SUMMARY: In the wake of the events of Just A Little Harmless Smut, Alex sneaks into Justin's room, determined to learn how he really feels about her. The truth she encounters is more than she bargained for, especally considering she's not exactly great with the whole "truth" thing to begin with. Set early in Season 3, pre-Wizards Vs. Werewolves.
RATING/CONTENT: M for underage drinking, frank discussions of a sexual nature, and explicit depictions of (vaguely?) consensual sibcest-y shenanigans. (Also, Justin uses the 'm' word once.) Jalex, obviously, with minor Alex/Mason and Justin/Juliet. Fluffy smut/smutty fluff. (Flut? Smuff?)
DISCLAIMER: Wizards of Waverly Place and its characters are owned by people who aren't me, who seem to frown on this sort of thing, if the rampant character assasination we saw in Season 4 is any indication. Not that I'm bitter, or anything. Oh well, at least they're done with them, and can't do any further damage to our beloved OTP.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Although the original Just A Little Harmless Smut was written as a stand-alone one-shot, and marked complete, no other fic I've written has received as many story alerts or requests for a continuation. It's been about a year since the first one, so I figure you kind souls have waited more than long enough. Like the original Harmless Smut (and Doc Day Afternoon before it) this is a porn-with-plot (or maybe I should say plot-with-porn) that's heavy on the character development and a long, slow burn...but it does pay off eventually, I promise.
A special note for followers of my ongoing fic, OTP: despite the long hiatus between updates, it's not abandoned, I promise. As a few reviewers noted, though, the last few chapters have kind of meandered a bit, and I just felt a need to return to my roots and get this out of my system while I figured out where I want to go next with OTP. The good news is that I'm excited about it again, so it will be returning shortly.
It's four pm on a Tuesday night—because, look, if it's dark enough outside that the street lights have come on, the afternoon is clearly over, OK?—and Alex Russo is bored off her ass as she sits behind the counter of the Sub Station with her chin in her hand, drawing idly in her sketchbook. The diner is deader than disco. Rain pours in sheets down the windows of the empty subway car, matching her mood, as Max and Harper move from one vacant table to another, refilling the napkin holders. Max is talking nonsense as usual, about how cool it would be to have an outfit made completely out of potato skins, or something, while Harper nods and makes careful notes on her order pad. And, for the first time ever, Alex begins to suspect where Harper gets her singularly unique ideas about fashion.
Max Russo, style muse. Christ, now there's a frightening thought.
Hearing the cooler door swing open behind her, Alex turns partway round on her stool, and glances through the pass-through into the kitchen. Her shoulders slump a little as she sees it's only her dad, whistling softly to himself as he takes a quick inventory of their supplies. Scowling at herself, and the odd twinge of disappointment she feels (but can't explain), she shakes her head and goes back to her sketchbook. She's been completely preoccupied with drawing hands the past few days, filling pages and pages with sketches of them in different poses and positions, trying to get them to look natural.
(And if there's any particular significance to that, she's doing her damnedest to ignore it.)
"Hey, where's Justin?" Harper asks, breaking into Alex's thoughts so suddenly that the lead of her mechanical pencil snaps off and skitters off the counter to the floor. Alex raises her eyes to glare at her, then sighs and clicks her thumb twice against the eraser before she lowers them again.
"Probably with Vampire Barbie," she growls into her sketchbook. "He always begs off work when it rains to be with her. And Dad's so cheap, he's only too happy to let him."
"Hey!" Jerry says from the kitchen. "You know I can hear you, right?"
"Why rainy days in particular?" Harper frowns, confused.
"Because overcast sky equals no direct sunlight," Alex replies, without looking up. "Which means they can walk around the city during the day like normal people for a change. Y'know, without having to worry about her turning into a big pile of dust, like the enormous freak she is?"
"Wow, what's with you?" Harper asks. "I thought you liked Juliet."
Alex shrugs noncommittally, pretending to be too absorbed in her sketching to answer the question. Because, really, what's she gonna say? That the thought of her brother huddled under an umbrella with his perky blonde girlfriend, as they skip gleefully from puddle to puddle on the streets of New York, is making her crankier than the worst PMS she's ever experienced? That she's worried they're not out playing Singing In The Rain, but instead holed up together somewhere, secretly making love, which makes her sick to her stomach? That, if they are off somewhere doing it, she has nobody to blame but her own goddamn self, since she was the one who—?
The pencil lead snaps again, this time so hard that it shoots across the Sub Station to ricochet off Max's left ear.
"Ow!" Max grimaces at her, reaching up to rub the spot where it pinged him. "Hey, watch it!"
"Whoops," Alex mutters, clicking the eraser again. "My bad."
"That's all you have to say for yourself? That could have gone right into my ear hole! It could have stabbed me in my brain!"
Alex shrugs again. "So? Who'd notice?"
"HEY! That was a hidden dig at me, wasn't it?"
"Oh, would you relax?" Alex sneers. "It just would've passed straight through to the other side, anyway."
Max blinks at this. "Wow, really? Could we try it again, then? 'Cause that'd be really awesome…here, I'll lean closer this time…"
"Or maybe just don't press so hard?" Harper offers helpfully, as she shoves Max over to table nine to top up the sugar dispenser.
"Mmm," Alex murmurs.
"Hey, y'know what else would be cool?" Max says thoughtfully. "Bubble wrap earmuffs. To, like, protect you from stuff getting shot through your ear into your brain? But it also gives you something to do while you're bored waiting for the subway, or whatever…"
"In-n-n-n-nteresting," Harper says, pulling her pen and order pad out of her apron again. "Keep talking, kid…"
Alex rolls her eyes and shakes her head as they continue playing their own demented version of Project Runway, struggling to tune them out and concentrate on her sketching. Because that's how she works things out, whenever words fail her. And seriously, they don't make words for how utterly confused she feels right now…or if they do, then only a hopeless dork like Justin would know them.
"Hey, these are really good, honey!" Jerry says into her ear out of nowhere, making her jump. She fights the urge to glare at him as he lays one hand on her shoulder and peers down at her sketchbook. "I really like this one here. It kinda looks like Spider-Man about to shoot a web, y'know? Thwip thwip?"
But even as her father holds up his free hand to demonstrate, mimicking the pose from her sketchbook, Alex flushes darkly. Because Spider-Man was so not even remotely on her mind when she drew that…
"Shut up and use two fingers already, dork," she'd told him.
And Justin had done as she asked, shifting his hand to spread her open with his thumb and baby finger as he slipped his ring finger in to join the middle one already sliding in and out of her, flexing his wrist to rock the heel of his hand against her clit every time he pulled out. She'd let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh as she threw her head back against his shoulder and arched her back, her hands momentarily losing their purchase on his shaft, before she dropped herself back down against him and resumed stroking him with a vengeance…
"You ever think about it?" Jerry asks, interrupting her reverie.
"Huh?" Alex asks, shaking her head sharply, as though trying to jar something loose. "Think about what?"
"Going into comics," Jerry says. "You've definitely got the chops for it, and Marvel and DC are both right here in New York."
"Comics? Oh pfft, as if!" Alex scoffs, surprising herself with how angry she sounds. "Like I'd ever waste my time drawing one of Justin's stupid, geeky funnybooks!"
Her father's eyes tighten a little at the corners, and Alex cringes inwardly, expecting to be scolded for biting his head off. But he just squeezes her shoulder and tilts his head sympathetically to one side. "Bad mood, huh kiddo?"
"A little, yeah," she admits with a heavy sigh. "Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."
(Which, y'know, is totally a lie. Fortunately, she's good at those.)
"Is there something you want to talk about?" Jerry asks, concerned. "Because if it's, uh, girl stuff, I can always go get your mom…"
"Nonono!" Alex says, a little too quickly, then forces herself to smile sweetly at him. "I mean, thanks, but no. I'm just feeling a little…off, y'know? The weather, I guess."
"Don't worry about it," Jerry smiles, patting her on the back. "Listen, why don't you get outta here, huh? Take the afternoon off, go watch TV or listen to some music, or something."
Alex's eyes widen in surprise at this sudden, uncharacteristic willingness to let her shirk responsibility, barely ten minutes into her shift. "Yeah? Really?"
Jerry nods and jerks his chin at the empty Sub Station. "I'm pretty sure that Harper, Max and I can handle the crowd. We'll call you back down if the dinner rush gets bad. Go on."
"Hey, you don't have to tell me three times!" Alex hurriedly unties her apron, tosses it under the counter before her father can change his mind, and gathers her sketchbook and art supplies into her arms. This time, the grin she favors her father with is completely genuine, as she stands on tip toe to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks, Daddy."
"No problem, princess," he grins back.
Alex spins and sprints for the black spiral staircase that leads up into the loft, her dark pony tail whipping through the air behind her, reflecting that maybe her old man isn't as out of touch as he so often seems, after all. She gets about halfway up before a sudden thought occurs to her, stopping her in her tracks. Leaning over the railing, she narrows her eyes at Jerry.
"Dad, you're not just letting me go early because it's dead, and you don't want to have to pay me for today, are you?"
Jerry's face takes on a wounded expression. "Not at all, sweetheart."
"Uh-huh. But just so we're clear, I'm not getting paid for today, am I?"
Jerry blinks at her as though she's speaking a foreign language. "Oh, heck no."
"Yeah," Alex sighs, as she trudges the rest of the way up the stairs, "that's what I thought."
