JC had once told him he had beautiful hands, delicate but strong. He'd looked a lot at his hands afterwards and had decided that yes, they were nice, and he liked them quite a bit, and not just because JC liked them either. He started to try to get them into as many of his photo shoots as possible. Just last week a photographer had commented on his hands, and he'd feigned embarrassment and blushed before he brought them up into the shot.

Now they felt big and clumsy, and were shaking.

A long time ago, he'd been a true romantic, completely in love with the idea of love. He would have beautiful music in the background, and a candlelit dinner, and maybe a thunderstorm, and the first kiss would be gentle and slow and. He had bought the candlesticks and a thousand other things that seemed romantic. But he was never home often enough to use them, and three fake girlfriends later, they started to seem silly. He didn't put them away though, and still thought that maybe someday everything would be just like he'd always imagined.

He had never really pictured the first kiss being hot and frenzied and full of need and.

And his hands were fumbling with the buttons on Joey's shirt, and there was nothing romantic about this, but his insides were pounding and it was so yes and so, so much more.