? ::gets shirt off, moves kisses to jaw and neck::
JC: ::gasping:: When?
Me: ::scribbling frantically::
J: Christmas special ... ::pays some special attention to JC's collarbone:: When we were mice ... ::stops to see how much of a bruise he's left, switches to other side:: Every. ::starts kissing his way down JC's body:: Damn. ::throws in a bite for good measure:: Night. ::Licks over the bite mark:: Of the Celebrity tour.
JC: J ... J ... stop. ::tries to catch his breath:: You can't just--oh, fuck, where did you learn to do that? You can't just change your sexual orientation, get me drunk and ... and expect me to--god, yes, right there--to get naked.
J: ::hands very busy:: Ok, fine, since you're already drunk, why don't you get me naked.
JC: ::grabs at Justin's hands:: You're serious. You're not just messing with me? Chris isn't going to jump out of a closet and tackle me as soon as I strip down?
J: Never been more serious in my life. ::brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses JC's:: And if Chris shows up, I'll stuff him back into wherever he came from.
JC: ::stays quiet and still for a long time, then shrugs:: This is one hell of a trip, dude. I don't even think I was smoking up before I feel asleep. ::wriggles out of his jeans and looks down at himself:: And I know I wasn't wearing underwear. But, whatever. The real question is what are you going to do now?
Me: ::willing to trade at least one kid for video camera::
J: Oh, good question... ::looks over JC's shoulder at me:: Thanks for the gray boxers. ::turns attention to getting them off::
i asked for what?!
The cracked-out not-quite-sequel to what you asked for. Again, written a long time ago, for J.
if you think this happened, i think you're too far gone for a disclaimer.
Me: ::mutter, mutter, trash another file, drink another glass of wine:: C'mon, c'mon…Guys, do something. Anything. This is no time for a writing crisis. All I need is some smut and we'll be done. Work with me here...
Bright flash of light that leaves two extra people sprawled on the floor. Think Angel returning from Hell but with clothes.
JC: Whoa...
J: The hell?
Me: Oh, wow! Visual aids! ::beams::
J: Uh, ok, this is for sure not London and, dude! ::pokes JC:: Why are you even here? You're supposed to be finishing up your solo release, you can't be out partying in ... some strange woman's bedroom?
JC: Oh, look who's talking about partying in people's bedrooms--
Me: Um. Hi? Speaking as the "strange woman" whose bedroom you're visiting, I'd just like to thank the two of you for stopping by. We have a small crisis regarding the marketing of Blowin Me Up, and we're all trying our best to deal with it. Last night, y'all were very cooperative and I was able to write something fairly entertaining. See? ::hands over printed pages::
Boys: ::read::
JC: uh, wait. Him? Me? Like, my best friend? And me? The kid who followed me around? And ... and ... a bed?
J: ::grabs pages out of JC's hands:: Bondage? C, man, are you really into that shit? 'Cause, uh, that visual's kinda hot.
JC: ::stares:: You're straight.
J: Well, yeah, but ... ::turns to me:: It says he's mostly naked. Mostly. So, what was he wearing?
Me: uh, well, what do you want him to be wearing?
JC: Wait a minute! You were on the cover of the freaking Advocate. Coverboy for coolest straight people. Straight! Why would you care what I was wearing?
J: ::ignores JC:: Like really old, soft, gray boxer briefs?
Me: Absolutely. Anything else?
J: Nah, thanks. That works for me...
JC: ::sputtering:: I don't ... he ... there's no way I'd--
J: Yo, do I have to use a Hermes scarf? My mom wears those and it's like, messing with the vibe.
Me: Oh, no, it's your call. Completely.
J: Sweet.
JC: Ohhh, I get it now. Where's Chris? Or, no, Joey. It's gotta be Joey. He's probably got the camcorder rolling for the next Reel NSYNC. ::starts looking under beds and behind doors::
Me: Honey, Joey isn't here.
JC: Steve, then. C'mon out, you assholes. Joke's over, it wasn't ever funny to start with, and ... why are you shaking your head?
Me: Honestly. I wouldn't lie. Nobody is here but the two of you.
J: Like, how tight is tight?
JC: Justin! Look at me. You. Are. Straight.
J: What is with you, man? Since when have you ever paid attention to shit like labels and outdated gender roles and seriously? With your wardrobe? What do you care if I'm queer or not?
JC: You ... I ... you said ... and Chris laughed at me ... and ...
J: ::whispers to me:: um, maybe a little wine? That usually mellows him out.
JC: ok, yeah, fine, it always happens like this ...'JC is the gullible one, he lives in another world, no need to tell him anything ...'
J: He likes the good stuff, but, he's kinda freaked, so really, anything'll do. Boone's Farm, even.
Me: If it calms him down, I'll share. ::hands over glass::
J: C? Here, man, try some of this and I'll stop asking her questions about the story, ok?
JC: You promise?
J: Yeah. ::pats JC comfortingly:: Just drink your wine, dude.
JC: OK. ::sips cautiously:: This is really good, thanks.
(It damn well better be good, it's the last of my '81 Sonoma Cutrer.)
J: Right, we'll get you a case of it; it'll all be good. You ready for another glass?
JC: Uh huh, thanks. You know, I'll just write down the name of the vineyard, and maybe we can go visit it. You know, when I wake up from this freaky-ass dream and you get back from England...
J: You do that, man, and I'll talk to the nice lady some more, ok?
JC: Sure, J. ::smiles happily::
J: See? Mellowed him right the fuck out. So, spill. What does this ::waves papers:: have to do with his song?
Me: It's a little complicated but, well, it's kind of an incentive for TRL votes for Blowin Me Up.
J: You mean, like a bribe? You think my boy's video is so crappy nobody would vote for it otherwise? Because if that's what you're sayin, we're gonna be having some words here.
Me: No! We love the camels! And the monster trucks. It's just ... TRL? Ugh. I know you guys have this parasitic relationship with the show, but even the Web site annoys some of us. And did you know that when you call to vote, you have to listen to Carson? But we do it. As many times as we can get through. Think of this more as a reward for suffering through the trauma to vote for him.
J: Yeah, ok, I got you. ::catches sight of JC digging through the mess on my coffee table:: Yo, C, you don't wanna write on that, it's her kid's homework. Write on the back of the story. Oh, no, forget I said that. There's no story, nothing to worry about. Here, have another glass. ::turns back to me:: Right. It's a reward. And you need more of it?
Me: ::nods glumly:: And I got nothing tonight. I mean, I had a nice starting point but nothing was working. And then, bam! There you two were. It must be some weird muse thing. Or it's the half-bottle of wine I had with dinner.
J: Well, whatever, we're here now, and if stories about us screwing around will screw with the suits at Jive and make Carson fucking Daly have to watch his ex-fiancee strut around on a daily basis, I'll just keep pouring booze down his throat and see what happens next. Work for you?
Me: Totally
J: But, seriously? Even if this is some sort of mass hallucination? I don't think I can deal with the bondage shit, so we're gonna have to be a little more vanilla.
Me: No problem. At all. You have the floor.
J: Yeah, well, lemme have a little of that, too. ::grabs bottle of wine:: 'Cause between you and me? I really haven't done this before, but since this can't be real, I figure I'm never gonna get a better chance to see what could happen.
J: ::deep breath, squares shoulders, walks over to join JC on the couch:: Hey C, I just had some of her wine and it was pretty good. Can I see if yours is better?
JC: Oh, hey, Justin! Absolutely, man. My glass is your glass. And, dude, you know, that's the best way to develop your palate. Tasting and comparing, and you should really have someplace where you can write your impressions down and keep track of them and--
J: ::leans over and licks lightly at JC's mouth::
JC: J? What are you do-doing?
J: Tasting. ::lick:: Comparing. ::lick::
JC: A-and?
J: Don't know yet. ::brushes lips over JC's mouth:: Don't want to rush things. ::goes back for deeper kiss::
Me: ::searching for notebook::
J: ::pulls JC onto his lap, slides hands up under his shirt:: mmm, did you ever know ::kiss:: how hard ::kiss:: I was crushing ::kiss:: on you back in the day? ::gets shirt off, moves kisses to jaw and neck::
JC: ::gasping:: When?
Me: ::scribbling frantically::
J: Christmas special ... ::pays some special attention to JC's collarbone:: When we were mice ... ::stops to see how much of a bruise he's left, switches to other side:: Every. ::starts kissing his way down JC's body:: Damn. ::throws in a bite for good measure:: Night. ::Licks over the bite mark:: Of the Celebrity tour.
JC: J ... J ... stop. ::tries to catch his breath:: You can't just--oh, fuck, where did you learn to do that? You can't just change your sexual orientation, get me drunk and ... and expect me to--god, yes, right there--to get naked.
J: ::hands very busy:: Ok, fine, since you're already drunk, why don't you get me naked.
JC: ::grabs at Justin's hands:: You're serious. You're not just messing with me? Chris isn't going to jump out of a closet and tackle me as soon as I strip down?
J: Never been more serious in my life. ::brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses JC's:: And if Chris shows up, I'll stuff him back into wherever he came from.
JC: ::stays quiet and still for a long time, then shrugs:: This is one hell of a trip, dude. I don't even think I was smoking up before I feel asleep. ::wriggles out of his jeans and looks down at himself:: And I know I wasn't wearing underwear. But, whatever. The real question is what are you going to do now?
Me: ::willing to trade at least one kid for video camera::
J: Oh, good question... ::looks over JC's shoulder at me:: Thanks for the gray boxers. ::turns attention to getting them off::
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you've got a spare, right!? This was priceless! Loved it immensly. Lots and lots and lots!
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I would have gone as high as two kids, and when I first posted this, C said she'd have loaned me one of hers. =D
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Man the was *giggles* too great
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