It didn't happen all the time, just every so often. They'd get a fan letter that just couldn't be rationalized, not within the limits of human logic, because it was just. too weird. Like the time they'd gotten the letter from the girl flat out asking if Lance was gay, and Lance had laughed so hard he snorted 7Up through his nose.

"Dude. Like, what the hell do they think we're gonna say?" he asked, eyes watering after Joey slapped him repeatedly on the back.

"I think they're looking for a yes," JC said.

"But, but, but!" And Lance dissolved into giggles again.

And then there was the time they got the letter asking if JC's hairstyle required 110 voltage or 220, and JC paled and stalked out of the room, and refused to come in until Justin went out to the hallway and reassured him that his hair wasn't that bad, and did he remember the fans' reactions when he got the cornrows? and see, it's not the end of the world.

But they didn't really compare to the letter they got, typed in Times New Roman, printed on letterhead from what appeared to be a lawfirm in Chicago, that read in its entirety, "Let Chris sing lead on 'Falling' for the On the Line sound track. If you do not, I will be forced to take drastic measures. I will compose a graphic account of Chris and Justin copulating, and then Justin giving birth to Chris's beautiful child. It will be heart-wrenching, and very, very disturbing. Take care that you do not summon my wrath. Sincerely yours, Missi."

Justin spent a good five minutes staring at it, jaw going slack.

"Okay, give it over," Chris said, and plucked the letter out of Justin's hands. "You tryin' to catch flies?"

"I," Justin said, looking up helplessly. "She."

Chris lifted a finger, and read the letter twice before he said anything. "I. Um. Yes," was all.

Justin's eyes were wide. "She's gonna do what? What the fuck, man?" he cried.

Chris grinned, leaning over to pat Justin's knee. "Aw, come on. I think you'd make a great mother."

"Mother?" Justin shrieked, and buried his face in his hands.

"Yo, Lance," Chris said, ignoring Justin. "C'mere."

"What?" Lance asked, poking his head in from the kitchen. "Y'all are insane."

"Justin's pregnant," Chris announced, proudly.

"Shut up!" Justin said, loudly. His voice tended to get even higher pitched and nasal when he was angry. "I'm not!" He threw a withering look at Lance. "He's fucking sick!"

Lance grinned. "Really?" He wandered into the lounge. "So who's the father?"

"Shutupshutupshutup!" Justin said, clamping his hands over his ears. "That's just so. So."

"Me, apparently," Chris said, and passed the letter to Lance. "See?"

Lance sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, and bit down hard to stop from laughing as he read. "Wow, man. Finally getting some action, huh?"

Chris nodded. "Dude. I mean. If I'd known I'm the father of America's heartthrob's son, I'd, like. Dude. I don't even know what I'd do. Think of how I could cash in!"

"Oh, fuck off," Justin muttered.

Lance rolled his eyes, and Chris kicked Justin sharply in the shin. "Aw, come on, Jup. It's just a joke," Chris said.

"It's not funny," Justin said, dejectedly. But it was, a little.

It was even worse when JC and Joey found out about it.

"Dude," Joey said, grabbing Justin's wrist when he reached for a Heineken. "Are you sure that's good for the baby?"

"Fuck off," Justin said, and shrugged Joey off.

"Really, man. When Kelly was pregnant, she, like, couldn't drink anything. 'Cause it all goes to the baby, y'know." It was something of a feat for Joey to keep a straight face, Justin thought. "It'll, like, stunt its growth and stuff and it'll come out all deformed."

Justin blinked at him, wrinkling his brow. "How the fuck do you know this shit?" he asked, and drank the beer anyway.

"Um. Brianna? I kinda have to be up on it." Joey frowned at him. "And, y'know. I'm just worrying for your kid."

"Shut up!" Justin said, and stomped away.

"I think he's mood swinging," Lance said. He was on the couch on the bus, talking to the window rather than to Chris, eating peanut M&Ms. "Have you noticed?"

Chris stared at him, pointedly. He shifted a little uncomfortably. "Um," he said. "Maybe."

"'Cause, y'know. It's, like, a side effect and all."

Chris squinted at him. "How the hell do you know?"

"Joey," Lance said simply, and Justin came in from the bunk area, scratching his stomach under his wifebeater. "Hey, Jup. M&M?"

"Whaa?" Justin asked. His eyes were slitted against the light, even though it was well after sunset.

"M&M?" Lance repeated.

"Huh?" Justin asked, and slumped onto the other couch, next to Chris.

"Never mind," Lance said, and tossed a red one into the air, and caught it in his mouth. "Oh," he said, to Chris. "Weird sleeping patterns, too."

"Right," Chris grunted.

"What're you talkin' about?" Justin asked.

"Nothing, honey," Lance cooed.

"You think he's getting fat?" JC asked, when they were changing after a show. "I mean." He gestured vaguely at Justin's midsection.

"Shut the fuck up, C," Justin snapped, and pulled a sweatshirt over his head.

"I dunno," Lance said, and tapped his knuckles against Justin's stomach, which was just as hard as usual, ignoring the clothing. "It feels kinda like it."

"Let me see," Joey said, and knelt down, putting his ear to Justin's abdomen. "Hey, I think I can hear --"

Justin cuffed him.

And just when Justin thought it was dying down, Joey tossed a book onto his bunk, entitled 'Maternity'. Or, he assumed it was Joey.

"What was that about?" he asked, when they got off the buses for a pitstop.

"Huh?" Joey asked.

"The book, you fuck."

Joey grinned. "Oh, yeah. I thought you might be interested."

Justin shot him a tired look. "Joey. Can I tell you a secret?" He leaned over, put his lips next to Joey's ear. "I'm. Not. Pregnant," he said, loudly.

"It's okay," Joey said, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Fuck you."

JC was the worst, though, after he switched buses with Lance. He had a habit of wandering in and out of the lounge, staring at Chris and Justin, opening his mouth as if to say something, and never did.

"Okay, what?" Justin asked, finally.

"Do your nipples hurt?" JC blurted out.

"What?"

JC made an abortive gesture. "Your nipples," he repeated.

"My nipples?! Why the fuck would my fucking nipples hurt?!" Justin shrieked.

Chris nudged Justin sharply in the ribs, pausing the video game. "Dude. Not in my ear, please."

JC looked embarrassed. "Because. Um."

"Lactating," Chris said, after a pause, and Justin stared at him.

"Lactating?" Justin repeated, incredulous.

"Yes," JC said. "Yes. Because...yes."

"For our kid, Jup," Chris said, and unpaused the game. "Remember?"

"Fuck you," Justin said, and as he hurried out, Chris thought the worst part was that he looked like he was going to cry.

When they got to the hotel, Justin's eyes were puffy and red when he touched each of their elbows individually, telling them, "my room after we check in, 'kay?" And all the fight was gone from his voice.

"You're pissing me off," he was telling Joey, when Chris got there.

"Dude, it's a joke," Joey said.

JC looked at Joey, a crease forming between his eyebrows, puzzled. "It is?" he asked.

"Oh, man," Lance crowed, and burst out laughing.

"Just stop," Justin said, quietly.

"But it's funny," Lance said, gasping for air.

"It's not," Chris interjected, and leaned against the doorframe.

"Ooh," Lance said. "Protectin' your boyfriend, huh?"

"Lance," Justin said. "It's. It's not. Just. Fuck. You. I'm not fucking pregnant, and it's not fucking funny any more."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. You could've said something before."

"I did," Justin said.

"I thought --" JC started.

Joey pressed his palm against JC's spine. "It was a joke, C. The letter?"

"Oh," JC said.

"Yeah," Joey said, and got up, pulling JC with him. "'Kay, fine. I'll stop. You hafta admit, though, J. It was funny."

"Shut the fuck up," Justin said, and his shoulders were slouched.

After they filed out, Chris slid onto the bed next to Justin. "It was, though," he murmured in Justin's ear.

"Stop," Justin said, sharply. He wouldn't meet Chris's eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, J," Chris said. He put his hand on Justin's spine, between his shoulder blades, rubbing in small circles. "It was, for a bit."

Justin tried to shrug him away, but Chris didn't move. "'S 'cause it wasn't you," he mumbled. "They weren't making fun of you, 'cause you'd supposedly gotten knocked up by your best friend."

"Dude," Chris said, and Justin could hear the smile in his voice, "you do realize how fucking stupid and funny that sounds, don't you?"

Justin barely cracked a smile.

"Oh, come on, Justin," Chris said, and let his hand slide down Justin's back to curl around his waist. His hand was warm, too warm, through Justin's t-shirt.

"I, no. Chris, stop," Justin said. "Just leave me alone."

"Okay, fine. I'll do it right," Chris said. "The comfort thing right," he added, and pulled Justin into a hug. "It was just a stupid letter and a stupid joke. I was part of it too, y'know. It's not that bad."

"Yeah," Justin mumbled. His voice was thick.

"I'll try to get you knocked up, if it'll make you feel any better," Chris said.

"I." Justin paused, and pulled away. When he looked at Chris, he was beaming. "Yeah," he repeated, and closed his eyes as Chris cupped his chin, and leaned in to kiss him.

And it actually was pretty funny.