Buried way, deep in the back of the pantry, JC had the most pristine set of stainless steel and nonstick cooking utensils, skillets, pots, and pans I'd ever seen. Likely because neither he nor Tyler had ever used them, and despite his penchant for Top Chef, couldn't tell the difference between a sauce pan and a Dutch oven. Nonetheless, JC felt it was important to outfit his kitchen with high end products-- things other people would enjoy using when they cooked for him. He was so spoiled. Not a brat, just spoiled. And I loved spoiling him.

I dreamt all day about being in the kitchen, cooking. It was an activity that always relaxed me, and in the long, lonely months between my ex-fiancé Robert and JC, I took a series of cooking courses- Asian, American, Mexican, and Italian. The best part of cooking was having someone to eat the food. I could whip up anything in about an hour and JC (and Tyler and anyone else who happened to stop by unannounced and coincidentally hungry) could count on a heaping plate of something that smelled good and tasted better. Work was proving to be a stressor, so cooking was my way of relaxing. JC eating the food showed me he cared. Completely missing a meal hurt my feelings more than I let on but I was trying to let it go. He hated to hurt me on purpose, and I knew that. I also knew he felt badly enough about it that he'd never dare miss a second night.

Sure enough, the next night he was home and on time, posted up in the kitchen at the small, informal table.  Notebooks and CD cases nearly covered the space. JC slouched in a chair, his hands clasped and resting on his belly, watching me chop onions and peppers, slice lean beef sliver thin, and then sauté them together. The scent of garlic and onion and a sweet tang curled through the kitchen while I cooked and he watched and I talked about the progress I made during the few minutes of break from a harrowingly stressful day. I was impressed with myself-- I could get a lot done when I was given the power and I had enough drive. Sending JC on this tour was all the drive I needed.

"So here's what Eric and I thought..." I tossed handfuls of rice noodles into a gorgeous, never used, stainless steel wok. For someone who loved Chinese food, how had he never used his wok? "We probably don't need t-shirts and stickers and posters quite yet. Those will take time and money to print and we don't have much of either, right now." I stirred with one hand, counting off my fingers on the other. "You know people will want pictures. You know people will want music. We concentrate on those two and see how many people ask for the other stuff. I mean, is that how you guys would have done it, back in the beginning?"

"I dunno." He mumbled, playing with a pen, rolling it back and forth along the wired rings of his notepad. The sound was driving me out of my mind, but I considered it to be a nervous tick and let it go. We had more important things to deal with. "Back in the day, it was low rent. Lance worked at this screen-print shop so he got us a discount on t-shirts and our moms designed our flyers and stuff. I mean, I'm kind of past that, I think. People expect more, even though it's just me."

I nodded, agreeing. He was right. We couldn't just Photoshop something together. He still had a reputation to think about. "What do you think we should focus on, then?"

JC shrugged, now tapping the pen against the wire. I glanced over at him through the steam billowing from the wok and the skillet. He was haggard, almost pale except for a scratchy, haphazard beard. His eyes were dull, his face listless. His expression said he was bored, from the tip of his head to the soles of his feet.

I stopped stirring, removing the wok from the heat, pouring the meat and vegetables on top of the noodles and tossing them together with a pair of tongs.

"I'm just asking what you prefer. You know what you like, and I don't want to hear any complaining when what you get doesn't turn out to be what you thought you wanted.  You've been here before, I haven't. You have opinions. Shout 'em out. You won't hurt my feelings."

JC sat up and tried harder to pay attention, leaning forward onto his elbows. Out of the corner of my eye, I tracked him watching me, moving across the kitchen with ease. "I'm tired," he said, adding a loud, long yawn. "Been up since 5am." His mouth had twisted into a sly grin when I turned around. "Besides, this conversation would be way more exciting if you were naked under my apron."

I looked down at myself-I wore an oversized t-shirt and yoga pants under an apron that had been hanging on a hook in the pantry. True, I didn't look all that sexy, but JC hadn't ever been picky about what I wore. He quoted Shakira's "Underneath Your Clothes" often on days when I apologized for looking frumpy.

"You didn't seem to have any problems uhm... performing...at 5am. And hey-" I shook the tongs at him from across the room. "I'm working for you right now. Don't... sexually harass me, sir."

"Or what?" His voice, though tired and quiet, had an edge to it. A cocky, sexy edge that caught me off guard. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were shooting sparks at me. I lost my train of thought. And my breath. 

"Or... uhm...."

"Uh huh." He laughed, an evil little chuckle that said he knew what I was thinking about. And that he was thinking about it, too. He stretched his arms up above him, reaching toward the ceiling, coming alive. Then dropped them to the table. "Uhm... okay. I think that's a good idea. It'll be hard enough to get pictures and music done. I don't want to think about anything else right now. No key chains and things like that. Embarrassing."

I giggled, giving our meal one last toss with the tongs. "No chap stick? No JC Chasez hair brushes and pens and water bottles?"

"You know what? Tyler has one of those pillow cases with my face on it. When he wants to piss me off, he brings it out to the living room and lays on it, but first he has to like, punch it a few times, you know? He says he needs to get the pillow just right." He stopped to laugh, because I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. "Odd how it's just in that exact place all the time. Right over my face."

I kept laughing, all the way through pulling plates and glasses from the cabinets and silverware from the drawers. JC got up and picked up the glasses and silverware and carried them to the two spots he'd cleared at the table. I plated two gorgeous dishes of stir fried beef and noodles, a pretty simple dish that had been a staple for me when I lived alone. I handed JC his plate and picked up mine but before I could turn around, I felt him behind me, close and stepping closer, pushing me up against the cabinet.

"What are you doing?" I asked, giggling as I felt his hips push into me from behind.

"Saying hi." He dipped his head to the side, pulled my hair around to my other shoulder and laid an open mouthed, wet, sloppy kiss on my cheek. "Thank you for dinner, sweet girl. It smells good. I can't wait to eat."

I blushed, for no real reason at all, just that sometimes he could be so unexpectedly sweet, in the plainest of ways. His words and his presence meant more to me than anything he could ever buy me or show me. I wished I could get him to understand that-- but like a man, he was a do-er. He showed his affection with actions and things. Someday, we'd learn to meet in the middle. But not that day and not over stir fry. My stomach rumbled loudly against the countertop.

"You're welcome," I wheezed, "But I can't breathe and mama needs to eat!"

He laughed and stepped back, took my plate from me and headed to the table. "Maybe some wine?" He tipped his head toward the small wine cellar off of the pantry. I picked a bottle of rice wine, two more glasses from the cabinet, and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I would need it, so I didn't get too drunk.

We ate, alternately discussing the only task on his list-- pick out music-- and my list of tasks that had to be accomplished before he left for the weekend, and then in the three days before he joined the tour.

"I wish you could be there, this weekend." JC had cleaned half of his plate and was working on the second half. "You sure you can't come?"

I shook my head, sad to have to say no. "I'm already swamped. Maybe without you here to distract me, I can make a dent in my list. I'll have to work all weekend. And then you're back Sunday night and we have to get you ready to leave again Wednesday."

"Well... maybe I'll get to come home a few times."

"Nope," I said, shaking my head again. "I checked the schedule. Shows every weekend. An occasional day off here and there. Not worth it to come all the way home." JC pouted, looking disappointed. "We lived across the country from each other for a year. Don't you think we can do a month?"

"Because we had to. It's been awhile since I had to be without you."

"Awwww." I reached over and tousled his hair, running my fingers through dry curls piled atop his head. "You'll be okay. You'll be having so much fun you won't even miss me."

"You sound like you won't miss me," he said, his bottom lip creeping out, deepening his frown.

"I might not. Depends on how much you annoy me between now and next week. Now," I went back to our checklist, of which not even half of the items had been crossed off. "So, you need to call in a favor to that photographer guy you know. The one that does all the Hollywood parties. So you can have new headshots for autographs and also for your CD insert--"

JC's head popped up, his eyes open wide. "Who's doing art for that? I haven't even thought of that. Shit-"

"JC. Relax. It's my job to freak out over that, okay?" I smiled, soothing him with a hand down his arm. He rubbed his forehead back and forth, nodding. "Besides, I got it covered. Eric and I talked about it today. He can get them done and printed in a hurry but we need the picture to go inside. All you have to do is show up for the hair appointment, put on the clothes and go to the photo shoot. Okay? We got it handled."

"Okay. Okay."

"Okay," I confirmed, rubbing his back.

"Don't mock me," he said quietly.

"You'll know when I'm mocking you," I answered back. "I think that's enough stressing out for one night, huh? Are you finished?" I glanced down at his bare plate, almost licked clean. "I meant... did you want anymore?"

He shook head, downing the last of his glass of wine, then picking up the bottle, my glass and his and walking out of the kitchen. "Come on. Leave the kitchen until later. Let's watch a movie."

I shrugged, knowing there was no way I'd be energetic enough to clean up later, mentally apologizing to Maggie for the mess I was bound to leave her. "I swore I wouldn't become this person," I muttered to myself, walking out of the kitchen and following JC to the living room where he was already lounging on the couch with a glass of wine, bouncing from channel to channel.

I tapped him on the leg, so he would move over. "Can I get in here? Or sit anywhere near you, couch hog?"

Instead of moving over, he opened his legs and invited me to lay between them. It wouldn't be long before I missed these chances to hang out with him, to just sit with him and feel him breathing or his heartbeat under my cheek. I needed to soak up all I could get from him, so I shrugged and plopped down on the couch, leaning back against him. I accepted another glass of wine from him and sipped while watching the master work the remote control.

JC flipped through the HD movie channels-- the one at the higher end of the cable lineup that I had never even seen. "Ooh," he said, as he flipped past a bare breast, and then flipped back. "What's that?"

I laughed, recognizing the faint logo in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "You have Cinemax, JC?!"

I could feel his body temperature rising from the blush in his skin. "Do I?" His voice was so uncomfortably high pitched that he squeaked. "I just got the movie package."

"Give me that." I grabbed the remote from him and pulled up the Channel Guide. "Uhm, Playboy isn't a part of any movie package, Chasez."

"My girlfriend used to live across the country from me. I can't help that I'm horny a lot. Turn it back."

I rolled my eyes at him but flipped it back to a wonderfully scripted but terribly acted film. We laughed at the wooden dialogue and awkward staging. "Jesus," JC joked. "Am I in this movie? That's how bad it is. These two don't even look at each other unless it's a sex scene."

"The sex scenes aren't anything to write home about, either. We've had more exciting quickies."

"That's ‘cause you're a nympho," he said, but dipped his head to brush his lips against my earlobe and then, ever so gently, bit down.

I shooed him with a hand, but didn't try very hard to stop him. "Why are you always biting me?"    

"Mmmm...." The sound rumbled in his chest, through my back and down my body. "You taste good. And I'm trying to get you going."

"You're doing a good job."

"Hmmm?" He dropped the remote and both hands crawled beneath the hem of my t-shirt. He'd been working with the guitar heavily, and without the pic so the calluses on his fingers were fresh and rough, sending white hot sparks of fire over the surface of my skin. His fingers danced lightly over the lace in my bra, picking out the hardening nubs of my nipples and flicking them with his thumbs. 

I relaxed against him, my head falling into the dip between his neck and shoulder, my eyes sliding closed. In my ear was the sound of JC humming-something random but beautiful-and the couple on the TV having, for once, a loud, boisterous session. Was I really watching porn with JC and getting ready to imitate art in a most delicious way?

Yes. Yes I was. And something told me JC was in on it.

One hand left my nipple and crept south, past the loose elastic band of my pants and then past the band of the matching lace. By instinct- and of course, need-my legs opened to allow him access. For a man with large, strong hands, he was always so gentle and light. A feather-weight to his touch, he stroked and circled and stroked some more, working my hips into frenzy. My chest heaved with deep breaths; my nails dug into his skin through his jeans as I clutched his thighs and rode his fingers.

"Let it go," he said into my ear, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. His heart was slamming through his chest and into my back, the rhythm of mine matching almost beat for beat. Beneath me, his hips ground into the small of my back, a long hard column straining against the thick denim.

"I'm coming! Don't stop!"

Between shallow gulps of air and short yelps of intense pleasure, my hips bucked uncontrollably under his power. Relentless, his fingers didn't stop moving until my hips settled against him again and I wiggled out from between his legs. I hadn't even caught my breath yet, but I sat up and turned around, on my knees and pulled at the band of his jeans. In one tug, they unsnapped and the zipper fell, revealing a threadbare pair of blue boxers.

"Whatever happened to that whole rumor about you throwing away your underwear after you wore them once? These look a few years old, and I seem to wash a lot of them when I do laundry."

"I stopped doing that after people started selling them. Creeps me out. Plus, I'm spoiled. If I don't have to wash ‘em, I don't care. I'll wear ‘em again."

I just shook my head. Yep. Spoiled. Almost a brat. I tugged at them, and his jeans, forcing him to raise his hips and kick out of them. Wasting no time, I went for him, wrapping a hand around the shaft and whipping my tongue around the soft, sensitive head before taking the plunge and sinking down on him. JC slouched further into the couch, his hips arching him up and further into my mouth. I hummed, stroking him, moving steadily with increasing pressure, exactly how he liked it. He groaned above me, his fingers in my hair, pulling it back from my face so he could watch me work him. In minutes, he was shaking, trying to hold back, eking every last second.

"Comin'," he grunted through clenched teeth, his entire body stiffening. I sucked him in deep, just in time to feel his release his my throat, pumping and squeezing until he fell back against the cushion, his skin flushed a deep raspberry red, his chest glistening with sweat, his mouth slack and sucking in air, his eyes closed, lush lashes laying against damp cheeks.

I crawled him, slowly making my way up- over the abs he never let anyone but me see, the well formed chest covered in manly hair, the dip in his neck where his heartbeat still pulsed, toward the strong, square jaw and plump, soft lips where my own lips landed and brushed against his once, twice, three times until he responded and kissed me back. His arms regained their strength and closed around me, hugging me tightly to him.

In the background, the movie had finished and another started, just as badly acted. Neither of us was watching, but while we were wrapped up in each other, we were quiet and couldn't help but hear. We laughed at more wooden dialogue and thinly veiled plot scenes leading toward wanton sexual encounters.

"People pay for this stuff?"

"Oh, of course Serena has never paid for porn, before. She's so sweet and innocent-Ow!" JC lurched as I snaked my hand between us, found an inch to pinch and twisted it. 

"That's what you get. I pay for good porn, sir." I sat up and then stood, holding out my hand to him. "And thanks to my super hot, super sexy boyfriend, my real life tops any porn I could buy. Take me upstairs."

"I'm tired," he said, lying back in just a t-shirt, his jeans and boxers in a crumple on the floor, bare ass on the couch and front of him fully exposed. "Be up in a minute."

"You realize you're leaving in a few days, right?"

"Uh huh," he said, staring past me at the TV.

"Enough." I dove into the couch, dug out the remote, and pointed it at the TV. Suddenly the room was silent. I tossed the remote onto the coffee table, the plastic bouncing across the wood with a clatter and sliding onto the carpeted floor.

"You break my shit, I'll take it out of your ass."

"You'd have to get up, first. Come on. Stop teasing."

Slowly, he sat up, stretching his arms out wide, scratching his head, and then running his fingers through his hair, back and forth. His hair stood on end, making him look the tiniest bit crazy, coupled with his disheveled beard.

"You know what, JC?" I bent over him, my face inches from his. I kissed him, lightly, and then stood up. "I am... what do you call me? A Marketing Goddess? I see your popularity in the bedroom department declining sharply. Reponses to future advances may be lackluster at best. I suggest an aggressive recovery strategy, otherwise you may see a severe downturn in approval of your uhm... product." I wiggled my brows at him... and walked away.

Behind me, I heard a scuffle and then a whoosh of air brushed past me. I glanced up to watch a pale, bare naked ass atop a pair of similarly pale, spindly legs rushing up the stairs, taking a few at a time.

I chuckled to myself, turning out lights as I walked through the hallways, and then took my time climbing the stairs. "I am a genius," I mumbled to myself as I reached the bedroom, turned the knob and walked inside.

###

A few nights later, the night before JC would be leaving for San Diego, Eric and I held an impromptu Focus Group session at the dining room table. More a game of ‘this or that', we passed around potentials for headshots, official set lists, and templates for CD covers and labels. Tyler, Allison, Lara and her boyfriend Mike, and Eric came for dinner and then offered their opinions on the best options. With JC at his last rehearsal before his show, I hoped we would have better opportunities for real opinions, not just telling JC what he wanted to hear.

"Ken did a good job on the pictures on such short notice." Lara picked four out of the stack of hurriedly produced laser prints of JC in various clothes, dressed up and down. "I'd say any of these would be great. Eyes are gorgeous. His hair is weird in the other two. People will pick on it."

I nodded, making a note on the back of each, taking the rest of the stack and setting them aside. I agreed-at some point during the shoot, a cowlick stood up and in their hurry to get the job done, no one at the studio noticed.

Tyler and Allison thumbed through CD labels and cover templates, discussing between them which they liked better. Eventually it was decided that less was more and a simple, two page insert with a song listing and credits looked and presented better than a cluttered, multi paged one. It would also be less expensive and would print much faster.

"So, these are gonna be classy, right? Glossy paper, no cheap print? It won't look like some guy did it for his high school Graphic Arts final?"

"Right," Eric said. "I've done this before, Tyler. I know what I'm doing." Tyler grunted and rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

Mike pointed at a CD label design that was baby blue, listing JC's name and then each song title in a continuous circle around the edge. "I like that one. It's plain but still artistic. And if you're going with those photos..." He pointed at the stack I held in my hands. "And that cover art, it goes perfectly."

"And these'll be ready next week?" Tyler, again, pointed his question at Eric.

He nodded, calm but his jaw was twitching. "As soon as we've decided the best options, we send them to the printers. They'll start pressing as soon as we approve the proofs and they won't stop until they're done. They should ship by Tuesday, easy. But that means that they won't arrive here until Wednesday, so either I need to stay behind-"

"I'll take ‘em," Tyler said, with a resolute nod.

Surprised, Allison's head popped up from her concentrated study of each option. "You will?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "Don't you have to work?"

"I'll take the afternoon off. It's Phoenix, right?" Eric nodded, as did I. "It's three hours from here. I'll grab them, drive them right to him."  Allison looked like she wanted to argue-her mouth opened, but then closed quickly after Tyler shot her a glare.  "Al, it's my brother's first tour gig in forever. You don't think I'm missing it, do you? I need-we need Eric there making sure Josh is taken care of."

"I didn't...I wasn't saying you'd miss it. I wasn't suggesting it. But maybe, if you thought about going, you could have talked to me so I could have taken a couple of days off and gone with you. Apparently, this is a Chasez only party, though. So, go. Have fun."

The mood was uncomfortable, the air thick with tension. I'd never seen them argue before. Well. Almost argue. I felt guilty that I couldn't just take the afternoon off and go and make sure the littlest details were taken care of. I felt better knowing that Tyler would at least be there to support him, but it felt a little bit like sending JC out into the world alone, though he'd been there many times before.

"It's not... we can talk later." Tyler tried to slip his hand between hers but she pulled back.

"I'm just tired, I guess. I need to go home. The dog is probably eating my shoes."

She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek and slid out from her chair. The motion alarm beeped and the porch light turned on as the front door opened and then closed. In the silence of the room, I heard Allison's car start and back out of the driveway.

Lara looked over at me, her eyes full of wonder, and a smirk on her lips. Trouble in paradise, perhaps? I had no time to investigate, though I was curious as hell about it.

Eric cleared his throat and reached toward the prints and templates that made the final cut. "Uh, Serena. You'll want to note the numbers we chose so we can email them in the morning with our options and they can get going right away. I have a few things yet to sort out before we leave tomorrow, so I've got to get going."

"Yeah, don't want to be late for that party you're dragging AJ and Chase to." Tyler grinned ear to ear, but his eyes revealed his true intent. His sarcasm did not go unnoticed. Eric locked his jaw, stood and pushed his chair in, nodded at me and walked out.

As soon as he was gone, I crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it at Tyler. It bounced off of his head and landed on the floor. "What? I'm wrong? That guy does nothing for JC."

"We all know that, asshole. But JC likes him, so we deal with him."

"I don't. And that's all I have to say. It's beer o' clock." With that he pushed away from the table and stomped through the kitchen to the refrigerator.

"Hey, what was that with Al? You guys aren't fighting, are you?"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head, wiping down a bottle of Bud light with a paper towel and tossing the towel into the garbage pail. "She just gets in a mood, lately. That's why I'm home. We need some time apart. She'll call when she gets home, and apologize for acting like a bitch, and then we'll be fine." He shrugged, chugged half of his beer, and belched into the air. "Ahhh, that's good."

"You're so... manly. You kiss your mom with that mouth?"

"Yep. She loves me, unconditionally. We done?"  I nodded. "Great. Going to my room. Guess I'll rub one out, since my girlfriend went home."

"Tyler..." I sighed. There was no use. He said things for shock factor. It was his way. Lara giggled and Mike seemed unfazed. Obviously, they'd known him longer.

Long after I saw Lara and Mike out the door and spent a few hours catching up on the work I should have been doing while I was making JC's friends and family stare at pictures of him, the floor rumbled with the opening and closing of the garage door. Heavy, tired feet plodded up the stairs and toward the light in the dining room where I still sat in my work clothes, bent over the laptop.

JC stopped in the middle of the kitchen and stared at me while I stared at him. His face said he was made of pure exhaustion, inside and out. I had a feeling that mine matched.

"You look beat," he said, his voice weak and tired.

"Not yet," I offered, with a wry grin. He smiled, rolled his eyes and turned toward the refrigerator. "If you're hungry, there's a plate in the oven. I made pizza."

"You made pizza?" He reached for the oven door and flipped it open, reached in and pulled out the plate piled with two wide, thick slices of New York style pizza. Sort of a specialty-I worked hard to get it just right and then never wavered from the recipe. On purpose, I'd made his favorites that week. A little touch of comfort.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" At least I think that's what he said, around the mesh of bread and sauce and cheese and pepperoni.

"Once or twice. Here..." I patted the seat next to me. "Wolf that down a little closer to me. Thirsty?"

He nodded, sitting next to me, biting into the slice again. I got up to grab a bottle of water for him, uncapped it and set it next to him.  He sucked half of it down and went back to his pizza. "More work?"

I nodded. "Although... do you want to see what we picked out for your headshots and stuff?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nope. I trust your judgment. And Lara's. You guys would never pick ugly pictures."

Blink. My head almost exploded, trying to imagine JC as ugly. "Sweetie, I don't.... I don't think ugly is possible."

He rolled his eyes, smiling around the last bit of crust from the first piece as he shoved it into his mouth. "You know what I mean. If you like it, I love it. Send it. Let's get this show on the road."

"Alright, then. Thanks for your trust. It means a lot to me."

"Welcome. Don't let me down."

I thought he was kidding and almost laughed. Turned out he wasn't. I gulped down my chuckle and inhaled, deeply. I could fail at every single job that Taylor had assigned to me, but if I failed JC, I would be devastated. To me, working for him-with him-was a fun side project. To him, this was his life. I held his career in my hands.

"Don't look so scared," he said. Gently. Softly. He laid a hand on top of mine, playing with the nail on my index finger, then picking it up and bringing it to his mouth. I thought he was going to be sweet and kiss me. Instead he wiped the pizza grease from around his mouth onto the back of my hand. I sucked in a sharp breath and yanked my hand back. He rocked in his seat and laughed and laughed.

"You're such a fuckin' bastard. Asshole." I got up and ripped a paper towel from its holder under a cabinet, next to the sink, scrubbed the grease away. "I see where Tyler gets his bad habits from."

"Is he here? I haven't seen him in like, a month."

"Yeah. He and Allison are uh... spending a night apart."

"Oh really?" He turned around, hanging an arm off the back of the chair, working his shoes off, one by one with his toes. "I'm not surprised. He can a bit much."

"No kidding. All belchy and... gross." I tossed the towel into the garbage and went back to the table. I started shutting down the computer and piling my manuals and books in a stack next to it. I'd be back at the table the following night trying not to think about being in San Diego.

"You get enough to eat?"

He nodded, patting a full, round belly.

"Well, then. You know what they say about men. There's two ways to make them happy. Feed ‘em or fuck ‘em. Since you just ate..." I shrugged, and held a hand out to him. He just laughed, and shook his head, slowly. No?

"I kind of have a couple of things I want to take care of before I head up. Tomorrow?"

"No," I whined. "I work tomorrow. Is this a new game? Why do I have to beg you for sex, lately?"

"Why are you so needy, lately?"

I think my eyes just about bugged out of my head and I took a step back, my hand catching the table and leaning onto it for support. Needy?

"I'm... I'm not needy. I love you. I love being with you. All of you. I always have... this isn't new. This thing... where you'd rather work than be with me? This is what's new."

"Serena..." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm tired. And I have a lot to get done in a short amount of time. I'm focused. It's not that you're not on my mind. It's not that I don't want you, because I do. I just... need to work through this stuff, right now." He stared up at me, trying to apologize with his eyes. "You want me to wake you up, when I come up there?"

"No." I sighed, too, pushing my chair in and walking past him. "I have to get up at 5-"

He reached out, catching my arm as I brushed past him. "Baby, don't go to bed mad at me-"

I whipped around, moving his hand away. "I'm not mad, JC. I understand. I'm just... I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late. You know how your voice gets all..." His eyes started to roll, then. I was mothering. And needy, apparently. I bit back the rest of my comment and padded out of the kitchen.

"Love you," he called, from the chair he never even got out of, not even to stand up and kiss me goodnight.

"You too," I called back, from the stairs.

Up in our bedroom, I peeled off my clothes. More numb than anything, I reviewed myself and my thoughts and my behavior. I felt like I'd been Superwoman that week. Cooking meals from scratch. Trying to be there for him. Pulling marketing and publicity materials for him out of thin air. Writing press releases, begging favors from friends and family, all while starting a new, very demanding job and still-STILL-wanting to be with him and available to him. That wasn't needy, to me. I was a goddamned saint.

I recognized this. This was JC being nervous. This was JC lashing out at the closest thing possible. This was JC, for once, being selfish and self absorbed and thinking only about himself. Which, for once, was great. But not at the expense of me and my feelings. Sometimes I wondered how he'd made it years and years with girls like Bobbi. Then again, eventually they split up. I wondered who got sick of whom first.

I hopped into the shower, hoping JC would change his mind and join me. After a few minutes, when there was no burst of cold air and a man taking up all the space in the largest shower I'd ever been in, I quickly lathered and rinsed and got out. I headed to the bedroom through the closet, threw off my towel and padded, naked, into the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed with the bottle of my favorite thick cream, missing my old vanity from home. My entire bedroom set, in all its familiar comfort was still collecting dust in a storage unit in Atlanta. Eventually I'd have to bring it to LA-to put it where, though? JC's house was already packed with things. There was no sense in doubling up and besides... I hadn't committed to living with JC for an extended period of time. I was trying not to get comfortable in his house, among his things. Moving to LA still had to be about me. Changing my perspective and point of view and way of life.

JC wouldn't like that, probably. Well. I didn't like being called needy. I'd show him who wasn't needy.

I began my nightly routine, rubbing lotion into my skin, starting from my rough, sore feet, achy from standing in heels most of the day, now. It had been months since I'd had to wear proper shoes. I made a note to ask Lara about the shoes she wore-she walked around for 8 hours for a living. I needed a recommendation or my feet were going to fall off. I rubbed them, making my way up to the ankles, which were swollen and tight.

The bedroom door opened, suddenly. My head popped up and, surprisingly, JC came through it and closed it softly behind him. He smiled over at me, bent over my feet, walked toward me and dropped a kiss on top of my head.

"I'm an ass. I know you agree; no need to say it out loud."

I stared up him, pretty well just speechless. He straightened and headed toward the closet, peeling off clothes and dropping the shoes he'd carried from downstairs. "Gonna hit the shower, real quick," he called from inside the closet. "Save some of that lotion thing for me. Last chance I can do it for awhile."

I smiled to myself, listening to the water spurting from the faucet, splashing around as he washed, and then rinsed, and then the water turning off. The other sounds of his bedtime routine gave me a timeline-brushing his teeth, fiddling with his hair, cleaning out his ears. And then the door opened again and he came out of the closet, naked and still slightly damp.

He smiled, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, then reaching for the bottle of lotion. "Assume the position."

"Spoon?"

"The other one."

"Oh. Face down, ass up."

"That one," he said, laughing as I rolled over, onto my stomach, moved my hair so he had access to my full body, and relaxed. "It rubs the lotion on his skin, or else it gets the hose again...."

I smiled, but my head was turned, so he couldn't see. "That has never been funny, JC."

"Then why are you smiling? Hm? You think I'm funny."

What I thought he was, was an angel, mercifully, slathering me with cold cream and massaging it into my skin with strong, large hands. It took him forever, but it was the best feeling in the world.

"I refuse to dignify that with a response, on the grounds that you will keep saying that and think it's funny."

"It is funny. You just don't know it. You mad at me?"

"Hmm-mmm."

"No?" His hands stopped moving for a few moments, until I made a whining sound and kicked my legs in protest. He started back up again, much to my delight. "Serious?"

"No. I mean... you're under a lot of stress, right now. I get it. I wish you didn't lash out at me, while you're unwaveringly nice to people that don't give as much of a shit about you.... But whatever."

"So you are mad at me..."

"No-" I flipped my head so I could see him. While he worked he bent his head so he could see me, see my face. I wore my mood on my face, all over it. He knew, by looking at me, that I wasn't mad. "I'm not mad. I'm hurt, though. I feel like I put in a lot of work for you this week and I don't need recognition, or anything like that, just...I don't know... needy hurt my feelings."

JC's face clouded over and he looked away, concentrating on the backs of my thighs and working his way up. He was quiet, all the way until he reached my shoulders and began a slow, sensuous rub, his fingers digging gently into my back.

"So, needy was the wrong word, I guess. I didn't mean that."

"Well, what did you mean?"

"Something like... insatiable. I guess." He chuckled. "That has never been a problem before, I know. And it shouldn't be a problem now. I get that I'm leaving and you want to soak up a lot of time with me... I just don't have a lot of time to soak up and I feel... I don't know, it stresses me out to think I'm not spending enough time with you."

"Okay. You could just say that, instead of calling me needy."

"I know. I just... lashed out-"

"Which goes back to you being mean to me because you know I'll forgive you, and not to people that actually piss you off."

"Serena-" His voice was sharp and gruff and deep. His fingers tightened around my shoulders and then a second later, loosened. "Turn over. So I can do the other side."

I obeyed and flipped, watching him start again at my feet and working his way up. He was very dedicated to making sure he touched every inch of skin. He owed me-I didn't stop him.

"It's just that... before... you weren't here. You came every few months, for a week or a weekend. It was easy to push things around for a short amount of time. Move a couple of things a week or so out, cancel an appearance, turn down some work. It was worth it. You're here now and I feel like I spoiled you with a lot of attention, before. You think we can go to bed together every night, and you're hurt when we can't. You think we can have dinner together every night and if I have to miss a meal-now, I know the other night was different. We had a date." He read my mind, since my mouth had opened to protest. After he fixed his statement, I closed it.

"I'm just saying it's harder to move work around, now. I'm used to working a lot. Even though I had a girlfriend, I could work all day and then all night. It's different now and I'm still adjusting, so us being together every night, like we were when we were on vacation is awesome. It's just unrealistic, unless we're talking 4 or 5am. Which is when you get up."

"Okay." I nodded, leaning back on my shoulders. Hearing and understanding and yet not really understanding. "What would you like me to do, then? Wait for you to initiate? Plan to only be intimate with you from 3 to 6 am? I'm being serious. What's the solution? Because going without doesn't do either of us any good."

"You're right. Honey, I... I don't know what the solution is. Not yet. We'll find it." He set the bottle of lotion onto the floor and sat on the bed next to me. Though he was done with his massage, being near me meant touching me, so he reached out and laid a hand on my belly, working his thumb back and forth. 

"But... something you said the other night.... Reminded me of my therapy appointment."

I perked, remembering that he'd had an appointment and never talked about it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. We... talked some about my mom. The feelings I have about what happened, and the things I go through right now. She feels like I'm not unusual, you know? My issues are classic, typical, adopted kid, abandonment issues that we all work through. Then we... we started talking about my relationships. And you." He paused, inhaling a deep breath.

"And uhm... what she said was what you just said... I take things out on you that I mean for other people. I cling to you because my mom left me. And I never did that with a girl I was dating, before. Usually she clung to me, because I meant, maybe, some kind of escape, to her. And when I didn't turn out to be the Prince Charming I guess she thought I should be..." he shrugged, his voice trailing off and then picking back up.  "You remember when we first met, and I used to tell you that I never did things like pick a girl up on airplanes and sleep with her?"

He grinned, looking back at me. I laughed, remembering. "Yeah that was a giant, steaming pile of bullshit."

"You knew that was kinda not true, huh?"

"Kinda? How kinda not true was it, JC?"

He laughed, blushing. "Totally, kinda not true. I was a bit of a whore for awhile. I mean, it had been... months maybe... since my last random hookup, but I didn't want you to feel like a random hookup."

"I didn't," I said to him.

"I just... the other night, you said that certain things that I do keep you from thinking about a future with me. It kills me that every once in a while I dip back into the old me and I get selfish and I act like a brat because that's what I'm used to. With my old girlfriends, because they catered to it. I wanted to be different with you. And it freaks me out that the one woman I dream about a future with, doesn't dream about a future, with me. Do you?" He stared me down, his eyes digging into my soul, looking for the truth. I knew he could see it all over my face.  I didn't even think I needed to say it, but he waited for an answer.

"You know, JC...From the minute I met you, my life has been unbelievable. I hadn't had sex in over a year. I was very much into my job. I wasn't looking for anyone, or anything because the last thing I'd looked for and wanted got me in a world of hurt. So when this hot piece of ass sat next to me on the plane?" I chuckled and rolled my head. "I wasn't thinking at all. And I'm still not. I just take it day by day, honey. I still feel like I'm living some kind of ultimate fan fantasy, most days. I don't, honestly, think about much past a few weeks from now. I don't hope about it, I don't dream about it, I don't let myself want it. Because... I guess that makes it real. And when it becomes real, I want it more than anything, and JC if it goes away, it'll kill me. I can't... I just..."

"Well, that's what we talked about. About me clinging to you and trying to, I guess, rope you into a future with me, when I need to let you grow into that and feel secure in that. I need to trust that you're not going anywhere and I need to prove to you that a year from now, three years, seven years, that I'm there for you. I want you to know that, beyond a doubt."

"I do know that, JC-"

"You don't, Serena. You don't, if you can't seriously wrap your mind around being with me in the long term. You don't know that and you don't believe it. And I need you to. And... I'm scared about going away, for awhile. Like I've said before, there are lots of guys out there that can be at dinner every night at 7 and can take you to a movie and go shopping with you or even take a walk through a park with you. I can't. So, I try to make that up in other ways but it'll never be that way for us. Especially not right now."

"Whoever said I wanted the guy that came home at 5:00 every night with his briefcase, in his Brooks Brother's suit and wing tip shoes?  That's your nightmare... why would I want to turn you into him? Whoever said I wanted to be waiting at the door in an apron, holding a high ball for him in one hand and a cigar for him in the other? So you're not the typical boyfriend. I'm not the typical girlfriend. That means we're a match made in heaven, huh?"

I stretched up to kiss him, my lips lingering on his. "You put way too much pressure on yourself, in every aspect. You expect great things from you, and when you don't deliver what you think you should, you take it out on everyone. Including me. I can take it... but not a whole lot of it. You have to find ways of dealing with things where I'm not your punching bag. Because that? I won't put up with."

"You shouldn't have to."

"Nope. And as far you worrying about me going away?" I grabbed his chin between my thumb and finger and looked him in the eye, making sure he could see mine. "Don't. I'm not interested in being with anybody else. I know you're worried about... us... and all I can say is that every day, I do a little better than the day before. But I do much better when you don't push. Okay?"

He nodded vigorously, agreeing quietly. "Okay. I didn't mean to bring it up again. I just... I meant to apologize for this whole week. I don't want to screw this up. I need you."

"I need you, too. And you're not screwing it up. Yet. But what do you say you be a good boy and get into bed with me?"

He smiled, a slow, sexy grin quickly crossing his lips. "I say you never use sex as a reward."

"How about you were getting lucky anyway, so get over here?" I sat up, reached over and grabbed him by the forearms, pulling him toward and on top of me. He came easily, allowing himself to be dragged across the bed. As he settled on top of me, I wrapped my legs around his and my arms around his neck, relishing the feel of his lips on me, his bare skin against mine.

"I love you. You're amazing and wonderful and I would be lost without you. Those are the things I should have said, all week long. I'm sorry that I've put things ahead of you and I'm sorry that I push so hard. I can't leave town with you mad at me."

I lifted my head up to kiss him and then relaxed again. "I'm not mad. I love you, too. And you're forgiven. And don't stop pushing. I know I don't deserve you and yet you want me anyway. I'm working on accepting that and letting myself think past, like... Thanksgiving. For starters."

He laughed. "That's a good start, honey."

"Shut up," I argued, laughing. "It's different when you've always been wanted. Not when you're the one who's always wanted someone."

"I want you. Just think about that, okay?" He brushed my hair back from my forehead, softly. Tender, with a feather light touch.

"I will. Every day. JC?" He looked at me, his eyebrows raised in question. I looked up at him with as much love as I could muster up. "Make love to me. Slow. Make it last."

Slowly, quietly, with deep, sensuous movements and heavy breaths, we clung to each other. Two bodies were one, each writhing against the other, feeding off of one another, bit by bit climbing higher until we reached the same pinnacle of climax, as the same time.

Even more exhausted than before, JC collapsed on top of me and panted into my chest until his breaths were long and a deep, steady rhythm. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and, exhausted myself, closed my eyes against the overhead lamp and slipped into sleep.

###

"Okay, well. I'm going. Drive safely, okay? Take your time, drink lots of water, relax-"

"Yes, mommy." He smirked, bending to kiss me goodbye. JC got up with me, watched me get dressed and pack my lunch and then decided he'd walk me to my car, wearing nothing but boxer shorts, hanging out of the doorway between the house and the garage. My boyfriend was nothing if not amusing.

"I love you. Call me. Often."

"I will. Have a good day. Don't bring home a lot of work."

I ducked into my car and glared at him. "Yeah, right. Get in the house, so I can open the garage door. I don't want the world to see what I'm workin' with." I pointed, waving a finger around at his boxers and a hint of him peeking out of the hole.

He glanced down, blushed, and stepped back inside the house. He waved one last time and then closed the door behind him. I sighed, starting the car and pressing the button to lift the garage door.

I honestly hoped JC had fun over the weekend. It would be the first of what I hoped was many, many shows. And honestly, a chance for me to get out from under him and establish my own life out in LA... because if I couldn't manage that, I couldn't manage a life with JC, either.