Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock, Jason, Nate, or Shane. I do own a pair of scissors, though! -smiles brightly-
A/N: Yeah, so I babysit a boy named Nicky… and I told Maddi that I had to go cut Nick's hair… and somehow she started laughing and talking about how she thought of me cutting Nick Jonas's hair and I found this thought amusing and somehow that morphed into this fic. Hopefully it's sufficiently random and amusing. :D
The Art of Convincing a Popstar
"Shane?" Jason asked quietly as the three pop stars got into their limo. It was now about four hours after Final Jam had ended, and everyone was headed home – even the internationally famous counselor and his bandmates.
"Yeah?" Shane asked, a little distractedly as he gazed unseeingly out the window. Nate rolled his eyes; it was obvious what Shane was still thinking about. This Mitchie girl might be good for him, though… she certainly had turned him around in just one short summer at camp.
"… You never made me my birdhouse."
Jason sounded hurt, and Nate sighed heavily. Jason was going into I'm-going-to-guilt-you-into-doing-what-I-want mode, Nate was sure of it.
"They don't even have a woodshop at Camp Rock," Shane said after a short pause, still looking out the window with that puppy love look on his face. It made Nate want to grimace.
"But you were supposed to make me a birdhouse," Jason objected.
"I never said I would, Jas," Shane reminded him. "You just told me to, and you knew I would have a lot of things to do at camp, with being a counselor and everything."
"I was supposed to get a birdhouse, though!" Jason went on, now leaving hurt mode and getting close to accusation. Or, well, as close as Jason ever got.
"Come on, Jason," Nate put in for his friend, trying to reason. "Shane did a great job at camp. He figured out how to show the record label, found a girl he likes, and lost the whole rebel-without-a-clue attitude! He didn't have time to make a birdhouse."
"You're on his side!?" Jason gasped, his dark eyes widening and taking on an expression of abstract horror.
"I'm not on anybody's side, I'm just saying it's okay if he buys you a birdhouse instead, isn't it?" Nate went on gently.
"Buy a birdhouse!?" Jason cried in a tone as if Nate had just suggested burning down an orphanage. "That's ludicrous! That's insane! That's – that's blasphemy!"
Shane was brought back to reality by the sound of his friend's exclamation, and it also made him annoyed that he had been snapped out of his latest reverie about when would be the next time he could see Mitchie. "Aren't you overreacting just a little, Jason?" he asked, a little irritably. "I'm almost positive that no creed book anywhere in the world lists 'buying a birdhouse' as an unforgivable sin."
Nate was about to point out that it was all but impossible to argue with Jason when he got like this when Jason himself said, "Well, it is in mine! I mean, birdhouses are meant to be made, not bought! Made with love!"
"They are made, or they couldn't be bought, Jason!" Shane argued, again before Nate could say anything. Why did he even bother trying to referee these two?
"They're meant to be made personally for the person they're for!" Jason went on. "And if you won't make me one, and if you're gonna defend him –" He shot a dark look – well, a dark look, for Jason – at Nate – "I'm gonna prove my talent in the lost art of convincing a popstar!"
Even Shane was confused enough by this to fall silent for a moment, and Nate finally was able to get a word in edgewise. "What are you talking about?" he asked slowly. When Jason started to get accusing, there was no telling what he was up to.
"I'm talking about this!" Jason said with a triumphant sort of air, suddenly pulling a pair of scissors from who knew where and holding them up so that the light reflected off them menacingly.
All was silent for a moment; then Shane gasped overdramatically and mock yelled, "No! Jason's going to scrapbook!"
The corners of Nate's mouth twitched into a slight smile, but Jason's eyes kept gleaming fiercely, undeterred. "No," he said slowly, and actually quite dramatically, whether he meant to be or not. "But… if you don't make me a birdhouse… I will cut… your hair."
Shane immediately drew back and covered his head protectively, and even Nate shrank back into his seat a little. "Jason, man, you can't cut a straight line," he reminded his friend.
"So? Your hair isn't straight!" Jason said in a this-is-obvious tone.
Nate face-palmed. "That's not exactly the point…"
"Of course it is!" Jason argued, brandishing the scissors, but was interrupted by Shane half yelling, "Okay, okay! Don't be so rash! And keep those things away from my hair!"
"Then make me a birdhouse!"
"Jason, we can't make a birdhouse right now," Nate tried to reason again.
"I want a birdhouse NOW!"
"We're in a freaking limo, man!" Shane almost screamed, now backed as far into a corner as he possibly could be, still trying to hide his hair from sight as if that would make Jason forget his irrational plan.
"Look, just calm down, Jas, okay?" Nate said slowly, holding his arms out, palms forward, and speaking gently, as if dealing with a man with a bomb. "There's no need to be in a hurry. Nobody promised you a birdhouse before, but this time we'll promise, okay? We'll both make you a birdhouse! How's that, Jason? Two birdhouses!"
Jason hesitated, then asked slowly, in that soft, innocent way of his, "You promise?"
"We promise," Nate said, nodding.
"Promise, just keep the scissors to yourself!" Shane added emphatically.
"All right," Jason agreed happily, and tucked the scissors away into a pocket of his jacket. Nate untensed, more visibly relaxed, and Shane sighed heavily, slowly lowering his hands from their protective position, covering his hair. "But," Jason added, and Shane's hands reflexively jumped back to his hair, "remember… I know where you two sleep!"
Maybe it was the fact that he said it perfectly cheerily, and with that sweet, innocent smile, that made it all the more creepy. But, two days later, Jason found two completed birdhouses on the step in front of his door.