Yeah, I know. I'm posting wayyyyyyyyyy too many stories. I'm sorry. Jarlos is now my current love for this fandom, and I can hear Kendall and Logan crying in the corner, because they want a turn, too. It's kind of an addiction, I guess, writing… because I crave reviews… but, anyway. Read on. Italics=James' thoughts (from third person)

Disclaimer: Yep. Still don't own. Damn it.

There are times when James questions whether being Carlos' best friend is a good idea. Maybe, he thinks, it wasn't such a good idea to start hanging out with a guy who constantly wears a helmet and runs into walls for a good time.

On the other hand, maybe it was.

He knows he should be sleeping, should be resting up for the long day of recording and dancing that is to come. But instead, he chooses to pay no attention to the alarm clock that seems to be taunting him with its red numbers, 2:27, and stares up at the ceiling above his bed in Apartment 2J, his eyes glazing over as he remembers. Because, after all, it's been a long and winding road to get here…

Preschool wasn't one of James brighter periods in life. Sure, he could count to twenty, say his alphabet without too much trouble, and he could name his colors without missing a beat. But sharing wasn't one of his brighter areas. The whole idea, to him, was actually kind of stupid. Why let someone else use what you had worked so hard to get? Really, truly, he figured that it was something he would never understand. Which is probably why he got sent to the time-out corner on more than one occasion.
And then, when he walked into the classroom one morning to see a little boy in his spot on the magic carpet, on his spot, then it is so on.
It's pretty much an unspoken law in early childhood that you don't take someone else's place. It is simply something that you do not do. But, obviously, this kid didn't know that. He was wearing blue jean overalls over a red and blue striped long sleeved shirt, and on his head was a helmet. A thick, black hockey helmet, that's what it was. James had been playing in Little League hockey since very early on, and he was sure that that's what it was.
Wasting no time, he went right up to this little shit (because, seriously, who would take his spot?), got in his face, and yelled, "You spot stealer!"
The kid jumped a mile in the air before turning his head to look at his accuser, and James realizes that he's never seen this boy before. Oh, well. That is his spot, and fuck it, he will sit there.
Then, Miss Bartlett chose that moment to come up behind him, knelt down to his eye level. "James, honey, is something wrong?"
"He-He took my spot!" James was on the verge of crying, and his lower lip was puffed out as he thrust a finger in the bewildered child's direction.
"Shh, shh, shh," the elderly teacher soothed, turning James around to face the kid and holding his shoulders. "James, this is Carlos. This is his first day with us, today. Will you be a big boy and let him have your place on the circle, just this once until we find him one?"
"HE. STOLE. MY. SPOT!" James wailed, the tears spilling over and rolling down his cheeks.
Miss Bartlett's expression hardened, just slightly, and she said, very calmly, "James, please go sit in the time-out corner. You will stay there until I tell you to move. Understand?"
James screamed that obnoxious little kid scream, but complied after a moment, stomping his feet all the way to the left corner of the classroom, letting Carlos have his spot.
At snack time, when they went outside, James was seething mad. He was going to find Carlos, oh yes he was, and give him what he deserved. Because no one messes with his red circle on the magic carpet. No way.
He finally found him sitting alone on a swing, going slowly back and forth. Nobody wanted to talk to this helmet-wearing-spot-stealing freak of a kid. James felt bad for a spilt second, and then went up behind Carlos, shoving him off of the seat.
Carlos landed in a rather large mud puddle that lay a few feet away from the swing set, thanks to the rainstorm that had occurred the previous night. When he looked up, he was covered in the thick brown liquid, tears threatening to fall from his chocolate eyes.
James grinned. "Spot stealer."
Then, the tears began falling down Carlos' cheeks, but he didn't audibly cry, didn't say anything, he just stared at James.
After only a few seconds, James' tough guy façade began to wear off. "Hey… c'mon, I didn't really mean it…"
But it's too late; Carlos was already crying, a little more prominently. The tears were thicker and growing in number, and then James sighed and walked forward. "Here…" He reached a hand out to help Carlos up. "I'm-I'm sorry…"
Carlos quieted instantly and took his hand, locking their fingers together. He looked up at the slightly bigger boy helplessly for a moment, before grinning mischievously and tugging, hard. James yelped as he fell face-forward into the mud, right next to Carlos. He looked over at him, all ready to start a fight, but then, he saw the humor and sincere kindness in the other boy's eyes, and he found himself unable to get angry. Instead, he smiled.
"I'm James."
"Carlos."
"Hey, um, my mom packed me two cups of chocolate pudding for snack… do you want one?"
"Sure!"

James smiles and laughs to himself. Pudding and mud. That was what he defined his first real friendship with. Pudding and mud.
The ceiling is dark; but as his eyes adjust to the light, he can just barely make out patterns in the stucco. And then, another striking memory comes to him.

Okay, I think I'll make this a chapter fic. Should I? Review and tell me! :)