Copyright April 2, 2002-May 19, 2003 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Thus far we've had JC/Justin, Nick/Drew/Brian, Nick/Jeff, Nick/Drew/Brian/Nick/Jeff, AJ/Lance, AJ/Howie, AJ/Kevin, Chris/Howie, and partridge/pear tree.

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and 98 Degrees 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 Drew won't go behind Brian's back, AJ can screw anybody he wants, and could JC be mellowing?

Notice: First, read "I Need You Tonight," "Boy Lead the Way to Ecstasy," "Not Easy," "No One," "Rest in Peace," "Destiny," and "Together." I know it sounds like a lot, but it'll only take you an hour or two. 

            "He was angry," JC said.

            "He was angry?" Lance asked.  "Do you think that's appropriate?"

            "I hurt him," JC said.  "Justin-"

            "Justin heard you say the exact same things we all heard you say," Lance said.  "He heard your fear, your pain, your doubts, all of your confusion and all of your self-hatred.  And he chose to respond to that by attacking you physically."

            "He was hurt," JC said, pulling away from Lance.  "Justin feels my pain, and it hurts him.  He gets confused."

            "He gets confused," Lance repeated.  "Justin is a grown man in a mature relationship.  He's one of the most naturally intelligent people I know."

            "I hurt him.  He wants to hurt me back, to stop me from hurting him."

            "Is that how you want your marriage to function?" Lance asked.

            "No, but-"

            "Is that how you treat him?"

            "Of course not, I-"

            "Is that how you want to be treated?  Do you want to bear your soul and be greeted with violence and attacks?"

            "I-"

            "Do you really think that the full-grown man you've seen striding around this bus is a confused, hurt child?"

            "I never said-"

            "Justin has the maturity and intelligence to handle himself in almost any situation thrown at him.  Under fire, he's very self-possessed.  His mother did a great job.  Yet he seems to spend a lot of time breaking down, shouting and crying and accusing."

            "He-"

            "When he's not doing that, he's demanding sex. Demanding it.Expecting it.  You have to drop everything at any second based on the gleam in his eye."

            "That's my choice," JC said.  "I-"

            "Justin rules you, he demands and he pushes, and any time you don't measure up to his exact specifications, you're punished for it.  Tell me I'm wrong.  Tell me that's not how he treats you."

            "He doesn't," JC said.  "Maybe, before, it could have been like that, but things are different now.  He's changed, we've changed-"

            "Different?" Lance asked.  "That display he put on today seems exactly like his childish, self-centered behavior of a year ago."

            "It's because I hurt him," JC said.  "I upset him, and-"

            "You upset him, and that gives him the right to act out?  Justin's upset, so anything goes?  He can swear at you, he can yell at you, he can hit you, kick you, bruise you, spill your blood, and it's justified, because Justin's upset?"

            "I didn't-"

            "I've never seen you treat him like that."

            "I don't-"

            "You're special, JC.  You're a brilliant, talented, gracious man.  There's genius in you.  You're absolutely gorgeous."  Lance looked him in the eyes.  "Justin does not treat you right.  He doesn't demonstrate that he truly appreciates you.  He takes you for granted, and as much love as you give, that's a lot for him to take for granted.  You've taught him to assume that as his right, and then when he thinks your love isn't forthcoming the way it should be, he gets mad because you're denying him the right to be the treasured demigod he's learned to be.  You should have better, JC.  You have to be with someone who does appreciate you, someone who does treat you well, someone who does love you."

            There was vulnerability in JC's eyes that he couldn't cover.  "Justin loves me."

            Lance's tone was uncompromising.  "He doesn't act like it." 

            It felt worse than fighting with Brian, and he wasn't sure why.Maybe because he was used to fighting with Brian.  He wasn't used to fighting with Drew, and he didn't know how this was going to go.  With Brian, they fought, they bitched, sometimes they yelled, but they were still Nick and Brian, Brian and Nick, Frick and Frack forever.  He'd act stupid until Brian laughed, or Brian would apologize, or they'd drop it because it wasn't worth it, it couldn't be worth it, nothing was worth it if it put distance between them.  Make-up sex with Brian was great, and different every time.  It depended on how mad Brian had been, how truly Brian had forgiven and forgotten, and how guilty Brian felt for fighting with him.  When Brian felt extra guilty, Nick got the slow, sensuous, deluxe package.  When Brian still felt prickles of anger, Brian fucked him kind of hard, not bad-hard, just intense-hard.  But, according to Brian, Nick looked so good when he came, Brian couldn't stay mad.

            When Nick got mad, and he was past the confrontational phase, he went into the sulky phase.  He knew it.  He'd pull away, and push away, and turn away.  Brian had several time-honored ways to get him out of that mood, and several time-honored ways of leaving him in that mood until he felt like rejoining the adult world.  Nick hadn't spent nearly enough time angry at Drew without Brian's intervention, and he didn't know what Drew was going to do.  He probably could count on Drew to make the first move, because Drew was more mature than he was.

            He didn't want Drew to make the first move, because he wanted to do that himself.  He wanted to be the stand-up guy for once, the one to be the bigger man and put himself out there.  He could be the adult.

            On the other hand, he didn't want to.  He wasn't ready.  He was still mad. Angry.Pissed.Really pissed.  Drew had been wrong, damned wrong, and Nick still wanted to curse him out over it, which meant it wasn't forgiveness time yet.

            They hadn't dealt with each other since he'd walked off.  They'd barely seen each other.  Drew was behind that door over there, but Nick wasn't going to go in there.  He didn't want to be in the way of Drew's big important tour work.  He didn't want to be a distraction or a liability or whatever Drew had been trying to accuse him of being.  The little-

            The door opened, and Jeff leaned out into the hallway.  "Psst. Your phone's ringing."

            Nick came and got it from him.  "Thanks.  Hello?"  Jeff patted his shoulder and closed the door again.

            "Nick, brother of my heart, how are you?"

            "I'm good."  AJ was too cheerful; something was up.

            "You don't sound good," AJ said.

            "I'm great," he lied.

            "That's good to hear, Pinocchio.  Let me talk to Drew."

            "Why?"

            "I want his advice."

            "On what?  How to act like a..."  Nick tried to find a word that suited his anger but wouldn't make Brian give him a look.  Not that Brian was there, but Brian wouldn't want him calling Drew names.

            "Let me talk to Drew," AJ said again.

            "Why?  You need to get your six-pack back in shape?"

            "My abs are a thing of beauty.  This body was sculpted by God for ultimate aesthetic pleasure.  I'm so hot, the air around me crackles with sexual tension."

            That was true.  "Hold on."  Nick knocked on the door.

            Jeff opened the door.  "Hey."

            "Give this to Drew."  Nick handed it over and walked away.  As soon as he and Drew weren't fighting anymore, he was going to find out what AJ wanted. 

            Occasionally, Justin would be within JC's line of sight.  When that happened, JC's entire body went on full alert.  He'd stare, like he was trying to drink Justin in through his eyes.  He'd tense, like he was ready to pounce.  His hands would start a restless, grabby motion, like he was trying to feel something that wasn't there.  He'd start moving forward, not necessarily consciously, edging towards Justin.  At that point Justin, noticing him, would start warning him to back off, and then start throwing things.  They'd have to put a hand on JC's arm and draw him back away from danger.

            They did have a show to do. Soundcheck was interesting, as was waiting backstage, because Justin wouldn't let JC anywhere near him, but JC wanted nothing more than to be close to Justin.  Joey ended up draping JC over one shoulder for most of soundcheck, just to keep him out of trouble.

            Backstage, Lance was gazing at JC, touching JC in appropriate, if overly friendly, ways, talking in a low murmur about God knew what.  JC was staring across the room at Justin like a broken-hearted teenager.  Justin was laughing and talking with Brian like he was on top of the world.

            It was always interesting when Justin pulled rank and put JC in his place. Made JC work for it.  Justin was the one thing in the world that JC wanted most, and Justin knew it.  Sometimes, Justin made JC prove himself worthy.  This looked like it was shaping up to be one of those times.

            Justin rubbed his knee.  "Can you do me a favor?"

            "Yes," Brian said.

            "Can you keep JC in your room tonight?  I don't want him in my room, and if I don't make arrangements ahead of time, who knows where he'd end up?"  Justin glanced towards JC and Lance.  "I'd appreciate you keeping an eye on him for me."

            "Are you sure you don't want him with you?" Brian asked.

            "I'm sure," Justin said darkly.  "I don't want him in my bed.  I don't want him near me."

            "All right," Brian said.

            "Just give him a blanket on the floor," Justin said.  "He'll be fine." 

            "It is new," Jeff admitted.  He watched Drew for a minute.  "I wonder..."

            "You wonder what?" Nick asked.  Jeff was standing very close to him, right by his side, so he put his arm around Jeff's waist.

            Jeff took a step closer, unconsciously accommodating.  "I wonder who's going to make the first move towards reconciliation."

            Nick tensed his hand against Jeff's side, judging the hardness of unyielding muscle.  "Drew."

            "You think so?" Jeff asked, pondering.

            Nick ran his fingertips down Jeff's perfect crease.  He stroked Jeff's pelvic bone through Jeff's shirt, nudging denim out of the way.  "Drew's the mature one."

            "I think it depends on which of them can't stand the separation more," Jeff said.  "That's a toss-up."

            "Nick's more likely to let his pride get in the way," Nick said.  He rubbed his hand over Jeff's six-pack, wondering if slipping up under Jeff's shirt would-

            "Would you please stop feeling me up?" Jeff asked.

            "Oh.  Sorry," Nick said, blushing, dropping his hand.

            "Pervert," Jeff said with a smile. 

            He felt a hand on his shoulder, a warm presence at his side.  Lance's voice was sex in his ear. "JC."

            JC felt a slow rush as he listened to the crowd scream for them.

            Lance's hand slipped down his back. "JC."  There were promises in Lance's voice, promises Lance had the confidence to deliver.

            JC couldn't smell the dust and sweat of his surroundings, couldn't smell the powder and musk of Justin, could only smell the sweet and spice of Lance.  The crowd roared.

            "Everybody ready?" Chris asked. "JC?"

            It was time to run, to take their places, to hit the stage.  JC couldn't find his focus.  He couldn't find his energy.  All he had was a pained confusion, and no Justin, and Lance's voice inviting his dick down Lance's throat.

            "Ready, rock star?" Justin asked, smacking his ass, around the corner with Joey just as JC opened his eyes to look.

            Rock star.

            JC lifted his chin and smiled, feeling the arrogance burn behind his eyes, feeling the high begin to mount. Rock star.  Ready. 

            Tattoos were fun.  He'd drawn AJ's more times than he could remember.  Once he'd decided to try to do physical form, focusing on body parts, he'd found easy subjects in the fellas.  All of them could sit still better than he could, so all he had to do was find someone who looked pretty stationary, and pick a point of focus.  After a while, he'd started asking them to shift position a little so he could get a better angle, and most of the time, they'd humor him.

            Brian was his favorite, but Howie was the most patient.  AJ was the most likely and willing to sit around showing skin, which was helpful, and AJ didn't mind actually posing.  Kevin had the most ideal form, as far as Nick could tell, but Nick had figured out early on that the best way to get to sketch Kevin was to pretend he was drawing something else.  He'd sit down casually with his pad angled away from Kevin so Kevin couldn't see, and then he'd spend a few minutes acting like he was in the middle of refining some previous sketch.  Kevin would ignore what he was doing, and from then on it was only a matter of not being caught staring.

            Drew was still sort of shy about being sketched, but Drew sucked, and Nick had no plans to draw him ever again.

            He did have one drawing, though, one seriously kick-ass drawing, of Drew.  Drew had fallen asleep face-down and shirtless, and since Nick had been bored but unwilling to disturb Drew's much-needed rest, he'd sketched Drew's back.  It had been fucking hard, because Drew had all of those ten millions rivules of muscle, and twice Drew had shifted and thrown off stuff.  Still, he'd gotten damned good detail.  Towards the end, he'd wondered if he could take off Drew's pants and sketch Drew's ass, but he'd settled for climbing on top of Drew and licking all of those muscles he'd just drawn.  Okay, so he'd wakened Drew at that point, which was inconsiderate of Drew's slumber, but he'd gotten to give Drew a good blowjob, so he didn't regret it.

            It was unfortunate that Drew sucked.  It was majorly shitty that he had to hate Drew right now.  Drew shouldn't have acted like a jackass.  The little...

            Jeff stepped on Nick's toes.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

            Nick looked up.  "Talk about what?" he asked, trying to look unruffled, not pissed off.

            Jeff sat beside him, all casual.

            So, were they going to talk?

            "He hates himself," Jeff said, pulling one knee up.

            Good.  Drew hated Drew, Nick hated Drew, everyone was happy.

            "There's a lot of self-doubt in him right now that I haven't seen for a while."

            Good.  Drew should doubt himself.  He'd done the wrong thing and acted like a jackass and-

            "Are you leaving us?"

            Nick whipped his head around and looked at Jeff.  Jeff's tone was even, Jeff's gaze was even, there was calm in the blue.  But inside the words, Nick had heard things, things like sorrow.

            "We overheard most of the louder portions of the yelling," Jeff said.

            "Yeah," Nick said. "Thursday.  I'm going back home to help out JC and Justin."

            "We'll miss you," Jeff said.  He sounded the same, but his eyes grew a fraction more serious.

            "Yeah," Nick said.  He looked away.  Drew hated him and Jeff was going to miss him and he didn't know when or how or where he'd ever see Brian again.  It was illogical, but he was beginning to feel like by taking this one step away from Brian, he'd forfeited all rights to be with Brian.  Instead of staying here with Drew, Brian's husband, he was going off with Justin, so he'd have no Brian and no Drew, and somehow, that was like leaving Brian all over again.  He was going farther and farther away from home, emotionally, which each move.  Drew had said he'd get to see Brian on his way to baby-sitting Justin, but that couldn't be promised, only wished for.

            "Nick," Jeff said, knowing and understanding.  He turned and Jeff opened and he hugged Jeff, holding on, closing his eyes.  He was dying inside without Brian, he was scared by this distance from Drew, he didn't even have one of the fellas around - - for his whole life, everywhere he went, he'd either had his family or Brian, Brian or his family.  And for a majority of that time, he'd also had the fellas right at his side. Right at his side.  He'd known that coming here to see Drew would be okay, because it wasn't his family and it wasn't the fellas and it wasn't Brian, but it was Drew, and that made it okay.  Drew made everything okay. But it wasn't okay, and he wasn't sure why, and if he didn't know why he couldn't fix it.

            He didn't cry.  He just squeezed himself close to Jeff and tried not to choke on the fear, the uncertainty, the questions that wouldn't go.

            Jeff had always been a safe place.  Like Kevin, only without the tendency to bitch him out.  98 Nick wasn't safe, not at all, not with Jeff's reassuring permanence.  He knew what to expect from Jeff.  He knew he could count on Jeff.  He knew that Jeff would listen, and understand, and guide him in the right direction even when all paths, to him, were frightening or indiscernible.

            Jeff lightly rubbed his back.  "It's okay."

            Nick wondered how people knew that.  Jeff meant it, but how did Jeff know?

            "It'll be okay," Jeff promised.

            Nick realized that not only was he in a personal embrace with Jeff, but Jeff was naked to the waist.  The skin of Jeff's shoulder against his cheek was smooth, and when he slid his hands across Jeff's back, he could feel hints of the dormant power in Jeff's body.

            Jeff put a hand to the back of Nick's neck.  "One more minute," he said softly.

            So that was how it was.  If he were upset and on the verge of tears, he could stay as long as he wanted.  But if he were feeling better, he had a time limit.  That seemed fair.  98 Nick might not appreciate him staying hugged up with Jeff for too long, no matter how innocent it might be.  His fingertips ran across the reminder of a well-healed exit wound, and the second he began to tense, Jeff murmured a quiet reassurance.

            It was okay.  AJ said that the scars meant that these guys had things, people and beliefs, that they thought were worth dying for. Their loves, their music, and each other.  Those things were also worth living for, and worth standing up for, which was why they were still out there every night.

            Howie said it was just like the five of them.  They were putting themselves into the exact same position 98 Degrees had been in, consciously.  They had things worth fighting for, worth dying for, too.

            Nick had asked, "So we're all willing to die for each other?"

            They'd looked at each other.  It hadn't been said like that, put out there in those bald terms, before.  It hadn't hit them like that, smack in the face with that question.

            "Absolutely," Howie had said.

            "Absolutely," Brian had agreed.

            "You asked the question, what about you?" AJ had asked Nick.

            "I am, yeah," Nick had said.

            "Then I guess I am, too," AJ had said, lounging on Howie's shoulder.

            They'd all looked at Kevin.  He'd looked them over, one by one, slowly. Brian, his family.Nick, his most richly spoiled child.Howie, his last partner in sanity in their crazy life.AJ, who brought color into every corner of his steadfast existence.  He'd slung his arm around Nick and said, "Count me in."

            Count me in.

            Nick wanted to stay where he was, in the security of Jeff's protection, remembering how much love and faith there was, remembering how good it could be when they were all there for each other, safe from what hurt.

            But his minute was up, and Jeff was slipping from his embrace.  Nick sat up, and looked up, and saw the other Nick standing over them, arms crossed, looking displeased.

            Jeff looked up, too, and said, "Don't even start, Lachey."

            Nick wondered if Nick automatically had to take Drew's side in the fight and be mad at him, out of family loyalty.  What about Nick loyalty? Traitor.

            "What are you looking mad at me about?" Nick asked.

            "You picked the Lachey side and not the Nick side," Nick said.  "You're supposed to be loyal to me."

            "I am on your side," Nick said.  "Drew was way out of line.  I'm just not telling him that."

            "You can't work both sides," Nick said.

            "I work anything I want to," Nick said, reaching down a hand and pulling Jeff up beside him. "Stay Nick."

            Nick grinned. "Stay Nick."  He watched them go.  He should probably go up to the sound booth.  Or he could stay where he was.  Or he could go back to Florida and leave Drew here without saying good-bye, since out-of-line bastards didn't need polite good-byes.

            Nick and Jeff, out the door.  Justin J., out the door.  Drew, standing by the door, poised to go, looking at him.

            Nick lifted his chin and one eyebrow, kicking Drew in the groin with his in-your-face Nick Carter rock star impression.  Drew could get mad, act like an asshole, and try to hurt him, but nothing a 98 nobody did could ever affect Nick fucking Carter.

            Drew faltered.

            Nick slowly and pointedly gave him the finger.

            Drew yanked the door open, then slammed it shut and started walking in Nick's direction.

            Oh, shit.  Too far, too far, he'd gone too far, and he didn't know if Drew was going to get low and gutter with it like AJ or high and righteous with it like Brian or polite and deep-cutting with it like Howie or royal and deadly with it like Kevin, but he didn't really want to know.  He scrambled to his feet.  Height advantage, he could use the height advantage.  Oh!  Drew had short legs, he could outrun Drew if he could just-

           Drew slammed him back against the wall and held him there.

            Nick looked down at Drew. Drew's eyes were closed.  No hazel, just smooth eyelids and soft lashes. Um...  Nick tested Drew's grip, twisting his arm slightly. Drew's fingers tightened, keeping him in place.  Drew was one strong little bastard.  Nick stayed where he was, and looked at Drew.

            Drew lowered his face.  Nick looked at the top of Drew's head.  Nice, but he already knew what color Drew's hair was.  Drew needed a haircut, but Nick had already known that, too.

            Drew's grip started to relax.  Now he was just sort of holding onto Nick's arms.  Nick had the chance to escape, but this was getting sort of...compelling.  He stayed.

            He was trying to catch the drift of Drew's emotions, but since all he was getting was silence and the top of Drew's head, he couldn't really read much from that.

            If they stayed much longer, Drew was going to be late getting dressed.

            He'd hated Drew all day, but he'd been avoiding Drew all day.  Now that Drew was near, close, within touching distance, he felt no hatred.  No anger. Only pain, and guilt, and confusion.  And fear.  Nick always felt fear; it was his longtime companion.  He'd thought he'd been getting rid of it, shedding it, but now it was back, and as much as it hurt to have it return to him, it was familiar.  The fear he understood.  The fear understood him.

            Drew's head came up.  His eyes were wet.  His lower lip trembled ever so slightly.  "Hurt me."

            What?

            The torture was visible in Drew's eyes.  His brows contracted from inner pain.  "Hurt me."

            Nick's ears heard the words.  "Hurt me." Drew's mouth said it. Drew's body said it.  But Nick's heart was hearing something from deep inside Drew's eyes that was begging, pleading, "Make love to me."  Drew needed to be raised up.  Drew needed to be forgiven.

            Drew turned his head aside, away.  His lashes lowered again.  One hand dropped from Nick; the other remained.  His voice was low when he said it.  "I'm."  He didn't finish.  His other hand dropped.

            Nick wanted to reach for him.

            Drew turned as though it were inevitable, as though a part of him had known it would be this way all along, and walked away. 

            Joey pulled him closer, and he shuffled his feet to adjust his balance, and his hard-on gave a hearty throb of approval at getting personal with Lance's ass.  For one quick second, Lance's hand reached back for his thigh, and then it was gone.  That contact, that press of his flesh, was sending signals straight to JC's dick.

            JC's dick could say whatever it wanted.  It was charged up from the show, and it was missing Justin, and it was being offered a friendly haven. Tough shit.  JC didn't entertain the idea of giving himself to anyone who wasn't Justin.  No other young semi-blond members of *NSYNC needed to apply for a position in JC's bed.  Justin was all JC would ever need. 

            Pained as he was by Drew's inner torture, Nick had to admit that some small part of him was rubbing its hands with glee.  The ball was so fucking entirely in his court, he might as well take it home for good.

            How could he have forgotten that Lacheys had such a strong penchant for self-flagellation?

            Poor Drew.  He honestly, truly did not like to see his angel hurt.  He'd fix Drew and make it all better.

            Kiss it all better.

            In some rich, delicious, semi-twisted way that rubbed all across Nick's self-esteem, he couldn't forget the "make love to me" in Drew's eyes.  Oh, god, it was wrong to derive pleasure from Drew's pain, but that had felt so fucking good...

            No, no, that was wrong.  Wrong.  That was wrong.  Drew was hurt.  When Drew was hurt, it hurt Nick.  He was going to fix Drew and make Drew feel better and give Drew the forgiveness that Drew's Lachey Guilt Factor needed.

            The "hurt me" thing, that was bad.  That was even kind of scary.  He never would have expected that from Drew.  This was the sort of thing he might need Brian to help him with. Drew's self-inflicted guilt and angst he was pretty much used to, but seeking punishment? Twisted.

            Okay, kind of sexy, but still twisted. 

            Lance's hand drifted down over his ass.

            Chris had a sudden, violent coughing fit.  He grabbed Lance's shoulder for support, and when he was through, Lance was on Chris's other side, separated from JC.

            When they got off of the elevator, JC was relieved and desperate.  All he wanted was to be near Justin, with Justin.  Even if Justin went out tonight, he had a little time while Justin got ready, and they'd be alone together, and he'd have a chance to-

            "JC."  Brian's hand was on his elbow.  "Can I talk to you?"

            "JC," Lance said.

            He heard them, registered their presences, but all of his attention was on Justin.  He tried to shake off what held him back, to follow-

            Justin's back.  The door closed.  He heard the lock.

            Justin had locked him out.

            "JC," Brian said again, gentle.

            "JC," Lance said again, tempting.

            Justin had locked him out.

            "I'd like to talk to you," Brian said.

            "What do you want to do tonight?" Lance asked.

            JC turned his gaze from the door and looked at them.  Lance's pull was stronger, because Lance's claim was greater.  Brian was his friend, and Nick's lover, and his partner in the Fools, and in the same position with Nick as he was with Justin, in many ways.  But Lance was Lance.  Lance was his best friend.

            "Come on," Lance said, and Lance was making him offers, making him promises, no man could ever refuse.  Lance had cut his teeth on AJ McLean.  Lance had a professional hand-picking multiple partners for him night after night.  There was no doubt he'd give JC the night of a lifetime.

            "Justin asked me if you could stay in my room tonight," Brian said.  "He wants to be alone right now."

            "Justin?" JC asked, turning his attention to Brian.

            "Fuck," Lance said.  A door slammed.  JC was alone with Brian.

            "He'd like to be by himself tonight," Brian said.  "He asked them to put your stuff in my room."

            JC didn't know what to do.  Justin had locked him out.  Justin wanted to be alone. Brian's room?  JC would have preferred to spend all night pressed to the door to Justin's room, straining against possiblity to hear a breath, a heartbeat.

            "It's just one night," Brian said.  "I didn't think I could do it, so I know you think it's impossible.  But let's try.  In the morning, we'll see how he feels."

            Justin...  JC held his palm flat to the door.  Justin was on the other side.

            "JC."  Brian eased him away.  "He wants to be alone."

            Something clicked in JC's brain.  Justin wanted to be alone.  Justin got what Justin wanted.  Justin wanted to be alone.  JC went with Brian, unresisting, leaving Justin alone. 

            The only question was, what could he say he'd left on the bus?  Should he leave it vague, or name something specific?

            He'd leave it vague.  Simplicity was best.  Nick wouldn't care, anyway.  As long as it got him out of the room, they'd all be happy.  Or, Nick would be happy. Happier, at least, than with him there.

            If only he could call Brian.  How could he?  What would he say?  Brian had left Nick in his care with the understanding that he would keep Nick safe and happy, strong and beloved.  He'd hurt Nick and let down Brian.  He'd hurt Nick, and even if Nick forgave him, Brian wouldn't.  Even if Brian forgave him, he wouldn't forgive himself.

            He'd heard himself saying things he didn't want to be saying.  He'd felt his mouth shaping words he didn't want to form.  It had been horrible, a slow-motion betrayal, and as soon as the impact of what he'd done had hit him, he'd felt something open up inside, some sort of hole, a dead spot, a place of dread and fear.  He'd been living there ever since. 

            In the end, when cornered, JC, Justin, and Lance were fighters. Hitting kicking clawing punching biting fighters.  Bruising, blood-letting fighters.  Justin had already started on JC, and had to be ready to finish Lance.  Lance was bound to fight back.  Nobody could touch Justin without JC making him pay for it.

            Joey didn't have enough medical insurance to cover him wading into the middle of it.  And he didn't want to have to face the body count, afterward.

            He opened his door to go find Chris, and Lance walked into his room.  Walked in and slammed one booted foot right into the full-length mirror there on the wall.  Glass fell.

            Joey grabbed Lance's elbow and jerked him back.  Lance turned, looking at him, and the naked fury, the open wound of pain, the raw need in Lance's eyes, hit every single one of Joey's buttons. All of the protective ones, and the one that made his balls tight.  In that second, Joey wanted to help Lance and protect Lance and nurture Lance and save Lance and screw Lance all over the bed.

            Lance yanked himself free.  "Let's go."

            "Let's go where?" Joey asked, trying not to sound afraid.

            "Out."  Lance headed for the door.

            Half of Joey didn't want to go, was afraid to go, didn't want to be a part of whatever might come next.  But the other half of him wanted to be with Lance, to help and support a friend in need, to do what he could for this closest of all friends.

            Lance turned in the doorway, impatient.  "Are you coming?"

            "Yeah," Joey said, and followed. 

            Drew was mumbling something.  "What?"

            "I think I left it on the bus," Drew said, turning away before Nick had made half-decent eye contact.  "I'll go see if I can find it."

            "Find what?" Nick asked, but the door was closing.  Drew moved pretty fast.  Okay, fine.  Nick sat on the bed with a sigh.  He'd wait until Drew got back.  It had better be quick.  He had an angel to fix. 

            "I've never spent a night without him," JC said.

            "I know," Brian said.  "That doesn't mean you can't."

            "What if he needs me?"

            "He knows where to find you."

            "I just want to kiss him good night."

            "Maybe tomorrow night."

            "How do you do it?" JC asked.

            "How do I do what?" Brian asked.

            "Spend these nights alone."

            Brian sighed.  "It isn't easy.  I've had nights where I thought I'd never get to sleep.  There's the loneliness, the worry, the isolation.  There's sexual need.  Drew is my foundation.  Nick is my sunlight.  Without them, the world is a cold, dark, shaky, uncertain place.  It's hard to sleep at night, without them.  But I'm not without them.  They're always in my heart.  I keep them close.  I put them in my thoughts, and sleep comes easier."

            "Justin's independent, but what if he needs me?"

            "He knows where you are," Brian said.  "Don't you think it'll be good for him to spend one night alone?  It'll prove he can do it."

            "I know he can do it," JC said.  "He doesn't know that."

            "Maybe he'll learn," Brian said.  "You should try to get some sleep, too."

            "Without him?"

            Brian smiled.  "Try one of my tricks.  Get in bed, close your eyes, and pretend you're waiting for him.  He just left the room, he'll be right back, at any second he'll come through that door.  Relax, close your eyes, and wait for him.  Think of what he's out there doing. Think of what he'll do and say when he comes back."

            "Okay."

            Brian patted JC's back.  "He'll feel better in the morning."

            "If he never talks to me again-"

            "JC, that's ridiculous.  Justin is in love with you.  He's angry right now, but it will pass.  This is temporary.  Give him a little space.  If that doesn't work, you can try something else.  Just give him time for now.  You're off tomorrow.  He'll have all day to think about this."

            JC scratched his forehead.  He looked conflicted.  "If Justin's upset, I should be there to help him."

            "I know," Brian said.  "You will be.  You will." 

            Finally, when there was a knock, Nick got up with a quick bound and pulled open the door.

            Security.

            Drew was out for the night, but would be back in the morning.  That was all the guy would say.

            What the hell?

            What the fuck?

            Maybe Drew thought they were fighting harder than Nick thought they were.  Maybe Drew had a date with another guy.  Maybe Drew was a bad drama queen who needed a quick reality check.

            Nick was never going to be so angry at Drew that he'd want Drew to leave him alone for the night.  He might say shit, he might act stupid, but want Drew to go?  Sleep by himself when he could share a bed with Drew?  A fight was a fight, and angry was angry, but sharing Drew's bed, that wasn't something to be fucked with.

            Now he was going to have to track down his stupid roaming angel. 

            His face still ached a little from Justin hitting him.

            His body ached from not holding Justin near.

            His heart ached from having hurt Justin.  He'd hurt Justin.  Justin was in pain, and he'd caused that pain.

            He'd caused Justin pain.

            Justin. The most beautiful, magical, special person in this world.  An angel among men.  A blessed creature.  Loving, graceful, sexy Justin.

            JC closed his eyes.  He couldn't sleep.  He couldn't cry.  Justin wanted space.  Justin wanted to be away from him.  He'd suffer in silence, away from Justin, if that was what Justin wanted.

            JC whispered Justin's name to himself. 

            He didn't have to be fucked all of the damn time, either.  In fact, he was going to spend all night without sex.  What would JC think of that?  JC probably thought that he couldn't do it, that he'd never make it, that he was too dependent. Dependent on sex, dependent on JC, dependent on JC's next breath so he'd know when to breathe.

            Psycho fucker.

            Justin was just fine on his own.  He was just fucking fine without JC.

            Damn, this room was pretty big.

            JC was probably flipping out, going on and on about how Justin needed him and they couldn't be separated and whatever other bullshit JC wanted to create.  Or else JC was going stoic, holding it in, going all closed and cold and quiet.  Both were nothing more than ways to get sympathy.  Justin was through fucking sympathizing with JC.  He was flat out of sympathy.

            What, he was supposed to have sympathy for someone who was holding his love hostage?  If you ever stop loving me, I'll kill myself.  If you ever leave me, I'll shoot myself.  Justin had kicked JC out tonight, and JC was all right.

            They could spend time apart.  They could go for hours without screwing.  All of JC's lines were complete bullshit.

            Justin was not spending the rest of his life worried that he'd say the wrong thing and end up a widower.  Not happening.  He'd invested everything in JC, all of his love, all of his time, all of his emotion, and for what?  So JC could throw it all back in his face and say that it wasn't enough?

            This room was huge.  They gave rooms like this to one person at a time?  He was about to get lost somewhere between the bed and the wall.

            JC wanted to kill himself.  JC wanted to shoot himself in the head.  JC wanted to die.  So, what, fuck Justin?  Fuck Justin's love?  Fuck their friends, fuck *NSYNC, fuck everybody because JC didn't want to live without Justin?  Justin had spent years devoted to JC, living for JC, needing JC more than he needed air, and JC wanted to kill himself?

            Well, then, fuck JC.  Justin didn't need him.  Justin didn't need that kind of shit.

            Look at them now.  They were spending the night apart, and JC wasn't dead, and Justin wasn't having a grand emotional breakdown.  They were apart, and they were fine.

            Why would anyone build a hotel room this fucking enormous?  Justin was getting lost in here.  It was so fucking empty.  Empty. Huge and empty.

            Here he was, alone. Without JC.  And he was fine.  There was no one shadowing his every move. No one staring.  No one grabbing at him.  It was a relief.  It felt good.  It felt great.  He should have gotten rid of JC long ago.

            He'd wonder how JC was feeling, how JC was doing, if he cared.  He didn't care, because JC didn't care about him.  If JC cared about him, JC wouldn't be planning suicide.

            This was what life without JC would be like.  He'd have all of this space to himself. All of this huge, empty, enormous space.  This gaping, yawning space.  Plenty of room, everywhere he turned, forever.

            Funny how a room this big didn't seem to have much air in it.

            No JC.  No constant presence.  No groping hands.  No forever-staring blue eyes.  No self-deprecating smiles. No one telling him how pretty he was.  Who told grown men that they were pretty?

            That was the thing about JC.  He was so stifling.  He wanted Justin to be one certain way.  He didn't want Justin to change.

            It was cold in here. So freaking cold.  What, was the air conditioning set on "ice age?"  They had this huge room set up like a meat locker.  Justin couldn't even find the thermostat.  He felt agitated, and he didn't know why.  He should feel a great sense of relief, now that he'd finally shed himself of JC.  He was so cold he was shivering, so he knelt down to open his bag.  He fumbled the zipper, his fingers numb, and then he saw red on his hands.

            Blood.

            There was blood on his fingertips, in his nails.  He half-stumbled, half-crawled the long, long way to the far-distant bathroom, frozen, struggling to breathe the too-thin air.  When he got there, he collapsed. 

            Joey had mostly been watching Lance, keeping an eye out, making sure nothing happened.  Then he'd met a friendly young woman named Katie, and now he was having a seat while she rode his latex-sheathed dick.  He was still keeping an eye on Lance.

            He'd seen Lance do drugs before.  He'd never seen Lance do lines off a woman's back before, but it had been a very nice back.

            He'd also never seen a guy give Lance head before. A girl, yes, once, a long time ago.  The guy wasn't wasting much time, either, just going for it.

            Lance's head tipped back.  His adam's apple rose and fell.

            Joey fucked Katie a little harder.

            Lance's stance changed as Lance shifted his weight.

            A little harder.

            Lance turned his head to the side, and even in the darkness Joey could see the color in Lance's cheeks, the tension around Lance's mouth.

            Judging from the sounds she was making, Katie was coming.  Joey shifted her so she wouldn't block his vision.

            Lance's hips starting moving in a distinct thrusting motion.  Lance was fucking the guy's mouth.  He was still fully dressed, only his fly open, but that motion was so explicit, so aggressive, that it was, to Joey, horribly, horribly sexual.

            Joey wanted Lance.

            Joey wanted Lance.

            He was seized with such sudden fear and alarm that he started to back away from his impending orgasm.

            Lance's body stiffened; Lance's mouth opened; Lance's head went back and Joey could see all along Lance's neck.  Lance was coming.

            Joey came. 

            Jeff opened the door, shirtless and mussed-looking.  98 Nick was pulling his pants on in the background.  "May we help you?" Jeff asked.

            "I seem to have lost someone," Nick said. "Five six, hazel eyes, big nose, answers to the name Drew."

            "He's not here," Nick said.

            "You lost him?" Jeff asked. "How badly?"

            "He sort of ran away from home," Nick said.  "One of your security guys told me he'll be back by morning.  Do you think they kidnapped him?"

            "Probably not," Jeff said.

            "If you were fighting with Jeff, and you ran off, where would you go?" Nick asked Nick.

            "Jeff and I don't fight," Nick said, but even he couldn't hold a straight face for that one.  "I don't know.  Jeff would kick my butt if I disappeared on him."

            "I have a lot of punishments planned for Drew's butt," Nick said.

            "How was his mood last time you saw him?" Jeff asked.

            "He was mumbling and avoiding me," Nick said.

            "Angry?"

            "No, he wasn't mad.  Mostly guilty and pulling away, I think."

            "I don't think he went far," Jeff said.  "He might be here in the hotel."

            "How do you know?" 98 Nick asked.

            Jeff smiled.  "I don't, but I'm assuming he's thinking the way you think, and I know how you think."

            "This hotel?" Nick asked.

            "Big hotel," 98 Nick said.

            "Security wouldn't have let him go far," Jeff said.  "We know he's not on the first floor.  He might even be on our floor."

            "All I have to do is knock on doors," Nick said.

            "At this time of night?" Nick asked him.

            "Thanks for your help," Nick said to Jeff.  "I'll take it from here."  He left the room.

            "That didn't sound reassuring to me," Nick told Jeff.

            Nick looked up and down the hallway. Peaceful.  "Drew, if you don't open your door right now, I'm going to tell everyone in this hotel the top ten signs that Drew Carter Littrell Lachey is aroused.  Number one, Drew's big fat dick gets hard.  Number two, Drew gets fussy and itchy.  Number three, Drew starts touching me in ways most men don't touch other men.  Number four, his eyes-"

            A door at the end of the hallway opened.

            "There you are," Nick said, and jogged down there.  "Stop hiding from me."

            Drew looked miserable.  He looked like he'd been huddled up hating himself.  He walked away from the door and pulled on a sleeveless shirt, then wrapped his arms around his waist like he was holding the pain inside.

            Nick locked the door and turned on the light.  He walked up to Drew and lifted Drew's chin, leaning in to kiss-

            Drew turned his face aside before Nick could make contact.  He stepped back, face averted, eyes downcast.

            "Stop hiding from me," Nick said again.  He watched Drew.  Drew didn't move.  "I know you're sorry.  I can tell it was an out-of-body experience for you like it was for me.  You never should have said what you said, and I shouldn't have said what I said.  We both got royally fucking pissed at you.  Maybe too pissed, because now you're hurting, and I don't want that."

            Drew turned away a little more.

            "Your brother is the drama queen, not you.  I'm not putting up with a shitload of, what the hell is it called, self-created drama.  Carter LittrellLachey, not Timberlake Chasez.  I know it rhymes, but don't get confused.  You're sorry.  I'm forgiving you.  It doesn't have to be any bigger than that.  And I sure as hell am not watching you take a ride on the Lachey Guilt-a-Whirl.  You feel bad, but you don't have to drown yourself in it.  I'm a big boy.  I can recover from having my feelings hurt.  You should hear the shit AJ and Kevin have said to me over the years."

            Drew's hand crept up his shoulder, tightening his self-embrace, but it looked like confusion, now, not pain.

            "I'm also pissed at you for acting like you were going to leave me alone tonight, but I'm still going to forgive you and make love to you."

            Drew gave a slight twitch of surprise.

            "I should warn you, I guess, that later I'm going to make you tell me why you said all of that shit. I know you have some deeper, very stupid reason, and I want to know what it is."

        Drew's back tensed.

            Nick began to undress.  He was just out of Drew's line of sight, and Drew didn't turn to look, even when Nick's underwear sailed right past him.  Nick climbed onto the bed, settling onto his back, getting comfortable. "Poor me.  All young and blond and gay and fuckable, just waiting...  Waiting..."  Nick sighed.  "It's rough being a bottom."

            Drew peeked.

            This might take forever.  Nick decided to speed things up.  He went to the end of the bed, grabbed Drew, and hauled Drew bodily up the mattress.  He didn't give Drew a chance to get a good protest in before he started kissing Drew's mouth.  Drew squirmed a little, but when Nick started feeling him up through his underwear, he stopped complaining and started moaning, rubbing and clutching, dick stiffening up fast.

            Mmm, yeah, yes, mmm...  This was good, this was... Ooo...  Nick liked this.  He wanted Drew's dick, so he reached in Drew's drawers and took it. Drew's hips started moving, and Drew started kissing him faster, and- 

            Fuck!  Without warning, right in the middle of a kiss, Drew pushed him aside and slid away.  "I can't do this, it's not right."

            Nick tried to be good.  He wanted to support Drew, to understand, to help.  But damn it, he wanted to bitch and hit something.  He'd been so fucking close to getting laid.  Damn it.  Couldn't Drew have issues after sex, like normal people?

            Now Drew was trying to get off the bed.  Nick grabbed his arm and snatched him back, pulling hard until Drew fell against him.  That was better.  Drew tried to run away, but Nick wrapped him up and rolled over until he was trapped.

            Drew accepted defeat.

            "Eye contact."

            Drew looked at him, sad and hurting and self-hating.

            "I'm going to let you up, but you can't leave the bed.  Stay on the bed or I'll beat your ass."  Nick let go; Drew sat at the foot of the bed, ready to run.

            Drew was still wearing underwear and a T-shirt.  Nick was still ass naked.  Nick didn't really care.  He sprawled out on his stomach, taking up most of the bed, and rested his chin on his hand, looking at Drew.  "What's wrong?  We can't screw because you feel bad?"

            "I wasn't treating you right," Drew said.

            "What does that mean?"

            "I wasn't..."  Drew looked down.  "After everything I said, after I was...  Now I'm jumping you like...  It shouldn't be that way.  I should make love to you.  Every touch should be an apology.  I should treasure your forgiveness.  But my body was too quick to..."

            "What is this should?  Things should be a certain way, you should touch me like whatever.  Should according to who?"

            "Me."

            "And?"

            "Brian."

            "Brian isn't here."

            "He wouldn't like it.  If he saw us right now, if he saw me treating you like..."

            "Drew.  Brian's not here.  I'm here, and I don't mind you grabbing my ass and-"

            Drew looked at him sharply.  "Maybe you should."

            Nick didn't like the look in Drew's eyes or the tone of Drew's voice.

            Drew looked away again.

            Nick sat up, drawing his legs together.  "Give me my clothes."  Drew did, and Nick redressed.

            They sat in silence.

            "I'll give my body to whoever I want whenever I want," Nick said.  "You can have my body whenever you want it.  I decided that.  It's not because you're nice to me or because you smile at me.  It's because I love you, and you love me, and you gave me your ring, and I gave you Brian.  We're in love with each other, and I know you want my body, and I like feeling wanted.  I like sex, Drew, I like sex, and I like it when you initiate sex, and I like it when you jump me and take what you want.  That's what I'm here for.  To give you what you want.  If it didn't feel good or I thought it wasn't right, I'd stop you.  I have stopped you, a few times, and sometimes you try to argue, but you've never done anything against my will, so it's not like I'm afraid of that."

            "You let people treat you badly.  You let me treat you badly.  You don't demand to be treated well because you don't expect to be treated well."

            "Treated well by which people?  You do treat me well, Drew.  Except for this one stupid fight, you've always been good to me.  You treat me better than almost everybody else does.If you don't want to jump me and fuck me, if you want it slower or whatever, go ahead and do it slower.  Change styles.  It's that easy."

            "It's not that easy."

            "Look at me."  Nick pulled on Drew's shoulder until Drew turned enough to look at him.  "Now tell me what you want."

            "Why are you looking at me like that?" Drew asked.

            "While you tell me what you want, I'm going to listen for what your heart really wants, no matter what your mouth says.  Go ahead.  I'm listening."

            Drew looked away.

            Nick waited.

            Drew got up and walked around the room.

            Nick sat back and waited.

            Drew walked towards the bed.  He sat down by Nick's feet.

            Nick waited.

            Drew looked at him.  "I want you to make love to me.  I want to feel that you've forgiven me so I can lose all of this guilt."

            Nick smiled.

            "I wish Brian were here," Drew said.  "I want him to be here with you, loving you."

            Nick stood, taking Drew's hand, pulling Drew up with him.  "I'm taking you back to our room to make love with you. But.  Hey."  He rubbed his thumb over the back of Drew's hand. "You have to let me.  You have to give in to me.  You can't start feeling bad or going back inside your head.  You said shit, you're sorry you said shit, we're going to talk about why you said shit later.  I'm forgiving you.  We're making love.  You want me to lift you up, and I want to do that for you, but it's not going to happen unless you let go and let me."

            "Lift...  How...did you know?" Drew asked.

            "Your eyes were begging me for it earlier.  Come on."  Nick pulled Drew out of the room and down the hallway.  Back in their room, he locked the door and walked Drew to the bed.  He raised Drew's chin.  "Let go."

            There was pain and confusion in Drew's eyes.

            Okay, so Drew couldn't let go consciously.  Brian made Nick let go all of the time, but how?  Aha.  Nick kissed Drew, nice and deep.  "Give yourself to me," he murmured, and kissed Drew some more.  "Drew."  Kiss, kiss.  "Angel." More kissing.  Mmm, Drew was getting into it.  Nick backed Drew onto the bed, climbing on top, and started to shed clothes.  "Give yourself to me.  I want to make love to you."  Drew was making nice little noises.  "Drew."

            "Say what you really mean," Drew said.  "Not romance, tell me what you really want."

            Nick stopped kissing him and looked down at him.  "God, I just want to fuck you."

            Drew laughed.

            Nick tickled him.

            Drew laughed harder and swatted Nick's hands.

            "Come on, you're supposed to melt so I can make love to you all romantic and steamy.  You're not melting," Nick said.

            "That's your fault.  Melt me," Drew said.

            "I don't think we're in the romantic and steamy mood tonight.  We're in the horny fucking mood tonight.  Why?"

            "I don't know," Drew said.

            "Because we had a fight?"

            "Because you're going to leave," Drew said, and didn't look away.

            "Oh."  Ouch.  "Drew, I don't want to go."  He didn't.  His stomach hurt every time he thought about it.

            "You have to go," Drew said, and hugged him, and caressed his back, his shoulders.  "Make love to me," Drew said.

            Nick kissed him.  It was slow and erotic.  Nick made love to him.  It was romantic and steamy.  They stayed wrapped up together, neither one wanting to part. 

            JC got up.

            "JC?" Brian asked.

            JC went into the hallway, closing Brian's door.  He went to Justin's room and touched the door.  Justin.  He pressed both hands to the door.  Justin.  He didn't hear anything, but the light was still on.  JC stood against the door, leaning into it with his whole body, closing his eyes, wishing himself through to the other side.  Justin. 

            No air.  Couldn't breathe.  Suffocating.

            Blood under his nails.  Not old, not dried.  New, fresh.  His.

            Wet.  Wet on his face.  Tears.  When had he started crying?

            Had to get out.  Had to escape.  Had to find JC.  Had to find JC no matter what, no matter what, no matter what.

            Justin crawled out of the bathroom.  His knees failed him.  He dragged himself along the carpet.  The room was immense.  It was too far to the door.

            Had to find JC. Had to get to JC. No matter what.

            Couldn't breathe.  Tears in his eyes, sight dimming, couldn't see.  Too cold, numb, couldn't feel.  Felt pain. Pain inside.  Wanted to die.

            Had to get to JC.  Where was JC.  JC was gone.

            The door was too far away, too far.

            He'd stopped moving.  He began again.

            JC.

            JC.

            JC.

            He'd stopped.  He'd run into something.  The door.   He was at the door.  He had to get out.  The doorknob was up too high.  Couldn't reach.  Was going to die here without JC.

            JC.

            Had to get to JC.  No matter what.  Scale mountains.  Swim oceans.  Get to JC.

            Justin gripped the doorjamb, clung to it, and pushed himself up.  Pulled himself to his feet.  Unlocked the door.

            The door opened.

            He was in  JC's  arms.

            JC tried to get Justin into the room, but Justin refused to go back in there. JC put Justin's back to the wall for support, and pulled off his shirt, letting Justin burrow into him.  He stood close to Justin, continuing to run his hands over Justin's body for the reassurance of constant touch, whispering his love.

            Justin refused to settle down.  He refused to be calmed.  His movements were agitated and anxious.  He was still crying, and shivering from cold.  JC couldn't warm him.

            "What's wrong, Justin, what do you need?  How can I help you?"  He tried to make eye contact, stroking Justin's cheeks.  "Anything, Justin, anything at all, baby, tell me what I can do."  JC touched Justin's hair.  "What do you need?  What's wrong?"

            Justin clung to him, sobbing, shaking, tormented.  Justin's hands were ice.  He seemed to be having trouble breathing, as though he couldn't get enough oxygen to his lungs.

            "I'm right here, Justin, I'm right here with you.  I'm here with you and I'll always be with you.  I'll never leave you, Justin, I'm always here.  I'm in you forever, just like I promised you I would be.  Remember, Justin?  I'm always inside you.  I'm in you so deep you'll feel it the rest of your life.  Remember, baby? Always inside you."

            Justin started clawing at JC's back, pulling him closer, pressing into his chest.  Justin wanted to be closer, but there was no way to...

            JC pulled down Justin's pants. 

            Lance was high.  He didn't act high, but he was too forced and precise.  It was in his eyes, too, mixed in with that dangerous anger, that primal pain, from earlier.

            As soon as the elevator doors opened, they heard it. Raw need.  Justin.

            Lance made a soft, angry, animal noise.

            Joey walked in front of Lance, as if he were a strong enough barrier.  Turning the corner, he saw it.  JC was fucking Justin against the wall, right there in the hallway. Clothes on and everything.  Justin was mostly making panting, pained noises like his soul hurt, but once in a while he cried out like he'd been mortally wounded.  JC was fucking him hard with short, sharp thrusts that forced out those sounds of raw need.

            Lance's fingers dug into Joey's forearm.  His voice was right behind Joey's ear.  "We're going out, and we are finding me people to fuck.  I don't care who they are."

            Justin started to make this sound, a high-pitched wailing.  It was sharp and almost...piercing.  It struck something in the back of Joey's consciousness. Keening.  Justin was keening.

            Lance's voice: "Now."

            That piercing cry.

            Lance's fingers digging into his arm.

            Justin's keening.

            Lance's eyes.

            It was a madhouse full of terrible, wrenching pain.

            Joey went with Lance just to escape the sound. 

            Brian opened the door.

            "I have to get out," Chris said.  "Come with me?"

            Brian pulled on his jeans, found his sneakers, and grabbed his key.  They went down the stairs, since to get to the elevators they'd have to pass JC and Justin, and Chris couldn't do that again.

            They walked the streets, security behind them, getting lost in the city.  Sometimes they walked in silence; sometimes they talked about the Fools, or the tour, or their plans for tomorrow.

            "They're my best friends," Chris said.  "I can't see them like that."

            "I know," Brian said.

            "You have to do something," Chris said.  He stopped walking and turned to Brian.  "Please.  Please.  Whatever magical powers everyone else thinks you have, use them.  They need your help.  I'm desperate.  Something has to happen, and if you can help them..."

            "I'm going to try," Brian said.  "I'll do my best.  I'll need your help."

            "I can't see them like this anymore.  I can't watch them go through this.  We thought things were better, I was almost hoping, and now..."

            "I know," Brian said.  "We'll all do everything we can."

            They started walking again.

            "Sometimes I feel like that," Chris said.  "Not like I need to be locked up in a padded cell, but...  I've joked about being the JC to Howie's Justin, but I said it because it was true.  It felt like that to me.  I was obsessed, obsessed, Howie was all I cared about.  He was on a pedestal and all I wanted was to worship.  And now, now I'm not even JC anymore, now I'm Justin. Needy and desperate and dependent.  It scares me.  I don't want to feel all of that desperation and dependency.  I don't want to feel this much need.  I've seen it in Justin, and now I'm seeing it in myself, and that's scary as hell."

            "You wouldn't be as scared if you believed more in Howie's love.  If you had confidence that he'd stand firm on his side of the equation, you wouldn't be as afraid.  But you're afraid that you'll be Justin, dependent on him, desperate for him, full of need, and that Howie won't be there."

            "Yeah, that's it," Chris said.

            "Chris, Howie is in love with you.  He's talked to me about it.  I know Howie very well.  He's in love with you, and he's very committed to the idea of creating a lasting partnership with you."

            That sounded too much like marriage talk.

            "Howie isn't going to get caught up in the need, and create more need in you.  He won't be the JC to your Justin because that isn't in him.  But he can be a stable, grounding force for you.  Not all couples create cycles of need.  Healthy couples balance each other, instead of encouraging each other's madness.  JC exploits Justin's need, and Justin exploits JC's worship. Howie won't exploit that in you, which gives you the freedom to feel it without giving yourself over to it."

            "Name me one couple in our circle of insanity who's managed that," Chris said.

            "Nick and Jeff," Brian said. "Very healthy relationship, very strong marriage.  They have a lot of balance in their relationship.  Nick keeps trying to put Jeff on a pedestal, but Jeff refuses to stay there.  Jeff loves Nick beyond belief, but when he expresses it, Nick gets embarrassed.  When JC tells Justin he's the most beautiful amazing creature to walk the earth, Justin soaks it up like a sponge.  If Nick told Jeff that, Jeff would tell him to get his head examined.  If you told Howie that, he'd be flattered, but if you made it a habit, he'd be uncomfortable and make you stop."

            "What about you?"

            "What about me?" Brian asked, not to be difficult, but curious.

            "Do they tell you that?  Do you tell them that?"

            "I've said something similar, to Nick and to Drew."

            "And they told you to go soak your head?"

            "Nick likes to hear the words."  Clearly there was a lot more behind that, but Brian wasn't telling Chris everything, and Chris could respect that.  "I only say things like that to Drew when he's," Brian smiled, "susceptible."

            Chris laughed.

            "There's a little bit of JC and a little bit of Justin inside every good relationship, somewhere.  The trick is not to let it go too far. Howie won't let you go too far."

            They continued on in silence for another block or two.

            "If I asked you for the truth, would you give it to me?" Chris asked.

            Brian thought about it for a few steps.  "Yes," he decided.

            Chris looked at Brian out of the corner of his eye.  "Do I need to worry about AJ?"

            Brian smiled.  "That's a tricky question.  I'll tell you this.  Until AJ gets settled where he needs to be, until he finds his harbor, everyone needs to worry about AJ.  No one whose lover has a libido is safe until AJ gets what he wants.  But, do you need to worry about Howie?  No.  You don't need to worry about Howie."

            A few more steps of silence.  "Good answer," Chris finally said.

            "Thank you."

            Chris let out a deep breath.  "God, I feel so much better, I think I'm going to faint."

            Brian smiled.  "True love can do that to you." 

            Joey grabbed Lance's hand.

            Lance yanked his hand back, glaring up at Joey.  "Fuck off."

            "You've had enough," Joey said.  Lance was so trashed, it hurt to look at him.  It wasn't just the drugs or the alcohol, either.  It was all of the damage done by AJ, by JC, by Lance himself. Trashed by love.

            Lance snatched up the bag again.  Joey tore it from his fingers and Lance stood.  Almost fell on his ass, but stood.  "Fuck off!" Lance said, shouting this time, loud.  "Give me that!"

            "No," Joey said.  "You can keep your friends, you can keep the vodka, but not this.  You've had enough."

            Lance grabbed for it, but Joey wouldn't give it back.  The trouble was, Lance had been fighting irrational anger all night, and this scene was getting too close to violence.  Joey was trying to hold Lance back, when Lance pushed him.  Joey tried to back up, to create distance, and Lance hit him.  It was in the stomach, at a bad angle, so it didn't do much.  Joey took it and forgave.

            That didn't satisfy Lance.  He'd been taking so much pain, apparently, he'd decided that now was the time to give back to the community, starting with Joey.

            Joey was bigger than Lance, and not easily hurt.  Lance was trashed and irrational.

            Lance was also still wearing his boots, and after years of choreography, he could kick fairly high, not to mention pretty damned hard.

            Joey first managed to tuck the coke down the back of his pants, inside his drawers.  Then he managed not to get knocked on his ass by Lance's Van Damme impression.  Then he grabbed Lance, threw Lance across the bed, snatched up all the other party supplies Lance's new friends had brought while Lance was still falling off the other side of the bed, and was out the door while Lance recovered enough to curse him out.

            Back in his room, Joey flushed assorted pharmaceuticals.  Then he checked out the sore spots on his thighs and chest where Lance's fucking boots had got him.

            Tomorrow was a day off.  The tour was almost over.  He'd let Lance try to run from the pain tonight.  But they were going to have to talk.  Self-destruction was not the way to go.

            They were bad friends. Lousy, shitty friends.  They should have said something.  But they'd all been so busy trying to deny that anything was happening...  To say or do something to Lance would be to act on what he was doing, which would mean admitting that he was doing anything, and they couldn't do that.  They couldn't admit that Lance was making moves on JC.

            They'd wanted to protect Justin, protect JC.

            What about fucking protecting Lance?

            JC and Justin could take care of themselves.  JC and Justin could protect each other.  Who was looking out for Lance?

            That was supposed to be Joey's job.

            He hadn't done it. 

            He hadn't wanted to let go.  He hadn't been able to let go.  Even after JC had stopped being literally physically inside him, he couldn't let go.  They'd moved together into the closest room.  It might have been the room he'd just come out of, but it felt vastly different now.  It was such a nice room...

            They were on the bed. Being.  Existing.  Together.  They'd blended, moving over and under and around each other.  He'd memorized all of the tiny hairs at the back of JC's neck.  He'd chipped all of the polish off JC's right hand.  He'd massaged JC's calves.  They'd made love, long and slow, putting their bodies together for mutual pleasure.

            They took a bath together.

            Justin didn't have a lot to say.  Neither did JC.  They didn't want to talk.  They didn't want to do anything.  They just wanted to be together.

            In bed, clean and dry. Drowsy.  Justin carefully fitted his palm to JC's arm.  He curled his fingers.  He was touching JC.  They were connected at this point of contact.  Every place they were touching was a point of contact.  Every point of contact was a connection.

            Justin rolled onto his back, and JC came with him, one fluid movement.  JC shifted a little, and Justin tilted his head slightly, and they were in contact, cheek to cheek, chest to chest, groin to groin, palm to palm.  Justin closed his eyes.

            "I-

            "-love-"

            "-you."