XOver, Brian/Justin - "Hustle."
Heh. I never said I was going to actually _write_ the couples y'all suggested. :) Hee! I probably will. Just not yet. :) I appear to be on a Justin-kick, although he's my hardest character to write. I guess I can work on him while it's his month. Another tiny one.
Hustle
"Wait, wait, wait," Justin said, bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and panting heavily. "Hold on a minute, okay?"
"You ready to give up already?" Brian asked, bouncing the ball on the floor in front of him.
"No," Justin said, wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his jersey. "I just need to catch my breath."
"Take all the time you need," Brian said, lining up a three-pointer and tossing it neatly through the basket.
"Now, what the hell is that all about?" Justin asked, watching Brian jog over to where the ball had landed and dribble it back to centre court. "You're totally hustling me, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look at you," Justin said, waving one hand in front of him. "You're, like, three feet tall, you've got a freakin' _heart_ condition, and you're killing me, here. You're supposed to suck."
Brian chuckled. "Okay, I'm gonna try real hard to take that as a compliment."
"Joey - Joey's, like, six inches taller than you, and he's from New York, for Christ's sake, and he totally sucks. Lance has his heart thing, and he sucks. Chris is short, and I can wipe up the court with him."
"All that tells me is that your group ain't got no game, Timberlake."
"I've _seen_ AJ play," Justin said. "And Kevin's tall and pretty, but that's about it."
"You think Kevin's pretty?" Brian asked, amused. "I'll have to tell him you said that."
"I've got eyes," Justin said, dismissively. "And Howie isn't exactly Dr. J, either."
"Nick's good," Brian said, making another basket.
"Nick's good when he's paying attention to the game and not busy trying to pull Chris's shorts down or give JC a wedgie."
"That was a strategic move. Part of our offense is to keep you guys off-guard."
"I'm sure JC appreciated being able to sing in a higher register for two days, although Chris was a little threatened by it."
Brian chuckled again. "You gonna talk all night, or are we going to play some ball?"
"Okay, okay," Justin said, straightening himself up and going over to stand in front of Brian. "What's the score again?"
"I'm beating you 19-14," Brian said, dribbling the ball.
"Not for long," Justin said, reaching out to steal the ball away from Brian.
Brian was ready for his move, though, and faked away to the right, jogging down the court and tossing in another basket. "20-14," he said, passing the ball to Justin.
"I _know_ what the damn _score_ is," Justin scowled.
"Just checking," Brian said.
Justin dribbled a couple of times, set up a shot, and then dribbled again. Brian waited in front of him to do something, and Justin finally made a move to the left. Brian met the move, but Justin slammed in to him, hard, knocking him to the floor and dribbling the ball to the basket. When he turned around, Brian was still on the floor. "Oh, shit." He walked over, frowning. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching a hand down to pull Brian back up.
"No," Brian said, rubbing his shoulder. "Why makes you think a hundred and eighty pounds of hormonal teenager slamming into me would _hurt_?"
"Sorry," Justin said, shame-faced. "I didn't mean to foul you that hard. Here," he said, handing him the ball. "Take a free throw. You were gonna beat me, anyway."
Brian took the ball, and bounced it a couple of times. He started to grin, and said, "What if I give you a fair chance?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'll take my shot like this," Brian said, turning around so that he was facing away from the basket.
"No way," Justin said.
"Way," Brian nodded. "If I make the shot, I get the point and win the game. If I miss, I default, and you win."
"I don't need any favours," Justin said.
"I'm just trying to make it out of here alive," Brian said. "The last thing I need is you running me over again."
"Fine," Justin said, rolling his eyes. "Tell you what - you make this shot, and I'll buy you a beer."
"Why do I get the feeling that's just your way of getting me to take you out somewhere you won't get carded?" Brian asked.
Justin grinned.
"Fine," Brian said, and dribbled a couple more times. Justin stood there watching him, arms crossed over his chest, as Brian closed his eyes and tossed the ball back over his head towards the basket.
"Shit."
Brian grinned. He didn't even need to ask whether the ball had gone in or not. "Come on, Junior," he said, putting his hand on Justin's shoulder. "I need a shower, and then you owe me a beer."
"Tell me something," Justin said, pulling his jersey completely off and using it to mop the sweat off his face and neck. "How many times have you made a shot like that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Brian shrugged. "A couple hundred?"
"Hustler."
"Takes one to know one."
Hustle
"Wait, wait, wait," Justin said, bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and panting heavily. "Hold on a minute, okay?"
"You ready to give up already?" Brian asked, bouncing the ball on the floor in front of him.
"No," Justin said, wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his jersey. "I just need to catch my breath."
"Take all the time you need," Brian said, lining up a three-pointer and tossing it neatly through the basket.
"Now, what the hell is that all about?" Justin asked, watching Brian jog over to where the ball had landed and dribble it back to centre court. "You're totally hustling me, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look at you," Justin said, waving one hand in front of him. "You're, like, three feet tall, you've got a freakin' _heart_ condition, and you're killing me, here. You're supposed to suck."
Brian chuckled. "Okay, I'm gonna try real hard to take that as a compliment."
"Joey - Joey's, like, six inches taller than you, and he's from New York, for Christ's sake, and he totally sucks. Lance has his heart thing, and he sucks. Chris is short, and I can wipe up the court with him."
"All that tells me is that your group ain't got no game, Timberlake."
"I've _seen_ AJ play," Justin said. "And Kevin's tall and pretty, but that's about it."
"You think Kevin's pretty?" Brian asked, amused. "I'll have to tell him you said that."
"I've got eyes," Justin said, dismissively. "And Howie isn't exactly Dr. J, either."
"Nick's good," Brian said, making another basket.
"Nick's good when he's paying attention to the game and not busy trying to pull Chris's shorts down or give JC a wedgie."
"That was a strategic move. Part of our offense is to keep you guys off-guard."
"I'm sure JC appreciated being able to sing in a higher register for two days, although Chris was a little threatened by it."
Brian chuckled again. "You gonna talk all night, or are we going to play some ball?"
"Okay, okay," Justin said, straightening himself up and going over to stand in front of Brian. "What's the score again?"
"I'm beating you 19-14," Brian said, dribbling the ball.
"Not for long," Justin said, reaching out to steal the ball away from Brian.
Brian was ready for his move, though, and faked away to the right, jogging down the court and tossing in another basket. "20-14," he said, passing the ball to Justin.
"I _know_ what the damn _score_ is," Justin scowled.
"Just checking," Brian said.
Justin dribbled a couple of times, set up a shot, and then dribbled again. Brian waited in front of him to do something, and Justin finally made a move to the left. Brian met the move, but Justin slammed in to him, hard, knocking him to the floor and dribbling the ball to the basket. When he turned around, Brian was still on the floor. "Oh, shit." He walked over, frowning. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching a hand down to pull Brian back up.
"No," Brian said, rubbing his shoulder. "Why makes you think a hundred and eighty pounds of hormonal teenager slamming into me would _hurt_?"
"Sorry," Justin said, shame-faced. "I didn't mean to foul you that hard. Here," he said, handing him the ball. "Take a free throw. You were gonna beat me, anyway."
Brian took the ball, and bounced it a couple of times. He started to grin, and said, "What if I give you a fair chance?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'll take my shot like this," Brian said, turning around so that he was facing away from the basket.
"No way," Justin said.
"Way," Brian nodded. "If I make the shot, I get the point and win the game. If I miss, I default, and you win."
"I don't need any favours," Justin said.
"I'm just trying to make it out of here alive," Brian said. "The last thing I need is you running me over again."
"Fine," Justin said, rolling his eyes. "Tell you what - you make this shot, and I'll buy you a beer."
"Why do I get the feeling that's just your way of getting me to take you out somewhere you won't get carded?" Brian asked.
Justin grinned.
"Fine," Brian said, and dribbled a couple more times. Justin stood there watching him, arms crossed over his chest, as Brian closed his eyes and tossed the ball back over his head towards the basket.
"Shit."
Brian grinned. He didn't even need to ask whether the ball had gone in or not. "Come on, Junior," he said, putting his hand on Justin's shoulder. "I need a shower, and then you owe me a beer."
"Tell me something," Justin said, pulling his jersey completely off and using it to mop the sweat off his face and neck. "How many times have you made a shot like that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Brian shrugged. "A couple hundred?"
"Hustler."
"Takes one to know one."