Title: Fixated

Author: The Shonen-Ai and Yaoi Goddess

Rating: T

Word Count: 2, 556

Warning: Yaoi(Boy-Love, GuyxGuy), Slow James, Cheating(?), Mild Language, Suggestive Themes, Playboy Kyle

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone… Well, I own the random girlfriends and Kyle. But I only like Kyle. J. K. Rowling (the lucky bitch) owns the rest of them. Unfortunately. If I did, we all know what would happen. There! You happy? –glares at the lawyers in suits in the doorway, who nod once and leave—Stupid lawyers.

Dedicated To: FairyVampire

Sometimes I wonder where I'll be ten years from now. It's not often, of course: playboys like me don't think about that sort of thing. And Kyle Smith is definitely a playboy. I'm not sure when it all started… but I know why. It all comes down to one reason, the reason for everything. Hell, the reason I get up in the morning. James Sirius Potter.

I met Jamie in my first year—back when I was as innocent as a lamb. I know what you're thinking: innocent? Him? Yes, I was innocent… once upon a time. Before that first day on the Hogwarts Express. I was sitting in my compartment, very much alone, reading a Muggle novel. You may have heart of it. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Arthur Conan Doyle was, and will always be, a brilliant man. But, I digress.

I was sitting alone, in my compartment, reading my novel, when the door was thrown open dramatically.

"I hate you!"

Startled, I could only stare as a boy the same age as me turned to yell out the door, before stepping fully inside and slamming it shut. I almost laughed when he stuck out his tongue at the door… and then he turned around.

Jamie was the first person—male or female—that I ever considered pretty. He wasn't the tallest person I'd ever seen—in fact, I think he was actually shorter than me, which meant he was shorter than average. His hair was such a dark shade of red, for a moment I thought it was black. But then he moved, and the light set it aflame. He was tan—the type that obviously spent a lot of time outdoors. There was a very light sprinkling of freckles across his nose—I probably only noticed because I was staring. But it was his eyes that really drew me in. They were brown, a lovely chocolate brown with the smallest flecks of gold. His eyelashes—and here I knew I was in trouble, because who looks at eyelashes?—were almost girlish. I had a feeling that he would murder me if I ever said so.

He looked surprised to see me. "I thought this compartment was empty. My bad."

But he didn't leave. He plopped down in the seat across from me, and it almost made me smile. He didn't care what other people thought, even then. He grinned at me, and I smiled back, almost hesitantly. It took all of five minutes for the two of us to be engrossed in a conversation about Muggle literature. Apparently, he was a fan.

But all good things come to an end. When they got to Hogwarts, I was sorted before Jamie. Instantly, I was put into Slytherin. I didn't care where I was. I was just happy that I had made a friend. But, when I looked at Jamie's face, what I saw made me falter. He looked… horrified. And that scared me. I'll admit it. I was terrified by that look of horror that I saw on his face.

When he was sorted into Gryffindor, he looked so pleased, so relieved, and there were so many people at that table cheering, that I knew why he looked horrified. Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mix, as anyone at Hogwarts will tell you. Stupidly, I thought Jamie and I could overcome it. But when I tried to talk to him the next day, in our first class… he looked at me like I was the scum of the earth, and turned away.

It was that day that I started to become who I am today. I would make him see me. I would make him know me. And I would do anything to make him never be able to forget me.

So I carved my way through Hogwarts. For the first two years, it was through pranks. I sassed the professors, tormented the students, the usual things. In third year, I lost my virginity to an upperclassman. It was my first time—having sex and having sex with a man. I liked it. I was with the bloke for a week… then I got bored. I started wondering what else was out there.

So I found out.

Four more years of sex and drinking and, I will admit, a little recreational drugs once(I decided I didn't like them after I realized that I couldn't remember the mind-blowing sex from the night before). And then, in my seventh year, I received the most amazing proposition from the least likely of sources: Albus Severus Potter. The little brother of my fixation(I hesitate to say obsession. It seems… well, it seems stalker-ish. And I didn't stalk him. I watched him from afar).

"I want you to have sex with me."

I had stared at him for the longest time. I was sure he was joking. After all—this was Albus. Jamie's innocent little brother. I knew him, of course. He was a year under me and in the same house. He was also best friends with Scorpius Malfoy… and had the biggest crush on him that I had ever seen. Now, it is very rare that I am at a loss for words. But I have to admit, I was stunned. Mostly because, if you ignored the green eyes, Al looked ALMOST like Jamie, and I could almost pretend it was Jamie saying it to me.

Almost.

"You know what you're asking me, kid?"

"I know. I also know you're going to agree."

I almost laughed. "Why is that?"

He looked smug. "Because I look like my brother."

I felt a wave of cold wash over me. He knew? At my expression, Al smiled sympathetically.

"I'm the only one that's noticed. What do you say? I don't care if you think it's him, just like you don't care if I… think of someone else."

I could only nod. Who was I to pass up such an opportunity?

As the year passed, the two of us became friends. We were closer than close, and even if we ended, I doubted that we would stop talking. Our mutual need brought us together, and our mutual need is what put us both in the little shop in Hogsmeade. Both Scorpius and Jamie were there.

In the end, though, our meeting only made us more disappointed in ourselves. We were hopelessly in love, and didn't seem to be finding our way out of it anytime soon. What a pity.

I found myself shocked at a party a year later. I had gone to get Al and I another set of drinks, when I saw Scorpius take my place on the couch. With a knowing smile on my face (because I was certainly all-knowing, wasn't I?) I settled against the table to wait, and to watch. Imagine my surprise when I heard a sound of irritation from beside me.

"Tch. Al needs to learn to keep you near him. After all, for all he knows you'll leave here with some whore." I felt a headache building, as they always did whenever Jamie was around.

"Contrary to your belief," I began, turning to look at the object of my fixation, "Al wouldn't give a damn if I left."

Now, I will admit, I may have had a bit more alcohol than was strictly wise, or I wouldn't have said that. As it was, I did, and James looked at me then, a sneer already curling his lip. I didn't like that look. He looked better when he smiled.

"Oh really? And what, exactly, do you mean by that?" Jamie looked irritated.

I didn't intend to answer, but I ended up doing it anyway. "Because I'm just a replacement for Scorpius, that's why."

Jamie looked stunned, for a brief moment. Then he looked absolutely pissed. He turned, with obvious intent, towards the two best friends on the couch. I couldn't let Jamie do anything drastic, of course, so I grabbed him by the arm.

"Whoa there, little Griffin. Easy."

"Let go of me! I'm going to kill Al!"

"Why?" I was honestly curious at this point.

Jamie snorted. "Because no one, not even you, needs to be used. How did you find out?"

The sympathy made me start. "He told me from the start, and used some very intelligent logic. It's a mutual exchange."

Jamie looked confused, and hesitant. "What… do you mean?"

Now, I should have stopped there, but the alcohol was getting to me. "I mean, he's as much of a replacement as I am."

Instead of looking angry, like I half expected, he looked curious. "For… who?"

It would have been cute, that he didn't know, if it weren't for the fact that I had spent the last eight or so years pining after the little idiot. So, forgive me if I acted irrationally, but I could not help myself. I still remember the way his eyes widened dramatically, the way that his breath hitched as I leaned in close enough to kiss.

"You." And then I did kiss him.

Now, most of you are probably wondering how hard he hit me when I did so. After all, he's James Sirius Potter. And James Sirius Potter dated more than enough women for the whole world to know that he was as straight as an arrow. So I was just as surprised—though I probably shouldn't have been, with the taste of alcohol that followed—when he kissed me back.

You heard right.

Kissed.

Me.

Back.

I'm not sure how it happened, to be honest. I know I'm amazingly good looking and all, but honestly. This guy has been professing his hatred for me from the moment I was put into Slytherin, if you'll recall. But I certainly wasn't complaining when he wrapped his arms of me and seemed to have absolutely no intention of letting go anytime soon.

The next thing I know, I'm feeling a lurching in my stomach, and we're spiraling onto a very comfortable bed, with him perched on top of me, the kiss remaining unbroken. Because we were just that damn good. Now, I know you're sitting there hoping that I'll describe the most amazing night of my life—and it was. But there are some things that one just doesn't do, and it would almost cheapen the moment were I to put it in words.

Suffice it to say, I was one happy man when I woke up the next morning with a delicious throbbing in my ass.

Or, I was a happy man until Jamie, who was cuddled up quite nicely next to me, yawned, stretched sensually against me, cracked one eye open… and yelped, tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. Now, I won't deny that the sight of him sprawled out on the floor looking deliciously wanton wasn't tempting, because it was. But I was distracted by the stab of rage that filled me when I saw the look of absolute disgust on his face.

It reminded me too much of our first year.

"If it was that distasteful," I nearly growled, "Then I can always go."

I was mildly pleased to note that a shiver seemed to go through him at my tone, and the disgust in his eyes was momentarily softened by the hint of lust that I, myself, felt whenever I was in his presence. However, and I mentally beat myself up for this later, I assure you, I was too angry to remain. And when he didn't say anything to stop me… well, I left. Apparated right out of there and onto Al's bed, who grunted and groaned at the sudden weight. He opened one stunning green eye, took one look on my face, and scooted over to make room for me.

This is why I like Al. Despite the fact that I ditched him last night, and that I had obvious—I mean, come on, I was NAKED—just gotten back from some serious shagging, he knew that I needed comfort and he gave it to me. It makes my wonder why he was put into Slytherin, to be honest, though that thought was usually answered the next time he got upset with me and he began to be called away just as we were getting to the good parts.

I holed up in Al's room for about a week, not coming out even for meals, until he told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn't get the hell out of his bed he was going to hex my bits off, because I certainly wasn't putting them to good use.

Which makes me wonder why I like him, to be honest.

So, I left, and went to my flat… and found a very interesting display. On my couch, there was a very sexy, very angry James Sirius Potter. Oh well, two could play at that game. I marched into the room, fully prepared to berate him… and found myself sprawled out on the couch, being snogged until I forgot my own name.

Well, hello.

When we broke apart (and I can't say I was happy about it. Damn oxygen.) I stared up at him in disbelief. He still looked angry, and I have to say, I probably didn't help matters when I spoke next.

"Who are you, and what have you done with James Potter?" Because my Jamie wouldn't have showed up to snog me senseless. He's have showed up to hex me, possible, but snogging?

Not a chance, unfortunately.

He looked even more angry that before. "You know, having the bloke I've been having wet dreams about since third year apparate out of my bedroom in an angry tiff—which was a very girly move, might I add—while I'm trying to figure out why the hell he would want to sleep with me in the first place, AND trying to figure out why I let him when I was only going to get my heart trampled on in the first place, was not the way I wanted to start my morning. And then the same bloke didn't go to his house, so I've had to camp out on the front porch until his landlady took pity on me and let me in, because I had no idea where he would have gone. Forgive me if I'm not my usual glowing self."

Now, I'm not slow. Far from it. I'm a very intelligent young man. But it took me a minute to process what he said. After all, if what he said was true… I found myself laughing, which only made Jamie glare at me even more. When I finally stopped laughing, mostly due to lack of oxygen, he crossed his arms over his chest, still straddling my hips.

"And what, pray tell, is so bloody funny?"

And then, because it was so hard to resist him when he looked so pouty, I reached up and pulled him down into a very vigorous snogging session.

Suffice it to say, three years later, we're still going strong. We still argue, though it's mostly because he's too dense to realize when others are flirting with him and I'm too retaliatory to resist flirting just to piss him off.

On the plus side, the make-up sex is amazing.

A/N: Well, that's that. This was a follow-up to my story "Obsession". If you liked it, I'm taking requests. I'll write other things, too. Just fill out the lovely little form, and if I've read/watched whatever book/anime/manga/ect. You're wanting me to write about, I'll give it a shot. ^ . ^

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