Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
-
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.
-
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, we now continue.
"Chris, would you please just," JC began, but then he passed the doorway, saw us standing in the hallway, and jerked to a stop.
Justin was standing ramrod straight next to me, his fists tightly closed. His arms were shaking a little, and I could see that his jaw was clenched as well. I wasn't doing a lot better, feeling my face harden as I realized that Chris was in the kitchen, badmouthing us once again, the same song on a different day. JC was holding a bottle of water, the only thing I'd seen him drink yet that wasn't tea, and when he saw us, his face just fell. He looked at Justin, reading the anger in his stance and the set of his shoulders, and his face pinched as he took a half step toward us. Chris's voice stopped him cold, though.
"Would I please what?" Chris blurted, a chair scraping across the floor. JC glanced back toward him, but it was too late. Chris looked down the hallway and saw us, and that annoyingly slappable sneer curved immediately across his face. "Oh."
"Justin, Chris, I," JC began, but I wasn't sure which Chris, me or Kirkpatrick, he was talking to.
"Clearly we're interrupting," I began, reaching for Justin's hand. When he felt my touch, his fingers curled around mine, lacing through them, gripping me so tightly it almost hurt. I could feel how upset he was.
"No, we were just talking," JC said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.
"About us," Justin snapped through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, and?" Chris demanded, stepping into the hallway with his chin out like he wanted to get in a fistfight right then. Actually, maybe he did. He might have sneered at Justin, but when his eyes ticked over and caught mine, fire burned. The look on his face then was pure hatred, and he actually bared his teeth at me like he wanted to bite me.
"We should go," I said, tugging at Justin's hand a little.
"Yeah, you should," Chris said. "Go home."
"You fucking," Justin began, stepping forward. I held tightly to his hand, wanting to pull him back, but also wanting to see him pop Chris in the mouth, really hard.
"Stop, please," JC said, stepping between them. There was still about five feet of space between them, so he wasn't in imminent danger of catching a stray blow. "Just stop. Chris, Justin lives here, and Chris V. is our guest. Not Justin's. Ours."
Chris stepped away from him, shaking his head. The look on his face was pity, frustration, and anger.
"You're so much better than this, JC," he said, turning away. He stomped toward the kitchen. "You're so much better than sniffing after your bitch boy and his toy, and letting him fucking flaunt his piece of ass in front of you in your own fucking house. In your own house, JC!"
Justin flinched a little, and JC looked back and forth between him and Chris's back. I wanted to say something to Chris, even though I knew he was just baiting us. I wanted to rise to that challenge, to fly down the hall and tackle him. Maybe I wasn't the athletic type in college, but Matt and his jock friends had sucked me into enough games of touch football over the years that I could probably fake it if I had to. Instead, swallowing, I pulled on Justin's arm a little, catching his attention. I could see his eyes glistening, even though he was trying to hold it in.
"Come on," I said, leaning toward him. "Come on, we'll go to the music room, or the living room or upstairs. Just come on, Justin. Don't listen to this."
"Yeah, don't listen to the truth," Chris tossed back down the hallway.
"You," Justin began, and I jerked his arm hard enough to make him focus on me for a second.
"Don't, please," I said, softly enough to keep Chris from hearing. I looked at JC. "Go deal with your friend, please, JC."
JC nodded. I realized that I'd more or less just done exactly the same thing that Justin had done to JC the other night, letting him know that I would take care of Justin, but it was also completely different. I didn't snap at him, and he didn't look hurt when I said it. Instead he just nodded, staring at me so hard for a second that I thought his eyes would bore a hole through me, and then he turned away and started down the hallway to the kitchen.
"Justin?" I asked. I could see that he was upset, and when he looked at me his bottom lip was trembling. "Come on. You don't want to listen to this."
Justin's jaw set firmly as he shook his head. He started to pull me down the hall.
"Yes, I do," he said, dragging me along with him.
We ended up in the living room, where barely any of the three of us spent any time. The music room was more comfortable, and more homey, for lack of a better term. The living room was almost formal, the kind of room that would look good if MTV Cribs ever stopped by. It wasn't a bad room, by any means. The furniture was comfortable, black leather couches flanked by glass topped tables with chromed lamps, the carpeting deep and soft and the windows looking out on the yard. There were candles on the coffee table and pictures on the walls, but the room was completely impersonal. The paintings were abstract, and there wasn't a single piece of anything related to Justin, JC, or Nsync. If someone came into this room, they wouldn't have the slightest clue about Justin and JC's relationship. It was a show room, where they could meet with important people who would sit in it and not even realize that JC and Justin both lived here in the same house as roommates, much less as lovers.
Justin motioned me toward one of the couches, and I sat, waiting to see what he was doing. To my surprise, he walked over to the music panel and started punching buttons, and JC and Chris's voices burst from the panel.
"Justin!" I hissed, and then clapped my hands over my mouth, terrified that they would hear me.
"What?" he asked, shooting me a pissy, annoyed look as he held the button down. "They're talking about us. And I have it on speaker only."
"I can't believe you just did that," JC said, not quite sharply. I blinked. It was like he was speaking my thoughts. "You know I don't like to hear you talk to Justin that way."
"This is wrong, and you know it," I hissed at Justin, getting up to stand next to him. I wanted to slap his hand away, but couldn't quite bring myself to do it.
"My mistake!" Chris snapped loudly. "How on earth could I have forgotten that we never talk about sainted, holy Justin no matter what he does to you? I can't believe I didn't remember that he walks on water and doesn't ever do anything wrong, even when he's dragging you through the mud and then wiping his feet on you when he's done. You're being a fucking doormat, JC!"
"Stop it!" JC said, his voice firm.
"You're letting him walk all over you, and I want to know why!" Chris barked. "Don't fucking walk away from me! Why are you doing this? Why are you letting him do this to you?"
There was a pause before JC spoke again, and I glared at Justin in silence. When JC finally did answer, his voice had that tired, frustrated sound, that defeated note that I'd caught from him a few times. It wasn't quite the crushed hurt from his bedroom last night, but it was the voice he used the few times we'd talked about Justin.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," JC said finally. "I have my reasons."
"I'm going to keep listening," Justin said, his voice flat, as he stared at me. His eyes were cold, and I remembered the discussion we'd had last night about me pushing him. Justin wasn't going to move from his point, and I knew how stubborn he could be. "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay."
In the kitchen, we could hear the refrigerator door open and close, and the sound of the icemaker. Cubes clinked into a glass, and then a can popped, and still I hadn't moved. The God's honest truth was that I wanted to listen just as much as Justin did, and I looked away, guilty, as I walked back to the couch. As I turned, Justin reached out and touched my shoulder, but I kept walking away. I didn't want to think about how low we'd sunk.
"Look, JC," Chris began, no longer angry. Apparently he saved that tone for us. "I've been talking to Lynn."
"Stop it," JC said, his voice actually carrying a little bite. I didn't think he was capable of that. "This is my life, Chris. Mine, and Justin's, and Chris's, too. It's not yours, or Lynn's, or Lance's or Joey's or any of the other people who think they have a say in this. And I especially don't want to hear from people like her."
I watched Justin to see if he would react to that, but his face remained blank. It was one thing for him to call his mother a bitch, but to hear it from someone else might be a little harsh.
"I'm trying to be your friend," Chris said, not giving up. This speech was eerily similar to the discussion Joey and I had before I came here with Justin.
"Be my friend by respecting what I do," JC said dismissively. He sounded so tired again, so frustrated. It couldn't just be the discussion with Chris. Something else was eating at him.
"JC, I can't do that if I don't understand," Chris said. "I mean, how can you do this? How can you share your house with them?"
"It's Justin's house, too," JC said. "I don't have the right to keep him out of his own house, and I wouldn't hurt him that way."
"What about the way he's hurting you?" Chris asked. Justin blinked, shaking his head, as if it had never occurred to him that he might be hurting JC.
"That's not important," JC said softly. Justin looked at me, his mouth open, his face confused. I walked over to him, holding out my arms, and he rested his head on my shoulder.
"What do you mean it's not important?" Chris demanded, his voice rising again. "He's using you as a fucking doormat!"
"Stop it," JC said sharply, his voice trembling. Why was he letting Chris browbeat him? "Please stop talking about Justin like that. I won't have it."
"Chris, am I hurting JC?" Justin whispered, his eyes glistening.
"Not on purpose," I whispered, holding him.
"Would you rather I talked about Vanderhall?" Chris asked. You could hear the sneer even without seeing the top lip curling with distaste. "I mean, I can see you letting Justin come back, but him? He's nobody, JC. Not only that, but he's fucking your boyfriend."
"Stop it!" JC repeated. "Just stop, please. You don't know him. You don't know anything about him."
JC was defending me?
"I know a lot about him," Chris countered. "Probably more than you."
"Yeah, because of your investigator," JC said bitterly. "I can't believe you and Lynn did that. I can't believe the two of you could be so underhanded."
"Why do you care?" Chris asked, cutting him off. "He's nothing to you, and you're letting him run around the house nailing your boyfriend whenever he wants to."
"Stop! Enough!" JC said, raising his voice. I heard Chris sputter, and JC barked at him again. "I mean it! You do not, ever, whether I'm around or not, talk about Justin that way, not ever! And you're wrong about Chris."
"What, he's your friend now?" Chris asked in that same mocking tone.
"Chris and I respect each other," JC said simply. Wow. JC respected me. Mr. Perfect actually thought highly of me. If I hadn't been hugging Justin I might have fainted. "That's more than I can say for you right now."
"But he's with your boyfriend," Chris pleaded.
"No, he's not," JC answered. "Justin broke up with me. End of story. He's not my boyfriend, and if people like you and Lynn keep sticking your noses in, he may not even be my friend. Is that what you want? Is it? You want me to sit around the house alone? You want me to pull back into my shell and not call anyone and not do anything and not care?"
"Hey, dude, don't be like that," Chris said. I wondered if JC was crying, because he sounded like he might be about to. "You'll still have Joey, and Lance, and Tony, and you know I'll always be here for you."
There was a pause before JC answered, and when he did I was once again surprised.
"You're not what I need," he said coldly. "Not when you're like this."
"JC," Chris began.
"Please leave, Chris," JC said. "Please go home. I'll talk to you, well, I don't know when, but I don't want it to be right now. Please go."
"Fine," Chris sighed. "But I have to say again that you're better than this, and you know it. You deserve."
"I told you, I have my reasons," JC said. The pain in his voice was sharply cutting, even through the speaker. "Just go."
"JC."
"Go!" JC yelled, and we both jumped at the sound of glass smashing.
"Fine," Chris said, and we heard the sound of his footsteps over the speaker. "Don't cut yourself cleaning that up."
In the kitchen, JC let out a racking sob, an almost barking noise of pain and anguish, and my hand flew out to finally shut the panel off. It was too much, too personal, and Justin's chest hitched as he crushed me to it. I walked us carefully over to a couch as he trembled against me. Justin looked up at me finally, and although his eyes were glistening, he wasn't crying.
"Chris, I'm hurting JC," he said softly, shaking his head. "I mean, you heard him. His voice. I'm hurting him."
"But not on purpose," I repeated, holding his hands, keeping my voice low and soothing. I was getting really good at handling Justin's moods. Justin looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes, and I felt them narrow. I knew that look. He was guilty, and didn't want to admit it to me. "Justin?"
"I wanted to," he whispered. No. He'd promised me that wasn't why he was doing this. I let go of his hands, and he grabbed them. "Not now! Not since I met you, Chris, I swear. When it first happened, when he told me that he slept with him again, I wanted to hurt him back. I wanted to get back at him, and make him feel like I did."
"But?" I asked, filling in his pause.
"I couldn't do it," Justin answered, looking down again. "I wanted to just find some guy, and bring him home, and let him, you know, let him do me all over the house, and I couldn't do it. I can't be with someone, I can't touch someone like that, if I don't care about them. I couldn't hurt him like that, and I couldn't use someone else like that, either. That's not who I am."
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, just a little brush.
"Glad to hear it," I said, squeezing his hands. Justin pulled me over, and I settled against him on the couch, laying my head on his firm chest as he pushed back into the cushions. I rested one hand on his other pec, feeling his heart beat under my palm, and he ran his fingers through my hair.
"Now I'm hurting him anyway," Justin observed sadly. "And it's not the way I thought. It doesn't feel good at all."
"It's not supposed to," I sighed. "Justin, we knew this would be like this, and JC knew that having us here would hurt him. But he just, he, well."
"He has his reasons," Justin finished simply.
"Whatever they are," I agreed. I had a pretty good idea, actually. I was sure, as I had been from the minute I met him, that JC was still in love with Justin. "And Chris, Jesus."
"He's just nuts," Justin agreed, shaking his head. "I can't believe he talked to JC like that, and the things he said."
"It's just talk, Justin," I said, looking up at him. My hand rubbed his chest lightly. "Don't think about it."
"I'll try not to," he whispered, kissing my forehead.
We sat on the couch for a while, somehow forgetting that we had bags sitting by the stairs and that in the kitchen JC was probably crying and cleaning something he'd broken. Justin and I had each other, but JC was alone, trying to deal with this by himself. The thought that it was his own fault didn't really do much to comfort me. I tried not to think about it, the same way I'd told Justin not to think about things, but I felt a lot better when JC appeared at the doorway, tapping lightly on the frame since there wasn't an actual door. He'd composed himself, but he still looked sad, and he wasn't doing a good job of covering it like he usually did.
"Justin, Chris, I'm sorry," he said quietly. Unlike Justin, JC could meet my glance no matter how upset he was, and I could see the sincerity in his narrow, blue green eyes. "He called, and asked if he could come hang out, and I thought that was all he wanted. I thought that it would be ok, and I didn't know that he would say all that stuff. I wouldn't have had him over if I had."
"It's ok," I sighed, patting the cushion next to me. JC didn't take it, sitting on the couch across from us instead, but I could tell that he appreciated the offer from the slight smile he gave me. No teeth, but it was an attempt, and then Justin surprised me by making another.
"Why don't you let me and Chris run our bags upstairs and throw them on the bed," Justin said, standing. "And then we can all go out and grab something to eat. No cooking, and no ordering in."
JC blinked at him for a second.
"You're not mad?" he asked, confused. That line appeared between his eyebrows again. Justin shook his head.
"No," Justin answered, pulling me up off of the couch by the hand. "You apologized, no hard feelings. Now go get dressed and put some shoes on, and Chris and I'll change, and we'll grab one of the guards and get the back room at Rence and have a good time."
Justin bounced out of the room, determined to pretend that nothing was wrong, the same way he had from the minute we moved in. This time, though, it seemed like a good idea that we play along, and JC and I looked at each other and shrugged.
"Rence?" I asked.
"French food, very expensive," JC said, looking at his own jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet while I looked at my equally casual outfit. "Guess we'd better go get changed."
When I got to the bedroom Justin had already brought most of the bags up and stripped out of his shirt, standing in front of the closet with his back to me and his pants undone as I dropped the last of the shopping on the bed. I walked up behind him, running one hand up his spine as I caressed his ass with the other, sliding it through the loose waist of his cargo pants and under his briefs, squeezing his cheek gently. He sighed, leaning back into me, his head rolling back on his neck as I kissed along the side to his ear. I began to nibble at the lobe as he sighed, his hands gripping two hanging shirts in his closet loosely.
"Chris," he sighed.
"I'm proud of you, baby," I whispered, flicking my tongue over the curve of his ear. "Let's get dressed for dinner, ok? Then maybe when we get back, we can treat each other to a nice dessert."
"No maybe," Justin said, letting out a little sigh as I let go of him. He turned, grabbing me and fighting his tongue into my mouth. He crushed my body against his, my hands having nowhere to go except to press against his firm chest and all that soft hot skin, and his lips sealed over mine as his hands pulled greedily at my back. When he let me go, I was gasping for air, and my mouth was wet. I was sure my lips were bruised, and Justin grinned wickedly at me. "Later is a definite, not a maybe."
Dinner turned out to be a really good time. Justin's dogged insistence on acting like nothing was wrong, combined with his bubbly enthusiasm, was kind of contagious, and I found myself completely without tension by the time we reached the restaurant. JC, for his part, seemed the same, and was actually smiling as we sat at the table in the back room, which Justin had indeed called ahead and booked for us. JC, not surprising in the least since everything else he did was perfect, ordered his dinner and the wine for us in flawless French, snickering as Justin and I struggled to do the same. I was an easy quitter, pointing at the menu to show what I wanted, while Justin gave it his best attempt, ending up ordering in a horribly butchered accent that reminded me of that cartoon skunk that hung out with Bugs Bunny. The waiter did his best not to appear offended, and I figured that with the restaurant being in Florida they must hear a lot of awful accents from tourists.
"What are you guys doing tomorrow?" JC asked over dessert. We were all feeling pretty mellow, having gone through an entire bottle of wine and opened a second. Justin didn't really care for it, but JC was actually very knowledgeable on wine, explaining to me that he was kind of a connoisseur, although he was quick to add that he was far from an expert.
"I have an interview and shoot," Justin answered, shrugging. "I forget which magazine it's for, but Johnny said that Chris can come, too."
"Apparently I'll blend in with the rest of the staff and minders," I said, shrugging. "I'd bring a book, but I have a feeling that looking disinterested would probably raise questions."
"Try to have fun, regardless," JC said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you can learn about Justin's favorite color, or his favorite food, or how many shoes he claims to have."
"Or the way JC doesn't wear the same pair of underwear on tour," Justin snickered.
"Rumor and speculation," JC said, shaking his head.
"When we get back tomorrow you want to work on another mix?" Justin asked, spooning up a little more of his sorbet.
"Sure," JC answered, shrugging. He turned to me. "While we're on the subject of rumor, Chris, did you know that I've heard that Justin throws away all of his underwear?"
"He what?" I asked, cracking up.
"Throws them away, so female fans can find them if they root through his trash," JC laughed along with me. Justin was blushing bright red as JC and I stared at him. "I mean, I read that somewhere."
"Completely untrue," Justin said finally. "Why the hell would I want some girl finding my draws?"
"Maybe he's throwing them away for the male fans," I suggested, shrugging.
"It's possible," JC agreed, raising his glass. I tinked mine against it as if we were toasting Justin's briefs, and then we both drank. "Magazines and the internet never, ever lie."
"I am not throwing my briefs away for anyone!" Justin almost yelled, which just made JC and I laugh harder. "You've seen them in the laundry!"
"Hey, you started it," JC said, shaking his head. He smiled at me. "Any underwear stories to share, Chris?"
"Who says I wear any?" I asked, completely serious. JC blinked at me for a second, his mouth hanging open, and then Justin and I both lost it and broke into laughter. JC blinked for a minute, and then laughed along with us. "Oh, God, we had you."
"Yeah, you did," JC agreed, and the three of us grinned at each other as if nothing else was wrong.
We managed to finish that second bottle of wine before leaving, and while we were on our best behavior on our way through the restaurant, we were giggling again by the time we got to the car. Justin kept trying to hold my hand while we waited for the valet, and I kept slapping it away, which only made him snicker worse. Nobody seemed to be around, but I figured better safe than sorry, even with my alcohol impaired judgment. The bodyguard opted to drive, which gave us all the giggles again, even if it wasn't funny.
"No drunk driving for Nsync!" JC chortled.
"Yeah, we're not the Backstreet Boys," Justin agreed.
Justin and I climbed into the back, crowding against each other on the seat, as JC took shotgun by the bodyguard. The whole way home he held my hand, and kept trying to get his face in against my neck while I swatted him away and hissed at him to stop. He saw it as funny, and kept giggling, but I didn't want to make out with him, not in the same car as JC. Even if JC didn't notice, or was deliberately not noticing by not turning around and not talking to us, he still didn't need to hear it. It was that problem we'd had yesterday, with what JC knew versus what we threw in his face.
"Justin, knock it off," I hissed, pulling his hand away from my shirt buttons. "Not here."
"Tiny signed a release," he whispered, kissing across my cheek toward my mouth. I held his jaw firmly between my hands.
"Not now," I said.
"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes.
JC was a little more subdued as we entered the house, walking quietly and quickly with his hands in his pockets. We followed him up the stairs, still holding hands, and he paused by his door.
"Thanks for inviting me to dinner," he said softly, looking at our linked hands. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Good night."
He closed his door before we could even answer, and I felt sad again as I followed Justin to our room. I know that Justin and I had explained to him that we weren't going to limit ourselves in his presence, and that we were going to be ourselves and show how we felt about each other, but it still didn't feel right. I actually felt bad for touching Justin in front of him when I remembered the way he'd talked to Chris earlier. Whatever his reasons were, I hoped they were important enough to him to make up for the pain he had to be feeling.
Justin was clearly not feeling any of the guilt I was, though. I figured he had already put his momentary guilt from earlier aside, because nothing seemed to be bothering him, and as I walked into the bedroom he closed the door behind us and tackled me to the bed, tickling me. I giggled and twisted beneath him, but he kept it up, rolling me over so that he was laying on top of me, his fingers digging at my sides as I tried to push him off. He stopped, leaning down above me, holding himself up with his arms, and stared into my eyes as I tried to catch my breath.
"I believe I was promised a special dessert," he whispered, collapsing on top of me as he buried his face in the crook of my neck.
To be continued.