Alla
Copyright May 25, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: PG
Pairing: probably AJ McLean/Kevin Richardson
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys 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. Also for Kyla and Steph.
Wherein Nick's falling, Howie's sweeping, and Kevin's enjoying AJ's ride.
There were five Backstreet Boys. They all carried their load. Kevin knew his.
Knew how to carry it.
Accepted his role as he accepted his voice part: it was natural, God-given, and unchanging.
Sometimes he wanted to play a different part.
Wanted to be the one who could charm with a wink and a smile. Kevin's smile didn't come off like Howie's did. He ended up looking a little foolish. He hated looking foolish. And when he winked, Nick gave him the "Kevin's off his rocker" look.
Wanted to be the one who could tease Nick into laughter without even trying. He always ended up fighting with Nick. Pulling on his adult role, making Nick the troublesome child. Nick was an adult now, and if Nick wanted to act like an idiot, well, it wouldn't be news to their fans. He wanted to have fun, too, sometimes.
Wanted to make someone's eyes light up. The way Brian's lit around Nick. Brian would be warm, happy, warm, happy, and then, out of nowhere, spark. Light. Shining. He wanted to have that effect on someone. He wanted someone to have that effect on him.
Wanted to be slinky and dark and seductive. Threatening and promising, all at once. Wanted an edge. He had no edges. Except the edge in his tone, the sharpness, when he reprimanded. Reprimanded. They weren't children. They were adults. He was tired of being their self-appointed baby-sitter.
Tired.
Tired of Nick's acting out, of Howie's lame sense of humor, of Brian's impending canonization. He loved them. He loved everything about them. But after all of this time, they were starting to wear on him.
It wasn't them. It was him. He was the one. He wasn't tired of them, he was tired of himself.
Tired of AJ.
Tired of AJ not being AJ anymore.
Tired of AJ being Lance's AJ.
Lance grounded AJ. Tamed AJ. Brought out what was selfless and fiercely loving in AJ. AJ handed over everything to Lance, fell in love and gave it all.
AJ wasn't AJ anymore. He was Lance's boyfriend. Lance's lover. Lance's bitch.
That was not the AJ Kevin knew.
Not the AJ Kevin loved.
AJ was wild and intense, sexual and untamed. AJ owned the stage. AJ owned the room. Every time. His dark gaze. His rough, post-sex voice. His every gesture. AJ McLean was nobody's bitch.
Nobody's.
AJ gave up his pride for Lance.
Gave up himself for Lance.
Kevin liked Lance. Lance had one hell of a voice. And Kevin respected anyone who stayed sane and self-possessed when surrounded by utter chaos in the form of four lunatic singers. Lance had to be nothing short of amazing if he could anchor AJ.
AJ shouldn't be anchored.
Not by anyone.
Except AJ.
This was AJ's world. They were just along for the ride.
What a ride.
AJ loved Lance. He was shedding his self, his pride, his sleek animal nature, for that love. Now AJ was...deflated. All attitude. Nothing to show for it, but show.
Maybe AJ had grown up. Matured. Maybe that was all, and it was for the best, and AJ belonged with Lance forever, because Lance was the only one strong enough to tame the panther.
Kevin didn't want to tame AJ.
He wanted to see AJ wild and free. Set AJ wild and free. If he could. If he had the chance.
One chance.
Just one chance.
To prove.
That he loved AJ. The real AJ. Saw AJ. The real AJ. Inside.
AJ would claw his way out of that cage one day.
Kevin was willing to get
scratched. Bitten. Maimed. To see that happen.
To be there. To help set AJ free.