When Jamie woke up, it was not at all a pleasant experience. For one thing, Aaron was a pillow thief, so Jamie had been forced to curl up with her head halfway on the bed, halfway on the night table where at least there was a doily to cushion her head. For another, Aaron instinctively curled around anyone who was in bed with him while he was sleeping, and it took a couple of seconds for Jamie to remember that he had actor cum on his shirt.

"Eww!" she shrieked loudly, and then, "ow," when her head hit the corner of the night table. She at least had the pleasure of seeing that her shrieking woke Aaron up, too. He didn't look too happy, either.

"Jesus Christ, Jamie. You sound like a fucking..." Aaron trailed off, looking at a point somewhere over Jamie's head.

Jamie turned around slowly, only to be faced with a glaring big sister. "Good morning," Britney said sweetly. "May I ask what you're doing in bed with my supposedly virtuous little sister, Aaron Carter?"

Jamie groaned. Britney had absolutely no gaydar whatsoever. No wonder it took so long for her to break up with Justin.

"I will point out that we both have all our clothes on," Aaron said brightly, not helping matters in the least. Britney was the one who'd told him when he turned fifteen to always keep his clothes on during a sleepover; that way if a parent walked in, it looked totally innocent.

"Um-hmm," Britney said. "What are those stains on the knees of your pants?"

Jamie groaned, and buried her head in the mattress, wishing vaguely that all her pillows weren't currently shoved beneath Aaron's shoulders. If she had one, maybe she could suffocate herself.

"Um... I dropped something outside and had to get it?"

"On your knees?" Britney asked.

"I'm incredibly clumsy," Aaron said earnestly.

Britney's eyes widened very, very slowly. And then she reached for the phone. "Thats it, Aaron Carter. I'm calling your..." She cringed slightly. "Mother."

"No!" Aaron shrieked, more shrilly than Jamie. "Okay, okay: I'm gay. Jesus Christ, Britney. You have the gaydar of a turnip."

"You really expect me to believe that?" Britney asked, eyebrow raised.

"Britney, have I ever looked at your boobs?" Britney thought for a moment. "No," Aaron explained slowly. "Because they're icky."

Britney's eyes went wider than before. She started to dial.

"Not your boobs in particular," Aaron said quickly. "Just...boobs in general. Girl parts. Icky."

Britney lowered the phone, thought for a second, then raised her shirt. Aaron just stared at her calmly. Jamie buried her head further in the mattress, hoping she'd pass out from lack of oxygen before Britney flashed anything else.

After a minute or so, Britney lowered her shirt. "Okay," she said. "You're gay. But my gaydar is just fine, thank you very much."

"Your gaydar is excellent," Aaron said soothingly. "Nobody picks out the queers better than you."

"Damn straight," Britney said proudly, apparently unaware of the ramifications of her excellent selection of queers, usually as boyfriends. She sat on the corner of Jamie's bed. "So Jamie, like, your fag-hag?"

Jamie lifted her head out of the mattress. "I am not his fag-hag!"

"Thats right," Aaron said. "She's the best little Non-Gay Female Best Friend in town."

Jamie nodded proudly, and buried her head back into the mattress. Aaron mouthed, "Fag-hag," and Britney giggled.

"I heard that," Jamie said. Aaron pretended not to hear her.


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