Pairing: Joey and Howie
Words: frigid; miaow; asphalt; libretto
Howie knew answering the phone was a bad idea.
This conclusion was not altered by what he heard from the other end of the line.
"Miaow!"
"Shut up, JC!"
He sighed. "I'm not going to cat-sit, Joey."
"Howie. My good friend. Wonderful, kind, sweet Howie."
"No. Justin chewed up an original libretto for Phantom of the Opera, Lance puked on my favorite shirt, and Chris is the reason why I'm not allowed back in my own nightclub. Do you know how humiliating it is to be tossed out of your own nightclub?"
"That wasn't my fault."
"No, it was Chris' fault. And my fault for letting you talk me into catsitting for you. And thus, yes Joey, ultimately your fault for being unable to cope with your own bandmates. When Kevin turned into a Schnauzer, Backstreet handled it ourselves. When Brian had a heart attack, we handled it. When AJ decided it would be fun to lick asphalt, we handled it."
"When Nick called Justin a frigid bitch and slashed his tires, we took care of it though."
"Getting Nick drunk, taking him to a bar and then pantsing him in front of a reporter is not taking care of things."
"So why haven't you hung up yet?"
Howie sighed. "I'll bring the cat toys over. But you're keeping him."
"But I've got a date with Kelly."
"Really." Howie stared at the phone. "You know, tales of your heterosexual lifestyle are not the way to convince me." He hung up, ignoring the sounds still coming through the receiver as he did, then dialed information and got the number of a messenger service. If Joey was lucky, JC would be a normal cat like Justin, who had merely done what cats do, despite having destroyed several of Howie's prized possessions. If Howie was lucky...
There was catnip in the box of cat toys, wasn't there?
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