Beyond the Pale

"I’ve got to hand it to you, Joey," Dawson said. "You’ve been doing a great job distracting Pacey from his broken heart."

Dawson and Joey were in Dawson’s room. Dawson was channel surfing and Joey was sitting at his desk half-heartedly working on her English homework. It had been three weeks now since Pacey and Tatiana had broken up.

Joey shrugged.

"You’ve been really patient," Dawson continued. "It’s kind of funny - you never had much use for Pacey before except as a sparring partner."

"So?" Joey said, not raising her eyes from her notebook. Dawson Leery was the most exasperating person she knew. If there was something you wanted him to pick up on, he was as oblivious as the ocean was deep. However, try to conceal anything from him, and he suddenly developed an uncanny insight and perception.

"So nothing," Dawson said. "I just find it interesting."

"Dawson," Joey said, "your life is pathetic if that’s all you have to interest you."

"Sheesh," Dawson said. "Rip me to shreds, why don’t you?" He dug his hand into the bag of Fritos that sat beside him on the bed.

Joey pushed her fingers through her hair and tried to focus on the essay she was writing. Her head was pounding, and she couldn’t concentrate. Not that that was anything new. Lately, she’d been having a lot of strange thoughts that crowded out rationality.

Just yesterday, she’d been sitting at lunch with Pacey and Dawson, and she’d become fascinated with Pacey’s hands. His long-fingered, blunt-nailed hands had been resting on his thighs, and Joey’d wondered what would happen if she reached over and grasped one of them. What would he do? Would he stare at her like she was crazy and jerk his hand away? Or...would he twine his fingers around hers and smile at her?

Joey had been in a daze until she’d realized that Dawson was waving one hand in front of her face and that Pacey was laughing at her. "Where were you?" Dawson had asked.

"Don’t go there, Dawson," Joey had answered.

Now, Joey closed her notebook with a sigh. It was no use. She was accomplishing absolutely nothing. "I’m going home," she told Dawson, cramming her things into her backpack.

Joey tossed restlessly all night, alternating between burning up and freezing. By 3 a.m. she’d decided that she must be sick. She stumbled into the kitchen to take some aspirin, then went back to the couch to huddle under her blanket.

She felt too bad to even think about going to school. She lay on the couch all day, dozing when she could, feeling sorry for herself when she couldn’t. Here she was, miserable and feverish, and all Bessie had been concerned with was rushing out of the house with Alexander so he wouldn’t catch whatever Joey had. Joey had to take care of herself. Welcome to the real world, she thought.

Joey felt marginally better by evening. She took a shower and dressed in soft, comfortable sweats. Since she’d slept most of the day, she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight. She hadn’t decided yet if she was going to school tomorrow. She might not - she hadn’t finished her stupid English essay.

Bessie and Bodie generally went to bed early, and tonight was no exception. They were in dreamland by 9:30. The baby was asleep at least temporarily. Even though he was a year and a half old now, he still didn’t sleep through the night. By 10:00, Joey was ready to climb the walls. She was so bored! There was no one to talk to, and nothing to do. She couldn’t even watch TV or listen to the radio because it might wake Alex.

Finally, in desperation for a change of scenery, Joey grabbed her blanket and went outside on the porch. She sat on the steps and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was so peaceful here at night. Joey could hear water slapping gently against the sides of their small dock and the shrill chirp of crickets. She looked up into the sky. There was no cloud cover, and the stars shone brightly.

"Star light, star bright," Joey murmured, "first star I see tonight..." She sighed. What was the point in wishing? She’d never gotten anything she’d asked for before.

"I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight," said a soft voice.

Startled, Joey looked around. Pacey stood nearby, a half-smile on his face.

"What’re you doing here?" Joey asked, trying to hide how glad she was to see him.

Pacey sat down on the step right behind Joey, one knee on either side of her. "I’ve been out wandering the streets of Capeside because that’s better than being at home right now." He paused. "The topic of discussion for the Witter family this evening has been the fact that Pacey the screw-up is failing English, Trigonometry and gym."

"Oh, Pacey," Joey said. "How could you be failing gym?"

"Well, let’s see, I never wash my gym clothes, I cut class half the time, and Coach has never liked me since that time he caught me floggin’ my dog in the locker room."

Joey snorted laughter.

"Missed you today," Pacey said. "How come you weren’t at school? I asked Dawson and he didn’t know where you were."

"I’m glad someone thought about me," Joey said petulantly. "I was sick, and Dawson never even called to check on me, and the most I got from Bessie was, ‘Oh, I hope Alex doesn’t catch it.’" Joey knew she was whining, but she felt like she was entitled.

"I did think about you," Pacey said.

Joey smiled to herself.

"Feel better now?" Pacey asked.

"A little bit," Joey said, "but my head still hurts."

"Hey, Doctor Pacey is in," Pacey said. "Lean back."

Joey leaned against him, her back to his chest, and sighed as his fingers gently probed at her temples. She went limp, leaning her head to one side as he worked his way down to the back of her neck.

"I like you this way," Pacey said, chuckling. "Putty in my hands."

"Well, you’ve done it now," Joey murmured when he stopped. "I don’t think I can move!"

There was a brief silence, then Pacey said, "You don’t have to move if you don’t want to. You’re keepin’ me warm." His hands rested absently on her shoulders.

Joey’s skin was tingling everywhere he’d touched her. "I can stand it if you can," she said, keeping her tone light. They listened to the night, and the silence between them was easy and comfortable.

A while later, Pacey asked, "What were you wishin’ for earlier?"

Joey shrugged. "I don’t know. Something. Anything." Tears filled her eyes; she was glad he couldn’t see her face. "Guess I should wish for someone who’d care when I’m sick."

"Hey, Jo, I’ve been there," Pacey said. "When I had strep throat back in January, I had to drive myself to the doctor, go get my prescription myself, and heat up my own chicken noodle soup when I got home."

Joey hitched in her breath, trying very hard not to cry. "Y’know what I wanted today, more than anything?" she whispered. "I wanted the homemade soup my mom used to make me whenever I was sick. I could almost taste it in the back of my throat."

She did cry then, unable to help herself.

"Oh, Joey," Pacey said, wrapping his arms around her waist. He put his dry cheek against her wet one, wishing there was something he could do for her. Something he could say that would make everything all right.

"I should be over it by now," Joey said finally.

"I don’t guess you’d ever get over something like that," Pacey said thoughtfully. "As lousy as my mom is, at least she’s not dead. I guess she might as well be, since we never see her or talk to her." He shrugged. "I’m not even sure exactly where she’s living now."

Joey sniffled. They needed to get off this subject as soon as possible. "So what were you wishing for?" she asked, a little too sharply. "That you had Tatia back?"

"Nah," Pacey said. "I don’t think she ever loved me nearly as much as I thought she did."

"I’m sure she has no idea what she missed," Joey said softly.

"Joey?" Pacey’s voice sounded strange. "Why’d you say that?"

Joey closed her eyes. She was so warm and comfortable sitting here wrapped in Pacey’s embrace that she hadn’t thought before she’d spoken. "I just meant that it’s a shame to date someone for six months if you don’t care that much about them," Joey clarified.

"I don’t know if that is what you meant," Pacey said. His voice was husky. His arms tightened slightly around her. "I’ve been having these weird thoughts for the past couple of weeks...."

"You haven’t cornered the market on weird thoughts, Pacey," Joey said dryly.

"...and there’s something that’s been driving me crazy," he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. "I’ve been fixated on it - obsessed might be a better word. It’s been running around in my brain like a rabid hamster in an exercise wheel."

"Well, are you going to share it with me, or make me guess?" Joey said.

"I’m convinced," Pacey said, "that when you told me the thought of someone’s tongue in your ear grossed you out, you were lying."

"You are beyond perverted," Joey said, squirming in his hold.

"Now seems to be the perfect time to find out the truth," Pacey said.

Was he insane? "I hope you catch this bug I’ve got," Joey hissed, "and I hope it lays you out for a week!"

Pacey didn’t take the bait. Instead, he bent his head and slowly traced the outer edge of her right ear with his tongue. Joey stiffened, trying to stay perfectly still. Next he ventured to the delicate ridges just inside her ear, exploring with a warm, moist tongue.

Joey was pressing her fingers into his arm, hard. "Stop it, Pacey," she demanded.

"Why?" he breathed. "Because you hate it, or because you like it?"

Pacey didn’t wait for her answer. He plunged his tongue into the well of her ear, and Joey bit her lip. There was an electric current running through her body, centered in the pit of her stomach and below. His hot mouth on her felt even better than she could have imagined in her most erotic daydreams.

Joey shuddered as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth and sucked fiercely. What had become of her? Pacey Witter had melted her into a puddle of lust here on her front porch with just his tongue in her ear. How totally embarrassing!

Pacey let go of her ear, breathing heavily, and Joey took advantage of the opportunity to pull away from him and stand up. She whirled around. "Cretin!"

Pacey grinned at her. "Was it good for you, too?"

"Move," Joey demanded. "I’m going inside."

"I knew it," Pacey said. The smug look on his face made her want to knock him into next week. "You were into it."

"Goodnight, Pacey," Joey said through her teeth. She stomped across the porch and reached for the door handle.

"You mean you don’t want me to do the other one?"

Joey huffed indignantly and stalked inside, just barely remembering not to slam the door behind her. She flung herself on the couch, trying to catch her breath.

There were two possible explanations for the strange, unprecedented feelings she was having: either she was getting worse, so much sicker that she might have to go to the doctor tomorrow...or she was more totally and completely aroused than she’d ever before been in her life. Joey pulled the blanket over her head. She had a pretty good idea which one it was.

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