Title: I Think I Love You

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Fandom: Brady Bunch/Partridge Family

Pairing: Greg Brady/Keith Partridge

Rating: NC-17

Email address: silkn1@att.net

Disclaimer: I dunno who owns the Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family characters, but I know it's not me. This is not for profit.

Status: New/Complete

Date: 1/16/02

Series/Sequel: No

Other Web Site: http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Archive: If I sent it to you, please feel free. All others, please ask.

Summary: Ever wonder what it might be like if the Partridge Family toured with the Brady Bunch?

Warnings: m/m sex, AU, humor, crossover

Notes: No spoilers for anything here, but this definitely confirms how twisted my mind can be.

For Tinnean, who suggested this pairing. But I take full responsibility.


I Think I Love You
by Silk

"Mommm! Why are we getting second billing to some group called the Brady Bunch? And what are they doing on *our* tour anyway?" Keith Partridge whined. His mother, all-seeing, all-knowing Shirley Partridge, smiled patiently.

"Oh, honey, you're just jealous. Reuben said it would be good for your image if you were seen as *more* than the usual rock star Casanova."

"What's wrong with my image? I *like* my image! I *like* having a girl waiting in every city! This is the most fun I've had since you let me fingerpaint all over my bedroom wall when I was five."

"Sweetie, you've always been creative. Even when you were little."

"If I make nice with these Brady Bunch people, can I have a bonus at the end of the tour?" Keith asked, his expression midway between greed and lust.

"Certainly. What would Mama's baby like, dear?"

"A monster truck."

Shirley frowned at her oldest child. "And what would you do with something like that, Keith?"

"Run people over," he responded gleefully, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Oh, you," she said, waving a hand at him. She clucked her tongue and headed for the kitchen, which was more or less the nerve center for the whole family. Keith stared after her, a bemused grin on his handsome young face.

"Wasn't kidding, Mom," he muttered under his breath. "You'd be the first one I'd hit, too." He giggled at the thought of a life without Mom. God, he could do anything he wanted. Bring strange people home at all hours of the day and night. No, wait, he already did that. Oh, well, he could have sex in the middle of the living room if he wanted.

Mmm, that was better. He rubbed himself through his tight spandex jumpsuit, rather pleased with the size of the erection he was able to raise in just a few seconds.

"I'll go load up the van, Mom," he called out, thinking he would have just enough time for a quickie before they hit the stage. *If* they didn't run into traffic.

"Let your brother help you," she shouted back.

"Aw, Mom. Danny's too short to reach anything. Besides, all he wants to do is supervise."

Sure enough, his nemesis showed up. "That's called being an entrepreneur, Keith."

"No, it's called being lazy."

"I'm telling Mom."

"Shit."

"I'm telling her that, too."

*****

Greg Brady glanced at his mother, who seemed unusually perky even for *her*, and sighed. "Mom, you're going to make us wear suits?"

"Now, Greg, I want all of you to put your best foot forward. Oh, dear, I knew I should have insisted that you cut your hair," she fretted.

"Mom, my hair is fine."

"It's getting long. Like a girl."

"Mom, I do not look like a girl."

"Mother knows best, Greg," interjected his least favorite sister, Jan.

"We're going to be late," he said, ignoring Jan.

"I want you to look good."

"I look great. Now let's go. Please?"

*****

Greg was so preoccupied with trying to knot his tie, he walked straight into Keith.

The lean, slim-hipped Partridge grunted, "Hey, man, watch where you're going!" Greg's blue eyes lit up at the sight of the rock star. "Hey, you're Keith Partridge!"

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want? An autograph?"

"Well, sure." Greg stuck out his arm and rolled up the sleeve of his black suit, exposing the crisp white linen shirt underneath. "Right there. Do it right there," he said huskily.

Keith took a second look at Greg. Tall, well-muscled, curly brown hair, blue eyes. He had a nice little package, too. Wait, wait, musn't go there, Mom wouldn't approve. She would have a fit if she knew that he secretly desired boys instead of girls.

Yet another reason to run her over with the monster truck.

Keith scrawled his name hastily with a black magic marker he kept in the pocket of his jacket. "What's your name?"

"Greg. Greg Brady." Greg proffered his hand to be shaken and Keith held onto it a little too long.

"You're touring with us, right?"

"Uh huh." Greg licked his lips and wondered why his pants suddenly felt so tight.

"We should be getting ready."

"Yeah." Greg shook himself out of his reverie and said, "You have nice hair."

"Thanks. So do you."

"Maybe we could--" Greg started tentatively.

Keith smiled slowly. "I know a place."

"We could get caught. I mean--" Greg's cheeks flamed bright red and he ducked his head to avoid Keith's probable scrutiny.

"Not if we hurry. Come on."

*****

Keith knew where all the dark places to hide were. He had to. He had an overprotective mother and more siblings than he could count.

Backstage there was a loud hum, the sound of activity. People were setting up equipment, testing mikes, and rehearsing. It was a comfortable sound, one that Keith was used to. He dragged Greg into a barren corner and kissed him.

Before Greg could recover from the kiss, Keith slid his hand inside Greg's carefully-ironed-never-show-the-crease slacks and touched him. Greg opened his mouth to say, Oh, but never quite made it. Keith's expert hands brought him to climax in moments. Keith seemed completely unperturbed by the way Greg groaned his completion into Keith's mouth. Keith wiped Greg clean with a white hankie he found in yet another pocket of his jacket and licked the sodden linen before disposing of it. Greg had never seen anything so hot before in his young life.

Keith quickly switched places with Greg and leaned against the wall of the improbably dark corner. He could hear music playing in the background, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but getting off. He unzipped his pants and all but placed his dick in Greg's suddenly sweaty hands.

"I-I don't know what to do," Greg whispered.

"Suck me," Keith breathed. He could die in the next moment and he wouldn't care. As long as Greg Brady wrapped his beautiful lips around the head of his cock.

What Greg lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. He licked and sucked and nearly gagged when he tried to swallow more of Keith's hardened length. But he kept at it, gradually falling into a rhythm that Keith clearly favored.

Keith's mouth dropped open, his slim hips thrusting involuntarily until, with a howl, he came. Greg was so surprised, he let go of Keith's dick, and his face was duly splashed with come for his lapse.

Keith reached down and pulled Greg to his feet. He kissed Greg, tasting himself on the younger man's tongue. Then he carefully licked every last bit of come from his face. "Mmm...you taste like me."

Greg smiled shyly. "That was amazing."

"Yeah," Keith sighed. "Want to try this again in a bed sometime?"

"Sure."

Suddenly he heard the band strike up chords he was more than familiar with. He should be. He wrote them. "Hey," Keith said, a charming smile in place on his face. "They're playing our song."

"Oh? Which one is that?" Greg asked.

"I think I love you."


End