worth it the world's dumbest mprov by Julad Okay, so all necessary ingredients kindly provided by wax. Words: running gag, cull, accumulation, farmhouse. Randomly calculated pairing: JC/Justin Randomly calculated number of words in opening sentence: 3 Randomly calculated genre: humour Randomly calculated number of Mary Sues: 1 (which I forgot anyway, so don't worry) Randomly calculated sexuality of JC and Justin: JC gay, and complete sexual dysfunction. And have I mentioned that it's dumb? Good, cause I wouldn't want you to, like, not realise that. [20:56] ***************************** JC's ass itched. He checked around, but nobody was looking, so he dug his hand down the back of his pants until he found the offending object: a long stick of grass, split in two near the end. Half the seeds had rubbed off it, and he knew where they were now: squirming their way down the inner seam of his jeans to make him more uncomfortable than he would have been, if Justin hadn't been sprawled naked on the bus floor, covered in flour. "That is *not* how you make french toast," Lance pointed out. "It's egg and milk." "I'd make it the right way," Chris said, trying to get his hands under Justin, "if we *had* egg and milk." Justin snorted and tried to lift his hands. He made an aborted gurgling sound that might have been laughter. Chris finally wedged his hands under the small of Justin's back, and flipped him over. Joey pointed at Justin's body and frowned disapprovingly. "You've got. His arms, man." He slid down from his chair and tugged Justin's arm out from under his chest, arranging it carefully by his side. Justin made another gurgling sound, and Joey patted his head fondly. "more, baby?" The gurgle was definitely affirmative, finally escaping from Justin's throat as a high-pitched giggle. Joey got back onto his feet and lumbered into the kitchen, upturning bottles and grunting as each turned out to be empty. "I think you missed my point," Lance insisted to Chris, who was carefully dustin Justin's newly-exposed side with flour. "If you're not using the right ingredients, it's not french toast. He's a bagel or something." "I think you missed the joke, dumbass," Chris muttered, sighing impatiently. JC shifted in his seat, since the running gag was getting tedious, and he was scared, with probable cause, he insisted to himself, that sooner or later somebody would try to make french toast out of *him*. He probably wasn't toasted enough, but he would, to Chris' tiny inebriated mind, be French enough, and he wasn't in the mood to be held down and covered in syrup. Well, he *was*, but he didn't kid himself that he'd be so lucky as to have it licked off him again. Joey re-emerged, bearing a green mickey mouse cup with an orange bendy straw poking out of it. "here you go, honey," he crooned, and knelt down by Justin's head, helping him drink. Lance made jealous want-y noises and held out his hands for the cup, but Justin dragged an arm up and draped it possessively around it. JC drained his glass and reached into his pants again, scratching irritably. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A pretty farmhouse, haystacks, and two hours' hard drinking: of *course* they were going to get out and play Cowboys and Indians. Of course, of *course*, as a consequence, once back on the bus Justin would shed his clothing bit by bit in order to get rid of the straggling bits of hay, and of course Chris and Lance and Joey, ever solicitious of Justin's well-being, would want to rub moisturiser into every bit of exposed skin, to relieve the irritation. JC had announced several times that his ass was itching, but did they care? No. Petulantly, he took off his pants anyway., "Are bagels French?" Chris asked suddenly, "'cause we got, like, cream cheese and stuff." "I think so," Lance said, as Joey said "no." "Italian?" "I don't know," Joey said. "Just not French." Justin's head had fallen onto his elbow, eyes shut, mouth open, drooling onto his own arm. Chris and Lance and Joey were almost drooling into their own laps at the sight, JC thought grumpily, and so *what* if he was too, so what? He'd drool just the same if it was Lance's naked butt quivering spastically on the floor, or Chris', or Joey's. The rest of them didn't have to act like their selectivity was in any way meritorious. Especially when Justin was oblivious, in more ways than the current one. Especially when they hadn't even noticed that he'd taken off his pants. Chris was poking around in the fridge now, expressing annoyance in little squeaking sounds that somebody had culled all the rotting food from it. "There was salmon in here yesterday," he insisted, stomping his foot. "Any apples?" Lance asked, scooping up Justin's neglected drink and draining it. He wiped his mouth with a satisfied grunt. "We could put an apple in his mouth." Chris brandished some parsely. "We could put this in his ass, like he's a chicken." "Yeah!" Joey and Lance chorused. "And there's some barbecue seasoning in the cupboard," Lance added. "No, no, wait." Joey got up again and pushed chris aside. When he emerged from the fridge, he was brandishing tomatoes and onions and cheese. "Chicken parmigiana!" It was on the tip of JC's tongue to tell them they were in no state to play with knives, but Lance belched loudly and then got up to help ("hey, pickles!"), and the day's inevitable accumulation of lust faded to tolerable. Chris scratched his ass irritably, and Joey, whose allergies had flared up from "too much fucking running around in fucking country air", wiped his nose on the tea towel. With a sigh of relief, JC felt his erection finally fade. Some days, he reflected as he left them fumbling with the cheese grater and staggered up the aisle to the shower, unrequited lust was just not worth it. [21:37] the end. [21:37] gah.