Happy Birthday, Josh.
Jul. 21st, 2005 01:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ninjetti75's birthday, so like I said in the subject. Happy (late) birthday, Josh! I'd write you an epic if I could. As I can't I hope you enjoy this, trickc of course.
Thanks go as usual toephemera_pop who beta read and rightfully gave me the beta slap of doom for dropping into fanon not once but twice.
If he had any sense at all, Chris should have fallen for JC back in the day, when he was young and stupid and could have used that as a valid excuse, but he hadn’t, he’d remained immune to JC’s considerable charms. Years of friendship later, when the stupid is still valid but the young is more or less gone, that immunity has started to crumble, and all Chris can do is patch the gaps and convince himself that he really doesn’t think of JC that way. Except, he really kind of does.
Not that it’s a bad thing as such. JC’s hot and Chris likes him, a lot, and availability isn’t an issue either. At least it wasn’t the last time they spoke, which was like, three hours ago now. Chris had lain on his bed, phone pressed against his ear, bare feet brushing restlessly against his sheets as they talked.
It’s just. It’s JC. Dorky, rambling, idiotic, lame, gorgeous JC, and Chris knows he’s lost before he’s even started.
~*~*~*~
“Whoever you are, it better be important.” Chris tries to sound threatening but it’s hard when you’re half asleep. He flops on his back, cell phone held against his ear and squints into the darkness, hating the world and the inconsiderate people who think that calling in the middle of the night is okay.
“This is important.”
JC sounds happy, his voice sunshine and light against the darkness of the room and Chris relaxes at the sound.
“At least, I think it’s important, if you don’t, sorry.”
JC doesn’t sound sorry for waking him at all.
“It’s just, I forgot to say before. Justin wants us to get together soon. Some kind of barbeque I think. You need to come.”
JC stops talking and Chris listens to the faint thump of music over the open line, the beat providing a backdrop to the memory of hundreds of barbeques they’ve attended over the years. From blackened sausages served on paper plates to elaborate kebabs cooked on gleaming grills; years worth of food enjoyed with the company of his friends. “I hate you, send me the details” he says suddenly and ends the call, cutting off JC’s reply.
Seconds later and Chris is asleep once more, curled up in cool sheets and blanketed by dreams of JC that he’ll never admit.
~*~*~*~
“I’m just saying, you’ve been dropping hints for almost a year now.”
“So?” JC avoids Lance’s look, and reaches for his drink, curling his fingers around the long cool glass. “I can be patient; he’ll catch on one day.”
“You spent Thanksgiving together with your parents and he still didn’t catch on. Face it, you could hire a plane to write “JC loves Chris” across the sky and he still wouldn’t get it.” Lance looks at his own glass and signals the waiter with a casual flick of the wrist and smile. “Same again please. JC?”
“I’m good, thanks.” JC sips at his drink and crunches ice chips between his teeth, thinking about big fluffy white words in the sky. Which would be cool and all but Lance is probably right, Chris still wouldn’t get it, plus, you know, far too visible for who they are.
“I don’t know why you don’t just say something.” Lance smiles at the waiter one last time and settles back in his chair, totally relaxed. He looks like he belongs on this patio, as if he was born to sit in the sunshine, cross-legged under a red umbrella, with cool drinks and people to wait on him. “You should tell him you’re lusting after his hot ass, then you could move on if he turns you down flat.”
“Who says he’s going to turn me down?” JC takes another sip of his drink, smiling around the rim. “And like I said, I’m in no hurry. It’s not like I’m doing without.” He smiles more at Lance’s snort; neither of them have room to comment about playing around.
Comfortable silence falls between them then as the waiter delivers Lance’s drink, while JC runs his finger across his glass, creating wavy lines and crosses through the condensation as he watches the world walk by.
“I hope the reality is as good as the chase,” Lance remarks suddenly, and JC, skilled in unspoken words and protective band-mates, hears the warning.
“I’m sure it will. I’ll make sure it will.” He says slowly and knows Lance understands when he nods slightly and smiles.
Lance holds up his drink and the sunlight glints against the glass “To the chase, and to Chris catching a clue.”
~*~*~*~
Technically, it’s afternoon, but morning is a fluid thing, always there when Chris first opens his eyes. Bleary eyed and sagging with sleep he sits at the kitchen table, one fist propped under his chin as he listlessly chases cereal around the bowl with his spoon. Waves of milk slop onto the table leaving small pools of white against shining wood. The list of things he ought to be doing is pretty long, but what he’s actually planning is laundry and calling some friends – the important shit.
He can see his answer machine flashing urgently and remembers ring tones streaking across his dreams, wisps of sound that he should follow back to wakefulness but almost never does. It’s only when his bowl is empty and his coffee mug has been refilled that he listens to his messages. He digs out his cell, dialling voicemail and listening to both at once, so Justin talks over JC who talks over his mom; a tangle of voices that fill the room.
Practice makes it easy to sort through the messages, and Chris quickly notes times and dates on the pad next to the phone. Three days and they’re meeting at Justin’s, which is too soon. Far too soon.
Not that he’s got the option of refusing. Even if it’s an unspoken rule, attendance is mandatory and Chris knows he has to suck it up and attend. Which is fine, because it’s not like he doesn’t want to go. He misses being together. Phone calls and individual visits are a poor substitution for being around four of his best friends, and it’s not like he has admit the crush he’s developed for JC’s skinny ass. In fact admitting that would be the last thing he’d do. Because it’s JC, and like Chris keeps telling himself, having a crush on JC is insane.
Figures that he’s always been the crazy one.
~*~*~*~
Damp haired and wearing only tight white boxers, his necklace and a bracelet of pink beads, JC stands in the middle of his walk in closet, looking around and taking in the clothes that surround him. An open bag is collapsed at his feet and all he has to do is decide what to pack, and he does know, mostly. T-shirts and packs of underwear, shoes and flip-flops, jeans and shorts; casual stuff, perfect for a weekend away. Except he can’t decide if he should pack the leather pants that hug his legs like a second skin, or the shorts that are more holes than material, and maybe the shirt that’s never let him down, fitted and silken to the touch. He loves those clothes but they’re not barbeque clothes, not at all.
It would be silly to take them really, and it’s not like Chris would even notice, but still…. With a quick movement, JC pulls them from the rails. Chris won’t know what hit him.
~*~*~*~
Body still on morning autopilot, it takes Chris five minutes to pack. He gathers t-shirts and shorts, shoes, socks and underwear, and throws them all casually into a bag. Jewellery next; ball necklaces and rings, earrings and crosses, gleaming against velvet and dull leather in the monogrammed holder that Lance gave him two Christmasses ago.
When his thoughts skitter towards JC he quickly reigns them in, always wary of the potential danger. Because thoughts of JC turn into thoughts of crinkled eyes, glossy hair and a beaming smile. Which is fine, except they inevitably lead to follow-on thoughts of long legs, elegant fingers and pants over a firm ass, which isn’t fine at all.
Chris knows how his mind works and in this case it’s better to nip things in the bud. Concentrating on singing along to the music that fills the room. Taking comfort in familiar words and melodies that ease the prickle of thisiswrong that haunts his mind.
~*~*~*~
JC likes Justin’s LA home. He enjoys the way the rooms echo with happy memories, changing it from a show house into a home. Not that he’s been there often, because he hasn’t. Touring and recording make visiting an occasional thing, but each time he steps through the door things feel right, just like now.
Weighed down with bags, he opens the door with one hand then uses his hip to bump it closed. Stepping from glaring sunshine into the coolness inside makes him shiver a little, his skin goosebumping as he drops his bags to the polished floor. Rubbing his arms, he looks around and takes in the changes. The new picture on the wall, the aquarium filled with colourful fish, which dart through streams of bubbles and the basketball that lies in the middle of the floor.
He grins, bracing himself when Justin runs into view, looking good in a t-shirt and shorts. His sneakers squeak against the floor. He engulfs JC in a hug, all sun-warm skin, sharp chin and big grabby hands.
“You should have called, I’d have picked you up,” Justin says when the hug ends. “Or I’d send someone to pick you up anyway.”
He looks faintly embarrassed at that but JC understands. Airports aren’t the best of places for boybanders to hang out, especially not boybanders like Justin Timberlake.
“No man, it’s all good. Lonnie dropped me off. We flew in together, got looked after by the sweetest mama too.” JC grins at Justin as he remembers the attendant with legs that never stopped and a shirt that did nothing to hide her ample charms.
“Was she good?” Justin asks, fully aware of the occasional fumbles in locked toilets that break up long flights, and he elbows JC as they walk toward the back of the house.
“I didn’t go there,” JC admits as Justin makes a noise of disbelief. “I couldn’t, not when I was coming here, and you know….” JC looks at Justin hoping he understands and he seems to. In fact, he gets this look of sympathy that makes JC’s belly tighten and wish desperately he’d never said a word and hope for an interruption, any interruption. But life is never fair and Justin lays a hand on JC’s shoulder and keeps it there, heavy and ominous as he speaks.
“I know, man. I’ve got eyes.” He bites at his lower lip then, forehead creased in a frown. “Not that I’m against this, because I’m not. But don’t you think he’d have said something by now if he was interested?”
JC can feel Justin’s concern settle around him and he both welcomes it and wants to shake it away, because Justin should know this, he knows Chris, including his faults and blind spots “It’s Chris, what do you think?” JC watches, willing Justin to get it.
“I think he’s an idiot about some things,” Justin says slowly, tightening his grip on JC’s shoulder. “Including things he wants but thinks he doesn’t deserve.” Justin’s mouth curls down and he looks away then turns back to JC. “If you can change his mind on that, great. I approve.”
“Like I need your approval.” JC bumps Justin with his elbow, saying thank you in his own way. It’s true he doesn’t need Justin’s approval, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.
~*~*~*~
If Chris believed in slushy words and feelings he’d say his world shone brighter when JC walked onto the patio, but as he doesn’t he put down the sudden burst of heat to the scorching sun overhead. JC looks good, cool and smiling in capris and t-shirt, his hair styled in that pitiful hybrid Mohawk that’ll be flat against his head within minutes; an inevitable casualty in the skirmish between styling products and the compulsory hair ruffle of affectionate greeting.
From his boneless position on one of Justin’s ultra comfortable padded recliners, Chris watches Lance and Joey stand, greeting JC with hugs, backslaps and a flurry of words. It’s an interesting view from this position, and Chris can’t help looking up the curved line of Lance’s calf to the shadows of his shorts, the way Joey’s hairy leg is pressed against JC’s and the casual way they touch, easy and secure in the tight three-way hug.
Chris smiles at the sight, then frowns when he sees Justin watching him, expression clearly saying ‘get up and say hello you ass’, which he does, hauling himself to his feet. He approaches slowly, focussing on JC’s dorky hair and lets his eyes sweep down to the toe ring that sparkles against nails that are surely pinker than they should be. Which should shoot JC’s dork factor even higher, and it does, except it seems Chris have a thing for dorks now. Especially ones that latch onto him like a limpet, pulling him into the circle of arms and holding on while Chris struggles and wiggles before eventually giving in, relaxing in his hold.
It’s no surprise when the hug shifts. Joey’s arm snaking around Chris’ waist, tickling heat that has to be Lance’s breath against his neck as Justin leans into them all, taking his rightful place as they stand and just be.
“I’ve missed you,” JC whispers, the words a burning heat against Chris' already hot skin.
“Me too,” Chris says, unable to lie. JC tightens his hold, squishing them even closer so Chris cheek is pressed against JC’s neck, fitting together perfectly in a way that makes Chris wants to grab on and never let go. Which is dangerous thinking, so instead he wiggles, squirming to be free. Then shivers and rubs at his arms when he finally escapes, the heat of JC’s touch slowly fading away.
“Now that all you losers are here we can finally eat.” Justin explodes into action when the hug fully breaks, issuing orders over his shoulder as he heads back into the house. “Lance, start up the grill. Joey, watch him, I don’t want a repeat of the great fire disaster of 03.”
“Oh hey now,” Lance cuts in. “That wasn’t my fault.” He shakes his head, a smile twisting at the corners of his mouth as Justin stops dead.
“Not your fault? You set fire to my tree.” Justin frowns. “I liked that tree.”
“It was too close to the grill.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, what was my gardener thinking planting it that close? Oh wait. Maybe he didn’t expect a giant fireball to shoot around the place.” Justin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I’ll start the grill, you get the drinks.”
He turns direction abruptly. “There’s meat in the fridge, Chris you bring that out. JC, salads and stuff is in there too, don’t forget the dressings. Joey, get everything else.”
Chris shakes his head as he watches Justin walk past the pool to the grill. “We really should protest J ordering us around - try and pretend we have some pride, at least.
“You say that as if we had any to begin with,” Joey says mournfully, as they head off to do their tasks like the bunch of well-trained idiots that they are.
“Pussy whipped by Justin Timberlake, if I’d known what I did now back then….”
“You would have still acted the same.” JC leans over Chris, chin resting on his shoulder as they peer into the fridge.
“Not necessarily.” Chris protests, using words to distract from the feel of JC plastered against his back, body heavy and smelling like a combination of travel and sunshine. Where they touch feels like fire, in contrast to his chest and arms, cold from being practically in Justin’s giant fridge. “I could have… that is.” He scratches at his cheek where JC’s hair rests against it, irritating and prickly then grabs a plate of steaks wrapped in film, trying to ignore JC’s annoying laugh as he searches for what to say, because fact is he wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Justin did grow into a demanding bossy idiot, he’s one who Chris loves a lot, so there you go.
He stands and JC clings on, turning with him. Chris tips back his head so he can see, and oh, that’s a bad idea. Now he’s a perfect view of JC’s neck and the hollow under his chin, skin dark with stubble, and all Chris wants to do is lick. So he concentrates on other safe thoughts, like how JC’s nose looks huge from this angle and his nostrils, so black and round.
“I think I can see your brain.”
JC grins, mouth stretching wide under that huge nose. “At least I have one.”
“Nice one.” Chris licks his finger and marks the air, appreciating the comeback. “Now let go so I can get this to his lordship.”
JC does as Chris asks, stepping back and sliding his hands across Chris’s side one last time. Chris melts into the touch, shivering as the sensation against his sweat damp back, then makes himself walk away, knowing he’s approaching his limit in terms of JC exposure, which means he’s only one-step away from declaring his devotion by dropping to his knees and nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin of JC’s belly.
“It’s JC, we’re friends, I don’t want him that way.” Chris repeats the words softly to himself, the lie floating away to mingle with the scent of smoke in the hot summer air.
~*~*~*~
Sleepy and full still, JC lies back on the recliner, head tipped to the sun. Everything feels soft and hazy now, laughter and vivid voices replaced by bird song and the hiss of cooling coals. It’s the perfect time to stretch out and relax, but JC can’t control the thoughts that lazily circle his mind.
JC hadn’t been lying when he’d told Lance he could wait. He was a grown-up after all, used to waiting for what he wanted. The problem is that the waiting is stretching his patience to breaking point, especially now, when Chris is so close.
Sometimes, JC thinks it would be better to forget the whole thing. Finally put a lid on the years of crushing and file the whole thing away as something else that’ll never happen. Except that’s impossible because Chris is Chris. Utterly unforgettable.
Allowing himself a frustrated sigh, JC slides back further, arms hugging his bent knees as he watches Justin and Chris sneak toward Joey, who’s standing looking at the pool. JC doesn’t doubt Joey knows they’re coming; it’s not like they’re being silent as they tip-toe across the tiles.
When Justin and Chris, perfectly synchronised after years of similar moves, shatter the silence with piercing yells and surge forward, Joey steps neatly aside, arms aloft in victory, and they go barrelling into the water with a giant splash.
“It takes more than that to get the great Fatone!” Joey celebrates, laughing and dancing in place as Justin and Chris protest by trying to soak him, splashing water that shines like tiny jewels. Only JC sees Lance stand, unfolding from his chair smooth and silent as he stalks to the poolside.
“Hey, Joe,” Lance says as Joey turns. “There’s only one great man in this place, and it isn’t you.”
He places his hand on Joey’s chest, grinning wide, and pushes. Joey falls back, arms clawing uselessly at the air.
He surfaces next to a catcalling Justin and Chris and within seconds they’re play fighting, water and yelling filling the air as Lance steps back, arms folded and laughing, seemingly satisfied with a job well done.
JC admires his nerve in remaining so close, knowing that loyalties will shift soon to three against one. It’s just how it is, fluid alliances that change within the blink of an eye.
A seemingly insignificant look and JC leans forward knowing that things are about to change. Lance knows it too as he laughs, deep and low, and hurries to take refuge behind JC.
“Man no. You’re not using me as a shield.” The protest is lame, holding no heat at all.
“You’re my friend, protect me.” Lance crouches down, hands on JC’s shoulders, his laughter a rumble in JC’s ear.
JC looks toward the pool where Joey, Justin and Chris whisper together, heads close and obviously ready to climb out and charge. “I don’t think so.” He scrambles to his feet, ignoring Lance’s fingers biting into his skin as he twists free and runs, knowing he’s grouped with Lance now, and fair game for his friends who’re climbing from the pool.
Years of practice let JC slip past hands that grab for his arm as he dodges past trees and hurdles chairs all the time aware of the chasers close behind. He flees across the lawn, bare feet sinking into springy turf and circles the hot tub, laughing out loud when he sees Lance trapped between Justin and Joey. Hands outstretched and pleading with a smile before they all go down in a tangle of limbs.
JC stills then, listening and looking around, knowing that Chris is close. He can sense him, a brush of feeling across his skin that broadcast louder than any noise. JC looks around, feet circling on the hot tiles, and there he is, half hidden behind a tree, grin wide and eyes gleaming.
“I didn’t do anything, man.” JC protests despite knowing it’s futile. Things have gone too far now and honour has to be avenged.
For a moment Chris doesn’t do anything, just stands and stares. Then he moves forward, movement liquid, and JC is frozen, unable to look away as Chris gets closer. The air around him is practically shimmering with energy, crackling over his soaked clothes and slicked back hair.
He pounces with a yell and JC remembers how to run, turning to flee as his heart tries to beat out of his chest, but it’s too late and he knows it. He’s not surprised when arms wrap around his waist and he’s falling through the air, hitting the water with a skin stinging splash. Everything is confusion as they sink, bubbles sliding past JC’s skin, his ears ringing with thunderous sound as he opens his eyes wide, watching streaming hair and pale arms as they struggle upright, sucking in air with an audible gasp as they surface back into the day.
“You’re a freak, man.” JC grabs as much hair as he can, wringing out the water. “I only got this shirt last week.”
“You and every other guest at that event.” Chris reaches out and grabs the hem of JC’s shirt, squeezing the material between his fingers. “Buy another one, you can afford it.”
“It’s not the same.”
Chris looks up then, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a dork.” He wipes his hand across his face and through his hair before shaking his head, water showering outwards in glistening arcs. Visually it’s a stunning image and JC can’t help capturing it in his mind, the droplets, the sunshine, the wet slick of Chris’ skin and the dark of his hair.
“You’re staring.”
Embarrassed, JC looks away, then back again when Chris touches his arm.
“I think we need to talk.”
~*~*~*~
As usual Chris’ mouth works faster than his brain and he wants to bite back the words. It’s too late though. He’s committed now, so Chris squares his shoulders and heads for the shallow end of the pool, where they stand side by side, hands brushing together under the surface.
Chris looks down into the water, concentrating on his toes as he tries to think what to say. “I’m, that is….” It’s impossible to find the words, they slip from his brain leaving him floundering, and that sucks. Chris has built his life on words and to have them desert him now leaves him frustrated and unsure, especially when JC is staring, all dark spiky eye-lashes and big blue eyes.
“Is this what you want to say?” JC turns, his hand against Chris’ back as he bends for a kiss, gentle like a summer breeze.
It’s over far too soon, and, fingers held to his lips, Chris looks at JC. Dorky familiar JC, with his hair plastered to his head, free shirt clinging to his body and patient as always as he waits. Which is good, because Chris needs to take a moment just to breathe. His world shifts around him, finally clicking into place and the itch of wrongness is swept away.
“Are you coming onto me, Chasez?” Chris can’t help teasing now, delighted when JC leans in close.
“I am,” JC says, and he turns fully now, both hands resting on Chris’ waist. “You complaining?”
“Hell, no.” Chris looks up, squinting up at JC who burns brightly, outlined in sunshine as he bends close once more.
“Good,” JC says, soft and low. “Because I’m not stopping now.”
Chris shivers, both from the words and sensation as JC presses close, crowding with his body until Chris’ skin is shivering with sparks of pleasure from each individual touch. Hands pressed under his shirt, legs pressed against his own as JC licks and bites from neck to mouth, following with hard kisses that leave Chris panting and needing more.
“I just had the pool cleaned yesterday.”
Chris ignores Justin, the words nothing but background noise as he tilts his head so JC can bite at his neck.
“If you come in my pool you’re gonna clean it. I mean it.”
They both look up then, and Chris can’t help laughing when he sees Joey and Lance watching as well. The heat of Justin’s words a total contrast to his smile.
“I’m good at cleaning pools,” JC says, winking at Chris as Justin throws up his hands, hamming it up as Lance and Joey usher him away.
As soon as they’re alone Chris turns to JC and looks, at his damp swollen lips and the way his hair curls against his neck. At his fingers, crinkled against Chris’ own, but mostly his smile, so familiar as he bends to whisper.
“If I’m cleaning this thing I’m gonna make it worth my while.”
Chris has no problems with that at all. Especially when JC hums happily as he explores, because JC’s a dork like that. Which is fine, because that’s how Chris loves him.
ninjetti75's birthday, so like I said in the subject. Happy (late) birthday, Josh! I'd write you an epic if I could. As I can't I hope you enjoy this, trickc of course.Thanks go as usual to
ephemera_pop who beta read and rightfully gave me the beta slap of doom for dropping into fanon not once but twice.If he had any sense at all, Chris should have fallen for JC back in the day, when he was young and stupid and could have used that as a valid excuse, but he hadn’t, he’d remained immune to JC’s considerable charms. Years of friendship later, when the stupid is still valid but the young is more or less gone, that immunity has started to crumble, and all Chris can do is patch the gaps and convince himself that he really doesn’t think of JC that way. Except, he really kind of does.
Not that it’s a bad thing as such. JC’s hot and Chris likes him, a lot, and availability isn’t an issue either. At least it wasn’t the last time they spoke, which was like, three hours ago now. Chris had lain on his bed, phone pressed against his ear, bare feet brushing restlessly against his sheets as they talked.
It’s just. It’s JC. Dorky, rambling, idiotic, lame, gorgeous JC, and Chris knows he’s lost before he’s even started.
~*~*~*~
“Whoever you are, it better be important.” Chris tries to sound threatening but it’s hard when you’re half asleep. He flops on his back, cell phone held against his ear and squints into the darkness, hating the world and the inconsiderate people who think that calling in the middle of the night is okay.
“This is important.”
JC sounds happy, his voice sunshine and light against the darkness of the room and Chris relaxes at the sound.
“At least, I think it’s important, if you don’t, sorry.”
JC doesn’t sound sorry for waking him at all.
“It’s just, I forgot to say before. Justin wants us to get together soon. Some kind of barbeque I think. You need to come.”
JC stops talking and Chris listens to the faint thump of music over the open line, the beat providing a backdrop to the memory of hundreds of barbeques they’ve attended over the years. From blackened sausages served on paper plates to elaborate kebabs cooked on gleaming grills; years worth of food enjoyed with the company of his friends. “I hate you, send me the details” he says suddenly and ends the call, cutting off JC’s reply.
Seconds later and Chris is asleep once more, curled up in cool sheets and blanketed by dreams of JC that he’ll never admit.
~*~*~*~
“I’m just saying, you’ve been dropping hints for almost a year now.”
“So?” JC avoids Lance’s look, and reaches for his drink, curling his fingers around the long cool glass. “I can be patient; he’ll catch on one day.”
“You spent Thanksgiving together with your parents and he still didn’t catch on. Face it, you could hire a plane to write “JC loves Chris” across the sky and he still wouldn’t get it.” Lance looks at his own glass and signals the waiter with a casual flick of the wrist and smile. “Same again please. JC?”
“I’m good, thanks.” JC sips at his drink and crunches ice chips between his teeth, thinking about big fluffy white words in the sky. Which would be cool and all but Lance is probably right, Chris still wouldn’t get it, plus, you know, far too visible for who they are.
“I don’t know why you don’t just say something.” Lance smiles at the waiter one last time and settles back in his chair, totally relaxed. He looks like he belongs on this patio, as if he was born to sit in the sunshine, cross-legged under a red umbrella, with cool drinks and people to wait on him. “You should tell him you’re lusting after his hot ass, then you could move on if he turns you down flat.”
“Who says he’s going to turn me down?” JC takes another sip of his drink, smiling around the rim. “And like I said, I’m in no hurry. It’s not like I’m doing without.” He smiles more at Lance’s snort; neither of them have room to comment about playing around.
Comfortable silence falls between them then as the waiter delivers Lance’s drink, while JC runs his finger across his glass, creating wavy lines and crosses through the condensation as he watches the world walk by.
“I hope the reality is as good as the chase,” Lance remarks suddenly, and JC, skilled in unspoken words and protective band-mates, hears the warning.
“I’m sure it will. I’ll make sure it will.” He says slowly and knows Lance understands when he nods slightly and smiles.
Lance holds up his drink and the sunlight glints against the glass “To the chase, and to Chris catching a clue.”
~*~*~*~
Technically, it’s afternoon, but morning is a fluid thing, always there when Chris first opens his eyes. Bleary eyed and sagging with sleep he sits at the kitchen table, one fist propped under his chin as he listlessly chases cereal around the bowl with his spoon. Waves of milk slop onto the table leaving small pools of white against shining wood. The list of things he ought to be doing is pretty long, but what he’s actually planning is laundry and calling some friends – the important shit.
He can see his answer machine flashing urgently and remembers ring tones streaking across his dreams, wisps of sound that he should follow back to wakefulness but almost never does. It’s only when his bowl is empty and his coffee mug has been refilled that he listens to his messages. He digs out his cell, dialling voicemail and listening to both at once, so Justin talks over JC who talks over his mom; a tangle of voices that fill the room.
Practice makes it easy to sort through the messages, and Chris quickly notes times and dates on the pad next to the phone. Three days and they’re meeting at Justin’s, which is too soon. Far too soon.
Not that he’s got the option of refusing. Even if it’s an unspoken rule, attendance is mandatory and Chris knows he has to suck it up and attend. Which is fine, because it’s not like he doesn’t want to go. He misses being together. Phone calls and individual visits are a poor substitution for being around four of his best friends, and it’s not like he has admit the crush he’s developed for JC’s skinny ass. In fact admitting that would be the last thing he’d do. Because it’s JC, and like Chris keeps telling himself, having a crush on JC is insane.
Figures that he’s always been the crazy one.
~*~*~*~
Damp haired and wearing only tight white boxers, his necklace and a bracelet of pink beads, JC stands in the middle of his walk in closet, looking around and taking in the clothes that surround him. An open bag is collapsed at his feet and all he has to do is decide what to pack, and he does know, mostly. T-shirts and packs of underwear, shoes and flip-flops, jeans and shorts; casual stuff, perfect for a weekend away. Except he can’t decide if he should pack the leather pants that hug his legs like a second skin, or the shorts that are more holes than material, and maybe the shirt that’s never let him down, fitted and silken to the touch. He loves those clothes but they’re not barbeque clothes, not at all.
It would be silly to take them really, and it’s not like Chris would even notice, but still…. With a quick movement, JC pulls them from the rails. Chris won’t know what hit him.
~*~*~*~
Body still on morning autopilot, it takes Chris five minutes to pack. He gathers t-shirts and shorts, shoes, socks and underwear, and throws them all casually into a bag. Jewellery next; ball necklaces and rings, earrings and crosses, gleaming against velvet and dull leather in the monogrammed holder that Lance gave him two Christmasses ago.
When his thoughts skitter towards JC he quickly reigns them in, always wary of the potential danger. Because thoughts of JC turn into thoughts of crinkled eyes, glossy hair and a beaming smile. Which is fine, except they inevitably lead to follow-on thoughts of long legs, elegant fingers and pants over a firm ass, which isn’t fine at all.
Chris knows how his mind works and in this case it’s better to nip things in the bud. Concentrating on singing along to the music that fills the room. Taking comfort in familiar words and melodies that ease the prickle of thisiswrong that haunts his mind.
~*~*~*~
JC likes Justin’s LA home. He enjoys the way the rooms echo with happy memories, changing it from a show house into a home. Not that he’s been there often, because he hasn’t. Touring and recording make visiting an occasional thing, but each time he steps through the door things feel right, just like now.
Weighed down with bags, he opens the door with one hand then uses his hip to bump it closed. Stepping from glaring sunshine into the coolness inside makes him shiver a little, his skin goosebumping as he drops his bags to the polished floor. Rubbing his arms, he looks around and takes in the changes. The new picture on the wall, the aquarium filled with colourful fish, which dart through streams of bubbles and the basketball that lies in the middle of the floor.
He grins, bracing himself when Justin runs into view, looking good in a t-shirt and shorts. His sneakers squeak against the floor. He engulfs JC in a hug, all sun-warm skin, sharp chin and big grabby hands.
“You should have called, I’d have picked you up,” Justin says when the hug ends. “Or I’d send someone to pick you up anyway.”
He looks faintly embarrassed at that but JC understands. Airports aren’t the best of places for boybanders to hang out, especially not boybanders like Justin Timberlake.
“No man, it’s all good. Lonnie dropped me off. We flew in together, got looked after by the sweetest mama too.” JC grins at Justin as he remembers the attendant with legs that never stopped and a shirt that did nothing to hide her ample charms.
“Was she good?” Justin asks, fully aware of the occasional fumbles in locked toilets that break up long flights, and he elbows JC as they walk toward the back of the house.
“I didn’t go there,” JC admits as Justin makes a noise of disbelief. “I couldn’t, not when I was coming here, and you know….” JC looks at Justin hoping he understands and he seems to. In fact, he gets this look of sympathy that makes JC’s belly tighten and wish desperately he’d never said a word and hope for an interruption, any interruption. But life is never fair and Justin lays a hand on JC’s shoulder and keeps it there, heavy and ominous as he speaks.
“I know, man. I’ve got eyes.” He bites at his lower lip then, forehead creased in a frown. “Not that I’m against this, because I’m not. But don’t you think he’d have said something by now if he was interested?”
JC can feel Justin’s concern settle around him and he both welcomes it and wants to shake it away, because Justin should know this, he knows Chris, including his faults and blind spots “It’s Chris, what do you think?” JC watches, willing Justin to get it.
“I think he’s an idiot about some things,” Justin says slowly, tightening his grip on JC’s shoulder. “Including things he wants but thinks he doesn’t deserve.” Justin’s mouth curls down and he looks away then turns back to JC. “If you can change his mind on that, great. I approve.”
“Like I need your approval.” JC bumps Justin with his elbow, saying thank you in his own way. It’s true he doesn’t need Justin’s approval, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.
~*~*~*~
If Chris believed in slushy words and feelings he’d say his world shone brighter when JC walked onto the patio, but as he doesn’t he put down the sudden burst of heat to the scorching sun overhead. JC looks good, cool and smiling in capris and t-shirt, his hair styled in that pitiful hybrid Mohawk that’ll be flat against his head within minutes; an inevitable casualty in the skirmish between styling products and the compulsory hair ruffle of affectionate greeting.
From his boneless position on one of Justin’s ultra comfortable padded recliners, Chris watches Lance and Joey stand, greeting JC with hugs, backslaps and a flurry of words. It’s an interesting view from this position, and Chris can’t help looking up the curved line of Lance’s calf to the shadows of his shorts, the way Joey’s hairy leg is pressed against JC’s and the casual way they touch, easy and secure in the tight three-way hug.
Chris smiles at the sight, then frowns when he sees Justin watching him, expression clearly saying ‘get up and say hello you ass’, which he does, hauling himself to his feet. He approaches slowly, focussing on JC’s dorky hair and lets his eyes sweep down to the toe ring that sparkles against nails that are surely pinker than they should be. Which should shoot JC’s dork factor even higher, and it does, except it seems Chris have a thing for dorks now. Especially ones that latch onto him like a limpet, pulling him into the circle of arms and holding on while Chris struggles and wiggles before eventually giving in, relaxing in his hold.
It’s no surprise when the hug shifts. Joey’s arm snaking around Chris’ waist, tickling heat that has to be Lance’s breath against his neck as Justin leans into them all, taking his rightful place as they stand and just be.
“I’ve missed you,” JC whispers, the words a burning heat against Chris' already hot skin.
“Me too,” Chris says, unable to lie. JC tightens his hold, squishing them even closer so Chris cheek is pressed against JC’s neck, fitting together perfectly in a way that makes Chris wants to grab on and never let go. Which is dangerous thinking, so instead he wiggles, squirming to be free. Then shivers and rubs at his arms when he finally escapes, the heat of JC’s touch slowly fading away.
“Now that all you losers are here we can finally eat.” Justin explodes into action when the hug fully breaks, issuing orders over his shoulder as he heads back into the house. “Lance, start up the grill. Joey, watch him, I don’t want a repeat of the great fire disaster of 03.”
“Oh hey now,” Lance cuts in. “That wasn’t my fault.” He shakes his head, a smile twisting at the corners of his mouth as Justin stops dead.
“Not your fault? You set fire to my tree.” Justin frowns. “I liked that tree.”
“It was too close to the grill.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, what was my gardener thinking planting it that close? Oh wait. Maybe he didn’t expect a giant fireball to shoot around the place.” Justin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I’ll start the grill, you get the drinks.”
He turns direction abruptly. “There’s meat in the fridge, Chris you bring that out. JC, salads and stuff is in there too, don’t forget the dressings. Joey, get everything else.”
Chris shakes his head as he watches Justin walk past the pool to the grill. “We really should protest J ordering us around - try and pretend we have some pride, at least.
“You say that as if we had any to begin with,” Joey says mournfully, as they head off to do their tasks like the bunch of well-trained idiots that they are.
“Pussy whipped by Justin Timberlake, if I’d known what I did now back then….”
“You would have still acted the same.” JC leans over Chris, chin resting on his shoulder as they peer into the fridge.
“Not necessarily.” Chris protests, using words to distract from the feel of JC plastered against his back, body heavy and smelling like a combination of travel and sunshine. Where they touch feels like fire, in contrast to his chest and arms, cold from being practically in Justin’s giant fridge. “I could have… that is.” He scratches at his cheek where JC’s hair rests against it, irritating and prickly then grabs a plate of steaks wrapped in film, trying to ignore JC’s annoying laugh as he searches for what to say, because fact is he wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Justin did grow into a demanding bossy idiot, he’s one who Chris loves a lot, so there you go.
He stands and JC clings on, turning with him. Chris tips back his head so he can see, and oh, that’s a bad idea. Now he’s a perfect view of JC’s neck and the hollow under his chin, skin dark with stubble, and all Chris wants to do is lick. So he concentrates on other safe thoughts, like how JC’s nose looks huge from this angle and his nostrils, so black and round.
“I think I can see your brain.”
JC grins, mouth stretching wide under that huge nose. “At least I have one.”
“Nice one.” Chris licks his finger and marks the air, appreciating the comeback. “Now let go so I can get this to his lordship.”
JC does as Chris asks, stepping back and sliding his hands across Chris’s side one last time. Chris melts into the touch, shivering as the sensation against his sweat damp back, then makes himself walk away, knowing he’s approaching his limit in terms of JC exposure, which means he’s only one-step away from declaring his devotion by dropping to his knees and nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin of JC’s belly.
“It’s JC, we’re friends, I don’t want him that way.” Chris repeats the words softly to himself, the lie floating away to mingle with the scent of smoke in the hot summer air.
~*~*~*~
Sleepy and full still, JC lies back on the recliner, head tipped to the sun. Everything feels soft and hazy now, laughter and vivid voices replaced by bird song and the hiss of cooling coals. It’s the perfect time to stretch out and relax, but JC can’t control the thoughts that lazily circle his mind.
JC hadn’t been lying when he’d told Lance he could wait. He was a grown-up after all, used to waiting for what he wanted. The problem is that the waiting is stretching his patience to breaking point, especially now, when Chris is so close.
Sometimes, JC thinks it would be better to forget the whole thing. Finally put a lid on the years of crushing and file the whole thing away as something else that’ll never happen. Except that’s impossible because Chris is Chris. Utterly unforgettable.
Allowing himself a frustrated sigh, JC slides back further, arms hugging his bent knees as he watches Justin and Chris sneak toward Joey, who’s standing looking at the pool. JC doesn’t doubt Joey knows they’re coming; it’s not like they’re being silent as they tip-toe across the tiles.
When Justin and Chris, perfectly synchronised after years of similar moves, shatter the silence with piercing yells and surge forward, Joey steps neatly aside, arms aloft in victory, and they go barrelling into the water with a giant splash.
“It takes more than that to get the great Fatone!” Joey celebrates, laughing and dancing in place as Justin and Chris protest by trying to soak him, splashing water that shines like tiny jewels. Only JC sees Lance stand, unfolding from his chair smooth and silent as he stalks to the poolside.
“Hey, Joe,” Lance says as Joey turns. “There’s only one great man in this place, and it isn’t you.”
He places his hand on Joey’s chest, grinning wide, and pushes. Joey falls back, arms clawing uselessly at the air.
He surfaces next to a catcalling Justin and Chris and within seconds they’re play fighting, water and yelling filling the air as Lance steps back, arms folded and laughing, seemingly satisfied with a job well done.
JC admires his nerve in remaining so close, knowing that loyalties will shift soon to three against one. It’s just how it is, fluid alliances that change within the blink of an eye.
A seemingly insignificant look and JC leans forward knowing that things are about to change. Lance knows it too as he laughs, deep and low, and hurries to take refuge behind JC.
“Man no. You’re not using me as a shield.” The protest is lame, holding no heat at all.
“You’re my friend, protect me.” Lance crouches down, hands on JC’s shoulders, his laughter a rumble in JC’s ear.
JC looks toward the pool where Joey, Justin and Chris whisper together, heads close and obviously ready to climb out and charge. “I don’t think so.” He scrambles to his feet, ignoring Lance’s fingers biting into his skin as he twists free and runs, knowing he’s grouped with Lance now, and fair game for his friends who’re climbing from the pool.
Years of practice let JC slip past hands that grab for his arm as he dodges past trees and hurdles chairs all the time aware of the chasers close behind. He flees across the lawn, bare feet sinking into springy turf and circles the hot tub, laughing out loud when he sees Lance trapped between Justin and Joey. Hands outstretched and pleading with a smile before they all go down in a tangle of limbs.
JC stills then, listening and looking around, knowing that Chris is close. He can sense him, a brush of feeling across his skin that broadcast louder than any noise. JC looks around, feet circling on the hot tiles, and there he is, half hidden behind a tree, grin wide and eyes gleaming.
“I didn’t do anything, man.” JC protests despite knowing it’s futile. Things have gone too far now and honour has to be avenged.
For a moment Chris doesn’t do anything, just stands and stares. Then he moves forward, movement liquid, and JC is frozen, unable to look away as Chris gets closer. The air around him is practically shimmering with energy, crackling over his soaked clothes and slicked back hair.
He pounces with a yell and JC remembers how to run, turning to flee as his heart tries to beat out of his chest, but it’s too late and he knows it. He’s not surprised when arms wrap around his waist and he’s falling through the air, hitting the water with a skin stinging splash. Everything is confusion as they sink, bubbles sliding past JC’s skin, his ears ringing with thunderous sound as he opens his eyes wide, watching streaming hair and pale arms as they struggle upright, sucking in air with an audible gasp as they surface back into the day.
“You’re a freak, man.” JC grabs as much hair as he can, wringing out the water. “I only got this shirt last week.”
“You and every other guest at that event.” Chris reaches out and grabs the hem of JC’s shirt, squeezing the material between his fingers. “Buy another one, you can afford it.”
“It’s not the same.”
Chris looks up then, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a dork.” He wipes his hand across his face and through his hair before shaking his head, water showering outwards in glistening arcs. Visually it’s a stunning image and JC can’t help capturing it in his mind, the droplets, the sunshine, the wet slick of Chris’ skin and the dark of his hair.
“You’re staring.”
Embarrassed, JC looks away, then back again when Chris touches his arm.
“I think we need to talk.”
~*~*~*~
As usual Chris’ mouth works faster than his brain and he wants to bite back the words. It’s too late though. He’s committed now, so Chris squares his shoulders and heads for the shallow end of the pool, where they stand side by side, hands brushing together under the surface.
Chris looks down into the water, concentrating on his toes as he tries to think what to say. “I’m, that is….” It’s impossible to find the words, they slip from his brain leaving him floundering, and that sucks. Chris has built his life on words and to have them desert him now leaves him frustrated and unsure, especially when JC is staring, all dark spiky eye-lashes and big blue eyes.
“Is this what you want to say?” JC turns, his hand against Chris’ back as he bends for a kiss, gentle like a summer breeze.
It’s over far too soon, and, fingers held to his lips, Chris looks at JC. Dorky familiar JC, with his hair plastered to his head, free shirt clinging to his body and patient as always as he waits. Which is good, because Chris needs to take a moment just to breathe. His world shifts around him, finally clicking into place and the itch of wrongness is swept away.
“Are you coming onto me, Chasez?” Chris can’t help teasing now, delighted when JC leans in close.
“I am,” JC says, and he turns fully now, both hands resting on Chris’ waist. “You complaining?”
“Hell, no.” Chris looks up, squinting up at JC who burns brightly, outlined in sunshine as he bends close once more.
“Good,” JC says, soft and low. “Because I’m not stopping now.”
Chris shivers, both from the words and sensation as JC presses close, crowding with his body until Chris’ skin is shivering with sparks of pleasure from each individual touch. Hands pressed under his shirt, legs pressed against his own as JC licks and bites from neck to mouth, following with hard kisses that leave Chris panting and needing more.
“I just had the pool cleaned yesterday.”
Chris ignores Justin, the words nothing but background noise as he tilts his head so JC can bite at his neck.
“If you come in my pool you’re gonna clean it. I mean it.”
They both look up then, and Chris can’t help laughing when he sees Joey and Lance watching as well. The heat of Justin’s words a total contrast to his smile.
“I’m good at cleaning pools,” JC says, winking at Chris as Justin throws up his hands, hamming it up as Lance and Joey usher him away.
As soon as they’re alone Chris turns to JC and looks, at his damp swollen lips and the way his hair curls against his neck. At his fingers, crinkled against Chris’ own, but mostly his smile, so familiar as he bends to whisper.
“If I’m cleaning this thing I’m gonna make it worth my while.”
Chris has no problems with that at all. Especially when JC hums happily as he explores, because JC’s a dork like that. Which is fine, because that’s how Chris loves him.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-21 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-21 09:50 pm (UTC)I'm so glad that you liked it because I had fun writing it. I think A got the short end of the stick having to beta *g*