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seperis (almost) dared me, and I was powerless to resist. Hence, we have a QaFUS/popslash crossover, two fandoms I've never written in, just because Jenn wanted to see Justin/Justin.
Any character assassination that I have committed, please feel free to point out. For those who don't follow along at home, this is Justin. This is the pop version of Justin as he and his smile appear in the fic. Gratuitous dancing, no sex, set during QaFUS Justin's brief escape to New York.
Double the Trouble
Walking into the club, Brian's credit card safely tucked away in his wallet, Justin's vaguely disappointed that it doesn't look too different from Babylon. He'd expected New York to be incredible. To be this overwhelming flurry of clubs and crowds. To be glamorous and busy, fun and exciting. As it turns out, it's just a bigger Pittsburg. There are some gorgeous guys, but most are just ordinary, and half of them seem as young as he is.
He's been here less than twenty-four hours and he's already unimpressed.
Uncrossing his arms, and forcing himself not to pout, he makes his way to the bar. It's a bit packed (no more packed than Babylon, his mind points out) and the strobe lights are a bit brighter, quicker. The music's a little louder, but it's the same pop-nonsense that blares from Brian's jeep.
Brian.
There's no point thinking about that now. He'll look for a job tomorrow. Return Brian's credit card when he figures out how to pay him back.
Moving through the crowd, sauntering over the bar just the way Brian would, he notices the stares following him. Grinning, he watches them out of the corner of his eye as he passes, and takes note of the occasional cute guy. Might be good to remember them later. Just because he's got Brian's card, doesn't mean that free drinks aren't a good idea.
The bartender looks him up and down, taking just a little more interest than was warranted. Justin smiles at him, but the guy's expression doesn't change. "Don't even try it, kid."
Justin hisses a sigh. Possibly there were advantages to Pittsburg. At least he could get served a drink.
He turns away from the bar, and walks down the stairs to the dance floor. Stops halfway down to have a good look at the mass of bodies. Maybe he'd been too harsh, he thinks, as his lips twisted into a smirk. Some of these guys are gorgeous. And he hasn't slept with any of them.
Well, not yet.
Scanning across the crowd, feeling somewhat like a kid in a candy store, he's working out who he wants first. There's a tall brunette moving slowly a few yards to his left; there's a guy with red hair to his shoulders (and Justin's fairly sure it's not naturally that copper, but he'd like to find out), laughing with his head thrown back on the other side of the room. There's a guy in a mesh top that shimmers invitingly, and there's a guy in jeans so tight that they leave nothing to the imagination. In the middle of the room there's a blond, dancing as if nothing else in the world matters. It's intense, that level of pure concentration, and it's incredibly sexy.
Here are all the things he loves about clubs. Sweaty flesh, and bodies moving like an invitation to sex; broad shoulders, grabby hands and wild smiles; a multitude of guys willing to do almost anything for the night. There's the smoke machines and bright lights, the beat that you can feel thrumming through your bones, and the slightly glazed stares, caused by more than alcohol. And beyond all that, there's the thrill of being young and beautiful, being one of the chosen royalty of this scene, and knowing that he can get anything he wants.
Almost anything he wants.
He shakes off the thoughts of Pittsburg (of Brian) and makes his entrance on to the dance floor, smirking as the crowd parts for him. He dances through the mass of arms and legs, taking his time, making the journey through them a tease, a hint at something they'll only get if they're very, very lucky. Most guys aren't that lucky.
Some of the things that attract him have nothing to do with appearance. A pretty face alone, or a great ass, can get boring within fifteen minutes. Well, certainly within an hour, he amends as he admires the crowd around him. You need more than that to be worth any effort. You need to be aware of yourself, of how good you look, to really be sexy. Justin's always been a sucker for confidence.
He stops barely a foot from the dancing blond and thinks that this guy has confidence sweating out of every pore. That's okay. So does Justin.
Up closer, he can see that the guy's hair is cropped fairly short, barely a fingertip long, and imagines the soft feel of it under his palms. Under the brighter lights, he'd thought the guy was blond, but now he can see it's more of a sandy blonde, or light brown. The lighting's too unpredictable to tell for sure, but it does let him see the guy's body a bit better.
Black jeans that look as plain as most of Brian's wardrobe, meaning that they probably cost a fortune to casually look so good. There's a fitting black tank top, with red across the shoulders that just draws your eye to the guy's arms. He's got great arms (almost better than Brian's). Muscles defined and gleaming in the flashing lights, and the guy seems incapable of moving his feet without moving his arms and hands too. Justin would laugh at him, but it looks good. Very good.
He watches this guy dance, eyes closed, listening to the music, and spots the pattern to the moves. For fun, Justin tries to imitate the fast steps. The guy opens his eyes and seems to see Justin for the first time. He's got great eyes, intense and expressive. They go from blank and surprised, to playful and challenging in the time it takes Justin to breathe and smile. The guy looks at him, at Justin copying his moves, and nods.
Then he takes a half-step to the side, does this bouncing and turning thing, then swivels back around with a smooth glide of his hand. Justin thinks for a moment, lets his body move on auto-pilot to the upbeat music, until he figures out just what the guy did. He copies, doesn't quite get the bouncing thing right, but it's close enough for the other guy to grin at him and show him again.
This time, Justin gets it right.
The guy nods, the corners of his mouth twisting up, and then it's on. He showcases another combination, a couple of energetic steps and moving arms. Justin just smiles at the guy, and when the guy does it a second time, just a little slower, Justin does it with him. The guy absolutely beams at him, eyes crinkling and lips showing off perfect, white teeth that Justin wants to run his tongue over.
There's another set of moves, and Justin dances with him the second time, this time adding a spin at the end that the guy copies, only half a second behind. He grinning now, and this is just as much a competition as a very outgoing form of foreplay. They keep it up through that song, dancing and mirroring each other's moves, and through the next too. At the start of the third song, the guy points to his fingers, counts out one, two, three on his fingers, and then does it again, leaving Justin uncertain. His confusion must show, because the guy just shrugs, and dances, not waiting for Justin at all.
After a second, Justin realizes what the guy's doing. It's just the first set of moves, followed by the second, followed by the third, and then repeated. Justin joins in, and it's almost, but not quite, like dancing with his reflection. Similar height, similar age, and the same dance moves. He hadn't noticed when the crush of bodies around them had backed off, but there's a small circle around them, giving them space. Two thirds of the way through the song, Justin's pretty much out of breath, heart pounding and enjoying every minute of it. They're moving in a rhythm just for them, and this guy is looking at him, intense, watching his body move, and Justin doesn't want to stop, regardless of how hard he's breathing. It's almost as good as sex.
Then the guy just falls backward, and Justin has a split-second of worrying about what he'd taken, if he'd taken anything, but the guy catches himself on his hands. He's bent over, feet on the floor, arms stretched straight from his shoulders, hands flat against the ground, and then he just pushes himself back up. He went from standing, to splayed backwards like some weird yoga position, to bouncing back on his feet, all in a matter of seconds, and now he's grinning at Justin.
Justin just laughs. He may be young and fit, but there's no way in hell he could do that.
The guy laughs back at him, obviously pleased with himself, and there's that shining smile and perfect teeth again. This time, the urge to just lean over and lick that grin is distracted by the realization that this guy is seriously... flexible. His mind can't seem to keep up with the images and possibility caused by that thought. He also notices that the other guy is only barely out of breath.
The music changes, still dance-pop, but something a bit darker; a stronger bass that makes Justin's hips sway. This time, the guy copies him, slim hips moving sinfully to the low sound. Justin takes a step closer, right into the guy's personal space, and wraps an arm around his waist. There's a challenge on the guy's face, but he just lifts his arms up and makes the sway this full-body thing that makes Justin think of snakes. Justin lets his hands, both of them, slowly move down, over the slight curve of a hip, then around to a great ass. He squeezes, and the guy gasps, moving closer, until this is a full body press from shoulder to thighs.
They move to the rhythm, swaying and Justin shifts so that his thigh is between the other guy's. The guy grins at him, shifts impossibly closer, and this time the expression on his face is nothing but hungry. Their faces are less than an inch apart, and Justin can smell the subtle cologne. He bends his head slightly and licks a wet stripe up the guy's neck, earning a low moan that sounds like sex. The guy's head is thrown back, neck exposed, and lips slack. Justin can still see a flash of those whiter than white teeth, and this times he gives into the urge to lick them.
The kiss starts off messy, tongues and teeth everywhere, but just ends up hungry. The guy's biting Justin's lower lip, and Justin's running his tongue over those teeth, feeling the slight irregularities under his tongue. He's got both hands on the guy's ass now, and is pulling him closer, then running a hand under that tight top, feeling the muscles shift. There's a strong hand around the back of Justin's neck, and another hand pulling his shirt out of his jeans, and he's hard enough that he's not even thinking about escaping to a back room; just wants to get this guy naked right here.
He's pushed back with a warm hand on his shoulder, a hand that isn't going anywhere, just squeezing his shoulder firmly. He can feel the guy's warm breath on lips as he says, "Not... not here. It's not a good idea, dawg."
Justin spares a second to wonder what kind of idiotic white guy uses the phrase "dawg", but the guy's hips are grinding against his in these sexy little circles that make him want to whimper. He's more interested in getting those jeans off the guy's hips than in listening to him talk. "Where?" He leaves his hands down the back of the guy's waistband.
The guy's eyes are hooded, and they go even darker at the gruff, breathless sound of Justin's voice. "Out... C'mon." The guy is pulling back from Justin, pulling arms free and moving off the dance floor, looking back for Justin to follow.
They go back up the stairs, past the barman, and Justin looks behind when he realizes they're being followed. The hulk behind them has bodybuilder written all over him, and he barely seems to have a neck. It's just a head on top of shoulders that have too much muscle to be believed. They're leaving the club, and the bodybuilder is still behind them, so Justin reaches forward and tugs on his guy's tank top.
He just turns around with eyebrow raised, and Justin points over his shoulder to the hulk. This causes the other eyebrow to raise, and brings out another smile with those teeth. "Hey, I'll be fine. Consider yourself off-duty, man."
The human hulk actually pays attention to that. "Sure?"
"Yeah, go dawg. I'll be fine." Then Justin realizes the blindingly obvious. The hulk's security, not just a random freakishly over-zealous bodybuilder. Suddenly he wonders just who he's going home with.
"Okay." Obviously, the hulk is a man of few words. "Later, Justin," he finishes, nodding at them, and freaking Justin out. He's barely spoken to anyone in New York; he's paying for stuff with Brian's card. He doesn't get how the hulk knows his name.
His curiosity gets the better of him. "Who are you?" This guy looks younger than Justin, but he's used to hulking bodyguards, and he's leading them to the type of low, shiny car that would have Brian green with envy.
For the first time, the guy looks at Justin, completely surprised. "You don't know who I am?" Maybe a little insulted.
Justin's thinking that he's got a definite type when it comes to guys. He's amused at himself, but he guesses he shouldn't be surprised. "I just got to New York. Haven't been here long." This guy is a younger version of Brian; confident, wealthy, sexy as hell, and obviously well-known in the clubs.
"But, seriously, man. You haven't heard of me?" The guy is watching him now, intently staring at him, as if waiting for a practical joke. In the streetlight, Justin decides the guy's hair is brown. He thinks his eyes are blue, but it's too dark to be certain.
Justin just shakes his head, and feels his damp fringe still stuck against his forehead. "Nope."
For some reason, this results in the guy smiling at him as he opens the car doors. "Name's Justin," he says, when they've both climbed in.
Justin laughs, long and hard, almost doubled over in the comfortable leather seat. He's totally sober, so he shouldn't find this so amusing, the idea of double Justins dancing together, but it is. It takes him a couple minutes to get his breath back enough to explain the joke. "Justin?"
"Yeah." The other Justin nods, looking adorably confused. "Ring a bell?"
"Well, it's familiar..." Justin starts, but dissolves into giggles again. He feels like a kid, but the idea of living in New York suddenly seems possible, if filled with strange coincidences.
"So, now do you know who I am?" The other Justin can't seem to make his mind up on whether he's confused, annoyed or just horny, and it shows on his face. Then he starts up the car, this low purr that Justin can barely hear after the pounding beats of the club. From the small smirk on the guy's face, it's clear that he loves his car, even if Justin is confusing the hell out of him at the moment.
"I'm Justin," he says, and waits for this guy to get it.
The guy looks wary, just for a second, but then he's smiling sharply. "What?" He asks carefully, politely, and shoots a look at the door behind Justin.
"It's my name too." Justin fumbles in his back pocket, and pulls out his license, thumb covering the year of birth. He goes on, hating the need to explain his own bad joke. "That's why it's familiar."
There's a moment of intense relief on the guy's face as he reads the license and then waves it away. After a second, he's snickering. "Dude, it's like, double the trouble!"
And then they're both laughing as Justin drives off.
seperis (almost) dared me, and I was powerless to resist. Hence, we have a QaFUS/popslash crossover, two fandoms I've never written in, just because Jenn wanted to see Justin/Justin. Any character assassination that I have committed, please feel free to point out. For those who don't follow along at home, this is Justin. This is the pop version of Justin as he and his smile appear in the fic. Gratuitous dancing, no sex, set during QaFUS Justin's brief escape to New York.
Double the Trouble
Walking into the club, Brian's credit card safely tucked away in his wallet, Justin's vaguely disappointed that it doesn't look too different from Babylon. He'd expected New York to be incredible. To be this overwhelming flurry of clubs and crowds. To be glamorous and busy, fun and exciting. As it turns out, it's just a bigger Pittsburg. There are some gorgeous guys, but most are just ordinary, and half of them seem as young as he is.
He's been here less than twenty-four hours and he's already unimpressed.
Uncrossing his arms, and forcing himself not to pout, he makes his way to the bar. It's a bit packed (no more packed than Babylon, his mind points out) and the strobe lights are a bit brighter, quicker. The music's a little louder, but it's the same pop-nonsense that blares from Brian's jeep.
Brian.
There's no point thinking about that now. He'll look for a job tomorrow. Return Brian's credit card when he figures out how to pay him back.
Moving through the crowd, sauntering over the bar just the way Brian would, he notices the stares following him. Grinning, he watches them out of the corner of his eye as he passes, and takes note of the occasional cute guy. Might be good to remember them later. Just because he's got Brian's card, doesn't mean that free drinks aren't a good idea.
The bartender looks him up and down, taking just a little more interest than was warranted. Justin smiles at him, but the guy's expression doesn't change. "Don't even try it, kid."
Justin hisses a sigh. Possibly there were advantages to Pittsburg. At least he could get served a drink.
He turns away from the bar, and walks down the stairs to the dance floor. Stops halfway down to have a good look at the mass of bodies. Maybe he'd been too harsh, he thinks, as his lips twisted into a smirk. Some of these guys are gorgeous. And he hasn't slept with any of them.
Well, not yet.
Scanning across the crowd, feeling somewhat like a kid in a candy store, he's working out who he wants first. There's a tall brunette moving slowly a few yards to his left; there's a guy with red hair to his shoulders (and Justin's fairly sure it's not naturally that copper, but he'd like to find out), laughing with his head thrown back on the other side of the room. There's a guy in a mesh top that shimmers invitingly, and there's a guy in jeans so tight that they leave nothing to the imagination. In the middle of the room there's a blond, dancing as if nothing else in the world matters. It's intense, that level of pure concentration, and it's incredibly sexy.
Here are all the things he loves about clubs. Sweaty flesh, and bodies moving like an invitation to sex; broad shoulders, grabby hands and wild smiles; a multitude of guys willing to do almost anything for the night. There's the smoke machines and bright lights, the beat that you can feel thrumming through your bones, and the slightly glazed stares, caused by more than alcohol. And beyond all that, there's the thrill of being young and beautiful, being one of the chosen royalty of this scene, and knowing that he can get anything he wants.
Almost anything he wants.
He shakes off the thoughts of Pittsburg (of Brian) and makes his entrance on to the dance floor, smirking as the crowd parts for him. He dances through the mass of arms and legs, taking his time, making the journey through them a tease, a hint at something they'll only get if they're very, very lucky. Most guys aren't that lucky.
Some of the things that attract him have nothing to do with appearance. A pretty face alone, or a great ass, can get boring within fifteen minutes. Well, certainly within an hour, he amends as he admires the crowd around him. You need more than that to be worth any effort. You need to be aware of yourself, of how good you look, to really be sexy. Justin's always been a sucker for confidence.
He stops barely a foot from the dancing blond and thinks that this guy has confidence sweating out of every pore. That's okay. So does Justin.
Up closer, he can see that the guy's hair is cropped fairly short, barely a fingertip long, and imagines the soft feel of it under his palms. Under the brighter lights, he'd thought the guy was blond, but now he can see it's more of a sandy blonde, or light brown. The lighting's too unpredictable to tell for sure, but it does let him see the guy's body a bit better.
Black jeans that look as plain as most of Brian's wardrobe, meaning that they probably cost a fortune to casually look so good. There's a fitting black tank top, with red across the shoulders that just draws your eye to the guy's arms. He's got great arms (almost better than Brian's). Muscles defined and gleaming in the flashing lights, and the guy seems incapable of moving his feet without moving his arms and hands too. Justin would laugh at him, but it looks good. Very good.
He watches this guy dance, eyes closed, listening to the music, and spots the pattern to the moves. For fun, Justin tries to imitate the fast steps. The guy opens his eyes and seems to see Justin for the first time. He's got great eyes, intense and expressive. They go from blank and surprised, to playful and challenging in the time it takes Justin to breathe and smile. The guy looks at him, at Justin copying his moves, and nods.
Then he takes a half-step to the side, does this bouncing and turning thing, then swivels back around with a smooth glide of his hand. Justin thinks for a moment, lets his body move on auto-pilot to the upbeat music, until he figures out just what the guy did. He copies, doesn't quite get the bouncing thing right, but it's close enough for the other guy to grin at him and show him again.
This time, Justin gets it right.
The guy nods, the corners of his mouth twisting up, and then it's on. He showcases another combination, a couple of energetic steps and moving arms. Justin just smiles at the guy, and when the guy does it a second time, just a little slower, Justin does it with him. The guy absolutely beams at him, eyes crinkling and lips showing off perfect, white teeth that Justin wants to run his tongue over.
There's another set of moves, and Justin dances with him the second time, this time adding a spin at the end that the guy copies, only half a second behind. He grinning now, and this is just as much a competition as a very outgoing form of foreplay. They keep it up through that song, dancing and mirroring each other's moves, and through the next too. At the start of the third song, the guy points to his fingers, counts out one, two, three on his fingers, and then does it again, leaving Justin uncertain. His confusion must show, because the guy just shrugs, and dances, not waiting for Justin at all.
After a second, Justin realizes what the guy's doing. It's just the first set of moves, followed by the second, followed by the third, and then repeated. Justin joins in, and it's almost, but not quite, like dancing with his reflection. Similar height, similar age, and the same dance moves. He hadn't noticed when the crush of bodies around them had backed off, but there's a small circle around them, giving them space. Two thirds of the way through the song, Justin's pretty much out of breath, heart pounding and enjoying every minute of it. They're moving in a rhythm just for them, and this guy is looking at him, intense, watching his body move, and Justin doesn't want to stop, regardless of how hard he's breathing. It's almost as good as sex.
Then the guy just falls backward, and Justin has a split-second of worrying about what he'd taken, if he'd taken anything, but the guy catches himself on his hands. He's bent over, feet on the floor, arms stretched straight from his shoulders, hands flat against the ground, and then he just pushes himself back up. He went from standing, to splayed backwards like some weird yoga position, to bouncing back on his feet, all in a matter of seconds, and now he's grinning at Justin.
Justin just laughs. He may be young and fit, but there's no way in hell he could do that.
The guy laughs back at him, obviously pleased with himself, and there's that shining smile and perfect teeth again. This time, the urge to just lean over and lick that grin is distracted by the realization that this guy is seriously... flexible. His mind can't seem to keep up with the images and possibility caused by that thought. He also notices that the other guy is only barely out of breath.
The music changes, still dance-pop, but something a bit darker; a stronger bass that makes Justin's hips sway. This time, the guy copies him, slim hips moving sinfully to the low sound. Justin takes a step closer, right into the guy's personal space, and wraps an arm around his waist. There's a challenge on the guy's face, but he just lifts his arms up and makes the sway this full-body thing that makes Justin think of snakes. Justin lets his hands, both of them, slowly move down, over the slight curve of a hip, then around to a great ass. He squeezes, and the guy gasps, moving closer, until this is a full body press from shoulder to thighs.
They move to the rhythm, swaying and Justin shifts so that his thigh is between the other guy's. The guy grins at him, shifts impossibly closer, and this time the expression on his face is nothing but hungry. Their faces are less than an inch apart, and Justin can smell the subtle cologne. He bends his head slightly and licks a wet stripe up the guy's neck, earning a low moan that sounds like sex. The guy's head is thrown back, neck exposed, and lips slack. Justin can still see a flash of those whiter than white teeth, and this times he gives into the urge to lick them.
The kiss starts off messy, tongues and teeth everywhere, but just ends up hungry. The guy's biting Justin's lower lip, and Justin's running his tongue over those teeth, feeling the slight irregularities under his tongue. He's got both hands on the guy's ass now, and is pulling him closer, then running a hand under that tight top, feeling the muscles shift. There's a strong hand around the back of Justin's neck, and another hand pulling his shirt out of his jeans, and he's hard enough that he's not even thinking about escaping to a back room; just wants to get this guy naked right here.
He's pushed back with a warm hand on his shoulder, a hand that isn't going anywhere, just squeezing his shoulder firmly. He can feel the guy's warm breath on lips as he says, "Not... not here. It's not a good idea, dawg."
Justin spares a second to wonder what kind of idiotic white guy uses the phrase "dawg", but the guy's hips are grinding against his in these sexy little circles that make him want to whimper. He's more interested in getting those jeans off the guy's hips than in listening to him talk. "Where?" He leaves his hands down the back of the guy's waistband.
The guy's eyes are hooded, and they go even darker at the gruff, breathless sound of Justin's voice. "Out... C'mon." The guy is pulling back from Justin, pulling arms free and moving off the dance floor, looking back for Justin to follow.
They go back up the stairs, past the barman, and Justin looks behind when he realizes they're being followed. The hulk behind them has bodybuilder written all over him, and he barely seems to have a neck. It's just a head on top of shoulders that have too much muscle to be believed. They're leaving the club, and the bodybuilder is still behind them, so Justin reaches forward and tugs on his guy's tank top.
He just turns around with eyebrow raised, and Justin points over his shoulder to the hulk. This causes the other eyebrow to raise, and brings out another smile with those teeth. "Hey, I'll be fine. Consider yourself off-duty, man."
The human hulk actually pays attention to that. "Sure?"
"Yeah, go dawg. I'll be fine." Then Justin realizes the blindingly obvious. The hulk's security, not just a random freakishly over-zealous bodybuilder. Suddenly he wonders just who he's going home with.
"Okay." Obviously, the hulk is a man of few words. "Later, Justin," he finishes, nodding at them, and freaking Justin out. He's barely spoken to anyone in New York; he's paying for stuff with Brian's card. He doesn't get how the hulk knows his name.
His curiosity gets the better of him. "Who are you?" This guy looks younger than Justin, but he's used to hulking bodyguards, and he's leading them to the type of low, shiny car that would have Brian green with envy.
For the first time, the guy looks at Justin, completely surprised. "You don't know who I am?" Maybe a little insulted.
Justin's thinking that he's got a definite type when it comes to guys. He's amused at himself, but he guesses he shouldn't be surprised. "I just got to New York. Haven't been here long." This guy is a younger version of Brian; confident, wealthy, sexy as hell, and obviously well-known in the clubs.
"But, seriously, man. You haven't heard of me?" The guy is watching him now, intently staring at him, as if waiting for a practical joke. In the streetlight, Justin decides the guy's hair is brown. He thinks his eyes are blue, but it's too dark to be certain.
Justin just shakes his head, and feels his damp fringe still stuck against his forehead. "Nope."
For some reason, this results in the guy smiling at him as he opens the car doors. "Name's Justin," he says, when they've both climbed in.
Justin laughs, long and hard, almost doubled over in the comfortable leather seat. He's totally sober, so he shouldn't find this so amusing, the idea of double Justins dancing together, but it is. It takes him a couple minutes to get his breath back enough to explain the joke. "Justin?"
"Yeah." The other Justin nods, looking adorably confused. "Ring a bell?"
"Well, it's familiar..." Justin starts, but dissolves into giggles again. He feels like a kid, but the idea of living in New York suddenly seems possible, if filled with strange coincidences.
"So, now do you know who I am?" The other Justin can't seem to make his mind up on whether he's confused, annoyed or just horny, and it shows on his face. Then he starts up the car, this low purr that Justin can barely hear after the pounding beats of the club. From the small smirk on the guy's face, it's clear that he loves his car, even if Justin is confusing the hell out of him at the moment.
"I'm Justin," he says, and waits for this guy to get it.
The guy looks wary, just for a second, but then he's smiling sharply. "What?" He asks carefully, politely, and shoots a look at the door behind Justin.
"It's my name too." Justin fumbles in his back pocket, and pulls out his license, thumb covering the year of birth. He goes on, hating the need to explain his own bad joke. "That's why it's familiar."
There's a moment of intense relief on the guy's face as he reads the license and then waves it away. After a second, he's snickering. "Dude, it's like, double the trouble!"
And then they're both laughing as Justin drives off.
