(a/n: yO okay so I've never really written slash fics before ever, but my friend and I were joking about James and Jett being OTP idiot bro boyfriends, and once I found this photo of James and David Cade (the one on the cover), the idea entirely refused to budge from my smooth brain and I slammed this whole fic out at 5 AM, so this is what y'all get. Also, ngl I'm kinda surprised there aren't more fics with these two together, and I shall fill that void sjsjs. Anyway, maybe I'll be writing more random fluffy stories of our big time pretty himbos. ( ´ ω ` ) But I'm still hard-pressed to figure out an actual forking ship name for these two. Jamett? Jatt? I need answers-)
Yet another beautiful day in the city of angels. The sun was shining, birds were singing, the Palm Woods was hustling and bustling with its usual sprightly ardour, and somewhere in Apartment 3H, James Diamond was hollering belligerent threats at the top of his lungs.
"Stetson! Stetsoooon! Haul ass, right now! Living room, front and center, or you're losing your fridge privileges for a week! A week, you hear?! That means no storage for your stinky cheeses, no digging around for my tasty midnight snacks, and definitely no chilling by its open door and racking up one hell of an electricity bill, just because your deodorant brand changed up their formula again and the LA heat keeps giving you nasty armpit stains! Do NOT test me!"
He heard the distinct click of a noisy hairdryer being turned off, and Jett sauntered out of the bathroom, a damp towel hanging off one broad shoulder and the half-finished curls of his dark sandy hair falling over his scrunched forehead.
"Jeez, we're not five fucking mountains away, so what's with all the yelling?" he complained. "You're disrupting my beauty time...and you know I hate getting my beauty time disrupted!"
"What, the two whole-ass hours I give you for your shower isn't enough?"
"Obviously not, because my shower time doesn't include my beauty time, duh. Plus, I can't even hear myself getting more beautiful with all the racket you're causing!"
"Jett—"
"And don't you dare say that I'm doing this just for me!" accosted Jett, pointing at James with his purple hairdryer. "I mean, yeah, I am, obviously...but I've also spent the last thirty minutes trying to style my hair into the perfect comb-over quiff for our super fancy-schmancy date tonight, and still—! Despite my bestest efforts, I still look more grimy greaser than rockabilly rockstar!"
Once more, he vigorously brandished the handheld electrical device with a theatrical flourish and resumed his tirade. "And guess what? You're to blame, and that new smelly conditioner you recommended too, it's all your fault that my beautiful hair—very much like my wild spirit and pure zest for life—has been extremely untamable lately!"
"Jett—!"
"...wait, no, I didn't mean that in a good way, don't get any ideas. Hey..." Jett slowly blinked as he took notice of James' shirtless suit jacket getup. "What's with the whole stripper hunk look?"
"Jett," repeated James in a strained tone, "sweetiepie, honeylove, fuzzybumpkins…"
"Yes, babe?" The shorter boy answered back innocently, clearly not taking notice of the extreme amounts of sarcasm dripping off his boyfriend's voice.
"Yeah, about that...what did I tell you about using up all of my 'Cuda Clear Firm & Massive Hold Hairspray?"
Jett's jaw dropped scandalously at the accusation.
"How...dare...you." he spat out. "How. Dare. You?! Who said I'm the one who used up your stupid man spray?! Where's your proof, huh?"
"Well, for one, you reek of 'Cuda's famous trademarked Manilla-Vanilla scent, I could recognise that smell for miles," replied James as he cocked his head and gave the air a good sniff, "secondly, we're the only ones who live in this apartment room...and third, you're literally holding the damn spray can in your hand!"
Quick as a flash of lightning, Jett casually threw the empty canister out of the window, and the pair of quibbling tenants froze up and winced as they heard the successive sounds of a clanging can, a painful thump, and someone's familiar agonised yells from outside.
"Sorry, Mr. Bitters!" they both called out.
"I don't know about you, but oops! I don't see any empty hairspray cans anywhere, fuzzybumpkins!" Jett tittered, feigning ignorance. "Which means you've still got zero evidence, so all the words you just said don't prove jack shit."
James sighed impatiently. "Listen, you stinky little liar, now I usually wouldn't mind you nicking my hair care and beauty products—along with my specially-monogrammed microfibre towel, my Sanyoid ionised blowdryer, and my best pair of slim-fit, low-rise stretch denim jeans," he said, pointing out one by one all the pilfered items that his boyfriend was donning, "but of course I also need to pretty up for tonight, and you don't wanna be caught dead with a limp and lifeless-haired date, do you? Yeah, no, I don't think so."
"Ohhh, here we go again." groaned Jett. "You're not seriously gonna call the FBI and be such a huge whiny tattletale about it and get us in trouble again, are you? If we get another pair of scary federal agents knocking at our door, we're both gonna get our well-toned butts sent straight to prison—and that cannot happen, 'cause I'm too gorgeous to be stuck behind bars for life!"
He took a moment to flip open a compact mirror and thoughtfully smoulder at his own reflection. "Although, from what I learned from guest-starring in Teen NCSI as a loveable and roguish yet tragic bank robber, forced to turn to a life of crime to pay for his lover slash mistress's horse-race gambling habit, I do look absolutely stunning in mugshots AND 'Most Wanted' posters! That black and white photography makes my best angles pop like nobody's business."
"Yeah, good for you, 'cause you're the only one here who's gonna land in jail, you dirty friggin' thief."
"Hah, like you don't have a long string of committed felonies in your history, what with your meddling Scooby-doo gang of best friends making up vaguely illegal Kendall-schemes and dragging up big time fiascos every hour of every day! Oh, and b-t-dubs, I didn't 'steal' anything, I 'borrowed without permission'."
"You used it all up!"
"Ugh, it's like you're not even listening to me." Jett churlishly pouted. "Like. I. Said. My usually-smooth and shiny hair's been all frizzy and split-endy today, and I'm gonna need all the help I can get to get it properly roped in and make it stay golden like it's the star of the barber's show. 'Cause there is no way in hell I'm going out in public looking like—like that nutty caveman repair dude with the freaky-faced plunger! This is a huge crisis, what else am I supposed to do?!"
"Um, hello?" James exclaimed incredulously. "Me! I'm here, and I could've totally helped you out with your hairstyling situation, if you just asked me to!"
"You didn't think I tried? But the last time I checked in on you, you were busy being such a total weirdo idiot at your vanity table and making googly-eyes at your stupid comb!"
"Oooh, do I hear the sound of someone being jealous?" The taller boy failed to suppress his smug smile.
"Hah, how ridiculous! Me, Jett Stetson, leading star of hit CW drama show New Town High, hottest person in the Palm Woods—"
"Eherm, second hottest."
"Tied in first place for hottest person in the Palm Woods, and the most brilliant damn actor, model, and superstar in the whole wide universe...me, jealous of a tiny plastic thing? Puh-lease, what is this, Dr. Solomon's Supertastic Elven Beauty Surgery reality show?" Jett scoffed. "And besides, if that filthy scalp rake of yours ever upstages me from the title of being your one true love—which will never ever happen, because who doesn't love me?!—but I have a few tricks up my sleeve on how to send it away and take over the crown…"
"Touch my lucky comb and you will die." James growled, his voice turning dangerously low as he clutched at the mentioned item with paternal protectiveness. "This baby has saved me from dealing with one too many bad hair days ever since I was two years old, and if anything at all ever happened to it…"
He aired out his unspoken warning by menacingly cracking his knuckles instead.
"Pfft, bad hair days indeed, ya poor scamp." Jett lazily flicked James' unkempt fringe and gave him a cheesy wink. "Even at its most unleashed and untamable state, my hair is still better-looking than yours."
"It is not!"
"Sheeesh, someone's a little touchy. Hey, just because you didn't win the awesomest hair award at the Tween Choice Awards that one time doesn't mean you have to be so bitter about it, love."
"Uhhh, we were both nominated for it, and also, you forgot to attend the ceremony that day, and also also—! You didn't win it either, 'love'! And from what I heard from Katie, you didn't even take the loss gracefully, you big dumb crybaby."
"That sneaky little munchkin girl is full of lies!"
"And you would know because...you're also full of lies?"
Jett looked like he was about to object, but stopped to think about it some more and instead gave out a lukewarm shrug in response.
"Yeah, thought so." James snorted derisively. "But like seriously though, darn that lady from Karmin, she's super cute and talented and everything, but she just had to go and steal our thunder, and our purple rocket! But it's fine. Whatever. I'm over it. No, really, I am. S-shut up."
Jett arched a doubtful eyebrow. "Clearly."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"Of course not! But don't worry James, whatever Amy Heidemann and Nick Noonan say, you will always win the awesomest hair award in my heart. Yes, and the nominees for that obviously include me too, so you know just how much that means I adooore you." he drawled as he fondly pressed a finger to his boyfriend's frowning lips. "So. Do I win the title and the crown back now, or…?"
"Save your gross sweet talk for your four hundred thread-count alpaca hair pillow, Stetson—you may be a sly dog, but you're not gonna freaking charm your way out of this one. You're paying for your crimes against hair-manity!"
"Hmmm...how about I pay for it with a kiss instead?" preened Jett, batting his eyelids at James.
The brunet rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "My god, you're such a whore."
"Says the rejected Magic Mike member. And why yes, yes I am, thank you for noticing—but remember, I'm your whore. Besides, you're deffo getting a huge steal here, 'cause a kiss from *the* Jett 'Sexyman' Stetson, is absolutely priceless."
At last, James' deadly serious demeanour dropped, as he couldn't help but laugh at Jett's bizarre macking facial expressions and cringe-inducing sloppy kissy sounds.
"Damn it, foiled again!" he snapped his fingers in defeat. "You're lucky you're friggin' hot."
"Well, I'm so sorry I was born that way! Nahhh—actually, no, I'm not. Not one bit."
"Me neither. And deal. Now pay up, hardass."
"Un moment, my beautiful darling." Jett excused, holding up a hand to stop James from advancing any further. He then pulled out a peppermint-flavoured chapstick from the back pocket of his not-his jeans, popped open the cap, and started liberally slathering it on his gaped mouth, while James quietly observed the fascinating ritual with dry stares and crossed arms.
With a final press and pop of his renourished lips, Jett flashed a mischievous grin at the awaiting boy. "Voilà, now I'm ready. And you better buckle up baby, 'cause you've got the sole honour of getting a one-way ticket for the liplock train—destination, luuuuurve!"
"Yeah, you're really doing a great job of killing the romantic mood here, Casanova." James grimaced, sticking his tongue out in mock disgust.
"Just—do you wanna get paid or not?!"
"Ummm...actually, I think I'd rather get derailed and crash off a bridge and die a horrible fiery death instead, thanks."
"Too late, we're already leaving the station! Choo-choo!"
Jett closed his eyes and puckered up. He began leaning in closer, and closer, and closer...but as his lips were barely inches away from making their mark, James suddenly whipped out a brand-new can of 'Cuda's Improved Cool Clear Firm & Extra Massive Hold Hairspray from his suit jacket and spritzed it right in Jett's face, making the startled boy emit a high-pitched shriek and stagger back in equal parts surprise and pain.
"There, now your ugly mug won't be limp and lifeless!" the gleeful James declared, throwing the matte black canister in the air and swiping a confident hand to catch it. He then held the nozzle to his face and blew away an imaginary puff of gunpowder smoke from it, before giving the hairspray a final debonaire spin and resheathing it back in his magical jacket pocket, posing a-la secret agent style as he did so.
"Thrh trh thrrrrh!" Jett angrily spluttered as he furiously wiped down his stinging tongue with the both of his popped shirt collars. "You're thrhe worsthth!"
"What was that, Sylvester Pussycat?"
"Thuck ith, Diamondth! You're thrying thoo geth me killth!"
"Well, Jett, I really hope you learned the valuable lesson of being a good noodle and not stealing—sorry, not 'borrowing without permission'—my hair products." James nodded sagely. "Or at least, not being a rude meanie jerkface and actually replacing them when you do."
"I hathe 'oo tho mucth."
"Aww, c'mon don't be like that, babe." the taller boy cooed apologetically. "I was just messing around."
"Messing around, yeah right—I swear to my stunning specimen of a soul, if I die from toxic man-spray poisoning, I'm possessing your stupid lucky comb and haunting you for the rest of your blasted life." grumbled Jett, scowling at James from beneath the golden-stitched 'J.D.' of the towel he was using to wipe the rest of his flustered face. "Prepare to be cursed with bad hair days for eternity plus one!"
"Don't be such a drama queen. Anyway, our resident rockethead over at 4J told me that 'Cuda products are actually made with organic ingredients, which basically means...some smartie mumbo jumbo science stuff about plants, bleep blap bloop, and you'll survive, hooray!"
"I'd rather drop dead right now than go out with you for five more seconds, you Tweety-headed hack."
"And speaking of going out, my puddy-tat," singsonged James, "you are so not wearing that awful top for our date tonight."
"At least I'm actually wearing a top." Jett shot back. "Seriously, I hope you're not planning to go out looking like...that, or you're going alone. I absolutely refuse to be upstaged by your gigolo-looking ass!"
"Aaand there's your jealousy talking again. God, you're just too adorable." James grabbed a fistful of his juniper-green polo shirt and pulled him in close, wrapping his free arm around the bemused boy's waist as he did so. "But really babe, that hideous colour makes you and your pretty skin complexion look like a pasty piece of dry olive, and I definitely don't wanna be caught dead by the paparazzi with a walking martini garnish."
"Ah, yes, a table reservation for Mr. Limp Hair and Dirty Martini." tutted Jett disapprovingly. His puffy eyes were still mildly watering, and his mouth and cheeks were shaded a raw pink from both the aerosol attack and all the ferocious scouring, and his mussed-up hair was mussier than ever, but he had broken out into a wry smile despite his deplorable condition. "That's an admittedly great tabloid headline, I'll give you that much...but such terrible superhero names for the hottest star couple in Hollywood."
"Hey, at least it's way better than El Hombre Del Flaming Space Rock Man! Sorry, Litos."
"Or Bandana Man?"
"Shut up, whore." James smirked. "Now, about that payment plan…do you take installments?"
"Oh, sure, suuure!" Jett paused and scratched at his head. "Whatever the hell that means. But it sounds great!"
"It should be."
With this, James brushed back the curling wisps of stray hair on Jett's face and gently tilted his scruffy chin up with one finger; intent hazel gaze locking with fluttery baby blues as he leaned in and breathlessly closed the small distance between them.
Long after they sealed the deal and finally called off all outstanding debts on each other, the mingling taste of spicy Manilla-Vanilla and soft peppermint still lingered on James' electrified lips, all the way to the very end of their super fancy-schmancy (and thankfully paparazzi-free) date night. His boyfriend was certainly right about one thing.
Jett Stetson's kisses were absolutely priceless.
(Please ignore how stupidly cheesy that ending got, my sleep-starved mind was so blatantly dead when I finished writing this and it really shows. Also thanks to Bella for putting up with all my dumb rusher headcanons ❤ And of course, thank you for reading! Please do tell if anyone wants to see more, and I guess also feel free to send prompts and ideas and stuff like that :3)