turps | (no subject)

From:

http://users.livejournal.com/_jules_/

Meeeeee!!! Ahem.

I would like JC/Chris (shocked?). You can really do whatever you like, but if you want a situation - ummm, perhaps Chris "convincing" JC that glasses are hottttt?

From:

turps33.livejournal.com

Hope you like this. It sorta ventured away from what I started writing, so I hope it's hot enough for you.

Also, I had to break it into two as it's two long for comments.

Part 1

Walking into the bedroom, Chris squinted his eyes, rubbed at them with his fists, then looked again, and discovered that yes, this was JC’s room. Not that it looked like it, because JC’s room never looked like this.

Clothes littered every surface, drifts of shimmering fabric and sequins that glittered in the sunlight. A white shirt was tangled with a lurid pink t-shirt while the bedside lamp was decorated with two tiny black thongs. In the corner something white and furry lurked, which was either an escaped polar bear or JC’s fake fur coat. Chris really hoped it was the latter.

Motionless in the doorway, Chris started to pull his cell from his pocket, sure that JC had been burgled, then stopped when a feather boa flew from a closet landing next to the polar bear/fur coat thing. Quickly reviewing the situation, Chris decided there was either a burglar with very bad taste in the closet at that moment, or, a more likely explanation, it was JC himself. A theory quickly proven when Chris heard a shouted curse before JC backed out of the closet wrapped only in a small white towel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” JC continued to curse, scowling at his closet, clearly not knowing Chris was watching.

Debating the fact JC was unarmed and unwary; Chris considered screaming and jumping on his back. Then quickly changed his mind, JC in a clothing crisis was a scary thing, Chris had the scars to prove it. “What’s up, C?”

JC didn’t even jump when he heard Chris, just whirled round, hands flying as he indicated his room. “What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up. I have to be at some promotion thing in an hour, and look at me. My hair’s a mess and as for my clothes…how am I supposed to make a good impression when I’ve got nothing to wear?”

“Exaggeration much.” Deliberately looking round the room, Chris stepped over a pile of jeans at his feet and walked over to JC. “There’s enough clothes in here to clothe a small nation. That is if they wanted to dress like a nation of sparkly peacocks. Though that could be fun.” Chris thought about a whole country dressed like JC, shuddered, then forced his mind back to the task in hand. “What about your leather pants and your lips tank?”

“The pants need cleaning and I wore that tank last week.”

“Your jeans with the mirrors at the hem and your pink silk shirt?”

“One on the mirrors smashed, now they’re unlucky jeans, so I gave them away and wasn’t it the pink silk you spilled ketchup on?”

“Maybe.” Quickly changing the subject, Chris looked form JC to the room and back again. “Look, go dry your hair. I’ll find you something; I’ll even iron them for you.”

For a moment JC looked undecided and Chris thought he was going to say no, then a quick look at his watch changed his mind and he turned toward the bathroom.

From:

turps33.livejournal.com

Part 2

“I suppose, just don’t burn anything.”

“Like I’d do that.” Muttering to himself about the fact he’d only burned a hole in Justin’s nasty shirt that one time, and the way reputations never went away, Chris took JC’s iron and board from its usual place. Setting it up he entered JC’s walk in closet of doom, kicking clothes aside as he went.

Chris sighed when he entered, inside was even worse than outside, with clothes two inches deep on the floor. But Chris knew exactly what he needed, and quickly found the outfit he wanted, buried under a huge white cowboy hat.

Clothes in hand, Chris left the closet of doom and quickly ironed his selection, whistling quietly as he made sure every crease was gone. Once done, Chris bent to unplug the iron and looked up to see JC staring at him from the bathroom doorway. He looked good, hair bouncy and glossy and he smiled as he walked over to get his clothes, pulling the towel from his waist on the way.

“You think I’ll look good in a plain white shirt and jeans?”

“I know you’ll look good like that.”

“I’ll look boring.”

“You’ll look fantastic.” Handing over the clothes, Chris openly leered as JC bent to pull on the jeans. “You don’t need any sparkles and embellishments; you’re hot just as you are.”

JC blushed a little, kissing Chris quickly on his lips before pulling on the shirt.

Eyeing him critically, Chris stopped JC fastening the buttons, doing the middle two himself. “Here, take a leaf out of Lance’s book. Now, for the final touch.” Reaching over to the bedside table, Chris plucked JC’s glasses from a jumble of jewellery and passed them over.

“You want me to wear these?”

“You don’t have to, but if you want to blow my mind, yeah.”

JC smiled wide, eyes almost disappearing as he took the glasses, putting them on. “I want to blow your mind, and other things too. But that’ll have to wait.” Sighing, JC pulled Chris close in a hug, holding him hard and tight. “I have to go to this thing. You’ll still be here when I get back?”

“I ironed for you didn’t I? Of course I’ll be here. Now go blow their minds.” Pushing JC out of the door, then letting him back in when he shouted he needed shoes, Chris watched as JC eventually ran down the stairs, waving before he left.

Alone, Chris looked at the disaster that was JC’s room then started to pick the first things up. He had to do something while he waited for JC to come back after all.

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