help_haiti lightning round, part 1
[BSB/N'sync] [Justin/Nick] [PG]
So I signed up for the lightning round over at help_haiti. This one's for pixiebeanz, who asked for JuNi set in this 'verse. :D Just over 1000 words.
Psych is probably one of Nick's favorite classes (and it's not just because Justin's in his class.) Professor Kirkpatrick is kind of a god, too.
He's not thinking about the Professor today, though, too busy experimenting with different messages till, five minutes before the end of lesson, he settles on one that, under the circumstances, will have to do.
He pretends not to watch Justin as the note sails through the air to land neatly on his desk. Underneath the table, though, his fingers are crossed and he wonders if maybe 'I'm You're really Do you want to go out sometime? Check Yes or No' is a little juvenile. Even for him.
He keeps his eyes on his desk after that, instead of ahead, which is the main reason he doesn't realize his note has been stopped in the midst of its journey back from Justin's table to his own.
"I hope this is not how you intend to dispose of your psychology notes, Timberlake. No matter how irrelevant they may be to your life of basketball."
Nick jerks his head up when he realizes how close the professor's voice is to his table, and his heart sinks when he sees the flash of paper in the professor's hands.
"Slip of the fingers, Professor," Justin says with a guileless smile, already sliding across the table in an attempt to reach for the note. "Won't happen again."
Professor Kirkpatrick isn't amused. "Good," he says, and turns so sharply Justin nearly falls over, before continuing his stroll down the row. Nick slouches a little lower in his seat as Justin resettles himself with a slight frown.
"Now, on top of that delightful essay I expect by next week," the professor says as he stops by Nick's desk, "you will also be required to read the next chapter of your textbook, and have questions ready at hand." He looks down, then, and taps Nick's desk with a finger. "Corporal punishment is not an answer."
Then he turns around again, barking, "and the word 'required' should tell you that it means 'compulsory', Fuller, no unnecessary insipidity, please."
Nick's too stunned for a moment by the flutter of white on his table to even react. When he finally reaches forward, he's rewarded by the sight of highlighted streaks of pink, yellow, and blue next to the box marked 'yes'.
He's still flushing pleasantly when the bell rings, three minutes later, and Professor Kirkpatrick lets them off with a brusque, "that will be all."
Nick walks into the tuition center, the note clamped tightly in his fist, even more nervous than usual. Talking to Justin is like exploring a new mathematical concept; he's never quite sure what to expect.
He sighs. Overthinking the situation usually does more harm than good, so Nick settles down at one of the study tables and resolutely decides to start on some work before Justin arrives.
In fact, Nick gets so absorbed in his work that he startles a moment later, when he hears the soft 'click' that accompanies the lock falling into place as the door swings shut. He hadn't even heard it open. When Nick looks up, Justin's already leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and his megawatt grin firmly in place.
"Hi," Justin says, casually.
"Um, hey?" Nick replies.
Instead of sitting, Justin hooks one ankle over the other and relaxes into his pose against the wall. "You could've just asked, you know," he says, his mouth curving. "And you could've done it sooner."
Nick blushes, hotly, and has the audacity to pretend he doesn't know what Justin's talking about. "Um, you're early today? Did you skip practice?"
"Wrong question," Justin murmurs, and suddenly he's pulling Nick to his feet and pressing him up against the wall, too, their mouths mere inches apart. "Come on, Nicky, I know you know the right one."
Nick tears his eyes away from Justin's lips, a little disorientated. "But I don't --"
Justin laughs a little, quietly. "Strike two. Last shot, Nick."
Nick blinks, and finally, his fingers curl around Justin's shoulder. His voice drops a notch when he says, "You're going to have to give me a little more to work on than that."
"Okay," Justin agrees, mouth quirking as he brushes his knuckles over Nick's cheek. "Let me demonstrate: can I kiss you?"
And then Justin's leaning in, head tilted as he covers the distance between them. The only flaw with the demonstration, Nick thinks, as Justin's mouth slants over his own, is that Justin didn't wait for an answer.
Not that Nick's complaining of course, not when Justin's lips are warm and soft and - oh. Is that tongue?
Another (long, blissful) second, and Nick's brain finally processes that yes, yes, it is.
Finally Justin pulls away, eyes sparkling, mouth bruised and wet. Nick only realizes then that his hands are fisted in Justin's sweatshirt.
"Oh," he says, awkwardly, and tries to step back. But he can't move.
Ahh, his brain chimes in, when it catches up a moment later. The wall.
"Is that all you can say?" Justin teases, smiling again. "I was hoping for a warmer reaction."
Nick feels the heat creep up his neck again, and he looks down at his sneakers. "Um, what do you want me to say?"
"I was aiming for something along the lines of, 'hey Justin, that was fucking awesome. We should do it again sometime.' Then I could suggest, 'sometime being now?' and you could nod and we could spend the next hour on a practical instead of theory work. Of course, now that I've technically had the conversation for us, we could skip right to it."
Nick carefully weighs the pros and cons of making out with Justin over doing Math.
No competition.
He leans forward, then, butterflies in his stomach already, and Justin meets him halfway.
"This works too," Justin mumbles, and then his hands are warm on Nick's hips, and his mouth is even warmer.
So I signed up for the lightning round over at help_haiti. This one's for pixiebeanz, who asked for JuNi set in this 'verse. :D Just over 1000 words.
Psych is probably one of Nick's favorite classes (and it's not just because Justin's in his class.) Professor Kirkpatrick is kind of a god, too.
He's not thinking about the Professor today, though, too busy experimenting with different messages till, five minutes before the end of lesson, he settles on one that, under the circumstances, will have to do.
He pretends not to watch Justin as the note sails through the air to land neatly on his desk. Underneath the table, though, his fingers are crossed and he wonders if maybe 'I'm You're really Do you want to go out sometime? Check Yes or No' is a little juvenile. Even for him.
He keeps his eyes on his desk after that, instead of ahead, which is the main reason he doesn't realize his note has been stopped in the midst of its journey back from Justin's table to his own.
"I hope this is not how you intend to dispose of your psychology notes, Timberlake. No matter how irrelevant they may be to your life of basketball."
Nick jerks his head up when he realizes how close the professor's voice is to his table, and his heart sinks when he sees the flash of paper in the professor's hands.
"Slip of the fingers, Professor," Justin says with a guileless smile, already sliding across the table in an attempt to reach for the note. "Won't happen again."
Professor Kirkpatrick isn't amused. "Good," he says, and turns so sharply Justin nearly falls over, before continuing his stroll down the row. Nick slouches a little lower in his seat as Justin resettles himself with a slight frown.
"Now, on top of that delightful essay I expect by next week," the professor says as he stops by Nick's desk, "you will also be required to read the next chapter of your textbook, and have questions ready at hand." He looks down, then, and taps Nick's desk with a finger. "Corporal punishment is not an answer."
Then he turns around again, barking, "and the word 'required' should tell you that it means 'compulsory', Fuller, no unnecessary insipidity, please."
Nick's too stunned for a moment by the flutter of white on his table to even react. When he finally reaches forward, he's rewarded by the sight of highlighted streaks of pink, yellow, and blue next to the box marked 'yes'.
He's still flushing pleasantly when the bell rings, three minutes later, and Professor Kirkpatrick lets them off with a brusque, "that will be all."
Nick walks into the tuition center, the note clamped tightly in his fist, even more nervous than usual. Talking to Justin is like exploring a new mathematical concept; he's never quite sure what to expect.
He sighs. Overthinking the situation usually does more harm than good, so Nick settles down at one of the study tables and resolutely decides to start on some work before Justin arrives.
In fact, Nick gets so absorbed in his work that he startles a moment later, when he hears the soft 'click' that accompanies the lock falling into place as the door swings shut. He hadn't even heard it open. When Nick looks up, Justin's already leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and his megawatt grin firmly in place.
"Hi," Justin says, casually.
"Um, hey?" Nick replies.
Instead of sitting, Justin hooks one ankle over the other and relaxes into his pose against the wall. "You could've just asked, you know," he says, his mouth curving. "And you could've done it sooner."
Nick blushes, hotly, and has the audacity to pretend he doesn't know what Justin's talking about. "Um, you're early today? Did you skip practice?"
"Wrong question," Justin murmurs, and suddenly he's pulling Nick to his feet and pressing him up against the wall, too, their mouths mere inches apart. "Come on, Nicky, I know you know the right one."
Nick tears his eyes away from Justin's lips, a little disorientated. "But I don't --"
Justin laughs a little, quietly. "Strike two. Last shot, Nick."
Nick blinks, and finally, his fingers curl around Justin's shoulder. His voice drops a notch when he says, "You're going to have to give me a little more to work on than that."
"Okay," Justin agrees, mouth quirking as he brushes his knuckles over Nick's cheek. "Let me demonstrate: can I kiss you?"
And then Justin's leaning in, head tilted as he covers the distance between them. The only flaw with the demonstration, Nick thinks, as Justin's mouth slants over his own, is that Justin didn't wait for an answer.
Not that Nick's complaining of course, not when Justin's lips are warm and soft and - oh. Is that tongue?
Another (long, blissful) second, and Nick's brain finally processes that yes, yes, it is.
Finally Justin pulls away, eyes sparkling, mouth bruised and wet. Nick only realizes then that his hands are fisted in Justin's sweatshirt.
"Oh," he says, awkwardly, and tries to step back. But he can't move.
Ahh, his brain chimes in, when it catches up a moment later. The wall.
"Is that all you can say?" Justin teases, smiling again. "I was hoping for a warmer reaction."
Nick feels the heat creep up his neck again, and he looks down at his sneakers. "Um, what do you want me to say?"
"I was aiming for something along the lines of, 'hey Justin, that was fucking awesome. We should do it again sometime.' Then I could suggest, 'sometime being now?' and you could nod and we could spend the next hour on a practical instead of theory work. Of course, now that I've technically had the conversation for us, we could skip right to it."
Nick carefully weighs the pros and cons of making out with Justin over doing Math.
No competition.
He leans forward, then, butterflies in his stomach already, and Justin meets him halfway.
"This works too," Justin mumbles, and then his hands are warm on Nick's hips, and his mouth is even warmer.