If All Else Fails
By: Rhys

Joey thinks he’s going to be sick on the plane trip overseas. His stomach is twisted in knots, and he’s more nervous than he’s ever been in his whole life. JC is in the bathroom, puking his guts out and leaving the middle seat empty, while Chris sits on the aisle, drinking as much coke as he can.

“Look at the little lambs,” Joey says, pointing to where Lance is leaned against Justin’s shoulder, a dopey look on his face while he sleeps. Justin’s face is hidden, but he looks pretty asleep too, languid and relaxed. Chris smirks. “Poor guys.”

“Poor C,” Chris replies. “Poor all of us, man. It’s blowing my mind what we’re trying to do here. Like, fucking the most awesome thing ever,” and he looks over to make sure Justin and Lance’s moms aren’t listening, but they’re dead asleep, too. “Think of it. We’re going to be huge someday. This is just the beginning. It’s all gonna change.”

And Joey nods, leaning back and grateful Chris is so convinced. Joey isn’t, not really, but he’s given up his dreams of acting for this. He’s cleared out his bank account and left his family behind, and he’s damn convinced, even if it’s all for naught, that he’s going to have a good time.

In Europe, Joey is legal.

~~~

On Thursday nights, just Joey and Chris hit the clubs after their long day working in Germany, trying to make a name for themselves, and they go out mostly to get laid. All this pent-up energy, Joey can practically feel it weaving through the pores of his skin. JC never comes, and Joey wonders if maybe he’s a virgin. or gay.

Chris gets shot down a fuck of a lot, Joey notices that first, and feels a little bit sorry for him, but he quickly forgets about it when he’s finally convinced a sweet girl who doesn’t speak English to suck his dick in the taxi back to the hotel. Chris sits up front and practices his German with the driver.

This particular girl is clumsy and not into it much, so he kisses her goodnight when they get to the hotel and gives her money for a cab. She smiles crookedly but goes without protest, and Chris shakes his head, smacking Joey on the back.

“Think you’re such a big man, huh?” Chris asks, laughing.

“Just jealous, Kirkpatrick,” Joey replies, and grins.

He stills feels kind of bad for Chris, though.

~~~

JC gets the single room every time because Joey can’t live with his neatness, and Chris can’t live with his quiet, and JC can’t live without sleep. Joey and Chris heap their messes together, and both snore so loudly the other is deaf to it. It’s a nice arrangement, and Joey doesn’t complain.

“Wanna head out to the club we went to last Thursday?” Chris asks, scaring the crap out of Joey by sneaking up behind him, poking him in the sides, and Joey nods, his heart beating fast as lightning. “And I’m going to have sex tonight.”

“Yeah?” Joey asks, and Chris nods, convinced. Joey looks him up and down, thinking maybe he does look a little more presentable tonight, and he’s probably wearing Lance’s clothes, which are always neat and tidy, but his hair is twisted into dreads and he looks kind of. scary. “I wish you luck with that, man.”

“Don’t need luck,” Chris says, “I have my animal magnetism.”

Joey smirks, gelling his hair. “Is that what you call it?”

Chris nods and walks off to pull on his combat boots, and Joey looks at himself in the mirror. He really hopes that Chris gets laid tonight because a horny Chris is impossible to live with, even more so than an anal-retentive JC. If he doesn’t, Joey’s half-tempted to do it himself.

Joey narrows his eyes and pretends he didn’t just think that.

~~~

Germany isn’t what Joey expected at all, but he’s learning to live in a country whose language eludes him. He can order beer and tell a girl she’s pretty, and if all else fails, he can make Chris speak for him, who is unnaturally good with languages. Sometimes, Joey thinks Chris is scary-smart, probably a genius, but Joey understands it probably doesn’t matter to Chris one way or the other. Chris never does what he’s supposed to do.

There’s a big breasted blonde eyeing him from the corner, circled by equally pretty friends, and he smiles to let her know he’s interested. Like a good girl, she ducks her head and blushes, and Joey’s done all he can do. Joey turns to find Chris, and he’s being shot down.

Again.

Joey sips his beer. If he was a girl, he’d be all over Chris, so he can’t understand why Chris can’t seem to get a break. He can actually speak the language, and Joey knows he got laid back in the States. Maybe it’s German women. Maybe German woman just don’t understand Chris like Joey does. Joey doesn’t see the problem.

“Fuck,” Joey says suddenly. That’s the second time in one night he’s thought along those lines, which is dumb as fuck because though Joey likes Chris a lot, Joey is also pretty straight. Not entirely though, and that’s something Joey doesn’t want to face because it means thinking about Prom night and how instead of ending up with his date, Kelly, he ended up with one of his drama buddies in a locked room. Joey still feels really weird about it.

Chris drags his ass to the bar and gets another beer, and he’s looking down, frustrated. Joey pats him on the back supportively, and Chris sighs deeply, drinking his ale. Joey’s hand moves up and down, and soon, his palm is on the back of Chris’s neck, touching warm, prickly skin. He isn’t even aware he stopped until Chris says,

“Uh. Joe?”

Joey snatches his hand back and smiles sheepishly.

He needs another beer.

~~~

Chris is walking like a broken man, no hint of that funny, clever guy Joey likes so much, and Joey follows him, happy to go home alone tonight. Joey fingers the money in his pocket, and well, he thinks he has enough to pay for a woman if Chris is into that sort of thing. He’s not sure he wants to ask, though. Chris might get offended.

Justin and Lance are in the hall when they get back, and Justin bounces up to Chris, but Chris looks at him and brushes him off. Lance frowns, but Justin just shrugs, and they disappear into their room, arms full of snacks. Joey follows Chris into the room and sits on the bed while Chris goes into the bathroom.

Joey’s a tiny bit drunk, so it’s messing with his mind. The line of thought that’s been attacking his brain all night is back, and he’s trying to weigh the pros and cons. Chris is a cool guy, probably cool enough to not care who’s getting him off, and Joey can do it, too. Joey’s done it before, that one time, and it doesn’t make him gay.

Chris comes out of the bathroom and flops into bed, burying his head under a pillow, and Joey bites his lip. He gets up and takes a piss then washes his hands and looks at himself in the mirror. Flicking off the light, Joey creeps across the carpet.

“Chris?” Joey whispers, and Chris lifts his head, pale skin slightly lit by the sliver of light escaping into the room through the split in the curtains. Does he ask or does he just do it? Chris sits up a bit, and Joey falls to his knees, shucking the covers.

“Joe,” Chris says, and his name hovers there until Joey leans forward and ignores the veiled warning. Chris makes a startled sound when Joey curls his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, but Joey doesn’t care. Chris isn’t a bad guy, and he just can’t understand how so many people can reject him. “Joey, what the fuck.”

“Can I?” Joey asks, and his hands are shaking.

“Can you what?” Chris asks sharply, probably wondering what drug he’s on, and Joey can’t blame him. He’s beginning to wonder the same thing, but he looks up and puts a palm over Chris’s cock. That’s that, and Chris gets it. Joey sees the flicker of understanding. “Joe?”

“Yes or no,” Joey says, “because I won’t, if you don’t shut up.”

“Are you.” Chris reaches out, not to knock Joey’s hand off his dick but to touch Joey’s face. Joey tries to pull away, but it’s too late, and if neither of them realised he was crying before, they know now. “Dude, I appreciate the thought, but.”

“I’ve done it before,” Joey blurts out, “I can do it.”

Chris makes a face, and it’s neither good nor bad. “Okay, hey. You’re way too emotional, and I’m just. Dude, I love you for thinking about it, but it’s not right, okay?” Chris lifts the covers and holds them. “But if you really want to do something for me, well. Come on.”

Joey slides under the covers, feeling like a moron, and Chris lets them fall, curling up against Joey’s back. Joey feels sort of sick, like he did on prom night with the taste of sex in his mouth, and thinks he’s just done something really bad.

He hopes Chris can forgive him.

~~~

Chris tries to talk to him the next day but Joey shakes his head and warns him, “don’t.”

Things fall back to normal quickly, but sometimes Chris looks at him, watches him unabashedly when they’re in the van being driven home from the latest gig and the others are passed out on top of each other, exhausted. Joey drops his head and feels like a freak.

It’s amazing how quickly time passes when they’re doing two or three shows a day, and Joey immerses himself in it, just to forget about what he tried to do to Chris, like some sort of faggot or something. Or something. Joey doesn’t like to think about it, so he rarely does.

But sometimes, when Chris is asleep and Joey’s too tired to calm down, he thinks about prom night and how it all started, with a couple beers and a kiss sparked from mutual curiosity. Joey doesn’t even know who made the first move, can’t remember, but he recalls the kissing, and the hand creeping under his shirt then into the front of his pants, and when he shakily asked if he could suck his friend off, and when his friend said yes, remembers even more when it went further, too damn far.

But Joey really doesn’t like thinking about that because he was drunk when he did it, like he was with Chris, and in the week that followed, he stopped talking to his drama buddy and they haven’t talked since. Joey misses him.

It’s not quite as easy to escape Chris, and Joey knows if he does, he’ll miss him so much he doesn’t think he’ll get over it. Joey likes Chris, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes him, but that’s so scary and Joey hates thinking about that, too.

So he tries to forget.

~~~

Chris starts going out by himself because Joey won’t go out, and Lance isn’t allowed, and JC is too tired and sick to move. Justin would go if he could, but he’s only fifteen. Joey is sure that someday that isn’t going matter and Chris is going to take him out anyway, fake ID in tow, just so he won’t come home looking pathetic, like he does now.

It’s this unspoken thing, denied and barely recognised, and sometimes, Joey wants to talk about it just so he can go back to hanging with Chris, and laughing with him, and going out with him. Sometimes, Joey wants to say -- “I’m sorry” -- and kiss him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Joey thinks he understands precisely what that means now.

One night, after drinking solitary, Joey goes to JC, who’s watching movies by himself, wrapped in a big blanket and drinking chicken noodle soup out of a cup. Joey sits quietly for awhile then bursts out with, “can I talk to you about something, C?”

JC smiled kindly and nods. “Sure. What’s up, man?”

“Um. Okay. I know this guy,” Joey starts and winces because not only is that lame but it’s obvious too, but JC just nods and sips at his soup, his nose red and runny. “And um, this guy thinks he might be, like, gay or something, and he doesn’t know what to do to, like, fix it.”

JC sniffles and purses his lips before saying, “well, if he’s gay, there’s nothing he can do about it. I mean, some people are just born like that. Like, um, me, for instance. I was born gay, and yes.” JC laughs suddenly, and Joey jumps. “Um. You could have just asked, you know.”

Joey chews his lower lip. “I wasn’t really talking about you.”

“Oh.” JC rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “You?”

Joey nods.

“Well,” JC says, swallowing another mouthful of soup, and he looks thoughtful, “only you can say if you are or not. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, you know? Of course there isn’t.” JC leans forward, legs gathered to his chest. “Can I ask why you think you might be gay?”

Joey stares at the ground, wriggling his toes. “I, um. Prom night, I. with a guy.”

JC looks surprised. “One time doesn’t make you.”

“And then I tried. with Chris, but he said no,” Joey rushes out with a deep breath. “And I stopped talking to him, but I fucking miss him so much, and like, I fucking hate that chicks won’t sleep with him because he’s worth it, and then I think, I would, and. I’m obviously gay if I want to sex it up with my best friend.”

JC smiles and mouths the edge of the cup before patting Joey’s arms softly and saying, “hey, hey. There’s no strict black and white here, Joey, just a lot of grey. If you aren’t straight, then you have to decide just how not straight you are. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“My mom will kill me, she wants grandkids, and people. Lance, what would Lance say, you know? And Justin, too. And like, our fans, if they found out, I’d be fucking roasted alive. I can’t be anything but straight,” Joey says, and he’s frantic about it, looking every which way, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. “Oh my god.”

“Whoa, hey,” JC says again, “calm down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” And he gets up to get a bunch of blankets, and Joey lets JC throw them all over him, pulls them up to his eyes and shivers. JC sits back down and sniffs. “You’re not sober.”

“No,” Joey agrees, his eyes tearing up again, which is just so stupid and he can’t believe he’s crying about this again, especially not after Chris caught him that last time. Only gay guys cry, Joey thinks, I’m so gay. “I can’t talk about it when I am.”

JC rubs Joey’s back gently, all snotty and gross, and Joey knows he should just slink back to his room like the loser he is, but JC is kind of helping and not being insulted even though Joey knows he’s insulted him at least twice. “Why don’t you come out with me?”

“No! I’m not ready,” Joey says, and he’s shaking all over, wishing he was in bed and hadn’t had those five shots of vodka on an empty stomach.

JC laughs. “No, no, Joey. I didn’t mean come out like that. I meant, to a club.”

“Oh.” Joey rubs his eyes, feeling sleepy. “I guess.”

JC stands up and tugs Joey up by the wrist, pulling him to JC’s bed and pushing him down. For a second, Joey wonders if JC’s going to try something, but he’s already tucking Joey in and grabbing an armful of blankets. “Sleep this off, man.”

Joey nods and closes his eyes, and JC leaves him there, turning off the lights and shutting the door. Joey feels about six years old, but he also feels better, just a tiny bit, to get it all off his chest. He’s probably making something of nothing. Joey is all right.

~~~

JC keeps making plans to go out, and Joey keeps postponing them, and it’s not like either of them can move anyway, not with Lou making them sing and dance on very little food and sleep. Somewhere in the middle of it, Chris falls asleep on Joey’s shoulder, and Joey lets him. JC looks at them sadly, and Joey wants to kiss Chris so badly, but he settles for feeling him breathe.

JC makes him go out to lunch with him between the morning concert and the afternoon concert, and forces him talk about it. Joey spends a lot of time shrugging and mumbling -- “I dunno” -- and pretending he never said anything at all. It’s not as easy to talk about this when he isn’t drunk.

“Do you know who you should talk to?” JC asks suddenly, and Joey shakes his head because he doesn’t know, though suspects maybe it’s Chris and he doesn’t want to do that yet. If Joey’s going to speak to him, it’s going to be because he already knows, not because he’s still confused. “I think you should talk to Lance.”

Joey looks up from his sandwich. “Huh? Lance? No.”

“I think you should talk to Lance,” JC repeats, waving down the waitress and ordering coffee in bad German. She stares at him for a long time, and JC sighs, pointing at his empty cup, and she gets it. He turns back to Joey. “I’m serious. Talk to him.”

“But he. He’s a Southern Baptist,” Joey says bleakly.

“Joey,” JC says and puts all sort of inflection on the word. Joey blinks, leans forward, and JC smiles warmly. “Talk to Lance, okay? I’ll admit I’m not good at this. I just always knew I was gay. I was out to my parents by the time I was eleven. I just think. I think you should talk to Lance.”

Joey’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” JC says, accepting his cup of coffee and smiling.

~~~

Talking to Lance isn’t easy, so Joey just doesn’t. He stops talking to JC too, at least about that, and he goes out by himself, to clubs to find girls because he likes them fine. He probably even likes them more, and that’s the problem solved in his mind. He likes girls more, so therefore Joey is straight.

He’s so tired he can barely stand, and she only speaks German, so he nods at everything she says and twists her hair around his fingers. When she giggles, he leans in closer to hear it, and he thinks, if this was Chris, he’d be screaming in Joey’s ear. This girl is fine, and though he doesn’t know her name, she brings him back to her place, and they fuck for hours.

She mews when he does something right, and he does a lot of things right. She’s easy to be in bed with, arches gracefully and spreads her legs long before he has to ask. She sucks cock like a pro, and she tastes good when he goes down on her. He loves eating chicks out. He really wishes Chris was a girl. This would be so easy.

Later, they sleep for a few hours until Joey can’t stay any longer. She makes him a cup of tea, and he kisses her sweetly like he’s going to see her again when he isn’t then he walks back to the hotel, feeling a bit better about life.

“Fatone,” Lou says when Joey shows up, and he’s mad as fuck, face red like blood, and Joey steps back, bracing to get yelled at. Lou is vicious when he’s angry, but only Chris seems to piss him off at all, so Joey isn’t quite sure how to do this. He stands there, hands behind his back, while Lou calls him names and takes away his solos for the next two weeks and everyone’s in the hall now, watching.

“And if you ever, ever break curfew again, all five of you are never leaving my sight, Fatone. Now, get in the shower and get ready. If we’re late, you’re never getting another solo,” and it’s a threat Joey takes to heart, so he turns on his heel and brushes past Chris, humiliated.

Inside, Joey starts scrambling because he has about seven minutes, and he has so much to do, shower, fix his hair, shave his patchy face, get dressed in those stupid costumes that take forever to get into. Joey just stands there for a minute until Chris is behind him, pushing him into the shower.

“Come on, we can do this, Joe,” Chris says, a palm full of shaving cream and spreading it on Joey’s face while he showers, and Joey is shivering naked under the water, shaking and trying so hard not to cry. If he says anything, he’s going to bawl, so he’s silent. “Can I?”

Chris holds up the razor and Joey nods, scrubbing at himself, and Chris makes quick work of it, reminding Joey of how much a kid Chris isn’t. He nicks a bit, but Joey nicks, too, so it’s okay. When he’s done, Chris pulls him out of the shower and pushes him at his clothes. They’re all laid out, and he’s climbing into them like it’s a race while Chris flits back to the bathroom and comes back with the gel, styling Joey’s hair.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Chris keeps saying, and they are. There’s still four minutes left, and when Joey’s hair is done, Chris helps him get into the outfit, leaning over him and zipping up his back. Joey sniffs, and Chris smells good, clean. The boots give them the most trouble, and Joey does one foots while Chris wrestles with the other. “You’re good, Joe.”

Joey nods, and Chris repeats it -- “you’re good, Joe” -- with his hands on Joey’s face, fingers pressing into his skin, and Joey keeps moving his head, agreeing though he doesn’t feel good at all. “You’re good, Joe,” Chris says, and kisses him, closed-mouthed and brief, but it’s a kiss. “You’re good, Joe.”

“Okay,” Joey says and pulls Chris’s hand off his face, but Chris isn’t going to let him go. The next thing Joey knows is he’s up against the wall, dressed in an ugly sparkly suit, with Chris kissing him, hard, mouth open, tongue snaking in between his lips. Joey smacks his palms against the wall, helpless, then kisses back, ignoring the sharp bump of teeth.

“Guys!” Justin shouts through the door, and Chris grabs Joey by the wrist, breaking the kiss, and then they’re out in the hall, ruffled and out of breath, like two men racing to get dressed in seven minutes, or like two men kissing.

Joey feels strange and even more confused. His lips tingle.

~~~

Joey screws up a lot during the show, forgets his lines and his steps, and JC’s struggling to take over his solos, not knowing them at all but trying his best. Lou’s not going to get mad at him, though, he’s going to be pissed at Joey. Joey is very close to using the emergency credit card his parents gave him to buy a plane ticket and go home.

After the show, Chris corners him, and Joey looks at the floor, hoping his misery is so obvious that Chris fucks off and leaves him alone, but Chris hugs him. “Listen,” he says, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either, okay? But we really need to talk about this.”

Joey nods. “I know.”

Chris tightens his arms, this solid and sturdy weight against Joey’s body, and whispers, “and just. calm down, okay? Lou can fucking kiss my ass. He doesn’t touch any of you guys. We’re here because he needs us. I’ll make sure he knows.”

“He yelled at me,” Joey says like everyone wasn’t watching when it happened.

“Because you skipped curfew and worried JC to the point he was puking all over the place, and Lance was sure you were dead and didn’t sleep at all. He yelled at you because you were stupid, Joe. Next time, you tell me, okay?”

“I was with a girl,” Joey says quietly, “I wanted. I’m not. I mean.”

Chris pulls back but keeps his hands on Joey’s arms, and he looks deadly serious, like he sometimes does when one of those creepy old men in bars are trying to buy Justin drinks between breaks or when they follow Lance into the bathroom. “Just tell me next time.”

Joey nods, hanging his head low, and darts his eyes from left to right. “You ever, um,” Joey lowers his voice as low as it will go, “been really fucking confused about something? And um, maybe, you might have been really scared? And you don’t know yourself anymore?”

Chris tilts his head, up and down, and moves his hands up Joey’s arm, along his shoulder to his face, and Joey breathes deep when two thumbs brush his bottom lip. His mouth opens slightly, and then there he is again, this heavy body fit against Joey’s in ways so perfect, kissing in a deep, hot, heady way. It’s so desperate, and though Joey’s shaking, Chris is, too.

It’s pathetic the way Joey’s tongue snakes out, eager to swipe inside Chris’s body and taste him, and even more deplorable the way Joey doesn’t care that his body is reacting to this strongly, even though it should be muted because of last night, but he’s so alive with this forbidden need for Chris. In this moment, it feels right.

When Chris pulls back, his lips are wet, and there’s a string of saliva between his teeth, and Joey smacks himself against the wall, breathing hard through his nostrils. For a second, Chris’s eyes falter, drop down then rise again, and Joey tries to smile.

“We really need to talk about this,” Chris repeats. “Tonight?”

Joey nods. “Tonight.”

He thinks he might go have that chat with Lance now.

~~~

“Hey, kid. I gotta talk to Lance,” Joey says after he’s showered and Chris is gone to find food he’ll actually eat. Joey gives Justin his keys, and Justin takes them without question. Joey knows the kid’s probably going to jack off on his bed, but it’s all right. Joey really needs to talk to Lance.

Lance looks so young it’s hard to believe he’s seventeen, with his yellow hair and tiny body, but not so young that he doesn’t have a good head on his shoulders and a way of understanding things better than any of them. Lance sits down on the bed, looking at Joey.

“JC wants me to talk to you,” Joey says quietly.

Lance smirks, curling his fingers around the bed, thumbs tucked under his thighs. “Um. You talked to me, like, forty times today. You can tell him we’re getting along fine, and he’ll let up. He thinks I’m still too quiet or something.”

Joey sniffs loudly. “Not that.”

Lance tilts his head. “Okay. Then what?”

“Okay. I have this friend,” Joey says slowly, and it sounds even worse this time around, but maybe Lance will fall for it, even if JC didn’t, or did, but the wrong way. “And this friend is, like. He’s questioning himself.”

“Joey, if your friend did something illegal, please don’t tell me.”

Joey cracks a tiny grin, just because Lance is so serious, and Joey bumps him with his shoulder. Lance smiles hugely and tips his head, and Joey takes a deep breath, trying to be grave. “It’s not an illegal thing. It’s a. personal thing, like. a kind of sexual thing.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes in that rumbly, deep voice of his. “Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, and this friend. has this other friend, who brought it all up again just by, like, existing, you know? And this first friend is really. confused, I guess,” Joey mumbles, scratching at his face because it’s suddenly so itchy. “He isn’t too thrilled to be questioning.”

Lance nods, biting his lower lip. “Are we talking about me?”

“No,” Joey says. “Me.”

Lance wrinkles his forehead. “Really?”

“I guess,” Joey says and shrugs, and they sit there for a good five minutes, watching the neon green numbers climb slowly upward before tumbling back down to zero. “Because, um. I maybe once, with a guy. Maybe once.”

“Me too,” Lance confesses. “A couple times.”

“I tried not to think about it,” Joey says, staring at the white wall, and it’s strange how they’re talking to each other but not looking at the other, just sitting side by side, speaking in soft whispers and nervous confessions. “But it was all dragged up again. I don’t want to be. you know.”

“I know,” Lance says, nodding, “Oh, I know so much. I don’t either. It’s, like. Too much right now, and it’s not like it’s a new thing, either. It’s always been there, but I thought it was a phase. That’s what they say, a phase, you know?”

“Or experimenting,” Joey adds. “I know.”

Lance pulls at his hair with his delicate hands, and Joey finally looks at him. Lance’s eyes are wide and pale green, and Lance stares at him, worried and scared and everything Joey is himself. “JC’s gay. He says it’s not such a big thing.”

“Not for him, maybe,” Joey says, and Lance nods quickly. “It just changes things, you know?”

“I keep thinking it’ll go away.”

“But it never does.”

Lance shakes his head sadly. “No, it doesn’t.”

Joey rubs his arms, suddenly very cold, then he hugs Lance, not caring how gay it looks, but caring that he’s scared and messed up in the head and waking up with Chris on his mind and in his dreams every day for weeks. Lance hugs back, breathing steady.

“This guy, it isn’t JC, is it?” Lance asks, and Joey shakes his head. “Okay. Do you like your guy, like that?” Lance asks, and Joey nods his head. “Okay, then. I think you have to do what is right for you. If you like him, really like, gender shouldn’t matter anyway. Maybe, he’s your destiny or something, the one God picked out for you.”

“Maybe,” Joey agrees. “Thanks, Lance.”

Lance smiles. “No problem. It’s, like. cool. To know there’s three of us.”

“Yeah.”

Joey isn’t sure it’s his place to tell Lance that maybe there’s four.

~~~

Joey knocks on the door, and Justin answers it, giving the key back and looking sheepish. “You washed your hands, I hope,” Joey says, and Justin nods, breaking out into a huge grin. “Jesus, kid. You can do it if Lance is around, you know. You have a bathroom.”

“Jeez, no,” Justin hisses, like it’s so obvious why he wrangles Joey’s keys away from him more often than not, and it used to be really bad when he and Chris would go out together. Joey would come home and be able to smell sex in the room. Chris never seemed to notice, though. “He can hear me, and he doesn’t do it as much. It’s embarrassing, Joey.”

Joey swats Justin on the ass, and Justin gives him the finger, skipping off down the hall, and it’s only in that second pause when Joey feels sick and thinks he shouldn’t have done that. What if Justin thinks he’s a pervert when he finds out? Joey opens the door to his room and steps inside.

Chris comes back later, and Joey lifts his head wearily, dressed only in sweats. Chris smiles and locks the door with the chain behind before going into the washroom, shutting the door until only a sliver of light sneaks out. Joey rolls onto his back and waits.

“I got you a taco,” Chris says, handing Joey a small wrapped package, and Joey sits up, crossing his legs and taking it. “Mmm, German tacos, man. These things are impossible to find. I hope we don’t get food poisoning.”

“Wouldn’t mind a day off,” Joey admits, moving back a bit so Chris can sit down on his bed, and Chris does, folds his legs and grabs his own taco. There’s at least four more in the bag. Joey looks back up at Chris. “So.”

“So,” Chris says, munching on a taco, a couple strings of lettuce on his lips, and Joey doesn’t find it unattractive at all, even though when Justin speaks with his mouth full it’s repulsive. That’s the vital difference, and Joey’s belly unclenches finally. “You first. It was your pass at me that brought this on.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have sex with somebody,” Joey mutters, feeling the flush pass over his face.

Chris grins, eyes laughing beneath the floppy, greasy bangs that are always in his face when not pulled back by his stupid bandanas. “That I did. Still do, actually. Unlike you, I couldn’t even find a chick to reaffirm my heterosexuality with, so. Either I’m not as straight as originally assumed, or I’m a complete loser. Either way, it’s a sign.”

“You’re not a loser,” Joey says and chews on his taco, thinking it tastes pretty funky but not about to question it. There is a time and place for everything. Now is not the type to toss the taco in the garbage.

“Then I guess my entire world is turned upside down and I’m not straight,” Chris says quietly, reaching into the bag, loudly ruffling the paper, to grab another taco. Joey does the same. “Joey, I’ve never had to question that until now.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey says automatically, the shell of the taco breaking beneath his fingers, and he scrambles to grab the mess before it gets everywhere, pushing it all toward his mouth, and stopping only when Chris grabs his wrist. “What?”

“I just need you to stop acting like a fucking man and start acting like my friend. Talk to me, Joe. You think I’m not freaked? I am. Oh fuck, I am. I can’t tell you how not cool it is to be nearly twenty-five and realise you liked kissing your decidedly younger male friend.” Chris stands up and starts pacing, barely keeping on the ground. He’s so wild looking, with his wacky hair and crazy eyes. “Fuck, man. I should tell you not to bother with me at all, that I’m a freak and you deserve someone better. I should tell you how fucking straight I am. I should tell you all kinds of shit, man, but I don’t know what to say.”

Joey doesn’t say anything, knows better. This is Chris and his monologue, which will go on for hours if allowed. Joey sits back, rolling onto his side, and watches Chris speak, how he pauses dramatically and waves his hands and thumps his legs for emphasis. Part of Joey realises Chris isn’t all that hot, but the bigger parts like the ways his ears roll into a point and how his high-pitched voice sounds synthesised when he’s excited.

“And I don’t know how to have sex with a guy! Dude, you should have warned me or something because now I’m stuck in Germany with all my gay friends back in the States, well, save for C. But, like, ugh. I can’t ask him how to suck a dick, not after I’ve spent the last few months making fun of him. He can be such a spiteful bitch, you know. He’ll learn me wrong.”

Joey smiles and yawns, eyes dropping heavily as Chris walks around, waving his arms about. When he stops abruptly, Joey lifts his head slightly, confused, but Chris just turns the light off and jumps on his own bed, bouncing off it and onto the floor. Chris’s head pops up and looks Joey straight in the eye.

“Just let me figure out what I’m doing, okay? Just give me, like, a week, tops.”

Joey nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees and slides into his bed. “We cool?”

“So cool,” and Joey turns over, pretending to sleep. Pretty soon, Chris is snoring, and Joey is left awake, feeling rejected. Later still, he gets the tacos out of the fridge and eats them in the bathroom. When he’s done, he takes his dick in hand and jerks off. He hopes Chris doesn’t hear. Justin is right. It is embarrassing.

~~~

“We’re going out, get dressed,” JC says on their first of two nights free. Justin is down with the flu and is barely conscious, hacking and puking and whimpering. Joey looks up from the book he’s skimming, and Chris makes some noise of disbelief. “No, I’m serious. You complain I don’t go out. Well, we’re going. Lance, too.”

“Yeah, right,” Chris says, smirking. “Bible boy won’t go out.”

JC puts a hand on his hip and grins. “Chris, man. Leave it to me, all right? Bible boy will be the life of the party tonight.” JC smacks Joey on the shoulder as he sashays out of the room, turning down the hall to pressure Lance into leaving the hotel. Joey closes his book then stands up to shut the door. Sparing Chris a sideways glance, Joey gets into the shower.

The water is hot and hard on his back, and he soaps up and scrubs down, getting every last inch of skin until he’s squeaky clean. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he grabs his comb and a palm full of gel, styling as he exits the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” Chris asks, examining two different pairs of pants, one baggy jeans, the other tight leather. Joey takes a second to point to the leather before going to stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “Is this a. gay thing?”

“I think so,” Joey says, “he’s been trying, you know.”

Chris makes a sound deep in his throat then kneels by his bag, rooting around, and Joey watches him in the mirror, chokes back the noise when Chris pulls out what appears to be a thong. Chris looks up. “Hey, you. Don’t look. These pants chafe, and I. Fuck. These aren’t mine, Joe.”

“I own a pair, too,” Joey confesses, grinning.

Chris laughs and nods, standing up and walking into the bathroom, and Joey hears the shower start, relaxes slightly while he stares at himself in the mirror. His hair isn’t doing what he wants, and he needs to look good tonight, has to look good to Chris. Joey clenches his stomach.

Joey feels Chris behind him before he sees him, and Joey lifts his head, meeting Chris’s eyes. Chris is still wet above the waist, his hair a tangled mess, and he’s in the leather pants, though the top button is open. There’s a brush of dark hair that disappears into the shadows.

There’s nowhere to go when Chris drags a thumb across the line of skin above the edge of Joey’s towel, so Joey stands there, staring in the mirror, muscles tight. Chris unfolds his hand and lays the palm on Joey’s belly, breathing onto the back of Joey’s neck. Joey isn’t breathing at all. He doesn’t dare.

Chris tilts his wrist and his fingertips slip under the towel, just a little bit, and Joey tries not to watch them, wondering if they’ll go lower. It’s been five days since their talk, and this is the first move Chris has made. Joey wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen. He thought maybe Chris decided he was too straight.

Joey’s getting hard under the towel though he’s fighting it. He sees Chris’s eyes in the mirror, see them drop down, and Joey throws a hand over his face, embarrassed of the reaction. But Chris says -- “hey, hey” -- and Joey forces his fingers away, holding them out from his body.

“I think I’m going to. uh. let you get dressed,” Chris says suddenly, and Joey nods, forcing his shaky legs to walk to his pile of clothes. Chris circles him, quiet, and Joey looks up, his chest tight as Chris stares. It feels like the room’s spinning.

The pants go without much trouble, though Chris watches him and Joey tries not be self-conscious, and they fit snug, Joey knows they look good. Chris is still walking around him, eyes so dark and heady, and Joey twists with him, so turned on it hurts.

“Guys!” JC shouts through the door, banging hard, and Joey jumps, grabbing for his shirt and pulling it on, nearly ripping off his ears. Chris does the same, and they share a look before going for the door. Outside, Lance is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at his feet, and JC is grinning. “Ready to book it?”

~~~

Chris is staring at Lance, and Joey elbows him hard to make him stop. The street is already crowded, a cacophony of German words that make no sense, and Joey feels invisible, which is good. He doesn’t want the world to know how much his body is throbbing.

JC is talking to Lance, a hand curled against the small of his back, and Lance is smiling shyly, agreeing to calm down and try to have a good time. Lance looks back at Joey, and Joey smiles. Lance doesn’t look at Chris. Chris is still staring.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Chris asks for the fourth time, and JC nods, ignoring him, so Chris turns to Joey. “I don’t know, man. I’m getting kind of jittery here. I’m so. This is so not a cool crisis to have, man. I don’t know. Fuck.” His voice is a low whisper, nearly swallowed.

“We can go back,” Joey says quietly, and Chris shakes his head, looking away. They walk in silence until JC signals this is the place and brings them inside. It’s smoky, and loud, and almost all male. Joey feels like all eyes are on him.

JC grabs a table in the back and orders two pitchers of beer, sitting close to Lance, who is already red in the face and refusing to look at anyone. Chris is glancing around, eyes veiled by his wild hair, and Joey leans close to him to grab the beer from the waiter, who winks at Joey.

They drink for awhile, idly chatting, before Chris whispers -- “let’s dance, man” -- in Joey’s ear, all wet and hot and quiet. Lance looks up as Chris takes Joey’s hand, head cocked inquisitively, but Chris ignores it, and Joey pretends he doesn’t understand. Lance will figure it out.

The dance floor is crazy full, and even if Joey wanted some distance at first, it’s not allowed or Chris will be snatched away. There’s a moment where they don’t know what to do, a second where both of them wants the lead, but Joey gets shoved from behind, and Chris doesn’t move when Joey hits.

Joey doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he twists one in Chris’s black shirt and puts the other on Chris’s shoulder. Chris’s palm settles on Joey’s hip, the other on his arm, and, somehow, that works. When they find the beat, they move in synch, and it’s perfect.

It’s hot and crazy in this sea of men, and Joey glances back at the table, catches Lance’s eyes, and Lance knows, Joey can tell by the way he doesn’t blink, the way he looks surprised. JC just smiles knowingly, chin tucked over Lance’s shoulder. Joey turns back to Chris, who’s singing under his breath, eyes half closed.

Joey lifts his hand from Chris’s shirt to flatten against Chris’s chest, feeling for his heart, and there it is, beating hard. He slips a little lower and rubs a nipple, which is solid and peaked under the shirt. Chris shivers, rolling his head back, and Joey moves his hand again, folding over Chris’s throat. Chris’s eyes open and stare, all-knowing, at Joey’s face.

The hand on Joey’s hip tightens, and he moves forward, fitting their legs together. Where Joey is so hard that it’s obvious, Chris isn’t, and that’s disappointing, so much so that Joey actually pulls back, but the fingers on his arm dig into his skin, and Chris says, “I just have better control, man.”

“Then lose control,” Joey mutters, getting closer still, and there it is, the ripple of acquiescence as Chris exhales sharply, that hard heat pressing against Joey’s thigh. If there are people around them, Joey’s no longer aware of it, is only conscious of Chris, of his mouth and his hips.

Chris kisses him first, licking at Joey’s lips, and Joey opens his mouth, spreads, to let that wiggling tongue in. One of Joey’s rules about dancing is not making out on the dance floor, but that’s forgotten with Chris’s hand in his hair, nipping at his lower lip, tasting like beer and candy. Joey moans low in his throat and grinds his hips square against Chris, lets him know exactly what this does to him.

It’s the wettest, messiest, lewdest kiss Joey’s ever been involved in, and he’s going to come in his pants, he knows this and doesn’t care at all. Chris’s mouth is huge and demanding, his tongue is inside and gone, stroking and rubbing, and there’s just so much going on, so much movement and need and heat that Joey is dizzy with it.

The beat of the music crawls inside Joey’s skin, makes his body move like liquid, and he’s having sex on the dance floor, in front of everyone, with a man. He hid it before, was so ashamed of it, but right now, he’s not going to think about that. It’s carnal; it’s lust and desire, but it’s something huge. When Chris’s hand slips under the back of his shirt, Joey bucks back and bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood just to stop from creaming his pants. Chris stares at him and gets it, and the moment is gone.

They slink back to the table, and Lance is wide-eyed. Even JC looks a bit astounded. Joey downs half a pint of beer in one gulp, breathing hard, and Chris is hot and panting against him, staring into his cup. Joey wants to crawl on his lap and grind himself to oblivion. Instead, he touches his bruised lips, and wonders if his erection will ever go away.

They drink in silence for awhile, drink too much in too short a time, and Joey’s a little drunk, but he wasn’t out there, not at all. Lance is still looking at them with wonder, and JC’s idly stroking Lance’s hair, an arm bent behind Lance’s head, across his shoulders. Joey turns his head toward Chris, and Chris stares back.

They don’t dance for the rest of the night.

~~~

In the hotel room, the lights stay off, though the curtains are open. Chris’s pants are creaking with every step he takes, and Joey isn’t sure what to do with himself other than pull off his shirt. It’s awkward again, this question lingering between them, and Joey thinks, what if Chris really is straight? Joey is playing with fire, and he knows it.

“So, we gonna fuck or something?” Chris asks, rubbing his palms on his pants, jumping around from leg to leg. Joey shrugs, arms crossed over his chest, and Chris stops dead in place. “Oh. Well, okay. Uh. Sorry. I’m. sorry.”

“We can,” Joey says quickly, “if you think it’ll be cool.”

Chris nods, puffing out his cheeks before taking off his own shirt. “You realise I don’t have a fucking clue, right? I mean, I haven’t even experimented or anything. Dude, I haven’t been so virginal since I was fucking fourteen here. I really should have talked to C.”

“You can talk to me,” Joey says quietly. “Been there, done that.”

“You.” And Joey nods. “How far?”

Joey sits down the bed, bending forward to untie his boots, and Chris does the same, only quicker, before he pulls his legs onto the bed and folds his elbows against his knees. He’s trying to keep himself still, and Joey appreciates that. Chris is enough to make anyone uneasy.

“Actually, I don’t think I want to talk about it,” Joey says, pressing his hands together.

“Okay,” Chris says. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Joey mutters, “just. stop talking. It’s making it weird.”

“Dude, oh man. I don’t think I can shut up.” Chris tips his head, pressing his finger thoughtfully against his chin, before shaking his head. “No way, no. Too drunk, too fucking nervous, and well, ask any chick I’ve been with. It’s why no one sticks around. Freaks them the hell out, you know?”

Joey laughs abruptly. “You’re freaking me the hell out, Chris.”

Chris grins, ducking his head and laughing with his crooked teeth revealed, and that’s real, the open-mouthed laugh that no one ever sees because it’s Chris. Joey can’t help but mirror it, laughing at himself, at them. Chris slaps Joey’s thigh, squeezing. “We suck, man. We’ll practically screw on a dance floor, but the minute we’re alone, we’re like bashful schoolgirls.”

“God, what an image,” Joey says, smiling to himself, intensely aware of Chris’s hand on his leg. It isn’t moving away, and it’s hot, steaming through his pants. When Joey shifts, Chris moves his palm higher, and Joey takes a deep breath. “Uh. take off your pants.”

Chris rubs his nose before nodding, and he pulls them off quickly. They both wince at the sound the leather makes on his skin, and Chris hisses painfully but gets them off. Unable to not look, Joey smirks, and Chris rolls his eyes. “Fuck, I told you. Don’t stare at the underwear.”

“It’s sexy,” Joey says, honest, and Chris nods. Joey kneels up, takes off his own jeans, until he’s only wearing his briefs, and Chris looks at him, just a quick glance downward. It makes all the difference. “You cool to go?”

“Yep,” Chris says, and Joey crawls over to him, mouth open, and this is familiar. Chris leans up, meets his lips, and their tongues tangle desperately, wanting it all. Chris makes strange keening sounds in his throat, and Joey tries to taste them from the inside. Plus, it keeps him quiet.

Joey knows things about Chris because they’ve roomed together for months now, knows he prefers to have the girl on top, and Joey wonders if that’s the only reason Chris is allowing this. This shouldn’t be happening, yet it is. Joey slips onto his side, propped up by an elbow, and Chris rolls to meet him.

Chris shimmies his hips when Joey slides his fingers under the elastic of his underwear, snapping it against Chris’s pale skin while they kiss, deep and thorough. Chris’s hands seem lost on Joey’s body, resting in strange places, and Joey takes his hand and folds it against his dick.

Chris bites his lip and blinks. Joey expects him to say something asinine, like, “not wholly unpleasant,” or, “holy cock, Batman,” but he doesn’t. He just rubs his fingers over the line of Joey’s dick through his briefs, staring at Joey’s shoulder. When Joey hisses, Chris smiles a bit and nods like he’s proud of himself, and Joey snaps the sexy underwear a bit too hard.

It’s Chris who tugs Joey’s briefs down first, takes a deep breath and does it fast, and Joey lifts his hips, helping out. His cock is desperate, flopping all over the place, following Chris’s hand when it pulls his underwear off. Joey returns the favour, twisting his fingers in the small thong and sliding it down Chris’s hairy legs. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.

It’s not going to be some sweeping, romantic gesture. Joey’s still charged from the dancing, and Chris is too curious about this dick that isn’t his, scraping his thumb across the head of Joey’s cock. Joey can only hold onto Chris, stroking in a jerky, helpless rhythm. Their legs are twisting, their hips are thrusting in tandem, and Joey buries his face against Chris’s shoulder when he comes, making soft, painful sounds.

Chris lets go of him, his fingers sticky and wet, and Joey jerks him off quickly, to get his mind off it. Chris doesn’t last much longer, and he gasps a sharp breath when he comes, arching off the bed with one bent leg braced against the mattress. His fingers grab at air, and Joey keeps stroking until the shudders have passed.

Chris flops onto his back, and Joey grabs a wad of Kleenex, cleaning himself. Chris does the same then rolls onto his side, away from Joey, but when Joey tries to get up and go into the other bed, Chris twists back and grabs his wrist.

“Stay,” he says simply, and Joey nods. They slide under the covers, and Chris drapes himself half-across Joey, a hand tucked against his waist. Joey closes his eyes and hopes sleep comes quickly. It does.

~~~

Time starts to speed up again, and Lou’s managed to book four concerts in one day. Justin is crying in the corner, pretending he isn’t, and Lance looks crestfallen, sitting helplessly in the middle of the ratty couch after the third show. JC sits next to him, head on the armrest, eyes closed. Joey suspects he isn’t really sleeping.

“That fucking bastard, that fucking bastard,” Chris keeps saying, pacing the room, and Joey rubs his swollen ankle. He thinks he sprained it, but Lou says it can’t be that bad if Joey’s still standing. Joey is surprised he still is. “Are you okay, Joe?”

Joey looks up, dazed from the pain, and nods. “Yeah.”

After the fourth show, though, he’s so dizzy from the ache he sits down in the hall, just crumples in a heap and fights to catch his breath. The skin is puffy and hot, and it hurts to brush his fingers over it. Joey closes his eyes.

“Hey, come on,” Chris says quietly, hooking his arms under Joey’s armpits and tugging him to his feet. Joey sways unsteadily, his belly a rolling wave of nausea, and Chris slides under him, against him, bearing his weight. “You’re good, Joe.”

When Lou asks what’s wrong, Chris says Joey is just tired, and Joey nods, eyes barely open. Lou hems and haws, then tells them to get into the van. Outside, the air is cold, and Joey breathes it in, hoping to clear his head. Lance helps get Joey into the vehicle, and JC lets Joey lay his head in his lap. Chris climbs in last and slides next to Justin, who’s still crying.

~~~

Chris holds Joey’s foot in his hands for an hour, rubbing it gently, knowing the steady pressure makes it feel better. When Joey feels more comfortable, Chris wraps his ankle with a tenser bandage JC lent to the cause, and Joey exhales a sharp breath.

Chris stands up, drawing the curtains closed and locking up the room then turns the light on in the bathroom but keeps the door slightly open so just a sliver of bright yellow light escapes into the settling darkness. Chris hands unclasp the button on Joey’s pants then coaxes down the zipper, undressing him. Joey wishes he wasn’t in so much pain.

Kneeling over Joey, Chris helps him out of the shirt then lies him back down again, leaving him shivering in his boxers. Chris strips down and pulls up the sheets, sealing them together, snug and safe beneath them. Snuffling into Chris’s hair, Joey presses his eyes closed.

It doesn’t take much, just a gentle sweep of Chris’s hand down his back, and Joey feels the tears prickle, blinking them rapidly away. Chris makes a sound of comfort, and Joey presses his wet face to Chris’s chest, clutching at him.

“I want to go home,” Joey breathes in between the ragged sobs. “I want to go home.”

Chris’s arms tighten but he doesn’t say anything, just holds Joey until he cries it all out of him and falls into a deep sleep. The last thing Joey remembers is the salty taste of his tears on Chris’s pale, white skin.

~~~

Joey dances through the pain, even tells Lou once that he thinks he has a sprained ankle, but Lou just gives him a bottle of prescription painkillers that don’t have Joey’s name on them and tells him to deal with it. In the darkness of the bathroom, long after Chris is asleep, Joey takes two and hobbles back to bed.

Chris wakes up two hours later, and Joey is still lying there, staring at the ceiling. Chris pokes him in the stomach and mutters -- “go to sleep, dumbass” -- but Joey shakes his head, eyes wide open and darting all around.

“I think Lou poisoned me,” Joey says calmly, “I think he’s trying to kill me.”

Chris sits up quickly and walks to the bathroom then comes out waving the bottle of pills, Joey can hear them clacking against the plastic container. Chris turns on the bedside table light and reads the prescription while Joey stares, oddly awake and alert. Eventually, Chris gets back into the bed, sitting up with his back propped against the headboard.

“These things are laced with caffeine,” Chris says simply.

“Oh,” Joey says, sitting up too. “Well, my ankle doesn’t hurt.”

Chris hums, squeezing Joey’s leg just above the knee, and his hand is warm. Joey leans his head on his shoulder, sighing deeply, because Joey is tired, just can’t sleep, and Chris is obviously exhausted. After a few minutes, Chris turns on the television, flipping through the channels before coming across a flash of skin. Joey smiles. Chris can’t let nudity on television go unwatched.

“You know what’s really weird about this whole situation?” Chris asks, and Joey shrugs, not even sure which weird situation he’s talking about. “I still don’t really find other guys hot, like, save for you. And where sucking a dick wasn’t something I wanted to do, like, last month, I spent the day reading up on it.”

Joey blinks, watching Chris’s thumb stroke his skin. “You spent the day.”

“Reading up on it,” Chris repeats, watching the screen carefully as not to miss a thing, but Joey isn’t paying any attention to the people writhing on the screen. “I bought this, like, book. Last Saturday. I remember when I bought my first box of condoms. This was worse.”

“What sort of book?” Joey asks, turning over onto his side.

“The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio or something. I don’t know. It’s all in German, so I’m getting, like, half of it from their step-by-step list, but the pictures are okay, in a kind of not-you way,” Chris says, tilting his head to get a better look at the skin on the television, and Joey glances at them quickly. They’re nice tits. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No,” Joey admits, “not really.”

“I want to blow you,” Chris says simply. “But not with the light on, and I don’t swallow.”

“Okay,” Joey says and looks at Chris, who’s still staring at the television. Joey leans over him to turn it off then reaches behind Chris to flick off the lamp. When the room is dark, Joey pulls off his boxers, avoiding his sore ankle, and Chris shifts on the bed. Joey figures he’s getting undressed, too.

Chris drops onto the floor with a loud thump, and Joey moves to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs. He’s not hard, because this isn’t especially sexy, but he thinks he will be when he feels Chris’s breath on his inner thighs, hot and humid. When hands touch his hips then slide down to the patch of kinky hair between his legs, he know he will be.

Chris makes thoughtful noises in the dark, and Joey waits, knowing there’s a chance Chris is going to stand up and say he can’t do it. There’s a difference between handjobs and blowjobs, just like there’s a difference between going down on a guy and letting him fuck you. It’s all about extremes.

Chris grabs Joey roughly, and Joey winces but doesn’t stop him. This is so stupid to do without light, but Joey won’t complain about that, either. Somewhere along the line, Joey became desperate, and now he isn’t even fighting it. He just throws his head back and tries to remember the colour of the ceiling.

Chris’s mouth is somewhere near Joey’s dick because Joey can feel him breathing, but he’s not prepared when the flat of Chris’s tongue presses along the underside of his shaft and slides from root to head in one quick, wet, mind-blowing motion. Joey’s still only half-hard, but that helps a lot. He spreads his legs further, and Chris repeats the motion, laving the heated skin of Joey’s dick, tracing the vein.

Chris’s nose is whistling, which is comforting in how not attractive it is, and Joey hopes, if all else fails, Chris will still be his friend afterward. When Chris wraps his lips around the head of Joey’s dick and sucks hard, Joey can’t hear anything but the pulse of blood in his ears.

Chris tries to take him in deeper and gets Joey with his teeth, nips the skin so quickly Joey winces only afterward and the sting is quickly swallowed by mounting pleasure. His ass is clenching, unclenching, an ache deep inside him that Joey is more than happy to ignore. This experience will not be a repeat of prom night. Joey will not wake up the next morning, horrified and ashamed. Chris takes too much and gags, saying,

“Fuck, man. This is not as easy as those Germans seem to think it is. I’m really awful.”

Joey laughs lowly and blindly pats Chris’s head, catching the top of Chris’s ear. Chris dips his head again and returns to licking, applying just the right pressure, not like the girls who think a dick is breakable. When Joey enters his mouth again, it’s shallow but still so good.

Chris’s hands grabs what his mouth can’t, and Joey starts to thrust in between Chris’s stretched lips, just a little. Joey already knows where the Kleenex is and grabs a wad of it, fisting it between his fingers as Chris tongues the head of his dick, tracing the slit.

“Chris, pull back,” Joey says, his eyes rolling back in his head as his hips thrust again, going too deep, and Chris chokes, pulling off. When his fingers fall away, Joey grabs his cock and slides his finger along the shaft, bringing himself to the edge then over, coming into the pillow of tissues with a quiet groan.

When the moment’s passed, Joey can heard the slide of slick flesh, and he grabs blindly for Chris, knocking Chris’s hand away from himself. With a hand pressed flush against Chris’s chest, Joey pushes him back then lowers his mouth to his lap, laying his body flat on the ground.

Chris’s cock is hard as steel and makes up in width what it lacks in length, and Joey takes the head into him mouth, sucking it while his hands stroke Chris’s thighs, forcing them to part widely. Joey bobs his head, takes the thrusts when they ripple through Chris’s hips, and he swallows when Chris comes, his throat warm with it.

Joey sits up and wipes his lips on the back of his hand then stands up to go grab a glass of water from the bathroom, but Chris grabs him before he can move very far, hands secure on his waist. Joey blinks in the dark, nearly tripping backward when Chris presses his lip to Joey’s mouth, opening them to let his tongue snake out. Joey kisses back, spreads wide to let Chris into his body, and stops it only when Chris pulls back.

Joey gets his glass of water and washes the taste away in his mouth then stumbles back to the bed, honestly surprised to find Chris still in it. Joey settles against him, resting his cheek on slightly sweaty flesh, and falls asleep with a knot in his stomach.

~~~

Lou announces they’re going back to the states in a few weeks while BMG decides what to do with them, and then they’ll probably be back in Europe, travelling through Sweden and England as well as Germany. He gives them this happy news before he tells them their schedule, and Justin’s face falls first, then Lance’s. JC folds up the piece of paper and tucks it under his thigh.

“You’re going to work us to death,” Chris says through clenched teeth, and Lou stares at him, at his lost child. Lou bought Joey new sneakers and gave him back his solos, and he got them all a huge cake last week for being great on the one night that Chris was at the bank, trying to wire money to his mom. Joey saved him a slice, but Chris wouldn’t eat it. “Joey’s ankle is screwed up, and JC’s been sick for weeks. You’re trying to kill us.”

“I thought you understood how hard you need to work before you’re ready for America,” Lou says calmly, like he’s speaking to a little kid, and he moves to the door, talking back at him. “If you have a problem, we can discuss it in my room, Christopher.”

Chris stands up, fists twisted at his sides, and disappears into the hall, slamming the door in behind him. Joey stares at his hands, worried as hell for Chris and mad as fuck that Chris has to antagonise Lou every goddamn time. Chris doesn’t seem to realise this is Lou’s thing, not theirs. They’re just here because he says they can be.

“Will Chris be okay?” Justin asks in a small voice.

“He’ll be fine,” JC replies, sitting next to Lance, with his feet up on the coffee table, which is how Lance is sitting, too. “Chris is smart. He’ll do what’s best, even if he’s an idiot getting there. He won’t screw this up for us.”

“I’m so tired,” Justin confesses, leaning against Joey, and Joey lifts his arm so Justin can slide under it, nesting. He yawns big, all teeth and soft sounds, then rubs his nose. It’s not long before he falls asleep, snoring quietly into Joey’s side. Lance looks like he’s passed out, too, his head tipped back on the couch and breathing smoothly.

Later, Chris comes into the room, wearing his sunglasses despite the fact it’s nearly ten at night. He looks at Joey, and Joey gently pries Justin away from him, bringing his long legs onto the chesterfield and arranging his arms comfortably. JC looks up sleepily then rests his head back against Lance’s shoulder, drifting quickly off.

~~~

Joey follows Chris outside, shivering, then into the alley to the little crook in the building that keeps them sheltered from the people walking the street. It smells like garbage, but when Chris pulls a joint out of his back pocket, it’s just as well. Chris lights up and inhales a few times, blowing the smoke out through his nose, then passes it to Joey.

“Lou’s such a motherfucking bastard,” Chris says quietly, waiting for Joey to take a few puffs, and Joey does, holding the smoke in his lungs until it burns. “But we’re down to two shows a day for awhile, if he keeps his word.”

“How’d you manage that?” Joey asks, handing the joint back to Chris, and Chris sighs deeply, putting the roll to his mouth. He sucks on it, sunglasses a black strip across his face in the shadows, then swallows the smoke into him before giving it to Joey again.

“Blackmail,” Chris says, finally, after a long, long pause. “Seems he thinks I’m a fag.”

Joey frowns, smoke obscuring his view. “What?”

Chris taps the heel of his boot on the pavement, legs clad in black jeans. Joey gives the weed back to Chris, thinking he needs it more. “Lou seems to think I’m a faggot. I’ve been checking out JC or some fucking nonsense like that. So I told him I was, then said if he made a big deal about it that I’d fucking sue him into the ground. I read our contract. I didn’t understand much of it, but I know he can’t get rid of me for that. So, I don’t tell, and he gives you guys a break.”

“But you aren’t,” Joey starts, leaning forward.

“Aren’t what? Yes, I am. I fucking better be,” Chris says angrily, taking a long, deep drag and closing his eyes, fingers to his lips. “I’m a fucking faggot, Joey. A goddamn fairy, who prances on stage with a bunch of fucking kids and sounds like a fucking girl.”

Joey should be hurt, thinks he should be more than a bit put off by Chris’s comments, but he knows what it feels like to be afraid, to be unsure, to be tormented for not pursuing the more masculine activities in life. Joey never was very good at sports.

“It fucking figures, you know. I can’t do anything in life and not make trouble for myself. I was born, and I was a hassle.” Chris inhales sharply then touches Joey’s hand so his fingers spread and take the joint. “I have gay friends, you know, plenty of them, but I never once thought I was like that. I met Jayce, and I was, like, okay, he’s queer, but that was it.

“I’m an open-minded guy. I’ve done a lot of shit in my life which would probably make you blush, Joe. Even when those fuckers I went to high school with were trying to kick my pansy ass around, I knew it didn’t matter for shit what they said because I knew the truth,” Chris says, watching as Joey takes the last toke then flicks the waste away, and Joey looks up at him, back pressed against a damp brick wall.

“I don’t see why it fucking has to matter who I go to bed with,” Chris says and takes off his sunglasses, holding them in his small hands. Joey looks at them first then at Chris’s face, which is calm, controlled, like he’s barely there at all. “I hate not knowing what I’m doing, Joe. I hate knowing you’re afraid I’m going to wake up and realise two dicks don’t figure into my equation. I hate that I can’t tell you that maybe this is going to freak the hell out of me and I’m going to look the other way, at some girl, who’s safe and feminine and everything you’re not.”

Joey looks to the ground, to the litter scattered all around, to the filth collected in the corner of the enclave, to the scuffed toes of his boots. He glances up when Chris lights another joint, his face eerily lit by the small flame dancing from the silver lighter.

“I don’t know why you’re even still here, Joe,” Chris says, a hand tucked against his waist while the other moves to his mouth, and he breathes in sharply, fingers moving across the line of his belt. Joey watches the fingernails scrap over leather. “I’ve said so much shit in the past five minutes that you must think I’m a fucking bigot or something.”

“You’re scared,” Joey says, standing up a tiny bit straighter. He looks around, half expecting someone to be listening, but they’re alone. A little bit up, near the road, people walk by, but here, in the shadows, they’re both hidden from the world. “I understand that.”

“I don’t,” Chris admits, “I don’t at all.”

Joey takes a deep breath and accepts the joint when it’s passed to him, liking the light feeling in his head, the hunger in his belly. He feels calm and relaxed, languid, fearless. The smoke goes into his body, burning his throat, but it’s a good feeling. “Do you remember Brian Ellis? Worked at Universal with us.”

“Sure. Nice guy, a bit quiet, but nice,” Chris says, arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, and he looks taller, all stretched out and dressed in black. He looks good, Joey thinks, he always looks good, even when he doesn’t.

“We went to school together,” Joey explains, inhaling another drag of warm smoke into his lungs. Tomorrow, his voice is going to be shit, but he doesn’t care. He’s only nineteen years old. He still needs time to be a kid. “He had the hottest girlfriend, man, we’re talking all legs and this rack that, like, fuck. I had a hard-on whenever I saw her.”

Chris grins. “That nice?”

“Dude, you could fucking come in your pants if she looked at you right,” Joey says, smiling to himself. “Me and him double-dated with his girl and Kelly on prom night, split the limo and took our dates to it in style. It was the fucking greatest night of my life, danced, laughed, had a fucking great time.”

“My prom was shit,” Chris admits, “but I got so wasted it didn’t matter.”

Joey nods, handing Chris back the joint, and Chris lifts his fingers, lets them tangle with Joey’s, before taking it, placing it against his lips. Joey kicks at the garbage, hands pressed back against the damp, mouldy wall. “After party, man. I was trashed half an hour in, completely out of my mind. Kelly ditched me for a party a few blocks away, but I was having the time of my life, and I didn’t care.”

Joey licks his lips, tapping his fingers against the brick, and they’re numb, cold in the wet weather. It’s starting to rain, but they’re out of it, protected by the dent in the building. Joey is sure he can hears rats, squeaking in the dumpsters. He pushes back his hair with a shaky hand, declining the marijuana when Chris offers it back.

“I ended up in one of the bedrooms upstairs because it had a bathroom and I was convinced I was about to blow chunks everywhere. I was so fucking sick, man, I was green,” Joey says, grinning, and Chris laughs, waving the smoke away from his face. “Brian found me squeezed between the toilet and the tub, immediately making fun of me for being such a lush.”

“Like he could hold his liquor,” Chris says, “I remember him at the Christmas party.”

Joey nods, moving his hands from the wall to tuck them into the pockets of his jeans, back pressed against the wall, legs crossed out in front of him. “We got to talking. His girl left him too, so we were both alone. I don’t know who started it, I can’t remember, but one minute we’re talking about this gay guy two grades below and the next we’re kissing. I keep thinking there should be something else, but I just can’t remember.”

Joey ducks his head, the rain coming down hard now. “It wasn’t comfortable on the tile, so I went to the bed and he locked the door behind him. I hadn’t ever done anything like that before; I didn’t know why I was doing it, but I. I just didn’t want to say no. I was so drunk. It seemed like such a harmless thing.”

Two couples walk by, hand in hand, and Chris tucks the joint behind his back while Joey stares at his feet until they’ve passed then looks up, catching Chris’s steady eyes. “We were making out, like, heavy, and his hand’s on my stomach, moving and I’m just. letting him do all this shit. He gets my shirt off, takes off his own then his hand is down my pants, jerking my dick, and I’m into it. I’m so fucking hard. Yeah, I’m freaking out because this is a guy and, worse, a friend, but I’m so into it that I don’t care. I ask him if I can suck his dick, and he says I can.

“I don’t know why I asked. I’d thought about it, what it’d be like, but they were just thoughts, that’s it, yet I’m taking off his pants and I see his cock and I just. put it in my mouth,” Joey explains softly, the entire left side of his body drenched from the downpour, and he’s cold, shivering deep inside his skin. It doesn’t matter. “We’re both so drunk that it’s amazing we can even get it up at all, but he’s saying my name, and I’m sucking him off, fuck, I’m liking it, and he pushes me off, panting hard. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

Chris finishes the joint and tosses it into the rain, and they both watch it float away into the sewer. It’s late now, probably near midnight, but Joey doesn’t care, and Chris is standing back, listening, body still and poised.

“But he says, can I fuck you?” Joey presses his fingers into his thighs, staring at the dirty ground, feeling like dirt himself. “And I say, yeah. I was so into it, I wasn’t thinking about anything but my dick and how I was feeling. I wanted something more, and I. I said yes. I wasn’t gay. I kept thinking that, over and over again, kept thinking that it didn’t mean I was gay.”

Chris nods, fingers pressed to his mouth.

“We both had condoms, but we didn’t have anything else. He goes into the washroom and gets this face cream shit, and it’s got to work because it’s not like either of us thought we’d be fucking in some guy’s guest room. I was, like, scared to death that he didn’t know what he was doing, but he just says, Joe, I’m gay. I thought you knew. I didn’t fucking know,” Joey says, taking his hands out of his pockets and tucking them under his arms.

“It fucking hurt at first. I thought I was being split in two, and I was just. It was agonising, but I wouldn’t let him stop. I thought it’d explain something to me, that if it stayed shitty then that I meant I was straight. As long as it felt like I was dying then I was all right.” Joey bites his lip, breathing deep. “Then he hit this spot, and it just. He’s fucking me, and I’m begging for it. It was amazing, to have this other person in you, and I’m just. asking for him to fuck me. I’m so fucking drunk. I wanted to pretend I didn’t know what the fuck I was saying, but I knew. We fucked all night, and next morning, I woke up before him, got dressed and never talked to him again.”

Chris tips his head, and Joey moves to step out into the rain, understanding he gave too much, but Chris catches him by the belt loops, his index finger hooked into Joey’s pants. Joey goes when Chris tugs him, fits their legs together, and Chris presses a hand against his belly. “It won’t end like that with us, okay?”

“You’re going to wake up one day and leave me,” Joey says quietly, “and I’m going to let you because I did it to him.” Joey tries to pull away, but Chris yanks him hard, so their chests bump together. “Chris, fuck. This is too damn complicated.”

“Maybe I like it complicated,” Chris says and leans up, breath smelling like weed and warm despite the freezing rain, and Joey parts his lips, allows him in, lets Chris push him back against the wall, an icy hand smoothing up his spine, under his shirt. Chris breaks the kiss. “And thank you for telling me, man. I was wondering.”

“I know,” Joey says, and lets Chris kiss him in the rain until nothing matters anymore.

~~~

Justin disappears after the last show on a Friday, and they’re all tired and miserable and have to go look for him. Chris and JC go one way, Lance and Joey take the other. They start at the top floor and work their way down, trying to guess at his hiding places.

“Justin has a girlfriend,” Lance says suddenly. “I’m not supposed to tell.” Joey stops and turns to look at Lance, who’s staring at his hands, and when he looks up, Joey narrows his eyes. “What? I’m telling you. He doesn’t get to see her a lot. I said I’d cover him.”

Joey laughs wearily and slides down the wall, resting his arms on his knees. Lance sits down beside him, chewing on his bottom lip. “I guess you figured out me and Chris are doing something, right?” Joey asks, and Lance nods.

“After that club, yeah,” Lance mutters, sitting cross-legged. “I didn’t know he.”

“He doesn’t,” Joey says, “just me.”

“Oh.” Lance unties his shoelace then ties it back up again, and Joey watches him, waiting for Lance to continue. Lance rubs his nose and looks up at Joey. “That’s kind of. I don’t think I could,” Lance corrects himself, looking so fucking young. “Is it real?”

“I hope so,” Joey says, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to rest. He can’t even muster the energy to be angry at Justin. “He’s trying. I mean, it’s not like we don’t do stuff or anything. He’s terrible at sucking cock, but he tries, is willing to try, so that’s something, right?”

“I’m not very good either,” Lance admits, grinning.

Joey laughs. “God, man. We’re sitting here, talking about sucking dick.”

“You brought it up,” Lance says, leaning back against the wall. “Are you going to be okay about whatever it is Chris is doing?”

“Yeah,” Joey says, “because whatever it is he’s doing, I’m doing it back.” Joey pauses and looks at his watch. “How long do you think Justin’s going to need?”

Lance grabs Joey’s wrist and peers at the clock. “Oh, like, only another ten minutes or something. Pretty soon. He just. wanted time with her, you know. He really likes her a lot, though he says they’ve agreed to break up when we go back home. She sounds sweet.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Joey asks, scratching his chin.

“I don’t know,” Lance admits. “I have no idea.”

~~~

Chris gets weird about things a few days later. Joey starts noticing him doing strange things, like washing Joey’s laundry for no reason or coming up behind him and tucking a hand into his back pocket and squeezing -- “nice ass, Fatone” -- and not taking his hand off. Sometimes, he wraps an arm around Joey’s waist, and they kiss whenever they’re alone, sometimes for a long time but sometimes just for a second.

“He’s fucking with my head,” Joey says to the wall one day, just to say it out loud.

Chris is getting better at giving head, too. Joey catches him talking to JC, and from the faces they’re making, he knows Chris has finally abandoned his book and gone to JC instead. When Joey finds two mangled carrots in the garbage, he isn’t sure whether to laugh or be very afraid. When Chris’s mouth is on his belly that same night, he freezes.

Joey is breathing hard, blessing the absence of teeth, and thrusting his hips in tiny, sudden movements, very, very careful of Chris. It’s still not that great, but it’s a definite improvement over two days ago, when Chris gagged so hard he burst the blood vessels in his left eye.

The room is so quiet and dark, and Chris’s skin is hot, a little bit damp, and his arms are hooked over Joey’s thighs, his fingers snaking through dark kinky hair and squeezing the base of Joey’s dick, in complete control of the situation. Chris is humming, deep in his throat, and Joey bucks his hips, liking that new technique.

“Wait, wait,” Chris says, pulling his mouth off Joey’s cock, and Joey actually moans at the loss. Chris kneels over Joey, his dick hard and right there, so Joey touches his tongue to it, laughs when Chris pushes his head away. “Jesus, Joe, just give me a second. There!”

The light turns on, and Joey stares at him, sees the sticky, swollen lips. He almost comes right there on the spot, thinking, so this is what it looks like when Chris is turned on. Chris peers at him then climbs back down, sliding his hot, slick body across Joey’s groin, and Joey catches his breath in his throat, about to explode.

“I can’t fucking see what I’m doing,” Chris says by way of explanation, and the sight of his lips around Joey’s cock, taking him deeper than ever before, more than makes up for the fact Joey still has teeth marks on his dick. In the light, it’s the sexiest thing Joey’s ever seen, and only slightly less so when Chris chokes as Joey comes, spitting into a wad of Kleenex. At least Chris looks apologetic when he climbs back into bed.

~~~

Justin and Lance aren’t blond enough, so Lou drops them all off at a drugstore and says he’ll be back in an hour. Joey’s already bored and they’re only walking through the door, but they split up and Joey wanders over the find some razors. He doesn’t want to say so, but he thinks that within the next year he’s going to finally get all that Italian body hair he’s been warned about.

“Hey,” Chris says, grabbing the cheapest pack on the shelf, and Joey does the same, even though he can afford better. Chris taps the package of razors against his thigh and looks around before adding, “you want me to get some rubbers?”

Joey hesitates but nods, knowing this was coming but didn’t think it’d come so soon. He just knew eventually Chris would need to try more, and Joey’s already proven he’ll put out. For some reason, thinking about this makes him sad, but he says, “okay,” anyway.

Chris nods, too, then looks around again and gets really close, like the next question is life or death, and Joey hopes it’s something really important, but it’s just, “and lube?” And he hisses it out slowly then actually blushes, which is weird to Joey because Chris doesn’t blush. Justin tried once for six days straight with no success.

“Yep,” Joey says, tries to keep from smiling, and Chris bumps their hips, grinning. Joey laughs loudly, shoving him away, and Chris steals a kiss, right there, where anyone can see. Joey stares at him and doesn’t know what to think anymore. Chris slaps his ass and walks away.

Joey goes to look for shampoo and finds Lance looking at conditioner, a box of bleach sitting next to his foot. Lance looks down at it and sighs tragically, “he wants me platinum, Joey. I’m going to look so stupid. I think my hair’s going to fall out, too.”

Joey rubs his fingers over Lance’s hair and winces. It’s dry and crinkly and Joey looks for the conditioner Janine uses since she started going to grey when she was twenty. Everything’s in German, but the red bottle looks familiar. “Here, man. It’ll make it feel better.”

Lance smiles thankfully, and Joey grabs a couple bottles of shampoo and goes to find a basket to hold all his stuff. He spots Justin hovering near the baby diapers, looking around, and he jumps when Joey comes up behind him with a, “hey, Justin.”

“Jeez!” Justin cries. “Don’t sneak up on me, man!”

“What are you doing?” Joey asks, “you didn’t knock up your girl already, did you?”

“Not so loud,” Justin hisses, “and how do you know about that?” He pauses then his face twists and he stamps his foot on the ground. “Lance! I swear, he can’t keep his fat mouth shut about anything. He’s such a big blabbermouth.”

Joey can hear Chris talking to JC in the other aisle, and Joey pauses then grins. Justin looks at him, lips twisted in a pout, and Joey reaches over to mess up his curls. “If you can’t buy them, kid, you shouldn’t be having sex.”

Justin blushes. “Shut up. I’m not. Shut up!”

“You thinking about it?” Joey asks, and Justin looks around then shrugs, looking miserable. He’s too young, Joey thinks, but knows he doesn’t really mean it. Joey slept with his first girl when he was fifteen, too. “Come on, man. Let’s go get you some protection.”

Justin sighs but lets Joey lead him to the condom section, even though he tries to escape when Chris and JC see him, both looking at him with narrow eyes. Joey tightens his grip on Justin’s shoulders, his other arm full of shampoo and razors.

“Well, isn’t this just a party?” Chris says wryly, four boxes of condoms in his hands, and Joey eyes them with a smirk. Chris looks down and sighs, and Joey wants to kiss him but doesn’t. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m comparing brands, man. I’m not that overeager.”

“Are you having sex?” JC demands, and Justin slinks back.

“Just because you were, like, eighteen, doesn’t mean the rest of didn’t get it on earlier,” Chris says, messing up JC’s hair to calm him down, and JC narrows his eyes then grins hugely. “Let’s see. You need ones with spermicide, kid. No babies, okay?”

Justin shifts under Joey’s palm, sighing deeply. “Okay, okay. No babies. I get it.”

“Ribbed for her pleasure,” JC says, dreamily.

“I’m trying to see if they sell them in extra small for our bouncing baby boy,” Chris says, and Justin punches him in the arm, grumbling. Joey tries to bite back the laughter, but Justin is a sensitive kid and socks him one in the belly. “Hey, don’t bruise the goods, kid. I have to see that guy everyday. I want him to be pretty.”

“Pretty boy,” JC says, laughing, and Justin punches him, too.

Joey swoons. “Oh, Justin, my hero.”

“Stop making fun of me!” Justin cries, “you’re all a bunch of fuckers. This is why I didn’t want you to know. jeez!” Justin stomps away, nearly knocking over Lance who stares at them then looks at Chris’s four boxes of condoms and turns around to leave.

They rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to deal with Justin and do a group apology, and Joey loses, his rock getting covered by two papers. Joey finds Justin in the herbal remedies aisle, looked pissed off, and Joey sighs.

“Justin, you know we’re just ribbing you,” Joey says quietly, rubbing his back, and Justin relaxes a bit, drooping his shoulders. “This is a big step in your life, man. I’m not one to talk, but I hope this girl is special. We’ll like her, if you would just let us meet her.”

“I probably won’t sleep with her,” Justin says, sighing deeply. “But I just. I feel really left out, Joey. It’s not fair.”

“Left out from what?” Joey asks.

Justin rolls his eyes. “Joey, for Pete’s sake, I’m not an idiot, okay? You’re all gay, and I’m not, and like. It’s totally not fair at all. It just makes me so mad. It’s just. It isn’t fair,” Justin says again, pursing his lips together and staring at the shelf.

Joey looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“This is what I mean! Y’all won’t even tell me you are. I just have to guess, and if I ask, JC says something like love is love, and gender’s nothing, and fuck. I know that. I won’t hate y’all or anything. It’s this huge secret you’re not telling me, and I hate that,” Justin says, shoving half-heartedly at Joey’s shoulder.

“I’m not gay,” Joey says.

“Or bi, or whatever,” Justin amends, grabbing a couple bottles of vitamins then trying to walk away but Joey follows him, stops when they get to the makeup aisle. Justin marches up to the chapstick display. “Y’all are lying to me, every time you speak to me.”

“I don’t know what I am,” Joey says quietly, and Justin looks at him, head tilted inquisitively. Joey shuffles his shampoo bottles and drops the package of razors. He bends down to pick them up but Justin does it first. “I’m just really confused right now.”

“What does it matter, who you like? I hear Chris, talking to JC sometimes, when they think I can’t hear, and he freaks about it, about you.” Justin lifts his eyes, and suddenly looks a lot older than fifteen. “I want Lance to stop crying when he prays because he thinks God’s mad at him because he happens to love a guy, when it’s all just love in the end. And Joey, I want you to stop freezing when you touch me because you think you’re some sort of pervert or something, when you’re not at all because it’s normal. I miss you guys. Y’all went far away, and fuck.” Justin drags the back of his hand across his face, sniffling. “I hate that I cry all the time. I’m so sick of this shit. I just want to go home.”

Justin rubs at his eyes, and Joey grabs him in a big hug, just crushes Justin completely. Justin sniffles miserably, wiping his face on Joey’s shirt, and Joey looks up to see Chris standing at the end of the aisle, watching them. He approaches slowly, his shoes squeaking across the floor, and Justin looks up, face twisted in a knot of worry.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Chris says.

“I know,” Justin mumbles, dragging his hand across his face. “I still gotta get some stuff.”

Chris watches Justin walk away, and Joey sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Is he okay?” Chris asks quietly.

And Joey answers, honestly, “I don’t know.”

~~~

Chris is the most fitful sleeper Joey’s ever shared a bed with, but it’s worth it to have that pressure wrapped around him at night, all heavy and damp and soft, even though Joey wakes up with bruises on his shins. In his head, he’s started calling Chris his boyfriend.

Justin is still sullen and withdrawn, and Joey tries to spend as much time with him as possible, attempting to talk to him about his girlfriend, but Justin just shrugs his wide shoulders and says it’s not such a big thing. Joey buys him condoms anyway, and a thing of spermicide, just in case, and tells him about the dangers of sex and why he should be careful.

“My mom would kill you if she knew about this,” is all Justin says once Joey’s explained it all to the best of his ability, tells him how to suckle a girl into orgasm, how to be careful if she’s a virgin, how to touch her so she doesn’t pull away. “Totally slaughter you to pieces.”

Of course, Joey also thinks his mother would kill him if she knew Joey was sleeping with Chris, but he doesn’t want to mention that. He’s not entirely sure how much Justin knows because Justin isn’t talking, and neither is Joey.

~~~

Lou and Chris get into their biggest fight yet, with Chris’s voice echoing down the hall while Joey sits on the ugly orange carpet, back against the wall, outside the closed door with Justin leaned against him on one side, JC and Lance on the other, their fingers barely skirting each other on the floor. It’s four in the morning.

The door flies open, and Chris comes out screaming, “fuck you, Lou! Fuck you!”

“You’ll do what I say,” Lou says calmly, walking past them then stopping when Chris does, stepping back as Chris approaches. In a fight, Joey thinks Chris’s wiliness and stubborn determination will win over Lou’s extra pounds and added height.

“I’ll fuck every man from here to England,” Chris snaps back, hands up in the air, fingers spread like claws. “I’ll take them back to my room and let them do it to me up the ass until I can’t stand anymore and you’ll have to explain why the poor little faggot can’t dance! Everyone will know, Lou, and they’ll laugh at you.”

Lou opens his mouth then seems to notice the four of them on the floor, narrows his eyes and points at Chris before going into his room, slamming the door. Chris kicks it when it’s locked, smacking his palm against the wood before turning to look at them, eyes wild and crazy, shaking like a bomb about to blow.

Chris looks down suddenly, his face dropping, then he marches into their room, leaving the door open. Joey follows, signalling to the others it’s okay if they go back to sleep. Inside, Chris is sitting on the bed, his face in his hands.

“What was that about?” Joey asks, pulling off his white tank then scratching his belly, wandering over to the bed, and he thinks about touching Chris then thinks, no. Chris initiates; Chris sets the pace. Joey is only here for the ride. “Chris?”

“Just shit. It’s taken care of,” Chris says, “you wanna fuck me?”

Joey snaps his head up quickly, looking at the wall. “What?”

“You wanna fuck me?” Chris repeats and gets up, grabbing one of the boxes of condoms and pressing his thumb into the perforated half-circle, tearing open the end. He takes out a plastic square and holds it between his fingers. “Do you want to stick your dick in my ass and fuck me?”

“No,” Joey says, “fuck you,” and he turns away to grab his pillow. “I’m going to JC’s room, Chris. I can’t. Fuck you! I can only put up with so much of your fucking internalised homophobia bullshit until it starts getting to be too much, okay? If you hate the fact you like cock so much, leave me out of it! I can’t take this.”

Joey’s halfway to the door when Chris steps in front of him, daring him to take those last three feet, and Joey shoves him hard out of the way. “I didn’t mean it,” Chris says quietly, pressed against the wall. “You know I don’t mean shit like that. He just. He’s making this into a political thing for me, and I don’t want it to be.”

“You’re sleeping with me to get back at Lou?” Joey asks, reeling back.

“No! No,” Chris says, “no, I’m with you because I want to be with you, because I chose to be with you, man. You know I did. He’s just making me make it into some sort of quest, and it’s pissing me off. He wants C and I to get girlfriends. Because we’re dating each other.”

Joey smirks, tries to stop himself but can’t, and Chris touches his fingers to the inside of Joey’s wrist, stroking the soft skin. “How the fuck did he get on that, anyway?”

Chris shrugs. “I don’t know. Like, C. I love him, but I’d kill him.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you right now,” Joey says, and Chris nods.

“I know.” Chris takes his hand. “Come to bed.”

And Joey goes because he can’t say no, and Chris always smells so nice.

~~~

It’s just another week and then they’ll be home. Joey is looking forward to it, wakes up every morning, stretches and thinks about his bed, and his messy room, and his house with the slanted fence and big garden. Chris is already talking about how boring it’s going to be now that all of his friends are underage again, but Joey just smiles, listening to him complain.

It’s getting warmer, and the rain is starting to fall. They’re down to one or two shows a day, always indoors where the sound is crappy and the room too hot despite the weather outside. Joey’s ankle is a chronic problem, and Chris’s hands feel like they belong on it, thumbs digging into his skin. As thanks, Joey goes down on him more often than not, though he’d do it anyway just to hear Chris swear and laugh and groan.

“Yeah, that’s. You’re really good at this,” Chris says one particular night, like this is a new realisation, and Joey laughs around Chris’s dick in his mouth, careful not to choke. Chris pats his head and spreads his legs wider, and Joey thumbs the patch of skin behind his balls, drawing circles. “Admit it, man, I am getting better.”

Joey pulls off, circling the head of Chris’s dick with his tongue, and Chris lurches, groaning low in his throat. “You’re getting better,” Joey admits, his fingers working Chris’s shaft, and Chris shimmies his hips, running his palms over the blankets. “You like it?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Chris says, “you taste good, Joe. All over.”

Joey grins and deep-throats Chris, a nice and new talent, and Chris throws his back, saying, “fuck, fuck, fuck” over and over again. Chris is close to coming, pretty much there already, and Joey decides to bring him over, pulling back to suckle on the head while his thumb dips lower, pressing against the tight ring of muscle.

Chris freezes. “Uh, Joe.”

“Shh,” Joey says, pushing in slow, steady beats, grazing the surface and staying outside. Chris is tight but relaxing again, his knees drawing even further apart, and Joey drops his mouth down, past the balls, to the puckered hole, a long tongue snaking out.

“You fucking kinky bastard!” Chris yelps, thumping his fists on the bed, but he likes it, Joey can tell in the way he thrashes, keening high in that instant before Joey’s tongue circles and pokes in. Chris clasps his hand over his mouth, and screeches, coming all over his stomach and Joey’s fingers.

“Well, that was fun,” Joey says, wiping his mouth on a Kleenex, and Chris says,

“Hoo boy, yeah,” like it means everything. Later, after Chris has kissed down his whole body and brought him to the edge of orgasm twice, Chris tries the same thing with him, Joey realises it means more than he can say. It mostly means: it’s all right, that Chris is learning, that maybe he won’t disappear. When Joey falls asleep, the knot in his belly is that much smaller, and it’s shrinking everyday.

~~~

Justin walks in on them the first time Chris lets Joey put fingers in his ass at Chris’s own request, and it’s messy because Chris demands half the tube of lubricant, all over the place. Chris thinks it feels neat and smears it all over Joey’s chest and arms, and Joey’s glistening in the half-light, two fingers gliding easily into Chris’s body, twisting in corkscrews to make him writhe.

“Oh, man!” Justin cries, slamming the door, and Joey hopes he doesn’t go running to his mother. Chris is lying back with his hand folded over his eyes, moaning in that frustrated way he does when things don’t go like he wants, and Joey looks around for his pants.

“Did he know about us?” Chris asks, tying the sweats around his waist and shrugging into a sweatshirt, walking out the door barefoot, and Joey follows, trying to make his fingers stop glistening. When Chris turns to look at him, Joey nods. “Well, okay. That helps. Shit.”

“Oh, man,” Justin says again when Chris walks through the door, and Lance looks up from the desk, a pen in his hand. “Oh, man,” Justin says a third time, drawing it out, and Chris sits down on the bed beside him. “Don’t you look at me like that, man!”

“You saw nothing,” Chris says, his jedi mind trick voice, and Joey grins to the wall, turning away or he might snort the laughter through his nose. “You walked into our room, and Joey and I were reading books and folding our laundry.”

Lance smiles. “What were they doing?”

“Nothing,” Chris says, and Justin shouts, “finger-fucking!”

Joey finally laughs, slapping a hand against his face, and Chris groans loudly as JC walks into the room, a strange look on his face. “Uh,” he says, watching as Lance dissolves into heaving gasps of laughter. Justin’s rolling on the bed, whimpering. “Dare I ask?”

“Justin walked in on Joey and I reading books and folding our laundry,” Chris says seriously, and JC coughs. “Or maybe something. Naked.”

Lance tucks two fingers between the O created by his fingers and thumb on his other hand, and JC is gone, smacking his hands against his thighs before slipping to the ground. Chris sighs loudly, looking for pity, and Joey folds over him, patting his chest.

“They’re just jealous,” Joey whispers, and Chris grins, rolling his eyes, but he really means it. He looks at Chris until Chris looks back with something akin to understanding, and Chris lifts his hand, folding it behind Joey’s neck. They kiss.

It’s the first time they’ve all seen, seen that somewhere along the way it got complicated, more than a friend helping another friend out, more than experimental queer sex, more than all of that. Joey smiles and looks away, and Chris leans into him, like they’re not just a ball of confusion and bad sex. Somewhere along the way, Joey thinks he fell for Chris, and now, with the taste of Chris’s lips still lingering on his, Joey is sure of it, and he’s okay with that.

~~~

“Do you think they’ll keep us on?” Joey asks the night before they’re supposed to be heading back home. Chris is packing the last of his clothes into his suitcases, these old and ugly things, and he tilts his head thoughtfully before breaking into a huge grin and nodding. Joey laughs and lays back, relieved. “It’s been a wild ride, man. I never thought I’d make it.”

“Fucking craziest time of my life,” Chris agrees, locking his bags closed then he stands up, looking around, and Joey watches him quietly, grins when Chris crawls between his legs and puts his palms flat on Joey’s belly. “I think I’m bi, Joey. Like, really. I think I always have been.”

“I sure hope so,” Joey says then adds, “me too.”

“And JC is hot, but he’s still not my type,” Chris says with a smirk, and Joey throws his head back to laugh full and loud. Joey strokes his fingers through Chris’s hair, getting caught on the tangles, and Chris looks up at him. “Thank you, man, for putting up with me and my issues and my lousy cock-sucking abilities. I was freaked the hell out when I realised what you were offering me, but not as bad as when I realised I wanted it, too.”

“I know,” Joey says quietly, as much to Chris as to himself, and Chris nods, pushing his hands up Joey’s stomach, fingers curled. “What’s going to happen when we get back to Orlando, Chris? We might not come back here. They might not want us.”

“Spend a hell of a lot of time in my apartment, fucking,” Chris says and smirks, one corner of his mouth turned up. “We’re going to do it on my kitchen table because that’s fucking cool. And in my shower because that’s cool, too. And in my bed because, fuck, it’s proper.”

Joey laughs. “You treat me too well.”

“You betcha,” Chris says and slaps Joey’s belly lightly. “Now get dressed. We’re all going out tonight for one last German hurrah. Guess what I got Justin?” Chris reaches into his back pocket, pulling out an ID, and Joey hums appreciatively. It looks good, real. “Maybe, you know, he’ll forgive us for scarring him.”

“Maybe,” Joey agrees, and gets dressed. They’re both smiling.

~~~

“Oh, man, this is so cool,” Justin exclaims, a bounce in his step that hasn’t been there in weeks, and he looks legitimately excited. Joey folds his hand over his shoulder, if only to hold him down, and Justin beams. “Where are we going?”

“Your choice,” JC says, smiling kindly.

Justin tilts his head then nods. “Okay. Take to me to where you all go, when you ditch me and make me spend the night with my mom. That’s not cool, guys. She makes me read books and shit, and watch girly-ass movies that make her cry. I want to see why I’m doing it.”

“Kid,” Chris says, but Justin holds up a hand.

“Fuck off! My choice, JC said. And I say, take me to where you go. I’ll be fine,” Justin adds, eyes narrow. “And I want you guys to have a good time, too. I just want to drink and dance, so I don’t care. So, show me. Stop leaving me out. Please. Joey, please.”

Joey makes the decision and says yes.

~~~

The club is the same one they always go, and the bouncer smiles at them, eyes lingering on Justin. Between the four of them, Joey hopes they can keep a watch on him, to keep Justin safe from this world he wants to understand but just doesn’t. Justin stops inside the door, suddenly looking very young, and Joey presses a hand to the small of his back.

“Thank you, Justin,” Joey says quietly, and Justin turns to look up at him, smiling a quick smile before JC and Lance bring him to the bar. Joey looks around, checking out the scene, before Chris a finger into his belt loop and tugs. “Oh, no. Not that again.”

“Dance with me, stud,” Chris says, smirking, and it’s not like that hesitant first time, or the cautious times that followed when they didn’t want to touch because if they did, they’d be coming on the dance floor. It’s like it was last week, pressed tightly together, arms tangled, but no mouths, or they really would fuck in public.

Chris is a great dancer when he’s taking it seriously, and Joey waits until it happens, until Chris slides behind him and starts grinding into his ass. Joey straightens up, arching his back, and Chris is whispering hot in his ear, “yeah, baby, work it, baby,” and trying to be sincere about it.

Joey can see Lance and JC with Justin sandwiched between them, dancing a few feet away. JC is laughing, and Lance looks awkward, but Justin seems content, like he’s been let in, at least for tonight. Behind Joey, Chris tightens his arm overs Joey’s belly and says, “stop eyeing the underagers, you pervert.”

Joey laughs. “Sorry. Forgot my fetish is for old men.”

“Ha,” Chris says, and his hand is creeping under Joey’s shirt, palming his stomach. Joey clenches his belly, a sharp gasp inward, and rocks with the music, trying to ignoring Chris’s mouth closed over his shoulder blade, wet and hot, crawling over him.

The room is thumping alive with music, and there are so many men around them, a hundred different faces at least. When Joey makes half-lidded eye contact with someone else, he just smiles, Chris against his back, moving like water. Times like this, Joey can’t figure out why Chris went home alone so many nights. Chris is so fucking hot, Joey doesn’t know what to do with him half the time.

Chris is fitted against Joey’s ass, hot and hard, and there’s a hand on Joey’s hip as the other moves under his shirt, short nails scraping over skin. Twisting his body, Joey lifts his arms over his head, grinding in quick, sensual circles. Chris licks at the back of his neck as the hand on his waist slides inward, folding over his cock.

“Fucker,” Joey says, forcing a sharp gasp of air through his clenched teeth, and he can feel Chris laugh, nipping at the dip of his shoulder. No one’s looking at them, it’s all black and neon lights anyway, but Joey feels obscenely exposed, feels it and likes it.

The music abruptly changes beat, and Chris moves with it, his palm pressing against Joey’s cock with determined, choreographed squeezes. Joey doesn’t understand why no one’s noticing this, doesn’t even want to ask, because it feels so hot, so good, like his world is shattering.

Suddenly, Joey freezes, and he grabs Chris’s hand, yanking it away and putting it on his chest. Chris whispers, “you close?” And Joey nods, because it’s still there, on the edge, and he’s worried that maybe he’ll still come, even with the nothingness closing around his dick. “You want, maybe, to go somewhere and take care of that?”

“I’ll be fine,” Joey says because nothing says lame like masturbating in a public washroom.

“I’m offering,” Chris says and takes Joey’s wrist, pulling him along, and Joey already feels well-fucked, dazed and sexy, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Justin looks at them when they walk by, folded between JC and Lance. Joey peers at him, a sidelong glance, and Chris turns back, glances first at Joey then at Justin. “You having a good time, kid?”

“Yeah,” Justin says, a strange tone to his voice.

Chris tightens his fingers around Joey’s wrist, the gentlest scrap of nail against Joey’s skin. “Me and Joey just have to go take care of something, but when we come back, I’m gonna teach you how to do body shots, okay?”

“Okay,” Justin says and smiles.

They spiral downstairs on a wet, crowded staircase. Joey can smell the testosterone, can taste it when they’re in the narrow hallway. They pass the bathrooms, and Joey stops briefly, thinking this is the place, but Chris keeps going. The end room is dark, and there are sounds twisting through the hot, steamy air. When Joey sees a sliver of too much flesh, he understands.

They find a niche, a little indent out of the way, and Joey idly wonders how many people have stood here before, with strangers, with lovers, with friends. Doesn’t think about it for long, though, because Chris is against him, mouth against his neck. Joey folds a hand against his back, pulling him close, and they kiss, long and hot and hard.

“I think I’ve got it this time,” Chris says, all ambiguous and mysterious, and falls to his knees, hitting the floor with a loud crack. In the dark, his hands are deft on Joey’s zipper, tugging it down and pulling out his dick. “Really, man. This time, I’ve got it.”

Joey isn’t sure he wants to tell Chris he has no idea what he’s talking about, and when Chris starts in with his fucking amazing mouth, Joey thinks it doesn’t really matter. The entire world right now is those lips, that tongue, and those hands, one curled around his hip, the other in his pants, rubbing. With the pleasure cresting, Joey idly pats at Chris’s head, trying to push him away, and Chris punches him in the thigh. Joey comes with his hands over his mouth and waits for Chris to start gagging, but it doesn’t happen. Chris stands up, licking at his mouth.

“It only took me a few months,” Chris whispers, grinning, and Joey presses his lips to Chris’s, swiping his tongue inside. Chris puts his warm hands on Joey’s waist, under his shirt, and Joey pulls back. Chris knuckles Joey’s sides. “But dude, really, that shit is rank.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Joey says, smiling. “I’m impressed. Thank you,” and he kisses below Chris’s ear, grinning as he nips his earlobe. Chris tips his head, hands racing up Joey’s sides, and Joey kisses down his neck then kneels, leaning forward to mouth the swell of Chris’s cock, unfairly trapped in his jeans.

Joey makes quick work it, never willing to admit just how much he loves giving head, knows he’s good at it, a natural. Three months ago, this would have freaked Joey out, but now, he realises it’s nothing to be afraid of. He just likes it, was born to like it, and Chris makes it better, with his fingers in Joey’s hair and his hips struggling to stay still before giving up and fucking Joey’s mouth. It’s only a breath before Chris comes, and they look at each other sheepishly, leaning their bodies together and just standing there for awhile, catching their breath as it runs between them.

~~~

It’s smoky upstairs, and Joey is grateful for that because he smells the sex all over them. Chris is several degrees hotter, hands on Joey’s hips as they snake through the crowd, and Joey walks over to the booth where the others are sitting, red-faced and laughing.

“Get that thing worked out?” JC asks, smirking.

“Sure did,” Chris says and slides in next to Justin, shoving over so Joey can sit. Chris flags down the waiter, orders in German, and winks. The waiter grins a sly grin, and Joey can’t even pretend he’s not jealous, but Chris’s hand is on his thigh, warm and firm. Joey calms down. “You drunk yet, kid?”

Justin shakes his head. “No, not really. JC isn’t letting me drink.”

“I have to sit next to you on the plane,” JC replies.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, C.”

The waiter arrives with ten shot glasses, and Chris makes a big production of handing them out, two each. Joey smiles to himself as Chris clears his throat then smacks both hands down on the table. “I propose a toast, to us. We made it, guys.”

“Barely,” Lance says.

Chris laughs. “Maybe. Oh, but first. Jayce?” JC looks up, smiling, and Chris points at him. “You and me have been dating for awhile, Lou says, and if you don’t het-up your image shortly, that fucker’s going to start taking it out on you instead of me. But anyway, I digress,” Chris continues, picking up his shot glass in one hand, the lemon in the other. “Come on, guys. We’re making it. We’re doing it. We’re going to be huge.”

“Because we rock,” Justin says, grinning. “Because we’re so fucking hot it hurts.”

“We are at that,” Chris agrees, elbowing Joey in the ribs, and Joey smiles, shaking his head.

“Because we’re better than the Backstreet Boys,” Lance adds, and Chris laughs. Joey loves the feel of Chris’s laughter, and they’re so close, he feels it intimately, all along his body. “And because we’re really, really talented.”

“Ain’t no one gonna disagree,” Chris says solemnly, nodding his head.

“Because we’re friends, the best friends.” JC beams at the table, and Joey nods, leaning against Chris, and Chris turns to smile at him, eyes dark and happy. “And because we love each other, whether we admit it or not, though some of us love certain people more than others.”

Chris sniffles. “Aw, sweetheart. I knew you loved me.”

“Talking about this one, actually,” JC says, tilting his head at Lance, and Lance smiles brilliantly, all white, perfect teeth and huge, wide eyes. Justin ohs quietly, like he hadn’t known that much, and Joey smiles because Justin looks all right, like he’s proud of them.

“Sappy bastard,” Chris says and bends into Joey, “you turn.”

“Because we’re meant to make it,” Joey says, his hand flat against the small of Chris’s back, rubbing gently, and Chris is leaning into it, elbows still resting on the table, waiting to do his shot. “Because we’ve gotten this far, and there ain’t no stopping us now.”

Chris whoops and yells, “amen, brother!” Chris looks around the table, crazily happy, and Joey rests against him, feeling the energy seeping from his pores, wet and hot and slick. “To us. Nsync. Because we’re fabulous, darlings, absolutely fabulous. Even Justin.”

Justin laughs and smacks Chris on the shoulder, and Chris spills the tequila all over Joey’s arm and squeaks, never one to waste, lapping at the mess. Joey tries to think of unsexy things, like his mother, as Chris licks all over him, sucking on his wrist, but it’s hard.

“Cover the infant’s eyes,” JC says, leaning over Lance to fold a hand over Justin’s face, and Justin laughs harder, Joey can hear him over all the noise. Chris pulls back, licking his lips, and Joey is sure his face is red as blood after that performance. “You done, Chris?”

“Dude was trying to soak my tequila into his arm!” Chris smacks Joey on the thigh, and Joey smiles sheepishly. When Chris’s hand pauses and runs over the bulge in Joey’s jeans, Joey bits his tongue and picks up his shot, staring at it. Chris is such an insatiable bastard. “Right, right. Lance, dude, tip your head back.”

“Why?” Lance asks slowly.

“Do it!” Chris barks, and Lance does it, exposing a long line of neck. Joey smirks. “Right. Justin, lick him, right on the collarbone, then shake some salt onto it.” JC sits back, bemused, as Justin does as told, and no one pretends they don’t see Lance shiver. “Good. Now, salt, shot, lemon. In that order.”

“Does Lance mind me licking him?” Justin asks, and Lance says, “no,” in his deep, rumbly voice. JC laughs, whispering something in Lance’s ear, and Joey grins as Justin licks Lance, gulps the tequila then sucks the lemon. “Holy fuck! It burns.”

“That means it’s good, baby,” Chris says, patting his back, and Justin nods, eyes watering. They do the rest of the shots, Lance on JC, JC and Justin on Lance, and Joey and Chris together, which is the worst idea, Joey decides, as Chris sucks on his neck. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers as Joey squirms, nearly out of the seat. “Taste so fucking good. In all places.”

When the river runs dry, Chris orders another round and another, until Justin’s all giggly and pliant, looped over a very relaxed Lance and giving him kisses on his cheek. When Justin tries to kiss Chris, Chris stops him and says, “too old, kid. Lance is the only one.”

“I wish you were a girl,” Justin says, so quiet Joey almost misses it, and Chris nods, ruffling his curls. Joey is pressed against him, chin hooked over Chris’s shoulder and arms circling Chris’s soft belly, and Justin smiles at them both. “But I’m okay. Just. sad sometimes.”

“We know,” Joey says, “I’m sorry.”

Justin sighs. “It’s okay.” He hiccups and looks a bit green, and then Chris is ushering them all outside into the clean, crisp air. It isn’t too late, maybe around one, and as they tumble into a taxi, Joey thinks he’s never going to sleep again. He’s feeling vibrantly alive, in this puppy pile of his closest friends, and he loves them all. This is the happiest time in his life.

~~~

“Home again, home again,” Chris says when Joey comes out of the bathroom, drinking down three glasses of water. “God, it’s going to be so weird to go back. First thing I’m doing is hitting up Taco Bell. Ah, sweet, fake Mexican food.”

Joey laughs and pulls off his shirt, ignores Chris’s low whistle. “My mom is making a big dinner. You can come if you want,” Joey says, because his mother did invite Chris, whose family lives in Pennsylvania and isn’t meeting him at the airport, and Chris nods, like he’ll think about it, when he’ll come for sure. Chris never turns down free food. “You drunk?”

“Buzzed, pleasantly,” Chris says, shrugging out of his own shirt and tossing it haphazardly to the floor before undoing his jeans and pushing them off, wiggling to get them down. They drop to the floor with a muffled thump, and Chris sits on the bed, in black boxers and hunched over. “So I was thinking. Tonight, you know. We could. You know. Fuck?”

Joey isn’t surprised, so he just nods and shucks his pants, going into the bathroom to grab a couple condoms and the lube from Chris’s bag. Chris is on the bed, a knee pulled to his chest, and looking at the floor, and Joey thumbs the rubbers nervously, the plastic crinkling quietly.

Joey puts the condoms and lube on the bedside table then checks to make sure the door is locked and bolted. Pausing there for a moment, he turns out the lights but leaves the bathroom light on, the door half open so a breath of light touches the room.

Joey perches on the edge of the bed, feet still touching the floor, and Chris leans over, lips parted, and captures Joey’s mouth in a soft kiss. Chris grins, runs a finger down Joey’s jaw, and Joey opens, tongue snaking out to lick across Chris’s dry lips. It isn’t long before they’re twisted up on the bed, coiled around each other, kissing deeply, wetly, hotly.

Chris is flush against the bed, squirming, and his hands are moving up and down Joey’s back, fluttering fingers dancing over his skin before settling on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. Joey misses his mark and gets Chris on the cheek with a sloppy, desperate kiss as Chris runs his hands over Joey’s ass, squeezing.

Chris lifts his hips, back arched off the bed, as Joey strips him, then they kiss again, flush and hot against each other. They’ve come so far from that first night, when Joey just wanted Chris to feel better about himself, and Joey still can’t understand why anyone would turn Chris away. He’s made for this, in the way he grins when he’s getting blown or the cautious ways his hands move over heated flesh, or the fact he doesn’t give up, even when he sucks. These are the qualities Joey looks for in a partner. He can’t believe anyone denied themselves this.

Joey swipes a tongue over Chris’s chest, sucking one nipple into hardness then the other, his hands tucked against Chris’s hips, holding him down. Chris is breathing hard, legs bent off the bed, fingers stroking idle spirals across Joey’s shoulders, down his back. When Joey pulls his mouth down his belly, Chris hisses and lifts his feet, a twist of pleasure as Joey sucks his dick between his lips, hard in his mouth.

When Chris is quivering close, Joey pulls off and kisses the insides of his thighs, licking over the hot, soft flesh, and Chris makes a low keening noise in his throat, nails scrapping at Joey’s back. Leaning up and kissing deep, Joey slides a hand under Chris, pressing into his lower back, and starts to flip him on top. Chris stops him.

“You in me,” Chris says quietly, a palm folded against Joey’s chest, and Joey looks at him, eyes narrowed. Chris nods and reaches back, fingers blindly fumbling for a condom, and he holds it up when he has it, pressing it to Joey’s shoulder. “I want my first time to be now, with you. Don’t you dare fight me on this.”

“I won’t,” Joey says, his voice caught in his throat, and he rolls Chris over, a hand tucked against his side. Leaning over Chris, Joey grabs a pillow and tucks it under Chris’s hips, and he runs his palm over the bared back, thighs, ass. Chris shifts, and Joey kisses the small of his back, eyes closed. Chris sighs, and Joey reaches for the lube.

He drizzles out a line over his fingers then tucks his hand between Chris’s legs, listening for Chris’s whimper when he slides in the first finger. He’s tight, too tight, and it hurts, so Joey holds there, dragging his lips over the smooth rise of his ass then dipping into the dent at the base of Chris’s spine. Chris relaxes, just a bit, so Joey puts another finger in, then moves them gently while humming against Chris’s flesh, wondering why he has so much to prove.

Joey withdraws his fingers, wiping them clean on the side of the bed, then reaches for the condom, tearing it open with unsteady hands. Chris is propped up on his elbows, but his head is bent. He looks like he’s praying. Joey rolls the slippery latex down the length of his cock, perched on bent knees, and his belly tightens, nervous.

“You ready?” Joey asks quietly, and Chris nods, so Joey rises to his knees and folds over him. He nudges at the opening, a hand wrapped around his cock, and he pops in, holds there. Chris’s breath is ragged again, his fists are clenched, and Joey wants to stop but doesn’t know how to say it, so he just doesn’t move at all.

“It’s okay,” Chris says.

Joey nods, a knot in his throat, and slides in further. Chris hisses, his shoulders cracking, and Joey isn’t sure whether to stay or go. He’s not some sort of anal sex expert; he only did it once with a guy. He’s not even sure he can make it good. Chris’s back is rippled with his discomfort.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, voice rough, and Joey finds the strength to answer, “nothing,” even though it’s a terrible lie. “Then go on,” Chris mumbles, speaking to the dark that hovers in the room. Joey wishes he thought to buy candles, thought to make it special. With a deep breath, he slips all the way in, flush against Chris’s thighs, and his head spins.

Joey stays there, haloed over Chris’s back and propped up by two unsteady arms, and he listens, is overly conscious of the way Chris is holding his breath. He touches Chris under his stomach, tentatively stroking clammy skin, and Chris dips his head lower, his fingers bent into claws, dug into the bed. Joey says, “are you okay?”

Chris doesn’t answer and Joey lifts his hand to touch his face, and Chris pulls back when Joey’s thumb slides over a damp cheek. “I’m fine,” Chris says, his voice wet, trapped in his throat, and Joey moves back, disappointed yet relieved, but Chris adds, “ow, fuck, Joey.”

“I won’t do this,” Joey mumbles. “I can’t. You’re. This isn’t the proper way to have sex,” Joey says and knows he sounds pathetic. The proper way, he thinks, is dick in pussy, man in woman, not this, not like this. Chris isn’t liking it, so neither is Joey. “We shouldn’t have tried.”

“It doesn’t really hurt that much,” Chris says quietly, “though it feels. strange,” and Chris sniffles loudly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, which is disgusting but oddly comforting. “I just. feel raw like this. I didn’t think it would be so. like it is. I can’t believe I’m crying.” Chris laughs, a puddle sobby snot. “I’m so fucking embarrassed here.”

Joey kisses him on the back of his neck, where the hair is soft and fine, and whispers, “no, it’s okay. It’s just me, you know, I think I’ve seen you at your worst, Chris, and this isn’t it. It’s intense, you know, we’ve been through a lot together. Now we’re going through this.”

“You know I love you, right?” Chris asks, and Joey nods against him, kissing him again in the gentlest way. “Now, come on. This is getting mildly uncomfortable,” and Chris tilts his head back, grinning. He’s most handsome when he’s smiling, and Joey runs a thumb across his bottom lip, perched precariously on one arm. “Fuck, man. I appreciate the romance, but my ass is fucking burning here.”

Joey laughs, the relief melting into him, and lifts up, knees dug into the soft mattress. Chris waggles his hips, spreading his legs, and says, “come on, you fuckwad.” Joey nods and pulls back, giggling almost crazily when Chris bats a fist at him. “Ow, fuck. I take it back. Slowly. You sure this gets better?”

“It did for me,” Joey says honestly, and slides back in, and Chris calls him -- “oh, you sly motherfucker” -- and Joey isn’t sure if that’s good or bad. Thrusting shallow, he moves as slowly as his own body will allow, and when Chris starts wriggling, Joey drags a hot, wet tongue across the back of his neck. “Feeling better?”

“Maybe,” Chris confesses, and Joey drags his fingers over the grin, his belly fluttering in anticipation. This is good, Joey thinks with a dopey smile, really fucking good, and it means so much more when there’s emotion tangible in the room. “Your arms are shaking, man. It’s all right. My back can take it.”

“I’m getting fat,” Joey warns.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you skinny ass. I can take it, Joe.” Chris arches his back upwards, insistently pushing, until Joey settles down, has to pretend he didn’t want this all along. Chris is sweaty and slippery and plush in a solid, sturdy way. Joey stretches out his arms until he can wrap his hands around Chris’s wrists, slides down further to twist their fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, that’s. Wow,” Chris says, tilting his head back, and Joey mouths the exposed neck, thrusting slowly, never having felt this close to anyone before, so attached, so like one skin moving in completely synchronisation. No girl ever let Joey get this close, never let him press them to the bed, trusted him enough to let him do it, but Chris, he’s breathing hard, and pushing back his hips, liking it.

Joey closes his eyes, his mouth full of the salty, hot taste of Chris’s skin, and thrusts, deep into that yielding body, and Chris squiggles, never quiet, never thinking he has to be. Joey starts panting, “I love you, I love you” and can’t stop, and doesn’t especially want to, especially when Chris says it back, a height to his voice, a cresting of pleasure audile in his breathy whispers.

When Joey comes, it’s a surprise, and he comes hard, piercing quick and desperate into Chris’s ass. It only lasts a few seconds, that utter sense of bliss and satisfaction, before he’s aware enough to slide a hand under Chris’s body only to find the pillow soaked, his belly sticky-wet with his own release. Chris laughs shakily, head down on the bed, and Joey mumbles something happy into his shoulder, not caring about the words.

Joey cleans up and comes back to the bed, poking Chris to see if he’s still awake, and he lifts up his arm for Joey to slide underneath. Chris yawns, all crooked teeth and long tongue, and gnaws at Joey’s chest, smiling. Joey closes his eyes, Chris’s twisty hair tickling his chin, and feels sleep coming quickly in his bones.

“Thanks,” Chris mutters, right before Joey’s gone, and Joey nods, opening his eyes. Chris is staring at him through his own exhaustion, eyes clear and free of the weight he usually bears, and Joey touches his cheek softly. Chris smiles.

~~~

Joey wakes up when the alarm buzzes angrily in his ear, and it’s too damn early, but he knows there’s a plane to catch in a few hours. He can sleep then. Surprisingly, Chris is already up and sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, with his head in his hands.

“Dude?” Joey says cautiously, and Chris makes a soft sound. “I’m, uh. Going to get some ice,” Joey explains lamely, pulling on a pair of briefs then his jeans, and lays a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? Lock the door if you need more time.”

Chris nods, and Joey walks into the hall, leaving the door unlocked behind him. It’s empty, with a trail of garbage at the edge of the ugly orange carpeting. Joey supposes he could go get ice. There isn’t much else to do, and he knows Chris will back to normal in awhile. He’s learning so much about Chris every day, and sometimes, this intimate familiarity really does scare him, too.

“Good morning, Joey,” Lou says, and Joey jumps, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns around, skin prickling up his back. Lou isn’t a bad guy, Joey thinks, but there’s something about him that puts Joey on edge when he’s alone. “Good job, Joey. There’s no way the record company isn’t going to want you kids back for more.”

“That’s cool,” Joey says, smiling, “thank you.”

“Listen, Joey,” Lou says and folds a sweaty palm over Joey’s naked shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to room with Chris. It must be uncomfortable for you.” Joey keeps his face blank as Lou speaks even though his stomach’s churning. “But we can’t afford anything more, and I don’t want Chris and JC together.”

“They’re not dating,” Joey says quietly. “Chris is just playing you.”

Lou frowns. “I know. But if they ended up together, something could happen that would ruin everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish here. It’s very important you boys stay on the straight and narrow. Plus, Justin and Lance are still impressionable. You’ll tell me if they’re in trouble, won’t you?”

Joey nods numbly.

“Good.” Lou squeezing his fingers together, slippery on Joey’s flesh, and Joey tries to remember to smile. “You’re a good boy, Joey, you’ll go far. You’ll give Kelly a call when you’re in Orlando, won’t you? A girlfriend would look good.”

“Sure,” Joey agrees, and Lou nods, letting go. He walks off down the hall, taking a cell phone out of his pocket and ringing someone up. Joey shudders hard and turns to see JC standing there, eyes narrow, face worried. “Hey, C.”

“Sometimes, I really hate him,” JC says, dressing in Adidas pants and a thin white tee. He looks cold as he runs his hands up and down his arms, and Joey is very aware of how chilly it is in the hallway. “You okay?”

“Didn’t need that, you know,” Joey mumbles and brushes past JC to go get that elusive ice, and JC follows him, his sneakers skidding on the hideous carpet. Joey scoops a plastic cup into the ice pile then holds it there. “Chris is freaking out again. I’m trying to avoid him.”

JC smiles sadly. “He’s so straight half the time. I still can’t guess at how you guys happened. You must be something special in bed, Joey, because with Chris’s issues, I’m not sure your stunning personality is strong enough to turn him.”

Joey laughs and nods, slipping an ice chip into his mouth then offering one to JC, and JC takes a cube between his fingers, dropping it between his lips, his floppy hair tipped back from his head. He looks about twelve, Joey always thinks, it’s amazing he’s older. “We, uh. For the first time, last night.”

“I figured,” JC says, the ice clicking against his teeth. “He’s been planning it for awhile. He really wanted you to be his first, you know, it was really sweet. Romantic, even. I’m glad it was you, Joe. There are some monsters out there, and nothing could protect Chris from that.”

Joey tilts his head, and JC looks at him. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a wonder I went back to dick afterwards,” JC replies, shrugging, and Joey loops an arm over his shoulders, squeezing. JC looks up. “You know, when Chris was getting us all together, I was like, jeez, does he realise he’s collecting a big ol’ group of queers? Then you all made out like you were straight, and I was, like, no way, man. It was kind of funny. Still is,” JC adds, and grins goofily.

Joey nods and scratches a hand through his hair then looks at his watch. It’s been about ten minutes; Chris will need at least fifteen. JC glances at Joey, brow creased, and Joey sighs deeply. “He gets into these moods, sometimes. It’s best just to leave him alone, or he really gets freaked out about things.”

“You know he loves you?” JC asks, a line of worry wrinkled over his forehead, and Joey nods, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he held. “Good. You’re good for him, Joey. Really good. And you’re cute together,” and Joey crinkles his nose as JC laughs his odd giggle.

“I should go back,” Joey says and jiggles the cup of ice. “See you in a few?”

“Big travelling day. I should wake up Lance. Poor baby, was up all night,” and JC smirks as Joey shoves him good-naturedly, watching him saunter exaggeratedly down the hall. Eventually, Joey follows and jiggles the doorknob between his fingers. It isn’t locked.

Chris looks up as he walks in, lifts his hand and pushes his hair from his face, then he smiles a bit and doesn’t move an inch when Joey comes closer, just hooks his arms around Joey waist when he’s there and strokes the small of Joey’s back with his thumbs. Joey bends down, maybe to speak, maybe to kiss, but when Chris tips his head and breathes, Joey knows it’s to nuzzle.

They stand like that for a long, long time. Joey wants to hold Chris tightly, too tight, to make sure he doesn’t run away, and Chris leans his forehead against Joey’s shoulder, eyes closed, a halo of black lashes on pale skin. Chris just looks so beautiful.

And everything is suddenly all right because even if all else fails, Joey has this to keep with him. If everything is gone tomorrow, if Nsync doesn’t work, he’ll still have this, and if Chris ever leaves, it’ll be okay, too. Joey is a changed man, and he feels it, straight to the bone.

~~~

Justin’s girlfriend comes to see them off at the airport, and she’s a pretty young blonde whose father is a military man and stands behind them while they kiss desperately, promising not to break up, not even when they agreed they would. The girl -- Emily -- is crying loudly, and Justin is brushing her hair away from her face with his hands, speaking softly to her in her ear, nuzzling her neck.

“We’re going to have one heartbroken dude to deal with,” Chris says sadly, standing behind Joey to hide the fact his hand is tucked into Joey’s jeans, holding him close. Joey nods, his hands behind his back, fingers softly brushing Chris’s arm. “Poor guy. I thought he’d made her up. I guess not.”

“She’s really pretty,” Joey says.

“She is,” Chris agrees. “God, Joe. This is so fucking sad. I want to tell him not to fall in love with those you know you shouldn’t have, but I know you can’t pick when it happens. It just does. God, look at him.” Justin is bawling now, fighting JC as he tries to pull him back so Emily and her father can leave. “Oh, man. Those poor kids.”

“He’ll be okay,” Joey says quietly and isn’t sure he believes it. Emily is dragged out by her dad, crying loudly, and Justin is screaming at JC. Lance stands back, and looks to Joey and Chris. Joey smiles crookedly, and Lance nods then points to the boarding sign. “Come on, man. Gotta go home.”

“It’s going to be so weird,” Chris says again and picks up his carry-on bags. Joey feels cold in the void Chris’s hand left, and he follows Chris to the doors. Chris flashes his ticket then walk on ahead, and Joey pulls his own battered ticket out of his pocket. Chris is waiting halfway down the hallway. “I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about when I said it was all going to change. I had no idea. I barely even recognised myself this morning.”

“I know who you are,” Joey says, nudging him, and Chris starts walking, his brow furrowed in a knot of worry. Joey puts the bags into the overhead compartment, lets Chris take the window, and climbs inside beside him, in the very last row of the plane. Lance, JC and Justin are up near the front, in the centre, and Lynn and Diane are in the middle. Lou is in first class.

Chris puts his forehead against the glass, and Joey flicks his knee until Chris looks at him. “I can still feel you,” Chris whispers, leaning in close, and Joey nods. “It’s so weird. I feel like everyone should be able to tell just by looking at me, but they can’t.”

Joey wants to kiss him and knows he can’t.

“This has been the best, and worst, time of my whole life. I’ve never been so clear in knowing what I want or so confused. I’m in love with a man. I’m sorry, Joe, but that’s probably going to freak me out for a long time.” Chris lays his head back and looks miserable, and Joey nods, eternally understanding. “But then, a part of me is so fine with it, and it’s a bigger part, and it wins every time I start to wonder if this is worth it. Because it is. You know?”

“I know,” Joey says quietly. “Don’t worry about it so much, man.”

Chris smiles shakily and touches his forehead to Joey’s shoulder, and Joey lifts a hand, skirting it over the edge of Chris’s dark hair. The steward is speaking, but it doesn’t matter. Joey’s heard it all before, and when the plane starts in on the runway, Joey sits back and holds Chris’s fingers under the armrest, the world rumbling under his feet.

Fin.

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