So Justin's it was, because he claimed to like entertaining them, and nobody had any reason not to believe him. And nobody really cared.
Joey had fallen asleep halfway through The Great Escape, after midnight some time, which JC had insisted on watching because he was on some bizarre war movie kick. Nobody had the heart to wake him up, so he monopolized the couch. JC headed home after two, when Chris asked if they could watch Dogma, because Alan Rickman was really sexy in it. JC hated the movie, which they all knew damn well, which might have had something to do with why Chris wanted to watch it so much. Lance fell asleep on Joey not far into the movie, which was around when Chris said,
"This movie's making me horny."
"What the hell," Justin said, and slid off a chair to join Chris on the floor. "It's not even a sexy movie. At all." He smothered a yawn, and added, "Alan Rickman really isn't cool, man."
"Shut up, you," Chris said, and aimed a punch at Justin's shoulder, purposely missing. He grinned. "It always makes me wanna live some crazy-romantic-fucked-up life in Mexico or something. 'Cause, like, nobody'd know who the fuck I am in Mexico, so I'd get away with all sorts of crazy shit."
"What the hell," Justin repeated. "How does Mexico relate to this fucking movie, anyway? And what does any of it have to do with you being horny?" He cast a sidelong glance at Chris. "And most of all, why the hell are you telling me? I don't wanna hear about your trippy fantasies, man."
Chris giggled obscenely. "No, really. Think about it. Loki and whatsisname get to do all this crazy shit because nobody knows who they are. It's be cool if, like, you had all that power and nobody knew about it so you'd just get to abuse it and stuff."
"Chris, shut up." Justin smirked, and absently ran his fingers over Chris' thigh. "You're a freak," he said.
"Yeah," Chris agreed, grinning. "But you like it."
"Mmn," Justin said, because like it he did. He yawned, and instead of replying, he said, "What d'you think of Joey and Lance?"
"Uh?" Chris asked, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "What about them?"
"You think they're gonna hook up, dumbass," Justin clarified, glancing at the sleeping pair, then looking at Chris pointedly.
"Um," Chris said. He swallowed and forced himself to look away from Justin. "Probably," he said after a moment. "They probably already have, just don't wanna admit it."
Justin barked a short laugh. "Yeah, sounds about right." He looked from Chris to the TV and back. "You wanna stop pretending to watch this and go to bed or something?" he asked.
Chris groaned. "You fallin' asleep on me already, Timberlake?"
"Maybe," Justin said, and got up off the floor. "You coming?" he asked, offering his hand to Chris.
Chris made another incoherent noise as he gripped Justin's hand and pulled himself up. He frowned slightly when he felt Justin flinch at his touch, but covered it up by a grin. "Where'm I sleeping?" he asked, and watched Justin turn off the TV.
"I dunno. Probably not the spare room, y'know," Justin said. "Bed's not made, and you wouldn't wanna make me work, would you?"
"'Course not," Chris said, and wandered upstairs, Justin on his heels. When Justin came abreast of him, he felt a light touch at his waist. "So what's it gonna be? Bathtub? Your room? Floor?" he asked with a grin.
"Tough call," Justin said, when they reached his door. "I'd say my room, but it's your choice." He flicked on a light and stripped off his shirt, shrugging.
"Mm," Chris said contemplatively. "I think I'll risk this one," and shucked off his pants. "But only, you know, because you asked so nicely. Though you might regret it, 'cause I'm still horny from that damn movie."
Justin shrugged again, stepping out of his pants. "Meh," he said airily. "You'll get over it," he said, and slipped in between his blue sheets.
"Maybe," Chris said, and leapt onto the bed. "But you're gonna have to move your ass over, or we're not both gonna fit in there." When Justin complied, Chris tossed his own shirt to the floor, and climbed in after Justin.
"Night, man," Justin murmured, and clicked off the light.
"Night," Chris mumbled into the sheets.
Chris didn't move for a long time, but his breathing hadn't slowed, so Justin knew he wasn't yet asleep. Justin himself was restless, turning over, unable to get comfortable. It was maddening, being so close to a boxer-clad Chris, but not being able to touch him. Of course, it had been his idea, but still. Suddenly Chris shifted, and Justin froze.
"J," he said, his voice breathless in Justin's ear, "stop moving."
Justin rolled over, finding himself face-to-face with Chris. "Sorry," he mumbled, and slipped an arm around Chris' waist. "Just... really uncomfortable."
"Oh." Chris shirked a bit at Justin's touch, but draped an arm over him, his palm on the small of Justin's back. "Maybe I should -"
"No," Justin said. He pulled Chris close to him, because it was just getting to be too much to resist, and fit his head into the crook of Chris' neck. "Stay." He felt Chris tense against him as he pressed a kiss into his neck, where it met with his shoulder.
"Justin," he moaned, and slipped his other arm around Justin. "The hell," he said, "I told you I'm horny, just wanna sleep…don't tease."
"Wasn't going to." Justin inhaled deeply, to put Chris' scent to memory, in case he never got this kind of chance again. He hooked a leg around Chris', and realized he hadn't been kidding when he said he was horny: Chris was hard, and his erection was pressed against Justin's thigh. Holy shit. "Chris," he mumbled, and left wet kisses along Chris' neck.
Chris spasmed sharply, and pulled his face away from Justin. "Don't," he gasped out. "J, stop, unless you want me t-"
"I do," Justin said, not waiting for Chris to finish his sentence. "Please," and his lips met Chris' in a crush of wet heat. Chris responded, deepening the kiss. Hands explored backs, necks, arms; legs twined around each other; breathless gasps escaped parted mouths. Justin was first to break away, turned on as he was.
"What," Chris asked lowly. "Why'd you stop."
"We shouldn't -"
"We should," Chris insisted, and brought his mouth to Justin's again. Justin bucked his hips, grinding aching cock to aching cock.
"No," Justin said nevertheless, and pulled out of Chris' embrace. He rolled over, and mentally kicked himself. He wanted Chris and he wanted this, but he didn't want any of it if Chris was just doing it because he was horny. And he had no doubt about that.
"Fuck you," Chris mumbled, after a while. "I should have gone with the bathtub."
When Justin woke up in the morning, Chris was gone. He left a dent in the pillow and his scent lingered in the bed, but no body. When Justin wandered downstairs, Lance and Joey were making out on his couch. His heart sunk.
"I feel like shit," Chris announced, a few days later, when they were leaving the Jive offices, after a meeting.
"How come?" JC asked.
"Um," Chris said, and suddenly didn't feel like explaining himself to anybody, least of all JC. "I'm just not feeling well."
"Oh," JC said, and nobody else commented.
'Not feeling well' was a massive understatement, though. His mind was still reeling after the night he'd spent at Justin's, when he'd warned Justin he was horny, and he'd started something anyway. Something he'd no intention of finishing, and something he didn't finish. He couldn't even believe Justin would do that, because Chris didn't think even he was that inconsiderate. It was stupid, he knew, but it was Justin's fault. And it bothered him immensely.
Because he'd wanted something more to happen. He'd wanted Justin to take it somewhere. He'd wanted Justin. He'd wanted Justin to want him. But Justin didn't want him, and apparently didn't think very highly of him these days. Things hadn't changed between them, which was almost worse than Justin totally ignoring him.
It made him feel worthless, to know that Justin couldn't respect him enough to leave him alone when he asked, or at least finish what he started, if he couldn't do that.
"Yo, man," Joey said, when he, Lance and Justin piled into his car. "What'd you do to Chris?"
"What?" Justin asked, eyeing Joey in the rearview mirror. "I didn't do anything to him."
"He's been acting really weird since that night we all came over," Joey said. "I thought something happened."
"Oh," Justin said hurriedly, "um, no. Of course not."
"So much for endless love," Lance said, and twisted in his seat to grin at Justin.
"What?" Justin asked again, warily.
"Really, Justin," Lance said. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Justin protested.
"Just apologize to him, will you?" Joey said.
Justin sighed, because it looked like a bigger problem than he'd anticipated.
Justin cornered him at the vending machine during break at rehearsal.
"What," Chris asked flatly, because he had little doubt what this was about.
"I wanted to say sorry for last week," Justin said quietly.
"Uh-huh." Chris slipped some coins in the machine, and hit the Sprite button.
"No, really," Justin said. "It was stupid of me, I know."
"Which part," Chris asked as he picked up the can, "Starting it, or not even bothering to finish it?"
Justin swallowed. "Um. The last one." Chris looked at him doubtfully, so he went on. "I shouldn't have. I didn't want to. But. I didn't want to do it if you were only into it because you were horny."
Chris snorted. "I can't believe you," he said, snapping open the can. "I wouldn't do something like that to you if all I wanted was to get off. But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that." He rolled his eyes and took a drink.
"That's not all I wanted," Justin said softly.
"Then I don't know what you want me to say."
"Just…" Justin sighed and looked at the floor. "Just give me another chance not to screw up?"
But Chris wasn't there when he looked up again. Fuck.
Rehearsals got more frequent after that, along with mass club outings. Lance and Joey would all but fuck on the dance floor when they didn't think anyone was watching, and Justin would make JC buy him alcohol so he could forget that Chris was grinding against some girl and not him. JC would tell him to stop making eyes at Chris and shooting daggers at Joey and Lance, but he never listened.
One time, when he got wasted enough, he left JC in exchange for the dance floor. He made his way over to Chris, and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, asking if Chris wanted to find a dark corner, and since Chris wasn't all that sober either, he accepted.
They slipped into a booth near the back of the club, where nobody really gave a fuck about who was doing what. Justin traced lines on Chris' thighs, until Chris grabbed his hands away. Chris kissed his knuckles, and made his way up Justin's bare arm, leaving trails of wet, open-mouthed kisses. When he made it to his neck, he licked Justin under his jaw, just beneath his ear, and Justin shivered. He took Chris' face in his hands, and kissed him. Chris' lips parted when Justin demanded entrance, and the kiss was a frantic meeting of tongues.
"Chris," Justin said when he broke away, eyes darkened with lust, "I want you."
And because he was stupid, Chris believed him.
Justin crawled into Chris' lap, legs straddling his hips. He threaded his fingers through Chris' hair, kissing him alternately gently, then roughly, then somewhere in between, until Chris' head spun. Chris slipped a hand under Justin's shirt, caressing his back as Justin ground his cock into his.
"Justin," he managed to gasp, as Justin whimpered against him, "I need - fuck," and deteriorated into meaningless words as he felt Justin's hands slip into his pants.
"I need you," Justin somehow articulated, and because Chris was stupid, he believed that, too.
When Chris woke up in Justin's bed, he couldn't remember how the fuck he'd gotten there. He remembered the club, he remembered buying drinks for some girl, but it all got hazy once Justin showed up. He remembered Justin's mouth on his, Justin in his lap, Justin writhing against him, but he didn't remember leaving the club.
But he was in Justin's bed, and Justin was still asleep next to him, and there was some noticeable lack of clothing...so something must have happened. He just didn't know what.
Fuck.
Chris seemed to be ignoring him at rehearsal, after having left before Justin woke up. Justin hadn't been expecting it - not really - but he discovered he wasn't really surprised, either, because it had happened the last time, too. Besides, they were both wasted, so he doubted it meant all that much to Chris. He hoped it didn't, anyway. But he couldn't really ask, after all, because Chris was ignoring him.
After rehearsal, Chris left immediately and he heard Joey mutter, "here we go again," but Justin didn't really care. He found Chris in the parking lot outside the studio, doubled over on the hood of his car, sobbing. He wasn't sure that he'd ever seen Chris cry before - not like that.
He rested his hands between Chris' shoulder blades, rubbing in small circles to calm him down. "It's gonna be all right, man," he said, but Chris shoved him off.
"What the fuck, Justin," Chris asked, anger leaking into his voice. "Tell me what I can do to make all this stop, and I'll do it."
Justin blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"
"This," Chris said, waving his hand vaguely. "Tell me what to say to make you stop to make you stop fucking with me. Tell me what to say so I don't believe you when shit like last night happens. And god damn it, tell me what to say so shit like last night never happens again."
"What?" Justin asked weakly. "What happened that you shouldn't believe?"
Chris' eyes darkened, though they still overflowed with tears. "You said you wanted me," he said flatly. "Or needed me. Or both. And I was so stupid I believed it."
Justin felt something inside him churn. "Why do you keep pushing me away?" he said.
"What else am I supposed to do?" Chris asked.
"Believe me."
"No."
Justin sighed and turned away from Chris. He wanted to say, I do want you, but didn't.
Chris couldn't really remember the last time he cried, or why he did it. He thought it might have been when Lance collapsed, because it sounded as good a reason as any, but even that wasn't as painful as this. Then, no one was playing with his heart; no one was screwing around with him even after they said they'd stop. He didn't know why he let Justin do this to him, why he let him affect him so much. He didn't know why he kept letting Justin do this, giving him chances, letting him in. He didn't know why he let any of it happen any more, because it wasn't healthy.
He didn't know why he had to care so damn much about Justin. He didn't know why it couldn't just stop. He didn't know why it had to be him, either, that Justin had to fuck with, but he wished it wasn't.
"Fix it," Lance told him after the second rehearsal in a row had to be cancelled, because Chris didn't show up and wasn't answering his phone.
So Justin drove straight from the studio to Chris' house, and sat in the driveway for a good ten minutes before he got the nerve to get out of the car. He knocked on the door and rang the bell a few times, and he heard Busta barking inside, but he wasn't really expecting Chris to let him in. He opened the door with his spare key, and hoped it was worth it.
He found Chris upstairs, after searching the darkened ground floor, in his bedroom. The room was disheveled, with all the bedclothes torn off from the bed and scattered on the floor. Chris was on the stripped bed, in boxers and a t-shirt, curled around a pillow in a fetal position, not so much crying as he was merely quivering.
"Hey, man," Justin said from the doorway. He stared at Chris in a sort of horrified fascination: a train-wreck sort of situation, but amplified.
If Chris even realized he was there, he didn't say anything.
"Chris?" Justin said, and ventured into the room. He sidestepped stray sheets and sat down on the bed, pulling his feet up with him. "Sit up," he said, and carefully reached out for Chris' shoulder.
"Don't touch me," Chris breathed, and Justin drew back quickly. "What the fuck do you want?" he asked, uncurling himself slowly.
"Um," Justin said, staring at his hands. "I wanted to explain."
"Uh-huh." Chris righted himself, and leaned against the headboard. "Try," he said.
"I wasn't using you, you know," Justin said carefully, then, "I want you. It might not mean anything to you, but I do. Um. It's been a while, now. Longer than this. thing. that's been going on with us."
"Uh-huh," Chris repeated, cocking an eyebrow. He shifted on the bed, eyes trained on Justin, looking decidedly like a cornered animal. "And that's supposed to excuse all the shit you've pulled?"
"Um. It wasn't supposed to, no." Justin sighed. "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable or something. I just...wanted it to mean something to you. I wanted to mean something to you."
"Justin," Chris said tentatively, "you do mean something to me." He let a sharp breath escape his lips, and crawled over to Justin. "It's just," he went on, crossing his legs so his knees touched Justin's, "you always make things a lot more complicated than they should be. You don't make things clear. And saying you didn't want to make me uncomfortable - that's sort of an understatement, don't you think?"
"I - I guess," Justin said softly. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to -?"
"No," Chris said, and leaned forward to touch his lips to Justin's. He cupped Justin's chin as Justin licked tentatively at his lips, and Chris unfolded his legs to straddle him. "I want you to stay," he mumbled against Justin's mouth.
"Will you?" Justin asked, pulling away momentarily.
"Yeah," Chris said, as Justin fit himself between his legs. "'S my house, isn't it."
Justin grinned, and kissed him again. "I meant for good."
"Yeah," Chris repeated, pulling the younger man against him. "That too."
And this time, because he wasn't stupid, and because Chris wasn't loaded, Justin believed him.