This story is for Liz, who loves the embarrassing pairing. She's been incredibly patient; I promised her this on the way home from a JC show in May, and I'm not sure she actually believed I'd finish it. I'm not sure I did, either.
Many thanks to tavella for always knowing when to ping me in IM to ask, "Is there more? Did you write more?" Not only good for my ego, she has a knack for pointing out the places that aren't working, as well as those places that do. I owe you a porn outtake; oh yes, yes I do.
And thanks to without_me for reading along and providing a wonderful soundtrack of happy sounds, even despite the overabundance of Justin in this story. The next fic will be Justin-free and will be for her.
I have a secret weapon. Her name's synecdochic; she's a cheerleader, a grammar nazi, a task master, and a giggly fourteen-year-old girl. Sometimes she's all four of those things in the same five minutes. The best lines in this story are hers. Thank you, sweetheart.