Date: Tue, 17 Jun 2003 13:17:18 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: rebound - part 44

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

***

"Chris, would you please just," JC began, but then he passed the doorway,
saw us standing in the hallway, and jerked to a stop.

Justin was standing ramrod straight next to me, his fists tightly closed.
His arms were shaking a little, and I could see that his jaw was clenched
as well. I wasn't doing a lot better, feeling my face harden as I realized
that Chris was in the kitchen, badmouthing us once again, the same song on
a different day. JC was holding a bottle of water, the only thing I'd seen
him drink yet that wasn't tea, and when he saw us, his face just fell. He
looked at Justin, reading the anger in his stance and the set of his
shoulders, and his face pinched as he took a half step toward us. Chris's
voice stopped him cold, though.

"Would I please what?" Chris blurted, a chair scraping across the floor. JC
glanced back toward him, but it was too late. Chris looked down the hallway
and saw us, and that annoyingly slappable sneer curved immediately across
his face. "Oh."

"Justin, Chris, I," JC began, but I wasn't sure which Chris, me or
Kirkpatrick, he was talking to.

"Clearly we're interrupting," I began, reaching for Justin's hand. When he
felt my touch, his fingers curled around mine, lacing through them,
gripping me so tightly it almost hurt.  I could feel how upset he was.

"No, we were just talking," JC said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

"About us," Justin snapped through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, and?" Chris demanded, stepping into the hallway with his chin out
like he wanted to get in a fistfight right then. Actually, maybe he did. He
might have sneered at Justin, but when his eyes ticked over and caught
mine, fire burned. The look on his face then was pure hatred, and he
actually bared his teeth at me like he wanted to bite me.

"We should go," I said, tugging at Justin's hand a little.

"Yeah, you should," Chris said. "Go home."

"You fucking," Justin began, stepping forward. I held tightly to his hand,
wanting to pull him back, but also wanting to see him pop Chris in the
mouth, really hard.

"Stop, please," JC said, stepping between them. There was still about five
feet of space between them, so he wasn't in imminent danger of catching a
stray blow.  "Just stop.  Chris, Justin lives here, and Chris V. is our
guest. Not Justin's. Ours."

Chris stepped away from him, shaking his head. The look on his face was
pity, frustration, and anger.

"You're so much better than this, JC," he said, turning away. He stomped
toward the kitchen. "You're so much better than sniffing after your bitch
boy and his toy, and letting him fucking flaunt his piece of ass in front
of you in your own fucking house. In your own house, JC!"

Justin flinched a little, and JC looked back and forth between him and
Chris's back. I wanted to say something to Chris, even though I knew he was
just baiting us.  I wanted to rise to that challenge, to fly down the hall
and tackle him. Maybe I wasn't the athletic type in college, but Matt and
his jock friends had sucked me into enough games of touch football over the
years that I could probably fake it if I had to. Instead, swallowing, I
pulled on Justin's arm a little, catching his attention. I could see his
eyes glistening, even though he was trying to hold it in.

"Come on," I said, leaning toward him. "Come on, we'll go to the music
room, or the living room or upstairs. Just come on, Justin. Don't listen to
this."

"Yeah, don't listen to the truth," Chris tossed back down the hallway.

"You," Justin began, and I jerked his arm hard enough to make him focus on
me for a second.

"Don't, please," I said, softly enough to keep Chris from hearing. I looked
at JC. "Go deal with your friend, please, JC."

JC nodded. I realized that I'd more or less just done exactly the same
thing that Justin had done to JC the other night, letting him know that I
would take care of Justin, but it was also completely different. I didn't
snap at him, and he didn't look hurt when I said it.  Instead he just
nodded, staring at me so hard for a second that I thought his eyes would
bore a hole through me, and then he turned away and started down the
hallway to the kitchen.

"Justin?" I asked. I could see that he was upset, and when he looked at me
his bottom lip was trembling. "Come on. You don't want to listen to this."

Justin's jaw set firmly as he shook his head. He started to pull me down
the hall.

"Yes, I do," he said, dragging me along with him.

We ended up in the living room, where barely any of the three of us spent
any time. The music room was more comfortable, and more homey, for lack of
a better term.  The living room was almost formal, the kind of room that
would look good if MTV Cribs ever stopped by. It wasn't a bad room, by any
means. The furniture was comfortable, black leather couches flanked by
glass topped tables with chromed lamps, the carpeting deep and soft and the
windows looking out on the yard. There were candles on the coffee table and
pictures on the walls, but the room was completely impersonal. The
paintings were abstract, and there wasn't a single piece of anything
related to Justin, JC, or Nsync. If someone came into this room, they
wouldn't have the slightest clue about Justin and JC's relationship. It was
a show room, where they could meet with important people who would sit in
it and not even realize that JC and Justin both lived here in the same
house as roommates, much less as lovers.

Justin motioned me toward one of the couches, and I sat, waiting to see
what he was doing. To my surprise, he walked over to the music panel and
started punching buttons, and JC and Chris's voices burst from the panel.

"Justin!" I hissed, and then clapped my hands over my mouth, terrified that
they would hear me.

"What?" he asked, shooting me a pissy, annoyed look as he held the button
down.  "They're talking about us. And I have it on speaker only."

"I can't believe you just did that," JC said, not quite sharply. I blinked.
It was like he was speaking my thoughts. "You know I don't like to hear you
talk to Justin that way."

"This is wrong, and you know it," I hissed at Justin, getting up to stand
next to him. I wanted to slap his hand away, but couldn't quite bring
myself to do it.

"My mistake!" Chris snapped loudly. "How on earth could I have forgotten
that we never talk about sainted, holy Justin no matter what he does to
you? I can't believe I didn't remember that he walks on water and doesn't
ever do anything wrong, even when he's dragging you through the mud and
then wiping his feet on you when he's done.  You're being a fucking
doormat, JC!"

"Stop it!" JC said, his voice firm.

"You're letting him walk all over you, and I want to know why!" Chris
barked. "Don't fucking walk away from me! Why are you doing this? Why are
you letting him do this to you?"

There was a pause before JC spoke again, and I glared at Justin in silence.
When JC finally did answer, his voice had that tired, frustrated sound,
that defeated note that I'd caught from him a few times. It wasn't quite
the crushed hurt from his bedroom last night, but it was the voice he used
the few times we'd talked about Justin.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," JC said finally. "I have my
reasons."

"I'm going to keep listening," Justin said, his voice flat, as he stared at
me. His eyes were cold, and I remembered the discussion we'd had last night
about me pushing him. Justin wasn't going to move from his point, and I
knew how stubborn he could be.  "If you don't like it, you don't have to
stay."

In the kitchen, we could hear the refrigerator door open and close, and the
sound of the icemaker. Cubes clinked into a glass, and then a can popped,
and still I hadn't moved.  The God's honest truth was that I wanted to
listen just as much as Justin did, and I looked away, guilty, as I walked
back to the couch. As I turned, Justin reached out and touched my shoulder,
but I kept walking away. I didn't want to think about how low we'd sunk.

"Look, JC," Chris began, no longer angry. Apparently he saved that tone for
us. "I've been talking to Lynn."

"Stop it," JC said, his voice actually carrying a little bite. I didn't
think he was capable of that. "This is my life, Chris. Mine, and Justin's,
and Chris's, too. It's not yours, or Lynn's, or Lance's or Joey's or any of
the other people who think they have a say in this.  And I especially don't
want to hear from people like her."

I watched Justin to see if he would react to that, but his face remained
blank. It was one thing for him to call his mother a bitch, but to hear it
from someone else might be a little harsh.

"I'm trying to be your friend," Chris said, not giving up. This speech was
eerily similar to the discussion Joey and I had before I came here with
Justin.

"Be my friend by respecting what I do," JC said dismissively. He sounded so
tired again, so frustrated. It couldn't just be the discussion with
Chris. Something else was eating at him.

"JC, I can't do that if I don't understand," Chris said. "I mean, how can
you do this? How can you share your house with them?"

"It's Justin's house, too," JC said. "I don't have the right to keep him
out of his own house, and I wouldn't hurt him that way."

"What about the way he's hurting you?" Chris asked. Justin blinked, shaking
his head, as if it had never occurred to him that he might be hurting JC.

"That's not important," JC said softly. Justin looked at me, his mouth
open, his face confused. I walked over to him, holding out my arms, and he
rested his head on my shoulder.

"What do you mean it's not important?" Chris demanded, his voice rising
again. "He's using you as a fucking doormat!"

"Stop it," JC said sharply, his voice trembling. Why was he letting Chris
browbeat him?  "Please stop talking about Justin like that. I won't have
it."

"Chris, am I hurting JC?" Justin whispered, his eyes glistening.

"Not on purpose," I whispered, holding him.

"Would you rather I talked about Vanderhall?" Chris asked. You could hear
the sneer even without seeing the top lip curling with distaste. "I mean, I
can see you letting Justin come back, but him? He's nobody, JC. Not only
that, but he's fucking your boyfriend."

"Stop it!" JC repeated. "Just stop, please. You don't know him. You don't
know anything about him."

JC was defending me?

"I know a lot about him," Chris countered. "Probably more than you."

"Yeah, because of your investigator," JC said bitterly. "I can't believe
you and Lynn did that. I can't believe the two of you could be so
underhanded."

"Why do you care?" Chris asked, cutting him off. "He's nothing to you, and
you're letting him run around the house nailing your boyfriend whenever he
wants to."

"Stop! Enough!" JC said, raising his voice. I heard Chris sputter, and JC
barked at him again. "I mean it! You do not, ever, whether I'm around or
not, talk about Justin that way, not ever! And you're wrong about Chris."

"What, he's your friend now?" Chris asked in that same mocking tone.

"Chris and I respect each other," JC said simply. Wow. JC respected me. Mr.
Perfect actually thought highly of me. If I hadn't been hugging Justin I
might have fainted.  "That's more than I can say for you right now."

"But he's with your boyfriend," Chris pleaded.

"No, he's not," JC answered. "Justin broke up with me. End of story. He's
not my boyfriend, and if people like you and Lynn keep sticking your noses
in, he may not even be my friend. Is that what you want? Is it? You want me
to sit around the house alone?  You want me to pull back into my shell and
not call anyone and not do anything and not care?"

"Hey, dude, don't be like that," Chris said. I wondered if JC was crying,
because he sounded like he might be about to. "You'll still have Joey, and
Lance, and Tony, and you know I'll always be here for you."

There was a pause before JC answered, and when he did I was once again
surprised.

"You're not what I need," he said coldly. "Not when you're like this."

"JC," Chris began.

"Please leave, Chris," JC said. "Please go home. I'll talk to you, well, I
don't know when, but I don't want it to be right now. Please go."

"Fine," Chris sighed. "But I have to say again that you're better than
this, and you know it. You deserve."

"I told you, I have my reasons," JC said. The pain in his voice was sharply
cutting, even through the speaker. "Just go."

"JC."

"Go!" JC yelled, and we both jumped at the sound of glass smashing.

"Fine," Chris said, and we heard the sound of his footsteps over the
speaker. "Don't cut yourself cleaning that up."

In the kitchen, JC let out a racking sob, an almost barking noise of pain
and anguish, and my hand flew out to finally shut the panel off. It was too
much, too personal, and Justin's chest hitched as he crushed me to it. I
walked us carefully over to a couch as he trembled against me. Justin
looked up at me finally, and although his eyes were glistening, he wasn't
crying.

"Chris, I'm hurting JC," he said softly, shaking his head. "I mean, you
heard him. His voice. I'm hurting him."

"But not on purpose," I repeated, holding his hands, keeping my voice low
and soothing.  I was getting really good at handling Justin's moods. Justin
looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes, and I felt them narrow. I knew that
look. He was guilty, and didn't want to admit it to me. "Justin?"

"I wanted to," he whispered. No. He'd promised me that wasn't why he was
doing this. I let go of his hands, and he grabbed them. "Not now! Not since
I met you, Chris, I swear.  When it first happened, when he told me that he
slept with him again, I wanted to hurt him back. I wanted to get back at
him, and make him feel like I did."

"But?" I asked, filling in his pause.

"I couldn't do it," Justin answered, looking down again. "I wanted to just
find some guy, and bring him home, and let him, you know, let him do me all
over the house, and I couldn't do it. I can't be with someone, I can't
touch someone like that, if I don't care about them. I couldn't hurt him
like that, and I couldn't use someone else like that, either.  That's not
who I am."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, just a little brush.

"Glad to hear it," I said, squeezing his hands. Justin pulled me over, and
I settled against him on the couch, laying my head on his firm chest as he
pushed back into the cushions. I rested one hand on his other pec, feeling
his heart beat under my palm, and he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Now I'm hurting him anyway," Justin observed sadly. "And it's not the way
I thought. It doesn't feel good at all."

"It's not supposed to," I sighed. "Justin, we knew this would be like this,
and JC knew that having us here would hurt him. But he just, he, well."

"He has his reasons," Justin finished simply.

"Whatever they are," I agreed. I had a pretty good idea, actually. I was
sure, as I had been from the minute I met him, that JC was still in love
with Justin. "And Chris, Jesus."

"He's just nuts," Justin agreed, shaking his head. "I can't believe he
talked to JC like that, and the things he said."

"It's just talk, Justin," I said, looking up at him. My hand rubbed his
chest lightly. "Don't think about it."

"I'll try not to," he whispered, kissing my forehead.

We sat on the couch for a while, somehow forgetting that we had bags
sitting by the stairs and that in the kitchen JC was probably crying and
cleaning something he'd broken.  Justin and I had each other, but JC was
alone, trying to deal with this by himself. The thought that it was his own
fault didn't really do much to comfort me. I tried not to think about it,
the same way I'd told Justin not to think about things, but I felt a lot
better when JC appeared at the doorway, tapping lightly on the frame since
there wasn't an actual door. He'd composed himself, but he still looked
sad, and he wasn't doing a good job of covering it like he usually did.

"Justin, Chris, I'm sorry," he said quietly. Unlike Justin, JC could meet
my glance no matter how upset he was, and I could see the sincerity in his
narrow, blue green eyes. "He called, and asked if he could come hang out,
and I thought that was all he wanted. I thought that it would be ok, and I
didn't know that he would say all that stuff. I wouldn't have had him over
if I had."

"It's ok," I sighed, patting the cushion next to me. JC didn't take it,
sitting on the couch across from us instead, but I could tell that he
appreciated the offer from the slight smile he gave me. No teeth, but it
was an attempt, and then Justin surprised me by making another.

"Why don't you let me and Chris run our bags upstairs and throw them on the
bed," Justin said, standing. "And then we can all go out and grab something
to eat. No cooking, and no ordering in."

JC blinked at him for a second.

"You're not mad?" he asked, confused. That line appeared between his
eyebrows again.  Justin shook his head.

"No," Justin answered, pulling me up off of the couch by the hand. "You
apologized, no hard feelings. Now go get dressed and put some shoes on, and
Chris and I'll change, and we'll grab one of the guards and get the back
room at Rence and have a good time."

Justin bounced out of the room, determined to pretend that nothing was
wrong, the same way he had from the minute we moved in. This time, though,
it seemed like a good idea that we play along, and JC and I looked at each
other and shrugged.

"Rence?" I asked.

"French food, very expensive," JC said, looking at his own jeans, t-shirt,
and bare feet while I looked at my equally casual outfit. "Guess we'd
better go get changed."

When I got to the bedroom Justin had already brought most of the bags up
and stripped out of his shirt, standing in front of the closet with his
back to me and his pants undone as I dropped the last of the shopping on
the bed. I walked up behind him, running one hand up his spine as I
caressed his ass with the other, sliding it through the loose waist of his
cargo pants and under his briefs, squeezing his cheek gently. He sighed,
leaning back into me, his head rolling back on his neck as I kissed along
the side to his ear.  I began to nibble at the lobe as he sighed, his hands
gripping two hanging shirts in his closet loosely.

"Chris," he sighed.

"I'm proud of you, baby," I whispered, flicking my tongue over the curve of
his ear.  "Let's get dressed for dinner, ok? Then maybe when we get back,
we can treat each other to a nice dessert."

"No maybe," Justin said, letting out a little sigh as I let go of him. He
turned, grabbing me and fighting his tongue into my mouth. He crushed my
body against his, my hands having nowhere to go except to press against his
firm chest and all that soft hot skin, and his lips sealed over mine as his
hands pulled greedily at my back. When he let me go, I was gasping for air,
and my mouth was wet. I was sure my lips were bruised, and Justin grinned
wickedly at me. "Later is a definite, not a maybe."

Dinner turned out to be a really good time. Justin's dogged insistence on
acting like nothing was wrong, combined with his bubbly enthusiasm, was
kind of contagious, and I found myself completely without tension by the
time we reached the restaurant. JC, for his part, seemed the same, and was
actually smiling as we sat at the table in the back room, which Justin had
indeed called ahead and booked for us. JC, not surprising in the least
since everything else he did was perfect, ordered his dinner and the wine
for us in flawless French, snickering as Justin and I struggled to do the
same. I was an easy quitter, pointing at the menu to show what I wanted,
while Justin gave it his best attempt, ending up ordering in a horribly
butchered accent that reminded me of that cartoon skunk that hung out with
Bugs Bunny. The waiter did his best not to appear offended, and I figured
that with the restaurant being in Florida they must hear a lot of awful
accents from tourists.

"What are you guys doing tomorrow?" JC asked over dessert. We were all
feeling pretty mellow, having gone through an entire bottle of wine and
opened a second.  Justin didn't really care for it, but JC was actually
very knowledgeable on wine, explaining to me that he was kind of a
connoisseur, although he was quick to add that he was far from an expert.

"I have an interview and shoot," Justin answered, shrugging. "I forget
which magazine it's for, but Johnny said that Chris can come, too."

"Apparently I'll blend in with the rest of the staff and minders," I said,
shrugging. "I'd bring a book, but I have a feeling that looking
disinterested would probably raise questions."

"Try to have fun, regardless," JC said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you can
learn about Justin's favorite color, or his favorite food, or how many
shoes he claims to have."

"Or the way JC doesn't wear the same pair of underwear on tour," Justin
snickered.

"Rumor and speculation," JC said, shaking his head.

"When we get back tomorrow you want to work on another mix?" Justin asked,
spooning up a little more of his sorbet.

"Sure," JC answered, shrugging. He turned to me. "While we're on the
subject of rumor, Chris, did you know that I've heard that Justin throws
away all of his underwear?"

"He what?" I asked, cracking up.

"Throws them away, so female fans can find them if they root through his
trash," JC laughed along with me. Justin was blushing bright red as JC and
I stared at him. "I mean, I read that somewhere."

"Completely untrue," Justin said finally. "Why the hell would I want some
girl finding my draws?"

"Maybe he's throwing them away for the male fans," I suggested, shrugging.

"It's possible," JC agreed, raising his glass. I tinked mine against it as
if we were toasting Justin's briefs, and then we both drank. "Magazines and
the internet never, ever lie."

"I am not throwing my briefs away for anyone!" Justin almost yelled, which
just made JC and I laugh harder. "You've seen them in the laundry!"

"Hey, you started it," JC said, shaking his head. He smiled at me. "Any
underwear stories to share, Chris?"

"Who says I wear any?" I asked, completely serious. JC blinked at me for a
second, his mouth hanging open, and then Justin and I both lost it and
broke into laughter. JC blinked for a minute, and then laughed along with
us. "Oh, God, we had you."

"Yeah, you did," JC agreed, and the three of us grinned at each other as if
nothing else was wrong.

We managed to finish that second bottle of wine before leaving, and while
we were on our best behavior on our way through the restaurant, we were
giggling again by the time we got to the car. Justin kept trying to hold my
hand while we waited for the valet, and I kept slapping it away, which only
made him snicker worse. Nobody seemed to be around, but I figured better
safe than sorry, even with my alcohol impaired judgment. The bodyguard
opted to drive, which gave us all the giggles again, even if it wasn't
funny.

"No drunk driving for Nsync!" JC chortled.

"Yeah, we're not the Backstreet Boys," Justin agreed.

Justin and I climbed into the back, crowding against each other on the
seat, as JC took shotgun by the bodyguard. The whole way home he held my
hand, and kept trying to get his face in against my neck while I swatted
him away and hissed at him to stop. He saw it as funny, and kept giggling,
but I didn't want to make out with him, not in the same car as JC. Even if
JC didn't notice, or was deliberately not noticing by not turning around
and not talking to us, he still didn't need to hear it. It was that problem
we'd had yesterday, with what JC knew versus what we threw in his face.

"Justin, knock it off," I hissed, pulling his hand away from my shirt
buttons. "Not here."

"Tiny signed a release," he whispered, kissing across my cheek toward my
mouth. I held his jaw firmly between my hands.

"Not now," I said.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes.

JC was a little more subdued as we entered the house, walking quietly and
quickly with his hands in his pockets. We followed him up the stairs, still
holding hands, and he paused by his door.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner," he said softly, looking at our linked
hands. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Good night."

He closed his door before we could even answer, and I felt sad again as I
followed Justin to our room. I know that Justin and I had explained to him
that we weren't going to limit ourselves in his presence, and that we were
going to be ourselves and show how we felt about each other, but it still
didn't feel right. I actually felt bad for touching Justin in front of him
when I remembered the way he'd talked to Chris earlier. Whatever his
reasons were, I hoped they were important enough to him to make up for the
pain he had to be feeling.

Justin was clearly not feeling any of the guilt I was, though. I figured he
had already put his momentary guilt from earlier aside, because nothing
seemed to be bothering him, and as I walked into the bedroom he closed the
door behind us and tackled me to the bed, tickling me. I giggled and
twisted beneath him, but he kept it up, rolling me over so that he was
laying on top of me, his fingers digging at my sides as I tried to push him
off. He stopped, leaning down above me, holding himself up with his arms,
and stared into my eyes as I tried to catch my breath.

"I believe I was promised a special dessert," he whispered, collapsing on
top of me as he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

***

To be continued.