nsync in black and white

Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

JC's family

ficlets written for Orlibloomgurl2 at fic_requests

Christmas is coming

You tried to write it out as a song, because you have music in your head all the time and it ought to flow, for something as important as this it ought to flow. But the words kept getting stuck in little loops inside your head, and the music just won't come big enough, or beautiful enough, or tender enough, to say how much she means to you. You can't understand why, but you've never been able to express it. It's just too big, a feeling so overwhelming that it's part of you, buried deep below your skin, she's there in your heart beating and your eyes blinking and how do you express something that's beyond words?

You come home, and the house smells like Christmas. The scent of pine and cinnamon cookies, and that's what love smells like, it always has been, though with her love smells like apple shampoo, too, and silk, and the perspiration you lick off her shoulders when you make love, and Boss Femme, and the rich dark perfume between her thighs, love smells like all these things, but right now, love smells like Christmas.

And you don't know how you can be this lucky, and you don't know how to say it, so you just hug her and kiss her, just as if she were anyone else you loved and not the most amazing person in the world.

Then she pokes you and tells you to get with the program, so you decorate the tree together. You have to do all the high branches, because she can't reach and you don't like her to stand on the steps, not now, and she says okay because she knows how you feel and anyway, she says, she can't keep her balance properly and she wouldn't want to go crashing into the tree, it's such a beautiful tree. It takes a while to get all the ornaments on, you have so many between you, you didn't realize because you spent last Christmas with your parents and Tyler and you didn't have your own tree. This is your first Christmas alone together.

The last Christmas alone together for many years to come.

You don't deserve to be this happy, so happy that your skin feels too small to hold all the happiness you feel. You just have to hang on and be grateful for everything, every moment.

Time to turn on the lights, and it's perfect, it's so pretty, and you sit there in the dark on the couch and watch the tree and the lights flashing their colours against the night, and she smiles against your neck, and you hope she can feel through your skin how much you love her, because there aren't words, there just aren't.

Then she gasps, and says Oh in a voice you never heard before, and she grabs your hands and brings them up under her T-shirt, the huge pink one with the Under Construction logo, and you love that too, the firm little dome of her belly these days. Sometimes she lets you rub in the body lotion, and she's like silk under your fingers. You start to stroke over her skin, but she flattens your hand and then you feel it, poking up against your palm, and you gasp too. Hello, little one.

Happy Christmas.



"So, Toby, what are we going to do while Mommy's taking her bath?" She'd been out all day doing the Christmas shopping and had claimed an hour for a long, hot bath before supper. JC would have liked to sneak up and wash her back, but kiddy duty wasn't a bad substitute.

"Ont pace booz," Toby declared with a beaming smile. "Beez!" he added. Really, the kid was irresistible when he said please like that. Except...

"Uh, okay, buddy, you wanna run that by me again?"

"Ont pace booz. Pace booz!"

JC offered a ball from the toybox. His small son frowned at him in disbelief. JC thought again, and picked up a book. No, not that either. Not the train, nor the xylophone (he hadn't had much hope for the xylophone), not even one of Karina's dolls. Nothing in the toy box, nothing on the shelves, was a pace boo.

Toby was red-faced with frustration by now, and his "Ont PACE booz!" was getting desperate.

"Okay, buddy, I think we're going to have to consult a higher power. Come on." He waggled a finger for Toby to grasp, and led the huffing toddler through to where big sister Karina, who for reasons JC did not dare enquire into was wearing her mother's 'Under Construction' pregnancy T-shirt, was coloring a picture and ignoring the muted TV.

"Rina, honey, I don't know what Toby wants," he confessed.


Karina, three and three-quarters going on twenty-seven, rolled her eyes at them both and went at once to the DVD racks. "He wants the space bulls, Daddy."


"Daddy! Pace booz. Beez!"

Karina had located the PopOdyssey DVD, and with all the superiority of her age and sex, put the disk into the machine and flicked rapidly through the controls until she got to Space Cowboy, then returned to her picture. Toby stood enchanted in front of the screen with his arms out to the sides, and bobbed and bounced and joined in with the chorus.

JC had never seen anything so adorable in his life.

When she came down, much refreshed and ready to fix supper for the kids, she found Toby and JC in front of the TV. Both of them with their arms out wide, though JC was on his knees, and both of them singing Wy yi yi yippee yi ay at the top of their voices.

She'd never seen anything so adorable in her life.


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