Pairing: JC and Kevin
Words: hoodlum; slurp; fauna; metaphysics
1. Boy meets boy
"Kevin Richardson. Of the Backstreet Boys." Kevin extended his hand to JC, who shook it.
"Um, yeah. I know," JC said.
"So which one are you?" Kevin smirked at him.
JC dropped it. Kevin knew perfectly well who he was, who they all were. Couldn't avoid it. "The smart one," he said, and walked away.
2. Boy loses boy
The German club was packed people. JC was wearing a tight shirt and dancing. Joey had ocme with him, but had already left with his choice for tonight's entertainment. JC was mostly more interested in dancing than becoming better acquainted with the local fauna, so to speak.
Chris had stayed in; Justin was usually mollified if one of the 'adults' of the group stayed back at the hotel. Lance saw through stuff like that, but was too firmly under his mother's thumb to think about going out. JC worried a little about that sometimes, whether Lance would go wild once he no longer had his mother looking over his shoulder constantly.
JC worried a lot. About the group, about their futures, about Joey's tendency to sleep with anything that expressed an interest in him, about Justin's ability to know what normal was after a life like theirs and whether Justin would even care. About Chris' self-esteem issues and what they would lead him to do to prove himself. About himself and how he needed to be a better songwriter if NSYNC was ever going to make it. He wasn't very good. But he was the musical one, the creative one. He had to come up with something. They were depending on him, and he was letting them all down.
Dancing made him forget, for a while. He hadn't started out his career as a good dancer, but he'd learned to love it, and the way he could lose himself in the sheer physical exertion of it. The other guys thought he was nuts for wanting to go out and dance when they were exhausted from doing multiple shows a day, but the problem was, JC wasn't exhausted enough.
It wasn't enough until he was able to fall into his bed and sleep until made to wake up. He didn't like waking up. It meant another day of worry until he could force himself back into a state where it didn't matter.
Where he could be like this. Nearly oblivious, lost in the rhythm, the warmth of the other bodies pressing close around him, and in the music.
JC was vaguely aware that the body in front of him was male. The man was facing the other direction, but brushing back against JC on every other step. A black leather and vinyl-clad hoodlum, and JC closed his eyes and allowed the contact to continue.
On the dancefloor, it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between normal non-purposeful touching and the deliberate kind. JC was happy with both, as long as it stayed on the dancefloor. Joey's kind of oblivion wasn't his kind of oblivion.
The other body pressed more tightly against his, and JC moved in step with it, dancing against the hoodlum. He liked dancing with other people, liked the momentary connection, the sense of being part of something more than himself. If solitary dancing was enough, he could be doing this in the hotel room. Having a partner, however temporary, was part of the experience.
It jarred him out of his trance when the man turned around and put his hands on JC's hips, pulling him in and thrusting against him. Suggestively. Nothing like the way JC had been dancing with him. Not even an invitation so much as open demonstration of what the other man wanted to be doing to him.
JC's eyes flew open as he took stock of the new situation.
The face grinning down saturninely at him was familiar. Kevin. Richardson, JC added mentally, since he wasn't ever going to forget their first meeting and the way Kevin had deliberately and casually negated JC's importance.
JC didn't try to talk over the music. He edged away from Kevin's grip, letting his expression reflect how little he wanted to be doing this, here, now, with Kevin.
Kevin pulled him closer, and ground his pelvis against JC's letting him feel that Kevin was very hard. Then let go, one hand sliding up from JC's hip, over his stomach and up his chest before dropping it to his side.
It was very clear what Kevin wanted. JC wasn't sure why. With any other person, JC would have said it was simple horniness, compounded with the stress they were all under in their business, doing what they did. That Kevin was like Joey, except he went after men. Too or instead, JC didn't know.
Except Kevin had tried to humiliate them when they first met. And JC sometimes forgave, but he never forgot.
What Kevin wanted now might be very simple -- or it might be to humiliate JC again in other way.
JC turned around and shimmied through the crowd to another part of the dancefloor, away from Kevin, and went back to dancing. He thought that sent a clear message that he didn't want what Kevin was offering. Kevin didn't follow him, and JC went back to seeking his own kind of nirvana.
But his usual form of meditation wasn't working for him anymore. When he tried to lose himself in the sheer mindlessness of movement, thoughts of Kevin kept coming up. What did Kevin want? What did he hope to accomplish by stalking JC? Where had Kevin gone? Was he still watching? Would he approach him gain?
It was disturbing his balance, his peace.
Kevin was a ripple in his metaphysical pond. More than just ripples. Chris was a ripple. Kevin was a violent splash.
JC lasted through that song and another before giving up. It wasn't working. He moved off the dancefloor, bought a beer, and looked for a place to sit down and contemplate whether he was going to be able to do this, or just have to resign himself to a sleepless night.
And then he saw Kevin ensconced in a booth, staring at him hungrily.
JC walked over and sat down. "Why?" he asked simply. The music was less loud here. It was reasonable to expect an answer, and he waited.
Kevin took a suggestive slurp from his long-necked beer bottle.
JC continued to wait. He wasn't the most persuasive member of the group, but he knew how to be patient.
"I thought you were the smart one," Kevin said.
JC held his bottle between his palms, rolling it slightly. He had time. He had patience.
"Look, it's obvious you and I want the same things. You're here, dressed like that, dancing like that."
JC looked at himself. He didn't get it. Looked back at Kevin, who was beginning to glare.
"I want to fuck you. Got it? Or don't you know what that means either?"
"Maybe I'm not interested."
"What are you doing here if you're not looking for sex? I saw the fat one leave with the flavor of the night over an hour ago."
JC was suddenly and completely sure of one of the answers to his questions. Kevin would humiliate him if he said 'yes', and that restored some of his missing peace.
And, no, he wouldn't be finding his usual kind of oblivion tonight, but there were worse things, and staying here was one of them. It would be better to go back to the hotel and see if Chris and Justin were still up; sometimes on nights like this, they would watch movies until both of them fell asleep. JC would rather be there, curled up on the couch next to Justin, Chris sprawled on the floor, than here.
He left.
3. Boy gets girl
Chris pushed the magazine across the table to Lance, who looked at the photo and laughed. "It'll never last. Celebrity relationships have a lifespan of five point two minutes."
JC looked at the photo. The Backstreet Boys at Kevin's wedding, mugging for the camera with the bride. Kevin. Richardson. "It could last. They were supposed to have known each other for years. Before. Like Lance knows Meredith."
"Woohoo!" Chris said, cuffing Lance. "You horndog Bass! You and Meredith."
"She's an artist and a friend. Nothing more." Lance blushed a little, before looking at JC. "You know that."
"I didn't mean it like that. Just... you know Meredith. She trusts you, and you trust her. It's a special relationship. Outside of all this." JC waved his hand to indicate the Quiet Room.
"Yeah," Lance said, nodding.
JC looked at the picture again, at Kevin. He remembered the way Kevin had treated him. He hoped it didn't last, for his wife's sake. Or that Kevin had changed. Because they had all changed, and maybe Backstreet had too.
4. Boy loses girl
Britney broke up with Justin over the telephone, on a Tuesday, before a concert. Justin never knew it was coming. JC knew because he'd woke up on the couch in the Quiet Room and heard Justin talking to her.
"Why, Brit? I don't get it. I thought we were good for each other. Well, yeah. For our careers. I like my career. Don't you like yours? No. I didn't mean it like that. No. But-- yes. But-- c'mon, I meant it. I was romantic. I got you flowers. I sent you roses on your birthday. And on Valentine's Day. And on-- what do you mean that doesn't mean anything? You said you liked flowers. No, I haven't been seeing anybody else. No! Why are you asking me this? Don't you-- Brit. Please. Yeah, I understand you have feelings, but I'm okay with talking about them. Aren't I? Haven't I been good about talking about my feelings with you? Haven't I? You told me to read up on relationships, and I did. You told me-- what? No. C'mon. No. What do you mean, we can still be friends? What's that supposed to mean? Weren't we already friends? Brit... Damnit. Damnit."
The phone hit the wall a few seconds later. Justin kept swearing, and JC sat up.
"Damnit, fuck-- JC. Oh. You're awake."
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"Fine. Just freaking fine. My girlfriend just broke up with me."
"Yeah, I know. I kinda heard." JC watched Justin pace across the room, back and forth, hands flexing like he wanted to break something. "Do you know why?"
"No!"
"So nothing happened."
"No. Nothing happened. I didn't do anything. I didn't cheat on her, even though she seems to think I did. What the fuck is up with that?"
Chris came into the room then, and Justin headed straight for him. JC was glad, because Chris had always been better at handling Justin. JC worried about Justin, but he didn't know how to deal with him or what to say. Chris did.
JC got up and went to find Joey. His emotional barometer had been disturbed. He needed to find a touchstone and restore his serenity.
5. Boy gets boy
In order from them to get a real break, Lance had to go to space.
There was something ironic about that, JC knew, but it wasn't much of a break. Joey was gearing up to tackle Broadway, Justin was starting his long-delayed solo project, with JC's help, which left Chris to deal with the burden of NSYNC's publicity. A busier break than most people's working lives. JC wouldn't trade the existence he knew for one he didn't, but he thought sometimes a forty-hour-work week with the ability to check the job at the door sounded like the easiest thing in the world.
JC discovered shortly after arriving in LA that Justin didn't really need his help, that Justin was more interested in relieving himself of the burden of bachelorhood and titular virginity that his relationship with Britney Spears, Pop Princess, had forced upon him. That didn't appeal to him; he gave his opinions on what Justin had planned and returned to Florida to sail his boat.
Because dancing didn't do it for him anymore. Active meditation had been replaced by inactive, and the motion of waves was hypnotically soothing. And the press of other people, which had been comforting, was only hands clawing at him, wanting things he didn't want to give.
He came back for the charity event in July, of course. Boating was a recreational activity, something he got to do on top of his job, not instead, and JC knew where his priorities lay. NSYNC first, everything else second, or even lower.
After the basketball game, they all got together at Chris' house, except for Lance, who was in Russia and couldn't leave. JC squished himself onto the couch between Joey and Justin while Chris laid on the floor, in firm possession of the remote control.
They'd watched "The Fifth Element" and "The Man Who Knew Too Little" when Chris rolled over and said, "Guys, we've got something to tell you. Me and Justin."
Joey raised his eyebrows, then grinned and lifted his hand. "No kidding? High five, man, that's great."
JC looked at Chris, then at Justin. "Huh? What?"
"They're together," Joey explained. "Good for you, too. Thought you'd never figure it out."
"But you're dating Janet," JC said to Justin, who looked down.
"Um, no. Not really. We kinda went out, yeah, but just like friends, y'know? She's too old for me."
"And I'm not?" Chris kicked him.
"Shut up, Chris. You know what I mean. You're..." Justin made a face. "Not old. Okay?"
"Yeah," Joey said. "Chris is five. Maybe. On a good day."
"Fuckers," Chris said affectionately, then looked at JC. "C'mon, C, don't tell me you have a problem with this."
"Not a problem--" JC began.
"Because we all know about the Kevin thing you had going in Germany, and if anyone in the group has always been gay, it's, well, okay, it's Lance, but you come in a close second. So don't tell me you've got a problem with it."
"With Kevin?"
"Yeah. With Kevin. Richardson. Y'know, the one with the eyebrows?" Chris made a face.
"I know who he is. But we didn't do anything."
"So you're not gay?"
"Gay as in the sense of sleeping with men?"
"Is there another sense?"
JC didn't like the way all three of them were staring at him, like he was some kind of weird science experiment. "Well, then, no. I'm not gay. I haven't slept with any men. Other than you guys. You know. Slept-slept."
"C..."
"I haven't," JC said firmly. "But that doesn't mean I have a problem with you and Justin. I think that it's great that the two of you have gotten together. Just great. Wonderful even. You're like two things that really belong together. Peanut butter and bananas."
He didn't know why Joey snorted and started laughing, but that was okay. Because Justin put his arm around his shoulder, and Chris kicked his ankle, and so his friends were okay with him, and that was what mattered. Because NSYNC came first. Before everything else.
JC leaned against Justin, curling his legs up onto the couch, into Joey, and closed his eyes. He felt calm and comfortable. He thought he could take a nap.
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