He loved days like this. Days where he would come home from work and all was calm in the world. The wind was gentle, children were running and taking advantage of the daylight that was sure to be shortened in the days to come and the turning of the seasons always brought change.

He blinked once, slowly. Change was good. Change was welcoming. A deep inhale puffed his chest out as he stood in front of the home, studying it. Outside, it was calm. Inside, it'd be a little less than. That would also be welcomed. After six weeks, three days and sixteen hours (and just about thirty three minutes and probably about fifteen seconds, but hey, who was keeping that much track of time?), the calm would be slightly disrupted. There'd be a change in the tide and he had been preparing for it the moment she stepped on the plane to go back home and he stepped on a plane that would take him half-way across the world before he'd spend the next few weeks with her.

It was two different worlds to him, not that it mattered. Living on the west coast was a completely different aspect of the world than where he was standing. Here, he wasn't who he was on the west coast; here, he was just the kid that grew up in Maryland and jumped shipped to live in Florida and then California for awhile. People didn't look at him like he was under a magnifying glass, didn't give him any three, four looks when he'd pass them on the street. Okay, so it definitely mattered.

He took another lingering breath, pushing open the door quietly and letting it fall closed with a gentle click. The house smelled deliciously of sauces and spices, eyes falling closed once more as he took in the scent. This, this was home. The place he lived? That was a house.

He heard her singing to herself softly, song familiar only because of being with her, group more familiar to him. She was unaware that he had arrived, unaware that he was slowly approaching, an easy smile spreading on his face as she continued to face in the other direction, utterly clueless.

"If I die tomorrow," she sang softly, measuring out spices as she stirred them into the pot, "as the minutes fade away; I can't remember, have I said all I can say?" She paused for a moment, lifting the wooden spoon up and testing the sauce, a hum of approval breezing between her lips. She looked best like this, he thought, her hair messily pulled back by a headband, pins keeping her choppy hair away from her face, not styled to impress him. The pants she wore seemed to have seen better days, and the shirt, he recognized from days where she believed it had been time to 'spring clean' - either house acceptable.

"You're my everything," she continued to sing, she now washing her hands in the sink, shaking them dry as she reached for a paper towel and looked around in the front of her on the counter, "you make me feel so alive ... if I die tomorrow ..."

He pushed himself away from his stance against the doorframe, inching his way towards her, she startling slightly as he pressed up against her from behind, easing when she felt his familiar touch, hands snaking around her frame and lacing his hands through hers that were holding to the countertop. "It brings out the worst in me," he murmured, continuing on with the song that she had begun, "when you're not around; I missed the sound of your voice, the silence seems so loud." He pressed a kiss to the spot just above her ear, nuzzling his nose into the mess of her hair and inhaling. She smelled like soap and spaghetti sauce. She was home. "'Cause there's no one else since I found you; I know it's been hard ..."

She smiled as she released his hands, turning around slowly so that they were now face-to-face, his body trapping her against the sink. "Hi, baby," she whispered, eyes falling closed as his lips moved against hers, giving her a silent greeting, a passionate hello. When he pulled away, her hands were at his face, cupping it between them as she studied him. "You seem tired."

He shrugged, eyes still settled on her mouth. God, he had missed those lips, those eyes, those -

"JC," she laughed, his eyes bringing themselves back up to meet hers, "you want to take a nap?"

He let his gaze go over her head to the clock on the microwave, shaking his head. "No, I'll sleep enough tonight. I just want to spend time with you."

"Who's to say you're going to be getting any sleep?"

He chuckled at her hinting, pressing his lips to hers again, this time the kiss short and gentle. "Hi," he said as she laughed, shaking her head. "Figured I'd want to throw that out there since I didn't before."

She grinned. "Well, why don't you go lie down or take a shower to wash the reek of plane off? I just started the sauce so it'll be a good bit. Not too long, so it'd be either or ..."

He nodded, squeezing her hand before turning around and heading for her stairs, grabbing his two bags and making his way to the familiar bedroom at the end of the hall. She was right about one thing: he reeked of plane. With the mix of food, stale air and air odorizer, he was surprised she stayed near him for so long. Stripping of his clothes and grabbing the necessary toiletries, he walked into her bathroom, pushing the door closed with the heel of his foot.

The hot water was welcomed as it hit his face in a steady spray, eyes falling closed as he let the water travel down his body. It wasn't until he fought to bring his eyes open that he realized just how tired he really was, quickly washing and cleaning himself before he fell asleep standing, leaning up against the cool lineoleum wall. It had been a long six weeks (three days, sixteen hours, thirty three minutes and so on ...) for him, going from overseas to film an independent movie to wrapping up another season of 'America's Best Dance Crew' to finally going back into the studio, trying to get his inspiration to finish his second solo album, thought it seemed to be slow moving. He was tired, oh-so tired from the movie and the show that the album had fallen onto the back burner. He was trying not to push it too far, he owed it to himself to finish it, to those who were actually waiting for another album. He owed it to himself to finish every little thing he started, and he would. He promised himself he would ... after he had time with her.

Her. The very thought of her brought a smile to his face. She was not the stereotypical woman he usually fell for: snobby, modelesque in behaviors and eating habits and definitely not Hollywood. Of course, she was a woman who loved to be dressed up to be wined and dined occasionally, but she didn't expect it to be nightly, weekly ... hell, even monthly. She'd rather sit at home on the couch and watch an awards show than be on the carpet, being judged by the whole world. She had tattoos, a lot of them. She didn't carry the normal attitude he thought girls with tattoos had: she was sweet and funny and the smile she had given him the day he met her those two years ago had reeled him in the moment he realized that it had been for him.

He met her backstage at a charity concert that Justin had been working on. She was running around trying to keep everything in place, eyes darting frantically every so often when something would be bumped or bothered. He watched her from a distance when Nikki Sixx bumped into her accidentally, he whirling around and gripping her arms, apologizing profusely for his mistake as she stuttered slightly before recovering and smiling widely, accepting his apology and a handshake turned into hug. They spoke for a few minutes, the beam on her face brighter and brighter as they continued on with their chat. As soon as he left, giving her another parting hug, she turned her head to see who had witnessed her account, eyes meeting his and grinning widely. She was overjoyed.

He grinned, walking over towards her as he held the neck of the beer bottle in one hand. Made a stupid joke about breaking the skin on her cheeks from smiling so widely as she blushed, the smile seemingly getting larger as he introduced himself. She offered to get him another beer and he declined, saying he was able to do so himself. She then joked about he being the only one of the few celebrities that had shown that actually showed courtesy to those who were actually working for Justin, not them as their personal slaves.

Of course, in true Chasez fashion, he made yet another stupid crack about a pretty girl waiting on them because they just enjoyed looking at her and she hit him playfully in the arm, not accepting his reasoning as she turned, her voice being hollered from the other end of the backstage area. She quickly said goodbye, disappearing before he even had a chance to say his farewell.

Some hours later (and a few drinks, might he add ...), he was standing out by the front doors, waiting on the valet with his car, growing impatient with the certain celebrity in front of him who could not remember which car of the five she had brought with her that night. He grew annoyed, reaching forward and grabbing his keys that were in plain sight, shoving them in his pockets. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to drive - that was what the city was for: he'd be hailing a cab.

He stood at the end of the street, arm up as he waited for a cab to come. Annoyance seemed to be burning more and more as they passed him, he jumping when he heard a shrill whistle from beside him, he nearly jumping out of his skin. When he turned to see who the owner of the shrill noise, he was pleasantly surprised. She met his gaze with a grin as the cab slowed to the curb, she opening the door. "Sometimes, it's better to have a woman handy," she grinned, gesturing for him to get in.

"Nah, that is rightfully your ride," he smiled, "go ahead. I'll find one sooner or later ..."

"Share?"

He turned his head from looking at the passing cabs, one slowing to a stop behind the one she had just hailed. Share a cab with a beautiful woman or take the cab behind her and not piss him off? He shrugged. "You sure?"

She grinned, nodding her head towards the other cab, "you did hail a cab of your own ..."

"I think I'm better at sharing," he grinned, waving the cab off and gesturing for her to get in, he sliding in after. Two coffees and four hours later, he was in love.

"Hey, sleepy."

His eyes fluttered open, lifting his head away from the wall of the shower as he saw her silhouette behind the curtain, she giving him a sense of privacy. "I'm not sleeping in here," he murmured, "just, thinking."

"Well, could you do that out here? I don't want to have to explain to the paramedics why my boyfriend fell in the shower." She was chuckling slightly, her voice light.

Wiping the water that was cascading down his face as he peeked around the curtain, he watched her, she leaning up against the counter, watching and waiting. "You could come in here and think," he hinted, voice still low from tiredness, "I still want to be in here for a few more minutes."

"A few more minutes with me in there won't let you think much, baby."

"True," he responded, leaning his head against the wall once more as he fought the exhaustion behind his eyelidss as the hot water coaxed the lids down. He wanted to get out, wanted to so badly, but he was so tired ...

"Hey!"

He jumped slightly when he heard her voice startle him back to the land of the conscious, he looked over and seeing her smirking, now peeking into the curtain, hand holding onto it gently. "Come here," he murmured, reaching for her hand as she looked at him as if he were crazy. "What?"

"I'm clothed."

"Then dis ... clothe," he stated, she laughing at his lack of vocabulary in the state of exhaustion he was in. "I'm serious, Laur; get naked or just grab a pillow so if I fall I'll have some cushioning."

The curtain closed and he sighed deeply, jet lag really catching up to him quite quickly. Putting his head back onto the wall, he stared ahead, willing to keep his eyes open as long as he could. The water felt too good to leave it just yet, he used to the weak water pressure at every hotel he had been in for the last month and a half. She had so many body washes, so many shampoos, and then, in the corner, sat his soap, shampoo and a razor. Men were far too simple compared to women, he thought, closing his eyes and remembering the last time he had actually purchased shampoo. Purchased shampoo without being bombarded by cameras shoved in his face, questioning him what kind of shampoo he was using.

Do you have a dry scalp, JC?

Is your hair thick or thin?

Do you use conditioner?

He chuckled to himself. Since when had he bounced back to 1998? Were they going to ask him what kind of condom brand he used next?

Trojan. He was a Trojan Man.

He smirked. Magnum, bitches.

Cool air pricked at his skin, barely getting his eyes open when he felt her body envelope his, arms wrapping around him as he buried his face into her still mostly dry hair and inhaling deeply. Her nails were raking gently up and down his back as he arched into them, his body reacting on its own against the scraping on his skin. "I missed you," he murmured, mouth still against the top of her head as she pulled away, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, neck, jaw and then, finally, his mouth. "I missed you like crazy."

"I missed you, too," she responded, mouth still against his as she smiled. She continued to place feather-like kisses onto his skin, his head falling back against the wall once more as her mouth met the sweet spot on his neck, mouth dropping open slightly at the sensation that sparked through his entire body against her touch. Grinning against his skin, she pulled away, following his eyes down towards the offending suspect poking her. "Now, we can't have that," she said softly, looking back up and wrapping her arms around his neck, placing an open-mouthed kiss to his, he nipping at her mouth as she giggled. "We have to take care of that quickly," she said, looking in thought, "don't want the sauce to burn -"

"How long have we got?"

She creased her eyebrows, a slow smile forming on his face as she answered. "Twenty minutes?"

"Just enough time," he grinned, suddenly now more alert than ever, "for a quickie, anyway."

They were a mass of hands, mouths and teeth within that short moment's time, he turning quickly and pressing her to the wall, giving himself the leverage as a hand slowly slid down her body, touching the skin he longed to touch for so long. "God, I missed you."

She chuckled, reaching for his hand and lacing his fingers with hers as he lifted them above her head, the other slowly sliding around his shoulder as the opposite leg hitched onto his hip. A quiet gasp escaped her mouth as he grinned, his thickness entering her deliberate and slow. Lashes fluttering with water droplets, hair completely matted to her head, he made a mental note to himself: this, this was how he liked her most. Uninhibited, completely out of control and holding him tightly inside her. The very thought of the near suctioning hold she had on him was enough to make him come, but he couldn't, not yet. It had been too long, it had been way too long. His hand was not the proper tool to get him off, she was.

And he intended on screwing her properly.

"What are you smirking about?" She asked, her voice breaking him from his quiet thoughts. "You look like you've just thought something -"

"Another Chasez moment in my head," he said, biting his lip as he began to thrust, her groans turning him on even more. He felt her body tense against his, body connected to each and every crevice and curve of hers. A hand smoothed over her body, roaming over her stomach, breasts and thighs.

She sighed blissfully, back arching into him as a finger rolled her nipple, his head dropping and nipping and sucking on her skin, blowing cool hair to soothe the already reddening skin. "God, Jace, you feel so good," she murmured, feeling him grip her thigh and release her hold against his hip, blindly reaching for the faucet and shutting off the water valves, pulling the curtain away from them as the cool air met their flushed skin. Pressing a hard kiss to her mouth as they both stepped out, she cried out as he shoved her against the wall nearest the counter, picking her up swiftly and setting her on the counter, not once breaking the connection they had at the mouth.

His hands gripped her knees, parting them as he stepped closer to her, her ankles locking behind him and pulling him closer to her. He groaned when he felt her hand wrap around him, pushing him into the entrance, he slowly thrusting inward as she dropped her head to his shoulder, biting it as her body continued to get used to the feel of him inside of her after a short absence. It wouldn't be long for her, wouldn't be long before she - oh.

She moaned softly, his hand dropped between the two of them and gently making circles against her. "Like that, baby," he asked huskily, she unable to speak as she nodded. It wouldn't be long at all if he kept it up.

His head dropped back as he continued thrusting, her mouth at the hollow of his throat, teeth scraping the skin as she placed open-mouthed kisses, feeling his body tense. He was close. Just as close as she was. "Oh, God, Lauren," he murmured against her skin, he crying out as she tightened around him, she nearly collapsing against him, spent.

He smirked at her, eyes heavy and dark. "You know, we haven't messed your bed up in a while ..."

"JC," she laughed, sliding off the counter and placing a kiss to his mouth and then to his shoulder, "I can't burn that sauce. It'll be ruined ..."

"Fuck the sauce."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's what I'm for."

"Oh, you've got jokes," he chuckled, eyes following her as she grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body as he reached backward, grabbing her hand to stop her. "But seriously, forget the sauce."

"We won't have dinner if I forget about the sauce."

"I'll eat noodles, I don't give a damn," he murmured, pulling her against him and kissing her, tongue tracing the outline of her lips. "Fuck. The. Sauce."

"Such raunchy language," she tsked, kissing him once more. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Lauren," he whined, feeling as if he were a toddler trying to his way, barely catching himself before he stomped a foot. That, that would have been bad. "C'mon!"

"Give me a second!"

He sighed deeply, tired and spent, yet the growing erection that was below his line of vision was telling him otherwise: there was no sleep until he took care of business. And it tooked like it was going to be a solo business meeting.

Stepping back into her bedroom as he lie down, he closed his eyes, wrapping a hand firmly around his shaft and pumping slowly, letting fantasy take him away. It was he and Lauren in the living room up against the window, so risque that he was sure the elderly couple across the street saw them, the elderly couple in the home a couple blocks heard him. He didn't care. He had her against the wall, screaming his name and clenching him so tightly that he was damn sure he'd slide out of her longer.

He felt her crawl back onto the bed, eyes fluttering open slowly and slightly shamed she had caught him. "I thought you went downstairs to tend to the sauce," he mumbled, she freeing his hand from the vise-like grip he had on himself, beginning to object but closing his mouth when her own hand took over. "Thought the sauce was more important ..."

"The sauce is off the burner," she mumbled, he bucking his hips involuntarily as she straddled him, taking his whole length in one slowly movement. "And just like you said, fuck the sauce."

He groaned, gripping her hips as she rolled them against his, lifting and lowering her body in time with his own thrusts. "Yeah," he agreed, "fuck the sauce."