The incomparable vzg and I have collaborated to bring you the following glut of Chazz/Jimmy love, complete with bad puns, cliched set-ups, and the occasional fart joke. In short, all the essentials of "Blades of Glory" 'fic. We hope it satisfies!

Summary: Post-movie; Jimmy gets appointed Chazz's babysitter while his ankle heals. Chazz/Jimmy UST; implied Coach/Jesse and others (we don't want to give too much away). Rated PG-13; 5,923 words.

Laid Up

"Four weeks," Chazz bemoaned, pushing himself through the doorway of Coach's cabin melodramatically and heaving himself against the counter leading into the kitchen. "Four weeks!"

"Four weeks," Jimmy intoned behind him, studying a sheaf of papers the doctor had thrust at Chazz after applying his cast on his leg. "You could have shattered your bones instead of just breaking them," he continued. "You were lucky."

Chazz rolled his eyes and hobbled experimentally onto the kitchen floor. "The Chazz doesn't need luck," he said with a flourish. He set one of his crutches underneath his arm pit, using his free hand to withdraw a beer. He tried to juggle the beer and crutches, and finally looked imploringly at Jimmy. "Be a dear and show the Chazz some love, hmm, Princess?"

Jimmy crossed his arms. "I'll take 'no' for a hundred, Alex."

Chazz pouted, shoving the can underneath his chin. "Where'd Coach go?" he asked, making his way into the living room. The transition from a standing position to the couch was less than graceful, more a haphazard dropping of crutches and collapsing into a well-worn cushion than anything; Jimmy shook his head.

"He said he was going out to celebrate with Jesse." He eyed the cast, frowning. Chazz's leg was at a stiff, awkward angle against the coffee table. "Shouldn't you elevate that or something?"

"Oh, right." Without any grace whatsoever, Chazz swung his leg around the edge of the table, dropping it down and causing everything to rattle.

"Doesn't that hurt?" It looked like it had to. It sounded like it had to.

"Dude, that doctor gave me so many pills to numb the pain. I don't even know what hurt is anymore." And he certainly looked like that was true he had a smile on his face that Jimmy had only seen before when Chazz got really, really drunk and watched the Brady Bunch. "And I might have gotten one or two extra from the nurses. They were hot for the Chazz."

"They were like sixty years old."

"It was obviously their golden years," Chazz rumbled, snorting at Jimmy's obvious discomfort at the idea. "And I've got the golden ticket."

"Thank you for ruining my childhood," Jimmy groaned.

Coach's demeanor the next morning during breakfast was weary yet pleasant - obviously, all the hype for these skating competitions took a lot out of him. "I've got a lot going on right now away from here," he said over scrambled eggs (he'd already confiscated the salt and ketchup from Chazz, who still had something of a doughy physique to him despite rigorous training and strategically placed padding). "Chazz, you're on bed rest -"

"I'm the only man in the world who works out just as well horizontally as I do on the ice," Chazz interrupted.

Coach rolled his eyes and turned to Jimmy. "Since Dingleberry here's an invalid for the next month," he said - "hey!" Chazz yelped, vaguely offended - "you're going to have to lend a hand, kiddo."

Chazz leered. "Feel free to use both if you're feeling particularly inspired, MacElroy."

Jimmy glared. "You're a pig."

"Oink, oink."

"Guys, come on!" Coach said, exasperated. He slammed a palm firmly on the wooden table; both Chazz and Jimmy jumped appropriately. "It amazes me that you boys can accomplish something as wonderful as the Lotus together, and yet you still fight like a couple of two-year-olds in a sandbox the moment you're off the ice!" He exhaled sharply and seemed to regain his composure. "Now. Jimmy, you're going to help Chazz while his ankle heals -"

"We'll have to get you a little bell," Chazz snickered.

"And Chazz, you're going to respect the fact that Jimmy is your helper, not a house slave," Coach said sternly. Jimmy shot Chazz a smug smile.

"Like a monkey," Chazz concluded, wiping the smile off of Jimmy's face. "We could put you in a diaper."

"You're sick." Jimmy turned to Coach. "You can't leave me alone with him. He'll probably spend hours naked and drunk on the couch!"

"I'm counting on you to prevent that, Jimmy." Coach picked up his plate, heading for the sink. "And Chazz, keep your pants on."

"I make no promises. Sometimes, you just have to free the beast." Chazz's hand wandered down his chest, getting dangerously close to his crotch and making Jimmy cringe. "You can't just keep it caged."

"Clothing is not optional, Chazz." There was a knock on the door, and Coach left the sink, not looking back. "That'll be Jesse. Could you get the dishes for me, Jimmy?" he called distractedly.

"Sure." Just as Jimmy rose to take his plate to the counter, Chazz's own landed on top of it with a clatter. "Chazz, what ?"

"You're the little homemaker now, MacElroy." Chazz leaned back casually, his hands behind his head. "Get to it."

Despite Coach's orders to help Chazz, Jimmy couldn't help but ignore him. Or try to. After the fourth consecutive "Jiiiimmyyy!" from the living room, he gave up and followed the sound to its source. "What is it, Chazz?"

"Beer me," Chazz said simply.

"What?" If he was going to whine like that just for a beer, what would happen when he really needed help, he wondered with a groan.

"You heard me. I need alcohol to function. Beer me."

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't think you're supposed to drink while you're on your pain meds, Chazz."

"Oh, contrare-o," Chazz replied smartly. "The alcohol actually helps ease the pain. You don't want me in utter agony for a month, do you?"

"Is that really an option?" Jimmy asked, seriously considering it.

"Come on," Chazz wheedled. "Get me some booze, and I'll let you get back to knitting or whatever other girlish activity you were up to."

"I wasn't knitting," Jimmy protested. "And stop calling me a girl." He walked to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of peanuts from a glass dish that Coach kept filled.

"Don't forget the beer," Chazz called.

Jimmy smirked, walked to the refrigerator, and found the container of pineapple juice he'd just mixed together that morning. Pouring himself a glass, he took an exaggerated sip, then smacked his lips together. "Mmm. Refreshing."

Chazz frowned, eyeing him beadily. "Them's fighting words, MacElroy."

Jimmy topped off his glass and returned the container to the 'fridge. "I'm so worried."

"You should be." Chazz maneuvered the television remote off of the coffee table by the couch with his toes; Jimmy made a mental note to use his antiseptic wipes on it later. "Coach said you're s'posed to be helping me in my time of great need," Chazz continued, flipping through the channels idly. "Oooh, Oprah. Me likey."

"I think your liver will thank me for not abetting you in soaking it in cheap booze," Jimmy retorted.

"My liver is NEVER satisfied!" Chazz called as Jimmy walked away. "Jimmy! Jimmy! C'mon, man! Help a brother out!"

After a long, drawn-out, awkward phone call to Katie, Jimmy figured it was a good idea to check on Chazz. He hadn't called his name for the past half hour at least, and if he had managed to somehow kill himself...

But, of course, Jimmy's fears for his skating partner's safety were unfounded. The first thing he noticed was the ice chest on the coffee table, filled with more beer than he'd thought was in the cabin in total. There were a few empty, half-crushed cans near the end of the couch, and Chazz's leg was again propped up on the table as he watched Oprah comforting a young blind woman who had been attacked by her helper monkey. Jimmy might have made a comment on that if his mind hadn't immediately focused on other things.

"God, Chazz, what the hell happened to your pants?"

They didn't even seem to be in the room anymore, though the briefs remained in their proper place, for which Jimmy silently thanked God. His shirt was hitched up and an open beer sat on his stomach. Chazz turned to him, belching loudly before answering. "They had to go. They were killing the Chazzness of the room. My Chazzly bits were being confined. The Chazzettes wanted to come out and play. My weiner -"

"Okay, I get it," Jimmy snapped. He glanced idly at the table and then gasped. "Chazz, you moron! It's leaking!" He rushed to grab a towel, and began wiping up the excess water.

"Well, if you'd have just cooperated and gotten me a beer when I asked you to ..."

"Coach made this table! If the wood warps, it's going to be on your head." Jimmy had obviously run out of patience for Chazz's innuendo for a while. The other man was silent for a while, watching Jimmy work. "And how did you feel when Bubbles first attacked?" Oprah was asking on the television.

Finally, the silence was too much for Chazz to bear. "You're pretty when you're angry," he grinned. In response, Jimmy wadded up the wet towel, chucked it at his head, and stormed off. It landed with a smack in the middle of Chazz's face.

"Hey, nice aim."

Jimmy flipped him off over his shoulder.

Three days into Operation: Get Horizontal (Chazz's idea), Jimmy had to run to the grocery store for some essentials. (Chazz claimed that these included beer, beer, alcohol, onion rings, and beer, but Jimmy had no intention of even walking down the junk food aisle.) When he returned roughly an hour later, Chazz was on the phone, sounding more than a little like he had when he'd left all those messages on Jimmy's voice mail. "How did you even manage ?"

Chazz held up a hand to silence him, and then spoke into the receiver. "So how's it going over there?"

Jimmy sighed, pushing Chazz's leg gently (kind of, anyway) off of the coffee table, now covered with a ratty bath towel (Jimmy was pretty sure Chazz's foot fungus could warp wood as well, amongst other things). He made a beeline to the kitchen to put away his purchases, but Chazz, as always, distracted him, first by moving his leg right back onto the table, and then -

"So is Stranz doing all right?"

Jimmy dropped a bag of Doritos, staring dumbstruck at Chazz. "What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing at the phone unsuccessfully.

"He is? Really?"

Chazz clutched the phone protectively as Jimmy moved closer, until he was close enough that he could hear the voice on the other line.

"...and he doesn't know when he'll be able to get it out." Fairchild, obviously.

"That's the enemy!" Jimmy stage-whispered, but Chazz took no notice, just leaned further away. Frustrated, Jimmy stomped into the kitchen. As he left, he could hear Chazz chuckling: "Ha ha! I bet he likes it that way."

Once the groceries were put away, however, and Jimmy returned to the room Chazz had taken over, something had changed significantly about the conversation. "Ooh, me likey. You're a very dirty girl, Fairchild."

Jimmy gaped, frozen to the spot in the doorway.

"Is Stranz licking you? Oh yeah? Where?"

"Chazz, what the heck are you guys doing?" Jimmy demanded, not sure if he was more appalled by the fact that Chazz was having a more than polite conversation with the woman responsible for putting him in that cast in the first place, or that their conversation was making Chazz nearly hump the couch. "Chazz, I don't think Coach would think this was a very good idea ..."

"Sorry, Fairchild, dear, there's this buzzing in my other ear that's distracting me," Chazz cooed into the phone. He frowned at Jimmy. "It's very whiny and high-pitched and ... yeah? You think so? Hmm. Yeah, I bet he would, actually."

"He who? Me? Are you talking about me?" Jimmy asked, suddenly paranoid.

"Yeah, just turned over on my lap, wiggling. I'd bring my hand down, with a big, meaty SMACK ..."

"Chazz, God!" Jimmy groaned. He ducked back into the kitchen, but instead of ignoring the apparently sexually charged phone conversation, he crept into Coach's makeshift office, shutting the door quietly behind him. Then, padding as softly as he could over to the desk, he inched the corded receiver off of its cradle, and placed his hand over his mouth so nobody would suspect he was listening in.

The conversation had heated up in the short lapse. "That's so naughty," Fairchild was raving. Jimmy could hear her breathy giggling, and he took as silent a breath as he could muster. "You're a bad, bad boy, Chazz Michaels."

"You know it," Chazz said huskily from the living room. The sound of wet, sloppy kissing emanated from the receiver. Jimmy assumed Chazz wasn't making out with himself, and so rationalized that it must have been coming from Stranz and Fairchild's end. The thought made him gag a little. "I can tell you two are getting into this."

"Yeah, we're into it like a vagina," Stranz enthused colorlessly. The remark was punctuated by a sharp silence.

Finally, Fairchild cleared her throat, and Jimmy got the distinct impression that she'd stomped on his foot or manhandled some other appendage, because there was a soft, pained moan. "Anyway, Chazz. Tell us again what you'd be doing to MacElroy."

"I'd spank him again, just to make sure I covered all-"

"CHAZZ!" Jimmy exclaimed, and then gasped, covering his mouth. The line went silent for a moment.

"MacElroy?" Fairchild asked. "Shouldn't you be moisturizing your legs or something?"

"Care to share?" Jimmy heard Stranz say just as he slammed the phone down, and then stormed back out to the couch.

"Chazz, what the hell?"

" his ass is better than Stranz's," Chazz was finishing, barely bothering to glance up when he entered the room. "No, I don't think he'd do it on the phone."

"Hang up!" Jimmy said, grabbing at the phone once again. "I don't want to be a part of your sick fantasies!"

"I've got to go," Chazz said lazily, rolling his eyes as he stretched out of Jimmy's way. "Give your brother a kiss for me. With tongue."

Jimmy snatched the phone away when Chazz hung up, glaring with as much fury as he could muster. "You're a pervert."

"That's the way Fairchild likes it," Chazz said, not at all bothered by that particular insult any more. "She's a freaky one, and her brother "

"Ew. Please, just don't tell me anything else. I don't want to hear this."

"I'm just saying, they're close," Chazz emphasized, waggling his eyebrows. Jimmy scurried out of the room, his hands over his ears, chanting "la la la la la" loudly until he was safely out of harm's way.

Another week passed. Chazz and Jimmy's bickering grew half-hearted at best. Coach continued to keep busy with a myriad of projects - rumor had it he was working on something top secret with Jesse ("heh, he only thinks it's this giant secret what they 'work on'," Chazz snorted once when the subject was broached). Jimmy kept himself busy, reading and exercising. Chazz continued to subsist mainly on whatever junk food he could haul from the kitchen every five or six hours, and un-Godly amounts of alcohol. It was beginning to show; not only had he gained back some of the weight he'd lost practicing for the championships, but his daily schedule now included watching Passions, Days of Our Lives, and Blue's Clues, then throwing together something that combined all of the leftovers in the house for lunch, taking a nap, and waking up just in time for the evening TV block.

"This is disgusting," Jimmy commented, walking in one afternoon after a vigorous run and holding his nose. "This entire room smells like beer and farts."

Chazz burped and guzzled down the rest of the can of beer he was holding. "It's a man's world, MacElroy. I know it's new and shocking to you."

"It's gross, Chazz," Jimmy said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You do nothing except eat, sleep, and watch soap operas. When was the last time you even bathed?"

Chazz held up his splayed fingers to his face. "Let's see," he mumbled half to himself. "Tuesday, carry the two ... Thursday at 3 PM was that 'Buffy' marathon ..."

"Chazz!"

"Like, four or five days, give or take," he shrugged.

Jimmy looked appalled. "That's it," he said. "You're going to scrub down if I have to drag you outside and use the garden hose." He walked over to the couch. Chazz, seeing that he meant business, held out an arm lazily, helping Jimmy very minimally to haul him to his feet. "Go and take a shower, now," Jimmy ordered, pointing towards the bathroom.

Chazz flicked a piece of something off of his bare stomach - the fact that he sat around in various states of undress was not helping either - and smirked. "Wanna join me?" he leered.

Jimmy's nose crinkled. "Your breath smells like rotten eggs." He gave Chazz a little shove towards the bathroom. "Now." Finally, Chazz listened. Jimmy sighed, and then began circumnavigating the cabin, opening every window he could find.

"I think I've figured out a way to keep you from lousing around like an oaf," Jimmy told Chazz cheerfully the next morning during breakfast. He held out a single sheet of paper for Chazz and Coach's benefit, the words "The List" neatly typed at the top.

"What is this?" Chazz asked, his mouth full of Wheaties. "'Rule number one: no more than three hours of TV at a time. Number two: all beer cans will go in the recycling container immediately after they are no longer in use. Number three: no farting' ... dude, no way." Chazz tossed the sheet aside disinterestedly. "The Chazz does not play by the rules."

"But the Chazz is getting fat and lazy," Jimmy interjected. He turned to Coach imploringly. "And he nearly ruined the coffee table," he insisted. Coach's eyebrows shot up.

"Hey, man, that is not cool," Chazz frowned. "Why you gots to be trippin' on me like that, homey?"

"I don't even know what that means!"

"What happened to my table?" Coach wondered aloud.

"You wouldn't understand, you're not from the streets," Chazz was saying to Jimmy.

"Whatever, like you're that much of an expert."

"Well, brotha don't like to brag."

"God, shut up, you sound completely retarded!"

"You wanna say that to my face?" Chazz challenged.

"I'm talking to you right now, you douche-waffle!" Jimmy yelled back.

Coach stood up. "Both of you need to shut up!" he boomed. Coach rarely raised his voice - rarely spoke unless he needed to at all, really - and when he did, it behooved anyone within earshot to listen. "I don't care how you manage not to kill each other, but you WILL refrain from spilling blood on any surface in this house. You WILL make sure to wipe off the toilet seat every time that you use it. And most of all, you will NOT so much as breathe too hard on that coffee table. Do I make myself clear?"

Jimmy and Chazz both nodded quickly. Jimmy looked as if he wanted to add something, but Coach shot him a warning glance and he pursed his lips. Eventually, Coach left the room. The door to his office opened and shut with a small click. A beat later, and Chazz let loose with a fart that made Jimmy's eyes water. "Oh my God," he choked. "That is ... oh geez, it's EXPANDING ..."

Chazz checked the clock on the wall. "Eleven seconds. A new record."

"Coach," Jimmy wheezed. "Coach! Chazz ... oh, God, I can FEEL it in my pores! Chazz violated rule number three!"

Coach's office door opened. "Don't make me come back in there," he warned, shutting it again firmly.

"I'm going to puke," Jimmy whined, glaring at Chazz. He yanked a few dishes off the table and stalked into the kitchen to rinse them off.

Chazz inhaled deeply and let out a satisfied sigh. "Homey still got it," he murmured to himself.

Katie had begun pursuing a degree in library sciences shortly after her brother and sister had been taken into custody after their dirty tactics at the skating championships. When Chazz found out - rather, when he interrupted a three-hour phone conversation Katie and Jimmy had been having with his jokes about "having sex in the stacks," Jimmy decided it was best to meet with her in person.

Chazz's leg was healing up well. Jimmy was sure of this because he was becoming increasingly raunchy and sex-obsessed, a sure sign that he was no longer preoccupied by the pain in his ankle. In a way, Jimmy kind of wished he was - he still hadn't 'gone very far' with Katie, and being around Chazz with so much unused sexual energy made him nervous.

Katie popped over after class one evening, carrying a small dish of homemade cookies and wearing jeans and a very conservative sweater. Jimmy kissed her chastely on the cheek; from his usual splayed position on the couch, Chazz snorted. "Don't mind him," Jimmy said to Katie. "Chazz gets very touchy when he goes without sex for more than two hours."

"Harsh words, brother man," Chazz said solemnly, palming his chest for dramatic effect. Jimmy just rolled his eyes.

An hour later, the three were camped out in the living room, munching on hot pizza. Chazz had whined when Jimmy started looking at movie times, and Katie eventually suggested that they stay in. "Here, Chazz, let me get you another beer," Katie said, collecting her plate and Chazz's empty can and heading towards the kitchen.

Chazz watched her go appreciatively. "Your lady-friend is a real doll," he told Jimmy.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "You just like her because she doesn't care that you're starting to look like Jabba the Hutt," he retorted.

Chazz shrugged. "I have my own little monkey-thing," he said, adding to it a look that was something like a leer. "Now I just need me a Leia."

"Leave Katie out of your sex dreams! I swear, if I find out you've been talking about her with Stranz and Fairchild-"

"Chill, amigo," Chazz said, raising his hands in defense. "You can be Leia if it bothers you that much."

Jimmy glared, and then went to join Katie in the kitchen.

"You have an ass like hers!" Chazz called. "I can just see it in her bikini!"

"What was that about?" Katie asked, holding Chazz's beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Nothing." He looked around, hoping to find something to keep them in the kitchen, just so he could have a brief reprieve from Chazz's ... Chazzness. "Are you sure you don't want to go out to see a movie? There's still time."

"I don't think we should just leave Chazz alone here," Katie said. Jimmy almost wished she wasn't so compassionate. "What if he needs something while we're gone, or something happens to him?"

"I guess." But there had to be some way to at least stay out of arm's reach of him.

"So Katie," Chazz prepositioned as they returned to the living room. "You and MacElroy gotten past second base yet?" Seriously, there had to be SOME way.

Katie came over three or four more times over the course of the next week and a half. Usually, she ended up splitting her attention between Jimmy and Chazz. Neither her nor Jimmy would admit it, but they were both more than a little terrified to do much more than soft, brief kissing sessions; that Chazz really shouldn't be left alone for long periods of time gave them an excuse not to worry about it.

That didn't mean Chazz wasn't feeling the frustration - if it was possible, he siphoned it into himself, exuding it in raunchy quips and lame come-ons. Katie, used to her siblings' own brand of sexual tension, was, frighteningly enough, not all that bothered by Chazz's sexual energy. She took his hitting on her in stride, even giggling at some of the worst ones, and politely declining any and all invitations to play strip poker, strip chess, strip Yahtzee, or doctor (naked, of course).

Still, when Katie wasn't there, the fact of the matter was that Chazz was still nearing an entire month without any kind of sexual partnering, and it was beginning to make him desperate. Idly, Jimmy began noticing the signs: Chazz spent inordinate amounts of time in the shower; where once he couldn't be bothered to bathe more than once a week, he now occupied the bathroom as much as the couch, which, Coach remarked one morning, seemed to now permanently bear his ass-print. Jimmy broke out some of his exercise tapes one afternoon, trying to coax Chazz into a short work-out; alas, the activity ended with Jimmy doing pilates, and Chazz locked inside Coach's office, "taking care of business." (Jimmy figured that meant he was checking his stocks or something of the sort.)

The tension seemed to come to a head on Saturday evening, the night before Chazz was scheduled to get his confounded cast removed. "Pirate-ees sucks," Chazz grumbled.

"It's pilates," Jimmy corrected automatically as he stretched, warming up with the beginning of the tape. He nearly knew the instructions by heart. He might have thrown in an insult for good measure, but the exercises made him calmer than usual, even around Chazz.

"Whatever. It's boring." Jimmy bent forward, touching his toes and then seeing how far back he could move his hands. Chazz was silent for a moment but only a moment. "But at least I get to watch your ass while you do it."

Jimmy shot up like a spring, turning and covering his ass with both hands for good measure. "You're a pervert."

Chazz wiggled his eyebrows. "I know."

Feeling suddenly like he couldn't relax enough for pilates, Jimmy stopped the tape and stormed off, heading into the dining room. He sat at the table and fumed, daydreaming about the cast's removal and hoping Chazz would be slightly less annoying when he wasn't confined to the couch.

It lasted about fifteen minutes, until he heard something that sounded oddly like a sob come from the living room.

"Chazz?" he called, entering the room slowly. Sure enough, there was Chazz, looking like he'd either been punched in the stomach or had his puppy run over. Since he didn't have a puppy and he wasn't clutching at anything in pain, Jimmy was at a loss as to what could have caused such an emotional outburst. "Uh, what's wrong?"

Chazz gestured helplessly at the television. The video had been turned off, and advertising for an episode of, "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" flashed on the television screen before it went to a commercial for tampons. "I got it wrong. 'Pledge of Allegiance' has four 'e's in it, not five."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Poor baby," he crooned sarcastically. He bent to give Chazz a little hug, more a joke than anything, and yelped when Chazz's meaty hands grabbed his forearms, tugging him down into the other man's lap. "Chazz!"

Chazz's sniffle-fest seemed to have been effectively stifled. He maneuvered Jimmy strategically with the grace of a seasoned sex addict, until he was straddling his lap. "Aw, MacElroy, I never knew you cared," he said, laughing huskily in Jimmy's ear, and then kissing his cheek messily. His hips grinded into Jimmy's, causing a delicious friction. Chazz felt familiar stirrings in his groin and grinned, then pressed another kiss to Jimmy's throat. "You smell like pineapple juice."

"Chazz, s-stop it! Stop it right now! You're drunk, and you're weird and - and - no, no, stop moving your hips like that."

"Like this?" Chazz asked, doing it again.

"Yes, exactly like that." Jimmy's hands flailed; he gripped Chazz's shoulders, trying to pry himself away. "Chazz, seriously, this is wr- oh, OH, NO. No, Chazz, Chazz stop this right no - mprh." The kiss was unexpected, to say the least. "You taste like cheap booze."

"Yes, I do," Chazz leered. His hand went to Jimmy's crotch, but the other man squeaked, finally managing to extricate himself from the makeshift embrace. Chazz pouted. "Where ya' going?"

Jimmy ignored him, high-tailing it to the phone in Coach's office. "Katie?" he said after punching in her number. "Katie, can you come over? I, um, I ... I want to show you something," he blurted.

Katie sounded appreciative, but confused. "Okay," she said. "Just let me change out of my work clothes, and then I've got to feed the cat, and oooh, I think Grandma wants me to call her toni-"

"NOW, Katie."

"I'm on my way."

"You kids have fun," Chazz called when Katie arrived, and Jimmy ushered her quickly upstairs. Chazz hit 'play' on the pilates tape and cracked open a beer. "I'll just be right here ..."

At breakfast the next morning, Jimmy was already happily humming some upbeat tune when Chazz sat down next to Coach. He seemed happy, too, in spite of the fact that he had only a bagel on his plate - at least Jimmy's was dressed up with fruit-flavored cream cheese.

"What are you so happy about?" Jimmy asked, too giddy to realize that was probably not information he really wanted.

"What are YOU so happy about?" Chazz returned with a smile.

"Nothing." It was true, except for the part where he'd had sex with Katie. He just wasn't sure it was information he wanted released to the general public yet, though. Or Chazz, for that matter.

"If 'nothing' is what you call finally banging Katie last night, then okay."

Jimmy looked up in shock, and Coach spat out the mouthful of green tea he'd just taken right back into his cup.

"It's all right, " Chazz finally said, effectively breaking the shocked silence. "I know I turned you on. No one can resist the Chazz." He sat back, grinning broadly as he took a bite from his bagel. "It was good for me, too."

"You didn't "

"Listen in? Couldn't help but, bro. Katie's a wild one." Jimmy suddenly felt like he needed ten showers. "I whacked off like ten times." Make that thirty.

Coach stood quickly, wordlessly, and left the room. Chazz immediately took his bagel, stuffing most of it in his mouth in one go. "So how hot were you for me, Jimmy?" he grinned one he'd swallowed most of it. "Be honest. It's okay."

"You're SICK."

"Sick like a fox!" He reached out to clap Jimmy on the shoulder. "Today, our little Jimmy becomes a man. This is a proud moment for us both."

Jimmy wiggled away from the touch. "Ugh, I don't even want to think about where your hands have been," he shuddered.

"Down my pants."

Jimmy made a noise of disgust. "Not helping."

Chazz shrugged. "What's your big malfunction about touching other peopls hands, anyway?" he asked.

Jimmy crinkled his nose. "They're all germy. Especially kids' hands. My dad funded this Camp Jimmy thing for underprivileged youth, and I had to go and give inspirational speeches and stuff, right," he volunteered. "And like, afterwards, there were these hoards of slimy, grody, graham cracker crumb and orange juice-stained fingers groping at me and touching my hair." Jimmy wrapped his arms around himself comfortingly. "Hundreds and hundreds of dirty, tiny hands. It was so disgusting."

Chazz was staring into Coach's discarded cup of tea. He downed the rest of it, much to Jimmy's chagrin, and stood up. "You had a weird childhood," he declared. Then, before Jimmy could stop him, Chazz gripped the other man's face between his palms, and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth. "Congrats again, though, buddy," he said. "Oh," he called over his shoulder at Jimmy, who was gingerly touching his face, horrifiedly assessing the damage done by bagel grease and Chazz's general grossness. "Get dressed. My cast comes off today, and you've got to drive me down to the doctor's office."

"That nurse was HOT," Chazz said as the door closed in the doctor's office. "I'd do her in a heartbeat."

Jimmy didn't respond. He'd been kind of creeped out by her left hand, which was missing most of its fingers, and also the way she used it to scratch her ass before trying to shake his hand (and then she'd been mad when he'd politely declined, too). Coach had insisted earlier that he join Chazz while the cast was taken off, mostly to keep him from doing anything inappropriate to or with any of the hospital personnel. Privately, Jimmy felt that Coach saddled him with entirely too much responsibility in that regard; he doubted a hurricane could keep Chazz from the throes of sexual conquest if he was really desperate enough. And really, considering the most he'd done sexually for the past month was listen in on Jimmy's de-virginization sex, ... well, his standards were probably pretty low at this point, Jimmy rationalized. Being in an enclosed space with him was a little frightening, even. He simply wasn't sure when or if Chazz might pull something, figuratively or literally.

"Man, I can't wait to get this thing off. It itches like hell." Chazz scratched around the top of the cast for emphasis, looking around for something he could use to help. "Hey, lookie they left the saw here."

Jimmy had noticed it, too. Just out of Chazz's reach on the counter was the rounded, handheld blade that would finally free them both from Chazz's plaster prison. "Hand it to me!"

"What? No, I'm not letting you cut off your own cast!" Jimmy retorted. He just couldn't trust Chazz not to go too far, only to have him end up bleeding all over the place before the doctor came in. The thought of that blood made him pale a little. "The doctor will be here in just a minute."

"But I need this thing off now," Chazz whined. "I need it off more than I need sex!" He paused. "Well, not that much."

"No."

"You could do it," Chazz simpered.

"I'm not-"

"Please, Jimmy?" If Chazz had a puppy face, that was it. It almost made Jimmy feel a little pity for him. Almost.

"...Okay." He stood up from his chair by the door and picked up the saw, keeping its blade as far from his hand as possible. He wondered if that was how the nurse had lost her fingers. He turned around, and Chazz reached for it, but Jimmy kept it out of his reach. "No. If you're not going to wait, I'll do it."

"Fine, but start at the top."

Jimmy rolled his eyes, and then smirked. "Oh, I will." Gripped by a sudden need to get Chazz back for turning one of the most pristine nights - okay, two-and-a-half minutes, but who was counting except for himself and possibly Katie when she had to finish herself off - into his own personal wank session, Jimmy plunged his free hand downward, coming up with a handful of Chazz's ... well.

"Wow, MacElroy. It's okay, after Nurse Two-Prong and I do a little fingering, I'll gladly ... wait. Hey, Jimmy, w-what are you doing with that saw? C'mon, brother man, hey ... HEY!" Chazz yelled. "Jimmy, geez, no. Not the Chazzlings! They're too young to die! No! NO!"