OK, so...new plan.
Alex always has a hard time pulling off the invisibility spell, which is the only reason why she doesn't use it way more often than she does. Justin's always been able to do it on the first try, because he's Justin and annoying that way, but Alex usually messes it up a half-dozen times before she gets it right. Either she makes herself disappear while her clothes stay visible (or vice-versa, which was really embarrassing for everybody that one time it happened in the lair during Wizard Lessons). Or she only makes herself invisible from the waist down, or whatever. It generally takes an hour or more of trying before she finally gets it down. And seriously, who has the patience for that?
The night that she first decides to spy keep an eye on Justin during his secret, late-night work outs, it takes fifty-three minutes, five tries, and a frightening glimpse in the mirror of what she'd look like without skin. So it's well after one in the morning before she's confident enough in her invisibility to sneak downstairs to the basement unseen.
Her Uggs make almost no noise at all as she creeps down three flights of stairs through the darkness of the loft and the Sub Station. It's only the hollow thud of her forehead striking that goddamned pipe on the basement landing that threatens to give her away. Biting back a curse as she blinks away stars, she looks around hurriedly, then breathes a sigh of relief. Though Justin is already there, running on the treadmill at a brisk pace, he stares straight ahead with grim determination, bass thumping through his earbuds, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
Not wanting to push her luck, Alex tiptoes the rest of the way down the stairs anyway. She cuts a wide swath around him, picking her way carefully through the assorted junk that litters the basement. The bottom edge of her robe snags on their dad's old football phone, nearly pulling over the stack of cardboard boxes it rests on before Alex catches it at the last minute. Justin appears to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye and looks right at her. Her breath catches in her throat...but after a couple seconds, he frowns and kind of half-shrugs to himself, then goes back to staring into the middle distance ahead of him.
Alex exhales shakily, gathers her robe up around her waist, and crosses over to the old, beat-up rocking chair that Theresa used to nurse them in. She eases herself down into it, wincing at the way it creaks slightly beneath her. Again, though, Justin doesn't seem to notice, so she wraps her robe around her against the damp, chill air, and proceeds to watch him.
He's invested in proper workout gear in the past few weeks, it seems. His geeky Captain Jim Bob Sherwood tee and baggy grey sweatpants have been swapped for a black cutoff dri-fit shirt and matching blue shorts, and it's a huge improvement. Sweat glistens on his arms and legs as they pump away evenly, and mats his hair down to his forehead, where his eyebrows knit themselves together over his grey eyes in concentration. And now that his ankle has mostly healed, his stiffly exaggerated power-walking gait has smoothed itself into a much more natural-looking jog. It's still a little jerky and awkward, because it's Justin—he still brings his knees up ridiculously high with each stride—but at least he no longer looks like a drill sergeant leading the Dork Platoon on parade maneuvers.
So, not exactly poetry in motion, but...y'know, not entirely unpleasant to watch, either. In fact, if she pretends it's not Justin for a minute, tilts her head to the side and squints a little, it's even kinda...well, hot. Because, y'know, boy muscles rippling and breathy panting plus sweaty goodness, equals—
And clearly it's been way too long since she's had a boyfriend. Because...yeah.
Alex loses track of how long she watches Justin run. Gradually, the back-and-forth motion of his arms and legs, combined with the staccato rhythm of his footfalls on the treadmill and the gentle, thumping bass from his earbuds, lulls her into a kind of trance state. Half asleep, her head lolls to the side as she props her chin in her hand. The scent of him hangs heavy in the damp air, enveloping her, and causes a jumble of half-remembered images and sensations to cascade, dreamlike, through her mind...
Justin grunting beneath her, arms flailing, as she bounces up and down atop him with only a couch cushion between them, scowling angrily but secretly loving every minute of the liquid, forbidden thrill it provokes in her. Skirt twirling around her as Frankie spins her into the air, high enough to show the world her very cutest boy-shorts, legs covered in gooseflesh from more than just the breeze, as Justin watches through the camera's viewfinder, determined to capture every second. Drumsticks moving in a blur almost by themselves in her fists, music thrumming like magic through her veins, as Justin's hand slides up and down the neck of his guitar, fingering it expertly, his grey eyes shining and face flushed with excitement as she launches into the chorus. Arms tight around her, breath hot in her ear, cheeks burning as she pretends to ignore the erection pressing through his pants into the small of her back, while the last embers of the fire burn out, and the jungle comes to life around them. Her heart aching in her throat, Justin looking ridiculously hot and hotly ridiculous in his stupid Wonder Twins duel outfit, lost and confused but resolute as she's ever seen him, blurred through stinging tears as he promises, without even knowing who she is, that he'll never, ever leave her...
And then she comes awake with a start as the pounding of his feet and the whirring of the treadmill suddenly stop. Panting heavily, wiping his forearm across his forehead, Justin winces slightly as he steps off the treadmill, then heads for the bench press that's not-quite-hidden beneath the stairs. Shaking herself fully awake, Alex reaches down and draws her wand out from where it's tucked into her boot.
Showtime.
Laying down on the bench and positioning himself below the barbell, Justin reaches up to wrap his hands around the grip. Alex casts a quick glance at the weight, and frowns to herself. Granted, Justin could be stronger than he looks, and everything she knows about weightlifting could fit into a thimble with plenty of room left over. But that's never stopped her from jumping to conclusions before, and what he's about to lift looks crazy heavy.
Her fears are confirmed as Justin takes a deep breath, and slowly lifts the barbell up off the rack with a grunt. He doesn't drop it onto his chest immediately, as she was worried he might, but his arms tremble from the shoulders all the way up, and his complexion goes full-on Cherry Kool-Aid as he struggles to control it. Gradually, he begins to lower it towards his chest, exhaling in short, sharp bursts like he's about to give birth.
Idiot. It'd almost be funny to watch if it wasn't so recklessly dangerous. Shaking her head, she waits until he's brought the bar down to within inches of his chest and paused, then levels her wand at him. And even though the bass is still pumping through his earbuds, and his breathing is loud enough to wake the dead, she still takes care to mutter under her breath:
"Though my brother's a dork and comics aren't real, let Justin pump iron like a true Man of Steel."
(And yeah, Alex knows: it's not Batman. Justin would be so disappointed if he knew. But Alex tried, she genuinely did, and there's really only so many things you can actually rhyme with 'Darknight Detective' or 'Caped Crusader' and still have the spell come out the way you want it to. It was the best compromise she could come up with on short notice. And besides, let's face it, Justin's much too much of a goody-goody to be Batman, anyway. Superman is way more his speed.)
Although Alex's wand is as invisible as the rest of her, it still emits a small burst of red, yellow and blue, but if there's anything she can do about that, it hasn't come up in wizard lessons, yet. Fortunately, Justin is on the verge of popping about a half-dozen different blood vessels at the time, and doesn't even notice as the magic strikes him.
Almost immediately, though, his face pales from deep purple to merely crimson, and the trembling in his arms begins to subside as the spell takes hold. With a grunt, Justin pushes the barbell back up...and then blinks to himself at how easily he lifts it. Frowning, he lowers it again, in a much more controlled descent, then pushes it back up even easier than he did the first time.
Shaking his head, Justin sets the barbell back into the rack, tugs the earbuds out of his ears, and sits up on the bench. He begins peering around the basement suspiciously, a deep grimace etched into his features.
"Alex...?" he calls out uncertainly.
Alex holds her breath and sits perfectly still, not even daring to blink. Her stomach lurches as Justin's eyes pass through her twice, sweeping the basement from side to side. The second time, she's convinced she's been caught for sure. But finally, after a few moments, Justin snorts and shakes his head again.
"Nah, that's not it," he mutters to himself. "Think, egghead. Why the hell would she want to help me? If anything, she'd be trying to make it heavier. And taking pictures while I tried to lift it. And then posting them all over WizFace."
Alex fights the urge to throw something at his head. Oh, as if. Like she'd ever be caught dead logging on to WizFace...
Justin turns halfway round on the bench to look at the barbell, and shrugs to himself. "Maybe...maybe all this hard work is finally just starting to pay off, after all."
He allows himself a small, proud smile, then nods once and fits the earbuds back into his ears. Settling himself back down on the bench, he reaches up to push the barbell up off the rack, and begins to raise and lower it in time with the pounding bass of whatever it is he's listening to.
And, ta-da! Just like that: problem solved. Now Justin won't hurt himself, Alex won't get blamed for him pushing himself too hard, and everything can finally get back to normal. Because if there's a better way to restore Justin's confidence, to make him feel more like a manly man than he does right now, Alex doesn't know what it is.
(Well OK, there is one other sure-fire way—and the thought honestly has crossed her mind, if only for a fleeting second or two, not that she'll ever admit to it—but there are some lines that even Alex Russo doesn't dare cross. Not in practice, anyway. Besides, what would be the point of giving Justin his manhood back if an aneurysm killed him in the process?)
And yeah, so her history of using magic to solve problems isn't exactly stellar, she gets that, but she's actually thought this one all the way through for once. Sure, she's jacked up his strength a little—OK, a lot—but only specifically for weightlifting. What can possibly go wrong with that?
Feeling extremely satisfied with herself, Alex tucks her wand back into her boot, and stands up, stretching out the kinks the rocking chair has left in her back. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand. It occurs to her that it was already pretty late when she left her room, and that she's been down here for God knows how long. With her mission accomplished, she'd be wise to sneak back upstairs and grab whatever few hours of sleep she can before she has to get up for school...
But then, wisdom has never exactly been Alex's strong suit, and with Justin being all bulging arms and heaving pecs and sweaty grunting...well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to hang out for a few more minutes and make sure the whole Man of Steel thing really took, or whatever. A good invisibility spell isn't something that should go to waste, after all.
Grinning to herself, Alex wraps her robe tightly around her and settles back down into the rocking chair, pulling her knees up to her chest as she curls up in it. She gently rocks herself as she watches Justin, her mind wandering. Gradually, she drifts off to sleep again, wondering just what the hell that is that he's listening to, anyway...