timemachineofawesome asked: So I somehow only found this blog today, and I am quite literally squealing with joy and sobbing like a pathetic fangirl. I love you Jam£s!!!
Well we’re glad you found it! And don’t worry about fangirling, we still scream when we hear Jam£s tracks come on our radios! Hopefully he will see this and see how much support he still has! JAM£S, WE LOVE YOU! WE WANT YOU TO COME BACK!
In Which Jam£s Lets It Slip to the Press That He Has a Boyfriend
“Jam£s! Jam£s, over here!”
Jim smiled, turning photogenically, and approached the reporter.
“Hey, Cindy, how can I help you?”
“Well, we all know that the last time you were here at the Grammies, you performed with Arsen, and then you were spotted going on several dates with their drummer, Lee Dwyre, last year- our watchers want to know…you’ve been slated to perform with the new trance-pop sensation D.G- do you think sparks are going to fly?”
Jim laughed lightly, tossing his hair back and shooting her a dazzling smile, “I should hope not. My boyfriend would be unimpressed.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Must run, darling, good to talk to you,” Jim said absently, not registering the reporter’s dumbstruck look, “we simply must do it again some time.”
“Who’s your boyfriend?”
“He’s terribly shy. And rude. Really, must dash.”
With that, he turned on his heel, shooting the camera another smile, and swayed off.
“So, straight from the source- Jam£s, the international pop sensation, has a boyfriend! But who could it be? He’s been linked with many men in the past, including, notably, Zachary Quinto, of Heros fame, and Lee Dwyre, drummer for Arsen. Watch this space, folks!”
In Which Lee Meets Jam£s For the First Time
Lee was ready to hate this ‘Jam£s’ guy as soon as he heard his so-called music on the radio.
At the Grammies, however, when Jam£s arrived in ripped jeans, motorcycle boots and a hell of a lot of body glitter, and Lee saw him for the first time, he couldn’t exactly hate the guy, despite his obvious lack of musical taste.
Hating your future husband was frowned upon, after all.
Lee stared as Jam£s stretched, hips twisting in a way that made Lee’s pants uncomfortably tight.
Then he winked at Lee, and he felt himself blush violently.
“…You alright, man?” Harry asked, leaning over, and Lee nodded.
“F-fucking fine.” he said, still staring, as the blond popstar lounged back on a chair, legs indecently wide.
“You’re from Assio, aren’t you?” Jam£s asked, when they ran into each other backstage- Assio coming offstage after receiving Best Newcomer, Jam£s going on to perform.
Lee nodded mutely, going bright red.
“You guys are fantastic. I wish I was in that kind of band,” the singer said, and kissed Lee on the cheek, “congratulations, Sweet Thing. Enjoy your victory.”
Lee nodded dumbly as the blond swayed off, fingers raising to touch his cheek.
They came away covered in glitter.
(FYJ note: It can be assumed because of this post that Assio is actually named Arsen in the longer Jam£s AU fics.)
In Which Team/Blu Accidently Attends a Jam£s Concert
“Why couldn’t Jim come with us, again?” Harry asked, playing absently with the rim of his glass of water.
“Said he had fucking homework to do,” Lee responded, scowling into his own drink as though wishing it were something stronger. “Don’t see why the fuck we have to be here at the asscrack of night anyway. Why should we give a flying fuck?”
“Pirates versus Ninja are our friends,” Pratik said, quiet but stubborn. “Performing as opening act for a venue this large is a big deal. We should support them.”
“Oh, right. Them. Just as long as you don’t make us stay for the main fucking event. I’ve got shit to do.”
“It’s some pop thing, right?” Harry said, nose wrinkling. “Some autotuned thing? Yeah, we can go. Right, Pratik?”
Pratik shrugged, passively. “Just so long as we stay for PvN,” he reminded them.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll fucking stay, calm the fuck down,” Lee downed his drink quickly. “Just wish they’d hurry up and get this shitshow on the road.”
PvN came out and performed to relatively polite applause, the vast majority of the teenage girls in the audience obviously there for one reason and one reason only.
In very little time at all, PvN was leaving the stage. Before Lee could so much as set his drink down, however, the room dimmed and the MC announced, “Now, what you’ve all been waiting for, performing for the first time after his hiatus, Jam£s!”
The arrival on-stage of an unmistakable glitter-covered figure was met by Team/Blu’s table with a raised eyebrow, a frown, and Lee almost toppling from his seat. With the lights angled the way they were, it looked like glitter might have been all Jim was wearing for one long second, but then the lights moved a bit and it was clear that Jim, though shirtless, was wearing his strategically torn white skinny jeans, the glitter sprinkled just as liberally there as anywhere else.
“Good evening, beautifuls,” he said, voice loud and sleek and undeniably, unmistakably Jim. “Did you all miss me?”
The girls in the audience were screaming. Lee seemed incapable of doing anything besides gaping, soundlessly, at the stage. Harry looked over at Pratik, who was frowning a little.
“Huh,” Pratik said. “I hope he doesn’t use as much autotune as on the CDs.”
Harry blinked at him. “Jim’s some kind of international pop sensation and you’re worried about his use of autotune?”
Pratik nodded. “If he does, I’m going to have to kill him and we’re going to have to get a new bassist,” he pointed out. “It’s a valid concern. We don’t have the time to find a new bassist.”
“Personally, I think you should be more worried about getting a new drummer,” Harry pointed out. “I think ‘Jam£s’ broke Lee permanently.”
Jim twisted his body lewdly on stage, grinning as the beat for his first song started. Lee literally fell off his chair. Pratik winced as the autotune kicked in.
“Well,” he said, slowly but optimistically. “A bunch of good songs only need a vocalist and a guitarist, after all.”
Harry grinned, bringing up his phone to take a picture of Jim singing flirtatiously to a girl in the crowd. “It’s a good night,” he decided.
Jam£s AU fic
READ MORE WON’T WORK I’M REALLY SORRY. :(
Shows were *fun*.
Occasionally Jim wished he’d gone into another area of music, but he was a good dancer, and glitter, smoke machines and endless groupies were basically the only things he had ever wanted out of life, so being Jam£s was hardly a trial.
Huge shows were the most fun, of course. Hundreds of thousands of people screaming his name, singing through filters and different mics, messing with the audience, dancing to music he knew better than his own name.
Last number, Jim thought, stretching casually- lifting one leg up in an upright split, and dropping down, bouncing on his heels. He’d changed out of six other costumes over the course of the show, and was now left in light, ripped jeans, shirtless but with stenciled patterns in gold glitter over his torso, stretching up to his face.
“Last number,” his manager said, smiling at him, “you ready?”
“I do love the last song of the night,” Jim smiled brightly, and let the sound crew fit him with a mic, a hair artist arranging a few sprays of his hair artistically.
“You’re doing Bla Bla Bla, right?”
“Indeed I am. See you on the other side, handsome.”
Jim winked, and swung out onto stage, soaking in the screams and applause as a spot lit him up.
“What, you’re still here? I thought you would’ve gone home by now,” he grinned at the audience, and the backing music started.
His hips snapped into position, and he raised his arms, getting ready to dance.
-
“So what’re you doing tonight, Jam£s?” his manager asked, as Jim sat, eyes closed and passive, while a team of make up artists carefully stripped glitter and gold from his body, leaving slightly reddened skin clean and soft in their wake.
“For the five hundred thousand millionth, Dorian, just call me Jim,” Jim said, and one of make up artists grabbed his chin, carefully dabbing gold off his lips with a cotton bud.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dorian smiled, checking his blackberry, “you’re free tonight, you know. There’s choreography tomorrow at twelve, so don’t be out too late, and try and avoid the paps, we only just got over the thing with what’s-his-face from Broadway.”
Jim nodded slightly, and someone began to comb glitter out of his hair.
“Any plans, then?”
“I’ve got a date,” Jim said, smiling slightly, and the make up team finished, “thanks, guys. You were amazing tonight,” he told them seriously, shaking their hands as they left.
“A date?” Dorian raised an eyebrow, slipping his blackberry back into his pocket as Jim started to get changed, switching show jeans for equally torn, distressed white jeans that clung distractingly to his muscles.
“Indeed. The drummer from Arsen,” Jim said, pulling on a deep blue button up shirt and a sharply cut black leather jacket. Finally, he grabbed a pair of silver flip flops, and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it perfectly, before slipping on his white wayfarers, “do I look public safe?”
Dorian looked him up and down, and nodded.
“You look great, Jim. Are you doing autographs?”
They fell into step as they left the dressing room, Jim nodding and thanking passing crew and dancers with a smile and a handshake or a kiss on the cheek.
“Of course,” Jim said, nodding to one of the guys who had been working the spots for him, “people came to see me. The least I can do is take a few photos and sign some stuff.”
“Don’t get caught up in it,” Dorian warned, “or you’ll end up hanging around for hours, like you did in London.”
“They were terribly nice in London,” Jim smiled, “I had a lovely night. It was hardly a trial.”
“You made those girls’ night, Jim. An autograph is amazing. A conversation, even better. A photo, they’ve got something to brag about,” Dorian shook his head, “you went clubbing with them.”
“And it was fantastic,” Jim shrugged, “I have no regrets.”
Dorian rolled his eyes, “Just a hell of a lot of glitter.”
Jim opened the stage door, flicking his sunglasses down, and grinned at the sudden rush of screaming.
Dorian tapped his watch, and Jim smiled, heading to one of the crowd barriers.
“Sign my shirt! Oh my god, please sign my shirt!”
“What’s your name, darling?” Jim asked, taking the gold marker Dorian passed him, and the girl’s eyes widened.
“B-Bee, my name’s Bee. I’m a huge fan!”
“Did you have a good time tonight?” Jim looked over his sunglasses, writing a short note on the shirt.
“It was amazing!”
“You don’t sound American, are you a stranger to these shores?” Jim asked conversationally, adding his autograph to the end of the note.
“I-I’m Australian, I saw you in Sydney last year…”
“That was a great show,” Jim smiled, “have a great night, Bee.”
“Most celebrities would have just signed her shirt, Jim.” Dorian whispered in his ear, and Jim shrugged.
“I’ve never been particularly normal, have I?”
Dorian sighed, “Be at the car in less than half an hour? Please?”
“I’ll endeavour to do my best.” Jim smiled, moving to the other side of the barrier to sign some CDs.
-
“You’re fucking late.”
“A popstar is never late, nor early. He arrives precisely when he means to,” Jim said, taking off his sunglasses and smiling.
“Well, you’re still fucking late,” Lee said, blushing slightly, and Jim nudged him with his shoulder.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, there is that,” Lee replied, softening, and smiled at Jim.
“Hungry, sweet thing?” Jim asked, “I’m about ready to kill for some sushi.”
“Sounds fucking fantastic,” Lee agreed, tentatively putting an arm around Jim’s waist.
Jim grinned, leaning into him a little, and headed for the restaurant door.
“Fucking table for two? Name of Dwyre,” Lee told the maitre de, and they were ushered to a small table in a corner of the restaurant.
“So, sweet thing, how’s recording going? Having fun?”
“I just fucking wish that cuntface Jacob would figure out how to hit the fucking notes at the right goddamn time,” Lee said gloomily, “everyone else is fine. Fucking great, even.”
“He’s your new bassist, right?” Jim asked, letting his jacket fall off his shoulders and drape over the back of the chair.
“Complete assface. No clue what he’s fucking doing,” Lee shook his head, and Jim knitted their fingers together on top of the table.
“I’m sure he’ll catch on. Either that or your darling guitarist will strangle him with a bass wire.”
Lee grinned.
The waiter interrupted quietly, and they put in their orders, Lee sweeping his thumb over Jim’s pulse point as he spoke.
“Too fucking right. How’s things on your end? You had a show tonight?”
Jim smiled, fiddling with the dish of soy next to his empty place.
“It was good. I love shows. Fantastic crowd tonight, really. I love doing shows in New York.”
“Oh?” Lee raised an eyebrow, “Better than fucking LA?”
“Definitely,” Jim nodded, “Although I picked up some awesome things in LA.”
“Flirt.” Lee grinned, and their sushi arrived.
“Holy shit, this looks amazing,” Jim said, biting his lip as he stared at the food.
Lee fumbled with his chopsticks, picking up a piece.
“Fucking eat some, then. You must be fucking starving, after a show. I know I am, and I don’t do any of your goddamn dancing.”
Jim grinned, tapping his chopsticks together and snapping up a piece of salmon nigiri, “You love my goddamn dancing, don’t front.”
Lee reddened, distracting himself by taking a bite, “I always like what you do.”
“Sap,” Jim accused him, slipping off his flip flop and running his foot up Lee’s jean covered leg.
The drummer blushed even harder.
“What? I’m really fucking lucky. I’m not goddamn retarded that I can’t figure that shit out.”
“That is an incredibly unpolitically correct way to say you love me,” Jim teased, and Lee almost knocked over his cup of jasmine tea.
“Well, I fucking do,” he muttered stubbornly, and Jim smiled.
“I know.”
“And I know you do too,” Lee added, grinning as Jim blushed.
“…Well, yeah. I do. That, that is, I do…I am very fond of you.”
“You’re practically allergic to the word,” Lee grinned, confidence coming back, and stole a california roll from Jim’s plate, stabbing it with his chopsticks.
“It’s terribly mean for you to be so judgemental, sweet thing. Also, your technique needs serious work,” Jim said, wincing at the way Lee lifted the roll, “Seriously, stop it.”
Lee ate the sushi, then rolled his eyes as Jim picked up another piece easily.
“Not all of us are fucking fantastic with weird ass eating utensils. Seriously, what the fuck is the point of chopsticks? They’re impossible to use, I mean, goddamn.”
Jim grinned, dipping the roll in soy, “Well, I’m not letting you mutilate anymore.”
“Mutilate? Fuck it all. How am I supposed to eat, then?”
Jim’s grin widened, and he lifted the roll.
“Say ah, sweet thing.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” Lee said, but opened his mouth obediently.
“And you love it,” Jim reminded him, popping the sushi into Lee’s mouth.
-
“Have you got to go home?” Lee asked, helping Jim put his jacket on at the door, “Do you have choreography or some obnoxious fucking meeting with your manager at fuck early o’clock?”
Jim shook his head, “My curfew has been lengthened. I’m all yours for the night,” he said, and Lee tucked his arm around Jim’s waist again, slightly less tentatively this time.
“Hey, beautiful, do you want to come back to my place?” Lee whispered into his ear, and Jim shivered lightly, leaning close.
“Sounds like a fantastic idea, sweet thing.” Jim grinned, and Lee slipped his hand into Jim’s pocket, squeezing lightly.
“Oh my god, are you Jam£s?”
“Why yes I am, honey, can I help you?” Jim turned, smiling at the teenage girl who’d interrupted them. She was dressed for spring, in a cute floral dress and leggings, her long red-blonde hair falling around her shoulders.
“Could I…uh, could I get a photo with you?”
“Sure. Sweet thing, could you get the camera for her?” Jim smiled, and the girl passed Lee her phone with a shaking hand, coming over to stand next to Jim.
Jim grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders, and Lee took it, expression sour.
“Fucking done.”
He pushed the phone back at her roughly, and she took it happily, grinning widely.
“I’m a really big fan, I’m so sorry to interrupt your night…”
“No, not at all, honey. I love talking to fans,” Jim said, smiling graciously, and Lee caught him from behind pulling him back against the drummer.
“Well, uh, thank you so much. I love your music!”
She ran off, back to a group of teenagers who were hanging around outside an internet cafe.
“Are we fucking good to go now?” Lee growled, and Jim smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
“All yours, sweet thing. Take it away.”
Lee smiled, pulling him over to the black jeep parked on the street.
-
Lee lived in a large penthouse apartment with two of his bandmates- they were on tour so often, or busy with other projects (one did guest lectures at various universities, while the other was heavily involved in other musical projects, including, at the moment, writing a score for a movie) that sharing a space was natural, and the size of the large, wooden floored apartment was big enough to avoid his room mates when he wanted privacy. A note on the door declared that Harry had taken Pratik out to dinner, and they’d be home late, and Lee crumpled it in his pocket, letting Jim in with a grin and a pecked kiss.
“I’m always surprised by your place,” Jim said conversationally, dropping his jacket over the coat stand next to the door, “it’s not really very…you.”
“It’s a shared fucking space, of course it’s not just me,” Lee said, flicking on the lights and adding his coat to the stand, “you want a drink?”
“Sounds good,” Jim smiled, running a hand through his hair, and came over to lean on the kitchen island as Lee looked through the fridge.
“Let me fucking guess- lemonade and malibu?”
“You know me and my disgustingly sweet taste buds so well,” Jim said, watching Lee’s ass as he bent over to grab the malibu.
Lee smiled, mixing the drink and passing it over, before making his own- rum and coke.
“Please tell me you didn’t actually just invite me up for a drink?” Jim said, sipping at his glass and aiming a dirty grin at Lee.
“Just be fucking polite, babe.”
“You’re adorable when you’re polite, it’s true, but I’d really prefer if we went and had sex now,” Jim said, draining his drink and setting the empty glass next to the sink.
Lee gulped, and did the same.
“Sounds like a fucking plan.”
“Oh, good,” Jim purred, winding his arms around Lee’s neck, “I would hate it if we weren’t on the same page.”
Lee licked his lips, pulling Jim in by his hips, “Oh, we’re definitely on the same fucking page.”
“Your room, then?” Jim suggested, and Lee nodded quickly.
-
“Fuck, I missed you,” Lee murmured, pressing Jim up against the door, and the blond moaned lightly, curling his fingers into Lee’s hair.
“Haven’t been anywhere, sweet thing. I’m right here.”
“Busy with your fucking choreography, all the show stuff, getting ready for your tour…” Lee said, sucking at Jim’s neck and making him whimper, one leg coming up to clamp around his hips.
“B-but all that dancing…does a body good,” Jim said, rolling his entire body up against Lee sinuously, and his eyes closed, grinding closer.
“I still fucking missed you.”
“You want to show me how much you missed me?” Jim grinned dirtily, “There’s a bed right there.”
“So there fucking well is,” Lee said, as if in surprise, and swung them around, making Jim yelp in surprise.
Lee pressed him down onto the bed, and Jim smiled, pulling him close.
“But I know what you mean,” Jim said, as Lee flicked the buttons on his shirt open.
Lee nipped at his collar bone, and Jim fell back at the pillows with a gasp.
“What’s that, babe?”
Jim tugged at Lee’s tee-shirt, stripping it off, “I missed you too.”
Lee grinned, hand slipping down to Jim’s zipper as he kissed down his chest.
“You want to show me how much you fucking missed me?”
Jim laughed breathlessly, shifting his hips up helpfully as Lee pulled at his jeans.
“There’s a bed right here,” Lee finished, and Jim grinned.
“So there is.”
Jam£s AU fic, Bakashima part 2/2
Lee was all over him during dinner, Harry noticed.
He sat next to James, touching his arm or his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back, touching his hair and pressing thigh to thigh with him. When he wasn’t touching him, he was looking at him, eyes focussed on the neat curl of his boyfriend’s lips around his forkful of pasta and salad.
He’d even been polite enough to make the salad while Harry and Pratik messed around making the spaghetti, and Lee helpfully got in their way.
Harry couldn’t pin down what it was he didn’t like about Lee’s boyfriend.
There was just something weird about him.
Pratik kicked Harry gently in the shins, raising an eyebrow, and Harry obediently looked away from Lee, to James.
He was slightly pink, colour in his cheeks, and smiling like he couldn’t help it, constantly darting not particularly subtle looks at Lee out of the corner of his eyes.
He leaned into every touch, and practically purred when Lee touched his hair, and Harry ducked his head at Pratik’s knowing smile.
Okay, so they liked each other equally.
But that meant nothing. There was still that weirdness about him Harry couldn’t put his finger on.
James helped wash up after dinner, flicking soap bubbles at Pratik and making jokes in his superior drawl, voice completely at odds with his Lee-ruffled hair and the spots of damp on his shirt from his bubble war with Pratik.
Harry found himself unable to stay cold, and flicked his tea towel at them, snapping it through the air with a loud crack. Pratik yelped, eyes going wide, and hid behind the blond, who declared that he would protect him, if it cost his life.
He settled on the couch afterwards with a dramatic sigh, throwing himself bodily onto Lee, one hand trailing onto the floor, the other hooking around Lee’s neck and drawing him down into a kiss.
“Are you three always this energetic? I’m exhausted. I’m amazed you have the energy to do anything, if just eating dinner takes so much out of you.”
Harry blinked, sitting up.
That was it.
That was what was weird.
James made everything flow together. He fit into the little weird cracks and corners between the three of them, where Lee’s darkness ground against Pratik’s mildness, and Harry’s literary jokes didn’t catch any laughs, and where Pratik could duck for cover.
He made it fun.
Usually, the three of them got on, but in a quiet way. It was Pratik & Harry, and Lee.
This felt…
It was him and Lee and Harry and Pratik, nobody left out.
“…Do you play bass?” Pratik had asked innocently, half way through dinner, after Just-call-me-Jim had got in a fight with him over the parmesan, leading to a small scale war with the condiments.
James had nodded, grinning.
Harry turned to look at Pratik, where he was happily sitting in another arm chair, noodling on his guitar, and shot him a betrayed look.
Pratik smiled brightly.
Harry frowned.
Pratik blinked.
Lee laughed, a strange, almost creaky sound Harry had only heard a very few times before.
Harry nodded.
He wasn’t going to question how they’d get an international superstar to give that up to play bass for a reasonably popular rock band, but if they could do it…
Lee laughed again, and when Harry looked over, the two were closely intertwined, flushed and smiling.
…Well, it’d be nice.
Jim seemed like a smart guy.
Jam£s AU fic, Bakashima part 1/2
Harry let himself in to find Lee’s boyfriend lying on the couch, reading a book and listening to an Indie rock radio station.
He’d met James a few times, but always just a quick ‘hello/goodbye’ as he rushed in or out of the apartment, and this was the first time he’d had time to observe the pop star when he wasn’t in a hurry.
He didn’t look a whole lot like the guy in the Jam£s videos.
He did have the same fine blond hair, and perfect bone structure, but he seemed skinnier, not quite as muscled, and without the glitter and make up all over his face, Harry could see a few freckles dotted on his cheeks, making him look surprisingly innocent. A dark beanie and a pair of white wayfarers sat on the table, and he was wearing a baggy black hoody- an Arsen hoody, Harry noticed absently- obviously hiding from the paparazzi.
Arsen was a popular band, with a wide audience and three top ten albums, but Harry wasn’t used to the idea of hiding from the paparazzi quite yet.
“Hi, James,” Harry said, dropping his keys in the bowl on the hall table, and hanging his coat up neatly, following it with his scarf.
“Just call me Jim, really. Everyone does,” said the blond, looking away from his book to smile at Harry with straight white teeth, before becoming reabsorbed in the text.
Just call me Jim.
Harry could remember the first time he’d seen Just-call-me-Jim, back in high school, on the big TV in the common room. David had been ‘researching modern music’ in the name of the Warblers- watching MTV in the hopes of pretty, mostly naked girls, when the video had started.
A lithe blond, only a year or so older than them, in nothing but tiger slit black leather pants and a lot of silver body glitter, dancing in a way that seemed like it should have been illegal, singing and looking through the camera in a way that made Harry feel like he was being stripped naked by him.
Jam£s.
The next big thing.
Harry shook his head, picking up his laptop, and settled into an armchair, clicking through to his distance study course.
“What are you reading?”
“Othello,” said the blond casually, turning a page and smiling.
“…huh,” Harry blinked, and the other man grinned, putting down his book.
“Were you expecting me to be reading the latest issue of Seventeen, perhaps? Cosmopolitan?”
Harry shrugged, determinedly looking back at the computer.
He settled more comfortably on the couch, picking up the book and beginning again where he’d left off.
Twenty minutes of covert spying later, Lee came in, muttering colourful curses as he threw his keys onto the table and struggled out of his coat.
“Bad day, sweet thing?” Just-call-me-Jim said languidly, turning a page, and Harry winced. Lee in a bad mood was *not* going to react to that well.
Then he blinked, as all the tension in Lee’s body seemed to disappear, and he smiled, leaning over the back of the couch.
“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?”
“My apartment got broken into last night, and Dorian told me I had to stay somewhere else tonight,” he shrugged.
“You couldn’t stay at a hotel?” Harry asked darkly, and the blond smiled a little.
“I could, but the company here is far better.”
Harry coloured slightly.
Lee leaned further over the back of the couch, hooking a hand behind his boyfriend’s head and pulling him up into a kiss that seemed sweet, gently, and toe-curlingly thorough.
Harry’s teeth gritted.
It wasn’t that he didn’t *like* James.
He just didn’t trust him.
He’d never seen Lee fall this far, this hard.
He’d never seen Lee fall at all, before this. Sure, there were girlfriends, even the occasional boyfriend, but he’d never seen the kind of tiny, wondrous smile that was on Lee’s face when he finally pulled away from the blond.
Pratik poked him in the back of the head.
“Hey!” Harry yelped, turning around and looking at Pratik strangely.
His boyfriend rolled his eyes, slipping onto the arm of Harry’s chair, and leaned down, whispering into Harry’s ear, “Don’t just look at Lee, next time.”
Harry sighed, but obligingly closed his laptop, letting Pratik slide into his lap.
“Pratik wants to know if you’re staying for dinner,” Harry said, when Pratik elbowed him gently.
“I’d love to,” Lee’s boyfriend said, smiling at them, and settling happily against Lee when the drummer fell onto the couch next to him.
Harry smiled back plastically, and Pratik elbowed him again.
So three out of three replies say “yes”…
…so I will be reblogging the Jam£s AU fics over the next couple of days! I will tag them all and set up a page in the sidebar so they can be easily accessible in the future.
Jam£s - Blah Blah Blah (DJ Skeet Skeet Radio Remix)
Jam£s - TiK ToK (Chuck Buckett’s Veruca Salt Remix)
