Far from Perfect

Yes, I’m alive. I haven’t disappeared off the face of the planet and my user name has changed. You guys might not believe this, but I did try and post the third part all of last and this week. Why didn’t I? Because the freakin’ site wouldn’t let me log on. I tried a humorous amount of variations for ‘Jaded June’ and none of them worked until today. So *damn* frustrating! At that time I also realized that in order to post the next chapter, I actually had to have something written. *gasp* I pasted all three chapters together into one long one instead of having to add them separately.

But, thank you so very much for the reviews and I promise to update more in the future. If it takes unbelievably long for an update, it might be the site messing with my proverbial balls again. Hang in there, ya’ll.

~Jaded June


*Ch.1*

It was finally Friday. The prospect of another gloomy morning made getting up from the comfort of his bed highly difficult. The shrill screech of the alarm clock had him slamming the \'snooze\' button in practiced precision. Tumbling out of bed as he did so and landing with a heavy thump on his ass.

\"Stupid...fuckin\'..damn..thing..\" He mumbled the expletives groggily under his breath. Raking his hand tiredly through his bed-head hair and drumming his fingers idly on his chest. The last days of school were lingering faintly closer until he could almost grasp them it if he just reached far enough. They held many alluring promises of Frat parties in tow. Of course, he had to go to College and work til his hands hung at his sides an extra foot; that didn\'t mean he was gonna do it smiling.

The strong and stale aroma of beer and god knows only what else had turned his mouth into a proper garbage disposal area. Taking another lung full of air, he pats his soar ass and heads for the bathroom for a quick shower.

A spray of almost-but-not-too-cold water cascades down his body and barely manages to fully wake him up. Alright, waking up means drinking a few cups of coffee and listening to music til he can\'t hear correctly for a few days. Still, his subconscious is slightly feeling the irking tickle to kick into full gear. Some time during the day if not soon.

He stares at himself in the mirror. A towel hanging haphazardly across his waist and his sculpted torso gleaming with droplets of water. A goop of gel is quickly run through his still wet hair and he goes about making it a masterpiece of pointy twist and twine. Each strand glowing a leather black in the dim light. His eyes swirling in continuous circles of chocolate and something deep. Like fine whiskey and honey. Like dull gold.

\"Jason! Jason, baby, you\'re gonna be late. You\'ve just got a few more days and I\'m beggin\' ya to go with no problems for once...do it fo me.\" His mom yells upstairs, knowing that she\'s pleading, but too tired and worn out to care.

Almost every day he arrives late for school. Fashionably late, yet late none the less. Trish has gone to the principal\'s office so many times that the counseling staff has come to accept her as one of their own. Though the principal is not too keen on it and always tries his best to find a way to properly suspend Jason. The only minor factor being that Jason is football captain and lead player- this with holds any further action from commencing.

As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he notices that Trish is standing there in a flower pattern skirt and v-neck pink top. Looking highly formal and casual. Looking highly suspicious for someone that calls a jeans and t-shirt \'The work of God himself\'.

\"So what\'s the story, morning-glory?\" He asks skeptically. Prepared for just about anything and nothing.

\"Babe, don\'t tell me you forgot? \'Cause I told you a million times but Lord knows where your head is half the time-\"

\"What are you talking about?\" He folds his arms across his chest and adopts a confused frown.

\"Airport? Suzie\'s boy coming over from good jolly ole England?\" She says the latter part with a fake British accent that just about kills his ears and makes him bleed. His frown deepens in apathy.

\"He\'s coming today?\" He shakes his head, amused.

\"That moma\'s boy all growed up. Sure he\'ll be able to take care of himself without crying for his mommy every night?\" He smirks and stalks to the kitchen.

\"Hon, the last time you saw him was when you were five. He was supposed to be whiny and crying and drooling all over the place.\" Jason snorts into his milk and wipes the white mustache quickly with a swipe of his hand.

\"Oh, yes. He won\'t cry anymore. \'Cause Charlie\'s a big boy now. He only carries around one protective blanket instead of two.\" He mutters loudly as he drinks the rest of his milk and chews his peanut butter sandwich.

\"Now, I\'ll have none of that. When you get home today, he\'ll already be here. Remember, treat him nice because his going to be our *guest*,\" she says slowly, \"notice how I emphasized the \'guest\' bit.\"

\"Sure, Trish. I\'ll be a real good boy.\" He grins lecherously and gives her a quick kiss to the cheek before he slams the door behind him. The tires of the car screeching and rubbing nastily on the asphalt as he drives away.

\"Why don\'t I get a good feeling about this?\" Trish mumbles to herself nervously. Preparing to head for the airport with an uneasy feeling squeezing around her heart.

Simultaneously sure that Jason and Charlie were going to be best friends forever and despise each other longer than that.


*Ch.2*

\"So, you going make him cry on the first day?\" Pam asked Jason, smirking like a content, Cheshire cat.

\"I dunno... I\'ve got a lot of home work. Might not even come out of my room except for dinner. Let him think he\'s safe.\" Jason grinned, his pearly whites shining in the cool afternoon sun. Pam smacked him playfully on his arm and mildly tsked.

\"You mean you\'re gonna actually do homework? That word seems so foreign and strange when I put it in a sentence with you.\"

\"He says he\'s gonna do work, but dawg, we know you better than that. You underestimate my knowledge in you, bro.\"

\"Just what exactly do you do in your spare time, D? Stalk me? Didn\'t figure you for being something other than a pure het, man...\"

\"You know what I mean.\" Derek replied abruptly. \"Don\'t make me smack that snarky ass of yours, Jase.\"

\"And you\'re het, I can\'t believe it. Talking about smacking a guy\'s ass. Probably fantasizing about this little piece of-\" Jason dodged to the side as Derek tried to dive bomb into him and catch him in a headlock, but only managed to accidentally trip Pam instead.

Derek scowled and collected the pieces of his hindered, but precious ego, and then helped Pam back on her feet. She gave both of them the evil eye of doom and walked ahead with the girls.

\"So. You. Home work. Right?\"

\"Yeah. I\'ve got an essay bigger than my balls.\"

\"Meaning?\"

\"It\'s a whole lotta essay. But, all is not lost, my impatient friend. I\'ll make up for wasted Attack-the-new-kid gig when I\'m done. I might even call you up. Should be fun to watch.\" Jason grinned lasciviously as he climbed into his forest green Jeep. Setting his backpack in the back of the car and waving to Derek who roared away in his new mustang. Head and car shining like a pair of black polished boots in the heat. The mustang being dubbed as D\'s \"Baby Girl\". Derek had even come up with a line to heighten the importance the highly polished hunk of metal signified to him: \"Ain\'t no lady ever comin\' close to my Baby\". That about summarized it.

In all honesty, when the protective and self defense walls came down, he was kinda anxious about meeting Charlie. How had he changed? What would he look like? Still the prissy moma\'s boy or had he developed into a proper English thorn? Ready to pierce him and make him want to squish him without a second thought. Imagines him in a pair of bug-eye glasses and his chin raised so high it could dent the house roof. Probably wearing clothes his mom picked out for him, and stammering like a cute, teensy weensy school boy every time someone addressed him. Oh, dear, but this could prove to be too much fun.

He drove into the drive way and jumped leisurely out of his Jeep. Taking his time, but not necessarily stalling. He was just admiring the handiwork that had gone into fixing his baby up. He bought it for a thousand and spent another thousand just fixing it back up and making sure that it was suitable for two minute travels. His pride and joy, it was. Shelly. Yeah, naming your car ain\'t so macho, but he has some viable and good reasons for doing so. He just hasn\'t thought of them yet.

\"Mother of mine! I\'m home!\" He smiled when he heard laughter and voices emanating from the living room. Jason dropped his belongings at the foot of the stairs, ran a hand through his hair, and headed for the living room area.

His mom was sitting in front of him on the divan, and there was a guy sitting with his back to him in an arm chair. A guy with white blond, platinum hair that almost made him squint his eyes. Something that shiny shouldn\'t be allowed in the light of day. But he might come in handy if ever there\'s an electricity shortage.

Confused, his smile slackened. Wasn\'t little Charlie with his curly brown hair supposed to be here?

Trish stopped in mid conversation and motioned for Jason to come further into the room from where he\'d rooted to the spot.

\"Babe, don\'t stand there. Come in.\"

The head turned around and a pair of the most deepest eyes of blue focused on him. They were like light sapphire stones, multifaceted and endless. Jason\'s smile totally wavered and he just frowned at the amused figure.

\"Jason, hon, this is Charlie. I didn\'t recognize him at the airport but when I caught sight of him, I knew it was him. He\'s got Suzie\'s eyes and John\'s cheek bones. Quite the looker.\" She winked flirtatiously.

\"Stop it, luv. You\'re making me blush.\" Charlie smirked at Trish and walked over to Jason, extending his hand amiably. Jason tried to do in kind, but found that his brain had stopped working ever since Trish said this guy- hunky model, type guy-who so couldn\'t be Charlie, was in fact Charlie. I mean, how the hell can people get off looking like this and not get molested in the process?

He willed the dense fog that had settled over his now Neanderthal brain to precipitate, and shook Charlie\'s hand. He had a girl\'s hand. So delicate-looking and white, white, milk skin. Not much sun in England, Jason presumed.

\"So, Jason. You\'ve changed. School Jock?\"

\"So, Charlie. You\'ve changed, too. School nerd?\" Jason congratulated himself on getting his groundings back and relaxed as he settled into his snarky mode. Skipping the kind, nonsense chit-chatter and already delivering the blows. Nice start.

\"You got me. However, I don\'t think you can really classify me as a nerd. Am into drama and acting, though.\" Charlie replied honestly, and seated himself in the arm chair again.

\"Right, guys. You do talking thing and I\'ll go do the Mom-pretending-she-can-cook-thing and fix you something edible for lunch before I set my master dinner. Sure to blow your socks off, Charlie. Or for that matter, any other body part if I end up screwing it completely over...\" Her voice drifted off as she went to the kitchen.

\"This is a new look. What do you call it? Rebel without a clue?\" Jason asked as he perched himself on the divan armrest and crossed his arms. Eyeing Charlie intently. Not too intently that it appeared he was being studied under a microscope, but just enough that Charlie would feel like the prey. Jason knew how uncomfortable he could make people feel. How intimidating he could be. But why the hell was he smiling? That didn\'t bode well with Jason.

\"Oh, Jason. You feeling threatened, pet?\" Charlie tilted his head and studied him with a sly smirk.

\"Threatened of the guy who dumped a bucket of bleach onto his head? Not likely.\" Jason replied back. The smirk and head-tilty act pissing him off unreasonably.

\"So you treat all your guest like this, officer?\"

\"Nah. Only the special ones.\"

\"\'M touched. Really.\" He feigned with a hand over his heart.

\"Don\'t be. You don\'t know which type of special you register in my book.\"

\"Ah, now that\'s not very nice, Jason. Don\'t think your mum would like hearing that you\'re treating me bad.\"

\"What, Charlie Boy? You\'re feeling\'s got hurt? Let me take a moment to care.\" Jason waited a second and then sighed; relieved. \"Glad that\'s over.\"

Charlie got up from the chair, walked, no, stalked towards where Jason was perched precariously on the couch and almost completely invaded Jason\'s personal bubble. Jason glared up at him, face set in a hardened smirk.

Charlie lowered his head and leveled himself til he was eye to eye with Jason. Bringing his head slightly forward and almost whispering into Jason\'s ear.

\"Oh, I plan on making you care, Jason. So much dear boy.\" The words like a cold caress that made Jason want to shudder; he barely suppressed the urge. Charlie sauntered out of the room with a satisfied smirk etched into his features. Leaving Jason distraught.

Distraught and for some crazy, unfathomable, and hilarious reason, turned on.


*Ch.3* Finally!

(Jason’s POV. You get to see what perversions he’s thinking ;) ... that sly dog...)

Why am I still sitting here with my ass glued to the sofa, you may ask?

Oh yeah. That\'s because Charlie just practically flirted with me for the first time after a very long time of mutual dislike. All of this actually resulting with him not grabbing a blanket and crying the Nile. Color me surprised. What was it that Trish sometimes says? A crackpot never gives up his crack? Something disturbingly similar, I\'m sure.

Totally off the tangent there, going back to my previous predicament, I\'m slightly less baffled now that my libido is cruising within proximal wave lengths as my brain. Really, who knew Charlie was gonna grow a hefty pair? That\'s kinda like saying D\'s going to miraculously give up the sinful act of consuming too much liquor and see the ghastly error of his ways. Or put hiatus to fucking a minimum of one girl every three days instead of two. Not going to happen and very much not plausible. I may think through my ass at times, but that doesn\'t generally mean my head\'s permanently stuck. And I don\'t generalize things too much. Enough complications with having a brain and dick found on opposite ends of your body already.

I manage to uproot myself with some difficulty from the couch and swagger to the kitchen. The chit-chat fills the place with a nice, warm homey feeling. Trish is already attached to her Blond Boy of magic wonder, and that\'s honestly fine with me.

\"So, tell me Charlie, hon. Any boy friends I should know about? Any secrets you\'re willing to share?\" She\'s using her alluring and cunning Charm de Trish to extract secrets from this perfect stranger. Her gay-dar turned up a few notches too high.

\"I don\'t have one boy friend in particular. I just hang out with the boys and go where the gale of the wind carries me.\"

\"Aw, how sweet. A poetic queer. You can represent the mass stereotype wearing rainbow spandex and spouting Shakespeare.\"

\"Jason, shut your mouth! Don\'t fuckin\' disrespect my guest under my *roof*.\" She looks apologetically at Charlie, who\'s looking highly amused. \"Sorry, hon. Didn\'t mean to mouth off, but hey! Welcome to the family!\"

We band of queers. So refreshing to see a bright new shiny face. Livens the atmosphere; adds zing and pizaz. For example, Trish is practically glowing neon with motherly warmth and pride. Thinking for sure she has got the makings of an anti-homophobic club for our little town beginning with Charlie and me. Something I\'m not really looking forward to.

\"\'S alright, Trish,\" he kindly smiles at her, already addressing her as \"Trish\", \"I\'m used to hanging around blokes that are gay, but still aren\'t comfortable with adjusting around their peers. Jason seems to shine iridescently with this symptom.\" That bitch. No, not dog or any other derogatory term concerning the female species, but directly aimed at this new piece of foreign ass.

\"Maybe we can do each other a favor. When I finally manage to *fully* come out of the closet, I\'ll help you come to a swift realization that you aren\'t female, Wonder Boy. Feelings and all other emotional crap are just extra baggage. You\'re no fuckin\' girl. No need to snipe and titter with every cruel word I spout.\"

\"Really, hon. Don\'t expect anything from Jason. He\'s just a stubborn ass that in all reality cares mainly about himself and only *sometimes* remembers me during lunch hours and money orders.\" That was a bit harsh. But well coming with the way I\'m acting.

\"Feisty, Trish. I might be soulless, and lacking in the heart department, but I still care about you. And Jimmy boy here.\"

She raises one of her shapely eyebrows at that. Smirking slightly.

\"What? I care.\"

\"Pfft. Yeah right, sweetie.\"

\"So you do have a heart?\" He looks at me with that shit-eating grin. I\'m itching to smack it off his face. Or a slightly gentler method of removal can also be used...

\"Now that, Charlie, is what I call a myth.\" I smirk, barely acknowledging him as I help Trish with food preparations. Why is it that he\'s already gotten me into full attack mode at first meeting? That usually happens when I get to know the enemy a bit in my territory and analyze them. I guess Charlie\'s a quick study then.

He\'s checking me out discreetly, or so thinks. I can feel his eyes following and boring a hole into my back as I move around the kitchen and get lost in minor activities. The pants I\'m wearing are well worn and show off my rounded assets and long legs to the best of their advantage. Or so I\'ve been told. The white v-neck shirt I\'m wearing shapes my upper arm muscles and encloses around me like second skin. Defining my lean torso and drawing attention to the taut muscles in my back and abb area. As I\'ve been told, again.

Narcissism and egotism runs thickly in my veins. I like to display what I\'ve got. And I always get attention. I\'m not a slut, but I always get what I want. This situation doesn\'t look any different to me then countless others.

A bit of bleach and leather and now Charlie thinks he\'s king of the world. He has no idea what he\'s gotten himself into and I feel sickly joyous knowing that I\'m gonna be the one to pervert this proffered Adonis look-alike. This modern Michelangelo with a soft heart. Being a fag teaches you to close yourself off from the homophobes in society. I\'ve long lost my heart, but not in a million years will exchange my humor for fuck all.

\"I guess you like to write, don\'t you?\"

\"I do. It\'s a hobby of mine. I like to write poetry, as you so bloody kindly pointed out today.\"

\"Didn\'t mean to pick on you. But you\'re such a pretty target, Wonder Boy. Can you blame me?\"

\"No.\" He says, suspiciously for the first time today. He\'s perceptive. That\'s never good.

\"So what do you write? Love stories and romance novels? The heart breaking moment? The steamy sex scene? The \'lone tear traveling forlornly down\'?\" I grin.

He chuckles, shaking his head.

\"Jason, I think we\'re going to be great friends.\"

\"I know we are, Charlie Boy. I know we are.\"

And ain\'t that the fuckin\' truth.

Dinner was an interesting spectacle, to say the least. I could feel the fuzzy warmth of love in the air blanket us through out the feast. Intoxicating. Radiating an almost brilliant, tangible glow and making me thoroughly sick to my stomach. Fuck, this kid could kiss ass with the best of them. And why do I refer to him as ‘this kid’? Maybe it’s because he’s too different, too out of the loop. Too special.

Even adorned in his macho leather jacket and false bravado, there is an untarnished innocence that shimmers momentarily when his defensive walls unconsciously come down. My emotional fortress has kept strong for a good sum of my life. Emotions are a blatant weakness and a lethargic weapon in the hand of the enemy. And I don’t tend to hand out such weapons to strangers and just anybody.

“After that deliciously tongue numbing dinner, Trish, I find myself itching for a beer. To revive my tongue, that is.” I smile one of my most charming smiles that have won me over a thousand arguments to date and have gotten me into a few thousand conflicts more.

“I can cook, Jason. Just because you think butter, cheese, and carbohydrates are the worst things introduced to mankind doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” And I’m a freaking ballerina.

I smile apologetically at Charlie who seems to be liking this little show a little too much, and lay my hand gently on Trish’s shoulder as she places the dishes in the sink.

“Trisha, you cook a fine meal. I’m just a precocious and arrogant ass that likes pushing your buttons. I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Both of you: Shoo! Before you start heavily waxing poetical on my bum, Jase.” I lightly peck her on the cheek; mildly relieved that she can take as much as I can dish out. She’s not an easy person to live with. Then again, neither am I.

“Charlie boy, what you say to that? A night out in town. I’ll be your personal tour guide.” I think that I should keep my smiling down to a minimum. He seems more frightened than reassured.

“My personal tour guide...” He trails off as he goes to the living room to grab his jacket.

“What’re you gonna do to him, Jase?” Trish demands in a hurried rush.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t fuck around with me Jason.”

“Trish. I can’t believe your level of faith and trust in me is so damn little. I mean, he’s just a poor new kid in a big scary place where heteros run around with a plow and smack homosexuals over the head like fuckin’ gophers.” I frown. “Don’t you want him to become familiarized?”

The poorly concealed chuckle has me turning around and regarding my new “buddy” with a peculiar look of interest.

“Don’t you two do anything I wouldn’t do!” She yells as we walk nonchalantly towards the door.

“Don’t worry, *mom*.” I can practically see the pout and frown mix on her face as she tries to will her nerves to settle down. Protective to a fault. Simply Trish.


Nothing life altering or drastically dramatic happens on our ride to Venus. No, not the planet, but a club for those unsure or pretending to be confused of their gender preference. The only bi club in the city, may I emphasize. Charlie’s eyes are shining with city lights and are clouded over with images. He looks... nice in the sharp contrasts of different lighting.

“You’re different.”

“How did you imagine I’d be? Proud sponsor of Gays United?”

“No,” he bursts out, chuckling, ” I thought you’d be more... never mind.”

“Come on. I can imagine why you’d think otherwise with all the stories Trish and your mother might‘ve swapped through out the years.”

“For one thing, I thought you’d be more burly looking, possibly carrying around a club.”

“I don’t think you want to hear my initial reaction regarding you, Charlie boy.”

“And what’s up with ‘Charlie boy’? If you feel like butcherin’ my name, might as well call me Char. My friends do.” He says in a condescending tone. Aw, how sweet.

“Of course. Cuz Char is so much better. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly.”

He stares at me, noticeably surprised, with his eyebrows raised and a quick smirk playing across his features.

“Don’t you wish.”

You don’t know the half of it...

***
Me: Geez! Did you see that? *points up* That took me forever to write and because of adult.net, took me even longer to post.

Jason: Hooray. We care. So, now that you’ve got your dilemma solved momentarily, how about you skip the chit-chat and write?

Charlie: Bloody hell. *shakes head* You’re so impatient.

Jason: I’ve got a libido I need to maintain. I need my daily does... *eyes his crotch area*

Me: Guys. *sighs* Fine. Damn teenagers and their hormones and uber sexual tension and angst and.. *ducks as the guys throw a dildo aimed for her head*

;)