Fic: for wanting to be well-groomed
for wanting to be well-groomed
The Cab/Jonas Brothers. Singer/Joe, PG, 814 words.
“I took a picture with Hannah, once. With Miley.” Alex nods.
“So, hey, you’ve met Hannah Montana, right? Shit, you’ve probably made out with her. Miley Cyrus, I mean.” Alex stops himself there. The dude’s Disney spawn, of course he knows who the hell Hannah/Miley is.
The guy’s--Joe’s--brow is furrowed, lips quirked up, like he’s amused but cautious about it. Like he has no idea what kind of drugs Alex might‘ve shot up before starting this conversation. Alex gets that particular look from other people occasionally. Okay, maybe he gets it lot. Whatever.
“Yeah, I’ve met her,” Joe says, kind of slowly.
“Oh, hey, hey,” Alex says excitedly, “didn’t your littlest brother date her or something?”
“Yes.” Joe takes a sip from the cup in his hand. “Yes, he did.” He glances at Alex from under the fringe of his hair, tugging a hand through it. Still, with that half amused, half alarmed expression.
Alex might be a little offended, but he’s already had a couple of drinks, so. What the fuck ever. And seriously, this Joe dude should be grateful, fucking pleased, that he’s talking to Alex and not, like, Pete. Or Cash. Seriously, Joe could be having some kind of situation, if he’d gotten into a conversation with just the wrong--or right, if you want to look at it that way--person. He’s lucky, is what Alex is trying to get at.
Okay. Okay, so, maybe Alex has had more drinks than he’s let on. Maybe he is actually offended. Whatever.
“I took a picture with Hannah, once. With Miley.” Alex nods.
“Really,” Joe drawls. “Before or after you raided her dad‘s closet?”
“Oh!” Alex shouts. “Ohh, the kid can bite back. I see.” Alex grins at him, eyes running up and down, like he’s just now noticing Joe for the first time. Like he saw him before, but he didn’t see him.
And there, right there, fucking finally, he gets a real smile from the guy.
And, hey. Wow. It’s a pretty sweet smile.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, though.” Alex looks down at himself, turning his foot out as he looks over his own outfit. His jeans are red. Billy Ray would never wear red pants. And anyway, the dude so doesn’t have any right to make any cracks about clothing, Alex knows that much. For real, Alex has seen the pictures. He’s seen the gold lame jacket.
Joe cocks an eyebrows, says, “I don’t know, maybe it was your boots that threw me off?” He shrugs, still smiling. “My bad.”
“Yeah, but, hey,” Alex says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “wouldn’t, like, dating Miley Cyrus interfere with having the--you know.” He breaks off, waving a hand at Joe’s left ring finger. Purity rings, fucking hell. He bets Cash would find that freaking hysterical. “’Cause, yeah, I heard she’s a loose girl.”
Some guy standing a little behind Joe turns, gives Alex a weird look. Huh. Maybe he should work on actually, hey, actually being quiet when he’s trying to whisper. Maybe.
“A loose girl, really?” Joe snorts. “Who even says that?”
“Whatever, kid, I’m just saying,” Alex says, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying that I’ve heard some things about Miss Montana.”
Joe squints at him, chewing on his lower lip. It looks like it’s maybe a habit. The lip-biting, that is. And it’s kind of fucking adorable to boot. He wonders if Joe knows how his teeth digging into his lower lip like that make it redder, draw potentially unwanted attention to his mouth. Joe smirks suddenly, ducking his head as he takes another sip of his drink.
Alex is willing to bet that, yeah, he knows exactly how it makes him look.
Joe’s squinting at him again, over the rim of his cup. “And how old are you?”
“Nineteen,” Alex says, and stands up a little straighter.
Joe makes a soft sound, sort of looks at Alex mock-pityingly. “Then, sorry to say, you don’t get to call me ‘kid’.”
The looks he shoots Alex now are nothing but amused, and, possibly, a touch of something else. The tables have maybe, sort of, turned and now Alex isn’t the only one doing all the teasing. He can’t say that he minds all that much. It’s actually almost freaky how much he absolutely does not mind.
Alex shifts from side to side on his feet a little, says, “So.” He waves another hand at Joe’s left. “How much does that thing limit you?”
“I have to save myself for marriage,” Joe says. “How much do you think it limits?”
Right. “Right, right.” Alex nods a couple of times. “So, that’s like--nothing below the waist?”
“Wanna go make out?” Joe asks quickly, and Alex can see that the tips of his ears are red. Joe bites his lower lip again. He basically beat Alex to the punch.
And Alex can’t say that he actually minds all that much.
The Cab/Jonas Brothers. Singer/Joe, PG, 814 words.
“I took a picture with Hannah, once. With Miley.” Alex nods.
“So, hey, you’ve met Hannah Montana, right? Shit, you’ve probably made out with her. Miley Cyrus, I mean.” Alex stops himself there. The dude’s Disney spawn, of course he knows who the hell Hannah/Miley is.
The guy’s--Joe’s--brow is furrowed, lips quirked up, like he’s amused but cautious about it. Like he has no idea what kind of drugs Alex might‘ve shot up before starting this conversation. Alex gets that particular look from other people occasionally. Okay, maybe he gets it lot. Whatever.
“Yeah, I’ve met her,” Joe says, kind of slowly.
“Oh, hey, hey,” Alex says excitedly, “didn’t your littlest brother date her or something?”
“Yes.” Joe takes a sip from the cup in his hand. “Yes, he did.” He glances at Alex from under the fringe of his hair, tugging a hand through it. Still, with that half amused, half alarmed expression.
Alex might be a little offended, but he’s already had a couple of drinks, so. What the fuck ever. And seriously, this Joe dude should be grateful, fucking pleased, that he’s talking to Alex and not, like, Pete. Or Cash. Seriously, Joe could be having some kind of situation, if he’d gotten into a conversation with just the wrong--or right, if you want to look at it that way--person. He’s lucky, is what Alex is trying to get at.
Okay. Okay, so, maybe Alex has had more drinks than he’s let on. Maybe he is actually offended. Whatever.
“I took a picture with Hannah, once. With Miley.” Alex nods.
“Really,” Joe drawls. “Before or after you raided her dad‘s closet?”
“Oh!” Alex shouts. “Ohh, the kid can bite back. I see.” Alex grins at him, eyes running up and down, like he’s just now noticing Joe for the first time. Like he saw him before, but he didn’t see him.
And there, right there, fucking finally, he gets a real smile from the guy.
And, hey. Wow. It’s a pretty sweet smile.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, though.” Alex looks down at himself, turning his foot out as he looks over his own outfit. His jeans are red. Billy Ray would never wear red pants. And anyway, the dude so doesn’t have any right to make any cracks about clothing, Alex knows that much. For real, Alex has seen the pictures. He’s seen the gold lame jacket.
Joe cocks an eyebrows, says, “I don’t know, maybe it was your boots that threw me off?” He shrugs, still smiling. “My bad.”
“Yeah, but, hey,” Alex says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “wouldn’t, like, dating Miley Cyrus interfere with having the--you know.” He breaks off, waving a hand at Joe’s left ring finger. Purity rings, fucking hell. He bets Cash would find that freaking hysterical. “’Cause, yeah, I heard she’s a loose girl.”
Some guy standing a little behind Joe turns, gives Alex a weird look. Huh. Maybe he should work on actually, hey, actually being quiet when he’s trying to whisper. Maybe.
“A loose girl, really?” Joe snorts. “Who even says that?”
“Whatever, kid, I’m just saying,” Alex says, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying that I’ve heard some things about Miss Montana.”
Joe squints at him, chewing on his lower lip. It looks like it’s maybe a habit. The lip-biting, that is. And it’s kind of fucking adorable to boot. He wonders if Joe knows how his teeth digging into his lower lip like that make it redder, draw potentially unwanted attention to his mouth. Joe smirks suddenly, ducking his head as he takes another sip of his drink.
Alex is willing to bet that, yeah, he knows exactly how it makes him look.
Joe’s squinting at him again, over the rim of his cup. “And how old are you?”
“Nineteen,” Alex says, and stands up a little straighter.
Joe makes a soft sound, sort of looks at Alex mock-pityingly. “Then, sorry to say, you don’t get to call me ‘kid’.”
The looks he shoots Alex now are nothing but amused, and, possibly, a touch of something else. The tables have maybe, sort of, turned and now Alex isn’t the only one doing all the teasing. He can’t say that he minds all that much. It’s actually almost freaky how much he absolutely does not mind.
Alex shifts from side to side on his feet a little, says, “So.” He waves another hand at Joe’s left. “How much does that thing limit you?”
“I have to save myself for marriage,” Joe says. “How much do you think it limits?”
Right. “Right, right.” Alex nods a couple of times. “So, that’s like--nothing below the waist?”
“Wanna go make out?” Joe asks quickly, and Alex can see that the tips of his ears are red. Joe bites his lower lip again. He basically beat Alex to the punch.
And Alex can’t say that he actually minds all that much.