Pairing: Justin and Nick
Words: bosom; meek; mirror ball; cinnamon
Justin strolled through the set for the music video. Twenty-odd people running around doing God-alone-knew what? Check.
Mirror ball? Check.
MTV crew to film everything being filmed? Check.
Backstreet Boy? Che-- wait a minute. Uncheck. Definite uncheck.
"What the--" he looked at the MTV crew, who were still setting up and hadn't gotten around to assigning someone just to follow him around yet, but weren't completely oblivious to what was going on. "What are you doing here, Carter?"
The lanky blonde grinned at him. "Not going to welcome me with open arms, Timberlake? Where's that famous Southern hospitality?"
"You're thinking of Lance."
"Aww. And here I was hoping you'd be wearing a hoop skirt like a proper Southern belle. You could clutch me to your bosom and say, 'I do declare, Mistuh Carter, you get taller every year.'"
Justin opened his mouth, caught sight of the cameras, and closed it again. "Now you're thinking of Kevin."
"No, I'm fairly sure--"
"Nick!" Chris descended upon them like an avenging angel, and Justin stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning. Chris would drive Nick away. Or humiliate him. Either one worked for him. He wrapped his arms around Nick and pretended to try to pick him up. "My alien love slave! You came!"
"Chris!" Justin hissed. MTV was paying attention now. Justin wasn't sure whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that they seemed to think Chris was comedy gold. Fortunate because they didn't take anything he did seriously, or unfortunate because they were catching this on film and now Justin couldn't give Chris the high sign to get rid of Nick.
Nick grinned at Chris. "How could I miss the chance to see you try to spread your alien propraganda?"
"We have special super-secret tactics to use today too. Look!" Chris pointed up. "A highly reflective mind controlling tool which will refract tiny images of us into people's brains. The tiny part is the genius aspect -- when the images are smaller, they fit easier into people's ears."
"Uh huh."
"Chris, dude, it's just a mirror ball," Justin said. He could make a joke as well as the next guy -- but the next guy was Nick Carter. Didn't Chris see how wrong this was?
"Ah, but that's just it's meek, mild-mannered everyday disguise. It's really an evil tool of our alien overlords. Hey, there's one now!" Chris pointed at JC, emerging from the hands of make-up.
"Yep," Nick agreed. "Definitely looks like an alien to me."
"So, did you bring them?" Chris asked, bouncing on his toes.
Nick rolled his eyes. "I am not going to watch you eat these."
Chris waved his hand. "Yes, you are."
Nick gave him the paper bag. "No, I'm not."
"The Force is strong with you, young one." Chris opened the bag and pulled out the Pixy Stix. "Ooh, cinnamon!"
"It's not cinnamon--"
Chris waved his hand. "It's cinnamon."
"It is not. And mindtricks don't work on me. Only blowjobs."
Justin smiled at the camera. MTV would edit that out. They better fucking edit it out. He really hated Nick Carter.
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