A/N: JALEX, incest implied. Set in season four, during "The Wizards of 13B," prior to Juliet or Mason coming back to screw up my fantasy life, obviously. Damn you, Juliet. There's a little Mason-bashing in this one and a couple of liberties with my interpretation of his behavior, but nothing too major.

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Disclaimer: WOWP and its characters are owned by Disney.

Inspired, in case you're curious, by this innocent quote from Justin's Back In:

Justin: Alex, you're no longer in this class. We're waiting on a new Teacher's Assistant from Wiz-Tech, so please leave. I don't want you to be here all, 'hey, how's it goin, cute shoes by the way.' "

Alex: Well, you're right about one thing. Your new TA does have cute shoes! (pointing to her shoes)

Justin: No!

Alex kicks him, hard, and Justin yelps. "Take my boots off," she grunts at him. Her voice is low, attention distracted by the television blaring the All Night Halloween Sorority Party Disaster mini marathon she'd insisted they watch. Remind him again why he agreed to this?

"Because," she'd explained earnestly when he came to deliver yet another box to her new apartment, "Harper's staying with Zeke, Lucy's, uh, wherever, and you know how Mom and Dad feel about me staying here by myself. They'll totally find a way to make me spend the weekend back at home, and that's so not gonna happen. Oh, and hey, there's gonna be a great party on the thirteenth floor tonight. You should come Justin. You might even get lucky. Ogres aren't choosy!"

"Maybe you really spend the weekend at the apartment," he'd countered, ignoring the barb. "You know as well as I do what they're worried about." Actually, it wasn't a what, it was a who. Her ex had been acting pretty weird every since he'd discovered Alex was living in the same building, and werewolves were known to be notoriously unpredictable. Their parents were right to be worried. But he didn't say so; Alex had already promised to do him serious bodily harm if he mentioned the lycanthrope by name, and she had a way of following through on threats.

"Justin, no. I mean, I won't need to, with my big brother here to protect me, right? Besides, if you stay, Dad won't need to find out that you used magic when you remolded my room to make your nerd-station." She gave him a saccharine smile. " You know, after they said you could do it but only if you swore not to use any magic?" Now she smirked. "Pretty sneaky, Justin. I'm disappointed in you."

"Alex!"

She grinned. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble." Blackmail is such an ugly word.

That was hours ago; before one of the elves down the hall called Alex to say the party had been canceled – well, postponed – on account of the banshees (don't ask). She hasn't seemed too broken up about it, and he questions her motives. Justin doesn't know why she's to forcing him to stay up and watch bad movies, but Alex has never been one to waste an opportunity to torture him, and apparently tonight isn't going to be the one that breaks her streak.

Now they're both on her sofa, watching, god help him, Night of the Halloween Sorority Party Disaster Part VI, with Justin crammed uncomfortably onto one end, and Alex sprawled out all over the place. Justin will never understand how such a small person can take up so much room. She's stretched out as long as she can go, with her head on an absurd stack of pillows at one end and her feet in Justin's lap, while the rest of her hogs everything in between. He's pretty sure she enlarges herself in some way that defies physics.

Justin feels squished. Which is odd, considering the couch was more than adequate for two people before it was piled up with half a dozen pillows, two blankets, and his sister. Most of the pillows are Harper's. There's hardly room left for Justin now, but the other chairs are hard and uncomfortable. He could probably lie on Harper's bed and see the TV, but he knows from experience that Alex will trail him there just to annoy him, and there's something about lying in bed with his little sister that just bothers him. He can't really put his finger on it. Justin sighs; he's never known anyone who can take up space quite like Alex Russo. She kicks him again, hard.

"Ouch Alex, Jesus!" He bats at her legs, and she chortles. Wounded, he rubs his shoulder where she's nailed him with her pointy suede toe.

"Well, take them off for me, then!"

Balanced on her stomach is an enormous bowl of buttery popcorn, which she's been picking through to find the best pieces. She plucks a couple out and tosses them into her mouth while she grins at him, like maybe he's a really good show she's watching, better than the one on TV. Justin glares.

"Why should I? They're your shoes!"

"Well, they're on your side."

What? That doesn't even make sense. While he's trying to process her logic, she coaxes, "Besides. they're all stiff and hot and they make my feet hurt, Justin." She makes her patented Sad Face, even though his expression says he's not buying it. "And I can't reaaach them!" Without rising from her prone position she stretches out a hand, demonstrating just how far away her feet are. The popcorn teeters briefly, but Justin steadies it before it can fall.

He trains his eyes on the screen, pointedly not looking at her. "Sounds like your problem. Remind me again why I should have any interest in doing something for you that you can do perfectly well for yourself?"

His sister smiles at him, sweetly. "Because then it will hurt less when I do this?" She bends her right knee and pushes down, letting the pointed heel of her boot dig into his thigh. Justin squeals and struggles to get up, but the couch is low and she's got him at a disadvantage. With both legs she shoves him back down. He lands with a somewhat satisfying thump. Alex gives the low, throaty laugh that means she's more than usually pleased with herself. Justin's face grows pink.

"Come on! Would it kill you? I just got comfortable." It won't kill him, but he wonders if Alex just might. Why does he put up with this, again? With a deep sigh, Justin reviews his options, and Alex lets him work it out. She thinks it's kind of hilarious how that little furrow creases the bridge of his nose when he frowns and his face goes all wrinkly; it makes him look super serious and about a million years old. She fixes him with an expectant stare, chewing popcorn. Justin sighs, drops his head, and his shoulders take on that defeated slump she's so familiar with. Oh, she knew it. She leans back to watch him get to work.

Uneasily, he lifts her outside foot, the right one, from his lap. He clears his throat unnecessarily, like when he's a little nervous because he has to give a lecture or break a rule or talk to a girl or something. She waits, looking at him in a way that someone who didn't understand the situation might construe as just a little bit predatory.

He cups her heel in his hand, not looking at her face. He looks at her shoes instead. The boots are fancy, black suede with pointed toes and killer heels, buttery Italian leather that looks every bit as soft as it feels. They sheathe her longs legs all the way from her toes to just above the knee, slouching to create little ripples that may or may not invite the gaze to linger on her great legs. Her brother is immune, of course. Isn't there some kind of genetic thing that cancels out that kind of attraction, and why is he even thinking about this; on second thought, he's so not.

He gives a tug, experimentally. Nothing happens, except that Alex scoots a little closer, clutching the popcorn bowl to stop it wobbling, until her butt touches his leg. Justin flinches, flashes her a dirty look, but her face is guileless. "What? I was helping!" Then, as if sensing weakness, she adds coyly, "You can't see anything anyway...see?" and she lifts her skirt to, oh god, show him. Her eyes sparkle. Justin's funny when his eyes go all bulgy like that.

He looks away, quickly, but not so quickly that… oh. really can't see anything. Huh.

Under her short skirt and above her boots, Alex is wearing what appears to be a pair of men's boxer shorts, baggy, soft grey, made of a shimmery material that might be silk. And really, they do a very effective job of hiding her, uh, charms. He doesn't feel vaguely disappointed by that, of course.

Besides, while the boxers might conceal her, ahem, more private parts, they do nothing about the enticing thigh-high lace stockings she wears except to emphasize exactly where they stop, a few inches above the top of each boot. Justin doesn't think about running his fingers past the stocking-tops. Alex smiles at him like she's proven something. "See, I'm totally immodest."

That might be accurate, actually. Justin tries not to grind his teeth. "I think you mean modest, Alex. Which is highly debatable."

His sister shrugs. Whatever.

Impatient, embarrassed, he growls, "So how do you take these stupid things off?"

"Oh. There's a zipper?"

It's amazing he's known her this long without killing her. Really.

Justin's face feels hot. One palm cradles her heel, while with the other hand he runs his fingers gingerly along the seam that hugs the back of her calf. Alex smiles at him like a cat.

Because the boots rise past the swell of his sister's knee, nearly touching the lower part of her thigh, he has to reach up quite a bit further than he's entirely comfortable with before he can feel around for the little tongue of the zipper. Which is the only thing he's feeling for, thanks. Her thighs are ridiculously smooth and firm, and her skin is softer than suede. Justin isn't going to think about it.

His fingers slide around the boot's cuff, describing a ring, just investigating and absolutely not tracing the top of her stocking with his fingertips, at all. Daring a glance, he raises her eyebrows at her little help here? but she just nods encouragingly, her big brown eyes wide and innocent. Finally, finally He closes his fingers on the half-hidden nub of the zipper; victory. The thin metal tab is dwarfed by his thick fingers. He thinks of Hugh Normous, and has to suppress a smile.

Justin pulls the cuff taut to make the zipper slide more easily down its tiny row of teeth, unlocking them one at a time. "Go slow," his sister murmurs, needlessly. "It'll snag." As the leather parts with a low secretive bzzz sound, releasing the pressure on her foot and calf, Alex tips back her head and groans in relief.

"Oh god, that feels so good, " she enthuses, squeezing her eyes shut. And sure, okay, Justin thinks he might just go ahead and die. Then she peers at him, wheedling, "Hey. Don't stop," and he pretty much does. At the same time, he develops complications. He hopes, frantically, that his sister won't be able to tell what's going on down there, won't figure it out in that demonic way she has. The right boot slides down her calf with a sinuous slithery sound, and he dumps it on the floor without ceremony.

Alex sighs in a totally contented way that makes him feel uneasy in his skin, as if suddenly his shirt is full of ants, or all at once his clothes are too tight. Which might be true, actually, for his pants? Wait, no, that can't be right. This is his sister. She wiggles her unbound foot in his direction, making her most endearing pout for him, so almost against his will he massages the ball of her foot with a thumb, kneads her calf lightly. When she begins to moan, low and growly in a way that travels right up his spine into his nerve endings, he stops in a hurry. "You know," he tells her, trying to distract her from the shaking in his hands, "Your feet probably wouldn't hurt so much if you'd wear socks…"

She pats his chin with her curled stocking toes. "Hello, these are socks. See?"

Hardly. But he has bigger problems than her wardrobe at the moment. She tries to poke him in the face with her foot, and he swats at her irritably, which she likes. It makes her laugh.

(Just to be clear, he reminds himself that it didn't feel nice at all, Alex teasing him with her smooth toes sliding against his cheek, her little foot as delicate and potentially dangerous to Justin as the rest of her. He totally didn't picture himself catching her by the ankle to make her stop, or imagine dotting the top of her foot with kisses, hooking her heel over his shoulder as his mouth traverses the perfect length of her leg, tasting the creases left in her soft skin by the boots.)

"Okay, do the other one." The slightly dazed look he gives her doesn't seem to faze her at all.

He finds the zipper faster this time, but it doesn't help that while he's unzipping it her stocking foot is poking at his chest and belly like a lithe little animal, tickling his side with pointed toes, rubbing along the top of his leg. Making everything so much worse. Like always.

"Alex! Would you stop." He stills her with his hands, definitely going out of his way to keep her probing away from his, er, lap. Surprisingly, she settles down, giving a happy little wriggle that should probably be illegal, and stretching her arms out over her head, elongating. He definitely doesn't notice how that makes her back arch, emphasizing her-right.

Alex doesn't thank him when he's done, not that he expected it, and she stays like that for so long that he thinks she may have fallen asleep, blissed on his humiliation. For a second or two he watches her sleep, reflecting how harmless and vulnerable she looks when she's sleeping, like an angel… and how far from the truth appearances can be. When the seconds stretch into minutes he reaches across her to snag the remote, and removes the popcorn bowl gently to the floor. Flipping through the channels, he stops at the History Channel and settles in to watch, relaxing a little. This won't be so bad, maybe. He might even fall asleep himself.

A handful of popcorn hits him in the face a few commercials later. He's not really surprised. His sister is totally awake now, if she was ever anything else. She raises herself on her elbows to frown at him, truculently. "You stole the remote!"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You were asleep."

"Pssh. I was so not asleep. And I was watching that! Now I won't even know what happens. You so owe me now." Justin gapes. He really can't believe her, some of the time. Most of the time.

Evidently she can't think of anything horrible to do to him, because she passes a few minutes just lolling against the edge of the couch, head so buried in pillows that she's just a blur of dark hair and brooding evil, molesting him with her feet. He's getting used to it. Toes pointed and sharp, she rubs the edge of one foot repeatedly along his leg until he moves away, so she edges closer and does it again with her heel, but on his inner thigh this time. When he ignores that, shoving her offending extremity away from the danger zone (although he covers himself strategically with a pillow, just because), she walks her feet up his arm and strokes the side of his face with her toes and the palm of her foot, in a slow movement like a caress. Justin is glad for the pillow.

Alex fidgets for awhile, her sulking so palpable he can feel it. She toys with her necklace, watching him in a way that he tells himself doesn't make him at all uneasy. But when she sits up, bracing herself on her hands to scootch forward and claim even more of his personal space, gooseflesh rises on the back of his neck. Smiling warmly into his face, and setting off alarm bells like mad, she slides her legs across his and hooks an arm around his neck. Justin stiffens. "Alex, this maybe isn't a good idea…" he begins.

"Hey," she says, sounding a little hurt, "Why so nervous? God, Justin, you make me feel like a criminal or something. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm your sister, okay."

Justin darts a look, guilty, trying not to look scared. The fact that she's his sister is pretty much the biggest part of his problem. "I was just messing with you," she reassures him, and convincingly too. For a minute, Justin feels like the world's biggest jerk. Alex is right: she's his sister, he's a freak, and he really does need to start dating again before he gets any weirder. And, she's still looking at him. Waiting for something, but he's not sure what.

Justin, who always learns from his mistakes except where Alex is concerned, smiles back at her tentatively. "Sure. Sorry." It ought to feel strange that he's the one apologizing for her bad behavior, but that's pretty much how it works for them. They're complicated. Alex curls into him, and she lets him watch his "stupid, boring science program or whatever" for ten whole minutes before she steals back the remote. He doesn't really mind. This could kind of nice, he thinks. Maybe.

The absence of her warm weight at his side wakes him. The TV blares an infomercial for something called "cup on a string", movie marathon long since over. He fumbles for the remote and makes the screen go dark. "Alex?" She's probably in bed or whatever, but all the lights are still on, and besides that he feels her awake, moving around. What if she needs him?

"Justin! Are you awake?"

The werewolf he thinks, and his eyes fly open. He jolts off the couch, still disoriented. "What is it? Are you okay? Should I get my wand? What's wrong?"

But she appears from the alcove that houses the bathroom and the laundry, still wearing the clothes she fell asleep in, a little rumpled but undeniably alive. Confused, he stares at her, blinks. "Should I… my wand?"

Alex laughs softly as she crosses the room. He allows the gentle pressure of her hands on his shoulders to press him back into the sofa, which is starting to feel like a bad habit.

"No wand needed, Justin. But I do have this one problem."

His mouth feels dry. "What's wrong?"

She looks at him, assessing. "So, my hands are really tired? And, they fell asleep. And I guess I have a papercut or whatever."

Justin doesn't quite see what that has to do with him. Pulling the hem of her already-short skirt up just a fraction, she tips her chin to indicate the stockings she's still wearing, as if it's the most understandable request in the world, "Can you help me take these socks off?"