"Can I interject here that you've just rattled off to me a slew of stories coming from classical mythology? Why can't you evince such amazing recall in English class?" Joey asked Pacey, as she reclined against him, her arms hugging his knees into her sides, nestled in his embrace.
"Sometimes I do. But the stars help guide me out there, in the ocean. And the stories help me remember the stars. " His back propped up against a thick bale of hay, Pacey had pulled Joey down to set her between his bent outstretched legs and then slipped his own arms beneath hers to rest his hands on her flat stomach, nuzzling his chin into the crook of her neck.
"This recall could help you in history too," Joey pointed out.
"That's history up there. A whole mess of history. Some of it pretty. Most of it ugly. But there it is. You can look up and just see a whole bunch of stars. Or you can see beyond that to the stories they tell. I see the stories."
"And you remember them because…?"
"Because any sailor worth his salt knows the stories of the stars," Pacey replied. "They mean something to me. Sometimes, out there with nothing else to guide you, they mean everything."
The others would be back soon. That looming expectation hovered over them as they sat together, in the barn loft, looking up at the stars while Pacey regaled Joey with all of the tales inherent in every constellation, impressing her with that amazing recall. Settled in a spot that was a safe angle from the opening, they could see the sky yet still be far enough back to not be immediately visible to anyone approaching from outside, below. And, more importantly, from this vantage point, they could see approaching headlights coming around a bend in the road at least a mile out, giving them ample time to prepare for the onslaught of those added personalities.
"Your dad told you all of those stories?"
"Well, okay, not all. Some of it came from Will. As you know, he still came out fishing with us once in awhile, even after he left Capeside. That boy's a serious Greek mythology nut. So all those little details, I learned from him."
"Think if he stayed, you'd actually be an A student instead of hanging out a few letters below that?"
"Keep 'em coming, Josephine. They're just more hits begging for payback."
After a tiny laugh, Joey snuggled further back into his embrace. Turning his face, Pacey dropped a soft kiss beneath her ear and then burrowed there, sighing. She brought one lazy arm up to encircle his head, just behind her, and lay her cheek against his.
"This is nice," she said, her lips curving up into a small smile.
"Mmhmmm…" Pacey agreed, bending his head to kiss her jaw. His hands slipped under her shirt, pausing to savor the feel of her soft warm tummy beneath his palms. Then, casual, they drifted up further until they rested just beneath her bra, his thumbs leisurely caressing the underside of her cotton-clad breasts, his touch light, soothing and sensual. Joey closed her eyes, awaiting further exploration. But his hands stayed moored, just there, only his thumbs moving, unhurried, upon her.
When the warm flutters inside of her grew too insistent to ignore, she cried out, slight frustration in her tone, "Pacey! Grab my boobs, already!"
Pacey's thumbs immediately stilled and Joey felt the mirth rumbling through his body surrounding her before it erupted out of his mouth as helpless laughter. He laughed so long and hard that Joey could not help but join him, until they were both gasping for breath from that shared hilarity.
"Way to ruin the mood, Potter," he said, hugging her to him, affectionate, kissing the top of her head. She giggled, placing her hands on top of his around her waist.
"And what mood was that? As I recall, you were stubbornly stuck between first and second base. I was just nudging you onward."
"Were you now?" Pacey said, his voice wry. "And when did you become such an expert on the bases? Last I checked, you weren't exactly the most knowledgeable of baseball fans. I mean that on both levels – metaphorical and actual - by the way."
Joey blushed but stubbornly stuck out her chin, "I know about the bases, Pacey."
"Which version?"
"What?"
"I mean, the old version or the new one?"
"How many versions are there? I thought there was only one."
"Nope. Those old guidelines have been updated for modern times. Remind me to go over them with you someday."
"Why can't you go over them with me right now?"
"Because we have a very limited time for any lessons and you, obviously, are still under the impression that the old guidelines apply. So I'm more than happy to oblige."
Joey opened her mouth to protest, but he had slipped his hands beneath her shirt again as he spoke and was now cupping both of her breasts. He squeezed gently, once, and then moved his hands down, his fingers smoothing along the bottom edges of her bra, before pushing the cloth upward and off the full mounds. Gliding his warm palms over her hard nipples, he cupped her again, skin on skin, no material between. And then he set to caressing those rosy nubs with fingers simultaneously tender and torturous. Gasping, Joey's hands came up over her shirt, to clutch at his hands, beneath it. Closing her eyes, she pushed her head back against his shoulder, even as she arched her chest higher into his hands.
Pacey groaned and removed one hand, swiftly bringing it up to cup her jaw, tilting her head back further to bring her mouth up to his. Joey whimpered softly at the loss of that hand but then, his tongue was filling her mouth and she moaned, overcome with the concurrent sensations of his lips, tongue, hands, and fingers working their magic at different points of her body. She brought one of her own hands up above her to grab the back of his head, keeping his mouth locked to hers; the other one slid beneath her shirt to clasp his wrist as his fingers continued to roll and pull at her nipple, below.
With Joey simultaneously pressed back against him like this and sprawled between his bent legs, completely open to his erotic ministrations, Pacey ached to touch her even more intimately. Yet he knew, instinctively, that some things just should not be rushed. Reluctantly breaking that intense, plunging kiss, Pacey took in a great gulp of air and concentrated on steadying his erratic breathing. Though he was all for charging forward, especially in matters of anything relating to sex, a past-time that he enjoyed greatly, with Joey, he sensed he should progress with much caution and certainly, more forethought. Despite her more than willing response right now, he innately knew that this should develop much more slowly than anything else. It was going to be hard – hell, he was hard! – but she was worth it. He had screwed up a lot of things in his life so far, but what was happening now, between them, could be infinitely more precious, and it was the last thing he wanted to ruin. Not now. Not ever.
So Pacey took her hand from his head, and shifted his own hands, tugging down her bra to cover her breasts again, pulling her shirt to cover her once more. When she started to object the abrupt ending of this rather pleasurable interlude, he hugged her tightly and kissed her temple, murmuring, "Not now, Jo. We really should take this much more slowly. And they'll probably be back soon."
Joey absorbed his words, quiet, and then sighed, bringing her arms up to wrap around his that were encircling her. A lingering restlessness made her edgy, and she squirmed a bit in his arms while resettling herself. Pacey swallowed hard and tried to fasten his thoughts onto other things, mundane things, anything other than this tempting girl wriggling between his legs.
"Jo, quit wiggling around," he growled, dropping his hands to the sides, balling them into fists resting on the floor.
Joey blushed deeply and immediately stilled. Then, timidly, she ventured, "Is this hard for you?"
"Lord, woman!" Pacey exhaled, throwing his head back against the bale of hay, closing his eyes, the exasperation impossible to hide now. "You have no idea!"
Joey did not know what to say to that. Restive tension stretched taut between them. It was starting to make her nervous. Oh my God, she thought, I was complete putty in his hands just now! Her mind shifted back over their recent, blush-rendering activities. Did he stop because of her inexperience? In these matters, he was so much more skilled than she. Was there any way to measure up to any expectations he might have? The last time she offered herself up to a boy, she was spurned, and it broke her heart. Was this a different kind of spurning, now? And her heart…well, her heart was still wavering, not yet fixed, meanings floating, elusive. Then, Pacey was speaking again, interrupting her fretful musings.
"Joey, things are difficult enough just trying to be with each other, alone, to figure out everything. We shouldn't rush this part of it at all. Believe me."
"Do you think things will get easier, once we get back to Capeside tomorrow?" she asked, hesitant.
"Easier?" Pacey asked. "Don't know about that," he muttered, shifting back a bit, while pushing Joey slightly forward, putting a little space between them, but keeping her there between his knees, lightly resting his hands on her back. "But we'll definitely have more options."
"You and your options," she commented, dryly, crossing her legs to sit up, Indian-style.
"It's all about choice, you know," he said, practical now, almost brusque.
"Yes, I know," Joey concurred, her tone, suddenly quiet and enigmatic.
Pacey did not respond. They each had a right to their own evolving thoughts about what they were doing, how they were feeling, and who they were becoming to each other. It was still strange, this sudden shift from enemies to friends and now…well, to something definitely more intimate. His sexual experience, though widely varying between his prior two partners, was not at all extensive. Sex with Tamara, though certainly instructive and extremely enjoyable, had gotten her sent away. With Andie, though he had been gentle and careful, he believed they had rushed into sex too soon, causing unforeseen complications. And now, here was Joey, famously jittery and skittish about all matters sexual. Yet there she had just been, in his arms, pliant and wanting, exceedingly hot and crazy-desirable. But again, this was Joey, and if she was acting first now, without thinking, then he knew those contemplations would most definitely come back to haunt and hound them later on.
"So what should we do now?" Joey asked, peering back at him over her shoulder.
"Pick a star, you pick a story. So pick one," Pacey said now, grabbing onto their earlier storytelling to steer them to safer ground.
Joey looked up and picked out a particular star, exceedingly bright, alongside another, almost exactly like it, illuminating themselves distinct from the others scattering all about, surrounding them.
"Ah, the Twins! Good one, Jo," Pacey said, approvingly, before lapsing into a brief period of searching silence as he scanned his memory for the details of this particular tale.
Joey smiled to herself. She actually knew the story behind this one. Her mother told her, long ago, when she was a little girl. Or rather, stories, for those two stars meant varying things to different cultures and civilizations throughout the centuries. Ancient Babylonians called them the "Great Twins," for Gilgamesh and Enkidu, a mythical pair of friends who fought the gods, progressing through twelve great adventures as they battled. The Greeks looked upon them as two heroes, half-brothers, both sired by the god Zeus with separate mortal women – Hercules and Apollo – one a supernatural man extraordinary for fulfilling twelve impossible labors; the other, the Sun-god and bringer of light, healing, and the arts. The Romans saw them as Castor and Pollux, the twin sons of Leda the Swan, one son sired by the mortal King of Sparta; the other by the immortal king of the gods, formerly Zeus, now Jupiter. Fiercely devoted to one another, upon the death of the mortal Castor, immortal Pollux declared that he wanted to die too, to be with his beloved brother in Hades. Their fidelity was rewarded with shared immortality. In all of these stories, divine immortality was a theme, of two beings straddling the heavens and earth, yet celestially connected to one another in perpetuity.
When Pacey spoke again, his voice took on a sonorous tone. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy who was enslaved by an evil ogre. The ogre was nasty and mean, and had a strange penchant for musical divas. Anyway, one day, he commanded the little boy to guard a doorway that led into a glorious world, beyond his imaginations. But he was told that he could not enter, under no circumstances, or the ogre would eat him up for dinner. The little boy had to stand, like stone, before that door, and never peek at what lay behind it. Then along came a little girl in pigtails, wearing a mighty scowl. The little boy dared her to come with him, to go behind that door, to see the world that they were not allowed to see, beyond it. So she came, and they entered that new world together. Inside, it was beautiful and bright and overwhelming, so they reached out to grab each other's hands, as delicate butterflies flew all around them, fluttering their colors everywhere."
Captivated, Joey leaned back a little into Pacey's hands, still on her back, his thumbs smoothing over her shoulder blades.
"And then the evil ogre came back. Finding them beyond the door, he let out a huge roar, and gobbled them up instantly. But see, they were not the sort to go down easily, so they stuck in his stomach and kicked as hard as they could, causing such a great stomachache, that the ogre grew sick, and vomited them out into the sky. And that is where they sit, forever, surrounded by butterflies, and the remnants of the ogre's dinner, swirling around them."
"That's disgusting," Joey said, elbowing the chortling Pacey, behind her. "You made that up."
"Nope," he responded, grasping her waist and pulling her back, once more gathering her tight against him. "We did."
As Joey adjusted herself within the cradle his limbs and chest provided, she thought about tomorrow and the days that would emerge soon after that. They would be getting a respite soon – away from the growing claustrophobia of these knotted lives, trapped here, cloistered in this cottage - and she was relieved. With Dawson going away for a few days, perhaps she and Pacey could be freer to explore what was happening between them. As if compelled, her gaze drifted down to the words just there, below her feet – Dawson + Joey Friends Forever. Random, Dawson's makeshift blue stars, twinkling from that tree, came immediately to her mind. He had wanted to give her those blue stars he thought she wanted, last night. Yet here, now, Pacey gave her the stories behind the stars, far up there, in the heavens. Stories that constantly shifted, along with their meanings, yet stayed steadfast, shining, despite. At her feet, etched on the boards, lay a reminder of the past. Up above, in all of those stars, future possibilities stretched out before them. Another haphazard thought came to her - there were stars on her red mittens, the day Pacey kissed her by the side of the road. She sighed.
"I wish we could find ways to have more moments like this."
"We won't find them, Jo. We'll have to steal them."
Slipping both of his hands into her waiting ones, resting in her lap, their fingers intertwined and Pacey rested his chin on her shoulder. Write a different story as you go forward, Will had said earlier, on the porch. In this moment, all the stories spread out before them up in the sky, as well as this story now, unraveling. So they gazed up, wrapped in each other, to read the sky above. Before those tell-tale headlights came around the bend of the road, effectively ending this stolen time together.