Iness
Copyright October 2, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: PG
Pairing: AJ McLean/J. Brown
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and Five are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashwriters.
Wherein there's a guy you don't know, from a band you don't know, so why bother reading?
Notice: Ah! Kevin's birthday is tomorrow! Dude. Chris Kirkpatrick and I are Libras. Nick Lachey is a Scorpio.
Heh. Now there's a threesome for you. Kevin, Chris, and Nick Lachey.
Oh, oh, a foursome. Kevin, Chris, Nick, and Matthew! Nice...
Sorry.
Ahem.
He'd gotten it for their six-month anniversary. Longest he'd been with anyone. Way longer than he'd been with any other guy.
AJ.
A. J.
Alexander James.
Alexander and Jason.
What did it stand for, now? Alexander and Joey?
He'd been good enough for AJ, once. For a while. Not anymore.
Five was losing what ground it had gained. Their manager had died. They were on the verge of splitting.
AJ was splitting, too.
As clear as it was that Five was nearing its end, it was just as clear that *NSYNC was on the rise. Those pretty boys were sitting pretty. They could mess with their hair and have kids out of wedlock, and still date Britney and star in movies. *NSYNC could do no wrong.
J. hadn't done any wrong, either.
What did AJ think it did to him? His career, his world, were faltering. And AJ called him, at four a.m. where AJ was, half-sotted, with a girl in the background.
He had his own tattoo. On his back, down right above his right hip. The same deal. An exact replica of AJ's tattoo.
AJ had started it. He'd been happy to join in, but AJ had started it. Made the first move. Made a lot of first moves. And then they'd been partners. They'd been in it together.
At some point, they stopped being equal partners. AJ had one foot out the door.
And now? Now, AJ was gone, and the door had swung back and smacked J. in the face. Now, J. was alone, and hurt.
And AJ was starting over again, with someone else.
Joey.
Joey didn't have a thing, not a bloody thing, that J. didn't have.
Except *NSYNC.
He wasn't good enough anymore? Not good enough for AJ McLean? Not good enough for a Backstreet Boy?
What did AJ want? Celebrity?
He clenched his fists, his jaw. All right then. If that was what AJ wanted, that's what he could do. That's what he would be. A celebrity.
A success.
Rich, famous, celebrated.
He'd never been with AJ for that. He hadn't wanted to ride anyone's coattails to fame. Especially not AJ's. They'd shared love, friendship, sex, understanding. He hadn't been with AJ McLean, the dark and thrilling Backstreet Boy. He'd been with AJ, the one who called him instead of going to an after-party, the one who flew out between concerts to see him when Bob died, the one who made love like a barely tamed cat.
AJ hadn't been with him to get anything from him, to use him for anything. He had nothing to give besides his time, his support, and his love.
Those hadn't been enough.
AJ was gone.
AJ was with Joey.
Joey had celebrity.
J. was going to work, sweat, and bleed. Whatever it took. He could surpass the Backstreet Boys. He could kick *NSYNC's ass. He could rise above them both. Rise above them all.
Show AJ exactly what he'd had. Exactly what he'd lost.
J. would keep his tattoo. AJ had left him, but he wouldn't let AJ take anything away from him.
And AJ, J. was sure that AJ would keep his tattoo. AJ. It was AJ's name.
AJ.
A.J.
J. was in there. Half. The second half, maybe the lesser half. But there.
He'd been dropped before, dumped, dismissed, denied. Never by AJ. Never like this.
Even when AJ was out touring, taking the opportunity to screw around on him, he'd still been first in AJ's heart. First in AJ's bed. Girls AJ could pick up along the way, and then lose along the way, without a second thought. J. was the one AJ called, the one AJ talked to, the one AJ gave a shit about.
He'd thought that he was important. He'd thought that he'd mattered. He'd thought that AJ fucking cared.
He'd been wrong.
How could he have been wrong? What had AJ done to him? He'd thought that he could make it work, that they could get it back. AJ wouldn't leave him. Not for real, not for good.
AJ had left him.
AJ was gone.
AJ.
A.J.
A. J.
His voice, soft, low. AJ's name.
AJ's eyelashes, rich and dark. AJ's hands, possessive on J.'s body. AJ's voice, softer, thick with denied emotion. His name.
He was J.
J. was only half.
Half of AJ.
AJ wasn't complete without him.
AJ would find that out, soon
enough.