Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
That said, on with Season 7.
Jack
Chris and I had to knock on Joey's door for a good couple of minutes before he would finally open it. When he did he tried to close it again immediately, seeing us in the hallway, and I jammed my foot in, thankful that I was wearing tough shoes. He was pushing so hard on the door I could have lost a toe. He glanced down at my shoe, and then back up at me, his face set in his permanent unreadable scowl, the expression it settled into if he wasn't smiling.
"Go away," he said bitterly.
"No," I answered. He was bigger than me, and if he really wanted to, he could have closed the door already. "Let us in."
"Fuck off, Jack," he said, and Chris leaned up behind me.
"Let us in," Chris said.
"We just want to talk to you," I said.
"About stuff," Chris continued, and I fell into the rhythm of it immediately.
"Important stuff," I said.
"Important to us," Chris said.
"And to you," I added.
"Because you're important," Chris said.
"Important to us," I said.
"Because we care about you," Chris concluded. Joey looked like he wanted to cry.
"Joey, I can play Chip and Dale with Chris all night if we have to," I said. "Let us in, please."
He thought about it for a second, and then stepped away from the door, and Chris and I tumbled inside. Joey walked away from us, and I saw six or seven empty bottles from the minibar scattered on the coffee table in the suite. Joey stood over at the windows, not speaking, looking out at the city. While he'd kicked his shoes off, he was still dressed in what he'd worn to the party, and I wondered if he called Kelly and Bri before he started drinking. Chris caught me staring at the coffee table, and I wondered if Joey could see me in the reflection of the window.
"Do you want a drink?" Joey asked quietly. "I think there's a couple bottles left in the minibar. If you want to wait, room service is on their way up right now with some Heinekens."
"Joey," I began, not sure of what else to say.
"They'll be here any second," Joey said, not turning. "After all, if Nsync calls room service, you know they bust their asses getting up here."
Before we said anything else there was a knock at the door, and Joey walked over quickly, pulling it open so fast the waiter outside almost dropped the tray. Six green bottles of beer glittered, dripping with condensation, and Joey dropped a hundred dollar bill on the tray as he swept up the bottles in his hands, kicking the door closed with his foot as the waiter called a thank you through the door. Joey set the bottles down on the coffee table haphazardly, and then popped the top off of one. Tilting his head back, he drained most of the bottle in one long chug as Chris and I watched.
"Joe," Chris began, standing next to me. "Don't do this."
"Why not?" Joey asked. Chris swallowed, looking to me for help. I had never seen Joey like this, and was guessing that Chris hadn't, either.
"Because it won't make you feel any better," I said, crossing my arms.
"Maybe I don't want to feel better," Joey said simply, finishing the bottle. He dropped the empty onto the floor with a muffled thump, and I fought the urge to go pick it up. Under stress, I always cleaned, and Joey was making a hell of a mess. "Maybe I shouldn't feel better. Did you think of that? Do you think Justin feels better? Do you?"
"No, but at least he's not still sitting in the bathroom," I said, sitting down. Chris stayed on his feet, fidgeting back and forth from foot to foot, almost dancing.
"Great. Wonderful," Joey said, popping open another bottle. He flipped the cap onto the carpet, and my eyes followed it down. I wanted to sit on my hands. "You're so right, Jack. He's not still in the bathroom."
"Joey," I began, hearing his anger building. Maybe I wasn't the right one to head it off.
"What?" he asked, taking a long swallow. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. Justin isn't still in the bathroom. Now I know why JC loves you, Jack. It's 'cause you're so fucking brilliant."
"Stop it," Chris said sharply. "You're drunk, Joey, or getting there, and snapping at us isn't going to make you feel any better, either. Jack and I just want to help you."
"Like I helped Justin?" Joey asked. "Like I took everything that he's afraid of, like I took the worst fucking thing that ever happened to him, and used it to bully him into doing what we wanted him to? Is that the kind of help my friends want to give me? The kind that Justin got from his friend Joey?"
Before we could say anything else, Joey spun, and threw the bottle at the wall. It exploded, shards and suds flying everywhere, and I jumped, tensing. Chris and I watched Joey's back, and Joey stared at the wet spot on the wall as beer trickled down the wallpaper.
"Justin thinks I hate him," Joey said quietly. "He has ever since the night it happened. He hasn't said it, but he doesn't have to. I know what I said to him, what I screamed at him, and that's why he shies away from me. That's why he doesn't talk to me anymore, and doesn't want to be near me, not even on stage. He thinks I hate him. And tonight, because of that, I knew that he would listen to me if I said that to him. He needed someone to be tough, to make him pull whatever's left out of himself, so that he could walk out of there, and I knew he would listen if I said it."
"Joey, you said it yourself in the bathroom," Chris said. "Somebody had to do it."
"I just, I wish it wasn't me," Joey said, turning back to us. Chris was the big brother, the one who watched us all and stepped in where he thought we needed it, but Joey was the one who remained constant, always there with a hug and a little pick me up. I'd never seen him so unhappy. "I failed Justin. He's our baby brother, and I failed him, and I just keep doing it. I told him that he did it to Lance, but I keep doing the same thing to him. Every time he's down, I just kick him again, and I don't want to. I just, everything I do with Justin is wrong. I love him, you guys, and he thinks I hate him."
"Joey, have you talked to him about it?" I asked, patting the couch next to me for Joey to sit. "I'm sure he'd listen. He did when Chris talked to him."
"I can't talk to Justin," Joey said sadly, looking at the table.
"Joey, I know it'll be hard, but we can do it with you," Chris offered. "Or you could go with him to his doctor."
"You don't understand," Joey said, shaking his head. "I'm not afraid of talking to him. I know that it upsets Justin for me to be around him, but I know I could talk it out with him. I know I could apologize to him, and that he'd understand after we talked about it."
"Then why can't you talk to him?" I asked. "Why haven't you tried patching things up?"
"Because Lance won't let me anywhere near him," Joey answered, reaching for another bottle. He popped the top off as Chris and I glanced at each other. Chris, sitting on the back of one of the chairs, didn't seem to have any more answers than I did.
"Joey, you can't really mean that," I said. I knew that Lance and Joey were having some kind of argument right now, and I had assumed it had something to do with the way Justin felt about Joey, but I didn't think Lance would deliberately keep the two of them apart. "I mean, Lance wants Justin to get better, too. Why on earth would he not want you around Justin?"
Joey got up and started pacing again while we waited, his bottle abandoned on the coffee table. Finally he jammed his hands in his pockets and turned back to us. His face looked sad, and he stared at the floor, not meeting either of our eyes.
"While you and JC were on your honeymoon, I did something really stupid," Joey said. "I know I should have talked to you guys, or Chris, before I said anything, but instead I went over to see Lance, and I, um, I fucked up."
"How?" Chris asked.
"I asked Lance to move out of Justin's and come stay with me," Joey answered. "I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for him to be there, and that he'd be better off at my house if he couldn't go to his own. I told him that I thought that Justin was using him, and that he'd end up getting hurt."
"How could you say that to him?" I blurted, not thinking. "What did you think Justin was going to do to him?"
Joey looked at me without answering, his face dropping even more.
"Joey!" I said, stunned. "Justin couldn't do that to Lance even if he wanted to! He can't even do the choreography, for Christ's sake! What were you thinking?"
"I didn't know!" Joey said, pacing again. I realized I wasn't being very helpful.
"I'm sorry, Joey," I said quietly. I reached for one of the bottles, and twisted it open. Chris raised an eyebrow at me, but I was tired, and wanted a drink. I hated beer, but I just wanted to take the edge off. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
"I didn't know how bad Justin was, then," Joey said. "I mean, after it happened, him and Lance barricaded themselves up in their cabin, and then they came back to Justin's house, and we didn't see them at all. I knew that Justin was hurt, but I didn't know that he was so fragile. I didn't know that he was like this, now, and I thought he was using the way that Lance feels about him so that he wouldn't be alone."
"How does Lance feel about him?" I asked. "I mean, I know they're friends, and they're close, but is there, I don't know, do they love each other? Not like we all love each other, but, you know?"
"I don't know," Joey said. "I think Lance always had a crush on Justin, even if he didn't realize it. Justin was right about that. Lance always did look at him, and follow him around. If Justin dyed his hair blonder, so did Lance. If Justin bought something, Lance would turn up three or four days later in the same shirt. He always said it was just that he admired Justin, and we all shrugged it off because, you know, we were all straight, then, but that's how Justin got him. That's how Justin hurt him, and I thought Justin would do it again, maybe not the same thing, but that Justin would, I don't know, take advantage of Lance somehow."
"It's not like that, though," I said, swallowing. The beer was bitter, strong, and I wondered why Joey chose to drink this when he could have room service bring up a bottle of rum or something.
"I know," Joey said. "I know it's not. Lance needs someone to take care of, and Justin needs someone to take care of him. It's perfect for both of them."
"And if they are in love, if it's more than friendship, I don't think either of them knows it," Chris said.
"I really don't care if they are," Joey said. "I was wrong, and I admit it. Justin isn't like he was. He's not a manipulator anymore. He doesn't even have an ego left, and Lance, well, I've never seen Lance be this strong. If something was going on between them, I'd give them both my blessing. I just, I want to be their friend again. I want Justin to smile when he sees me. I don't want to see him almost cowering because I walk into the room, and I want to be Lance's friend again, too. He's my best friend, and I don't even know how to talk to him."
"Maybe if one of us tried," Chris suggested. "I mean, Justin listens to me, and Jack and Lance are pretty tight. Maybe one of us can kind of, you know, nudge them a little."
"Maybe we should just leave it alone," Joey said bitterly, turning back to the window. "After what I did tonight, after what I said to Justin, I don't think either of them wants to even know me, much less be my friend. I don't even want to know me."
"Joey," I began, but he cut me off.
"Could you guys go, please?" he asked, facing the glass. "I appreciate you coming by, I do, but honestly, I want to be alone, ok? I promise not to drink any more, or break anything, or kill myself. I just want to be away from everyone for a while, ok?"
Chris and I looked at each other, and I nodded.
"Yeah, Joey, we can do that," Chris said, as I stood. "We'll see you tomorrow, ok?"
Joey nodded, not answering. I looked at his back.
"Good night, Joey," I said. "We love you, and we're here if you need us."
He nodded again, and Chris and I left, letting the door close behind us.
"I'm so tired of this," I sighed, running my hands through my hair.
"I know," Chris said quietly. "I am, too. What the hell are we going to do?"
"I don't know," I answered. "Are you still ok?"
"Yeah," Chris answered, smiling.
"One out of five isn't bad, then," I said, shaking my head. "Chris, what did Nick want?"
"Not to have you strangle him?" Chris suggested, trying to cheer me up.
"No, I'm serious," I said. "I mean, last time he saw Justin, he left him bleeding and crying, and didn't even try to get any of us to help him. He can't have dreamed that Justin would be happy to see him, so what did he want?"
"I don't know," Chris answered. "I mean, I'm sure he wasn't planning on doing it again, even if Justin thinks he was, not in the bathroom at an MTV party. Maybe, I don't know, he wanted to see if Justin was ok? Or to apologize?"
"Nick?" I asked, wondering if Chris had finished the rest of the beer while I wasn't looking.
"OK, you're right," Chris agreed, taking my arm and tugging me toward Justin and Lance's room. "I should call Johnny before we go to bed, and tell him Justin was sick. He needs to know before the papers start calling in the morning."
"And I need to get Josh to bed," I sighed. "He's taking this really hard."
"He always does," Chris agreed. "He has you, though."
Yeah, Josh had me. Neurotic, jealous, still prone to nightmares. He still had me, his own little personal part of the bigger problem. I pushed that thought away, knowing that it was only popping up because I was so tired and drained. If this was how I felt, God only knew what Josh was thinking and feeling. Maybe I shouldn't have left him alone in Lance and Justin's suite. It wasn't exactly a festive atmosphere. Chris and I tapped quietly at the door, not wanting to wake Justin if he'd finally fallen asleep, and Josh opened it slowly, looking very tired. As we walked in he hugged me, wrapping his arms around me and holding on tightly as he rested his head on my shoulder, and I held him as Lance stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door half closed behind him.
"He's asleep, finally," Lance said. He looked exhausted, and Chris patted him on the shoulder. Lance smiled at him gratefully. "I'm going to go to bed now, too. Thank you guys for being here for him tonight."
"We'll always be here for him, Lance," Josh said, his arms sliding off of me. He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and held on tightly. "And for you."
"I know," Lance said, smiling.
"Can we do anything for you?" I asked. "Do you need anything?"
"Should we come by tomorrow?" Chris asked. "Maybe do a big breakfast or something?"
"I don't know," Lance answered. "I don't know how he's going to be when he wakes up, you guys. I've never seen him like this, ever. He just keeps crying, like he can't stop. What if he's still doing it in the morning? This is what he's afraid of. He's built Nick up in his mind, built up this overwhelming fear of him coming back, and now Nick did, and it's my fault."
"Lance, it's not your fault," Josh said. "We all thought it was ok. We even checked the guest list. No one knew that Nick would be there."
"But Justin shouldn't have been alone," Lance said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have let him go anywhere, not by himself."
"Lance, what would you have done if you were there?" Chris asked. "I mean, honestly, he'd still have freaked even if he just saw Nick on the other side of the room. You did everything you could have, Lance. He reached out for you, and you were there. That's what he needed."
"But it wasn't enough," Lance said, a tear trickling down his cheek. I let go of Josh and hugged Lance, and I felt Josh and Chris wrap their arms around him, too. "I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I could have done anything, but I should have been there. Nick touched him, he touched him. He had his, his filthy, he had his fucking hands on Justin and I should have been there!"
"Shhh," I soothed. Jesus. Everyone felt like they failed Justin tonight. "Lance, it's ok."
"It's not ok," Lance said, tears still trickling down his face as he held me, cradled by all three of us. "I promised to protect him. I promised to watch him, and take care of him, and always be here for him, and I turned my back for a second and Nick got to him!"
"Come on," I said, tugging him toward the couch. "Come sit down."
Josh and I sat down with Lance on the couch, Josh reaching for tissues, as Chris went to the bathroom for some water. Josh handed the box to Lance, and he swiped at his eyes with them, breathing deeply to get himself under control.
"I'm sorry," Lance said, wadding up the tissues.
"Don't apologize," Josh said.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Chris added, handing him the water. Lance nodded at him, swallowing.
"I'll ask again, Lance," I said. "What can we do?"
"We'll be ok," Lance said, patting my knee. I didn't miss the "we", and when I glanced at Chris I saw that he'd caught it, too. "Maybe we should all just get some sleep. I'll call you guys in the morning and let you know how he is, ok?"
"OK," Josh said. "Do you want one of us to sleep over here? On the couch?"
"No, no," Lance said. "That's ok. Chris, you have Vlada over there in your suite, and JC, you only have tonight and tomorrow night with Jack before he flies out again. We'll be ok over here, but thank you. I know you guys are here if I need you, or if Justin does."
"I guess we'll call it a night, then," Chris said walking toward the door. Josh and I followed, casting one last look back at Lance, who was untying his shoes. "Good night, Lance."
"Good night, guys, and thank you," Lance said.
"Lance, if we have to cancel tomorrow, we can," Josh said, pausing at the door.
"I'll ask, but I don't think he will," Lance said. "It's all he has to look forward to."
Josh nodded, and we left without saying anything else. We bid Chris a good night, waving to Vlada, who was sitting on the couch in the suite in a long, old fashioned silk nightgown, waiting up for him. She smiled at us, and Chris was already reaching out for her as the door closed. Josh and I walked into our suite and began tossing clothing onto the floor haphazardly, both so tired that we just wanted to crawl into bed. We brushed our teeth, bare shoulders sliding against each other as we crowded around the sink, and then we switched off the lights and slid into the large bed. We slid close to each other, not speaking, and ended up face to face on one pillow, my hands brushing Josh's hair back, and his rubbing my shoulders.
"Are you ok, Josh?" I asked. "Was it really bad?"
"Kind of, but not the way you're thinking," Josh answered. He sounded so sad, and so tired. I remembered what he'd told me last night, about being exhausted, and wondered if all of this might be too much for him. "He just cried and cried, until he fell asleep, and it's not, it's almost abnormal crying, Jack. He doesn't sob or anything. He just cries, like he doesn't even know he's doing it."
"It's ok, baby," I whispered, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "Someday this will all be ok. Until then, I love you, Josh."
"I love you, too," he whispered. I leaned over to kiss his cheek, and he turned a little, catching my lips with his. My hands were still on his face, holding him, and his slid up my shoulders to my jaw, holding me as well. He kissed me again, and again, little, feather light kisses. "I love you."
"Josh," I sighed, not sure if we should do this. Both of us were still so emotionally unsteady at the moment, but maybe this was what Josh needed. His kisses got a little harder, a little more passionate, his lips pressed firmly against mine. I felt his tongue press into my mouth as he rolled me a little, stretching his warm, lanky body on top of mine.
"I love you," he whispered again in the darkness, sliding smoothly against me.
His chest pressed against mine, and I ran my hands up and down his sides, feeling the soft, velvet feel of him, the glide of his toned, perfect muscles under all that delicious, supple tan. One of his hands slid down onto my chest, his palm flat, and he rubbed it back and forth between my pecs, feeling my heart beating, before sliding it to the side, brushing it over my nipple. He slid it lower, still pressing lightly, as I slid my hands around to his back, running them over the his smoothly rounded shoulders. His hard cock was digging into my hip, poking, prodding at me in his urgency, and his hand slid down over my abs to wrap around my equally hard cock. He squeezed it tightly, and I groaned into his mouth, almost choking on his tongue. His hand slid lower, kneading my balls for a second, rolling them carefully, and then I felt his fingers tracing a circle around my hole.
"Please, Jack," he panted, circling, not touching me there yet as I felt all of my nerves waking up and singing. "Can I make love to you?"
Josh was always careful, always reverential and tender when he touched me, even when I urged him to be rough, but he sounded so soft, so romantic then, that my heart melted. His voice was low and husky, a voice made for pornography, and it sent shivers racing down my spine. He was still kissing me, nuzzling at my neck now, but he still hadn't slipped a finger inside, and the anticipation was killing me. His other arm lay still at my side, waiting for me to answer him.
"Yes, Josh," I panted, my hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him toward me, trying to get as much of him to touch me as possible. "Yes, please make love to me, please."
"Since you said please," he said, grinning in the darkness. He reached toward the nightstand, looking for the lube, and a few interminable seconds later I felt it on his fingertips.
"I love you so much," I panted, my fingers curling, the tips digging into his back, as he opened me, getting me ready. He pressed a condom into my fingers. "Open that for me?"
"Love to," I answered, moaning, my hips rolling up toward his hand.
I fought to catch my breath, my body on fire beneath his hands. He shifted a little, pushing my knees gently apart with his, and I slid my feet up and down his calves, feeling them flex as he moved, feeling the soft golden brown hair there. I felt his thighs, long and lean, flexing against mine as he pulled himself up, and my hands dropped down, squeezing his cock as he had mine earlier. He sighed against me, and smashed his mouth down onto mine, humming into me, as his tongue dipped around my mouth, sliding over my teeth and against my own tongue. I rolled the condom down over him, feeling his shaft jump and throb in my hands, and when he shifted again I felt the wide, firm head of his cock pressing against me before he popped inside, sliding gently forward, only giving me a little at a time. As he pressed in, a slow roll of pleasure, his tongue continued to push into my mouth, penetrating me as well, and then I felt his slick, lube coated hand wrap wetly around my cock.
As Josh began to pump into me, slowly rolling his hips like he was dancing, moving and shifting above me, he fisted my cock in time to his movements. He bit and chewed at my mouth with his, urgently consuming me, but his movements into me continued to be slow and tender. With it being the second night, the urgency had been taken off, and we had time to be tender with each other, to revel in each other's bodies and in our love. I ran my hands up and down his back, over his ribs, across his lats, and traced the curve of his spine. His legs flexed against mine, his abs constricting in a rolling flex as my cock brushed against them, guided by his slippery hand. With his other hand he continued to hold the back of my neck, keeping my head turned toward him, rolling it around as he dove beneath my chin, finally, to bury his mouth against my neck.
It seemed to go on for hours, our dance of flesh, but it couldn't really have been that long. My whole body was on fire, burning everywhere that Josh touched me, and I thought my eyes were going to roll back into my head. Both of us were covered with a light sheen of sweat, but that just seemed to make him glide over me even more lightly, maddeningly, and my own hands slid down his back again to grab his ass, pulling him against me, silently urging him onward. He ignored my hands, going at his own pace still, as if determined to prolong this as much as possible. After a while, though, the inevitable happened. We both began to speed up, breathing a little harder, moans getting a little higher and sharper, and finally I felt Josh's body tighten beautifully above mine as he yelped into my mouth and his hips jammed against mine. A few seconds later I spilled into his hand, and after we both caught our breath he cleaned us off, tossing the tissues sloppily to the floor.
"I love you," he panted again, nuzzling against me, cradling me softly against him as he kissed the back of my neck. "I'm so lucky to have you."
"I love you, too, Josh," I sighed, letting him spoon against me, lost in the feeling of all that skin on mine.
My sleep was calm and dreamless, and I hoped everyone else's was, as well.
To be continued.