o o p s
Oops
by Kaytee
Disclaimer: I own nothing
except the concept.
Author's Note: This
fic was inspired by Josh Jackson's new buzz cut. It takes place about
three weeks into their trip. Spoilers for nearly all of Season Three.
Special thanks: To
Teresa and Bianca and Bijal, who either bugged me to get off Fan Forum
or beta read for me. I love you guys at the We Love Pacey and Joey
thread! You rock!
Rating: PG 13
Feedback: Please, for
the love of God, send feedback.
Bright sunshine cascaded
through the small cabin of True Love, waking Pacey Witter from a
deep sleep. Turning over on the AirMattress, he noticed immediately
that he was alone in the room. The single bed was empty, and the
pillow was missing. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was around
eight.
Quietly, he went up the few
stairs to the deck of the boat and stood there, watching her.
She sat sideways on the bench,
her body curled around the pillow in her arms. She faced away from
him, toward the sunrise, dressed in the clothes she'd worn to bed:
his favorite t-shirt and a kiped pair of boxers.
He watched her for a few
more moments, and then said, "Goodmorning."
Joey Potter jumped slightly,
and turned to face him, her smile more dazzling than the sun. Her
thick, chestnut hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and his
t-shirt was huge on her small frame, and for the millionth, billionth time,
her beauty amazed him.
"Hey, sleepyhead. I
was wondering when you were going to wake up," she said. "We're
supposed to dock soon."
"I'm sorry I'm not quite
the morning person you are, Potter," he grumped playfully. "I don't
shine at eight a.m., unlike some."
"You and I both know that
I'm not a shiny person first thing in the morning, either, Pacey,
but I'm nervous. Worried," she continued. Her older sister,
Bessie, was going to meet them later for lunch. Partly to check on
Joey, partly to bring her the clothes and the money she hadn't brought
with her when she'd left Capeside the way she had. "I mean, Bessie
sounded like she wasn't going to be mad at me for the rest of her life,
but still."
He nodded, yawning and rubbing
the sleep out of his eyes with one hand, scratching his stomach with the
other. When he opened them, she was staring at him, a smile
on her face.
"What?"
"You," she said simply, getting
up and walking the few steps it took to get to him.
"What about me?" he
asked, smiling, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"You look . . . really
good," she said, her hands resting on his shoulders. She blushed,
which only made him grin.
And he did look good.
His bare feet were peeking out from the loose pantlegs of grey sweats and
a white wife-beater clung to his torso. He sported three-day beard
growth and sleepy hazel eyes, hair spiked out in every direction. Looking
at him made her belly quiver.
"Oh, yeah?" he questioned,
chuckling, his voice still rough from sleep. "How good?"
Over the past few weeks,
they'd been tentative with one another, getting used to being together.
She'd never been bold sexually, and that was part of her appeal.
The fact that she was becoming comfortable enough with him to tell him
when she thought he looked good made his heart nearly burst with happiness.
"When you first wake up,
you look so sleepy and scruffy and I just want to grab you and kiss you
over and over again," she said, her broad smile at odds with the blush
staining her cheeks.
He seemed to consider her
statement for a moment, stroking his stubbly chin before deciding, "That's
pretty damn good."
She laughed bashfully, reaching
up on her tip toes and kissing him. She ran her fingers through his
hair while she opened her mouth wider, deepening the kiss.
His hands had just slid to
her backside when she pulled back, saying, "You need a haircut."
Pacey released a short burst
of laughter, squeezing her ass before letting her go. "Didn't you
just get through telling me how my unkempt appearance turns you on?"
"I didn't exactly phrase
it that way, Pacey," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.
"And there's a fine line between "sexy" and "shaggy" when it comes to male
hairstyles. You're about to cross it."
"See, had I renewed my subscription
to GQ, I would know that. But this past year, I've been a
little busy with other things and unfortunately, my attention to new trends
in personal grooming has been somewhat lacking," he said, sighing dramatically.
"You're just gonna have to cut it for me."
"What? Surely we could
afford the fifteen bucks it takes to have it done in a barber shop," she
said, her mouth curving into a lopsided smile.
"See, that's where you'd
be wrong, Potter," he told her, walking over to adjust some settings on
the boat. "We have enough money to either eat today, or have my hair
cut."
"But Bessie is bringing me
some money," she pointed out, her tone a little desparate.
"Yes, but we don't know how
much, and besides, it's cheaper this way. Fifteen bucks is fifteen
bucks, Potter."
She was silent for a moment,
and he glanced over his shoulder at her from where he was adjusting the
sail. She was staring out over the ocean, the look on her face telling
him that she wished she'd never brought it up.
Turning back to the sail,
he grinned.
"Bodie, I just don't know.
Should I haul her ass back home? Let her keep going? I still can't
believe she just . . ."
"Followed her heart?" Bodie
asked his girlfriend and the mother of his child, Bessie Potter.
Bessie made a face, acknowledging
his point. "I was going to say 'I still can't believe she abandoned
us', but yeah, that works, too."
Bodie chuckled as he stood
in the doorway of Joey's bedroom, leaning on the jam. Bessie was
busy folding clothes into a suitcase.
"How much money do you think
we should give her?"
"I was looking over the books
last night, and because of the big boost over the holiday weekend, and
the hearty tip from Mrs. Leonowens, we could probably swing around four,
five hundred bucks," Bodie said, waiting for the reaction.
Bessie dropped the t-shirt
she'd been folding. "Five hundred dollars?! Are you crazy?
There are so many things that money could be used for, Bodie. The
still unfinished room? New curtains for the Nautical Room?
The extra bathroom we were talking about?"
"Those things are important,
yes I know, but Bessie. Honey . . . we have no idea how much
money Pacey has left to live on, we don't know if they're going to need
the money for repairs, or even if they're going to need it to get back
home if something happens to the boat," Bodie told her patiently.
"God," she muttered, picking
up the shirt she'd tossed. "I hate it when you do that."
"Do what, honey?"
"Use logic to win an argument."
Bodie laughed, walking over
and sitting on Joey's bed. "I know it's a lot of money, and I know
she's young and I know she's on a small boat with a teenage boy.
But Bessie, you've seen the way he looks at her. He's taking good
care of her. And Joey's got a good head on her shoulders. After
all she's been through, all the responsibilities thrust upon her, she needs
this."
Bessie remained silent for
a few more moments, packing Joey's suitcase. Finally, she let out
a sigh and said, "There is at least one really good thing about this, you
know."
"What's that?"
Bessie smiled, and had Pacey
seen that smile, a shiver would have run up and down his spine.
"The B&B always needs
work done," she said, quite reasonably. "And I own that boy now."
"Are you sure you want me
to do this?"
Pacey sat on a small stool
on the docks of Perry, Maryland, dressed in shorts and sneakers, his torso
bare but for the towel around his neck. Joey stood beside him, a
small pair of scissors in hand and a nervous expression on her face.
"Jo. Listen to me,"
he said, smiling. "If you screw up, I'll only blame you for the rest
of your life, because, as you know, it's impossible to grow hair after
it's cut badly."
She made a face at him, and
tapped him on the top of his head with the flat of the blades. "Alright,
fine. Okay. Okay?"
"Okay," he said, grinning.
She used a fine-tooth comb
through his hair first, and then, using her fingers as a guide, began to
cautiously snip away at his hair.
She was concentrating intently
on what she was doing, and after a few minutes, she was beginning to have
more confidence. Part of her was absolutely amazed that he was sitting
so still.
Her mind began to wander
as she worked, and soon she was caught up in the same thoughts that had
been creeping into her dreams lately. She'd been up for hours that
morning before Pacey had woken, thinking.
She worked quietly, finishing
with the back part of his head and moving around to the front. Concentrating,
she stood strandling his thighs, her breasts inches from his face as she
combed then cut the top part of his hair.
"I'm gonna go insane if you
don't distract me," he said. "Talk to me, Potter."
Joey smiled. "What
about?"
"Tell me about what's waking
you up in the middle of the night."
She'd known that he'd noticed
her tossing and turning, and she'd been wondering when he was going to
ask. She remained silent for a moment. "I've been feeling guilty,"
she said finally. "It gnaws at me whenever I'm not busy, and it's
horrible at night."
Pacey sighed. "He'll
forgive you, Joey."
"What?"
He brought his head up and
looked at her, his eyes a stormy gray-green. "Dawson will forgive
you."
Joey looked confused for
a moment, and then an obvious bulb lit above her head.
A little hurt, he asked,
"Is it really that important, what the all-mighty Dawson thinks of you?"
"No! You idiot!"
Now Pacey was confused. Huh?
"Huh?"
"I'm not especially worried
about what Dawson thinks of me right now. Ask me again when we dock
in Capeside."
"Then why are you feeling
so guilty?"
"Because of you!" she exclaimed,
looking at him like he was thicker than a brick.
"Me? Why?"
"I treated you like shit,
Pacey!" she yelled, frustrated.
They stared at each other
for a moment before Joey broke the gaze, looking away.
"What if you decide I'm not
worth it, after all?" she asked quietly.
She felt him grab her hips
a moment before he pulled her down on him, wrapping his arms around her
waist. "Jo..."
She clung to him, holding
him tightly, the scissors falling from her fingers. "I'm so sorry,
Pacey."