(“Wealth and fame, he’s ignored…action is his reward.”  --Webster/Harris)



Justin had had enough.  At first, JC’s little “I’m Spider-Man” game was kind of cute, in a fucked-up sort of way.  He would run around babbling about his “spider sense” and attempt to make leaps from one couch to another in the quiet room, more often than not falling on his ass and rubbing his hip gingerly.


“JC, this is called the quiet room for a reason,” Justin would say pointedly, but JC simply smiled prettily and shrugged, before waltzing out of the room, humming a very familiar theme song.


Justin thought it was all a result of that fucking movie.  They had seen it two weeks before the tour ended; a special private advance screening privy only to people in their sort of position.  The two-hour special-effects blitzkrieg had been enjoyable, but JC was smitten with the tale of ill-fated romance and sexual karma, and practically skipped out of the theatre when it was over.


“Spider-Man!  Spider-Man!  Does whatever a spider can!” He sang, shaking his little ass for all it was worth, drawing more than one stare from wary people in the parking lot.


“JC would you KNOCK IT OFF!” Justin hissed, but JC merely retaliated with “does whatever a spider can!  Spins a web!  Any size!  Catches thieves!  Just like flies!  Look out!  Here comes the Spider-Man!”


Justin gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel as they exited the parking lot.  JC just grinned and hummed happily to himself.




Two weeks later, they were having dinner with friends, and the topic of the movie rolled around.  Justin inwardly groaned, but offered polite conversation and smiled tightly as JC launched into a lengthy, animated dissertation on the finer points of the film.  When a pretty friend of theirs smiled and said, “you know, JC, you look just like Tobey Maguire,” JC had beamed, and offered to share his chocolate symphony with her.


Justin scowled.  JC was supposed to share his dessert with HIM.  Just because some dumb broad made the oh-so-obvious declaration that JC SORT OF looked like Tobey Maguire (and he didn’t, not really, so why was he making such a big deal of it?), he was left in the cold and had to eat his entire strawberry decadence sundae on his own.


Well.  Fine.  Sharing wasn’t all that fun, anyway.




Chris bought JC the gift as a joke.  It was something he saw in some magazine somewhere, a toy designed to ride the merchandising wave that always seems to crest when a hit film is released.


“Look, Justin!” JC squealed, the contraption strapped to his forearm.  “It shoots a web!  How fucking cool is that?!”


“It shoots silly string, dumbass,” Justin muttered, and watched as JC leaped in the air, pulling back on the lever that released a thin line of silly string in the air, which stuck to the wall much like a spider’s web.


“Go web go!” JC crowed, and Justin turned and headed down the hall, in search of Advil.




Justin thought things were going just a little too far when JC decided he was going to search for his one and only Mary Jane.


“Dude,” Justin said, exasperated.  “You’re fucking GAY!”


“I’m bi,” JC replied haughtily, “And maybe I’m leaning more toward girls now, so quit being such a bitch and back off.”


Justin was flabbergasted.



He avoided JC for the next few days, even though it was nearly impossible with them all up in each other’s faces all day, as was the pattern while they were on tour.  Justin had taken to drawing a big fat red “X” over each day on his calendar as it passed, desperate for the final day of the tour, which was decorated with big green stars and a fucking huge yellow smiley face.


He tried to talk to Chris about JC’s little fetish, but there was no talking to such an ardent comic book fan, especially when Justin sounded more jealous than anything else.


“So he likes Spider-Man,” Chris said, “A lot of guys do.  Hell, for years I wanted to be the Green Goblin.  Can’t fault him for having lofty goals.”


Justin’s draw dropped.


“Besides,” Chris said slyly, “That upside-down kiss in the movie was sexy.  Can’t fault the guy for good taste, either.”


Justin flicked him off as he stormed out of the room.




“Justin?”  JC stood in the doorway of Justin’s hotel room, looking hesitant and unsure.  It was an unusual look on him, especially lately, when he was filled with a superhero’s false confidence.  Justin smiled and motioned for him to come in, and JC flopped heavily beside him, stretching out on his back, his arm flung over his eyes.


“I think I’m fucked up, J,” He began without preamble, and Justin arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.


“It’s just…I know I’ve been a little weird lately…”


Justin coughed, and JC swatted his thigh.  “Okay.  A lot weird.  But I really liked the movie, man.  And.  I just.  It’s that.  Yes.  I mean…”


“What, C?” Justin interrupted him, trying to reign in his obviously meandering thoughts.


“Would you kiss me like that?” JC asked suddenly, and Justin felt every drop of moisture in his mouth disappear in the blink of an eye.


Whwhat, C?” He croaked, barely able to meet the older man’s intense gaze.


JC sat up, all pretense of shyness gone, something low and dangerous and glittering in his eyes.  “I said,” He drawled, words perfectly clear, “Would you kiss me like that?”


“I…uh…I mean…”  Justin wasn’t quite sure when they had switched personalities and JC’s bumbling ineloquence had seeped into his brain, but he couldn’t find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight, and JC’s face was looming ever-closer.


Don’tcha think it would be fun, J?” He whispered, tracing one elegant finger up and down the edge of Justin’s pants, coming dangerously close to the swelling length of flesh pressed against his inner thigh.  “To kiss like that…in the rain…upside down…having no idea who you’re really kissing…but being powerless to stop, because it feels so fucking good…hmmmmm?”


Justin was suddenly sure that JC was, in fact, Spider-Man, because no one else could have woven a web so intricately without the slightest indication it was present.  He was caught.  And he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be released.


“Think about it…” JC whispered, his tongue teasing the plump flesh of Justin’s earlobe.  “To taste someone like that from the other side, knowing you know that person, but never being quite sure who that person is…isn’t it sexy?  Hmmm….tell me, J…”


Justin moaned softly as JC’s tongue skated up the tanned expanse of his neck, cresting his jaw, coming ever-so-close to the edge of his mouth but not quite touching where he needed it most.


“Yeah, C,” He breathed.  “I think it would be sexy…”


JC bit his lip once, roughly, then whispered in a voice oozing sensuality, “Then stop teasing me about my Spider-Man fantasy.”  And when Justin opened his eyes again, JC was gone.


Justin blinked, and then a second later, in a fit of sexual frustration, screamed, “JC you fucker!”  He paused for a moment and then began laughing helplessly, hopelessly amused at the sheer absurdity of the situation. 


Down the hall, JC sang softly to himself, a million-dollar grin on his face, “Look out!  Here comes the Spider-Man!”



© 2002 ~A.