Itch
by Helen

"I itch," Chris announced, coming out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of shorts, swiping at his wet hair with a towel.

"That's nice," JC said, not looking up from his book.

"I really itch," Chris said, wiggling his shoulders uncomfortably "Jesus. This is the last time I use that soap you oily skinned mofos use."

JC nodded and kept reading.

"Where is everyone, anyway?" Chris said.

"Asleep."

"Mmm," Chris said, and twisted his arm up behind his back, trying to scratch. A moment later he let out an exasperated breath and draped himself over the back of the sofa.

"Hey."

"What?"

"JC—" Chris said ingratiatingly.

"No."

"Come on. I'll be your best friend. Please? Please, please?"

"Is there any way I'm going to be allowed to continue reading in peace?"

"No."

"Fine. c'mere."

"Oh, man, you will not regret this," Chris said and dropped down on the couch next to him, turning sideways.

"I bet," JC said, and he put one hand on Chris' back, flipping back to his book.

"Oh, no no no, you gotta," Chris twisted expressively against him, "Please, JC, you don't understand, here. I itch."

"Fine," JC sighed, and put his book down. Chris hitched closer, and made a contented noise when JC put his hands on his shoulders.

"You owe me," JC said.

"Oh, umm," Chris said, and pushed back against his hands, "down a little. oh. god. yeah. right under the. yeah," and he had pressed back so far by this point that he was practically in JC's lap. He'd put his hand down on JC's knee and was squeezing it a little, head bent down, "harder," he mumbled, and then JC hit a really good place, and he didn't say anything else.

It was like having a dog, JC thought, as he slid his nails along the sharp ridge of Chris' shoulderblades and down to the small of his back, and Chris twitched slightly, sighing deeply. JC smiled to himself and scraped his fingers gently down Chris' spine, and then back up. Chris sighed again, and JC traced his fingers down his sides and along his waistband, and Chris made slight animal snuffling sounds. Then, as if he knew what JC was thinking, Chris leaned back quickly, turned his head, and nipped him sharply on the shoulder before falling away, laughing, teeth glinting.

JC usually let Joey and Justin take care of the roughhousing end of things, but this time he reached out and grabbed at Chris, catching the fabric of his pants right above his knee, which made Chris lose his balance and fall down into the space between the couch and coffee table, pulling JC down on top of him. Chris grunted as he hit the ground, and JC nearly lost his balance, falling hard on one knee, but he recovered and poked his fingers into Chris' stomach, running his hands up Chris' bare ribs. Chris grabbed at his wrists and missed, partly because he was already laughing, and JC caught one arm and pinned it with his knee while Chris shouted

"You bastard—," and twisted underneath him.

"You bit me," he said, and tickled him harder, until Chris said

"I give, I—oh, man."

"Hey, hey, you think you could be a little quieter, you bastards," Justin said, appearing in the doorway, scrubbing at his face.

"But he's—"

"I don't give a shit," Justin said, "Just shut up." He turned and walked back through the doorway into the back of the bus.

JC looked down at Chris, whose face was pink. His eyes were glistening a little, and his breath was still hitching a bit. JC could feel his chest heaving against his thighs. Chris smiled at him.

"Hey. I'll still be your best friend," he whispered. "Okay?"