Written for the [Sweet Teddy B Does The Twist] challenge.

Nevertheless, You'll Do
By: Rhys

"and I am forced to write ‘belly’ when I mean ‘love’" -Ted Berrigan

~~~

i. in a galaxy far, far away.

Chris waited outside until he heard that "another one of those boyband guys" had arrived. He’d only waited because it freaked Chris out to be the first anywhere, especially with strangers. That initial meeting with Lou had been a big fluke, Chris believed. He made such a better first impression if he had a well-established sidekick acting the straight man. However, which one of his guys was there, Chris didn’t know. It didn’t matter much, either. The principle of the thing.

It turned out to be Joey. Sneakily, Chris snuck up behind him and squeezed him tight around the waist. It was a moment or something, Chris thought, rather profound. He hadn’t seen Joey in at least a month, not since that time they randomly met in the airport, buying the same chocolate bar. Kismet, Joey said. Chris had just agreed, mostly due to his unbridled joy.

"Dude," Chris said.

"I know."

Joe scuffed his knuckles through Chris’s hair, which hadn’t been styled. He’d left his super special personal gel in Miami, so he’d sent his mom into New York City to find him more. They’d been chilling together. Chris loved his mom.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Like, an hour, man. My mom made me leave early," Chris replied.

Joey grinned. "Mama’s boy," he said fondly, squeezing Chris’s shoulder in his big hand.

"I ain’t the one with my mama’s name tattooed on my back," Chris said.

"Just your ass."

"Fuck you, Fatone."

Joey hugged him, and Chris melted into him, finally home.

~~~

Lance showed up third, happy as a clam. Somebody was fucking that boy and good, Chris thought. He’d have to ask Joey later. He and Lance didn’t talk about shit like that since Chris liked to meddle, solely for Lance’s own good, and Lance never told anybody anything, not even his mama. Well, he told Joey. Mama Bass didn’t like that very much. Neither did Chris.

"Bass," Chris said softly in his ear and hugged him. Lance smelled like garlic and toothpaste, as if he’d lost a battle against bad breath after giving it a valiant effort. Chris didn’t care if Lance stunk. He was just thrilled to see him.

"Getting sappy in your old age, Kirkpatrick," Lance said, "hey."

His chest swelled with contentment. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"You saw me three weeks ago. And then the week before that. And that other week, too." Lance started to wiggle, which meant he wanted to be freed, so Chris just cinched his waist more tightly, which meant Chris was having none of that. "I see you more now than I ever did when we toured, come to think of it. I’m sick of your sorry self. Go away."

"Fuck you, Bass."

Lance laughed, low and deep, a rumbling storm in Chris’s ear.

~~~

Chris started to form a plan to bum change off the guy getting himself a soda at the machine before realising it was Justin. Overcome, Chris grabbed Justin and turned him over until all of his coins spilled to the ground. Something in Chris’s back twisted painfully, but he didn’t care much. Not even when Justin kicked his legs back and sent them both to the ground.

"Fuck," Justin said, waving away security as Chris reached for the scattered change. His face was a twist of pain, and Chris was a little regretful. Not that he hurt Justin, no, Justin had learned to take pain years ago, but that he’d should have waited to wound him until they said hello. Apologetically, Chris made a kissy-face until Justin shoved at his head.

"Ass," Justin said. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Love you too, snookums," Chris replied and fluttered his eyelashes like butterflies on his cheeks. He would have kept it up longer if his eyes hadn’t started feeling chalky. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"I let the trumpeters off for the afternoon, man. I’m saving them till tonight, to herald in my posse and me," Justin said, "ass. You totally killed my back, man. Like, I don’t think I’m moving. I’m staying right here, all night. You cheap bastard."

"They can wheel us in together," Chris assured him, "don’t worry."

"Gimme back my change," Justin said.

"Fuck you, Timberlake."

They wrestled for the money until Chris had a bloody nose. He almost cried, he was so happy, and it hurt a lot, too. Justin had really bony knees.

~~~

JC phoned half an hour later, to let everyone know he’d been rear-ended by a little old lady, who’d disputed his claims that she ran into him and took her grandson’s baseball bat to JC’s windshield. After the insurance stuff was sorted out, he would definitely be there. He’d called his lawyer, just in case. Start without him, JC said, unless he ended up in jail then bail him out first. Even then, JC said, they could practice a little first if they wanted to.

They didn’t. Chris finally got his soda and sat around with Joey, famous people watching. It was always interesting to see who was really ugly under the miles of cosmetics, or who was the latest person to get a boob job, or who Joey had run into at a club.

"You did not."

"I did," Joey swore. He crisscrossed his fingers over his heart, and Chris thought that might have worked if they’d been twelve year old girls. As it was, Chris crooked an eyebrow, so Joey plainly knew Chris thought he was full of shit. "No, really. Gwen asked about you."

"Fuck off. I am not listening to you." Chris stuck his fingers in his ears. He could still hear No Doubt’s rehearsal going on in the background. The bass thudded through the floor.

"Fine!" Joey shouted, hot against Chris’s knuckles. "But she said you were cute!"

"Shut up!"

"She did!" Joey pulled at Chris’s finger until it popped out of his ear, leaving him open to comment on the left side. Chris tried to wrench his arm free, but Joey had really long fingers and a killer grip. All that masturbating, Chris thought morosely. "She says she’s sitting behind you on Sunday night and that Gavin finds you amusing. Oh, and hello, too. Gwen says hi."

"You’re a mean, mean man, Joseph Fatone," Chris said.

"Dude, I’m not making this up for my benefit."

"Ah ha," Chris said, "so you are making this up."

"Uh, no. I’m." Joey put on his thinking face, which mirrored his pained face. "Shut up. I’m just saying, I’m not you. I don’t get insane pleasure out of teasing my friends. And besides, if I totally wanted to fuck with you, I’d show her those pictures from Wango Tango."

"With the, and the?" Chris flapped his hands around helplessly.

Joey grinned, pure evil. "Those very ones."

~~~

"Oh, my god. You talk to him. I can’t deal with him when he’s like this," Justin said, thrusting his phone into Chris’s hands. Chris fumbled it, and it landed on Joey’s crotch. It was one of those times when Chris’s hands moved too fast for his head, and he got in a good grope before JC was against his ear, and both Joey and Justin were laughing uncomfortably.

"C?"

"I’m lost," JC said. "I think I’m in New Jersey."

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Chris asked, though he kept his voice light. JC hated New Jersey, and they all knew it. He just didn’t know what role Justin thought he’d be able to play in it all. Though, now that he listened a little closer, JC sounded kinda weepy.

Chris glared at Justin, who at least looked apologetic.

"Are you by yourself?" Chris asked suddenly. That moron, he thought, that total moron.

"A little," JC said.

"C, either you are or you aren’t. Ignore the voices for a second."

When JC didn’t answer, Chris closed his eyes and sighed massively. That seemed to be the sign for Joey to take over, because he got up, snatched the phone and disappeared down the hall. The thing about JC was that he still insisted he was a normal guy, who could do normal things, like get gas and buy groceries and rent movies. He’d mastered the art of ditching Tiny, and then some. Chris was going to kill him, if New Jersey didn’t do it first.

~~~

Finally, JC arrived. Tiny had found him in a donut shop in Newark, New Jersey. Chris sat JC down in a chair and gave him a stern talking to. After, Chris grabbed him in a huge hug, and they squirmed together until the chair tipped over and Chris’s nose started bleeding again. Justin and Lance stared at him, looking like they were torn between helping and the fear of catching something. Joey dragged him to the washroom. Joey had no fear of bodily fluids, having had it driven out of him that time Brianna had accidentally peed on his face when he was twirling her around after a bath and ignoring Chris’s warnings about naked babies.

"And I still love her," Joey had said after, wiping his face dry with a cloth, the sleeping baby comfortably nestled against his shoulder. He’d sounded impressed with himself. Chris had always thought that was what finally sealed Joe’s belief that fatherhood was a genetic thing in Fatone men and that he’d make a fine part-time dad.

"You okay?" Joey asked, holding a fistful of tissues to Chris’s nose.

"Never better."

"You’re being a bit, um, neurotically huggy. I’m a little worried, man."

"Big word, Fatone." Glumly, Chris poked at his nose until Joey grabbed him by the wrist and made him stop. It was just as well. It’d really fucking hurt. "I’m fine. Seriously. Never better. I’m just really, really fucking happy to be here. Maybe that’s why I’m acting funny."

"Yeah?" Joey squinted at him. Chris held his breath until Joey smiled and slapped a hand over his knee, squeezing hard. "Me too, man," Joey said, "me too."

~~~

They practised for a while until they all started forgetting the lines, even when they were written down in front of them. They gave up again to chat instead, getting caught up even though Chris knew everything already. Justin had a good phone plan, loved talking and gossiped like a girl. Chris listened quietly, slumped against Lance, eyelids heavy with fatigue.

Chris had been singing with a heavy weight in his belly, and it didn’t leave once he’d shut his mouth. The tribute had sounded like a good idea when they’d been asked, but now. He was nervous, and feeling sort of over emotional, and he wanted to make the guys promise never to die on him. He didn’t think he could handle it.

~~~

The fatal mistake, Chris would think when he woke up, was him and JC being too lazy to get glasses and drinking the vodka right out of the bottle instead. After the ride back to the hotel in the limo, Joey, Justin and Lance wimped out like tired losers and went to bed. JC was still wired from his adventures in New Jersey, so Chris went back to his room to drink a little.

Or a lot, Chris thought later, when he woke up in JC’s bed. They were both still dressed, shoes hanging off their feet. JC had snuggled up under Chris’s arm and drooled a little on his shirt. He had also become a writhing mass of disease. Chris could tell by the wet slop of his breath and the fact that his skin felt like a fucking inferno.

Chris tried showering in scalding water to no avail. He rubbed himself pink, but he still had a sore throat and a plugged up nose by the time he got dressed and found some lunch. It just got worse as the day went on. JC was hacking and sneezing, and Chris wasn’t much better, and some fool had decided they were going to sing together.

They made it through the rehearsal without raising alarm but barely. They’d pinky swore in the bathroom before they met up with the other guys, vowing not to sell each other out. It was hard though, and if anyone asked, Chris was going to finger JC as Typhoid Mary and not himself. He’d already planned it out. It was JC’s fault, anyway. The guy was cursed.

~~~

The actual day of the Grammy’s, Chris thought he was going to die. His throat felt like he’d been swallowing Brillo pads, completely ripped to shit. He gargled with Listerine for an hour before it made him puke. Then he made a top secret phone call to the doctor guy Johnny kept on hand in case of shit like bladder infections or a bad case of crabs.

Chris only wished he had crabs. They’d never affected his singing ability. Itchy, sure, and pretty fucking gross, but never once had he never been able to sing while the little buggers danced about in his pubes. And mind you, Chris had only had crabs once, years ago, in college. Still, though. A cold seemed like the end of the world, and once the doctor guy drained his sinuses, Chris spent a good half an hour whimpering on the bed, holding his face.

Chris heard the click of the door unlatching before the concerned, "sweetie?"

Chris moaned and pulled the pillow over his head.

"Are you sick?" His mom asked and put her cold hands all over his face and neck, feeling for fever. Chris tried to escape, but she had him pinned. Years of having to keep an eye on him for fear of fingers in electrical sockets and running with scissors had made his mom into some sort of Super Mom, where she knew his every move before he even thought about doing it.

"JC made me sick. We shared a cup," Chris added. It seemed more tasteful than sharing a bottle, less tacky. His mom was also convinced he was going to drink himself into an early grave, too, even though he swore he was more than half Irish and could take it. If she asked, he was going to say they’d shared Kool Aid. She didn’t, though. Thank god.

She hummed a little before deciding, "You look like shit."

"Mom!"

"You do, sweetie. I just calls ‘em like I sees ‘em. Now, get up and get dressed. I’ll run back to my room and get some makeup -"

"I’m not wearing makeup," Chris said, "no way."

"Sweetie, I am not letting you into public looking like death warmed over. Your grandmother would kill me. And also, Chris, lovely son of mine, please shower. You stink," she added and sniffed grandly, as if he needed the extra kick in the balls. He got it. He looked awful. It was JC’s fault, though. Chris thought about ways to avenge himself as he shivered uncontrollably beneath the icy cold steam of the shower.

~~~

Feverish and sickly, Chris slumped into his seat and kept his head down, less from the disease and more because his mom and Kelly were chatting at each other about babies and girl shit and long-term relationships. In short, they were covering all of Chris’s fears, not phobias. Joey looked equally bored, though more alive, and Chris shared a secret grin with him. Then some generic rockstar type walked by in tight pants, and Chris lost Joey’s attention to the man’s bulge. It was a pretty big bulge, Chris thought. The guy had to stuff, or else it just wasn’t fair.

It was an easy thing to forget. Joey’s gayness. When he’d come out to them accidentally in Germany, none of them had believed it at first. Joey had been exhausted and weepy and hungry, like the rest of them. He’d just said something about how at least the new choreographer was fucking hot, nice ass and package and shit. Chris had bit his tongue really hard.

The true irony, Chris supposed, was the fact that Joey was a better straight man than the four straight guys put together. Well, maybe not entirely straight, Chris admitted. Chris had hooked up with a couple guys, when they were hot enough, but he’d never actually dated a guy long term. They were hot to sleep with, and Chris really liked sucking cock, like really liked it, but it was too much hassle to push it further. He saw Joey’s failed attempts, and it depressed him.

But Joey. Seriously gay, like, hardcore. He’d slept with his share of groupies out of some warped idea of what he owed the group, but that didn’t matter. Brianna, the sweetheart, was a turkey-baster baby. Chris had been the one Joey called when he found himself locked in a room of straight porn, Joey’s own personal nightmare. From a local, gay-friendly adult store, Chris had bought Joey a magazine of handsome, hairless young men and a book of gay stories. Okay, maybe that was a big lie. Chris had kept the book for himself, but the magazine had been delivered to Joey’s willing hands.

Still, he’d made Chris stay around in case he needed an extra push. Chris hadn’t asked, though he thought it had something to do with phone sex. Regardless, Joey got himself off, and they’d spent the rest of the day watching the original Star Wars trilogy in Joey’s kickass in-home movie theatre. Joey had the best house. Chris’s mom wouldn’t let him do crazy shit.

"You okay, man?" Joey asked, leaning over behind Kelly as she continued to talk animatedly about her plans for Brianna’s toilet training. Chris kept his ears closed. His mom had stories, terrible stories, about him and poop-filled diapers on his head, and just general badness that he really wished she’d stop telling to everyone she met.

"Yeah, I’m fine," Chris said. His words came out a little slurred through the chatter of his teeth. He should have brought a blanket, or the stupid Grammy people should have turned up the heat, or something. Chris was slowly freezing to death. "You good?"

"Sure," Joey agreed.

"Saw you checking out the, you know," Chris hissed, spitting all over Kelly’s shoulder. Daintily, he dabbed at it before she could notice. Joey grinned. "You gonna hit that?"

Joey scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Like I’d have a chance."

"You never know," Chris said, though he knew Joey usually did know. The guy could tell from seven miles away. Chris usually fell into it without realising he was about to have sex in gay style until he was actually half-undressed on the bed, a guy’s mouth attached to his dick.

Joey narrowed his eyes suddenly.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Dude," Joey said, "are you wearing makeup?"

~~~

Chris didn’t remember much of the after-performance part of the night. He kept his head down and slept. JC had ratted him out seconds after they got offstage, hacking and sniffling and snorting into a Kleenex he’d hidden up his sleeve. JC had the warped idea that Chris had infected him, but Chris was too weak to fight it. The nap he had was just what he needed, though. By the time they were ushered out of building and to the after party, Chris almost felt alive. Not quite but close. The orange juice Joey kept getting for him was helping, too.

Chris didn’t much feel like dancing, so he sat around and watched the hot chicks dancing. Well, their tits, anyway, and the jiggling and the nice. When Joey slumped beside him, Chris pulled his eyes away from the boobies and played Admire The Package instead. It was fun.

"Dude dancing with chick in silver dress," Chris hissed out of the corner of his mouth. He watched Joey cast a hooded look in that direction. Joey whistled appreciatively under his breath and nodded. That was Chris’s first score of the night. Joey had already picked out seven guys with delectable bulges, all big and full. He was the master. Chris was only the apprentice.

"You’re a good guy, man," Joey said later, putting his hand on Chris’s knee and squeezing it. Chris, who had his head on Joey’s shoulder, having another power nap, nodded his thanks sleepily, but didn’t say much otherwise. If he’d been more awake, he would have protested or denied it or fought against the kindness of Joey’s words. They fucked off soon after though, Chris blindly following Joey back to his hotel room on Joey’s promise of more OJ and a round of Playstation.

~~~

They took breaks every fifteen minutes as Chris ran into the bathroom to pee. The orange juice was a great idea in theory, and he did feel better, but in practice, it turned him into a pregnant woman. Chris had suggested, almost in jest, that he could just piss into one of the empty cartons, but Joey had nixed that idea by calling him a sick and twisted bastard.

"It was really great to see you and the guys this weekend," Joey said, valiantly trying to save his ass in the game, to no avail. Joey’s ‘issues’ with sports extended to video games, too. Chris really though Joey saw the world at an angle or something. Nothing else explained his ineptitude. Chris couldn’t think of anything, anyway, especially not in his state of mild delirium.

"It was cool," Chris agreed. "We’ve sounded better, though."

"With you and JC all diseased and shit? No, we haven’t. Remember that time in Germany, when we ate that rotten squid?"

Chris’s bowels cramped just thinking about it. He kept his thumbs pounding at the controller, his eyes on the game, though. "Fuck, yeah. I thought I’d never stop shitting. And we couldn’t, like, rest or anything, no. I can’t even remember which big shot was there that night."

"Does it matter, man? Fuck." Joey laughed and shook his head. "I thought I was going to lose it during Tearing Up My Heart, man. I don’t think I’d ever clenched that successfully in my life. It took me days to relax. Days, I’m telling you. Me and Andre fucked later on in the week, right? And he couldn’t get over how tight I still was."

"That fuckhead," Chris muttered, stabbing the keys.

"Well, yeah," Joey said. He shrugged.

"He was a real idiot," Chris finally said, when a minute and forty-three seconds of silence had passed. Joey nodded but didn’t say anything. "Like, you should have let me kick his ass. He totally didn’t deserve you, Fatone. I mean it. You don’t let guys treat you like that, all right?"

"Gee, mom, all right."

"I’m just saying," Chris said.

"I get it, thanks."

"Whatever," Chris said. He meant it, too. Whatever. Joey had terrible taste in guys. The only guys willing to put up with the being the Top Secret Boyfriend of Nsync’s seemingly straightest member seemed to be lowlifes or dumbasses. Everyone else knew to run far, far away when Joey went on the prowl. It was too hard. Still, Chris especially resented the assholes who tried to fuck with Joey and take his money and sleep with his hard-earned groupies.

~~~

As the night went on, Chris started feeling better, though a little sleepy. They’d turned off the game ages ago and watched bad, made-for-TV movies on USA. At least they weren’t airing that show with the strippers. Miserable, vapid women did nothing at all for Chris. It kinda ruined his hopes and dreams to realise that strippers, although naked and hot, were both.

Joey talked over everything being said onscreen, adding stupid voices and sex sounds when, like, anything more than a bare finger was flashed. Chris leaned against him and yawned and listened, laughing at times, dozing at others. Eventually, Chris said,

"Dude, I gotta get going if I’m gonna catch any zees tonight." To further his cause, Chris cracked his jaw, he was yawning so big. Blindly, he stumbled around for his shoes then turned to say goodnight, but Joey was in the washroom. "Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have held it for fifteen fucking seconds? Christ, man. You’re a fucking chick!"

"Hold your fucking horses, Kirkpatrick!" Joey shouted back through the door.

"Listen, I’m just gonna get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Can you wait one fucking second?"

"Joe, man. As exciting as it is to wait on your fucking girly bladder to empty, I’m seriously tipping over here. Find me before you catch your flight, okay? We’ll make plans." Chris put his head against the door and nuzzled his cheek against it. "We don’t see each other enough, you know. It was good to hang out with you, Joe. You’re cool. Thanks for the OJ."

"One second, Chris."

"Joe, seriously, I -"

"One. Second," Joey said. He’d opened the door so fast that Chris nearly fell into the bathroom, but Joey caught him. His arms settled low around Chris’s waist. Joey didn’t have any clothes on. Strange, that. "Why’re you running so fast, man?"

Chris stepped back. "Listen, I. Joe, what the fuck are you doing?"

Joey had squeezed by him and put the chain lock across the door. When he turned around, he kept his hands behind his back, rattling the doorknob. He stood there, buck naked. Just standing there. Chris swallowed a fucking basketball down his throat before he could breathe.

"I was thinking-"

"That’s never good," Chris said.

"Shut up for a second, okay? This is, like, not going as I planned. Give me a little time here," Joey muttered. With a slip of pink tongue, he wet his lips. Not sexily, though Chris thought it was pretty hot, but in that thinking way. JC thought with his tongue right out but Joey only needed a hint of tongue then lots of brain cells which, thankfully, Chris couldn’t see.

Chris wasn’t quite sure what to do right then. Thinking wasn’t helping, that was for sure. All he could think was, "run to the door before it’s too late," but Joey was blocking the door, and he was naked. And fuck. Hard, too. Chris mentally added that to his description of Joey. A nice dick, which Chris had known already, but a dick ready for action, and oh. All right. Chris was a lot of things, but slow on the uptake, he was not.

"Mr. Fatone," Chris said, "are you trying to seduce me?"

~~~

Morning rolled over just as Joey did, squeezing the air from Chris’s chest. Chris snapped awake like he’d never slept at all, which he hadn’t really. With all the sex and stuff. Sex with Joey. Chris was totally fucked, in that unpleasant way. Joey, on the other hand, had been fucked into the mattress long and hard. Twice, even. Despite being sick, Chris had been able to do that.

Chris fought a quick battle with his cock, and lost. It stiffened straight up, pushing at the sheets. Joey, as if he knew, put his hand on it, but he was still snoring in Chris’s ear. He just held it, tenderly, like it was a beloved pet. That same cock had pushed inside Joey, twice, and fucked him, twice, and god. Joey had the tightest ass in the whole fucking world, though Chris had very little to compare it to. Chris’s guys were anonymous blowjob guys. One night stands, and Chris never, ever fucked a guy in the ass on the first date. The second, yes, but not the first. Strangely, Chris hadn’t ever had a second date. Thus, Joey was his first, and that was why Chris was awake at eight o’clock on a Monday morning, ready to shit his proverbial pants.

It’d been good, though. Just to make that clear. Really good. Joey had wanted it so bad, had practically torn Chris’s underwear off with his teeth then begged shamelessly until Chris spread Joey’s legs and pushed in from behind as Joey humped the pillow. And his dick, in Chris’s hand, and fuck. Chris was so fucking screwed. Vigorously, he rubbed his hands over his face. So. Fucking. Screwed. And fuck, he wanted to do it again, and again, and fuck yeah, again.

Sluttishly, Chris wiggled his hips until Joey’s fingers tightened, and Joey came awake with a wide yawn in Chris’s ear. Their eyes met briefly on the pillow they shared, since the other one had been creamed, and funny enough, one look seemed to do it. Within a minute, Chris was cock deep in Joey’s ass, fucking him slow and good.

~~

"So," Chris said later, when they were both lying in bed, side by side but not touching at all. Chris badly needed a cigarette, or a drink, or something. A big gun for his head.

Joey turned his head. His grin was helpless and huge. "Yeah, man?"

"That was." The word Chris needed had not yet been invented. A pity, that was. Instead, Chris made a garbled noise in his throat that sounded almost like a squeak, but more manly.

"Yup," Joey agreed. He scratched his nuts then folded his arms behind his head.

"I fucking hate you," Chris said.

"Yup," Joey agreed, grinning.

And that was really how it all started.

~~~

ii. speedos and the common man.

"Woo," Justin said when Chris finally found him for lunch. "Someone got laid."

"Yes," Chris said carefully. He didn’t want to give anything away. Joey and him had just had the most awkward conversation ever in which Chris promised more sex if Joey promised high level security. Like, FBI agent security levels. Secret Service levels. Russian spies.

"You have blowjob mouth."

"You are totally making that up," Chris said, scowling. He hadn’t even given Joey head, but he checked himself in the window of the restaurant anyway as they waited in line to be seated. They both wore ugly hats. Nobody had noticed them yet. With Justin in tow, it was only a matter of time. "My mouth looks fine."

"If you say so," Justin said, "cocksucker."

"You little fuck," Chris said, reaching for Justin’s head. The kid was fucking with him, Chris understood that now, trying to be nosy and pry for information. Justin was such a girl.

Delightfully, Justin grinned until Chris stuck his fingers up Justin’s nose and twisted.

~~~

They fucked again, one last beautiful time, minutes before Joey left for the airport. Chris thought he’d be too sore or something, but evidently not. Joey was off to Orlando while Chris was headed to Miami after a short stop in to see his grandma in Pittsburgh. She had knitted him a sweater. He was expected to pick it up in person. Plus, she had made him seven dozen cookies, which would be breakfast, lunch and dinner for a month. Chris really loved his life sometimes.

And then there was Joey.

"In a few days, I get Bri. Kelly and Lisa are off to the Bahamas with their, like, lesbian mothers group, or something. Chicks, man. They started talking, and I zone out. But I get Bri, for two weeks." Joey squinted a little then scratched his balls. He jumped a little, as if just realising he didn’t have pants on. Chris totally knew that already. "In Orlando."

"You mentioned," Chris said. Instead of looking at Joey’s flushed red cheeks, he was picking at the weird ass residue the condom had left on his dick. Joey’s hand hovered on his knee, like it wanted to help with clean up. "That’s pretty close to Miami."

"Same state and everything."

"I could drive up, hang with you and the kid." Chris admired his foreskin, even though he’d seen it before. It was better than Joey’s scruffy grin and well-kissed, puffy lips. And fuck, there his cock went again, standing at attention like it was in the fucking army. "If you wanted."

"My pool’s finished," Joey said.

"Well, then," Chris said. "Count me in."

Chris was only half-joking. He’d been waiting on that pool for two years. It had a slide.

~~~

After a few days with fretting grandma and grandma’s meddling daughter, Chris was ready to leave. They had done their job and nursed him back to health. He caught an earlier flight and left the women of his family to battle it out in his absence. When was he getting married, having kids, getting a new dog? Had he washed his ears, gotten a tetanus shot, been eating enough vegetables? Fucking vegetables. Chris only needed cookies, to keep him full; coke, to keep him awake; oranges, to prevent scurvy; and ice cream, for his bones.

Chris flew into Orlando, too, even though his ticket to Miami was non-refundable. Cabbing it to Joey’s, Chris stood on the front stoop until Joey came out to meet the pizza guy and found Chris already paying him. Brianna grabbed onto his legs not two steps into the house, so Chris hoisted her onto his shoulders and brought her into the kitchen.

"So you came," Joey said.

"You told me to," Chris replied.

"I can never tell when you’re serious or not, man. After eight years, you’d think I’d have a clue, but evidently not." Joey dropped the pizza on the counter and went for the plates. "Can you wrestle her into that highchair?" Brianna was already pushing it across the floor. "She does not stop, man. Terrible twos. I thought the dykes were pulling my leg. Like, both of them."

Chris hoisted Brianna into her chair. She got in one good kick, narrowly missing his balls. "Dude, I remember. Fuck." Brianna squealed in delight, and Joey pointed a knife in his direction. Usually, that would be much less menacing. Right then, Chris feared for his life. "Sorry. I’m just saying, though, four sisters, man. I remember it fondly."

Brianna was screaming NO at the top of her lungs, pushing at the tray.

"It’s music," Chris said. "I think she’s got perfect pitch. I know my ears are bleeding."

Joey nodded. "She’s about ready for German death metal, I’d say."

~~~

Joey’s pool was everything Chris hoped for and more. So much more. The slide spiralled. The pool itself was shaped like the Millennium Falcon, and Joey had a booze fridge within reach of two of the ladders. They put Brianna in her water wings then drank and swam around. Joey was wearing black Speedos. It shouldn’t have been insanely hot, but it was.

"Dude, it’s like we’re in France," Chris said after Joey caught him staring.

"Oui, oui," Joey said.

"You look good."

"Like the beer belly, huh?"

Under the water, it arched into full bloom. Brianna kicked at it until Joey grabbed her by the ankles. She floated on her back, held up by her arms, as Joey tickled a hand over her belly. They’d been taking swimming lessons. Chris had seen the neon pink schedule on the fridge.

Chris eyed him. "It’s not much of a beer belly, man."

"Give it time."

"Whatever," Chris said.

While they swam, Chris plotted ways to make Joey admit he looked hot in a Speedo. Maybe he did have paunch, but so did Chris, and that was fine. Not everyone in the world could be JC, the natural skinny man, or Justin, with his rippled well-earned pecs, or, hell, even Lance, with his miniature muscle man body. The common man, Chris thought, looked like Joey.

~~~

"Admit it, you look hot in a Speedo," Chris said. It was the best plan he’d come up with, after all that thinking while he looked through Joey’s lame ass CD collection and Joey put Brianna to bed. In Chris’s defence, he’d found three Michael Bolton CDs in Joey’s possession, and that discovery had melted his brain. Hence, a lame ass plan. It still got the point, though.

"No one looks hot in a Speedo, man. Get over it."

"I like your cock," Chris blurted out. That was plan number seven, only to be used when Joey was being a complete meathead. It came out, like, way too early, though. Chris slapped his hands over his mouth. Through them, he muttered, "I totally did not say that."

"You totally did," Joey said. It came out all sing-songy and smug, the bastard.

"You own Michael Bolton CDs. And all of Phil Collins’ stuff!"

Joey smirked. "You love Phil Collins, Chris."

"Only enough to, like, own the Greatest Hits albums. I don’t have every CD," Chris replied, smug. It was true. Mostly. He did have that one with No Son of Mine on it. Or was that a Genesis album? Fuck it. Chris didn’t care. He knew he was right. Plus, "too many musicals, man. You know Hair sucked some serious ass. It’s so goddamn camp."

"Hello, Chris. Gay." Joey stretched the word out, like Chris was a complete and total idiot, and hey, maybe he was, but Joey didn’t need to so explicitly state it. "You might not be a full fledged member of the club, but I am. We get the CDs for free when we sign up."

"Seriously?"

"No!" Joey laughed, loud and full, from his belly. "Tell me you didn’t believe me."

"You had me for, like, one-tenth of a second, max. I swear," Chris said.

"Sure," Joey said. He reached for the remote and flipped on the television. Immediately, Chris lay back and put his feet into Joey’s lap. Joey’s fingers pulled at his toes then started massaging his soles. Happily, Chris sighed and closed his eyes, folding his hands over his belly.

"Did I make you sick?" Chris asked sleepily.

"What do you think?"

Chris cracked open an eye.

"Yes, you did, but I figured you would, man. I mean, I sucked on your tongue for a good hour or two. If that doesn’t spread sickness, I don’t know what does. I got over it." Joey shrugged. From the look of him, he didn’t even seem pissed off about it. Chris was still thinking about ways to exact revenge on JC for making him sick in the first place. "You feeling better?"

"Yep," Chris said. Deliberately, he rubbed the heel of his foot over Joey’s crotch and felt satisfied when the bulge grew. Joey got the message, too. Chris had hoped he would.

~~~

After fucking Joey again, Chris sat back and asked, "so what’s your deal with blowjobs?"

Joey looked over at him, hands folded behind his head. "Uh. I like them?"

"Oh." Chris had expected some big rambling thing about Joey’s issues or something, which seemed pretty stupid in retrospect. Joey was, like, Oral Sex Man, and Chris knew that. Joey had been sucking cock for a lot longer than Chris had known him. Thanks to years on a bus, Chris had heard about most of it. "So it’s just my mouth you won’t stick your dick in?"

Joey lifted an eyebrow. "You offering?"

"You want it?"

"Hell, yes. I wasn’t sure what was going on here, man, like, if you were going to fuck off after one night or what." Joey’s voice was high and rambling, which was never good. It meant Joey was about to stumble into a dramatic monologue. "Work with me here. Okay, how often do I get fucked these days? I’ll tell you: never. How often do I get my dick sucked? Enough. So I figured, if nothing else, I’d get my fill of ass-fucking before forced back to, like, blowjobs from women and the occasional guy, because, man, I tell you. For a gay man, I do not get a lot of cock. Paranoia makes me soft, dude, it always has, and it’s a crying shame, Chris. Not cool at all, because fuck, Lance gets all these hot guys drooling over him, and he’s not even into them."

"I should be scared, but that actually makes sense."

"Sucks to be me, man," Joey replied.

"Well," Chris said slowly, "we can probably keep this up for a while. I mean, it’s not like people willing to sleep with me are banging down my door these days, which I appreciate, by the way, you thinking of me for this, and well. You’re a pretty fantastic lay, Joe."

Joey grinned. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

~~~

By the end of the week, they were married. No, not really, but they might as well have been. They weren’t newlyweds, though, but old fogies, the type that knew what the other was going to say before he said it. Chris made a game of it until Joey made him sleep on the couch.

Still, Chris realised he’d been taking their recent unholy union for granted when he walked into the kitchen to find a handsome, young guy on his hands and knees, scrubbing the tiles. Joey sat at the table, reading a newspaper. Whenever he finished a section, he handed it to Brianna, who ripped it to shreds with great delight as she sat in her highchair.

The first thing Chris felt was the red hot flare of jealousy. It nearly knocked him off his feet. Chris was not the type of guy to get jealous. In every relationship of recent memory, he’d always been the richest, the most talented, the most well-known. Before that, well, there hadn’t been very many before that’s. The chicks had never really dug a guy who worked three jobs, and went to school, and had to sleep a minimum of four hours. In this thing that he and Joey had going, they were pretty much equally matched. Worse, Chris was nearing thirty-two, and this young stud on the floor was so obviously not.

"Relax," Joey said, flipping a page, "he’s my housekeeper. Chris, meet Robbie. Robbie, this is Chris. You might recognise him from his co-hosting duties on Miss Teen USA last year. Well, you probably don’t," Joey and Robbie shared a grin, "but he’s also from that terrible group, the Backstreet Boys."

"Mr. Kirkpatrick," Robbie said and offered a soapy hand. With sudden inspiration, he wiped it dry on his tight-fitting jeans then held it out again. Chris took it and shook. A good looking lad, Chris thought, and gayer than, like, Joey’s complete collection of musicals.

"Call him Chris," Joey said. With a lick of his thumb, he turned another page.

"Aren’t you a little young to be a housekeeper?" Chris asked, looking Robbie up and down. It was the most excitement he’d had all morning, since he skipped whacking off in the shower in hopes that Joey would do it for him later. Chris’s own housekeeper was a single mom named Susan, who had gathered her brood of kids from Romania and moved them all to Miami.

Robbie shrugged. "It pays the bills. Cleaning up after Mr. Fatone-"

"Robbie," Joey said warily.

"Cleaning up after Joey," they nodded at each other, and Chris got the sense that trying to condition the politeness out of this guy was a constant battle, "is a lot better than flipping burgers." Again, Robbie shrugged. Robbie sorta reminded Chris of Lance, except way gayer.

That seemed to be the end of it. Robbie left the floor to dry while Chris made poptarts for breakfast. He cracked a can of coke and inserted himself into the middle of the assembly line between Joey and Brianna, so he could read the sections before Brianna shredded them.

An hour later, Robbie stuck his head into the kitchen. "Okay, I’m off to school."

Joey looked up. "You need a ride?"

"No, I’m cool. Jared’s picking me up."

"Give him a kiss for me," Joey said.

"I will," Robbie said. He blushed hot pink and disappeared. A few seconds later, Chris heard the front door open and shut then a chipper honk of a horn. Chris caught Joey smiling at nothing then sighed himself, returning to the paper. God, Chris thought, reading, the world kinda sucked in a terrible way.

"Is he seriously your housekeeper?" Chris asked.

"Seriously, yes. He’s a scholarship kid from Alabama, man. His dad works nights in a factory to pay the bills man, man, and he’s got a kid brother. There isn’t much dough left over for Robbie. I cover what the scholarship doesn’t, and he cleans my house." Joey looked up and reached for his coke. "Plus, he also looks after the pool. Imagine it, man."

Chris whistled lowly. "That pool, man. It’s a source of great goodness."

"You’re telling me," Joey said.

~~~

They had so much great sex that Chris started to wonder why Joey had waited so long to seduce him. Like, they’d known each other for almost eight years, and it seemed a mighty waste in retrospect. Well, admittedly, Chris didn’t realise he was bi until that first week in Germany, but still. That made it seven years, and seven years was still a pretty long time.

"You have to be quiet," Joey said, gingerly removing his hand from Chris’s mouth.

"I am quiet," Chris said, licking his lips. Though Joey had just come from a handjob, Chris had a firm belief that he could come again pretty soon if Chris just attached his mouth to Joey’s dick. Slowly, he started kissing down Joey’s chest. "Believe me, a kid that age has no idea about daddy’s little desire for man on man sex."

"That’s true," Joey said slowly.

Chris licked around his nipples then bit each one lightly. Loudly, Joey groaned and spread his knees. When a hand came down in Chris’s hair, Chris chuckled and continued on his merry way. Joey had the most fabulous trail of hair leading down to his cock. It was thick and dark and seemed to rippled with urgency whenever Chris breathed on it, leading the way.

Joey’s cock. God. Chris could not say enough good things about it. Like, he wanted to phone his mom and tell her how great Joey’s dick was. He didn’t, of course, because that was weird and kinda gross. But he actually wished he’d told Justin, just so Justin could know that Joey had the most incredible cock in the, like, western hemisphere. Maybe even the world.

"You’re good at that," Joey mumbled, keeping his hands on Chris’s head, lightly, "been meaning to tell you that, man, for weeks. Cuz, god!" Joey arched up suddenly as Chris slid in a finger, wiggling it around. Joey was such a Bottom Boy. Chris loved it. "Do that again."

After Joey had passed down the lube, Chris stuck in two fingers and scissored around, trying to keep his mouth going at the same time, and his hand on Joey’s shaft, and the whole breathing thing. Chris had never been the greatest at multitasking, but three fingers and Joey was begging to be fucked, just begging for it.

"But I wanna blow you," Chris said, swirling his tongue around the head of Joey’s cock.

Two seconds later, Chris got hit in the head with something hard. He took it without thinking then dropped it with a girlish yelp, yanking his fingers from Joey’s ass. The blue dildo rolled off the bed and bounced three feet before stopping. It was fucking huge. Chris gawked.

"Fuck, Chris," Joey said, rolling his hips. He was wide open, pulsing. Chris had never quite seen it from this angle before. Gently, he ran his fingers around the ring of muscle. Joey sighed. "Do you want an introduction?" When Chris didn’t say anything, Joey did it anyway. "Chris, meet my dildo. Believe me, it’s seen my ass before, man, so just stick it in."

"I dunno," Chris said, picking it up and juggling it in his hands. "I’m feeling kinda inadequate, you know, comparing myself to this thing. You sure you don’t want my arm because, shit, Joe, this thing is massive." Chris butted it against Joey anyway, and it slipped easily in.

"Don’t tempt me," Joey murmured, rolling his hips to take it.

Chris open his mouth to fondly call Joey a slut or something, then snapped it shut. He could still taste Joey’s pre-come on his tongue, and his lips. And Joey had said. Whoa, Chris thought, whoa, and slapped Joey on the ass. "You kinky motherfucker. I had no idea."

Joey groaned and pushed his ass at Chris, his own hand moving to grip his cock. "We’ll talk about it later, man. In the meantime, c’mon." Joey spread his legs impossibly wide, wiggling down the plastic dick. His balls were tight and full. "I’m dying here, Chris. Please."

"Your wish," Chris said, putting his mouth back on Joey’s cock, effectively drowning out any further words, like anything more really needed to be said.

~~~

"Ben," Joey said, later, when Chris could no longer hold his tongue. For two whole days, he’d watched Joey crawl around on all fours, wiggling his ass. Well, maybe he was just playing with his kid, but to Chris, he was flashing that ass of his, that round sweet ass. Joey had finally caught Chris holding out his fist, trying to imagine and failing miserably.

"No shit," Chris said, stroking his chin. Brianna was in bed, thankfully, after an hour of squealing and screeching and demanding her mommies. Chris had tried to slip her some booze, but Joey had caught him, and Chris had to drink it himself. It pleasantly warmed him to the toes.

"We were together a while," Joey said, shrugging. Joey was acting like it was nothing, but to Chris, whose kinkiest girlfriend has been Dani because she liked to be held down when they fucked, it was the wackiest thing ever to do in bed. Added to that, Ben had been a lawyer and always wore finely-pressed Armani suits. Ben, the only decent boyfriend Joey had ever had, who really didn’t seem like the type of guy who was into that sorta thing. Of course, Joey had never struck Chris as that type of guy either. "He liked doing it, and well, I didn’t mind so much taking it, you know. We only did it three times before, you know, we broke up. It’s no big thing."

"Fuck off, it’s not. That’s wild," Chris said. "That blows my mind."

Joey looked away from the tv and over at him. "Are you hinting at something?"

"Um," Chris swallowed down the lump in his throat, "maybe? I dunno."

"I like it," Joey said, softly, then smiled "Just say, man, and we can give it a try."

"Okay!" Chris blurted. "Yes, please. I just, tell me how, and I’ll do it. Yes."

Joey grinned. "You sound a lot like C when you get excited, man." He slapped a hand down on Chris’s knee and squeezed, firm and tight. It zapped a line of energy to Chris’s cock, which was already at attention from all the kinky talk. "I’ll give you some websites to check out, and you have to buy the Crisco. Name-brand Crisco, Chris. The cheap stuff gives me hives."

"Okay," Chris agreed, hoping he had coupons for it. "I can do that."

~~~

Chris bought Crisco, full price, and started doing his reading, not really rushing it. Years of covering his ass had made him wary of any sexual act that might end up with either party in the hospital. Besides, Brianna was still around, battling her way through Joey’s house, and that sorta freaked Chris out a lot. He only read late at night, when Joey was watching Craig Kilborn.

When Chris wasn’t reading about fisting, Chris was trying to learn to cook. Joey appreciated food, and Chris was constantly hungry, so it seemed like a good idea. Except he sucked. He sucked so bad that he embarrassed himself often and usually ended up scraping the dish into the garbage. Joey didn’t mind too much, not even when he stunk up the house.

"I can just order out, you know," Joey said, coming up behind Chris and cinching him around the waist with his big old manly arms. Joey had great arms. "You don’t need to cook for me. I appreciate the effort, but um. The occasional aftermath with Bri’s diapers? Not so much."

"I swear," Chris said, "there is no way anybody can get food poisoning with this. There’s no poultry, no dairy. Nothing that can be really undercooked." Chris gestured at the stack of sirloin steaks he was unpacking. "At worst, the marinade’s gonna taste like shit. At worst."

Joey seemed to have moved beyond giving a damn. He was nuzzling Chris’s neck and nosing at his ear. It tickled, sorta, and Chris felt his body trying to curl into a protective position. Still, he forced himself still as he manhandled the steaks and put them into the dark sludge.

"You smell spicy," Joey murmured, moving his hand on Chris’s belly, each rub lifting Chris’s shirt a little bit more. When Joey’s bare hand touched his skin, Chris hissed in a breath. He couldn’t believe himself. His jeans were pulled tight across his cock, and he’d skipped the underwear when getting dressed, so the zipper kinda rubbed. They had just done it that morning, a little mutual masturbation when they were both sleepy warm and fuzzy with wakefulness. Chris had thought, once he hit thirty, his dick would find zen, but it didn’t look likely to happen.

"Where’s the kid?" Chris asked, coughing to clear his throat. Joey was hard against his ass, fitting into the cleft like there wasn’t any denim to stop him. Chris felt a strange sort of tickle start to spread through him, centring right there. At it, he clenched his ass, to fight it off.

"I gave her away," Joey muttered, dropping his fingers to Chris’s crotch. There, he rubbed the pads of them along Chris’s zipper line. It was the most painful thing Chris had ever experienced, and probably one of the hottest. All he could smell was steak marinade and Joey’s Old Spice deodorant. It made him dizzy as fuck. "She’s in front of the tv, napping."

Chris squeezed the steaks in his hands. "She’ll be up all night."

"You’ll be up all night," Joey said, licking over Chris’s neck. Chris shivered and rolled back his head. "Do you have any idea how much I wanna bend you over this counter, yank down your jeans and tongue you, like, right there? I wanna taste you, man, so bad."

"Shit," Chris whispered, cool and slimy steaks squishing through his fingers.

"I could do it too," Joey murmured, folding his hand over Chris’s dick and rubbing him through his jeans. Chris lifted to his toes and rocked back against him, making Joey groan. "Did I mention I gated her into the living room? Fisher Price, man, I love them. Lets me do this."

Chris nearly fell into the steaks as Joey opened his jeans and pulled them down to his knees. Then that tongue, and fuck, Chris could hardly stand up. His knees buckled, and he ended up on the steaks anyway, flattened under his belly. But Joey’s tongue, Joey’s hot as hell determined tongue. God, Chris thought, god, and opened his mouth, soundless.

Chris came hard and fast without warning, spraying the cupboard door and just soaking it. Chris turned around, covered in spicy marinade and hands full of sirloins, then dropped to his knees. Joey was already standing up, taking himself out, and Chris parted his lips. The head slid in easy, sopping wet and bitterly delicious. Chris couldn’t do much more than suck and lick, keeping his hands held out away from his body. They did still have to eat, after all. It didn’t take much for Joey to come, filling Chris’s mouth as he swallowed rapidly, trying to get it all.

They didn’t even end up eating the steaks, which was the killer. Too weird, Joey decided, to feed his kid a steak that had witnessed kitchen sex, but they didn’t throw them out, either. No, they shovelled out a hole in the backyard and buried them. It seemed an honourable end, anyway.

~~~

Kelly and Lisa came by to pick up the kid up hours before they said they would. Joey had run out to the post office, since Columbia House was after his ass and about to charge him for a Celine Dion CD Joey claimed he didn’t want. Needless to say, Chris was doubtful. However, despite Joey’s shitty taste in music, he hadn’t noticed a single Celine Dion CD in Joey’s CD rack, so Chris was believing him, for now.

"How was the Bahamas?"

"Good," Kelly said, glancing around the house in a way that made Chris think she was specifically looking for something. Joey, probably, but until she asked, Chris wasn’t saying anything. Joey had promised he’d be back before the lesbians showed up, but funny, he wasn’t anywhere to be found, and Chris was covered in the spaghetti Brianna had thrown at him.

"There’s my sweet girl," Lisa was saying as she walked into the kitchen, arms open. Brianna let out the shrillest squeal Chris had ever heard in his life. "Has she eaten?"

"Does it look like she has?" Chris asked. Wildly, he gestured to his jeans. It would figure that they were the ripped kind, and all the noodles and sauce were now inside his pants. He could feel a large clump of spaghetti sliding down his thigh. Shaking his leg, he tried to urge it along.

"Is Joey around?" Kelly asked.

"At the post office," Chris said just as Joey came through the door, yelling,

"Dude, they had condoms on sale! I know how much that turns you on, so I bought three boxes. I hope you’re planning on staying a while. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to make water balloons and invite C over." Joey stopped and blinked. "Oh, hey, Kelly. You’re kinda early."

Kelly smirked. "We took an earlier flight."

"Ah," Joey said.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the post office."

"I was," Joey said, "but um." He looked at Chris, but Chris wasn’t going to get him out it. It was Joey’s own damned fault for always being so damned loud, anyway. Besides, Chris didn’t know what to say. As near as he could tell, they were something like overly fond fuck buddies, who often mirrored a boring old married couple. "Well, we also needed condoms."

"Yes," Kelly said. Lisa was hovering in the doorway, holding Brianna. They wore matching smiles. It was pretty fucking unnerving. Chris knew they were about to eat Joey alive.

"And well. Safe sex, right?"

The lesbians nodded in unison.

Chris thought, oh jeez, and put a hand to his head. This was painful.

"Ours is a love that dares not speak its name," Joey said finally, lifting his chin. He had a smug sort of look on his face. Chris let go the breath he’d been holding then nodded eagerly. That was totally it, except the love part, because whoa, but other than that, yes, exactly.

~~~

Once the kid and the dykes were gone, Chris stripped off his spaghetti-drenched clothes, hosed himself down with the garden hose then belly-flopped into the pool. It really fucking hurt, but he didn’t let on. Joey applauded from the sidelines then gave him a ten for effort and an eight for style. Joey didn’t come in. Instead, he roll up his jeans and hung his feet over the side.

Chris swam around for awhile, knowing Joey was watching him. He didn’t mind it, funny enough. Usually, Chris would feel self-conscious about the open gaze. He really fucking hated it when people stared at him. They all hated stuff about being famous. Justin hated being touched by fans, and JC hated being questioned by them. Lance just hated large crowds, which Chris always thought was kinda dumb, but that was Lance for you. Joey hated it all for making him straight. But it wasn’t all bad, and the good definitely outweighed whatever did suck really hard.

"You really want me to stay?" Chris finally asked, swimming up to Joey and grabbing onto his legs so he didn’t sink. Chris gnawed at his knees affectionately then kissed them. Hopefully, once this moment of seriousness passed, Joey would get into the pool, and they could have sex. Chris recognised the step in between, though, and he had to know.

"I really want you to stay," Joey said. He combed his fingers through Chris’s hair.

"This is all kinda stupid, right? I mean, me and you?" Chris snorted. "As if."

"Sure," Joey said. "A regular lark."

"Right," Chris agreed, wondering if Joey even knew what ‘lark’ meant. Probably, Chris decided. Joey picked up shit like that and carried it around forever. Chris was always on Joey’s team when they played Trivial Pursuit. "Me and you, we’d never work like that. That’s insane. It’d be way stupid if we even tried."

"I know," Joey said.

"Yeah," Chris mumbled, looking away from Joey’s eyes. They betrayed nothing, not a single damn thing, but Chris recognised the pit of discomfort in his own belly. Funny, but Chris didn’t feel much like having sex anymore. He suddenly felt really, really bad about it all.

~~~

iii. the overly gay musical of their lives.

The most painful part of it all was that, as far as Chris could tell, they did work like that. They worked like a well-oiled, fine-tuned machine of hot loving. Even when they weren’t in bed, they were endlessly amused by each other’s presence. Chris wasn’t good with physical affection, but if Joey was feeling ballsy, he would try to hold Chris down for a good cuddle on the couch.

They were shopping at two in the morning at the 24-hour Walmart when they passed the underwear section. Chris hated the underwear section. He never got his own size right on the first guess, and at his age, phoning his mom for help was no longer a respectable option.

"Here," Joey said. He slapped a package of black boxer briefs on Chris’s chest.

"You like the grey ones," Chris said, holding up his hands and refusing to hold Joey’s underwear, especially in public. It was pretty daring that they were even talking to each other. Chris knew he walked the carefree step of a sexually sated man. That, and Joey kept touching his back and grabbing his hand and generally being very, very gay.

"Not for me, dumbass." Joey leaned in conspiratorially. "You’d look hot in them, man."

"I dunno," Chris said. He flipped it over and started reading the information on the back as his glasses slipped down his nose. Idly, he pushed at them. "Are you sure you got my size right?"

"Who always wins at phase two of Admire the Package?"

"You do," Chris said glumly. Much to Chris’s disgrace, it was true. Joey was completely shameless about following a theoretically well hung man into the john for a covert peak to prove that he was right. Chris usually ended up being called a fag or getting a blowjob in the stall.

~~~

For no reason Chris could understand, he put off the underwear until he ran out of excuses. Joey washed them twice at his urging, and ended up buying varying sizes and colours when Chris claimed Joey really didn’t know enough about his underpants-wearing patterns to make such important and vital decisions. Nevertheless, Chris found himself wearing them, the original black briefs. They fit really, really well.

"Looks good," Joey murmured, running a thumb across the waistband. Joey moved his hand around Chris’s hips and over his ass before settling firmly between his legs. "You wear ‘em too big, man. I’ve always noticed that, and this," Joey fondly squeezed Chris’s cock, "is too nice to hide. I mean, you’ve got the perfect dick, man. Tastes good, just the right size."

"You," Chris said, "are freaking me out." Despite that, Chris knew he was rock hard.

"You just can’t take a compliment," Joey said. With the flat of his palm, he abandoned Chris’s dick and whacked him on the ass instead. Chris groaned when he grew even harder, the head of his dick peeking out above the elastic waist of the underwear, the tip a rosy pink.

"You’re waxing poetic about my dick." Chris shivered as Joey replaced his hand and started rubbing. It was such a fucking awful thing that Joey was hell on wheels when it came to sex. A fucking travesty, it was. "And implying you’ve been after my bones for a while."

"I’m living every gay man’s dream," Joey replied. "You’re all hot. Just you a little more."

Chris laid his forehead on Joey’s shoulder as Joey slid a hand down the front of Chris’s briefs, working free his dick. The ice cold air touched it like a whip, and fuck, that was good. Chris closed his eyes and murmured, "lay off the crack, Joe. It’s warping your world view."

Joey nudged at Chris’s temple with his nose until Chris looked up. Joey’s eyes were darker than night and hotter than hell. His grip on Chris’s cock tightened. "I like my world view," Joey said, his mouth inches from Chris’s lips. His breath was warm and soft.

"Whatever," Chris muttered.

"Whatever," Joey agreed.

~~~

Despite Chris’s suddenly exciting existence, there were still specific highlights to Chris’s week. Like on every Thursday at one-ten in the afternoon, Robbie cleaned the pool, and Chris and Joey peeped on him from the upstairs guest room. Chris really looked forward to that. Every time, Robbie wore tiny little swim trunks and a big chunky watch. Nose pressed to the window and leaving little clouds of fog on the glass, Chris whistled appreciatively as Joey said, "I know, I know. Wait for him to bend over, man, wait for it."

"Oh, that’s nice," Chris said when Robbie crouched to check the filter.

Joey sighed blissfully. "Isn’t it, though?"

"Does he know we’re being dirty old men up here?"

"Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about it. He thinks it’s funny. And hell, it’s not like he doesn’t do it back. Where do you think those Speedos came from, man? That kid has strange tastes," Joey said, waving at Robbie when he looked up and grinned. Robbie’s smile reminded Chris a lot of JC, who also sacrificed his eyes to utter merriment when the mood struck him.

Chris blinked. "He thinks you’re hot?"

"Don’t sound so surprised, man. It’s been known to happen."

"No, I know. I’ve seen you, dude, and I’m not a total moron. But well, I’m oddly jealous by that notion," Chris admitted, twisting up his face. It was not good, he decided, if the idea of the pool boy and Joey getting it on made him want to murder people with forks. "You haven’t?"

"Shit, no. I mean, truth be told, we actually met through one of those naked housekeeping agencies. You know, where they vacuum and scrub floors and shit in the buff? One of those. He was looking to get out of it. I needed someone to clean up my mess who wasn’t my mom."

"Shit," Chris said, shaking his head in pity. They’d all known Joey was suffering a little for lack of proper attention, but that took the cake. "You really are desperate for naked men in your life, Joe. A damn sorry state of affairs, if you ask me. Good thing I showed up, huh?"

"Something like that," Joey said, smiling.

Chris glanced down at Robbie, who’d actually gotten into the pool and was glistening wet. "You’ve got balls of steel, man. That guy could make a blind man stiff."

"It’s purely a working relationship," Joey said. "I’ve never even thought about it."

Joey said it with such conviction that Chris had no choice but to believe him. It seemed to Chris that it was kinda like how Chris felt about Justin. Fun to flirt a little bit out of boredom, but nothing more and no desire for it either. Eye candy, really, with a sparkling personality to compliment it and unspoken agreement to let it all happen. Justin was a great guy.

Chris really needed to give that kid a call.

~~~

Joey had always been surprisingly understanding when it came to Chris’s quirks, especially about the rabid sports fanatic thing. Chris tried to be good and let Joey have control of his own television, but it was hard, especially during play off season. It really tested his mettle, you know? Chris lasted about two hours before he turned on the game. He’d been reduced to rooting for the Flyers. Stupid Pittsburgh, sucking too hard to make it. At least Chris stayed in state. There was always that, he supposed, except he was a terrible traitor.

The fourth game of the series between Philadelphia and Toronto, and Chris was beginning to fear it’d go all seven games. He just got the sense. Beside him, Joey was reading the Advocate, squinting. Chris thought he probably needed reading glasses, but Joey refused to believe it. Oh well. If years of constant nagging about eye strain could drive JC into some prescription eye wear, Chris had total faith in himself to annoy Joey into glasses, too.

Joey got up and circled the room once before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Can you get me a beer?" Chris shouted, rolling his head back on the couch.

"I’m not your wife!"

"But you’re my, um." Okay, so Joey had him foiled right there, but Chris wasn’t about to give up. "You’re my dude, Joe! My most beloved dude." Chris rolled that over in his head, and yes, it was decidedly less scary than the elusive boyfriend Joey was hinting at. "Pleeeease."

"For fuck’s sake. What kind?"

Chris grinned. "Whatever you have, darling. I’m not picky."

Joey came back with two Buds, already open. Chris kissed him when he was close enough, reeling Joey in by the loops of his jeans. That seemed to be some sort of unspoken gay invitation because Joey straddled his lap and didn’t get off. The guy wasn’t as small as he wanted to be, and the game was still on. Soon enough, Joey slithered down and settled between his legs. Woo, Chris thought as Joey mouthed the crotch of his jeans, the Flyers were in the lead!

Chris helpfully lifted his hips when Joey dragged down his zipper and spread the front flaps of his pants. He hadn’t bothered with underwear, and Joey mumbled appreciatively as he started nosing around. Life really didn’t get much better than having your most beloved dude give you head while the game was on. Chris settled back to enjoy the ride.

Joey was a master at head. He loved it, and knew how to give it better than anybody Chris had ever come across, man or woman. Chris laid a light hand in Joey’s hair as he watched the Leafs and the Flyers battle it out. When the Leafs scored, Chris meant to curse the gods, but he moaned, low and deep, instead. Joey had taken him in and was sucking like a fucking vacuum.

Joey also knew how to stretch it out. Chris was a come-fast type of guy. Why postpone a good thing, you know? The phone might ring, or a mom might come over for coffee, or any number of infinite, disruptive possibilities. But Joey, Joey sucked cock like he had all fucking year. Chris didn’t much mind, except when Joey squeezed his prick and stayed the building fury. Then it was sorta annoying because, well, not very comfortable.

It’d been going on near twenty minutes at least, and Chris’s balls were ready to burst when he started begging, "c’mon, Joe. Jesus. Come on." Chris shoved his hips at Joey’s head, but Joey merely tightened his death grip on Chris’s thighs, forcing him still. If the game was still on, Chris didn’t give a fuck. All he could think about was the exquisite burn of his balls and his overwhelming need to come.

"You saying something?" Joey murmured, pulling his mouth off Chris’s dick and replacing it with his hand, and fuck if that wasn’t much better. Chris flopped his head on the couch, curling his toes as if that helped at all. It didn’t.

"Fuck," Chris said, panting and guiding Joey by the head, "come on, suck me."

"Only if we can watch what I want to watch." Joey continued milking his dick, running his bottom lip over Chris’s cockhead. Chris couldn’t even look at him doing it, either. When he did, he felt his balls tighten, but Joey stopped that with a painful clench of his fist. "I can stop."

"Fine." Chris’s thighs had started to cramp, he needed to come so badly. "Whatever."

So Joey bowed his head and sucked Chris off until he was spurting so hard that he, hand to fucking god, passed out. When Chris came to, Joey was sitting beside him and looking smug. Chris cursed himself and his dick. On the television, Rachel and Ross discussed something inane.

~~~

Chris was slowly coming out of his sex-induced haze brought on by the bliss of a new sexual relationship. The crazy sex was still hot as hell, make no mistake, and Chris still had the kinky fisting thing to look forward to, but he began to remember he’d had a life before Joey’s dick. That life’s name was Justin, and Chris hadn’t called the guy in, like, two weeks.

"You’re alive!" Justin said, sounding out of breath. "Shit, man. I was having these visions of you dead on your bathroom floor from, like, too much wanking. I even called Susan, to make sure you weren’t a rotting corpse and stinking up your house. It’d affect the resale value, you know, and scar your mother for life, and me, I’d be so fucking pissed, Chris."

"No, I’m fine. I’m just not there," Chris said, sitting by the window, watching to make sure Joey didn’t come home while Justin was on the line. He’d learned his lesson with the dykes. Plus, Joey always came in shouting. The world gave him stories, and Chris liked to hear them.

"Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it? You’re gonna make me guess. Just tell me, Chris."

"I don’t think so, man, sorry," Chris said, idly picking at the elastic of his underwear. Joey had been spot on about the sizing, and Chris was still in awe. They fit so nice and snug, and his balls totally felt loved and protected. "I’m not even jerking off much these days."

"You didn’t join a cult, did you?" Justin asked, before he started yelling at someone in the distance that yes, he was coming, and no, not right that second but soon. Chris could barely hear the voice, but it sounded like Trace, begging Justin to go pick up women with him. They were such frat boys. Sometimes, Chris really envied them, then he remembered about Joey.

He must have gone quiet because Justin ventured an inquisitive, "Chris?"

"No cult," Chris said slowly, grinning to himself.

"You’re such an ass, man. You’re giving me nothing here. Where’s the love?"

If only it wasn’t so fun to fuck with Justin’s head. "What, you think I’m having some epic love affair behind your back? You know me, man, I can’t keep stuff like that secret. No, I’m just chilling, enjoying myself. Some of us don’t have to work two jobs to pay the bills."

"Ha-ha, funny man," Justin said, "and man, listen, I gotta go before Trace has a fucking heart attack or something. When you feel like telling me what’s really going on, you have my number. No more disappearing, all right? You’re an ass for making me worry."

Chris snorted. "You’re really a chick, aren’t you?"

"Sure am, cock and all." Justin chuckled. "Love you, man."

"Love you, too," Chris said and hung up.

~~~

Joey did his absolute best to remind Chris daily of what an immense dork he was. Chris had been napping on the couch one afternoon when he woke up to a strange sucking sensation on his leg. When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with the demonic glow of the vacuum.

"Fuck!" Chris yelped as he clutched a hand to his chest, trying to grab his heart before it exploded out his nipple. Behind the giant pulsing bag, Chris could see Joey grinning, shirtless. In an instant, Chris was off the couch and chasing after him. Joey was the best guy to chase.

They nearly ran down Robbie, who was saying something about having lost the vacuum cleaner, which just set Joey off again. They raced upstairs, nearly shaking the pictures off the wall. Chris lost him when Joey hid in the linen closet. When the stairs were clear, Joey popped out of it and jumped down them, Chris hot on his tail. Chris was not going to lose this game.

Then Chris fell for the oldest trick in the book when he burst outside. Joey ran straight for the pool, but he didn’t lunge to the side like Chris expected. No, he dropped to his knees at the edge, and Chris, having no time to redirect his mass, went headfirst into the pool, hitting hard.

Chris came up, choking. Already, his jeans were tight around his legs like cling wrap. At the edge of the pool, Joey sat wearing the biggest grin Chris had ever seen come from him. For a moment in time, Joey didn’t have eyes. That moment passed pretty fast once Chris got a hold of Joey’s ankle and tugged him in. When Joey broke the surface of the water, he was laughing.

~~~

When Chris felt mentally capable to deal with it and their blood tests had both come back clean, they had three aborted attempts at the fisting thing in rapid succession. The first two times, Joey just couldn’t do it. Out of practice, he said, like it was no big deal, and maybe it wasn’t. Still, Chris felt bad and did more reading. The third time, well, Chris forgot to turn off his cell phone, and Joey made him answer it.

"Uh, hello?" Chris said, after having pressed talk with his teeth. The phone itself was precariously held by the pads of very slippery fingers. It was hard to even get a grip; he had filed his nails on both hands down to nothing. Worse, he hadn’t even checked Caller ID before answering, so he honestly had no clue. Knowing his luck, it was his mother. Chris shuddered.

"Hey, Chris!" JC sounded unusually chipper. Music was playing in the background, some mixture of crazy beats and erratic whistles. Solo stuff, Chris guessed, glad he didn’t have to keep up with JC’s genius this time. "I have been trying to track you down for ages, man."

"Well, here I am." Chris mouthed ‘JC’ at Joey, who had raised his head in question. Joey’s eyes opened wide and he nodded, before lying back down again. The room was overly hot and smelled like fatty cooking agents. "Listen, I’m up to my elbows in Crisco here."

"Ooh," JC said, "are you baking brownies?"

"Sure," Chris said. "Listen, I’ll freeze you some for the next time you’re in these parts, but seriously, C, I gotta get back to, um, the brownies. Before they burn and all," Chris added, four fingers deep in Joey up to the knuckles and feeling the whole thing to be a bit surreal.

"Hey, C!" Joey shouted, and Chris knew the fuckhead was grinning, he just knew it.

"You didn’t tell me Joe was there! Pass him up. I gotta talk to him," JC said.

With a sigh, Chris handed the phone to Joey. The mood was totally killed, and Chris knew it wasn’t getting recovered. Instead, he washed off his arms with Joy dish detergent then curled up against Joey’s chest, listening in on the conversation. Occasionally, he butted in with his own opinions, but mostly, he was quiet. He stroked and petted Joey’s dick without intending anything more than comfort, however strange it came.

~~~

The fourth time, though, it worked. Chris had turned off all the phones, and lit some scented candles, and put on some Moby to mellow Joey out. The candles almost negated the weird creamy smell of the Crisco, and the music put him into a very comfortable zone. With his mouth against Joey’s knee, Chris watched as it happened, feeling strange inside and out.

When Joey came, it was shockingly hard. Sailing out on a sharp gasp, it was followed by the impossible arch of Joey’s back. Sounds rushed from Joey’s open mouth, raw and loud and thick with pleasure, that lifted the sweat on Chris’s skin. He closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling it, on the warm ripples up his forearm and the pulsing beat of muscle around his wrist, and it was just, whoa. It was really whoa. Chris stayed unbearably still until Joey told him to pull out. He did so carefully, and wasn’t surprised to notice his own thighs and belly were slickly wet.

They didn’t say anything for the longest time. Chris didn’t move, barely dared even to breathe, and Joey was panting like his heart was racing too fast for his lungs to handle. The sheen of Crisco made Chris’s arms itchy, but he didn’t go to wash them off, though he should have.

"C’mere, man," Joey said, finally, reaching for Chris, who was still slimy and gross.

"Joe," Chris moaned, trying to escape his evil clutches, "I’m a baking product here."

Joey just smiled and wrestled him down onto the bed, holding Chris’s arms down with his own. "You and me both," Joey murmured, curling around Chris’s body and using his superior height to keep Chris still. Chris tried wriggling free, but Joey evidently really wanted to snuggle. "Give me fifteen minutes then you can go, all right? Just, don’t move at all."

Chris stretched out his neck in one last lunge for freedom then exhaled his acquiescence. Cuddling made him feel funny, and Joey knew it. Still, Chris supposed he owed Joey that for letting him do that, that fisting thing, to him. That was nice of him. Chris thought Joey deserved presents. It’d actually been rather hot, Chris thought, now that he was getting over the initial awe.

Joey fitted himself around Chris like he belonged there. His hand moved steadily slow, up and down Chris’s sides, from under his arm to his knee. It was comfortable and soothing. Chris found his own hand in Joey’s hair, playing with the soft strands and leaving them greasy with Crisco. He’d hadn’t used the arm, but it’d been a pretty messy adventure all over.

"I didn’t hurt you, did I?" Chris asked softly.

"Nope," Joey said. When he kissed Chris on the lips, Chris knew he meant it.

~~~

Whatever it was they had together, their most beloved dudes status, it took a strange turn after the fisting thing. Chris couldn’t look at Joey without thinking about what Joey had let him do, had trusted him to do. If Joey felt the same, he didn’t let on. Joey never let on about anything, especially stuff remotely serious. It was a quality Chris really admired. Chris flipped out at every possible opportunity, usually very stupidly.

There had reached some sort of unspoke agreement regarding music. The 1960's turned out to be the only decade they could agree upon. Chris found the 50's wishy-washy, which Joey took major offense to, and the 70's way too disco due to Abba, who Joey loved beyond all reason. On the flip side, Joey didn’t like some of the 80's, especially the punk era of terrible noise, which was reason enough for Chris to dump Joey’s sorry ass right there. Joey had also said his soul died in the 90's when grunge killed it. The 1960's didn’t come with any major complaints.

As a result, though, the house had suddenly turned into the stage of some overly gay musical. Joey always had the radio on, tuned to the Oldies Station. At first, Chris had actually thought Joey was trying to, like, fuck with head, but Joey wasn’t the type to do that. It was Joey’s usual station, he said, and he was not trying to make fun of Chris at all.

Chris stumbled downstairs for breakfast to Angel of the Morning playing. His mouth was open before his brain realised it was just playing into the overly gay musical of their lives. Happily, he warbled along with it at the top of his lungs as Joey swayed over a bowl of Cheerios.

Joey took the next song, which Chris thought was appropriate. Joey shimmied across the kitchen tiles, careful of his cereal as he wailed about his boyfriend being back. Chris provided backup, with his "hey la, hey la, my boyfriend’s back." He fucked up a couple times. Joey kept shaking his hips, spilling Cheerios all over the floor and making Chris laugh.

Chris gave up the pretense that he wasn’t totally into it when Duke of Earl started playing. It was like reliving a simpler time, when Chris had existed from pay cheque to pay cheque, and every day he’d felt incredibly alive and in charge of his own destiny. It was still like that, sometimes, but there were moments when Chris found the whole rich thing downright scary.

"I used to watch your set, you know, when you did the Hi-Tones," Joey said, after. Some song Chris didn’t actually know had started up. He took note of the lyrics in his head. He’d find the title on the internet later. "That one was my favourite that you guys did, that you did."

Chris nodded but didn’t say anything in return. Joey was looking at him strangely.

It was so different, and Chris couldn’t even figure out why. Something had changed irrevocably, and it pissed Chris off that he couldn’t control it any more than he could understand it. Joey had never used to look at him like that, like he could see inside Chris’s head, like he wanted to. Chris swallowed and looked away, his heart doing a jittery little dance in his chest.

Joey broke the moment with a low laugh. When Chris looked up, Joey was already there, grabbing him around the waist. The confusion worked to Joey’s benefit. Chris didn’t even realise they were dancing to When A Man Loves A Woman until mid-way through, and then it seemed to rude to make Joey stop. Still, Chris punched him in the stomach and called him a fucknut after. Joey fluttered his eyelashes, slapped him on the ass, and left Chris in the kitchen, smiling.

~~~

Chris was in Walmart at one-thirty in the morning, flipping through Cosmo, when the answer to his growing discomfort presented itself: the element of stupidity had somehow vanished in their adventures as most beloved dudes. Well, no, Chris could admit that he and Joey were still plenty stupid together, but it was the best solution Chris had managed to come up with. He still didn’t buy the Cosmo, though. Chris did have standards.

Chris waited a whole day until he was ready to pull it off. Mostly, he was waiting for fresh donuts, which hadn’t been available the night before. Proud of himself and his brilliant idea, Chris marched into a rundown donut store and ordered a single chocolate glazed. When they tried to bag it, he demanded a box. It rode in the passenger seat on the way home.

Chris and his donut waited until after dinner to put the moves on Joey. Chris would have done it sooner, but he didn’t want to ruin his appetite. Joey’s mom had dropped off a lasagna that morning, and Chris loved Phyllis’s lasagna like he loved his bike: a lot. A hell of a lot.

"I have something kinky I want to try," Chris said, chewing on some garlic bread.

"Yeah?" Joey looked up from his plate and reached for the red wine. "Will I like it?"

Chris huffed a little in jest and gestured wildly at himself, as if he simply could not believe Joey had the gall to ask him that. "Joe, c’mon, man. Of course you will." Chris put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I know exactly who I’m talking to," Joey replied, grinning.

"You’ll like it," Chris said, crisscrossing his fingers over his heart, "promise."

Joey reacted exactly like Chris had hoped, later. He took one look the donut then gawked at Chris then looked back at the donut. Chris had picked it out special for Joey, with a nice big hole in the middle and ropes of drizzled chocolate. Finally, Joey started laughing with a wide open mouth, his head thrown back on the couch. He laughed long and loud and hard.

"Are you serious?" Joey asked, shaking his head. Chris was already unzipping his pants.

"Hey, man. I read about it in Cosmo. It sounded cool and fun, and well, we like donuts, right?" Chris slapped at Joey’s hips until Joey lifted and let Chris pull off his briefs and jeans. He was only semi-hard, but once Chris got his hand on Joey’s dick, it started to fill. "It’ll be good."

"I trust you, man." Joey pulled off his own shirt. "Go on, you big freak."

Chris grinned. He took off his clothes then reached for the box, taking the donut out. He’d actually contemplated sprinkles in the store, but then he had visions of sprinkles in bad places and Joey pissing green and orange for the next week. That seemed to beg for an infection.

He took hold off Joey’s cock and haloed the tip with the donut. After a slight push of resistance, Chris managed to get the donut halfway down, leaving a smear of chocolate behind. Joey was watching him with a bemused expression, which melted away when Chris put his mouth on Joey’s dick and licked a little. Then Joey groaned, full and deep, still smiling.

Chris nibbled at the donut and at Joey’s shaft, making a sticky sweet mess. The sugar was supposed to tingle, and it definitely made his lips feel strange. He smeared the chocolate goo over Joey’s cockhead and let it sit as he went back to the donut, taking a bite of dough.

"God, this is so fucking bizarre," Joey said, laughter interlaced with hitched and heady breaths. His hips lifted from time to time as Chris leisurely snacked. The mixture of pre-come and chocolate icing was a nauseating blend, and he started feeling a little sick, but Joey’s amusement spurred him past the grossness. It felt great to give head to a guy warm with laughter.

Chris ate so much of the donut that eventually it fell apart to pieces on Joey’s lap. There was chocolate everywhere, and Chris licked at Joey’s shaft, feeling the stickiness all over his face. Joey must have taken this as an invitation or something, the loser. Chris got a face full of jizz, completely out of nowhere, entirely against his will or wanting. It went up his fucking nose.

"Joey! You absolute fuck!" Chris shouted, squishing his eyes shut. Joey was laughing so loud that Chris could feel his teeth shake, and he blindly slapped around his hand, hoping to get Joey in the nuts. Instead, Joey caught him by the wrist and held him still. He pressed a kiss to Chris’s mouth, but it couldn’t erase the scowl Chris wore. "If I could see you, I would kill you."

"I’ll get a towel," Joey said, still chuckling. "You’re something else, man."

Chris grinned, despite himself, and waited there, patient and very strangely happy.

~~~

Joey put on a bath while Chris splashed his face with water. He was sticky from his eyes to his elbows. There were crystals of sugar on his eyelashes, sparkling like diamonds, and Joey gently wiped them off with the damp corner of a washcloth. They stood there in Joey’s bathroom, wearing nothing but smiles. Chris stood still as Joey cleaned off the chocolate and the spunk.

"How old are you, Joe, fourteen? Shit."

"Shut up," Joey muttered, holding Chris’s chin between his fingers, dabbing at his face.

"You came," Chris said slowly, "in my face."

Joey grinned. "Shut up."

"You’ve made us into a bad porno, Joe."

"Shut up," Joey said, laughing.

Chris stuck out his tongue, and Joey caught it between his lips, turning it into a kiss. From time to time, Joey licked at a spot he had missed, tasting like sugar when he came back. When the tub was full, he walked Chris to it backwards, still kissing. Chris stepped into the steamy water, hissing at the sudden heat, then sunk down. Joey’s mouth left his, wet and open.

Chris watched as Joey slipped into the water, opening his thighs like he wanted Chris between them. Chris was quite happy sitting in the middle of the monster tub. He shook his head, and Joey didn’t make him. Chris rubbed idly his arms where sugar had caked, keeping his eyes on the ripple of the water. It came up to his nipples, and they hardened into tight nubs.

Chris was still watching the surface when a burst of bubbles broke it. When he looked up, Joey was grinning. Chris mustered all the strength inside of him and reciprocated, laughing when Joey clapped at the effort. It didn’t get much better than farting in the bathtub, Chris thought. When Joey opened his thighs again, Chris slipped between them.

They sat there awhile, occasionally making bubbles, but mostly just, well, cuddling, Chris supposed. In most languages, it would be called that. In Chris’s, it was questionable, but Chris accepted that few people understood him. Joey was giving it a good try, which was nice. At least he had been, until Joey said, brushing his hand up and down Chris’s back, breathing into his hair,

"You’re really beautiful, you know that?"

In that instant, Chris felt his world irrevocably unravel.

~~~

iv. the fortress of solitude.

It all started going heinously wrong when Chris began to over-think the entire situation and called his mom. Chris should have realised it would be a bad idea. They did come from the same genetic line, after all, and his mom was completely, one hundred percent, fucked up when it came to relationships. Still, he valued her honest opinion and always had.

"Nothing comes easy, sweetie, love most of all," she said. He could hear her clanking around, probably doing dishes. She had let him buy her a house, but she hadn’t wanted a dishwasher. It was too much, she had told him, and he had known exactly what she meant.

"Why not? I mean, is it possible for a relationship to be completely perfect, like, no fights or anything, even after weeks?" Chris asked again, locked in the bathroom, praying Joey was still asleep downstairs. It’d been a strange few days of cuddles on the couch, and random kisses in the hallway, and Joey calling him beautiful. Joey Fatone had called him beautiful, and Chris. Well, Chris didn’t quite know what to do about that, which was why he ended up on the phone.

His mom didn’t say anything for a long time then she said, "I don’t know, Chris."

Chris let that simmer for a few minutes, rolling it around in his head before he realised that, yeah, he agreed with the statement. As far he knew, real anything didn’t come easy. If you wanted something, you worked for it. Besides, it was Joey, and Joey wasn’t his type at all, which was why he asked, "Mom, if I said I was seeing someone, that it was pretty serious, who do you see with me?" Chris needed to feel sure about something, and he didn’t.

"Chris, sweetie," she said almost reluctantly.

"Mom, just tell me, please. I bring home someone I like. Who do you see?"

She sighed. "Taller than you. You like ‘em big. Large-breasted, because I obviously didn’t raise you well enough not to be a pig." Her voice was fond when she said it, so Chris smiled. It felt weird on his face, like it didn’t fit anymore. "Someone into sports, with a pretty face and very thin." She splashed around, clanging dishes together. "Why?"

"I was just checking," Chris said, softly. "Thanks."

"Chris, sweetie." She paused and dropped something into the sink. Something big from the sound of it. There was a loud plop. "Why are you asking me this? Are you seeing someone?"

"Not really," Chris said. It was true, mostly. They’d never sat down and talked about it.

"Chris, ignore everything I just told you. You know better than to ask me stuff like this," his mom said. She actually sounded mad. It came out so strong that he could almost feel her reaching out to shake some sense into him. Good luck, he thought miserably, good fucking luck.

~~~

Justin called a short while after, making himself into the second opinion. Chris figured he’d do since Justin wasn’t quite as scarred by love as his mom. Close, but not entirely. Plus, unlike Justin, Chris didn’t tell his mom everything. Maybe she was missing some vital piece of information about him that he’d never shared. Justin was good for random insight.

"Okay, so what you’re telling me is that you’re in a great relationship, and you’re wondering if you should break up with this nameless person because it’s too easy?" Justin sounded completely baffled, and when he put it that way, Chris couldn’t blame him. "You know, I shouldn’t be the one telling you this because we both know I’m talking out my ass, but sometimes, love does come easy."

Chris chewed at his nail. It was already bloody and gross, but he couldn’t help himself. "It’s too easy, though. I don’t expect a foetus like you to understand, but these things need to be fought for. A clever seduction doesn’t just lead to the best relationship of my adult life. Well, ideally it does, but in the real world, it doesn’t. Everyone would be happy if it did."

"Okay. How drunk are you?"

Chris looked at his bottle of water. "I’m actually not at all. I should be, but I’m sober."

Justin sighed. In the background, Chris could hear people talking about rigs and lighting and stuff. They sounded English. Chris counted back and sure enough, Justin would be in England. Merry old England. Fine place, that. "I can’t help you, man. I don’t know what you want to hear, and I used up my best cliché. Have you tried C?"

"No," Chris said glumly.

"Lance?"

"No."

"Joey?"

Chris moaned. "I can’t ask him, man. Don’t be an idiot."

"I know Joey’s track record sucks, but remember Ben? That was kinda blissful while it lasted. Best relationship I’ve ever seen. They only really broke up because Ben couldn’t handle the pressure of Joey’s celebrity, which I can’t blame him for. It sucks, man, it really does, for all of us. We’re doomed."

"Will you shut up? Stop mentioning Ben!"

"It’s Joey, isn’t it?" Justin chortled merrily and whooped like a frat boy. Justin made Trace yell with him into the phone until Chris’s ears were ringing. "Ha! You thought you could fool me and my superior skills of deduction. You thought wrong, ass." Justin hooted for his own regained manhood. "Good for you, Chris. Bloody marvellous, as the Brits would say!"

"I hate you," Chris said. There was no excuse for a bad fake English accent, especially coming from Justin. "I hope you know how much I really, really hate you."

"Even more than Gavin Rossdale?"

"And then some!" Chris shouted. He took some pleasure when he heard something crash on Justin’s end of it. He hoped it was big and heavy, and that it fell on Justin, though he would settle for Trace. Justin swore loudly, and a lot of chipper English voices chimed in, so Chris was putting his money on the former. "Anyway, you’re useless. I’m never calling you again."

"I called you."

"Whatever," Chris said and hung up before they could exchange mumbled ‘love you’s.’

Later, when Chris couldn’t sleep, even with Joey tucked up against him and making him feel safe and comfortable, he had to call Justin back, just to hear it. Thankfully, Justin didn’t make him talk about it all again, just mumbled, "love you, man," and Chris said "love you, too" back, and he finally slept.

~~~

The next morning, Chris woke up before Joey and crept out into the backyard, sticking his bare feet into the warm water of the pool. He really loved that pool. Quickly, he dialled the number for Dani on his cell before he could chicken out then waited impatiently for it to ring. It wasn’t quite nine yet on the west coast. It rang eight times before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Dani, hi," he said, already stumbling over his words. "Um, how are you?"

"I’m fine." She paused. "How are you?"

"Good," he said. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. There had been a time when they had the world to say to each other, but that was gone now. Completely gone, from what Chris could tell. They hadn’t talked since FuMan had gone under. Dani had sent him a couple friendly emails, and he’d ignored them. "Life treating you good?"

"Same old, same old. I’m working for ESPN now, did I tell you that?"

"That’s awesome," he said. "I’m glad you found another job after, well, you know."

"Yeah, I wasn’t too worried, but it’s nice to have a steady pay cheque." Dani paused again then cleared her throat. In the background, a deep voice was speaking. New boyfriend, Chris thought. "Listen, Chris, I love hearing from you, but is there any reason you called? It’s pretty out of the blue, this phone call. We haven’t talked in months. Is there something wrong?"

"No," Chris said. When he looked back, he could see Joey in the kitchen, eating a banana. He lifted his hand and flopped his fingers around. Smiling, Chris waved back. "I was just thinking about you. I gotta go, anyway. Stuff to do. I’ll talk to you later. Be good, okay?"

"I will," Dani said, hesitating on some unspoken concern. Chris braced himself, but she must have decided against it. She murmured a quiet, "bye," and then she was gone.

~~~

After the phone call to Dani, Chris called his mom back to apologise for playing her like he did. He was man enough to admit he’d done exactly that. But she wasn’t home, and he didn’t quite know what to say to her machine besides, "it’s Chris, just checking in, bye." Not one of his more memorable messages, but he’d at least tried. He still felt weird about everything, though.

It was made worse by Joey, who sat down beside him and stuck his feet into the pool, too. When Chris didn’t even look up, Joey grabbed for his hand then spoke only when their eyes met. "Listen, man, about what I said in the tub. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. You know I’m a big sap sometimes, and I kinda let my emotions run away with me. Forgive me?"

Chris looked down at where Joey’s fingers circled his wrist. "It’s okay, man. I’m fine."

"You sure? Cuz, Chris, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. That was never my intention," Joey said, lowering his head until he caught Chris’s eyes again. They looked at each other for a moment before Joey sat up straight again. "Okay. I believe you."

"Thanks," Chris said, poking his toe at a leaf on the surface. "You wanna go swimming?"

~~~

Sometimes, Chris felt guilty, sitting next to Joey and laughing at his terrible jokes. Sitting there and pretending that he was totally into it, that he wasn’t freaking out inside like a lunatic. Joey seemed so fine with it, so much happier than he’d been in months, and less lonely, too. It’d been hell watching Joey stumble around, alone. It was still hell now, but for different reasons. Joey could do so much better than him. Chris had so much shit weighing him down.

Sometimes, Chris really wanted Joey to notice his issues, to make him talk about them, to force him to confront them, but other times, Chris was glad Joey didn’t force him to dwell on them. It helped Chris ignore them, too. He could do that. Ignore them and they would fade. He kept telling himself that. Every time his belly got uneasy, he made himself listen.

~~~

"You wanna drive to Miami with me so I can pick up my mail?" Chris asked one morning as he brushed his teeth, sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. Joey was shaving at the sink, covered in white foam from his nose to his nipples. "Susan says I have some packages."

"Porn?" Joey asked.

"Mostly, I think. A couple records I bought off this guy from ebay, but mostly porn."

"Gay or straight?" Joey dragged the razor down his cheek, leaving a bloody mess in its wake. Fresh from the shower, he was wearing only a towel. One tug would probably get rid of it. Once Chris’s teeth were clean, he would do just that. He just needed to wait for the perfect moment to start putting the moves on Joey. "Or freaky shit I shouldn’t know about?"

"Eh," Chris said, "a smorgasbord, if you will. Why limit myself?"

Joey worked at his other cheek, pulling at the scruff. Joey had the coarsest facial hair Chris had ever come across. There were patchy red marks all over his body from Joey. Chris wasn’t complaining, of course, but it was kinda itchy. "Sure, then. We can stay a few days."

Chris nodded then yawned around his toothbrush. "When do you have to go to LA?"

"I dunno." Joey lifted a washcloth to his face and started wiping the shaving cream from his face. Chris already had a handtowel ready in his hand. Joey took it when the foam was gone. "Next week, maybe? Week after that. I seriously have no idea. They’ll call me if I’m late."

Chris leaned around Joey to spit into the sink. With the back of his hand, he wiped the toothpaste from his lips then lifted himself to sit on the counter. Joey was busy applying fingertips of pressure to various bloody dots. Chris donated his thumb to the effort, pressing down on Joey’s chin. "You’re way too easygoing, man."

"And you’re the picture of road rage, man."

"Oh," Chris said, grinning, "we balance. How quaint. Let’s have sex."

And with that, Chris gave Joey’s towel one quick yank. It fluttered to the ground.

~~~

The drive down was surprisingly pleasant. They fought over music, like Chris suspected they would, but Joey trumped him with the "my car, my music, my rules" card. Joey liked dangerously mellow driving tunes, like Simon and Garfunkel and Coldplay. Chris spent most of his time sleeping, blanketed by one of Joey’s jackets. Joey also really liked his A/C.

Chris woke up when Joey shook him by the shoulder. He was big and overly warm, despite the blast of arctic cold from the vents, and he smelled really good. Chris realised Joey probably smelled the same as he always had, but somehow, it was better. Sometimes, after they fucked, Chris could smell himself all over Joey’s heated skin, and that was insanely sexy.

"You want anything man?"

Joey’s mouth was really close, and Chris lifted his own, parting his lips. "You paying?"

"Sure." Joey smiled, and Chris raised his head the rest of the way, stealing a kiss. The windows weren’t tinted, so it was way dangerous and, thus, a major turn on. The fact he was still sleepy played down the illicit thrill of it all, so Chris let Joey go without much protest. "Sugar?"

Chris smacked his lips together and nodded. "Yes, please."

~~~

Between conserving all his energy and eating all that sugar, Chris was pretty wound up by the time they rolled into his Miami house. It was pretty late, and once the garage door shut with a bang, Chris pulled Joey into the backseat of his Explorer and started getting undressed.

"You are not serious," Joey said, but he already had his tee-shirt off and was pulling at the zipper on his jeans. Chris felt like pointing out that if he didn’t have a hard on, that zipper would be coming down, no problems. They tossed all their clothing out the open window.

Chris rubbed his fingers over Joey’s collarbones and sexed his mouth until it was puffy and pink. Joey’s hand snaked between them and gripped their cocks, and yeah, that was really fucking nice. Chris couldn’t do shit like that without getting cramps in his fingers or crushing their dicks, but Joey. Joey had nice big hands, and long fingers, and knew how to stroke a cock. The stale air quickly brought them both to a hearty sweat, which made it even hotter.

"You want me to find a condom?" Joey asked between kisses, when Chris was licking down his throat, and across his jaw, and at his temples. The salty sweet taste of Joey’s skin was pretty delicious, and Joey was very facially sensitive. He especially liked having his ears kissed.

"Are you fine with this? I’m fine with this."

Chris wriggled down on Joey’s lap, really loving the glide of his dick against Joey’s. Their dicks, Chris knew, looked very similar, except Joey had been cut and Chris hadn’t been, so after, when they were lying in pieces, fallen to bits due the hottest sex ever, it’d be no problem figuring out which one belonged to whom. When Chris whispered that to Joey, Joey laughed.

~~~

Chris woke up from a dream, screaming. In it, he and Joey were getting married. Chris wore the white gown and Joey looked dapper in an Armani suit. It was the most perfect wedding ever, and everybody cried, and they lived happily ever after in a quaint little house with a white picket fence and three adorable kids. When he shot up in bed, it was dark, and his throat felt raw.

"That dream about falling again?" Joey asked sleepily, putting his arm across Chris’s belly and pulling him down to the bed. Still panting, he shook his head. Joey hummed and murmured then started drifting off again, his face pressed flush against Chris’s neck.

"Wait," Chris said, "wake up, man. We have to fight."

Joey yawned. He didn’t open his eyes. "It’s three in the morning, Chris."

"I don’t care." Chris put a hand on his chest. It felt like his heart was trying to rip out of his chest, like in Aliens, with slime and teeth and scary. "C’mon. Yell so much that I stomp off and sleep on the couch." Joey’s breath was getting wheezy again. "Joe! We have to fight!"

"We’ll fight tomorrow," Joey murmured. He smacked his lips together and tried to pull Chris closer, but Chris wasn’t going for it. He started wiggling, helplessly flailing a little. Joey merely rolled away from him and onto his back, yawning again. "Go to sleep, Chris."

"Joe," Chris said, urgently. He was feeling a little hysterical. "Joe. Joe!"

"Tomorrow, I promise."

"Now," Chris said. "C’mon. I’ll even tell you why we’re fighting. You’re pissed cuz I won’t admit we’re boyfriends, and that we," Chris blanched, "like. We like each other very much." He almost said the other l-word. That was too damn close. "And I’m annoying."

"You sure are," Joey muttered.

"Joe," Chris said seriously, "I am just using you for sex."

"Okay, if you say so. Just let me sleep, or else I’ll be impotent." Joey rolled over onto his side, so the broad flat of his back was all Chris could see. Under the blankets, he rubbed his feet together like a cricket. The A/C was blasting, as usual. Chris started shivering. "Good night."

"I don’t replace the toiler paper roll when we run out," Chris said miserably.

"That’s fine," Joey murmured, "neither do I."

~~~

In the morning, Chris stumbled downstairs to find Joey scrambling eggs with cheese. Bacon chittered in the frying pan, a greasy delicious mess. Chris slunk into one of his chairs and started playing with the salt and pepper shakers. Every time he spilled some salt, he tossed a dab of it over his shoulder.

"Was last night your meathead way of telling me you don’t want to do this anymore?" Joey finally asked. He put a plate down in front of Chris then came back a few seconds later with a pan of eggs and a spatula. Joey kept his voice strangely even, completely devoid of anything that betrayed what he was thinking.

Stupid actors, Chris thought, then shook his head. "It was just me being dumb."

"Okay," Joey said. When he came back from the stove a third time, he had his own plate and two glasses of OJ balanced precariously in his hand. Chris took them both so Joey could sit down. Meekly, Chris pushed the salt and pepper in Joey’s direction. Joey put heaping mountains on his eggs then started mashing everything up into an even bigger mess.

Chris poked glumly at his eggs with his fork. "What if we never break up?"

"What? The group?" Joey asked, already chewing. Joey swallowed then took a drink. He had a little string of orange cheese on his lower lip. "Or us?" When Chris didn’t reply, Joey shrugged. "I’d be happy either way, man. Nobody wants to be lonely, right? Even J admits it gets kinda lonely on the road, and I like having someone in my bed. I’m not complaining. You make life exciting. Nsync makes life exciting. That’s all I really want, to enjoy myself."

"But it’s me," Chris said.

"It is indeed you," Joey agreed. He shovelled another mouthful of eggs in, taking the rogue string of cheese as he did. His lips gleamed with grease. When Joey licked at them, it just made his mouth wetter. "I don’t know, Chris. I’ve put up with you for eight years as a close friend and a couple weeks as a lover. I can probably go for a lot longer, if I wanted."

"Lover," Chris said. "You just called me your lover!"

"Sorry." Joey took another swig of OJ then held up his glass. "My most beloved dude."

"That’s better," Chris said. Tentatively, he ate a bit of the eggs, making sure there was enough gooey cheese to counteract whatever Joey did to them. "Hey, these aren’t half bad."

Joey smirked. "I can scramble eggs, Chris."

Chris chewed a cheese-less mouthful, and they were still pretty good. No horrid aftertaste or anything.

"You still wanna fight?" Joey asked.

"Nah," Chris said, "that’s okay."

~~~

The hung around Chris’s house, watching porn and movies, before heading back to Orlando. A few weeks back, Chris had agreed to host a night at a local club every Thursday, so they had no choice but to return to Joey’s house. Chris liked Joey’s house better. The pool, for one, and for two, his garage looked like the Fortress of Solitude, which kicked ass.

Joey showed up once during Chris’s hosting duties, but after seeing him glistening with sweet and flirting like mad with girls, Chris realised if he showed up again, they would have to have sex on the dance floor instead of in the office. They’d narrowly made it there in time that night, and Chris didn’t expect them to have such a run of luck twice.

Eventually, though, Joey got a call from his agent telling him he was supposed to be in LA, like, three days ago. At four in the morning, Chris drove him to the airport and tried not to be a suck about it. For the next few weeks, their schedules were insane. Well, Joey’s schedule was insane. Chris was probably going to vary between sitting on his ass and playing golf.

They sucked face in the short term parking lot for a few minutes before Joey pulled back and said, "I gotta go check in, man. They like to fuck with me and search my luggage every damn time. If they make me miss my flight again, man, I’m gonna be so pissed."

"I’d pay to see that," Chris said, "you angry. Sounds kinda hot."

Chris could have probably counted all of his teeth if he wanted, Joey smiled so big.

"If I have a break in my schedule," Chris had lied and told Joey he had lots to do, "maybe I’ll fly out to LA and hang out. That Fame thing can’t take all your time, right?"

"I sure hope not." Joey slapped a hand on Chris’s thigh and squeezed. From all the kissing, Chris was still sporting a rapidly wilting hard on. That touch perked it right up again. Joey noticed and playfully grabbed it. "Yeah, come out and we’ll par-tay."

"Okay," Chris said. "See you then, hot stuff."

One last kiss, and Joey was gone.

~~~

v. against all odds.

It was a good thing Chris had got all that porn in the mail, or he wouldn’t know what to do with himself once Joey was gone. They’d been having so much great sex that Chris realised he couldn’t just leave his dick alone and expect it to be satisfied. He’d wake up in the middle of the night with a raging boner. At noon, he’d still have morning wood. By dinner, he was trying not to touch himself through his jeans while he watched the news. So porn, and lots of it.

"You and Joey still together?" Justin asked when Chris called and finally got through. He’d been trying all day. Chris’s skin was itching with something akin to sadness, and he’d realised, quite suddenly, that he missed Joey a lot, more than he could almost stand, being all alone in Joey’s house. Calling Justin seemed like a solution to something.

"I think so," Chris said. "He invited me out to LA. Well, I invited myself, but whatever. Still, there’s an offer open to visit him, and he sounded sincere about it. Well, not that Joey ever sounds insincere, but you know what I’m saying." Chris flopped a hand through the air to clear the babble. The stink of it was strong, and Chris sucked so bad. Him, and his dumbass mouth.

Justin hummed. "Yet you’re still in Orlando, living in his house. Chris, you are living in Joey’s house when he isn’t there." From the random emphasis Justin was making on words, Chris knew he was getting excited, so he held the phone away from his ear as Justin yelled, "Go to LA, man! You are such a loser! Stop being a tool! You’re a damned self-sabotager!"

When Justin had worn himself out, Chris said, "Well, I don’t want to appear desperate. ‘Sides, I told him I had stuff to do." Chris had, too. He’d made excuses, and now he was all depressed because those excuses prevented him from running across the country after Joey.

Justin moaned in exasperation. "But you don’t, you ass!"

"No, not really. Firestone is totally about to get shut down, man. Once that’s over, I have nothing else to fill my time. I’m feeling uninspired musically, so working on my album is totally out. I’ve already rearranged the furniture in every room of Joey’s house, and Joe’s gonna kill me for that. I bought a small army of romance novels from the grocery store and read them all already. I’m beyond bored, man. I was thinking about Vegas, gamble a bit, do some golfing."

Justin whistled. "I wish I could be there with you, man. It sounds like a blast."

"See, I do live an exciting and full life when I’m alone, too." Chris brought his thumb to his mouth and started chewing at his newest hangnail. "And don’t think I didn’t hear that comment about sabotaging my own happiness. I resent the implication that I do, Timberlake. I’m just being careful. In fairytales, you fall in." Chris swallowed hard. He almost said it, the l-word, again. "You fall in like with your best friend and live happily ever after. It’s going to blow up, this thing, just watch. It’s too good to be true. It’s Joey, for fuck’s sake. If nothing else, he deserves better."

"I don’t know," Justin said. "If I swung that way, I’d be plenty happy with you. You’re not a dog, and you’re hot in bed from what I’ve heard, and you’ve got money. Work in the killer sense of humour and the ability to carry a conversation, and you’re the best boyfriend ever."

Chris stared at the phone for a long time before saying, "I’m pretending you didn’t say any of that shit."

"I’m just saying."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, don’t. You’re freaking me out. Listen, you haven’t told anybody else about Joey and me, right?"

"No," Justin said. "I didn’t want to get C’s hopes up, and I haven’t talked to Lance."

Chris sucked on his thumb. It was bleeding now, and wasn’t that just the icing on the fucking dumbass cake? "Don’t, okay? No one, Justin, not even your mom. If you’ve told her already, tell her we’re not doing it anymore. I don’t need the additional pressure."

"Jeez. All right. No one. I still think this is good for you, and you sound so much better, man. Better than I’ve heard you sound in months. I was worried, you know." Justin made a strange humming noise in his throat before he said, "can you at least. I mean, I can only guess at how you really feel, but. Please don’t fuck this up, Chris, not for yourself and not for Joey."

"Nobody’s getting a happy ending," Chris said, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Somehow, talking to Justin was actually making him feel worse. "I mean it, Justin. It’s impossible, okay? So neither of us can get our hopes up about anything. No happy ending."

"Okay. No happy ending. I get it, Chris." Justin coughed, which meant he was getting ready to change the subject. When Justin asked, "hey, speaking of no happy endings, are you as excited about Radiohead’s new album as I am?" Chris let go of the breath he’d been holding.

~~~

Chris’s only human contact was Robbie, who came every Tuesday morning and Thursday afternoon to tidy up Joey’s place. He was a nice kid and didn’t mind the fact that Chris followed him around, chatting idly about nothing in particular. Robbie liked golf, though he wasn’t very good at it. Chris assured him that it was enough just to love the game. Chris sucked at golf, too.

"I don’t mean to be nosy," Robbie said over a cup of cocoa, "but are you and Mr. Fatone, you know." He flopped a hand through the air as his eyes shifted downward to the cloud of puffy white marshmallows and steam. "Oh, forgive me for asking, Mr. Kirkpatrick."

"Did you sign a confidentiality agreement?"

"Yeah," Robbie said.

"Then, yeah, I guess. I don’t know. It’s complicated, you know? We work together, and I’m a little unstable, not in a scary way," Chris quickly added. He didn’t want Robbie to think he was a psychopath or something, no way. "But in a bitter, cynical way. I’m the guy you don’t bring home to you family." Chris sighed. "I’m a meathead, and I have a fear of commitment."

"So does Jared," Robbie admitted. "Plus, he’s closeted, and I’m not. It’s difficult."

"Men," Chris said and sighed.

"Men," Robbie agreed and sipped his cocoa.

~~~

It would go to figure that Chris woke up one morning, buried up to his hair in the comforter, with Lance walking around the bedroom and opening up windows, yelling for Joey to wake up and get out of bed. Lance, who had dropped off the face of the planet since the Grammy’s and not returned a single phone call Joey made to him. They figured he was still alive, but it was nice to have confirmation. Well, nice in a way that made Chris want to kill him.

Lance, obviously exasperated, finally yanked back the covers. Chris, who hadn’t bothered with clothes the night before, pulled the pillow of his head. Chris hadn’t gone to bed until four, distracted by the softcore porn on Cinemax. Fucking Lance had woken him up hours too soon.

"Chris, what are you doing in Joey’s bed? Where’s Joey? What’s going on?"

"Why are you here?" Chris moaned, reaching for the covers. It involved opening his eyes, and he did so reluctantly. Chris was bare-assed and hard as hell, and Lance was totally staring at him, the fucker. "It’s eleven in the fucking morning."

"Joey said drop by whenever," Lance said.

"He’s in LA," Chris said. "I’m sure the offer still stands. Have a nice trip. Goodbye."

Lance sat down at the bottom of the bed. "You’re naked." He sounded a little dazed.

"Wow, you have eyes, Lance. What a wonderful discovery. Now, fuck off."

"Should I ask, or should I just assume?"

"If you ask, I’m not saying nothing, so make whatever assumptions you like, just get the hell out of our room, and let me get the prescribed eight hours of sleep. I’ll see you around one o’clock. Don’t make me open up a can," Chris added with all the threatening overtones he could muster.

"Fine." Lance stood up, sighing loudly. "You’re such a bitch, Chris."

"Takes one to know one," Chris snapped back.

~~~

Closer to two than one, Chris wandered downstairs, freshly dressed and showered. Lance was on the couch, watching one of Chris’s DVDs of porn. Straight porn, of course. What else could be expected from Lance, who was utterly vanilla and wholesome and, well, straight?

"Sorry about that," Chris said, scratching a hand through his damp hair.

Lance jumped then fumbled the tv remote, likely searching for the stop button. "I know you’re bad in the mornings. I’ve spent years on a bus with Joey, Chris. I can take the abuse of a sleep-deprived man." Lance finally found it, and he hit the button so hard Chris thought he broke it. The tv flickered to blackness. When Lance looked up, he was red. "Joe’s seriously in LA?"

"Seriously," Chris said. He dropped down onto the couch. "I should be there."

"Ah," Lance said.

Chris turned his head to glare at Lance, who looked healthier than he had looked in years. Bright and cheery around the eyes, a big helpless grin plastered on his face, no fake tan dripping from his skin. "Why with the ‘ah,’ man. You say it like you know something I don’t."

"Well, I’ve just gone past the assumption that two of my friends are seeing each other. I’m taking it as fact, even though you obviously have no desire to actually tell me if I’m right."

Chris sucked his lips into his mouth. Nothing, he was saying absolutely nothing.

"Also," Lance continued, "I sat on the bed where the two of you have, quite likely, had sex, and now I’m a little freaked out. Knowing Joey, he hasn’t changed the sheets in months, and Robbie’s housekeeping duties don’t extend to laundry."

"Why not?"

"Joey likes the challenge of the washing machine and the dryer. Don’t ask me why. I think his mother brainwashed him at a very young age." Lance smirked, shark-toothed and self-satisfied. Chris regretted ever asking. "Plus, he doesn’t want his shorts ending up on ebay."

"If we ever talked about laundry, I’d know that," Chris said, "and I have sucked his dick. Bet you’ve never done that, huh?" Chris lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe Lance did know Joey a little better, but Chris knew him intimately in an intimate way.

"I’ll take that as confirmation. Thank you."

"You’re a manipulative little bastard, Bass," Chris said fondly, reaching over to muss Lance’s hair. Lance tried to duck away, which was the fatal mistake. It meant Chris had to jump on him and torture his scalp until Lance was shrieking like the little girl Chris knew he was.

~~~

Chris struck gold over lunch. "So where have you been, O elusive Bass."

"Nowhere," Lance said, but he ducked his head and blushed a little bit, which totally meant he was lying through his teeth. Most people fawned over Lance’s sweetness and light act, but Chris had known him too long to fall for it.

Under the table, Chris kicked at his shins. "Tell me, Bass. I told you. You owe me."

"You know," Lance drawled, tucking his legs under his body so he was all folded up and perched on his seat. Pre-astronaut Bass hadn’t been that flexible. Sometimes, Chris was struck by the difference. "There is something about you that reduces me to the mental age of thirteen. Hell, I wasn’t this boneheaded when I was thirteen. You’re a bad influence, Chris."

Chris pointed at him over his uneaten pre-meal salad. "You are changing the subject."

Lance sighed. "I’m seeing someone. Someone I really like. That’s where I’ve been."

"Ooh," Chris said, "dish, darling."

"Her name is Hannah. She’s an accountant. She bicycles to work everyday. I have a picture, if you want to see. I was going to show Joey, but I wouldn’t mind someone who actually appreciates a beautiful woman. Not that he doesn’t, but he’s got such a," Lance dropped his voice and leaned forward, "queer taste in these things." Lance was already fumbling for his wallet.

She was beautiful and hot and, from what he could tell, absolutely perfect for Lance. They had the same sort of sly grin and devilish gleam in their eyes. She was also, Chris noticed, a good few inches taller than poor short Lance, but Chris didn’t comment. It wasn’t like Joey didn’t tower over him, and he knew it took a real man to own up to the fact he was eclipsed.

"Bass," Chris said, "you done good, boy."

"Yeah." Lance beamed at the picture. "I know."

~~~

Since Lance didn’t have anything else to do for a while, and Chris’s schedule was open, they flew to LA together. Lance had actually just come from LA, since Hannah lived there. Chris thought it was lucky Lance was such a nice guy. If Joey sent him on a wild goose chase across three times zones via airplane, Chris would have taken a meat cleaver to his dick at their next meeting.

Lance babbled happily about Hannah. She’s been a secret way too long, Chris feared, and Lance was totally keen on her. By the end of the flight, Chris was sure he would know their entire history. He had to admit, it sounded blissfully wonderful, except on one terrifying count.

"That sounds a lot like me and, um." Chris looked around. "You-know-who."

"Well, it would. You-know-who is pretty laid back. Reminds me a lot of Hannah, actually. She doesn’t put up with even a whiff of shit. It’s refreshing," Lance admitted, nodding. He paused as the steward came with their rum and cokes. "So you two are serious, then?"

Chris slumped in his seat. "If we are, I don’t want to know about it."

Lance handed Chris his drink. "I was like that, too. All good things, you know?"

"No, I don’t, Cliché Boy." Chris swallowed the rum in coke in two gulps. "It’s been how long, with you and Hannah. A month or two?"

"Since Russia, actually. She was one of the negotiators. It wasn’t until we got back to America that she put the moves on me. Tired of waiting, I think. Lord knows I wasn’t going to do it. You’ve seen my track record with these things," Lance said, wryly. His forehead wrinkled.

"You-know-who put the moves on me," Chris moaned.

Lance stirred his drink with his pinky. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. You-know-who was making noises about being lonely, thinking about getting back into the game. You probably stumbled right into the middle of it, Chris, and well, it was only a matter of time before you-know-who tried. With you.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lance sighed. “Well, you-know-who makes these rash decisions sometimes in the unending quest for personal happiness. You know that. It's admirable you-know-who lasted this long.”

“You-know-who should have realised I was too much trouble.”

Lance glanced over. He looked thoughtful. “Well, you can’t help love, I guess. I mean, Hannah would be much better off without me, but trying telling her that.”

“Oh, you shut up, with the l-word and shit. I don’t need to hear that, Lance.”

Lance sipped his drink again, raising his eyebrows over the edge of the glass. “Do you even know what you need to hear, Chris?”

“No, just. Why’s it gotta be so perfect, man? All I’m asking for is a little drama, a fight or two over me not taking off my shoes in the house or leaving shit on the stairs. A little reality, if you will. If it’s real then I know it’ll at least stand a chance. Right now, it’s so goddamn perfect," Chris said, looking around for the steward. He desperately needed another drink.

Lance chuckled. "I’m told my version of reality is warped and overly pessimistic."

"Do you believe her?"

"I gotta," Lance said, "or she’ll kick my ass."

~~~

They cabbed it to the address Chris had hastily scribbled down at a stoplight on the day he drove Joey to the airport. The lights were on, which was a good thing, but Chris still made Lance ring the doorbell. It wasn’t Joey but JC who answered the door. He was a little tipsy.

"Dawgs," JC said, grabbing them in some simultaneous weird hug thing. Whatever it was, Chris’s earrings got caught on JC’s watch, and he nearly lost an ear. JC petted it in apology then dragged them inside before the neighbours started to gather. "You’re just in time."

Chris looked around Joey’s swinging bachelor pad as JC dragged them by the wrists down the long, narrow hallway. There was a rumble of television in the distance. "Dare I ask?"

"A little game of Life!"

It’d been a while since they’d all gotten together for boards games. The Grammy’s were too busy, and it was hard to get all five of them on one continent. The last, if Chris remembered correctly, was right after the wax figures thing. Even then, it’d been a quick game of Missions Risk, not the superior World Domination Risk, since there hadn’t been much time then either.

Before they started, Joey jogged to the kitchen to refresh their drinks. Chris followed under the guise of providing extra hands to bring the refreshments back with. Once there, Joey pushed him up against the fridge and kissed him until Chris’s knees bowed. It’d been too fucking long. They parted only reluctantly when Lance started shouting for them to hurry up.

"I’m glad you came," Joey said. When his lips moved, Chris could feel them on his own.

"Me too," Chris said then gently pushed Joey away so they could make drinks. All Chris really wanted to do was fuck Joey in his kitchen, to kiss him and suck him, to do whatever he could, but the others were waiting, and Chris was feeling way too strange to think clearly on it.

It was really fucking nice to sit around Joey’s coffee table and play the dorkiest game in existence, even if he actually hated Life. Chris always got more kids than he could fit into his little orange car, trying to raise them on a teacher’s salary. This time was no different, and he was so gonna lose. Thankfully, Joey wasn’t fairing much better with his journalist’s wages, his lack of insurance for anything, and his blue car full of four young boys. The game was really between Lance and JC, both childless stock-market-lucky lawyers.

Justin called Chris on his cell midway through, so he got passed around the table. At Joey, Chris found himself wincing. He knew, deep in his belly, that nothing good was going to come of this. So far, Chris had completely avoided the topic of their most beloved dudes status, even though Lance kept looking at him expectantly.

"Uh huh," Joey said, staring across the table at Chris. "Yep, well. Uh huh. Really?"

Joey had his arm around JC as they leaned together. Chris had never noticed before how much Joey touched JC and how much JC let him. Hands in his hair, a head tilted on his shoulder, JC was a big old slut for physical contact. Chris knew this as well as he knew his own CD collection. Still, his large intestine was currently coiled around his balls in a knot of jealously.

I have turned into a psycho hosebeast, Chris thought, watching how Joey unconsciously rubbed over JC’s back as he laughed at something Justin said. Joey could touch whoever the hell he wanted. Joey wasn’t sleeping with JC because, despite all appearances to the contrary, JC was fabulously straight. Joey wasn’t sleeping with JC because Joey was sleeping with Chris. Not right then, of course, but that night, yes. If he tried to get out of it, Chris would tie him up.

~~~

"You think C knows?" Chris asked, sprawled out on Joey’s bed wearing only his briefs. He still wasn’t entirely convinced JC and Joey weren’t boinking like rabbits. Well, except that JC had babbled continuously about the latest hot model he’d gotten into his bed, some chick from Sweden who wore a size two and had the most perfect boobs in the world. "Or did you tell him?"

"I told him," Joey admitted. "Lance called from the airport, and I felt bad. You know he gets all bitchy when he thinks he’d been left out of the loop." Joey slithered out of his jeans then kicked them into the corner. "He’s cool, man. I told him not to expect a wedding invitation."

"Oh, I see how it is. You take me to bed, then you don’t marry me. Fine!"

Joey paused, his briefs midway down his thighs. "Are you serious?"

"I don’t know," Chris muttered. He lifted his hands and rubbed them vigorously over his face. "I can’t figure this fucking out. Since when are we made for each other? Why didn’t you seduce me earlier? Why am I so fucking jealous and happy and horny all the goddamn time?"

Joey knelt at the end of the bed, wearing only his tee-shirt. He crawled up between Chris’s legs then settled there, his chin resting on Chris’s belly. Chris puffed out his stomach to watch Joey’s head lift then let it deflate, watching it fall. "Again, are you serious?"

"Why me, Joe?" Chris moaned. "Why, of all the men in the universe, is it me?"

Joey seemed to think he was serious that time. He sighed. "Why not?"

"It just shouldn’t be," Chris said, combing his fingers through Joey’s hair. It was coarse and tangled, despite being only an inch long. "I shouldn’t live in your house for a week and have it feel like mine. I shouldn’t want to break C’s legs because he gets to - please shoot me for saying this, by the way - cuddle with you on the couch."

Joey smiled. "So you’re happy with me. So what? That’s a good thing, Chris."

"Can’t we just fight a little? You can call me a self-centred prick. I’ll only pretend to be angry, then we can have hot make up sex." Chris exhaled sharply, staring at the ceiling. Joey’s head was a solid weight on his belly. "This isn’t real. I need reality."

"Your reality. Mine is a lot less complicated. Good sex, good conversation, good life."

"Oh, god," Chris said. Joey was mouthing around Chris’s underwear, running his lips over Chris’s semi hard on, and Chris just couldn’t care. He couldn’t! He was freaking out, and Joey, one track mind Joey, was trying to give him potentially mind-blowing head. It was a terrible day when Chris Kirkpatrick could not appreciate oral sex. "We’re married, aren’t we? C’s been right all along. We’re all married. You and me are the only ones consummating it."

"You are killing the mood," Joey mumbled. With his teeth, he started edging down Chris’s briefs, clamped onto the waistband. Chris thought about fighting it, but hysteria made his arms weak. He could only lie there and let Joey do it. "Relax, Chris. Nobody’s getting married. Don’t make me go all queer activist on you and explain precisely why I refuse commitment ceremonies and symbolic rings of our love. I know you hate that."

Chris lifted his hips so Joey’s teeth didn’t get sore. "What if I do want to get married?"

"Okay. The mood is definitely killed." Joey slid up and collapsed on the pillow beside Chris’s head. Funny, but Joey didn’t look all that mad, just exasperated and annoyed, which pretty much mirrored normal Joey, except there was no blindingly bright smile. "I’m sorry I turned your life upside down when I fell in love with you, Chris. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I’m not saying it back," Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest, "no way."

Joey didn’t say anything. He turned onto his side and didn’t say a damn word.

"You’re angry," Chris said, a startled note in his voice. It felt a lot like a question.

"Oh, you think?" Joey’s voice was low and rough. "Just go away for a while, okay? You grated on my last nerve. Your mission is complete. Go sleep on the couch, and I’ll talk to you in the morning." Joey punched at his pillow a little then hiked the comforter over his head. Chris tried to put a hand on Joey’s shoulder, but Joey slapped at him. "Consider this our first fight."

"Okay," Chris agreed. He tucked a pillow under his arm then grabbed one of the old, skanky blankets that Joey kept on the chair beside his bed. He’d done the same in Orlando, too. They were there for people who didn’t have the balls to exist in the sub-zero temperatures that Joey kept his A/C at, like Chris. On second thought, Chris left with just the pillow.

~~~

Wearing only his fancy Joey-bought black briefs, Chris walked into the kitchen. Lance and JC were still up, drinking hot toddies and chatting. They stopped talking when Chris opened the fridge, looking for beer with his dumbass pillow still tucked under his arm.

"We had a fight," Chris said, pulling up a chair. He arranged the pillow in the other one.

"You don’t look too happy about it," Lance replied. "I thought that’s what you wanted."

"It’s not nearly as satisfying as I hoped. I didn’t count on the fact that I’d be worried he’s gonna break up with me. I’d break up with me. I’m such a complete ass, and he knew it going in. How could he not? He’s known me for years." Chris cracked open his beer and took a long, refreshing swig. It bubbled in his nostrils, he drank it so fast. "He kicked me out."

"Joey isn’t one to hold a grudge," JC said. "It’ll be fine in the morning."

"Oh, C. You’re missing so much back story here. I don’t think so. I think I fucked up, and I think this is the end." Chris banged his bottle on the table as he spoke, splashing his hands with beer. "If I even entertain for a second that I haven’t fucked things up completely, then I really have fucked things up. You know what I’m saying?"

Lance and JC exchanged a look.

Gently, JC said, "Chris, you’re not thinking rationally here."

"You really aren’t," Lance added.

How to make them understand. Chris laid his head down on the table, right into the puddle of beer, and even though it was wet and smelly, he refused to sit up again. When Lance took the bottle out of his hand, Chris didn’t protest. "It was too easy. We didn’t work for it."

"Didn’t you, though?" JC asked. He rubbed a hand up and down Chris’s arm, ruffling the hair. "Haven’t the last few years been, like, preliminary work? I mean, Joey could have gotten you in bed long before now. Chris, no offense, but you’re pretty slutty like that."

"I hate when you make sense, C. It puts the universe in a precarious situation," Chris said. "I’m totally glad I don’t have a single fucking clue how that’s supposed to make me feel better. Thanks for saving the world from self-destruction. I know I appreciate it, you equally big slut."

JC flicked him hard against the temple. It stung something fierce, but Chris could not muster indignation. From the pit of his belly, he heaved a massive sigh. Life seriously sucked. Joey had been pulling at Chris’s underwear with his teeth, and Chris had gone and picked a fight.

"Joey’s a gut instinct type of guy, right? He knows what makes him happy, and he goes for it," Lance said slowly. JC nodded right away while Chris’s nod followed more hesitantly, but they definitely all agreed that Joey was a sucker for things like that. "Where you see picket fences and the threat of marriage, Joey sees something that brightens his life and, thus, is good."

"He has such awful taste in men," Chris muttered. "I honestly regret I’m so good in bed."

"There’s one big difference, though," Lance continued, as if Chris had never spoken at all. Lance was ignoring him. "Even with Ben, it was never about what Joey wanted. He caters to whoever he’s with and not the other way around, so it would go to reason that the fact Joey kicked you out of bed is a good thing. It means he picked himself over you." Lance smacked a hand down on the table then sat back, looking smug.

"Ooh," JC said, "you’re right. That’s exactly what it means."

Chris slapped his forehead with a wet hand. "That doesn’t solve anything, Einstein!"

"He never kicked Ben out of bed, and you know they fought a lot near the end. We all know that. It was kinda hard to ignore," Lance said as JC nodded beside him. "He never kicked Andre out, even though that prick deserved it, or Alex, or Morris. By all accounts, Joey does not kick his boyfriends out of bed, yet here you are, snivelling in your beer and close to tears."

"The smell of the beer is making my eyes water, is all," Chris said, grumbling.

~~~

Eventually, Lance wandered off to bed, and JC excused himself with no explanation. Chris headed outside to brood. It was hot as hell, so he took off his shirt. The arc of his belly was strangely comforting. Chris petted it as he sat in the grass, stargazing. In time, the patio door slid open, and JC came out. Without waiting to be invited, he settled beside Chris.

"You and Dani never fought before you broke up, did you?" JC asked quietly.

Chris sighed. "It always comes back to her, doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter if I say that has nothing to do with it. We all know I’m lying, even when I’m not." Chris wriggled a little in the grass. He wanted to snuggle up to JC, but he didn’t know how to ask. Instead, he pulled at the blades of grass and made a small pile. "We didn’t. Not once, and we still didn’t make it."

"Joey isn’t like anybody you ever pictured being with. You might be bisexual, but this is your first real relationship with a man, and it’s different. Men are different, and you don’t know how to act or what will happen. You can’t even begin to guess. Even more than that, it’s Joey, and you love him a lot. You don’t want to hurt him, and you don’t want him to hurt you either."

Chris bowed his head. His watery eyes suddenly felt a lot worse.

"All you life, you’ve had to work for happiness. You worked three jobs for money to pad the meagre scholarships Valencia and Rollins offered, so you could stay in Orlando and try to make it singing. Nsync didn’t come easy, even though it happened fast. There were times you wanted to give up, but you worked your ass off. Nothing that has made you happy has ever been easy, except Joey. Your relationship with Joey, it scares the shit out of you because it was effortless. With Dani, you had to change the spin of the earth, and that didn’t happen with Joey. He is entirely happy with what you have to offer him, and you can’t let yourself believe that."

"C," Chris said and leaned against him. JC’s arm came around his shoulders and squeezed. Immediately, Chris felt a little better. Not much, but some. His eyes were itchy.

"Hey, man, you don’t have to say anything. Well, not to me. To Joey, you have to, yes." JC rocked them back and forth. "Maybe you guys will only have a few great months, or maybe you’ll grow old together. Stop worrying about the future, man. You can’t control it. Why try?"

"I want to," Chris muttered. "I really like him a lot. I think I even," Chris clamped his lips down when he felt the l-word pushing at them, "you know, him. I can’t say it, though. If I do, that’s the end. She left when I said it. After months of begging, I finally said it, and it wasn’t enough, and she left, and I’m never saying it again."

"Justin doesn’t leave when you say it to him," JC said, gently.

"Justin’s different. Me and him, it’s different. I don’t love him like that. Sure, I know he’s hot, and we flirt a little, but he’s Justin. He’s just Justin." Chris thumped himself hard on the head. Too hard and he saw some stars around the corners of his vision. He would have done it again, but JC grabbed his wrist. "I hate that I can’t get over it, over me and Dani. I hate that I’m fucking this up for me and Joey. I hate ... I think I hate me a lot. I think I hate me the most."

JC spoke warmly into Chris’s ear. "You think Joey doesn’t know all this?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Chris sniffled and blinked rapidly, trying to rein in his manically swaying emotions. All he could really think about was Joey upstairs in bed, without him, maybe sleeping more peacefully than he had in weeks. "I need this to work so badly, C. I didn’t used to, but ... it feels really good, you know? I want us to work. Like, you have no idea how much."

"I think I know. Probably as much as the rest of us want it to work, but putting this sort of pressure on yourself isn’t going to help. It’s very self-destructive and very self-sabotaging. It’s very you, and I promise you Joey knows that. So stop, okay? Just let it happen, let it jive, and stop fighting so hard. Joey isn’t Dani. Not even close, Chris, and you know that."

JC knocked on Chris’s skull with his knuckles, and it kinda hurt, but Chris let him. JC meant well, and Chris would have done worse to himself if JC hadn’t beat him to the punch.

~~~

Chris waited for Joey to wake up then waited even longer for him to shower and get dressed then even longer than that as Joey got himself some breakfast and settled down with the newspaper. Lance was already awake, watching toons on the tv, and JC was likely still sleeping.

When Joey went to put his dishes in the sink, Chris followed him. Torn between puking all over Joey’s back and doing what he originally intended, Chris took a big breath and wrapped his arms around Joey from behind. Even when Joey jumped, Chris held on. His belly was squishy and small beneath Chris’s hands, though it puffed out with what Chris thought must be surprise. The sharp hiss of startled breath through Joey’s teeth also tipped him off.

"I’m sorry," Chris murmured against Joey’s tee-shirt. "I’m really sorry. Don’t make me sing Against All Odds, because I considered it. I did. You’re totally right. I love Phil Collins. I still think your CD collection sucks, but I love Phil Collins. I love him, Joe, I love him."

Chris knew what he meant, what he should have said, but that was the best he could do, the only thing he could say for now. Joey owned every Phil Collins CD, and Chris really, really loved Phil Collins. Chris needed Joey to understand. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do. In time, he hoped that would change, but they had it. Time. Chris could feel it.

"I’m not mad," Joey said, finally. With damp hands, he circled Chris’s wrists. "Not any more. I was pissed for, like, five minutes, but by then you were gone, and I couldn’t take it back."

"I slept horribly." Chris rubbed his cheeks over Joey’s shoulder blade where it lifted from his back. It was softly padded and not at all pokey. Chris felt the strangest affection for Joey’s shoulder blade. It was dumb, but he couldn’t help it. "Your couch is very uncomfortable, man."

"I know. That’s why I suggested it instead of telling you I had one of those comfortable inflatable air mattresses in the closet, or that both C and Lance had double beds. I feel kinda bad," Joey admitted. He turned in Chris’s arms until they were face to face. When Joey reached for his face with a hand, Chris let him. "You can go nap in my bed, if you want."

Chris hooked a finger into the waistband of Joey’s sweatpants and snapped it against his belly. That same finger snaked down the dark jungle of Joey’s treasure trail. "You wanna come with? I think I at least owe you a blowjob, or um, well." Chris dropped his eyes, feeling like a blushing virgin, all wildly emotional and blushingly innocent. "I have an ass, too."

"I’ve noticed," Joey said, reaching behind Chris to cup it, firm in his palm.

"I’m a little curious," Chris admitted, smiling to himself, "if you wouldn’t mind."

"I can do that," Joey said, dipping his hand under the back of Chris’s shirt and pressing him even closer. Chris slid into the vee of Joey’s legs, hooking his hands around Joey’s waist for support. "Promise me you’re not offering because you think you owe it to me, Chris."

"Joe, c’mon, man. This is almost, like, the cruelest thing a guy can do to you, taking a cock away from your ass," Chris said, grinning, and Joey laughed, warm and bright, in his ear. "Maybe, it’s an act of faith, but you know, I want it, too. At least once. You like it so much."

"I’ll make it good," Joey promised, pressing his blunt fingers down into Chris’s pants. "Maybe we’ll have to invest in a double-ended dildo. Picture it, man. Wouldn’t that be hot?"

Chris shivered, rubbing at Joey’s hips under his sweats. Joey pulled him even closer.

"Good lord, guys," Lance reached around them for the pot of lukewarm coffee, "get a fucking room."

~~~

It wasn’t too bad, Chris decided afterwards, being fucked. It was kind of like coffee. Chris drank it when he needed a boost but otherwise, he could exist without it. Somehow, that analogy made sense in his head. It was a bit too weird to really process. He could still feel Joey in him, even though he wasn’t there. Chris figured he’d have to do it again, if Joey would let him. When all was said and done, Joey was still a big old bottom boy and very happy that way.

"Well," Chris said. They were edged on the side farthest away from the door. There was an unfortunate wet spot neither of them wanted to deal with. Kicking JC out of bed so they could sleep seemed cruel. Lance’s bed would have worked, but they could hear him through the wall, varying between talking excitedly and talking like porn. "You know about Hannah?"

"Yep," Joey said. He trailed a hand up and down Chris’s back, following Chris’s spine with the tips of his fingers. It was curiously sexy, strangely intimate. Chris let him, even though his skin prickled, and he felt obscenely exposed. It was sorta funny that the ravaged ass felt fine.

Chris’s eyes felt weighted down, so he closed them. "He didn’t know about us."

"I was there for that awkward morning after conversation we had, Chris. You might recognise me as the other dick in the bed with you as you explained why it was better for the world if we kept it a secret," Joey said. His voice sounded fond, so Chris offered a sheepish smile. He was man enough to accept his boneheadedness if not man enough to apologise for it.

~~~

A day later, Joey flew his parents while Chris flew his mom out to LA. Chris figured he owed his mom a huge apology, and Joey’s parents really wanted tickets for Fame. For three days, it was a full house of them and their overly loud, insanely nosy parental units. Chris’s mom twisted his ear when she saw caught him and Joey kissing a little in the kitchen, acting dopey.

"If you ever break up with him, Christopher Alan, I will fire you," she said.

"Fire me from what?" Chris asked, trying to shake his earrings loose from her fingers.

"From being my son, is what. One of us deserves to have love come easy, sweetie, and it’s gonna be you if I have anything to say about it," she said, and finally let go of his ear. It was hot against his palm. She turned on Joey next, but she didn’t rip him a new one, like Chris had hoped. She simply hugged him, whispered something in his ear, then shoved him at Chris.

"What’d she tell you?" Chris asked later, when they were getting into bed.

"That you love me," Joey said, "even if you can’t say it."

Chris rolled his eyes, but a helpless sort of smile quirked his lips. He shrugged then slid over so Joey could fit. Chris loved sleeping in the middle of the bed, and he loved to sprawl. With Joey, he had to compromise, but it’d worked so far. The only time Chris didn’t really mind the snuggling business was at night, when he was asleep.

Joey slipped under the covers and lay back.

"I’m not asking you to change," Joey said quietly. "Hell, I don’t want you to change."

Chris pulled the blankets up to his nose, and it was only partially due to the frigid temperature of the room. "That’s good, cuz I can’t. I mean, I could try, but I won’t in the end. I have shit I’m carrying around, Joe. I don’t even understand most of it, and there’s a lot."

"I know, Chris. I know you." Joey turned onto his side, propping himself up with an arm. His eyes were dark and grave Chris hadn’t seem him looking that serious since, like, ever. "Just, will you stop running? This fat ass can’t keep up. If nothing else, we have good sex, right?"

"We have great sex," Chris said.

"And we’re good friends, right?"

"You’re my best mate," Chris said, in an English accent that rivalled Justin’s and, thus, wasn’t especially good, but it made Joey laugh. Chris cut Joey off before he could say anything else, adding, "and we’re fabulous boyfriends, too. Formally known as most beloved dudes."

Joey smiled. "Okay. Then we’re agreed? We give this thing a go. Us."

Chris bobbed his head then raised his right hand in solemn oath. "I give you my word that I’m not just saying this cuz my mom’s ready to chuck me out of the family. I mean, maybe a tiny part is due to that, but mostly," Chris wrapped his arms around Joey and brought him in for a cuddle, "you." Chris squeezed him as hard as he could then didn’t let go, not even when Joey tried to struggle free. Served him right, anyway, after all those times he’d done the same to Chris.

"I really want you to stay," Joey said, right up close in Chris’s ear.

Chris grinned into Joey’s hair. "I really want me to stay, too."

Joey laughed.

~~~

Joey finished with Fame, and they headed back to Florida, leaving Lance and JC in LA. Justin was roaming the country, finally back in North America. Chris was a less nervous about him knowing they shared soil again. Chris booked the tickets, swearing they were flying back to Orlando, but he lied. They even sat by the Orlando gate before Chris admitted the ruse. Well, Joey called it a ruse, and Chris kinda went with the word. They flew to Miami instead, where Chris had to pick up a few things.

"You’re moving in with me," Joey said as he helped carry boxes to Chris’s car.

"Joe, you poor deluded man. I’m not moving in with you. My CDs are moving in with you." Chris finished taping the last of them securely into the box, padded with crumpled newsprint and those weird foam things. "Hopefully, they’ll be able to dilute the sheer tastelessness of your overly gay CD collection. They’re on a mission, you know."

"Uh huh." Joey tossed Chris’s hockey skates over one shoulder and hooked his roller blades over the other. "It still looks to me like you’re moving in with me. Which is fine, I mean. This practically defines ‘stay’ for me, and I appreciate the boost of confidence in our love story."

"Well, that’s good to know, but still, need I remind you, you should be telling this to my CDs. They’re in for quite the culture shock. I mean, one look at Barbara Streisand, and they’re likely to run screaming back to Miami. That’s where the packing tape comes in," Chris added.

"I’ll keep that in mind," Joey said, grinning.

"I’m not moving in with you," Chris said again. "I’m really, seriously not, Joe."

"Okay."

"Really, Joey. I mean it."

"Sure," Joey said, still grinning.

Fin.

Note: While the fisting thing was realistic within the context of the story, it wasn't done in the safest possible way. Blame Ben.