Work Text:
Dear diary, I’ve sorely neglected you but you’ve been resurrected because there’s absolutely no one else I can talk to about this. This aberration of desire is driving me crazy.
I have discovered that I am a sexual creature. Who would have believed that prudish virginal Joey Potter could have such rampant desires? I did suspect it of myself, while at the same time denying and ignoring it, but I had only ever dreamed of kissing one boy, Dawson. But when it finally happened, it wasn’t long before I started feeling unfulfilled, he didn’t understand me as well as I thought he did. I still loved him, but I needed to know who I was without him. That didn’t work out so well, though. I started dating Jack and my sexual curiosity increased. My relationship with Jack didn’t last either though.
My current nightmare is that the boy, who only last year I had written off as an un-kiss worthy cretin, has given me the horniest dreams of my life. The unreciprocated ‘confused and surprised’ kiss he planted on me a few months ago had been pleasant. I admitted it to myself but that was all - which left me completely unprepared for the most erotic dream about him that night. I woke from it as if I’d been shot, sweating, panting, throbbing. A sex dream about Pacey Witter? It scared the hell out of me. I avoided him the next day at school but I dreamt about him again that night too! I’ve got it under control now. Working hard at The Ice house, studying till late and a few sneaked shots of whiskey ensured that when I fell into bed I slept the sleep of the dead, too exhausted to dream. They’ve stopped. Unfortunately, I still remember most of the details and I am more than confused and surprised by this weird, inexplicable development. I’m terrified I’ll forever dream about Pacey doing unspeakably pleasurable things to me in one long orgiastic nightmare.
It makes no sense. Pacey and I have always fought like cat and dog. He’s a clown, a screw up, crude, exasperating, sex obsessed and a whole host of other unmentionables. It’s Dawson I love, so why do I keep having dirty thoughts about Pacey?
Next week is the winter themed formal. I followed my sister Bessie’s recipe and I’m bringing pumpkin pie. I’ve already bought a present for the gift exchange and written an essay about its background. Easy enough considering I hate dances and cooking. The real hard part will be the event itself. Dawson has been hinting about us getting back together and he’ll probably ask me at the dance. How can we reconcile while I’m lusting after Pacey? I don’t even like Pacey! Much. Well, I do, but not like that. Except, it is kind of like that now. What if he asks me to dance? Maybe, I should be worrying about the here and now, instead. Pacey’s coming over tonight. Mr Trevane has asked me to help him with trig. God help me.
**************
Pacey lounged back on Joey’s bed, supported by his elbows, legs splayed out and relaxed, feet dangling a few inches off the floor.
“What? Not even a hand job?”
”No!” God! Why had she allowed Pacey to distract her with this conversation?
”Why not?”
”That’s none of your business!” Joey bit her lip as again her gaze keep being drawn to his crotch area. Did he have to spread his legs out like that on her bed?
”Poor Dawson. He must have been gagging for it.” Pacey smirked impishly at Joey’s obvious discomfort,.
Turning to her desk, she snatched up her little nephew’s rubber duck sitting atop the bowl of bananas next to the cookie jar, and threw it at him. “Shut up. Not every guy is as sex crazed as you are, Pacey Witter!”
”You mean Dawson never went down on you, Joey Potter?” He grinned, as she struggled to find an appropriate expletive. ”Well,” he continued, rubbing a hand through tousled dark hair, ”that makes some sense considering you’ve never given him a favor to return, huh?”
Joey fought the blush fighting its way to her face. It wasn’t that she’d never thought about herself and Dawson doing such things. Once they had become a couple, such thoughts had increased tenfold in Joey’s fantasies. They just...never got that far before they’d split up.As usual, Pacey was trying to make her squirm. She leaned back against her desk, affecting an air of nonchalance.
”Oh, and you’re such a fount of knowledge on the subject of cunnilingus, aren’t you Pacey Witless. ”
He shot her a knowing look and she rolled her eyes at him.
”I’m as much an expert at trig as you are at fellatio, my Prudish Potter. Give me another cookie.”
Pacey’s aptitude for trig wasn’t half bad. He hid his intelligence beneath the clowning and self-deprecating humor. He wouldn’t apply himself and became easily distracted. Hence the abandonment of study time and the start of this whole conversation.
He waggled his eyebrows at her and Joey narrowed her eyes in disgust back at him. He saw through the bravado, and admired her for it. Joey could be easily riled and embarrassed, but never one to admit defeat too soon.
She wasn’t wearing a bra. His eyes kept being drawn to the soft curves beneath her red tank top, brief enough to reveal glimpses of bare skin above the waist of her jeans whenever she moved.
"I’m not your anything,” she muttered, “and no more cookies for you. Your last two answers were wrong.”
“My last answer was correct. You’re no expert at blow jobs.”
Thunderous brows descended above dark, doe eyes. “Look, we were trying to have a serious conversation here, remember?”
He ignored Joey’s death stare. “Look, I’m more than happy to grade you on your skills.”
“What?”
“Consider it thanks for tutoring me in trig. Now, take one of those bananas, peel it and insert into mouth–“
“You can damn well bite me, Pacey!”
“You know better than to give me ideas like that, Potter.” Pacey straightened up from the bed.
“You come one step near me and I’ll shove that banana right where-“
“Whoa! Okay, okay.” Pacey laughed heartily and subsided back onto the bed. “You’re so easy, Potter.”
“Do you want to pass trig or not? I don’t have to do this.”
“Well, actually, Mr Trevane-“
“Pacey!” she huffed, exasperation suffusing her face an angry red. “I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact that you know Dawson and I so well, I wouldn’t bother with this conversation.”
“All right, I’ll be serious. Please continue.”
”Right, well, friendship? Familiar territory. Being a couple? Unfamiliar territory. In fact, downright scary territory. The transition from friends to lovers is a fragile and difficult thing.”
”Lovers?” Pacey scoffed, and Joey folded her arms across her chest and scowled.
“I’m sorry, does the expert have something he wants to say?”
“I’m glad you acknowledge the higher wisdom before you.”
"I don’t actually. I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it’s yourself. And somebody loves you, I’m sure. Oh yes, yet again that would be you, yourself. Study time is over, Pacey. Go home. I’m not talking to you about this anymore.”
”Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Carry on.” The Dawson and Joey dynamic had always intrigued him on some level, even if for the most part their back and forth sorely frustrated and annoyed. Now, he had good reason to hate it. Besides, what the hell did he have to go home to? ”Honestly, Joey. I’ll behave.”
“Well…” She peered at him, suspicious of his angelic expression of expectancy and the wide blue-green innocent stare.
“Continue,” he encouraged.
“It’s well known that friends who become boyfriend and girlfriend can ruin the actual friendship they had in the first place.” She looked for understanding in Pacey’s face and he nodded in agreement. She ducked her head. ”I didn’t want to rush things with Dawson. I mean, well, we have plenty of time to do…stuff.” She trailed off.
”That last sentence sounds suspiciously like present tense sentence structure, Potter.” He wagged a finger. ”Which by my reckoning means, that even though you were the one who dumped Dawson, expertly breaking his heart in the process, you are expecting to get back together with him again at some point?”
“I – no, not necessarily.”
“Oh come on, Jo. You don’t think you’ll don your rose tinted spectacles for the dance next week, romanticizing the moment when Dawson tells you he wants you back?”
“No! But…you can’t choose who you love.”
“No,” his lashes fell, hiding his expression from her, “you sure as hell can’t.”
“Something to confess? You in love, Pacey?” Joey eyed him with a curiosity that became distracted as her eyes traveled over his torso. He’d filled out over the summer, his biceps were definite proof of that and the way his t-shirt stretched across his torso indicated the same for the rest of his body.
“Are you kidding? Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. I’m steering well clear.”
“That’s understandable, considering the Miss Jacobs debacle.”
He raised dark hooded eyes, but remained silent. The disastrous end to his secret affair with his English teacher, which became very much public knowledge, wasn’t a subject he wanted to revisit. Time to get back to making Joey squirm.
“I wouldn’t have expected a cynic like you to believe in fairytales, but you do keep going back to each other. Don’t worry, Joey. Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect. Which, I suppose, is when Dawson will make a woman of the sweet virginal Josephine Potter, right?”
“I’m already more of a woman than you know!” She flicked a disdainful glance his way, tossing her dark hair back. Oh, why was it when he showed signs of being kind and sensitive, he had to ruin it? She didn’t know why she confided in him sometimes. Groaning inwardly, she batted away images of him from her dreams.
“Really? Care to demonstrate?”
Something in his voice snapped her attention back to him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. What did that gleam in his eyes mean?
His gaze settled on hers, then dropped to caress her mouth, followed the line of her long, graceful neck to her collarbone, bare except for the thin straps of her top. His eyes shot back up to hers. She stared unflinchingly back at him. Waiting a beat, he let his eyes drop to her chest.
Joey’s heart somersaulted in her chest and thumped out a wild tempo. His tongue darted out to lick dry lips as his eyes lingered on her breasts, tracing their shape.
By now, Joey would have already turned away, calling him all kinds of names under the sun. This wasn’t the first time they’d played this game. Well, it was, since she’d started dating Dawson, but she wasn’t his anymore and she continued to withstand Pacey’s scrutiny. No backing down this time.
Pacey noted the shallow rapid rise and fall of her chest and wondered for the millionth time in his life what her breasts looked and felt like. A guilty pang hit him for thinking about his best friend’s ex-girlfriend in that way, he ignored it.
His gaze wandered leisurely back up to hers. Tilting her head flirtatiously, the challenge her own held had his stomach tightening. He returned an insolent smile and slid back down again, skimming her stomach area, lower now, slipping a look back to her face to gauge her reaction every second or so, until he settled on the apex between her legs. Any second now she was bound to throw something at his head and start yelling. Instead, she did something that made his heart flip flop and increased the stirring in his pants.
Slowly and deliberately, Joey parted and leaned further back on the desk. She saw Pacey’s quick swallow, the surprise that fired his eyes as they darted up to hers. What she liked even more was the obvious reaction in his pants that he didn’t try to hide. He held her gaze for a second then dropped his own.
Pacey had chosen the wrong day to goad her about her lack of sexual experience. Just once, she wanted to put him in his place. If he thought she was going to back down now in prudish outrage, he was wrong. A part of her squirmed with mortification. A bigger part writhed with a rising ardor. Pacey wasn’t hiding the pure molten heat of his expression as he explored her body. Her body responded; the fluttering in her stomach, a steady throb between her thighs, her nipples tightening. Pacey. Pacey was doing this to her. Joey flicked out her tongue and licked her lips. Languorous warmth filled her, complimenting the rhythmic pulsing in her groin. The room around them receded away. They were aware only of each other.
Oh, what he wouldn’t give right now for Joey to strip off her top and jeans and strike up that pose again in just her panties. He panted softly through his mouth. Joey had upped the ante. Clever girl, but she didn’t know Pacey Witter. He straightened and stood, and was rewarded with the flare of panic in Joey's face and a slight stiffening of her body. His gaze mocked her and he raised a brow at her as if to say, give up, Potter? She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, her chin firming and rising another inch in muted defiance.
He took a slow measured step and another. Their eyes bored into each other’s. He wanted to win as always, but things were a little different this time round. Joey was Dawson’s ex-girlfriend, not just his tomboy friend but, neither one was prepared to back down.
Pacey dropped his gaze to her breasts again and almost swore aloud when he saw her nipples jutting proudly against her top. He was sure his legs wobbled, but he stepped closer. His hand came out slowly, and pushed her hair back from one side of her face, tucking it behind her ear, ignoring Joey’s snatched gasp of air. She raised her eyes to his and saw the amusement lurking there. Something else, too.
“Did she teach you well, Pacey?” she breathed, referring to Miss Jacobs.
He smiled enigmatically, fingering her tresses. “Your hair,” he mused, “it’s the thick and silky, the kind a man can imagine a woman trailing down his body.”
It was Joey’s turn to swallow hard. Compliments from Pacey were a rare thing. Did he really think that?
With a lock trapped between his fingers, he gazed at her. ”And you’re eyes are beautiful. They can make a guy imagine you’re thinking all kinds of horny things about him - or kill him dead at twenty paces.” He grinned.
Joey shook her head. She opened her mouth without knowing what she was going to say and snapped it shut when Pacey’s fingers left her hair to trail a thumb along her top lip, before sweeping it along her bottom one.
”Do your lips taste as sweet as they look?” Holding her gaze, he trailed a forefinger over her chin, down her neck and along her collarbone. “And is your skin as smooth as this all over? If I touched you, would you feel like satin under my hands? Under my mouth?” The timbre of his voice was doing crazy things to her insides. She’d never heard Pacey sound like that; husky, intimate, lover like, and when his eyes dropped to her breasts again, she felt her heart stop
She watched his face. Was this still a game? If he touched her… Would he dare? Would she let him? God! She couldn’t believe she was even contemplating the thought! She shivered and felt her nipples tighten further than she thought possible.
"Sweet temptation,” he breathed. If he thought for a second that Joey would let him, he’d strip her of her top right now. Pinning her with dark, intense eyes she couldn’t escape, his forefinger and thumb played with the thin strap on one shoulder, fingering it, pushing it aside and pulling it back. “If you’d let me, I’d kiss your breasts all over, softly, until you’d be so ready for me to close my mouth over each hard nipple -”
“Pacey-” she trembled.
“Would you let me, Joey? Suck-”
“Pace!”
“- and lick and –”
She couldn’t take anymore. This was just a game. A battle of wills. This is what she and Pacey always did. Traded barbs and insults. Tussled for one-upmanship over each other. But this had gone much further than ever before and threatened to get worse. This wasn’t a Pacey and Joey she was familiar with. This was scary. For a multitude of reasons.
She clapped a hand over his mouth, a warning light in her eyes. ”Still reading Penthouse, huh? You win this one, okay?”
He raised his eyebrows, eyes dancing and nodded vigorously. He understood. Relief flooded his body, but it warred with the disappointment in his head and his pants! She snatched her hand back from his mouth.
"She did teach you well, didn’t she?”
No answer, but the spell was well and truly broken now. They both expelled a heavy breath and she too was relieved, and irritated, to see his familiar cocky grin make its appearance.
”Get lost, Pacey.” It was supposed to sound sharp and snappy. Instead, it came out breathy. Their eyes locked, Joey’s slid away. He brushed against her as he moved past, leaning into her a little as he softly, but clearly said, ”Chicken,” before he sauntered to the door. Joey clasped her trembling fingers.
”Dickhead!”
”More than a woman,” he sang, dancing a little at the door and opening it. ”Oh, sorry, you don’t know that tune, do you?”
Grabbing a book off her desk, Joey threw it at him. He ducked and slipped out of the door.
“I thought I was about to taste the sweetest cookie of all but…” He took in her expression, thought about the fragility of their friendships, “but the ice queen made her usual appearance. Poor Dawson.”
”You’re an asshole,” she spat.
”Brat! ” he shot at her as he closed the door.
“Jailbait!” she yelled at the door. “What the hell was Miss Jacob’s thinking?”
He opened the door and poked his head through. ”If you wanna try playing in the big league again, Josephine, I’m willing to give you another chance,” he teased. ”Tune in next week. Same time, same place.” He did a good impression of an announcer’s voice over. They stared at each other for a long second. ”Or maybe not. See ya, Potter!”
*****************
Like this essay is ever going to see the light of day. I haven’t even bought a present for the gift exchange yet. Imagine giving this in to class – admitting I have the hots for one Joey Potter – instead of a boring explanation of what my secret Santa gift is all about.
Either way, I am a dead man walking. Because it’s a crime to feel this way. To want her the way I want her – when she’s not mine. To try to act on that want would be a mistake of gargantuan proportions. The consequences of such an action could be likened to the mountains falling into the sea creating devastating tsunamis, volcanoes spewing forth molten lava that crack open the earth releasing hungry demons led by hounds of hell with mighty slavering jaws. And their target? My ass, should I dare to execute the simple act of kissing her - again. God, I want to kiss her so badly. It can’t happen so I do the next best thing. I gotta be near her, near enough to breath the same air she breathes. She’s so fucking beautiful and she doesn’t even know it. She makes me feel…hungry. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. That hunger, it’s like some clawing thing sitting around my heart raking at my chest to get out and it gets worse with every day that goes by. I just have to look at her sometimes and I get hot and hard. The lemon and spice scent of her hair wafts around my senses and I get hot and hard. She accidentally brushes against me, I get hot and hard. She tosses her hair, scowls and tells me to bite her and I get hot and hard. She… I think you get the drift. It’s hell having no control over the raging hormones that are part and parcel of being a normal teenager. Agony and torture, and speaking of torture, let’s add another excruciating layer of pain to it. Dawson. The girl that I adore is in love with my best friend who in no uncertain terms regards her as his soul mate, his property, although she’d hate that sentiment.
So where does that leave me? I can’t do anything about it. She’d kick my ass all over town and he’d disown me. I can’t lose them. I should know better. I’ve kissed her once before. I told her I was confused, surprised and attracted that day. She…was just confused and surprised. So I buried that attraction before it could grow legs and run away from me and I stuck it deep down and forgot about it – until now. Now, they’re not together anymore, and it’s back full force. Now it has teeth and claws. Now, it refuses to be denied, repressed, admonished and it’s scaring the hell out of me.
I can’t risk losing the tenuous friendship we’ve developed this year or the usual witty repartee that forms part of our infantile, name-calling banter that’s been part of our repertoire for the last ten years. Without my friends, I have nothing. I’m in the same boat as her. Our dysfunctional family lives drove us to bask in the golden glow of Dawson’s Leery’s idealistic cinematic world. He’s a great friend to have when all’s right with it, but go off script? Or try to ad lib? Then he develops teeth. He becomes a self-righteous, arrogant bastard and every time I’ve stepped out of the role he’s cast me in, I’ve been in the firing line. To Dawson, this would be a betrayal our friendship could never come back from. So, at the formal next week I’ll have to watch them dance together, knowing that Dawson plans to ask her to be his girlfriend again. She’ll probably say yes. I’ll continue to be the bystander to their never-ending cycle of co-dependency.
Man, I thought writing this all down would relieve some tension, help me make sense of all this, or make it clear that I should absolutely, one hundred percent close the book on this and forget it forever. I don’t know. Is she worth it? My gut tells me yes, my heart screams yes but I don’t know. I think I see heartbreak in my future either way, because she loves Dawson, will always love him and her feelings for me will never be more than confused and surprised. And it’s killing me.