Something Old, Something New
by Shine

It was always the same, every time they flew.

It wasn't like it had been a surprise, JC reflected, slouching down a bit and resting his head against the back of the seat, letting his eyes drift half-shut. He'd known for years. Since the second day Justin had been on the set, and JC had walked into the men's room at the wrong time, and heard it. He'd known then, and he knew now, it no longer was the shocking thing it had once been.

Beside him, Justin squirmed a little, fidgeted, and tugged the blanket up higher, awkwardly, one hand slithering up from beneath the fabric to pull at the hem, and then trying to scoot back down without dislodging the blanket. It wasn't working particularly well.

Eventually JC rolled his eyes and sat up, reaching over and twitching it firmly into place, tucking it in around Justin's shoulder to hold it. Justin smiled a sleepy, quiet thanks and settled back, broadening shoulders starting to fill the narrow airline seat, his legs spread and loose under the folds of the blanket. The air on the plane was cool and dry and Justin snuggled a little further underneath the rough cotton, sighing in pleasure.

They were all tired, but they were going home-for more than four days, this time-and so they were inclined to be agreeable. No one had protested when JC offered to let Justin sit beside him. No one had cared when Justin agreed, eyes bright and eager and shrewd.

JC resumed his previous pose of half-asleep drowsiness, face turned towards Justin, and waited.

It wasn't right after they took off; in fact, it wasn't for at least an hour after they'd gained altitude, until Justin seemed satisfied that that JC's limp body and closed eyes were genuine. JC appreciated the courtesy, as much as it amused him. Confused him. Frustrated him.

Because the problem was that Justin never did this with anyone else. Never. JC had seen him when he sat with Chris or Joey during a flight, watched carefully the entire time, and not once had Justin even tried. He played games with them, or talked, or read a book, or leaned on their shoulders and slept.

Justin never slept on JC's shoulder.

And Justin never slept under a blanket with any of the other guys.

And JC knew exactly why. But knowing wasn't the problem. The problem was what to do about it, when it was over and Justin was asleep for real, and JC was left staring past Justin's bent head to the gray oval of the window, hands trembling ever so faintly against his thighs. He'd spent more flights than he could easily count doing just that, staring at boring white walls and boring sky and boring clouds, while on the inside his thoughts whirled at the speed of light. He'd done a lot of thinking, while they flew and Justin slept trustingly against him, long legs tangled at the ankles and one knee always pressing against his.

JC knew a couple of things about himself, the result of so many years in an industry that kept the entire self-help book trade afloat and a personality that tended towards introspection. He was smart, but got distracted too easily to ever really show it off. He loved music, although the songs in his head rarely ever sounded the same when he chained them to paper. He was good with people, friendly and good-natured, so long as he remembered how to be around them. And he was slow, slow to decide and slow to act, but stubborn once he made up his mind.

JC had made up his mind about Justin.

And this time was going to be different.

This time, when Justin slid one last watchful look in JC's direction, then closed his eyes and signed deeply, JC opened his eyes wide. And watched.

The rustling was faint, almost unnoticeable. JC saw Justin's hand stir the blankets, heard as it from a great distance the muffled sound of a zipper. A little more squirming, and Justin breathed deeply, the sound almost enough to drown out the tiny hitch as his hand settled on a target and started a slow, subtle movement.

JC watched the movement of Justin's hand, the way Justin bit his lip slightly, then licked his lips and panted quietly. He felt something tighten in his stomach, heat pooling in his groin and starting a sweet burn along his nerves at the sight of Justin lost in the sensations. He knew no one else could see them, and Justin was too good to make a sound that might alert someone. He just stroked himself, caught his breath a couple of times while his hand froze, then resumed his motion, faster and harder and more obvious, although still scrupulously covert. He was getting close, JC figured, and moved to act.

Now.

The feel of JC's hand sliding underneath the blanket must have been a complete shock to Justin; he went rigid, and his cheeks abruptly flushed crimson. JC ignored that, let the crease where thigh met hip guide his fingers, and threaded them into wiry hair, damp and hot and abrasive against his skin. Justin made a hoarse sound, slight but unmistakeable, and his eyes flew open to meet JC's gaze. JC smiled at the stricken look, and deliberately slid his hand further inside, curled his fingers around Justin's slim, quivering cock, and

squeezed

hard

Then watched Justin shudder, harder than he'd ever seen him, enjoying the way Justin's thigh was stone underneath his forearm, the way his breath was coming quicker. He squeezed again and drew his hand up the shaft to the throbbing tip, smeared with wetness. Justin made another sound, desperate and needy and JC took pity, decided not to tease. Time for that later, he thought, and began to stroke, slow and measured and making his hand tight and encouraging on Justin's heated skin.

Justin made a tiny noice high in his throat, almost a whimper. He never looked away from JC as he came, body going stiff and trembling spastically, obviously peaking but too well-trained to show much reaction even under such provocation. JC watched it all, watched Justin's body shake under his hand, then sat back, satisfied. He carefully withdrew his fingers, watching Justin's stunned face and not smiling.

He licked his fingers mostly clean, then touched Justin's cheek, let him feel the sticky remnants of his own climax on JC's hand.

"How long were you waiting for me to understand?" he asked, quietly. The flight was near-silent, lights down low for nighttime flying and even Chris' chatter, across the aisle and two seats down, had faded over the past few minutes.

Justin shook his head. "I didn't think you'd ever understand," he said, so low JC could barely hear him. It made JC smile.

"I do now," he said gently.

Justin shivered again, then slowly put himself back together, dressing with the same stealth that he'd used to undress. JC rested his hand on Justin's shoulder, one thumb patiently stroking tiny circles into Justin's neck, and he wished he could kiss where the shivers roamed over Justin's body, trace them with his tongue. He wished he could strip Justin down, spread him out, and explore to his heart's content, take his time and do it slow.

Later.

"You're distracting me," Justin whispered, and JC laughed, close to his temple.

"Good."

When the airplane landed, JC had one arm around Justin's shoulder, one finger slipping under the edge of his t-shirt sleeve, and Justin was sound asleep, leaning against him. JC looked down at Justin's face, his eyelashes, his mouth, the scruffy uneven patches of stubble along his jaw.

He hadn't looked at the wall once.

Fin