Chris Month Day 7
Feb. 7th, 2008 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsIt's Chris ficlet time again! I know, just be glad February is a short month *g*
This was supposed to be choey, but again, ended up gen. What can I say? I write what comes in my head.
All warnings apply, no beta, read at your own risk. I may actually get these tidied up and posted on my site later. I wasn't going to, but maybe.
“Joey!”
The joyful shout was unmistakable, and Joey caught a glance of a beaming smile as JC ran forward and wrapped his arms around Joey’s waist. He held tight, all wiry strength and muscle and wild curly hair.
“I see you’re back to the retro curl look,” Joey said, hugging JC close, grimacing at the resulting taste of product against his tongue.
“It’s fashion, the future going back. It’s like; reclaiming the memories of glory days and mine are in my hair. Like Sampson, except not so much with the strength and all about the musical ability. Uh, not that I lost that, not so much, but later, maybe a little, and it was better before.”
“For those not born on planet JC, that means he thinks they look hot.” Justin said, appearing from behind a black sedan. He dropped his bag, his smile wide as he pulled Joey into a hug, unmindful of JC who was trapped between.
“That’s because they do, and you know, a little room here,” JC said, and as one, Justin and Joey tightened their hold, squashing against JC until he was red-faced and laughing.
“You know, killing JC is probably a counterproductive thing to do.”
Joey looked up, and his grin stretched just that little bit wider when Lance strolled into view. He was dressed casually, baggy shorts and a faded t-shirt, the lines around his eyes deepening as he smiled.
“The tour has been promoted as an Nsync reunion.” Justin frowned, which did little when matched with the tell tale twitch of a smile. “And it would suck redoing all the promo material.”
“You can afford it. I say kill him anyway.”
Like every other stage of his life, Chris had approached middle age with a healthy dose of humour and rreverence. It was an attitude that simultaneously annoyed and endeared those around him, and Joey wasn’t surprised to see him bump fists with his driver before Chris ran forward and threw himself into the hug.
Years of experience kicked in, and Joey staggered but didn’t fall. As he stood, Chris’ arms around his waist, JC and Justin still pressed close, Joey held out his hand, beckoning Lance forward until he joined the group.
~*~*~*~
The tour was a small one, pared down over a select few dates, but still, Joey felt like his life had stepped up a pace. The performance had been stripped down, more strolling than running and jumping against walls, but still, he welcomed the rest as he perched on one of the stools.
“Come on, stop being pussies.” Justin said, suddenly loud, and he was looking at Chris, challenging him, and even without knowing the topic, Joey knew the challenge was a foregone conclusion. He could tell by the tilt of Justin’s head, the way Chris was staring up at him, determined to prove some slight. It was a situation that had led to broken thumbs and public nakedness, and Joey looked at Lance, hoping for a clue.
“Justin says we’re too old for the flips,” Lance said, and behind the calm words, there was his own core of determination, and Joey sighed as he stood.
Justin grinned. “Chris’ like, a hundred, and you’ve spent the last few years writing and standing on a stage waving a can of hairspray.”
Obviously not seeing it that way, Lance rolled up his sleeves, and Joey stepped forward, resigned to concussions and broken noses as Lance and Chris moved into the pre flip position.
“Be careful you don’t fracture your hip.” Laughing, Justin moved aside, easily brushing aside Chris’ glared response.
“Ready?” JC asked, and without for a reply, he sang the beginning of I Want You Back. Instinctively, Joey and Justin joined in, and as Joey sang the familiar words, he heard Lance and Chris singing too, softly at first, and for a moment it seemed they couldn’t do it, their actions clumsy after so many years apart. Justin had stopped laughing then, instead he was giving the song his all. They all were, and their voices sounded clear on the empty stage, the crew not even pretending not to watch, and the years slid away as Lance grabbed Chris’ hands, the trust always there.
He pulled, and Chris flipped. Technically the flip was poor, Chris landed on his ass and Lance staggered back rubbing at his wrist, but the sense of triumph was unmistakable, and Joey knew it was more about proving they could still perform than any issued challenge. He just hoped they wouldn’t do it again, his heart couldn’t take it.
Chris rolled on his side, rubbing at his tail bone. “See, infant. We can still cut it.”
Justin stood over Chris. “You realise I’m in my thirties now?” The infant thing is a little redundant.”
“Ah see, that’s where you’re wrong, because as long as you live, you’ll always be a infant to me.”
“Thank God.” Justin grinned and gently toed Chris against his thigh. “I’d rather be the cute talented mega star than the decrepit old man.”
“Well, I’d agree with one of those.” Head tilted to one side, Chris looked Justin up and down. “You need to bring me food. I’m old and decrepit and Lance broke my ass.”
“I did not.” Lance glanced up from examining his wrists. “You’ve plenty of padding on there anyway.”
“Bitch,” Chris said, his eyes shining and loving this opportunity to annoy his friends.
“Wait.” JC waved his hand in what was either an elaborate stop motion or the choreography of a hand jive champion.” Justin can’t eat yet, we’ve that phone interview thing, with that magazine. The one with the pink cover.”
“Which describes half the teen magazines out there.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Go on then. You’d better go answer that eternal question of boxers or briefs. Or in JC’s case, particularly fetching leopard-skin thongs.”
“They’re comfortable,” JC protested, pulling at the waist band of his pants. “Anyway, they’re not leopard-skin.”
“Oh, are they pink!” Voice perfectly pitched to Briahna range, Chris made a dive for JC’s foot, laughing when JC jumped, before hurrying away. “Go on. Go charm the fans, make us some money.” Waving his hand in dismissal, Chris flopped back dramatically, arms outstretched and smiling slightly as he looked up at the gangways above the stage.
Lance shook his head, his amusement obvious. “I’m going to catering, you want anything?”
“A new body.” Chris said, moving only his eyes when he looked at Lance.
“Sorry, I think they’re all out. Joey?”
“I’m good,” Joey said, and he impulsively pulled Lance into a hug, squeezing as Lance returned the gesture, his hands warm against Joey’s back, holding tight before finally letting go and hurring off stage.
“You’ve missed him.”
“As much as you can miss someone you talk to every day,” Joey said simply and moved so he could sit next to Chris. He laid down then, his hand brushing against Chris' arm. “I even missed you. Once or twice. When you weren’t at my house influencing my girls.”
“Hey, it wasn’t me that showed Bri how to put bubble mixture in your waterfall.”
Chris sounded sincere, but Joey could hear the tell-tale hint of imminent laughter, a situation that called for the patented ‘Fatone dad stern face’. “My garden was covered in suds.” Joey held the expression for a moment then his own grin slipped through. “Okay, it was kinda cool.”
“I know, she sent me the pictures,” Chris said, his eyes shining and giggles escaping despite his control. Joey loved that sound, felt himself swept up in the amusement until they were both breathless with laughter.
Finally, feeling weak, his stomach aching, Joey wiped the back of hand against his eyes. “I’m glad I said yes to this.”
“Me too.” Chris said, and tiny droplets shone in the creases of his eyes, his mouth curling up slightly as if a smile was always lurking, ready to break free. “I’m even ready for the stupid interviews. I put my best boxers on. See.”
Chris wiggled and pushed his hand under the waistband of his jeans, pulling the top of his boxers on show, and when Joey saw the material, printed with bright red chili peppers and the words hot stuff he couldn’t help laughing again. It was just that kind of day.
This was supposed to be choey, but again, ended up gen. What can I say? I write what comes in my head.
All warnings apply, no beta, read at your own risk. I may actually get these tidied up and posted on my site later. I wasn't going to, but maybe.
“Joey!”
The joyful shout was unmistakable, and Joey caught a glance of a beaming smile as JC ran forward and wrapped his arms around Joey’s waist. He held tight, all wiry strength and muscle and wild curly hair.
“I see you’re back to the retro curl look,” Joey said, hugging JC close, grimacing at the resulting taste of product against his tongue.
“It’s fashion, the future going back. It’s like; reclaiming the memories of glory days and mine are in my hair. Like Sampson, except not so much with the strength and all about the musical ability. Uh, not that I lost that, not so much, but later, maybe a little, and it was better before.”
“For those not born on planet JC, that means he thinks they look hot.” Justin said, appearing from behind a black sedan. He dropped his bag, his smile wide as he pulled Joey into a hug, unmindful of JC who was trapped between.
“That’s because they do, and you know, a little room here,” JC said, and as one, Justin and Joey tightened their hold, squashing against JC until he was red-faced and laughing.
“You know, killing JC is probably a counterproductive thing to do.”
Joey looked up, and his grin stretched just that little bit wider when Lance strolled into view. He was dressed casually, baggy shorts and a faded t-shirt, the lines around his eyes deepening as he smiled.
“The tour has been promoted as an Nsync reunion.” Justin frowned, which did little when matched with the tell tale twitch of a smile. “And it would suck redoing all the promo material.”
“You can afford it. I say kill him anyway.”
Like every other stage of his life, Chris had approached middle age with a healthy dose of humour and rreverence. It was an attitude that simultaneously annoyed and endeared those around him, and Joey wasn’t surprised to see him bump fists with his driver before Chris ran forward and threw himself into the hug.
Years of experience kicked in, and Joey staggered but didn’t fall. As he stood, Chris’ arms around his waist, JC and Justin still pressed close, Joey held out his hand, beckoning Lance forward until he joined the group.
~*~*~*~
The tour was a small one, pared down over a select few dates, but still, Joey felt like his life had stepped up a pace. The performance had been stripped down, more strolling than running and jumping against walls, but still, he welcomed the rest as he perched on one of the stools.
“Come on, stop being pussies.” Justin said, suddenly loud, and he was looking at Chris, challenging him, and even without knowing the topic, Joey knew the challenge was a foregone conclusion. He could tell by the tilt of Justin’s head, the way Chris was staring up at him, determined to prove some slight. It was a situation that had led to broken thumbs and public nakedness, and Joey looked at Lance, hoping for a clue.
“Justin says we’re too old for the flips,” Lance said, and behind the calm words, there was his own core of determination, and Joey sighed as he stood.
Justin grinned. “Chris’ like, a hundred, and you’ve spent the last few years writing and standing on a stage waving a can of hairspray.”
Obviously not seeing it that way, Lance rolled up his sleeves, and Joey stepped forward, resigned to concussions and broken noses as Lance and Chris moved into the pre flip position.
“Be careful you don’t fracture your hip.” Laughing, Justin moved aside, easily brushing aside Chris’ glared response.
“Ready?” JC asked, and without for a reply, he sang the beginning of I Want You Back. Instinctively, Joey and Justin joined in, and as Joey sang the familiar words, he heard Lance and Chris singing too, softly at first, and for a moment it seemed they couldn’t do it, their actions clumsy after so many years apart. Justin had stopped laughing then, instead he was giving the song his all. They all were, and their voices sounded clear on the empty stage, the crew not even pretending not to watch, and the years slid away as Lance grabbed Chris’ hands, the trust always there.
He pulled, and Chris flipped. Technically the flip was poor, Chris landed on his ass and Lance staggered back rubbing at his wrist, but the sense of triumph was unmistakable, and Joey knew it was more about proving they could still perform than any issued challenge. He just hoped they wouldn’t do it again, his heart couldn’t take it.
Chris rolled on his side, rubbing at his tail bone. “See, infant. We can still cut it.”
Justin stood over Chris. “You realise I’m in my thirties now?” The infant thing is a little redundant.”
“Ah see, that’s where you’re wrong, because as long as you live, you’ll always be a infant to me.”
“Thank God.” Justin grinned and gently toed Chris against his thigh. “I’d rather be the cute talented mega star than the decrepit old man.”
“Well, I’d agree with one of those.” Head tilted to one side, Chris looked Justin up and down. “You need to bring me food. I’m old and decrepit and Lance broke my ass.”
“I did not.” Lance glanced up from examining his wrists. “You’ve plenty of padding on there anyway.”
“Bitch,” Chris said, his eyes shining and loving this opportunity to annoy his friends.
“Wait.” JC waved his hand in what was either an elaborate stop motion or the choreography of a hand jive champion.” Justin can’t eat yet, we’ve that phone interview thing, with that magazine. The one with the pink cover.”
“Which describes half the teen magazines out there.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Go on then. You’d better go answer that eternal question of boxers or briefs. Or in JC’s case, particularly fetching leopard-skin thongs.”
“They’re comfortable,” JC protested, pulling at the waist band of his pants. “Anyway, they’re not leopard-skin.”
“Oh, are they pink!” Voice perfectly pitched to Briahna range, Chris made a dive for JC’s foot, laughing when JC jumped, before hurrying away. “Go on. Go charm the fans, make us some money.” Waving his hand in dismissal, Chris flopped back dramatically, arms outstretched and smiling slightly as he looked up at the gangways above the stage.
Lance shook his head, his amusement obvious. “I’m going to catering, you want anything?”
“A new body.” Chris said, moving only his eyes when he looked at Lance.
“Sorry, I think they’re all out. Joey?”
“I’m good,” Joey said, and he impulsively pulled Lance into a hug, squeezing as Lance returned the gesture, his hands warm against Joey’s back, holding tight before finally letting go and hurring off stage.
“You’ve missed him.”
“As much as you can miss someone you talk to every day,” Joey said simply and moved so he could sit next to Chris. He laid down then, his hand brushing against Chris' arm. “I even missed you. Once or twice. When you weren’t at my house influencing my girls.”
“Hey, it wasn’t me that showed Bri how to put bubble mixture in your waterfall.”
Chris sounded sincere, but Joey could hear the tell-tale hint of imminent laughter, a situation that called for the patented ‘Fatone dad stern face’. “My garden was covered in suds.” Joey held the expression for a moment then his own grin slipped through. “Okay, it was kinda cool.”
“I know, she sent me the pictures,” Chris said, his eyes shining and giggles escaping despite his control. Joey loved that sound, felt himself swept up in the amusement until they were both breathless with laughter.
Finally, feeling weak, his stomach aching, Joey wiped the back of hand against his eyes. “I’m glad I said yes to this.”
“Me too.” Chris said, and tiny droplets shone in the creases of his eyes, his mouth curling up slightly as if a smile was always lurking, ready to break free. “I’m even ready for the stupid interviews. I put my best boxers on. See.”
Chris wiggled and pushed his hand under the waistband of his jeans, pulling the top of his boxers on show, and when Joey saw the material, printed with bright red chili peppers and the words hot stuff he couldn’t help laughing again. It was just that kind of day.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-08 10:34 am (UTC)(Psst, you have a little typo there in that first paragraph. The fifth word of the second sentence should be "disappointed".)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-08 05:10 pm (UTC)Thank you! And for the typo catch too.