Copyright April 2, 2002-January 20, 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.

        Joey hesitated.  “Hey.”

        “May we help you?” Chris asked, not looking up.

        “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

        “Are you really, or are you just saying that because Brian told you to apologize?” Chris asked.

        Howie looked up, finally, and said, “It’s okay.”

        “You’re letting him off the hook?” Chris asked.

        “He didn’t have to apologize, but he did it anyway,” Howie said.

        “Of course he had to apologize!” Chris said.

        “No, he didn’t.  Not to me.  You know what he thinks of me.”  Howie met Joey’s eyes again.  “Thank you.”

        “I don’t...hate you,” Joey said.  “Not anymore.”  He watched Howie’s hair slide through Chris’s fingers.

        “What changed your mind?” Howie asked.

        “You,” Joey said.

        “Black or gray?” JC asked without looking up.

        “Gray.”

        “It’s in my bag.”

        “Thanks.”  Justin took off.

        JC caught the smile on Brian’s face.  “What?”

        “Seeing you two together makes me miss Nick.  And Drew.”

        “I can’t imagine being away from Justin like that,” JC said.

        “The way you look after Justin, it’s a lot like the way I look after Nick.  Right now, all I can do is trust that Drew’s taking care of him for me, the way I would.”

        Jeff winced.  Nick looked away.  “Let’s get him back to bed,” Justin suggested.

        Drew, on his knees rubbing Nick’s back, said, “Come on.  You need to lay down again.”

        Nick coughed and spat weakly.  Justin handed Drew a glass of water, which Drew handed to Nick to rinse out his mouth.  They helped Nick up and got him back to Drew’s bunk.

        Justin guided Drew back.  “You have to do something.”

        “I can take care of him,” Drew said.  “Everybody gets sick on tour.  He’ll be fine.”

        “It’s all right to ask for help,” Justin said.

        “He’s my lover,” Drew said.  “I can take care of him.”

        “It’s all right to ask for help,” Justin repeated, firmly but kindly.

        “We swore to each other we’d get through everything ourselves.  How’s it going to look if I run to Brian the first time something happens?”

        “This isn’t the first thing that’s happened.  Yes, you’re Nick’s lover, but you’ve never been with him while he’s been sick, and there’s no shame in going to someone more experienced.”

        “It’s just a little cold.”

        “He’s gray.”  Justin handed Drew Nick's phone.  “Make the call.”

        “I can’t-”

        “You don’t have to call Brian.”

        “Then who-”  Light dawned.  Drew’s face brightened with hope.  He found the right number in Nick's phone and dialed.

        “Hello.”

        “Kevin?  This is Drew.  Drew-”

        “I know who Drew is,” Kevin said, sounding slightly amused.

        “Right.  Nick’s...”  Drew scratched the back of his neck.  “Nick’s sick.  He’s throwing up and he looks a little...gray.  Do you have any advice on what I can do?”

        “Nick’s gray,” Kevin said.  “Rub his back, give him a lot of ginger ale, give him a lot of comic books to read.  If you leave him alone, he’ll be climbing out of his bunk to see what’s going on, so if you want him to stay in there and rest, you have to have someone in there to keep him company all of the time.  And no sex.  As long as he’s throwing up, getting aroused makes him nauseous.”

        “No sex?” Drew asked.  Not that he’d expected Nick to be in the mood, but he wasn’t used to the idea of “Nick” and “no sex” being connected.  He ignored the snickers of his so-called friends.

        “Not unless you want him to throw up on you every time you kiss him,” Kevin said.

        “Okay.  Is there anything else?”

        “No Saltines.  They’re too dry, and if you try to give him some, he’ll swear at you.  Something we’ve all learned from experience.  When he’s sick he always asks for crackers, and he never means Saltines.”

        “Okay.  Crackers.”

        “That’s about it.”

        “Thank you,” Drew said.  “I really appreciate it.”

        “Good luck,” Kevin said.

        Drew hung up and turned to the others.  “Do we have ginger ale?”

        “No,” Jeff said.

        “Crackers?”

        “Gone,” Nick said.

        “Comic books?”

        “No,” Justin said.

        “There is a sick Backstreet Boy on our bus,” Drew said.  “We have to do something.”

        “We can’t stop the tour to go shopping for ginger ale,” Nick said.  “Where did you get this idea that Backstreet Boys are a higher class of people?”

        “You’re saying they aren’t?” Justin asked.

        “They’re just people!  They’re like anyone else,” Nick said.

        “No, I think they’re higher beings,” Jeff said.

        “I’m pretty sure of it,” Justin agreed.

        “We’re with Jive,” Drew said.  “They’re with Jive.  All of those people who only half-give us what we want will give us anything we ask for if we explain it’s for Nick and he’s sick.”

        “Hey, great idea,” Jeff said.  “Can we tell them Nick’s on his deathbed and all he’s asking for is a bigger stage for our tour?”

        “And a better bus,” Justin said.

        “And a better wardrobe,” Nick said.

        “I second that,” Justin said.

        “Tell them Nick is on our bus and he’s ill, and we’re witholding his vitamins until they meet our demands,” Jeff said.

        “He hasn’t been taking his vitamins,” Nick said.

        “Yes, he has,” Drew said.

        “No, he...oh,” Nick said.  “You didn’t know that.”

        “No, I didn’t know that,” Drew said.

        “What?  I didn’t say anything,” Nick said.  “Is it hot in here?”

        “Nick isn’t taking his vitamins?” Drew asked.  “You knew?”

        “They’re vitamins, not insulin!  It’s not like-”

        “It’s not like he’ll get sick if he doesn’t take them!” Drew said.

        “How was I supposed to know?” Nick asked.  “He’s an adult, he can do whatever he wants.”

        “Nick’s always sick on tour.  That’s why he takes all of those vitamins and drinks orange juice and-”

        “Everyone gets sick on tour,” Nick said.

        “Not like the Backstreet Boys,” Drew said.

        “That’s ridiculous,” Nick said.

        “Have you ever seen me turn gray?” Drew asked.

        “Fine, so he should’ve taken his vitamins.  Why are you yelling at me?  He’s the one who stopped taking them.”

        “You should’ve told me!”

        “I thought you knew!”

        “Of course I didn’t know!  He told me he was taking them!”

        Justin turned to Jeff and whispered in dramatic tones, “Nick lied to Drew.”  Jeff gave a horrified gasp.

        “Shut up,” Drew said to them.  “Why’d he stop taking them?”

        “Half our tour thinks he’s doing drugs,” Nick said.

        “Are we big enough stars to go diva and fire half the tour?” Drew asked.

        “No,” Justin said.

        “Sorry,” Jeff said.

        “Now, if we were Backstreet Boys,” Justin started.

        “Shut up!” Nick said. “At least mix it up a little and say *NSYNC.”

        “No, they’re too nice,” Jeff said.  “I can’t see them firing half their tour.”

        “You,” Drew said to Justin, “get your phone and get me ginger ale, comic books, and any half-decent crackers that are not, are not, Saltines.  Nick, find me something Nick can throw up in in case he can’t get to the toilet on time.  Jeff, I want you on stand-by, because apparently Nick likes around-the-clock company to rub his back and feed him crackers.”

        “Me?” Jeff asked.

        Nick and Justin slapped hands.

        “Yes, you,” Drew said.

        Nick and Justin did a miniature celebration dance.

        “Grow up,” Drew said.

        “Get me something,” Lance said.

        “What do you want?” Joey asked, on his way.

        “I don’t know.  Isn’t there pizza in there?” Lance asked.

        Joey looked.  “Yeah.  You want it?”

        “Yeah.”

        “What?  Pizza?” Chris asked from out of nowhere.  “No!”  He burst from his bunk.  “No!”

        “What?” Joey asked.

        “Hey, that looks good,” Justin said, lifting the plate from Joey’s hand.

        “Hey, that’s Lance’s,” Joey said.

        “It’s mine!” Chris said.  “It’s mine!  That’s my pizza!”

        “Says who?” Justin asked, lifting it over his head so Chris couldn’t reach it.

        “I was saving it!  I’m going to eat it!  You can’t have it!” Chris said.

        “You didn’t eat it, now it’s Lance’s,” Joey said.

        “I’m the one holding it,” Justin said.

        Joey grabbed Chris to keep him from jumping around.  Justin went up on his toes to taunt Chris further.  “I got it out of the fridge for Lance,” Joey said.

        “I have it in my hand for me,” Justin said.

        “Chris, do you need help?” Howie asked.

        “No!  Yes!” Chris said.  “Howie, they’re eating my pizza!”

        Howie got out of Chris’s bunk, pulling on his shirt.  Damn, Howie had a good body.  Joey tried to erase that thought from his mind.  “Give him the pizza,” Howie said.

        “It’s mine!” Chris agreed.

        “It’s Lance’s,” Joey said.

        “It’s mine!” Justin said.

        “Give me back my pizza!” Chris said.  “I bought it, I paid for it, I ate the first half of it!”

        “Any food in the fridge becomes common property,” Joey said.

        “I bought it, and I paid for it,” Howie said.

        “Oh.  Right.  Howie bought it, Howie paid for it, for me!  It was his gift to me, it was a present, you can’t eat my present!”

        “It’s pizza,” Justin said.  “If it were an engagement ring, then we’ll talk.”

        “Engagement?  Who said engagement?  I never said that,” Chris said.

        “You’re weird,” Justin said.

        Joey took advantage of the moment and lunged for the pizza in Justin’s hand.

        “JC!” Justin shouted.

        “Even he can’t save you now,” Joey said, trying to get Justin off-balance, grabbing for the plate.

        JC came tearing down the aisle and jumped, landing on Joey’s back, holding on tight with his arms and legs.  Justin danced out of range, laughing and gloating.

        “My pizza!” Chris cried.

        “I’ll buy you another one,” Howie promised.

        Lance, still seated and uninvolved in the drama, asked, “Does this mean I’ll be going hungry?”

        JC let go, sliding down Joey’s back to stand.  “Brian left some of Paolo’s cheese fries in there.  Stick ‘em in the microwave and it’s like gourmet.”

        “I don’t want to eat Brian’s food,” Lance said, not sure he was close enough to Brian to steal from him.

        “It’s okay,” Brian called.  “Go ahead.  They’re good.”

        “Chris, you could learn a lot from him,” Joey said.

        “Bite me,” Chris said.

        “It's okay,” Howie said.  “Brian expects his food to be eaten.  He wouldn't know what to do if it were still there when he went back for it.”

        “And why is that?” Joey asked.

        “He's with Nick,” Howie said.

        “JC, you want some pizza?” Justin asked from the other end of the bus.

        JC grinned and went to eat with Justin.

        Chris screamed with frustration.

        Joey watched JC go.  He asked Lance, “Does this mean we’re okay?”

        “I think so,” Lance said.

        “Is he a lot more mellow than he used to be?”

        “I think so,” Lance said.

        “He forgives major affronts.  He’s more open and public about his sex life.  Next thing you know, we’ll see him checking out some guy’s ass besides Justin’s.”

        Lance smiled.

        Joey wanted to hit himself.  That thinking first, speaking second idea was gaining in appeal, rapidly.  He tried to backtrack.  “Things’ll never go that far, though.  JC would never look at anyone else.”

        “I don’t know,” Lance said.  “Things change.”

        Chris gasped.

        Joey almost had a heart attack.

        Chris looked like he was waiting for God, or JC to strike them down.

        Nothing happened.  The continents did not shift.  Lance did not fall over and die.  The earth did not swallow them whole.

        Joey still didn’t feel safe.  They’d lucked out; maybe JC and Justin hadn’t heard.  But next time...

        There would be a next time.

        If Lance was taking things this far, there was no way he wouldn’t take things a step farther.

        Joey didn’t want to be around to witness it.

        He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out alive.

        Maybe Backstreet Boys really were super-human.  Drew knew that when he was sick, he looked awful.  Normal people did.  But Nick looked as good as ever.  It was bizarre that Nick could look gray and still look good.

        Drew wondered when was the last time Nick had been sick and Brian hadn’t been around.  That couldn’t be helping.  It was like a kid being sick for the first time away from home.  There had to be something Drew could do...

        “Missy Hendrickson, twelfth grade,” Joey said.  “The last time you told Justin you love him,” he said to JC.

        “About half an hour ago,” JC said.  “The first guy you looked at,” he said to Chris.

        “Howie,” Chris said.

        “If you’ve only wanted one guy your whole life, you’re not bi,” Justin said.  “Liar, liar, pants on fire. Who’s the first guy you really looked at?”

        “Howie,” Chris said.

        “Who.  Is.  The.  First.  Guy-”

        “JC,” Chris said.  “Come on, everybody looks at JC.  He doesn’t even count.  Straight guys look at JC.  Lesbians look at JC.  Blind dogs look at JC.”

        “Blind dogs?” Lance asked.

        “Yeah, my turn,” Chris said.  “Lance.  The last time you masturbated.”

        “Last night,” Lance said.

        Justin pretended he didn’t care that Lance had jacked off right after being on top of, and all over, JC.

        “Justin,” Lance said.  “Last time you went an entire day without an orgasm.”

        Justin thought about it.  “Right before we got to Kendig.”

        “What if you don’t count masturbation?” Lance asked.

        “Same answer,” Justin said.  “Right before we got to Kendig.”

        JC made love to Justin every day.  Every day.  Without fail.  And it wasn’t a one-orgasm quick screw, either.  What could it be like to experience that incredible, shattering sex once, twice, three times a day?

        “Is there ever a day you don’t have sex?” Chris asked.  “Is there ever a day you’re just too tired?  You have to put a lot of time and a lot of energy into your sex life.  Don’t you just want to skip it one night?”

        “No,” Justin said.

        “Do you even remember what normal sex is like?” Joey asked.

        “Yeah,” Justin said.  “I used to have a normal life, a normal sex life, normal orgasms, the whole deal.”

        “Normal orgasms?” Chris asked.  “Are you trying to tell us that even the orgasms are better?”

        “I don’t remember him screaming during sex before JC,” Joey said.

        “Guys,” JC said.

        “Okay, okay, just one question,” Chris said.  “Just one.”

        “What is it?” Justin asked.

        “What does JC do to you in bed?”

        Justin smiled.  “He loves me.”

        “I love Howie, and I’ve never made him break furniture,” Chris said.

        “JC loves me his own way, and he expresses his love his own way,” Justin said.  “Every relationship is different.”

        “Yeah,” Joey said.  “JC and Justin’s relationship is just more different than most people’s.”

        “He looks miserable,” Nick whispered.  “Did Drew take his temperature?”

        Jeff stopped in the middle of the room and thought about it.  “We’re such guys,” he muttered, and picked up the hotel phone.  “Yeah, this is Jeff.  Could you please track down a thermometer for us?  No, the - - we need to take Nick’s temperature.  Thanks.”  He set down the phone.  “If we ask for one more thing, they’re going to start sending doctors up here.”

        “That might not be a bad idea,” Nick said.

        “He looks awful,” Jeff said.  “You could touch him.”

        Nick hesitated.

        “Nick.  The two of you are new best friends.  He’s sick, he’s miserable, he looks five years younger all over again.  Do whatever you’d do if I weren’t in the room.”

        Nick hesitated.

        Nick frowned, twitched, and kicked off all of his covers.

        Nick lay down with Nick, murmuring soothing things as softly as he could so Jeff wouldn’t overhear and embarrass him, wrapping his arm around Nick and rubbing Nick’s back as instructed by Drew.

        Nick twitched and quieted down again.

        “I can’t stand to be touched when I’m sick,” Jeff said.

        “I know,” Nick muttered.

        Jeff laughed and poured ginger ale into a cup.  “Sorry about that.”

        “Right.  He looks better, don’t you think?”

        “He doesn’t look gray anymore, he looks like he has a fever.  The color in his cheeks make him look great, but it doesn’t mean he’s any healthier.”

        “Oh.”

        Jeff put crackers on a plate.  Nick watched him, idly rubbing Nick’s back, wondering how sick Nick had to get before either a doctor or Brian would show up.  He returned his gaze back to Nick, and found Nick looking at him.  Oh.  “Hi.”

        “Hi.”  Weak, unhappy, but trying to be friendly.

        “How do you feel?” Nick asked.

        “Like I wanna throw up.”

        “We have crackers and ginger ale, if you want them later,” Nick said.  Jeff set a little table by the bed, putting the crackers and ginger ale there.

        The noise and movement attracted Nick’s attention.  He looked over his shoulder.  “Hey.”

        “Hi.” Jeff said, and gently smoothed back Nick’s hair.  “Can I get you something?”

        “Where’s Drew?”

        “He went to get something.  He’ll be back soon,” Jeff said.

        “Do you want a doctor?” Nick asked.

        “I’m not that sick,” Nick said.  “What is Jeff doing back there?”

        “You could roll over and look,” Nick suggested.

        “I don’t feel like moving.”

        “He has a table with crackers, ginger ale, comic books, and a bowl to throw up in,” Nick said.

        “Comic books?” Nick asked.  “Which ones?”

        “Uh...good ones,” Nick said.  He looked to Jeff for titles, but Jeff only smirked at him.  Jeff was always a lot of help.  “Are you sure we can’t get you something?”

        “I’m okay.”

        Jeff made noise, so Nick looked up.  Jeff mouthed, “Ask him again.”  Uh...okay.  “Are you sure?”

        “Yeah.  No.  I wish you were sick.”

        “Why?”

        “You’re healthy, and you have to stay that way, so you have to get up and back away from my germs.  If you were sick, too, I could get comfortable on you.”

        “Oh.  I don’t think it would matter.  I mean, if you’re going to give me germs, you probably already have.  I could stay and you could get comfortable, if you want.”

        “I can’t make you sick.  Go.”  Nick pushed at Nick’s chest.

        “Humor me for five minutes until Drew gets back.  Then I’ll go.”

        “If you get sick, it’s your fault.”

        “Agreed.”

        “Don’t worry.  When I get sick, even Kevin humors me and cosies me up.  Strictly friends.”

        “Kevin?” Nick asked.

        “Don’t let him fool you.  Strict Daddy Kev can be very comforting.”

        Nick found himself in a complicated sharing of personal space.  He wasn’t sure how Nick had maneuvered them into this configuration, but it was very comfortable.  Nick was far too warm, and that thermometer idea was sounding better and better.

        Nick made a somewhat miserable, somewhat contented noise and closed his eyes.

        Nick pretended Jeff wasn’t watching and burrowed in closer.  He let his heart say “I love you” and hoped that Nick heard it.

        “Hey,” Drew said.  “Jeff just left to track down a thermometer.”

        Good idea.  Nick was burning up.  And waking up.  “Bright,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

        Drew lowered the lights.

        “Drew,” Nick said, and he sounded better already.

        “Hey,” Drew said gently, coming over to the bed.  “Mind if I sit?”

        “No, germy,” Nick said.  “Get out.”  He poked Nick.  “You, too.”

        “I got something for you,” Drew said.

        “A miracle cure?”

        Nick knew he should go, but despite the poke, Nick wasn’t letting go of him.  He waited for an opening.

        “Miracle, yes.  Cure, maybe, maybe not.”

        Knock at the door.

        “That’s our signal,” Drew said.  “We have to go.  You stay here with your present, and feel better.  If you need anything-”

        “Go?” Nick asked.  “Holy shit.  The concert.  I’m not-”

        “What are you doing?” Drew asked, pushing Nick back down again.

        “The concert!”

        “It’s our concert, not yours.  You can miss it.”

        “I haven’t missed one since I got here.  I can’t-”

        “Nick, keep your butt in the bed,” Drew said.  “You’re staying here.”

        “I have to go.  I’ll just-”

        “You are staying here,” Drew said firmly.  “You have ginger ale, crackers, comic books, and your present.  You even have something to throw up in.  There’s a phone here.  The front desk has instructions to get you anything you want, as soon as you ask for it.”

        “I want to go to the concert.”

        “You were at the last one, and you’ll be at the next one.  We need you to get better.  All right, time to go.  Let go of my brother.”

        Nick scowled and released Nick.  Nick slid up off of the bed.  “He was comfortable,” Nick muttered.

        “I’m sure he was.  We’ll be back after the show.  Behave yourself.”

        “Back off, I’m germy.”

        Drew kissed Nick anyway, a soft brush of lips to lips.  “I love you.”

        “What’s my famous present?” Nick asked.

        “Joey made something, and JC stole it from him and sent it here to Justin.”

        “I don’t want something Joey made,” Nick said.

        “Try it,” Drew said.  “Can you see the TV?”

        Nick grumbled and looked.

        Drew pushed play.

        Nick breathed.  “Pixie,” he whispered.

         The three of them watched.

        Tears were falling in silence from Nick’s eyes.

        Drew cleared his throat.  “We really have to go.”  He set the remote controls on the bed.  Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, pulled him in for a hug.

        “Drew,” Nick whispered.

        Drew buried his fingers in Nick’s hair as Nick cried on his shoulder.  “Ssshhh.”  He held on as long as he could, then eased away again.  “I have to go.”

        “Right.  Good show,” Nick said, pulling himself together.  “Sing good.  Be sexy.”

        “Thanks,” Drew said.  “I’ll try.”

        “Remember the time Lance fell off the stage?” Justin asked.

        “Remember the time he dropped Chris?” Joey asked.

        “That’s right!” Justin said.

        “I said I was sorry,” Lance said.  “His grip was off.”

        “You’re supposed to flip him, not drop him on his head,” Joey said.

        “His mother dropped him on his head several times before I ever got to him,” Lance said.

        “Remember the time JC fell off the stage?” Joey asked.  “He went flying, skidding, clear off.  Shoop, zoom, crash!”

        “Only JC would work up that much momentum in the first place,” Justin said.

        “Was that the one where you twisted your ankle?” Lance asked JC, having wandered back to the other end of the bus.

        “Yeah,” JC said.  “No.  No, that was the other time.  The first one was more dramatic, but I didn’t hurt myself.  The second one was more ‘crash’ than ‘shoop zoom crash,’ but it hurt more.”

        “You guys fall off the stage, don’t you?” Justin asked Brian.

        “Never,” Brian said.

        “Maybe once or twice,” Howie said.

        “There was the time the rigging broke and we almost dropped Kevin into a mob of screaming, frenzied fans,” Brian said.

        “We did that!” Justin said.  “We almost lost Joey in Chicago that way.”

        “Everyone’s fallen off once,” Brian said.  “Nick’s fallen off more than once.”

        “You’ve fallen off the stage?” Joey asked Howie.

        “Oh, yeah,” Howie said.  “In Berlin?” he asked Brian.  Brian nodded.  “During the Millennium tour.  I almost broke my wrist.”

        “Did you ever fuck up onstage?” Justin asked.

        “Nick tripped himself and landed on his ass during ‘Everybody’ two shows in a row,” Brian said.

        “Your choreography isn’t even that hard,” Joey said.

        “Neither’s ours, and you land on your ass plenty,” Justin said.  Brian laughed.  “I wish you’d seen the time Chris forgot ‘Pop’ and started faking it,” Justin said.  “I don’t know what screwed him over, but he lost it and started doing some half-assed ‘Tearin’ up My Heart’ moves.”

        “Chris forgets the moves a lot,” Joey said.

        “Lance doesn’t know the moves in the first place,” Justin said.

        “Lance knows the moves,” Joey said.  “He can’t do them, but that’s another story.”

        “I can’t imagine working with someone like that,” Howie said.  Cough “Brian” cough.

        “I’m a great dancer,” Brian said, and started an old man’s shuffle.  Justin picked it up with him, and Joey joined in.  Brian got Howie to play, too.

        Chris was watching Howie.  JC was watching Justin.  Lance was standing too close to JC, watching JC’s intense focus, feeling JC’s heat rise, perilously close to touching.  He didn’t know what he wanted to touch first; he only wanted to touch.

        Joey picked up JC all of the time, and Nick picked up Brian fairly often, so when Brian ended up on Joey’s back, no one cared.  “I get first prize for the worst stage fall,” Justin said.

        “Yeah,” Joey said.  “JC gets first prize for the best one.  When he went skidding across the stage, and we all knew he was going to fall right off, it was spectacular.”

        “That really impressed you,” Brian said.

        “It was a sight,” Joey said.

        JC was still watching Justin.  Lance’s hand hovered inches from JC’s back.  He couldn’t imagine any way to brush up against JC’s hard-on without giving himself away and landing in deep shit.

        “Mine wasn’t exciting,” Brian was saying.  “I just got too close to the edge, stopped paying attention, and slipped off.  I didn’t even break anything.”

        “You’re the least dramatic person,” Justin said.  “Ever.”

        Brian smiled.  “Thank you.”

        “Justin wins for most dramatic person,” Joey said.

        “Hey,” Justin said.  “JC is way more dramatic than I am.”

        Lance put his palm flat against JC’s back, lightly.  Tight, slender back.  JC was too skinny, still.  Lance could remember JC’s back naked to his touch.  Bare skin.  The sight of it, the feel of it...  Beautiful under his hands, beautiful under his body...

        Lance was getting ready to grope, and JC was too preoccupied with staring at Justin to be aware of it.  Chris was trying to avoid Howie, but he was not trying to get a front row seat for this drama.  Retreating to his bunk was beginning to sound ideal.  He didn’t want Howie to notice him or pay him any attention, and he didn’t want to watch Lance try to put the moves on JC.

        “AJ’s pretty dramatic,” Brian said.  “But he’s not like either of you.”

        “He’s a Backstreet Boy,” Justin said.  “He gets bonus points for that alone.”

        “We are not more dramatic than you,” Brian said.

        Joey laughed.

        Brian hit the top of Joey’s head.  That was all he had to say about that.

        Lance dropped his hand, stepping back a few inches.

        Thank God.  Chris hoped Lance had regained some common sense.

        “JC’s more dramatic than I am,” Justin said again.

        “You’re the one who screams and cries and attacks people,” Joey said.

        “That doesn’t count,” Justin said.  “Shut up.  He’s the one who overreacts to everything.”

        “Only about you,” Joey said.  “Not about anything else.”

        “If that means JC’s not dramatic, then I’m not, either,” Justin said.

        “AJ might win, then,” Howie said.

        “Probably,” Justin said.

        “AJ should be his own theater drama,” Brian said.

        “Why isn’t 98 Degrees ever dramatic?” Joey asked.

        “I bet they don’t fall off their stage, either,” Howie said.

        “They don’t move around it enough,” Justin said.

        “They probably do fall off of it,” Brian said.  “Have you seen how small it is?”

        JC was staring at Justin like a man obsessed.  He was a man obsessed.  Justin’s every move, every look, every gesture, was memorized, analyzed, and catalogued.  Sometimes when JC did this, he experienced things through Justin.  If Justin was laughing, JC felt good inside.  At other times, Justin’s moods and experiences were things to be more devoured than cherished.  It all depended on JC’s frame of mind.

        Lance took a discreet glance around the bus.  No one was paying him any attention.  Good.  He dropped his gaze to where it had been wanting to go: JC’s dick.  JC was still sporting a hard-on, and Lance still wanted to touch it.

        “Where is Chris?” Justin asked.  “Chris!”

        Chris ducked low, trying to find a quick hiding place.

        “Chris!” Justin shouted.

        “He can’t have gone far,” Brian said.

        “Unless we left him behind,” Joey said.

        “No, he’s here,” Justin said.  “Kirkpatrick!”

        “Let me,” Howie said.

        “He’s not going to scream, is he?” Joey asked Brian.

        “No,” Brian said.  “He doesn’t abuse his power for evil like Chris does.”

        “Chris,” Howie said.

        “That’s it?” Justin asked.  “I could have done that.  I did do that.”

        Reluctant, ashamed, but unable to resist Howie’s lure, Chris joined them.

        Joey shifted Brian’s weight on his back.  “How did that work?”

        “I don’t know,” Brian said.  “Nick doesn’t listen to me that well.”

        “I can do it,” Justin said.

        “No one cares,” Joey said.

        “Hey,” Justin said, hurt.

        “You could whisper JC’s name in a tornado and he’d show up from five states away,” Joey said.

        “So you admit it’s true,” Justin said.

        “And you come trotting every time he calls, too,” Joey said.

        “That is not true,” Justin said.

        “Five bucks,” Joey said.

        “Ten,” Justin said.

        “Can you bet on yourself?” Brian asked.  “Won’t he just throw the bet?”

        “He won’t,” Joey said.  “He can’t.  If JC calls, he’ll go running, even knowing he’ll lose ten bucks over it.”

        “I will not, sucker,” Justin said.  “Chris, what is wrong?”

        “He just realized he’ll never be the cute one,” Joey said.

        “Honey child, we knew that a long time ago,” Justin said.

        Lance wanted to rub his hand up JC’s thigh.  The outside, or the back, to feel the tense muscle.

        “I guess you’re supposed to be the cute one?” Joey asked Justin.

        Justin flashed his teeth.

        “Not bad,” Brian said.  “Nick’s cuter.”

        “Are you serious?” Joey asked.  “Ow!  Ow!”  He dropped Brian.  “Ow.  Am I bleeding?” he asked Chris.

        “I thought you were the cute one,” Justin said to Brian.

        “I thought I was the cute one,” Howie said.

        JC switched, mid-obsession and without warning, from devouring Justin to adoring him.  JC smiled, admiring the way Justin interacted with their friends.

        Lance tried to think up ways to pry JC’s attention away from Justin and onto himself.

        It couldn’t be done.

        It looked like Brian was having fun with the Sink tour.  There was barely any Howie on the tape, but it had been Joey filming, not Chris, so it made sense.

        Maybe AJ and Howie sleeping together hadn’t been the brightest of ideas.  AJ and Kevin sleeping together hadn’t been that great, either.  Maybe AJ should go back to women.  Or stick to Lance.  That would keep Lance off JC’s ass, so it would work out for everybody.  Except Kevin.

        Damn.

        Kevin.

        Nick didn’t feel healthy enough to tackle that subject.

        Joey did a close-up of Chris, since he had little footage of Chris’s mouth closed.  Then he went to Lance and did a slow, slow pan up Lance’s body.

        Justin popped up right behind Joey.  “Take a picture.  It’ll last longer.”  He cracked himself up.

        Joey ignored Justin’s cackling laughter and kept his view trained on Lance.  “Lance.”

        “What?” Lance asked.

        Lance had a good voice.  He didn’t let it drop often enough.  Only when his guard was down.  Then, damn.  “Strip for me.”

        “You wish.”  Lance didn’t move.

        It’d been worth a shot.

        “Maybe later.”

        He had to look like shit, too, but he didn’t have a mirror, so it was unconfirmed.

        He would’ve called AJ or Howie or Kevin if he’d felt like moving.  For the second half of his life, every time he’d been sick they’d been around, so he associated being sick with them looking after him.  Now that he was sick and they weren’t looking after him, he missed them.

        Drew was looking after him.  That felt good.  As soon as he stopped being undead, he’d say thank you.

        Brian was on TV.  Brian was laughing and playing and talking.  Smiling Brian.  Teasing Brian.  The Brian he played with onstage and chased around rooms and tickled.  His best friend.

        Brian was happy.

        If  Brian was happy, Nick was happy.  Shittish and undead, but happy.

        Someone knocked.  “Who is it?” Nick asked.  He coughed and tried again.  “Who is it?”  If it was a lackey, hell no.

        “It’s Jeff.”

        Hey!  “Come in.”  Um, shit, he had to get up and let Jeff in.  Maybe by some miracle, the door-

        -would open on its own.  Wow.  What?

        “Drew gave me his key,” Jeff said, coming in.  “He’s on his way.”

        “God, you look good,” Nick said.  Jeff should have been too masculine to be cute, but he pulled it off anyway.  Jeff could do anything.  “How was the show?”

        “Good,” Jeff said, sitting on the bed, rubbing his leg through the sheets.  “You feeling any better?”

        “This room gets the Pixie Channel,” Nick said.

        Jeff smiled.  “Does it, now.”

        “Do you want to see?  No, you’re not Nick.  Nick would be a regular subscriber if he could.”

        “He would,” Jeff agreed.

        Nick remembered, now that it was too late, that Brian and Jeff weren’t best friends at the moment.  He didn’t know if Jeff was okay with that.

        “I’d like to watch some Pixie Channel with you,” Jeff said.

        Really?  “Drew’s going to be pissed that we’re watching without him.”

        “Then he should hurry up and get in here,” Jeff said.  “Move over.”

        Nick moved over as instructed, and Jeff sat beside him, all casual.  They watched the Pixie Channel.

        “Does Joey always tape this much footage of one person?” Jeff asked.

        “Chris is interesting but not great to look at, and Justin’s not bad to look at but he’s boring.  With Brian, you get the best of both worlds,” Nick explained.

        “I see,” Jeff said.

        “He’s going to do the accent.  Listen,” Nick said.

        Jeff listened.  “I don’t know why you don’t make him do that more often.”

        “Why doesn’t Kevin sound like that?” Justin asked, walking into the room.

        “Hey, Justin J.” Nick said.  “Kevin’s stupid.  What’s up?”

        “Just coming through, making sure you’re all right.  Anything I can get you?” Justin asked.

        “How do you feel?  Can I get you something?  How do you feel?  Are you sure I can’t get you something?” Nick asked.  “The next person who asks anything like that, gets a pillow in the face.”

        “Hey, stop crowding the patient,” Nick said, coming in and moving Justin out of the way.  “How do you feel?  Whoa.”  Nick caught the pillow aimed at his head.  “I take it that means you’re feeling better?”

        “Out,” Nick said.  “Out, out.  Go or I’ll vomit on your shoes.”

        “Good night,” Justin said, pulling Nick along.

        “See you tomorrow,” Nick said on his way out the door.  “Feel better!”

        Jeff stood, kissing Nick’s hair.  “Good night.”

        Nick watched Jeff go.  He really did feel like shit, he hurt all over, everything was too hot or too cold or too bright or too dark or too loud or too quiet; but there was nothing like sharing bed space with Jeff Timmons-Lachey.

        He sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, willing himself not to die.  He wished Drew would hurry up and get back.  Oh, shit, no; he couldn’t wish Drew back, because he’d just have to shove Drew out again.  He wasn’t going to infect Drew.  He’d send Drew to sleep in Justin J.’s room.

        Nick still felt like shit, but bored shit.  Maybe he’d eat something, just for something to do.  Hey, if he threw up afterward, that’d be two things to do.  Great, now he had his evening all planned out.

        The door was opening.  Nick didn’t open his eyes.  If it was Drew, that was good.  If it was a lackey or assassin, that was not good.  But the guys that had just left had worn him out, and he didn’t feel like moving much now.

        It was quiet company.  Not stealthy quiet, just hushed quiet.  It turned off the TV and put the pillow back on the bed.  It moved around the room a little, doing quiet things.  He thought he heard a zipper.  Naked company.

        Behind his closed eyelids, Nick saw the lights go off.

        The naked, quiet company was getting in bed with him, carefully easing up beside him.  Warm, cosy company.

        Too bad it couldn’t stay.

        Nick brought his hand up, ran his fingers across Drew’s cheek, found Drew’s nose, and tweaked it.

        “Ouch!”

        “Get out.  Go sleep in Justin’s room.”

        “Nick-”

        He twisted Drew’s nipple.

        “Ow!  Stop it.  Why?”

        “You can’t stay here with germs.  Go play with the healthy boys until I get better.”

        “I don’t want to leave you alone while you’re sick.”

        “You just did.”

        “That was for the concert.”

        “I don’t want to throw up on you.  I don’t want to make you sick so you’ll throw up on me.”

        “I’m not leaving.”

        “You’re not sleeping with me.”

        “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

        “You can’t sleep on the couch.”

        “Fine.  You sleep on the couch.”

        “I’m sick!”

        “Then let me stay here and take care of you.”

        “How is snoring in my ear taking care of me?”

        “I don’t snore.”

        Nick pulled Drew’s earlobe.

        “Stop that.”

        “Get out.”

        Drew got up.

        “Good.  Hey, don’t take my covers!”

        “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

        “In Justin’s room.”

        “In this room.”

        “Jerk.”

        Drew kissed his cheek and went to the couch.

        Nick watched him lay down and get settled.  It couldn’t be all that uncomfortable.  They’d all slept in worse places.  He didn’t feel guilty.  It was Drew’s fault for not borrowing Justin J.’s bed.

        Chris had been trying his statue impression, sitting on the low tabletop.  He’d thought that if he stayed quiet and immobile, no one would notice him.  Wrong again.  He liked the way Howie was touching him, though.  And he liked that patient, not-quite-worried tone in Howie’s voice.

        “Are you hurt?” Howie asked.

        Any other time, he would have offered himself up for a thorough physical examination by Dr. D., but not right now.

        “Chris.  Everybody falls off the stage.”

        Not in front of Howie.  Not in front of a professional, not in front of the competition, not in front of the one person whose respect mattered most.

        “We all look stupid doing it, we all feel stupid doing it, but we all do it.  The way we all run around onstage, it’s bound to happen.”

        He was supposed to be a professional.  He’d helped design that freaking stage; he was on it every night; he should know its layout, its measurements, at least where the freaking edge was.

        “The fans have a good story to tell.  As long as you’re not hurt, it doesn’t matter.”

        Howie’s hand was on the back of his neck now, rubbing in a way that should have been soothing, or massaging, but was instead kind of arousing.

        “No one laughed at you.”

        He didn’t care about “no one.”  He didn’t care about the fans or the guys or the riggers.  Well, he did, he cared about all of those people; but right now, and in that moment, all he’d cared about was Howie.  He’d never actually thought, not really, that Howie had laughed at him.  Howie wouldn’t have laughed, not literally, because Howie was too nice for that.  But he’d looked stupid and amateurish and ridiculous in front of Howie.  He was used to looking ridiculous.  He acted ridiculous on purpose.  But he’d never wanted Howie to see him that way.  God, not Howie.

        “I fell off the stage during our tour for Millennium,” Howie said.  “I had to cross over to get past AJ, and I cut too close.  I wasn’t paying attention, my foot hit the edge, I didn’t get my balance, and I ended up off the stage, on the floor.  It hurt.  I had half the fans scared for me, and the other half laughing at me.  But I got up, and I went right back into it.  Just like you did, tonight.  That’s all we can do.”  Howie kissed his hair.  “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

        Maybe he’d been feeling sorry for himself for long enough.  Maybe he felt better now.

        Howie ducked in and kissed his mouth.

        Oh, yeah, definitely feeling much better.  Chris opened his mouth to let Howie’s kiss in, closing his eyes, putting his fingers in Howie’s hair.  Much, much better...

        Drew sat up.

        Still asleep.

        Drew got up and went over to the bed.

        Still asleep.

        Drew sat on the edge.  He was hoping that Nick was asleep deeply enough not to wake up for this.  Nick had been sharing a bed for years, though.  With any luck, this would feel just like Brian coming to bed, and Nick wouldn’t notice a thing.  Drew eased himself onto the bed, laying down beside Nick, holding his breath.

        Nick barely moved.

        Good.  Drew let out his breath and carefully inched closer.  Nick was awfully warm.  The sheets had been thrown off.  Was this the same fever, or a new, worse one?  Jeff had mentioned getting a thermometer.  Nick didn’t feel too hot, just too warm.

        Drew had learned, from touring with 98 Degrees, that sometimes it was wise to let people deal with their illness in their own way, and not make them do what was medically best for them.  As long as Nick was merely sick, and not in need of urgent medical care, he’d let Nick handle it as Nick chose.

        It was strange, how good Nick looked.  He wasn’t gray anymore, just flushed with color.  He looked unhappy, but the red in his cheeks, the shine in his eyes...

        Drew ran his hand over Nick’s stomach.  Warm.  He put his hand under Nick’s shirt, on Nick’s skin.  Nick flinched and subsided.

        Drew wondered what Brian would do in this position.  Soothe Nick, pet his hair, call him “sweetheart,” and infuse tender kindness with the right blend of good humor.

        If Kevin knew that being aroused made Nick nauseous, then Nick must have been aroused while sick in the past.  That had to have been Brian’s fault.  Maybe Nick was right about Brian being a pervert.  Why would Brian be in a sexual mood while Nick was sick?

        Just because Nick looked good.

        Just because Nick’s body was warm, skin flushed, eyes bright.

        Just-

        Drew shook his head.  He was not going to contemplate sex with Nick right now.  It was immature.

        “Drew.”

        “Nick?”

        “You can finish feeling me up if you want.”

        “I wasn’t...  I was checking for fever.”

        Nick didn’t say anything, which gave away how awful he felt.  Nick had to be pretty sick not to mention the way Drew’s fingertips had been stroking back and forth over Nick’s skin, half an inch above the waistband of Nick’s underwear.

        He’d been tempted to touch Nick in places it was inappropriate to touch sick people, but he wasn’t going to do it.  He wouldn’t even do it with Nick’s permission, which he now had.  It was wrong to try to take advantage of Nick’s weakened condition.  He’d joined Nick in bed to offer support, not to get his hand down Nick’s pants.

        He did have Nick’s permission.

        No, no, that was sick.  Nick was sick.

        “Checking for fever,” Nick said, eyes closed.  “Ha.”

        Drew smiled.

        “You must be good at playing doctor,” Nick said.  “Go ahead.  Check for fever.”

        He couldn’t.  Nick couldn’t possibly want him to.  It would probably reinforce negative ideas in Nick’s head, which was the last thing Drew wanted.

        “Brian likes to play doctor, too,” Nick said.  “The vomit and the runny nose or whatever don’t get him excited, but he gets turned on by fever.  Pervert.  You should see the way he feels me up.  Then he starts kissing things and licking things.  Big old nasty pervert.”

        “He does?” Drew asked.

        “Yeah.  I’m used to it.  Go ahead.”

        He shouldn’t.

        He really shouldn’t.

        He wouldn’t.

        He could imagine it, Brian drawn by Nick’s heat, running cool hands over hot flesh, pressing soft kisses down Nick’s stomach...

        No.  Nick couldn’t want it.  No one ever felt sexy while being sick.  When Drew was sick, getting laid was not even on his mind.

        But Brian did it.

        He wasn’t Brian.

        He couldn’t ever be Brian.

        Suddenly, Drew missed Brian very, very much.  He closed his eyes tightly and turned his forehead to Nick’s shoulder.

        “What?” Nick asked.

        Drew told himself to calm down.  He should be used to it by now, because he always missed Brian.  He was never around Brian.

        Nick patted his thigh.  “Hey.”

        Drew pushed it all inside again.  “Hey.”  He closed it away and opened his eyes.

        “You okay?”

        “Yeah.  Do-”

        “No, you’re not.  What’s wrong?”

        “I’m fine,” Drew said, because he was.  He was fine.  He was always fine.

        “I’m too sick to read your mind.  I feel like shit.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

        Now Drew felt guilty on top of everything else.  “I’m fine.  Get some sleep.  You shouldn’t be up.”

        “Multiple choice.  Is it me?  Is it Nick?  Is it Jeff?  Is it Justin?  Is it Brian?  Is it your mother?  The Pope?  Richard Nixon?  Brooke Shields?”

        “Brian only let you stay here because he trusted me to take care of you, and I’ve failed him.”

        “I’m not a house plant you forgot to water,” Nick said.  “I got sick.  People get sick.  I get sick when I’m with Brian.  It has nothing to do with you.  Get up and turn on the TV.  We’re going to watch Brian.  It’s good for us.”

        “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

        “So are you.  Go do it.”

        Drew got up and started the tape, then got back into bed with Nick.  He spooned up behind Nick, one arm around Nick, holding Nick’s hand.  He kissed Nick’s hair and they watched Brian.  Nick murmured, “Pixie,” and was asleep minutes later.  Drew kissed Nick’s hair again, and the shell of Nick’s ear, and then the tempting skin of Nick’s neck, before he stopped himself and watched Brian some more.

        Brian wasn’t doing much, just hanging around, talking to Joey, teasing the camera.  Joey caught him working with JC and playing with Justin.  But it didn’t matter what he was doing, because he was Brian.  Brian.  Happy smiles and silly looks and warmth and love and god, not the Donald Duck voice.

        Drew fell asleep with a smile on his face.

        “What?” Justin asked, shuffling the deck.

        “Am I hearing sex noises?” Joey asked.

        “Sounds like foreplay to me,” Brian said.

        Justin listened.  “Yeah.  Go Chris.  Good for him.  I’m tired of being the only one everybody listens to screwing onboard.”  He started dealing.

        “He’s having sex on the bus?” Joey asked.

        “Why not?” Justin asked.

        “Because other people are here,” Joey said.  “I live on this bus.  He can’t have sex where I live.”

        “He lives here, too, and he’s allowed to get some,” Justin said.  “I do it.”

        “That’s different,” Joey said.  “This is Chris.  And Howie.  I don’t want to hear them having sex on my bus.”

        “They’re pretty quiet so far,” Justin said.  “Where are you going?” he asked, as Joey got up.

        “To stop them,” Joey said.

        “Joey, that’s so rude,” Justin said.

        “They’re being rude,” Joey said.

        “If you stop Chris and Howie, you have to stop me and JC,” Justin said.  “I dare you to stop JC.”

        “I can’t be on this bus while they’re doing that,” Joey said.

        “Get out and walk,” Justin said.

        Brian coughed twice and rapped out “shave and a haircut” on the table.

        The “two bits” knocks came from Chris’s bunk, followed by a cough.

        Brian gave Joey a calm smile and picked up his cards.

        Justin looked at Joey.  Joey looked at Justin.

        Silence from Chris’s bunk.

        Joey sat down and picked up his cards.

        A minute later, Howie came out of Chris’s bunk, shirt open, tying back his hair.  He leaned over Brian’s shoulder, hands on the back of Brian’s chair, and whispered in Brian’s ear.

        “There was some concern about noise pollution,” Brian said, keeping his voice low so Chris wouldn’t hear, dropping a card.

        Howie looked at Joey and Justin.

        “Don’t look at me,” Justin said.  “That would be the pot calling the kettle black.”

        Howie looked at Joey.

        “How would you feel if Drew showed up on your bus and you had to live with their sex life?” Joey asked.

        “I’d be fine with that,” Howie said.

        Maybe that wasn’t a good example, since Brian and Nick had sex on the bus anyway, with or without Drew.  “What if Lance had taken up residence on your bus and started screwing AJ right there in AJ’s bunk?”

        “That’s AJ’s business,” Howie said.

        “You wouldn’t care?”

        “I wouldn’t care,” Howie said.

        Screw Backstreet lack-of-ethics.  “I do care,” Joey said.  “We’re used to JC and Justin doing it, but they’ve been doing it for years, and they’re...they’re one of us.  Two of us.  We used to invite girls onto the bus to screw them, but that was a long time ago, and it’s not like that anymore.”

        “This bus is your home, and you have the right to feel comfortable in your home,” Howie said.

        Joey frowned a little.  It was that easy?

        “Do you want me to leave this tour?”

        “What?” Joey asked.

        “Do you want me to leave this tour?”

        Justin kicked him under the table.

        Joey didn’t know what Justin was trying to signal to him.  He looked at Justin; Justin stared at him hard in an attempt to communicate.  He looked at Brian, but Brian was looking at the cards.  He looked at Howie; Howie was waiting for an answer.

        Was he supposed to tell the truth?

        Did it matter what he said?  Even if he said yes, Howie would stay.  There wasn’t a Backstreet Boy on Earth who did what Joey said, no matter how many times he tried to tell them to go to hell.

        He couldn’t say yes, anyway.  Brian would be upset, which would really suck, because he liked Brian a hell of a lot.  Chris would find out and hate him; but it might be worth it, to get Howie to go.

        “Yeah, I do,” Joey said.

        Howie nodded, drawing his hands back from Brian’s chair.  “All right.”  He stepped back and returned to Chris.

        Justin kicked Joey hard.  “You idiot!  You freaking idiot!  Chris is going to kill you!”

        “Ssshhh,” Brian said.  “Chris won’t know.  Unless he overheard something, or we tell him.”

        “Howie’s going to tell him,” Joey said.

        “No,” Brian said.  “Howie’s been doing his best not to cause tension between Chris and the rest of you.  He’ll give Chris an excuse, something about work or his family.”

        “He’s not really going to go,” Joey said.

        “Is he?” Justin asked Brian.

        “Yes,” Brian said.

        “What?” Joey asked.  He didn’t believe it.  That was stupid.  Howie wasn’t going anywhere.

        “He’ll tell Chris that something came up, and he’ll go.”

        “Chris already has Lance telling him Howie’s cheating,” Justin said.  “If Howie takes off now, with Chris trapped here with us-”

        “And with AJ on the loose,” Joey added.

        “-Chris is going to worry the whole time,” Justin said.

        “Howie isn’t cheating,” Brian said.

        “Are you sure?” Joey asked.

        Brian looked directly into his eyes.  “Yes.”

        “If I didn’t believe before, I do now,” Justin said, impressed.

        “Not cheating according to normal terms, or in Backstreet terms?” Joey asked.

        “In his heart, Howie belongs to Chris,” Brian said.  “He believes that fully.  Now that he has lived with the pain of seeing Chris with another man, he understands what pain he has caused Chris.  He doesn’t want Chris ever to feel again what Howie felt that day, and the only way to be sure that that happens is to be completely, strictly, faithful.”

        Justin nodded.  Brian hadn’t exactly said that Howie had been purely faithful in the past, but Brian was saying that as of now, Howie would never cheat again.  It was oddly comforting.

        Gasping, Nick wakened, eyes wide.

        “What’s wrong?” Drew asked.  “Do you feel worse?  Was it a nightmare?”

        Nick waited for his heartbeat to slow down some.  It was only a dream.  It wasn’t real.  It hadn’t happened, it wouldn’t ever happen.

        Drew wiped tears off of Nick’s cheeks with the edge of the bedsheet.

        It had happened, though.  If it had happened once, it might happen again.

        “Nick.  Talk to me,” Drew said.

        “I’m okay,” Nick said.  “It was just a nightmare.”

        “What happened?” Drew asked.

        “Nothing.  Nothing.  I’m okay.  It was stupid.”

        Drew stroked his hair.

        Nick closed his eyes.  Just a dream.

        Drew kissed his forehead.

        Just a dream.

        “Can I help you?” Justin asked, putting his arms around Chris to support Chris’s weight.

        “Hold me,” Chris whispered.  “Hold me.”

        “For how long?” Justin asked.

        “Until he returns.  My love.”  Chris sniffed.  “He’s leaving me!  Oh!”  He recoiled, then threw himself over the bed and moaned.

        “Howie’s going out with Brian?” Justin guessed, hoping it was that simple.

        Chris buried his face in the sheets and whimpered.

        “He’s leaving you for another woman?” Justin guessed.

        Chris sat up and threw a pillow at Justin, then calmed down and got off the bed.  “He’s going back to Orlando and he’s staying there.  Something about his brother and the foundation.  I knew this was going too well.  I knew everything was getting too good.”

        Justin tried to look surprised.  He was surprised.  Howie was leaving?  Because of Joey?  Why did Howie care what Joey thought?  “When is he going?”

        “In the morning.  JC, tell me some of your secret tricks so I can use them on Howie.  I want to give him unforgettable sex so he won’t, uh, forget me.  Unforgettable sex so he won’t forget me?  Unforget-”

        “Forget you?” Justin asked.  “Who could forget you?”

        “Tell me what you want and make it quick so I can go back to him,” Chris said to JC.

        When JC and Chris turned to work, Justin excused himself and hurried down the hall to Chris’s room.  He knocked, and Howie let him in.  “Chris went to see JC,” Howie said.

        “I’m here to see you,” Justin said.  “You’re leaving?”

        “Yes,” Howie said.

        “Why?  You don’t care what Joey thinks.”

        “I don’t,” Howie said.  “Chris does.  Joey has become very open about sexuality.  You and JC, Chris, Lance, he loves you, he supports you, he encourages you, and he’d never say anything negative or hurtful about your sexuality.  If Chris were dating around and bringing guys back to the hotel and screwing them, Joey would be fine with it.  But Joey doesn’t like me, or AJ or Kevin.  When he expresses his hatred for us, it comes out sounding like homophobia.  I don’t want Chris to have to hear that, or think that Joey believes that about him.  When I’m around, Joey expresses it more often.”

        Justin didn’t know what to say to that.  It was all true.  “He likes you a lot more than he used to.”

        “I don’t want to cause any trouble for Chris.  The four of you are for him what the other Boys are to me, and I know what that means.  If my being here is affecting his friendship with Joey and Lance, I’ll go.  Chris and I will be together when the tour’s over.”

        “He doesn’t know why you’re going.  If he knew, he’d tell Joey to go to hell, Joey would get over it, and everything would be okay.”

        “I’m not asking him to make that choice.  Your tour’s ending soon.”

        “Chris has been so happy having you here, it’s freaky.  He loves having you here.  This has to be the best tour of his life.”

        Howie smiled.

        “You should stay.  He wants you to stay.  I want you to stay.”

        “Thank you,” Howie said.

        Justin was still going over that last part in his head.  He did want Howie to stay.  He really did.  Howie made Chris so happy...

        “Don’t tell him why I’m going.”

        “I won’t.”  If the point of Howie’s leaving was to soothe conflict between Chris and Joey, telling Chris that Joey had chased Howie away wouldn’t help.

        The room phone rang.  Howie picked it up.  “Hello?  Okay.”  He hung up.  “What’s your room number?”

        Justin took Howie to his room, where JC and Chris were standing over JC’s keyboard looking at sheet music.  “Look at this,” Chris said.  Howie stood by Chris, reading.  “Do I like this?” Chris asked.

        “Can you play it?” Howie asked JC.

        JC played Chris’s line.

        Howie frowned.

        “Yeah, that has to go,” Chris said.  “Whatever made him frown like that, that’s out.”

        JC smiled.

        “Play it again?” Howie asked.

        JC played it again.

        Howie hummed it, then said, “How about this?” and sang it with a different dip.

        Chris tried it, and Howie did it with him.

        “Do it up an octave,” JC said.

        “Excuse me?” Chris asked.

        “You can do it,” Howie said.

        “I know I can do it, but give me a break,” Chris said.  “A whole freaking octave?”

        “Try it,” Howie encouraged him.

        “Do it with me,” Chris said.

        Justin glanced at Howie.  There was no way Howie could sing that high.

        Chris sang it, and Howie sang with him.

        Okay, maybe Howie could sing that high.

        “Try this,” JC said, and played it with a quick minor twist.

        Chris looked at Howie.  Howie nodded.  They tried it.

        Justin sat on the bed, listening while Chris and Howie worked out Chris’s part.  He’d always liked Chris’s voice, even back when he’d thought it was kind of freaky for a grown man to be able to sound like that.  Now, hearing Chris with Howie, he was impressed.  They sounded great.  He’d never heard anyone sing with Chris up in that high range.  Even JC couldn’t sing way up there.

        Justin loved Joey, but the guy needed to back off.  This shouldn’t be messed with.

        Now he missed Drew, and Nick couldn’t help him through it.  And on top of missing Drew, he also missed Nick.  He wasn’t used to missing Nick.  Even when they’d been broken up, Nick had still been around.  Now Nick was far away from him.

        He’d taken two of Nick’s shirts, but the scent had faded, and now all he smelled was himself.

        He missed the way Nick smelled, and the way Nick talked, and the way Drew smiled, and Nick’s laughter, and Drew’s dimples, and Drew’s common sense, and Nick’s random sense, and all of the shifts of color in Drew’s hazel eyes, and the way Nick shone in sunlight.

        He missed sex.

        He almost understood why AJ and Howie had cheated together, now.  He missed sex, the way Nick moved against him, the way Drew moved under him.  He missed naked, masculine flesh, hands on his body, a tongue in his mouth, a hard cock between his lips and hot seed spilling over his tongue.  His body had urges that love alone couldn’t fulfill.

        He’d never cheat, of course.  He’d never touch another man, or woman.  Whatever lusts he had, he would stifle until he was with Nick and Drew again.

        It was hard to go to bed at night.  The bed was too wide, too cold.  Too lonely.  With or without Drew, Brian had been sharing a bed with Nick on a nightly basis for years.  Without Nick, there was too much space and not enough warmth.

        Brian’s love was strong enough to sustain him, no matter how he longed for Nick and Drew, no matter how much he missed them.  But his flesh was weak.  It needed.

        Maybe his sex life had been too active.  Maybe he had enjoyed Nick’s body too much and too often.  He was used to being able to spend his lusts on Nick’s flesh whenever he wanted.  Nick was uniquely capable of fulfilling his every sexual desire.

        And Drew...in Brian’s dreams he was on his knees in front of Drew, his face pressed to Drew’s groin, Drew’s cock down his throat.  There was nothing like giving Drew head, making Drew whimper and twitch at every flicker of his tongue.  Drew’s cock was so sensitive...and so thick...and so long...

        Brian groaned, rolling over onto his other side.

        He wanted Nick to be here with him, damn it.  Nick should be here.  Nick was supposed to be here.  Nick was always here.  Nick belonged here.  With him.  Wherever he was, that was where Nick belonged.  Wherever Nick was, that was where he belonged.

        And wherever Drew was, that was where he and Nick would go.

        Brian closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.  Soon.  They’d be together soon.  He’d go home, and they’d come home.

        Maybe he should have taken Nick’s advice and brought some sex toys.  But he hadn’t wanted anyone on the *NSYNC tour to run across them accidentally.  Besides, he’d been sure that he wouldn’t need any.  It was only a brief separation, and he was an adult.

        An adult with adult needs.

        He was beginning to see why Drew had been so susceptible to phone sex when he and Nick had called Drew on tour.  If he heard Nick’s voice or Drew’s voice right now, he’d probably get five good cum shots off of “Hello” alone.

        When Nick had called, and he’d taken the phone aside for privacy, and he’d heard sexual sounds of mounting pleasure, he’d known what was happening.  Drew had been taking advantage of Nick.  His Nick.  It must have been new for Drew, to have Nick available like that, and the lure of it must have been intense.  Nick’s love had needs, and Brian had committed himself to taking care of those needs.  Drew wasn’t used to that responsibility, that privilege.

        It was easy, very easy, to fall in love with Nick.  It was also very easy to fall in love with Drew.  Brian’s life had become those descents.

        He missed Nick’s smile.

        He missed the way Drew stood, masculine beauty and grace at confident ease.  Drew’s stance usually looked...assertive.  Sexy.

        Drew stood kind of like his brother stood.

        Brian opened his mouth, teeth catching Nick's lower lip. When Nick's tongue licked into his mouth, he tilted his head for a better angle, left hand fingers curling against the bare skin of Nick's shoulder.

        Brian sighed.  He missed Nick, too.  Not at all the way he missed Nick and Drew, not even close, but he missed Nick nonetheless.  When he spoke with Nick now, it twisted something homesick inside him.  Nick was Drew’s family, and Nick was with Nick and Drew.  He wanted to ask how they were, but he didn’t.  He couldn’t talk to Nick the way he had before, not that familiarly.

        He wanted to know how they were.  What they were wearing and eating.  What they talked about and saw and did.  What was it like for Nick to see Drew on tour?  What was it like for Drew to have Nick there?

        Drew probably didn’t want to have bunk sex, because that wasn’t how Drew’s bus worked; and Nick was probably trying to talk him into it, because making love on the bus was at once intimate and dirty, a Frick-Frack specialty Nick would want to share with Drew.  Had Nick succeeded?

        Brian wanted to stroke Nick’s eyebrows and whisper love.  He missed Nick with every beat of his heart, and he could feel Nick’s heart beating back in counterpoint, missing him.

        Brian wanted to offer himself to Drew’s desires.  There was so much he could give to Drew, if only Drew would take it.  If only Drew would take him.

        Take him.

        He wanted Drew to take him.  He wanted Nick to take him.  He remembered his last night with Nick, and he could still taste Nick’s sweat, Nick’s skin, Nick’s cum.  He’d wanted to savor everything, to be slow and thorough, to make it last before they were apart, even though he’d only expected to be separated from Nick for mere days.  Nick had wanted it hard, so he’d given Nick his teeth, and the sound of Nick’s groan had spiralled deep heat up through Brian’s body.  He’d started to seat himself in Nick, but the hot luxurious clench of Nick’s body had taken him unaware, and his hips had snapped forward, thrusting him deep inside.  There had never been anything like being in Nick, never been anything.  He’d taken Nick twice that night, and something in him had still urged forward for a third, but instead Nick had taken him, entered him and made love to him; and when he closed his physical eyes and opened his inner eye, he could still see it, Nick over him, making love to him, mouth open, face flushed, eyes hot, hips rocking ever forward, taking him and claiming him, burning perfect heat deep inside...

        Brian fucked up into his hand, coming, Nick’s name on his lips.