Being straight and having sex with boys are, apparently, not mutually exclusive. Of course, Pacey's known that forever, or at least since he met Danny. He hadn't realized his fascination with older women extended to older men as well, but in a lot of ways fucking Danny was time-travel masturbation, since it was a lot like fucking his older self.

He never thought to fuck Jack. That wasn't exactly true, since he thought quite a bit about fucking Jack from time to time, but again, that was a lot like masturbation as well. Jack always seemed a little too afraid of his sexuality for him to unbend enough to think that Pacey might want to fuck him, a delusion that, given the right set of circumstances, Pacey was more than happy to rid him of.

He just didn't expect the right set of circumstances to be in the middle of Jen's graduation party. While everyone else was off oohing and aahing over the PhD and talking about what she was going to go on and do and how she was going to set the world on fire, Pacey was pinning Jack against the wall of the men's bathroom, a few martinis adding fuel to the fire that was burning in his groin.

"What are you doing, Pacey?"

Pacey smiled a smile he reserved for very coquettish young ladies and oblivious gay men, and slid his hand onto Jack's erection, which responded nicely by hardening. "Well, I might be wrong, but I think," he leaned in, letting his breath moisten Jack's lips, "I'm going to fuck you right here in the bathroom of this very swank restaurant."

"You own this restaurant."

"Less chance the owner will kick us out." He bit Jack's lower lip hard enough to sting then licked it with fast, flickering lashes of his tongue. "It also means there's a very good chance that the bathroom door's locked and several men in suits are going to be pounding on the door in a little while."

"But…"

"Which, to be honest, makes me want to fuck you even slower than I'd planned. Who knew I had a kink for danger?"

"Everyone, but…"

"Jack," he pulled back slightly and tilted his head, his blue eyes dancing, his tone the one he reserved for coquettish young girls, oblivious gay men and, most usually, Joey Potter. His hand was moving over Jack's erection now, stroking it through the smooth fabric of his slacks. "Just say yes."

"But…"

"Oh, Jesus." Pacey moved in fast, his mouth covering Jack's his tongue thrusting hard into his mouth through surprised, parted lips. His hand moved above Jack's cock and started working on the belt while the other remained flat against the tile next to his head. Jack's hands moved restlessly at his sides, lifting then falling time and again. Pacey broke the kiss, inhaling Jack's shell-shocked gaze like air. "Shut up."

Jack nodded, his eyes focused on Pacey's mouth. "You're straight," he managed in a low, disbelieving voice.

"I am…" Pacey grinned impishly, "too good to limit to just one gender." He slid his hand down the wall to Jack's shoulder then moved it to the nape of his neck. His long fingers curled against the damp flesh and he pulled Jack closer.

"You're an egotistical bastard."

Pacey nodded, still grinning. "I'll bet you a hundred bucks that's not going to stop you from getting down on your knees and sucking my cock, is it?"

Jack groaned, his body jerking as if the sound had been forced out of him. He slipped out of Pacey's grasp, sinking down to the ground. His hands were working at Pacey's belt and slacks before he made it all the way down, sliding leather against the cool fabric of his pants. Pacey pursed his lips together, moving his hand back to the wall, supporting himself against it as Jack pushed his pants and boxers toward the floor.

Jack's fingers dug into Pacey's flesh, first against his hips then, as he lowered his mouth onto Pacey's cock, around to his ass, kneading the firm skin. Pacey grunted low in his throat and thrust forward, Jack's lips parting around him.

"Yeah," he breathed, his cock sliding in and out of the wet heat of Jack's mouth, the muscles of his ass tight with tension. Heat coiled at the base of his groin, throbbing almost painfully along his cock. He curled his fingers against the polished tile and rested his head between his hands, breathing heavily as he stared down, watching Jack move over him. "Oh, yeah."

Jack moaned around his shaft, sending a lightning bolt of sensation up Pacey's spine. His fingers slid further, no doubt leaving dark marks behind where they'd dug into Pacey's flesh, the pad of one moving slowly across the tight aperture of Pacey's ass. Pacey groaned in response, his hips moving of their own volition, forcing Jack to increase his pace.

"Yeah," Pacey nodded, biting his lower lip as his eyes threatened to close. "Yes. Oh, Christ, Jack…"

The doorknob behind them rattled suddenly, loud voices pooling outside the door. Jack started to pull away, stopped as Pacey reached down and held his head against his body, thrusting harder and faster until Jack fell into rhythm with him. The voices changed, ebbing and flowing as people came and left, the familiar sound of his concierge finally filtering through the door. Pacey groaned, his teeth scraping across his upper lip before biting it, his knuckles white as he tightened his fists.

Jack's loud breathing echoed in the tiled room, almost overshadowing the sound of a key sliding in the lock and turning. Pacey came all at once, not noticing as Jack sucked and swallowed around him, soft and desperate mewls of arousal spilling from around Pacey's cock.

Jack jerked away as Pacey pulled back, turning and slumping against the wall. His breath shook out of him and his hands trembled as he reached down to adjust his slacks, his eyes cutting to where Jack still knelt on the floor.

"I heard the door," Jack panted.

"Locked on both sides." Pacey pulled the keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of Jack. "Whoops." He walked toward the door and flicked the knob, pulling it open as he heard Jack stand behind him. "Sorry, Angel," he apologized to his concierge. "Looks like the door's sticking again."

She smiled knowingly. "I'll call the repair man, Mr. Witter."

He nodded to the few guests gathered outside the door. "I apologize for the inconvenience, folks. Just come to the bar and the next drink will be on me." He looked back at Jack and smiled, his eyebrow raised. "Jack? Coming?"

Christmas is always rough. He's not sure why because he never put much stock in it. Bunch of lousy gifts from family members who forgot him half the time. The only people that always remembered him were Doug and Joey, and neither of them ever let him forget it; like he owed them something for remembering he was alive.

You'd think, or he would if he didn't know better, that Dawson would remember, since he was his best friend, but you'd be wrong. He found that out the hard way the first year Dawson forgot, which was when he was 15. Of course, Dawson also then proceeded to forget his birthday, so he wonders why he was ever surprised at all.

"Merry Christmas, little brother." He knows it's Doug before he even picks up the phone even though he's too lazy to afford caller ID.

"Well, if it isn't Dougie. Makin' the Yuletide gay."

"That never ceases to not be funny."

"Hey, I didn't make your life choice for you, Dougie." He smiles, can't help it. He and Doug are friends now, whether he likes it or not. "How's the clandestine life treating you?"

"We're considering making the spare bedroom a shrine to Judy Garland. Although Jack wants me to do it up with a disco ball. It's a battle of the divas, really."

"Wow. You make buying a gift for you harder every year." There's a knock on his door and he sighs. "I gotta run, Dougie."

"What's the matter? The latest conquest doesn't have a key?"

"Something like that." He unlocks the door. "I'll see you tonight."

"Later, little brother."

He hangs up the phone and opens the door. He manages to catch the receiver before it hits the floor and he likes to think he looks suave and not like he's seen a ghost. "Josephine Potter. As I live and breathe."

"Unfortunately." Her smile takes most of the sting out of it, but not all. "Merry Christmas."

"If you say so." Pacey steps back and gestures into the living room. "Come on in."

"Nice digs."

"Yes. The finest Capeside has to offer." He's actually pretty proud of the place. Much nicer than it was when he and Gretchen had rented it years ago. "So long as you don't mind the constant draft and the hurricane season."

"I never did."

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "You always did."

"Yeah, well." She shrugs and holds out a box. He recognizes the wrapping paper and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, thanks, Potter, but I'm pretty sure I don't need a tie."

"Who says it's a tie?"

"Well, anything else at this place would cost you a fortune, and I'm not about to believe that you're spending near that much on me."

"It's not a tie." She taps it lightly with a nail that's long enough to send shivers down his spine, makes him curse himself for being unable to forget anything when it comes to her. "Open it."

He reaches over and grabs a gift off the side table. "You first."

"What's this?"

"It's not a tie." He jiggles the box a little. "Open it."

"You bought me a present?"

"Is that oh so hard to believe, Potter?"

"Well, yeah." She fingers the bow lightly, smoothes the velvet ribbon. "What is it?"

"Only one way to find out."

She stares at it then stares at him for a long moment. "I have to get back to Bessie's."

He nods. "Have a nice Christmas, Jo."

"You too."

"Give Bessie and the family my best."

"Say hi to Doug." She backs out of the door and hurries to her car. She holds the present away from her as if it's dangerous. Probably a good plan, he thinks as he closes the door and looks at the square box. Everything is when it comes to the two of them.

"There should be a law," Joey sighed as she sank down onto the couch next to Jen.

"There are several," Jen reminded her, lowering her glasses to look at her roommate. "You might have known that if you hadn't dropped out of your pre-law classes just because you realized you'd slept with the professor during a drunken binge."

"It wasn't a binge. And he was only the professor's assistant. Besides, can you honestly see me as a lawyer?"

"Ally McBeal, maybe." Jen took a sip of her wine. "And he was the professor."

"He didn't have tenure."

"And, thanks to your confession during another drunken binge, he never will."

"Hey, at least I did it at a legal age as opposed to Pacey."

"Which, I assume, brings us right back to why there should be a law?"

"Why do you say that?"

Jen took another sip. "Since all your declarative statements - not to mention said drunken binges - seem to be centered around the aforementioned Mr. Witter." She offered her glass to Joey. "So, what law is it that there should be?"

"Ex-boyfriends…"

"Particularly those you're still hung up on."

Joey glared at her. "Ex-boyfriends should not be allowed to get sexier. And they should also not be allowed to date girls who are younger and prettier than I am."

Jen lifted an eyebrow, "What about older and prettier?"

"He didn't date you." Joey crossed her arms. "He just slept with you."

"On a regular basis." Jen smiled and patted Joey's head. "Don't fret, Jo. I'm sure you're the only girl that will ever eviscerate him the way you did. The rest of us can just aspire to the level of brash heartlessness you showed him."

"I'm sorry. Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Well," Jen took the wineglass from Joey's hand and placed it on the table before tugging Joey closer, into her arms. "Considering the fact that you're living with me in ways that we must never mention to my Grams, and you're yammering on about Pacey, uh…no."

"I'm not yammering."

Jen bit Joey's earlobe. "Regardless."

Joey snuggled closer. "Okay. No more mention of Pacey."

"For at least a half-hour?"

"Your Grams so knows about us."

"She does not!"

"She so does."

"What? Did you tell her during another drunken binge?"

"Quite possibly the one that followed you telling me that you slept with Pacey on a regular basis."

Jen punched Joey lightly in the arm. "You mentioned him again!"

"I also invited him over for Christmas dinner." Joey glanced at the empty kitchen table. "Which I also asked him to cook." She turned in Jen's arms and smiled down at her, kissing her softly. "And for which we will owe him."

"So, your ex-boyfriend is coming over here to put on a frilly pink apron and then expects us to have sex with him?"

"Yeah. Pretty much. Only I understand he's your ex-boyfriend too." Joey kissed Jen again, her tongue tracing Jen's smooth lips. "But don't worry, he knows the sex is his Christmas present."

"Well," Jen trailed a light finger over Joey's breast on a path to the buttons of her shirt, "in that case, we'd better start unwrapping."

Joey doesn't say anything as she watches Pacey walk down toward the dock. She knows if she does she'll shatter the fragile peace they've managed to maintain for so long and she's not sure if she's willing to do that quite yet. It doesn't stop her from following him, she's not sure anything could do that, but she's reluctant to break the silence.

She hasn't seen him in years but she still knows the lines of his face, the planes of him, from memory. She had taken an art class in college and rediscovered her love of it. She'd drawn him one night, her hand caressing him in charcoal as he came to life on the page.

"You gonna stand there all night, Potter, or were you thinking about bein' sociable?"

"You looked lost in thought."

"Wow. Quite an improvement. A few years ago you wouldn't have even admitted I had the ability to think."

"We've come a long way from that, Pacey."

He shrugged and skipped a rock across the undulating surface of the creek. "What brings you home?"

"Family," she shrugged. "The one tie that will always hold me to Capeside."

"No matter how hard you struggle to get the hell out of Dodge." He skipped another rock. "You have to admit though, when you come back here, there's always someone waiting for you. That's got to be nice in a way."

"Nice," she agreed with a slight nod. "But it also means you can never quite leave it all behind."

"And you want to do that?" His voice was quiet, deeper than she remembered. "Leave it all behind?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I look at the girl I used to be and hate her. She wasn't a very good person a lot of the time." She reached over and took the rock from his hand and skipped it across the water. "The best I ever was was when I was with you." She watched as the splashes dissolved back into the creek. "Though that's not true. I was the best I ever was when I wanted to be with you. Trying to impress you, I think."

"You were always impressive, Potter."

She shook her head, moving to sit on the edge of the dock. "Why are you home?"

"I'm moving back." He sat next to her, staring out at the reeds as they danced in the fading sunlight. "Buying the old Icehouse property and making a new restaurant. Doing my prodigal son bit."

"Oh."

"I've realized the farther I try and run from Capeside, the closer I end up to it. Maybe I need to show everyone that I'm more than the town screw-up, the loser son of the Chief of Police."

"Pacey…"

"It's okay, Jo. The taste of victory really is as sweet as they say." He got to his feet and touched the top of her head, fingers stroking her hair. "Now you'll have something else to come home for."

She watched him walk away, her eyes stinging from the tears that suddenly blinded her. "But still no one to come home to."

Joey closed the door to Grams's kitchen behind her, inhaling the sharp, scented air of Boston in the fall. She shivered, pulling her thin jacket more tightly around her. The wind danced on the streets, stirring leaves until they exploded in writhing tendrils down the darkening streets.

"Hey, Potter."

She looked up, smiling automatically. "Hey, Pace."

"What are you doing out here? I hear there's public humiliation, taunting and general Dawson-bashing going on inside. How can you miss out on that fun?"

"I've suffered enough of all of the above already, thank you very much. Probably enough to last me a lifetime." She pulled her collar up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you so late?"

"Had a few things to do." He held up the bag in his hands. "Homemade pumpkin pie."

"A far cry from the man whose sole contribution to Thanksgiving was the annual can of cranberries."

"Hey, I always got the can with the fancy ridges in it," he reminded her. "Made it all look festive."

She looked in the bag. "Oooh. Whipped cream?"

"Hand whipped."

"You are kinky, aren't you?"

"Something you would have found out if you'd stuck around long enough." He smiled to take the sting from his words. "Though I don't know, Potter. Your good-girl from the wrong side of the tracks image may have suffered in a leather bustier and fuck-me boots."

"I think I'd look pretty hot in them."

Pacey opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. "I've decided I'm not having this conversation anymore."

"On the grounds it might incriminate you?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines that it might get me killed by whatever new boyfriend you've brought along to the party."

"I'm solo-ing it tonight, actually." Her eyes dared him. "So you're safe to say whatever it is that came to your dirty mind."

"I was thinking," he paused and leaned in, whispering in her ear, his breath stirring her hair, stirring her blood, "that you would look pretty hot."

She turned her head slightly so that her lips brushed her cheek. "No question about it."

He groaned softly, shaking his head. "You're going to be the death of me, Joey Potter."

"In your dreams, Witter."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Pretty much." He kissed her cheek quickly. "You going to come in for a piece of pie?"

"I'll be in soon." She stepped aside and let him walk into the house. As soon as the door closed behind him, she took a deep breath, inhaling the cold into her lungs, hoping to soothe the heat that burned her cheeks. She smiled to herself, turned slowly and followed him inside.