I'm weak. I can't stop making other stories, so very sorry.
I'll update my other stories, fear not, so this one won't make me lose focus on Mistaken Identity and Love Medicine. Besides, this is a one-shot(my first! D: ) about Jack and Jamie.
I just love Jamie...too bad the game ends when you marry him. Nice job, Natsume. Bravo.
So. Jamie is, and will always be, a boy to me. I can't picture him as a girl, sorry. Anyways, my friend recently got me into what you call shounen-ai and shoujo-ai and she's been literally dying to read a JackxJamie fic (no, I'm not a rabid fan girl that'll start pairing girlsxgirls and boysxboys). So this is for her.
"But Jack isn't gay, you moron!" Now, now Billy...I now he's not gay. He's after, Lord knows, how many girls but this is a fan fic. So, eat your hears out, fan girls 'cause this Jack likes a boy in this story.
Anyways, this is a MALEXMALE fic. If you feel disgusted by TWO GUYS LOVING EACH OTHER then kindly leave.
Flames make me feel all warm 'n fuzzy inside. The chances of me actually getting mad over a flame is pret-ty low. Makes me laugh actually. Bunch of morons that have nothing better to do. You can hate the story for the lack of good grammar or plot but because it's a boyxboy relationship...so idiotic.
GUYXGUY LOLOLOL
D8
'kay, I'm done.
Disclaimer: Believe me, if it were mine, I'd change lots of things. Like...their personalities and add more Jerry Springer drama. Yeah...
Not to mention I'd make all the HM boys my bitches. I'm a jealous pimp.
Joe's big, broad hand on Jack's slender back makes Jamie grip his sickle like he wants to stab something. Someone. That fucking carpenter Joe.
Jamie doesn't like the casual way Joe touches his rival. He's distracting him from his daily work (aka competing with him).
He doesn't like the little unremarked-upon intimacies legs brusing against each other under the table when he's at the cafe (where he goes to get some drinks and certainly not to help the idiot when's too drunk to go home alone), or the way their hands sometimes bump together when they walk like they're now.
He doesn't like the way they smile together over secret jokes—those you-should-have-been-there moments that Jamie does not know about, and probably never will.
He especially doesn't like what Joe's doing this particular morning—whispering something into the shell of the idiots's ear, his hand spread out like a starfish on the other boy's back…staying there a little longer than it needs to be.
It's not right. It's not right! Jamie shouldn't have to see this first thing in the morning. It makes his stomach churn, and puts him right off the rest of his breakfast. And he really did enjoy his breakfast, mind you.
It's sick, really, seeing Joe all over the idiot like that. He shouldn't be touching him like—like—he shouldn't be touching the idiot like that. His moron of a rival shouldn't allow it.
Why hadn't somebody noticed it yet, and stopped it? Even his rival deserved better than Joe the fisherman wanna-be.
They didn't even look good together, Jamie thought.
Joe was too tall and loud and too Joe, with all those stars hanging from his head, and his rival was tiny, tiny—he looked ridiculous next to him, he was so tiny—and quiet, too, most of the time, and those huge chocolate eyes of his would clash horribly with Joe's dull brown hair. It was just so common. Like the coral you saw by the beach.
It would be an abomination, frankly, to let Joe's ugly flesh touch the idiot's soft, unblemished skin—it would be a desecration to let Joe kiss those, oh, so irresistible lips; to have the whole slim stretch of him laid out and blushing, all for someone like that.
It was disgusting, disgusting. Jamie couldn't bear to think about it.
Jamie had absolutely no attraction to the idiot, personally, but, on a purely aesthetic level, he recognized that he would look far better with his rival than Joe ever would.
Jamie was tall, too, but he wasn't gangly, and he certainly had no stars to speak of—and he was graceful, too: he'd know how to move with his rival; he'd know just the right way to touch him, and to kiss him.
They'd be anything but ridiculous.
On a totally abstract level—totally visual, totally conceptual—he and his rival would look good together, Jamie admitted.
Hell, they'd look more than just good, he knew—they'd look amazing. A painter like Henry couldn't have contrasted them better if he'd tried.
Every one of Jamie's features was negatively matched by the idiot's own, and that boldness worked with them—the brash and colorful way they'd fit together was breathtaking.
Physically, they'd be perfect for one another. There was no question of it.
Jamie was willing to bet that his rival would fit exactly in his arms,
He'd bet that the childish farmer's chin would fit on his shoulder as if constructed for it, and that his rival's thighs—his thinly-muscled thighs, which Jamie is only thinking about for the sake of argument, thank-you-very-much—would already know to mould themselves precisely around his hips.
It meant absolutely nothing that every time he saw the boy, he would feel his heart clench. Every single time. As a result, every single time he set eyes on his rival, he went completely tense. His blue eyes widen, his face would go pale and his body rigid.
Whenever Ja—Stupid walked past, he found himself staring at him. It drove him crazy and it made him feel very confused – after all, Jamie wasn't gay! He wasn't interested in boys!
Except for his cute rival...er I mean. His idiotic rival.
He was not gay, thank you very much. Jamie was not gay! He was too handsome and important to be gay! And of course he didn't like that moron! He hated Jack...I meant Idiot!
It's just that the idiot would fit with Jamie in a way he'd never fit with Joe, and Joe had to understand that, and, also, had to get his hand the fuck off his Jack's back before Jamie went over there and did it for him
When Joe finally moves his hand away from his rival's back, the design on the handle of Jamie's sickle has been etched deeply, in reverse, into the palm of Jamie's hand.
"Good morning, Jamie!" Jack said as he walked by with Joe in toe.
"Hn."
He doesn't even hear Joe muttering 'How can you stand him?' and certainly doesn't see the boy blush and give a nervous laugh.
Jamie doesn't think too much about it, though, and that's probably for the best.
I'm a whore in MM. I'll do anything for a note. Anything.
HM characters: O.o
Er. I mean...no wait...I'll still do anything for a note. I'll whore myself to the 100 note if I have to. Anyways, review if you like/hate this. And if my grammar bothers you, tough luck. D: