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Њ C (L ьL L T юL C Times New Roman Symbol Arial Courier New Title: I Stand Unarmed Series: Reaching for the Stars (2/?) Author: Kristin W. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from "Dawson's Creek". I'm not trying to break any copywrites.. They belong to Kevin Williamson, all the producer type people, the WB, ect. Song lyrics are from the band "Human Drama", which also inspires the titles (Johnny Indovina is a god) Rating: PG-13 underage drinking, slashy undertones Fandom: Dawson's Creek Pairing: Pacey/Jack Spoilers: "True Love" and all that came before... Summary: Angst, plus the boys bond at Pacey's house. ~On a trail blazed with words, one that I was lost upon The road that I depended on, I follow no more... And take my hand from the fire, refusing all intended scars You are cool water. Into you, I swim~ -Human Drama ~I Stand Unarmed~~ Listen. If someone had walked up to Pacey three years ago and told him his future-told him that he would cancel a summer vacation in the Florida Keys-told him that he would do it in order to comfort his boyfriend-less gay buddy...he would have laughed his ass off. If they told him how good it would feel...he would have given them a black-eye and then proceeded to hit on half of the female student body. But then...one night it would happen...and he would open up the frig, take out a couple of beers, and lean back on his couch- -not suprised in the least. Funny how things change. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - All trains of thought had been derailed. It was a kind of fuzzy numbness really... A kind of low down deep in the belly twisty feeling. Because here he was-not alone. Not lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wincing as a monster scratched at him from the inside. No sandpaper whispers deep in his brain, reminding him that Pacey Witter didn't _get_ love. He didn't get anything. No hiding, burrowing under covers that were too hot-scorching really-and pleading his body to slip into blessed unconsciousness. This was almost..."nice". A strange, alien word to be appearing in his mind. Different. Pacey let the word roll off the tip of his tongue silently, mouthing it yet not making a sound. "Nice." Jack was there at his side, matching the speed and rhythm of Pacey's strides. Every so often their hands would brush. And that was nice too, after lacking human companionship for so long. Comfortable. And for once, Pacey questioned his decision to push the world away when Joey left him. Because maybe life didn't _have_ to be black or white. It could be purple and green and red and blue, swirled together into the feel of soft fingers brushing against his. * * * * * * * * * When they reached the apartment Jack headed directly to the bathroom, entering quickly and locking the door behind him. He slid to the floor with a sigh, scared and confused now that he was off autopilot. When heose posture and easy grin made it clear that the pressure was 100% off. "Not really." The moment the words came out of his mouth Jack flinched. Here he was, on the offensive again. *Really, isn't this getting a tad ridiculous? Especially since this time no one's butting into your business. _You_ came to _him_, remember?* The knot in his stomach wound tighter, and he began to feel nauseous. Visions of men in stark white coats. "I'm sorry son, but you're completely irrational. We'll have to take you in for your own good." *I'm not crazy like my mother, I'm not crazy like my mother, I'm not crazy like my mother, I'm not crazy like my mother...* A gentle hand on his knee shook Jack out of his thoughts, thumb stroking up and down in slow deliberate movements. His anchor back to reality. All of his body's senses seemed to fixate on that point, hyper-aware of the hand's every aspect. He could feel the slightest of shifts, map out every wrinkle-like indention, count heart beats through the blood pulsing in its veins. The experience was all so surreal, yet utterly and completely natural. Then, abruptly, the hand lifted. Jack sucked in a breath, shocked to discover Pacey sitting thigh to thigh with him and peering into his face with concern. It appeared that he'd been talking for a minute or so... "...and you _know_ how much I don't what to get into _that_ mess. So don't worry about it. We'll talk later. Now-beer." Pacey gave him a disarming grin, in surprisingly good spirits, and handed him a sweating bottle. "Doug'll be so happy that his favorite brother's staying home for the summer that he'll never miss a few Bud Lights." Jack snorted, almost dropping the bottle. "Sure Pacey. He'll be thrilled." "Shut up. You just haven't been exposed to the full extent of my charm. One day you too will worship at the altar of Pacey Witter and learn to appreciate the blessed joy of my presence." Pacey smirked and tossed a pillow at Jack. "We shall begin your training with a lesson on the fine art of drinking games." He puffed up his chest with self-importance and took on a simpering tone of voice. "Now Mr. McPhee, we must begin with the most basic of all men's drinking games. First, open the beverage." Jack had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but put on a poker face in order to play along. "Second, lift the bottle to your lips." Jack did as instructed, head swimming with bright bursts of giggles that had been padlocked away. "Now let the beer pour down your throat.." Jack again did as he was commanded, but Pacey swiftly leaned over to pinch his stomach. A good plan in _theory_, a spit and beer drenched Pacey reasoned, but a bit of lacking in foresight. Jack rolled on the couch with laughter, letting it bubble up and over. It spilled out of his mouth in a cleansing torrent, wiping away the day's memories of unresponsive lips and ice cold embarrassment. "Ahh man.." Jack tried to speak but lost it again, unable to get a hold over himself with his friend sitting right there in front of him, hair matted and wet cheeks. "Just think of it as karma", he finally forced out. And promptly collasped all over again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ End Part 2 э : ; ^ _ Й К j k Ф Х
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