"Dude," JC laughed, as he pushed open the door of the recording studio and blinked as the low, slanting rays of the setting sun half-blinded him. "That was, like, years ago. You were twelve."

"Yeah, and now I'm twenty-one, and hey, look at that, I'm even legal. No worries about buying me drinks."

"Justin," JC sighed, with a vague wave back at the building. "Man, we just finished." He knew Justin understood that it wasn't recording a single song that had him so wiped out.

"I know," Justin said. "It's just. I still don't know anything about the contract for sure, and, God, I love my mom, but she's being all understanding," he made air quotes, "and the next thing I know she'll be telling me all these reasons why it's for the best if the solo thing doesn't work out and I don't know if I can take a whole day of that."

How JC kept a straight face, he didn't know; Lynn had indeed been the epitome of the sympathetic mother and he fully understood Justin's desire to run away from home--not that Justin necessarily had to know that. JC was going to give in--it wasn't like he had stuff to do, not now--but he had to at least put up a token show. "Security, J."

"I got it covered," Justin said quickly. "Tiny's gonna come with us. He's been on the phone with their people all day."

JC frowned. "Tiny's supposed to be on vacation tomorrow." Like the rest of us, he wanted to add, even if an open-ended vacation was proving impossible to wrap his brain around.

"I know, but he's, like taking pity on me. He heard Mom all day yesterday," Justin grinned. "He's already rearranged things to do it."

JC looked at him for a long time, but there was nothing he could see of Justin working a con, only a steady eager gaze.

JC was going to regret this, he knew he would, but no one was immune to the Timberlake charm, not when it was sincere. "Okay," he sighed, with a final fleeting farewell to his--admittedly slack--plan of sleeping through the entire next day.

"Okay? Really? Cool!" Justin's face lit up, and it was impossible for JC to remember why he'd thought it was a bad idea in the first place.

*

His memory came back with a vengeance the next day, immediately after Justin let himself into JC's house, walked into his bedroom, and ripped all the covers off him, all before nine o'clock. In the morning. He was absolutely unmoved by JC's abject begging for even five more minutes, heartlessly prying JC's fingers off the headboard of his brass bed and dragging him into the shower.

The cold shower. The fucking freezing shower, so goddamned frigid JC could barely breathe, much less damn Justin to the hell he deserved. Especially since the obnoxious prick was having fun keeping JC from the hot water tap, at least until JC managed to pull him under the icy spray. It was completely worth the elbow JC took to the ribs.

"Fucker," Justin gasped, breaking free. "You got me all wet."

"Ass." JC shoved him out of the stall and turned on the hot water. "Go find me some coffee."

Justin said, "Five minutes, man, and then I'm turning off the water, and I don't care if you've still got shampoo in the pretty hair. Five minutes."

"Coffee," JC growled. He stripped off his soaked boxers and threw them at Justin before he slammed the shower door shut.

"Freak," Justin yelled back, and stomped out of the bathroom, muttering about dry clothes and delayed schedules. All JC knew was that if Justin wasn't standing out there with a coffee in his hand by the time JC finished, there was going to be hell to pay. He was counting on Justin having known him long enough to know that.

Then again, JC had known Justin long enough to know that he would turn the fucking water off, at the exact second his time expired, and there was no way in hell JC was going to be walking around DisneyFuckingWorld half-washed. He shook the water out of his eyes, reached for the shampoo, and got to work.

*

Justin's coffee sucked. Given that he'd had grown up drinking the sludge Chris preferred on a regular basis, JC was normally inclined to give him a break and let it slide. This morning though, he demanded an emergency caffeine stop, which resulted in a near fistfight when Justin refused to let JC out of the car or let Tiny detour to find a Starbuck's with a drive-through. JC was pissed enough to not let him use Tiny as an errand boy, too. Tiny, like the smart man he was, refused to get involved.

Finally, after making JC pinkie swear to not unbuckle his seatbelt and reminding him that Tiny was watching, so he wouldn't be able to escape, Justin agreed to go inside and bring the order out. Watching Justin struggle with a grande espresso macchiatto (JC's), a venti caffe au lait (Tiny), his own caffe americano, several bags of pastries, all while trying to avoid notice in a shop full of high school girls went a long way toward alleviating JC's homicidal urges, and when Justin offered JC a bite of his blueberry scone, JC felt peace and harmony restored in his soul.

*

"Ok, man," Justin said, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt to cover the cross tattoo. "How do we do this?"

JC pulled his sunglasses down his nose and peered over them. "What do you mean, how do we do this? Every time we hit a country, we drink. It's a fairly simple concept, J."

"Well, yeah, but, like, where do we start?" Justin was nearly bouncing.

JC rolled his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"I just want to do it right, okay?"

"Justin. It's called Drinking Around the World. It's not rocket science." JC grabbed a bucket hat while Tiny rumbled a soft laugh. "Let's go get it over with."

"No, that's okay." Justin was suddenly subdued. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to."

JC stared. "What is up with you?"

"Really, man. We don't have to do this if it's such a fucking chore. Tiny'll take you home." Justin wasn't playing him, JC realized with surprise. His feelings were actually hurt. "Sorry I dragged you out of bed."

JC pulled himself together. "C'mon, J, it's okay. I'm always a bitch in the morning; you should know that." Justin shrugged. JC thought hard, struggling to remember the trips he and Dale and Tony had made, what they'd done, and, more importantly, what they'd said they'd done when they'd gotten back to the set. "We always started in Mexico, but not for any real reason."

Justin looked up and smiled. "Hey, it's a tradition. Mexico, it is."

JC nodded and deliberately didn't think about how much he was going to miss seeing that smile on a daily basis.

*

"Dude," Justin choked. "What the fuck is this stuff?" He pried the top off the Styrofoam cup JC had given him and peered at it suspiciously. "I'm gonna puke."

"Watermelon juice," JC said, sipping happily. "They don't always have it, but, man, it's like, a powerhouse of good stuff. Lycopene and betacarotene." Justin was staring at him as if he were insane. JC lowered his voice. "No shit, man. Good for preventing prostate cancer."

"You are too weird for words, Chasez." Justin tried to drop the cup in a trashcan but JC blocked him.

"Nuh uh, baby," JC said. "You wanted to do the drink around the world thing, you have to take the bad with the good."

"Alcohol, freak. I signed up for the booze cruise, not the macrobiotic diet. Don't even try to tell me that you lushes drank this shit back in the day. I was twelve, not stupid."

JC ignored the whining because a group of men and women carrying drums and gourds had walked out from behind the pyramid that was the Mexican pavilion. Between the drums and the golden costumes and the feathered headdresses and the flash of silvered bells on the wrists and ankles of the women as they danced, Justin would have had to have set himself on fire for JC to notice.

JC's body itched to follow the rhythm of the drums, and when he looked up, Justin's hips were moving subtly to the beat, just enough for JC to notice that the jeans Justin had found to replace the ones that had gotten soaked in the shower were a tiny bit too big. JC thought he remembered Justin paying an outrageous sum of money for them at a painfully trendy boutique on Rodeo Drive when he'd been staying with JC in LA right before they started rehearsals for PopOd. They were a little worn now, soft and faded over the ass and thighs, and Justin was wearing them low, low enough for JC to feel fairly certain that he hadn't bothered to find dry underwear to replace whatever had gotten wet.

The watermelon juice was suddenly inadequate; JC needed a drink with serious amounts of alcohol in it. "C'mon, J," he said, unable to resist the urge to slide his index finger through a belt loop and tug Justin down the path. Tiny was keeping back--there in case they needed him, but not hovering--and so far, no one had noticed them. JC was sure that wouldn't last long, so he decided to enjoy the relative calm of the late morning. The weather was cooperating; it was central Florida at it's best. Warm but not hot, and the sun danced off the water of the big lagoon. JC finished his watermelon juice and handed the empty cup to Justin for the three-point attempt and the subsequent mini-celebration when Justin rang the trashcan.

"What's next?" Justin asked.

JC tried to remember the map but finally threw his hands out. "Don't remember, dude. But whatever it is, we're up for it, right?"

"No more fucking juice?"

JC rolled his eyes and shook his head, crossing his heart for good measure.

"Okay, then. I'm up for whatever."

*

"Holy shit, C. That's fucking gross."

JC resisted the urge to open his mouth and display the half-chewed scrambled egg and smoked salmon sandwich. He chased the bite with a long swallow of Rignes. "For God's sake, Justin, what now?"

"It's just," Justin waved helplessly at the food spread out on the floor of the little church-like building. It was quiet and cool, and Tiny had been really happy that no one could see them if they sat on the floor. "Eggs and that fish stuff and beer?"

"As opposed to waffles and jam and beer?" JC answered, looking at Justin's portion of their impromptu picnic. "And it's smoked salmon, dork."

"It's fish. For breakfast." Justin made a gagging noise.

JC raised his plastic cup and squinted at it thoughtfully. "We're just starting, dude. If we don't eat while we drink, the Enquirer's gonna be printing pictures of us face down in some Mickey Mouse topiary. This is a serious amount of alcohol we're talking about here."

Justin finished the last bite of the waffles, licking the powdered sugar off his fingers with what JC thought was excessive thoroughness, but then, Justin always had been weird about stuff getting on him. "Yeah, I get that; it's just your choice of food that I'm questioning."

"Alert the media," JC said, dryly. "We disagree about food. Seven years of fighting over what goes into the bus refrigerator and you hadn't figured that out yet?"

Justin made some wordless noise that JC translated as a grudging agreement. JC looked at the entertainment schedule he'd snagged from the bakery counter. "C'mon, man, let's go see if we can catch the acrobats in China. It gets a little boring if you just drink all day."

Justin stood up and stretched. "Think we'll make it to the fireworks tonight?"

JC tore his eyes away from the strip of skin between Justin's shirt and his jeans and gathered up their trash. "You tell me," he said, proud of himself for not getting distracted. "I'm always hearing about how hard you and Chris party. This is the acid test."

Justin grinned. "C'mon, then. Let's see how long you stay vertical, spazzboy."

JC dumped the trash and pushed Justin out the door. "Keep it up, J, and I'll be the one selling pictures to the Enquirer."

*

It was in Japan that Justin finally admitted to himself that this entire idea might have been the stupidest thing he'd ever insisted upon doing. He should have known right from the start, right when he'd been a little too distracted by JC getting naked in front of him to dodge the wet underwear, but he'd let himself be sidetracked by the odd food habits. Watermelon juice and the eggs-fish-beer breakfast had nothing on the red bean ice cream and beer from China. But with each new drink JC had relaxed more and more, and gotten more and more touchy-feely, until, somewhere around the Budweiser and chicken fingers they'd gotten in the US pavilion and eaten by the lagoon, he'd apparently forgiven Justin for the sin of waking him before noon and had draped a friendly arm around Justin's shoulders.

If anyone had asked Justin what would have made him happy, a laid-back, goofball day with JC would have been right at the top of the list. At least, that's what Justin would have said before the day started. But now, as he watched JC finish off a sno-cone thing from the little cart next to the Japanese temple, he couldn't stop wondering exactly how sweet it would make JC's mouth taste, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling JC into a deserted garden to find out. For a brief second, he blamed it on the sake they'd had, but then he realized he had to stop hiding and face it.

His mom always told him that he could do anything he set his mind to. Then, she'd sigh and tell him to be careful, and to truly think about what he wanted, because that was both a blessing and a curse. Justin had never really understood what she was saying, not until right at that moment, but now he wished he'd never insisted he and JC do this. All he thought he'd wanted to do was hang out and be distracted while he waited for Johnny to call him with the final offer from Jive.

Whatever happened, it felt like the next part of his life was beginning, and he'd wanted one last day before the hiatus really started in his mind. Golfing or taking one of his bikes out would have left him too much time to think. Laying down the track for the Disney CD had brought back a million memories of working on the backlot at MGM, and the ancient promise, the one Justin knew JC had made just to get his twelve-year-old self off JC's back had seemed like the perfect way to kill a day.

Now, he'd be lucky if this didn't end with JC never wanting to be in the same city with him again. There had been a lot of stuff he'd been figuring out since the thing-with-Brit-that-he-wasn't-thinking-about, and part of that had included acknowledging that it wasn't just pretty blond girls who turned him on, that those few hurried, fumbling sessions in dark corners of dark rooms weren't just a thing, a phase. They were real; they were a part of him he needed to understand. All of the thinking he'd been doing had been purely academic though, because right now, watching JC lick the last drops of his sno-cone off his hands, Justin knew the Playmate of the Year could walk past and he'd never notice a thing.

They'd found a map and Tiny had donated a pen, and now JC was carefully marking down what they'd done. At least, that's what he said he was doing, but Justin was at that stage when the world was in soft focus and his own handwriting, only remotely legible at the best of times, would have been nothing more than random scratches on the page. He didn't think JC's could be much better. But JC was concentrating hard, and consulting with Tiny, and, judging by the pleased look on his face, evidently creating a masterpiece.

"Tiny's gonna sign this, as an impartial third party, and then the next time I see Tony, we'll get the drunk rodent," JC said with great satisfaction, and then laughed at the confusion Justin's face. "You know, that ugly-ass Mickey Mouse thing Keri had in her dressing room?"

Justin nodded, even though he--one of the obnoxious younger brats--wasn't technically ever supposed to have been near any of the older girls' dressing rooms, and he wouldn't put it past Keri to come hunt him down even now if she found out he'd actually stepped inside her door while she wasn't there. Something told him that blaming it on Matt wouldn't do him a bit of good, even if it was the truth, and it didn't matter that he was nearly a foot taller and probably weighed twice as much as she did, she'd kick his ass but good.

"Well, what we never told anyone is that we got that for her the first time we did this, and then whoever managed to finish a full circuit got to hold the damn mouse for a month. It's like a badge of honor, dude." JC was all wound up; he was waving his arms by the end. Tiny ducked them with the ease of long practice and plucked his pen out of JC's hands before anyone was stabbed. "So, we hafta get this all written down before we get so blasted we can't remember."

Justin nodded again, even though he kind of thought they were already at that point, because learning not to argue with a drunk, excited JC was Lesson Number One in the NSYNC game of life. He'd learned that even before NSYNC existed, and had taught it to Lance the third week they'd all been together in Orlando.

"Right," JC said. "So, dude, this is completely my fault, but we're going to have to go back to Mexico because that watermelon stuff was totally virgin. But we had Rignes in Norway, and Tsingtao in China, and then in Germany it was Beck's--"

"Dark," Justin said. "Beck's Dark, not that light crap, we went for the serious beer."

"Got it," JC said, and looked a little confused at about not having a pen. "Um. You remember that, okay? Anyway, the map says Italy's next."

"Yeah, you were having fun with the marble people, remember?" Privately, Justin thought the living statues were creepy, but JC had joyfully posed with them, until a crowd had started to gather and Tiny had come up from where he'd been keeping himself on the sidelines, and he'd reluctantly left before their cover was blown.

"Yeah," JC said, smiling. "And then we had Asti Spumante." Buying an entire bottle probably hadn't been the best idea, but the restaurant had been really nice about finding them a table way back in the corner, and JC had been happy with the bubbles, and it had been so easy to drink the whole thing. Standing up afterwards was an entirely different story, but it was worth it, Justin decided, just to cheer JC up again.

Tiny took the map and turned Justin around to use his back as a desk. JC leaned close to peer at what Tiny was writing and Justin gritted his teeth with the effort of not pressing back and closing the rest of the gap between himself and JC.

"And then it was America," JC said, his breath warm on Justin's neck. "And Bud, because they were out of Sam Adams."

Tiny grunted and wrote something more, and Justin had never been in so much trouble, because JC was leaning on him now, pointing things out on the map, which meant his skin was two thinthinthin layers of cloth and one sheet of paper away from Justin's skin, and Justin couldn't make himself stop imagining what it would feel like with no layers between them at all. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In, out, from the diaphragm, imagined Robin was in front of him, telling him to stop goofing off and pay attention.

"J!" Justin was so deep inside his head that it took him a second to realize JC had been calling him, more than once. "C'mon, man, Morocco awaits." Justin let himself be tugged by the hand down the sidewalk. "Do you think we could find a bellydancer?"

*

Drunk, Justin thought. DrunkDrunkerDrunkest. Or was it drunk, more drunk, most drunk? Whichever way was proper, he decided, he was wasted. Like, sold-a-million-albums-in-a-day-take-that-you-fucking-TransCon-assholes-release-party wasted. Beyond even that level, maybe. He was so far gone, it wasn't even bothering him that JC hadn't stopped touching him for two whole countries.

Ever since they had that flight of wine--and that was really an honest mistake on Justin's part, because who knew a flight meant three fucking glasses? Whatever, ever since France, it seemed like JC always had a hand somewhere on Justin. Little brushes on his arm or shoulder or back, and after the half-yard of Bass from the pub and the parade with the freaky-as-shit shadow puppet things, Justin had given up pretending to himself that he didn't notice or care and started touching right back. Within reason, of course. He wasn't totally insane.

His mom was right, Justin could do anything he set his mind to, and right now that was getting in as many friendly touches as he could but not anything more. He was definitely not shoving JC into the back part of the garden, past where Mary Poppins had been holding court, past where the band in kilts and Docs was setting up, right back into the darkest corner of the little maze, and seeing how much of him Justin could really touch before JC froze him out. As much as Justin wanted to see if the skin on the small of JC's back felt as smooth as it looked, he didn't want JC upset with him. There was nothing worse than an offended JC, not even Justin's momma when she was in a state. Justin was putting his mind to finishing the night without drama, and that was how it was going to play out.

Except, JC didn't seem to be with the program. In fact, he didn't seem to be with Justin at all, and that was a very not good thing. He'd been right there, right behind Justin not ten seconds ago, and now he was gone and from the look on Tiny's face, it wasn't just that Justin was too blind drunk to see him; it was that he wasn't around anywhere.

It had gotten dark at some point--Justin thought he remembered it being light when they got the yard of beer, but that apparently had been a while ago--and the crowds were suddenly larger, and pressing toward the water-front bench they'd been sitting on. The nightly fireworks thing, he supposed. There were lights of course, streetlights, and well-lit buildings, but it was strangely hard to see faces in the crowd, like looking out from a stage and trying to see a person rather than a mob.

Tiny grabbed Justin's upper arm, the grip that all of Sexual Chocolate used when things weren't just everyday, when they were about to bull their way through a crowd, the grip that meant listen up, pay attention, we're not kidding around here. He said, "You're not moving from this spot, not until I come back for you." Justin opened his mouth to argue that two could cover more ground than one, but Tiny shook him a little, and growled under the noise of the band and the crowd. "No. You're staying right here," he pushed Justin back down on the bench, "you're looking at the water, you're not taking your hat off, and you're not calling attention to yourself. Real deal, Justin, or I take the time to get you someplace not public."

Right as Justin told himself to grow up and stop making the man's job harder, he heard a familiar yowl, and spun around to see JC on stage, hat off and hair flying, back to back with guy in a red kilt and Doc Martens, rocking out to his guitar and another guy's bagpipes. Tiny swore and started for the stage, but Justin was frozen to the spot, mesmerized, at least until JC danced off with a little shimmy of his hips to hang out with the bass player. That, Justin decided, with an outraged fervor, was quite enough. That little move belonged to him, that was how JC danced up on him whenever they were out at a club, and no guy in a fucking skirt was getting what belonged to Justin Randall Timberlake. Nosir.

Justin slipped and slid through the crowd, drafting off the back edge of Tiny's wake, until they reached the side of the low stage. JC was oblivious, completely wrapped up in the music, sharing the microphone with the lead guitarist and making up harmonies to Twist and Shout. The crowd loved it, but where Justin had his hand on Tiny's back, it was tense and hard, and when the song ended and Justin heard the first "JC!" Tiny was already moving, dragging Justin along with him and snagging JC as he stepped off stage.

It was three steps around to the back of the stage, and then only a few more and they were outside the public part of the park, Tiny flashing a badge whenever someone approached them. Justin was deeply impressed that Tiny knew where the cast member entrance was. He wasn't even sure if he could find the actual main entrance at this point, but here they were, on the other side, the side that nobody got to see, twisting and turning until Tiny pushed them into a small dressing room and growled, "Stay."

The door closed behind him and they were safe, but the adrenaline was pounding through Justin, worse even than the last few seconds before a performance. He never broke stride, just grabbed JC by both arms and kept walking until he had JC up against the wall. JC didn't resist, and that was how Justin knew he didn't realize what was going on. He couldn't have; he never reacted, not even when Justin leaned in close, right before kissing him hard.

In the half-second before his mouth made contact, Justin was secure in the knowledge that he was going to be able to blame all of this on the booze. He would grovel when he apologized, do whatever it took so JC wouldn't hate him for the rest of their lives, and hopefully, it would all be worked out in a couple of months, but there was no way he was stopping now. Then JC wrapped his arms around Justin's waist, arching up hard into him and every last bit of higher brain function was gone, lost in the shocklustneed of JC's mouth opening under his.

It was hot, so fucking hot to lick deep into JC's mouth, taste him for the first time, find out what would make him purr and growl and twist smoothly in Justin's arms. It didn't surprise Justin that JC kissed the way he sang, purpose and focus and passion blending together into an intensity that left Justin barely able to recognize the thump on the door in time to step away before Tiny was there and motioning them out.

It didn't surprise him, but it damn near brought him to his knees. JC, though, JC was calm and in control as he followed Tiny out the door, while Justin felt he was doing good just managing to walk. His brain didn't want anything to do with anything that wasn't JC moving against him and how to make it happen again.

It was all Justin could do to stumble along behind them, so wrapped up in his own brain that he walked right into JC's back before he realized they were stopping. They were in what looked like a freight elevator and Justin had no idea how they'd gotten there. There was a woman with them though, someone he'd never seen, so he kept his mouth shut and followed quietly when she ushered them off the elevator and down a hall to a hotel room.

Justin could tell the chair at the desk was one of those ones that would leave his back screaming after ten minutes, so, somewhat self-consciously, he settled himself on one of the beds, waiting while JC spoke quietly with Tiny, apologizing, from what Justin could hear. Tiny was still a little pissed--Justin knew that expression, it was usually directed at Chris or Joey for some joke gone bad--but he was listening, and it was really only a matter of time. Nobody could resist JC when he had that earnest, sincere look in his eyes and Justin knew Tiny was a pushover under it all. Nobody else would have given up a day of vacation to baby-sit him and C, no matter how much he was being paid.

He was right; it only took a few minutes and Tiny was slapping JC on the shoulder and shaking his head. He looked over at Justin and rumbled, "You owe me, Timberlake," right before he closed the door and left them alone.

JC stayed where he was, across the room and that was, Justin thought, probably a good thing. "This was my idea," JC said, before Justin could even ask what the hell was going on. "Neutral territory. Because I think we have some shit to work out here, yeah?"

As much as he really didn't want to, Justin had to agree, so he took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands up and down his thighs, and nodded.

*

One thing was for sure, JC thought. He didn't give a damn whether he was a pacifist or not, the next time he saw Tony Lucca, there was going to be some ass-kicking of the highest order. If Tony hadn't been so damn smug to the younger kids about the whole sneaking out and drinking underage thing way back when, Justin never would have gotten it into his head that he needed to do it, too, and JC wouldn't be standing in a hotel room in Disney World--and the charges were so going on Justin's card, not his--trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Or rather, why what had just happened had happened, because, really, every single nerve in his body was still firing off whoa, tongue, boy, dick, sex, more, more, more happy-grams to his brain, so he was more than up to speed with the actual events. In fact, his brain just need to calm the fuck down and stop fixating on how the soft, faded denim tightened every time Justin rubbed his hands down his legs or he was never going to get anywhere.

"Right," JC said, aimlessly, still fascinated by the up-down-up movements of Justin's hands. "Talking. Would be good." He shook his head a little, and seriously regretted the last glass of wine.

"Yeah," Justin said, surprisingly easily. "It would." He flashed a smile, one of his charming, megawatt, guaranteed-to-win-the-hearts-of-millions ones, one of the ones JC knew was as fake as a Hollywood kiss. "You start."

It was good to know that Justin could still irritate the shit out of him, JC thought. In a world where the ass who'd thrown him into a cold shower not twelve hours ago had somehow morphed into someone who could pin him to a wall and leave him all but screaming to be fucked, the familiar surge of annoyance was comforting.

"No problem," JC snapped. "Let's start with wow, there's this guy I know, who, hey, check this out, hasn't ever even mentioned he's into dick, and he just stuck his tongue down my throat."

Justin flushed a deep red, but he didn't look away as he stammered, "Yeah, I, I, uh, am. Into. That. Kinda. I think."

JC was suddenly ashamed of himself, for his tone, for his attitude, for making Justin, of all people, one of his closest friends, feel bad about something like that. Drunk and horny weren't acceptable excuses, no matter how aggravated Justin could make him. "Fuck, J," JC sighed. "You know I don't care about that. You just…" He searched for a polite euphemism because 'punched every button I have, now get over here and do it again' definitely fell into the realm of mixed messages. "You just surprised me, that's all."

"I, yeah, it kinda surprised me, too," Justin muttered with a sort of rueful honesty, and this time, his smile was the one that was always going to be the death of every single one of JC's good intentions. He couldn't help grinning back, and it seemed stupid to be standing on the other side of the room with his back to the door like a nervous virgin.

Justin shifted over as JC settled himself cross-legged against the headboard. They sat and stared at each other until JC cleared his throat and said, "So, yeah, about the other part of what I said--"

"I'm sorry," Justin interrupted, and now he was even redder than before. "I didn't mean--the last thing I wanted to happen today--I mean--oh, shit, I am so stupid sometimes."

"Well, yeah, you are," JC couldn't resist teasing, because it had been a long time since he'd seen Justin this flustered. He let the silence drag out maybe a little longer than was strictly necessary, but then again, it was Justin, and sometimes he needed an extra thump to get things through his head, things like not interrupting when other people were speaking, and not jumping to conclusions. Pushing people against random walls and kissing them unexpectedly should probably be included on that list, but JC wasn't kidding himself. As long as the generic 'people' got limited strictly to JC, he had zero issues with it.

Justin moved restlessly, eyes pinned to the floor as he stood up and edged away from the bed. JC watched in fascination as he wavered a little, but caught himself before he stumbled. Even drunk, Justin's body wouldn't dare disobey him, JC thought, before finally giving him a break and saying, "No apologies necessary, man."

*

Justin jerked his head up fast, so fast he thought it might snap right off his neck. JC smiled at him, and Justin knew he was the luckiest moron in the world. He was in the free and clear, he hadn't just fucked up beyond all imagining and he was so giddy with relief it actually took a few seconds for the words to really penetrate the happiness. And even then, Justin wasn't sure that he wasn't making up the want he was seeing in JC's eyes. He stayed still as JC slid off the bed, hoped his heart wasn't going to stop as JC crossed over to him, made himself breathe as JC halted just before they were touching, so close that Justin could almost feel the pulse at the base of JC's neck.

"J?" JC's voice was soft and a little hoarse, and no, Justin wasn't imagining things. He knew that look, he knew JC, and everything was going to be cool.

Justin finally relaxed and smiled. "Yeah," he whispered, and took a deep breath, long and sweet, from the diaphragm. "I'm gonna kiss you again, okay?"

This time, this time, it wasn't such a shock to feel JC's mouth open under his own. This time, he could pay attention to the way JC eased up against him, how their bodies fit so neatly together. This time, instead of one hard, wild kiss, Justin found himself moving slowly, as if he'd never kissed someone before. JC let him set the pace, allowed him to tease his way deeper and deeper, teased him back when he had the chance.

He knew JC so well, had seen him every day for so many years, Justin thought as he tilted his head back to give JC better access to his jaw and neck, but now, it was as though someone had reached out and polished the lens Justin had been looking through. Everything was sharper, crisper. JC was brighter, somehow, or maybe it was just that Justin was finally letting himself focus.

"Justin," JC breathed. "Let me," he started, and then leaned in for another kiss.

"Let you what?" Justin asked against his mouth, deciding he liked kissing and talking, even if it was difficult to speak clearly. It beat the hell out of stopping the kissing to get to the talking.

JC rested his forehead against Justin and smiled. "This," he said, standing up straight and pulling his t-shirt up over his head. He stepped gracefully out of his jeans and motioned vaguely at Justin. "You, too, man. Trust me, it'll be more fun."

Justin shook himself out of his shocked awe--someday, he was going to figure out how JC managed to make the most insane things, like getting naked at the blink of an eye, not only credible, but the only logical course of action--and fumbled with his jeans while JC wrestled him out of his shirt.

It wasn't the most graceful choreography they'd ever worked together; there were too many hands and not enough functioning brain cells, Justin decided. But then it was done and his clothes were gone and JC was looking at him, not moving, not touching, just looking, and Justin didn't care that JC had half-strangled Justin with his own t-shirt, not as long as he kept fucking Justin with his eyes like he was.

Justin looked back, started a list of all the places he wanted to touch, or even better, taste, because that was allowed now. He needed to remember that, not waste a second of this astonishing opportunity. JC reached out, tracing a slow, whisper-light path over the cross on Justin's arm, and Justin thought he might jump out of his skin.

"What, what do you want to do?" Justin whispered.

"That depends," JC said, stepping closer, but still not letting their bodies touch.

"On?" Justin managed to keep his voice from squeaking, but it was a near thing, and wasn't going to get any easier, because JC's hands were, God, skimming down his body, teasing over his hips, stroking smoothly low, low across his back, and Justin was going to be lucky if he could keep breathing.

"On whether we want this to be a tonight thing," JC said, and brushed his lips over Justin's. "Or whether we want to wake up tomorrow and do it again when we're not drunk out of our minds."

"The second one," Justin gasped, without even a second's hesitation or worry as to what JC might want, and JC's smile was answer enough.

"Good, J," he said, his voice low, rich velvet, while his hands, his hands moved like pure torture, slow, evil torture that walked a devastating path over Justin's skin, guiding him backwards until Justin half-fell onto the bed and JC climbed up over him. "I'm so glad. Because there are so many things I want. We won't have time for them all of them tonight."

Anything, Justin wanted to scream. Anything, but all that came out was a strangled whimper that JC's voice flowed right over.

"I want to watch you touch yourself," JC murmured, hands moving with sure purpose over Justin, learning his secrets, stripping him bare and keeping him safe at the same time. "I want to see what you like, what you do to make yourself feel good." He dipped his head down, and kissed Justin, stole the breath from his lungs, left him weak and trembling. "I want to roll you on your belly, spread you out in front of me, see how high you'll lift your ass when I want you to, how hard you'll arch when I fuck into you."

His hands were rougher now, pushing Justin in ways that he'd never allowed anyone else to know. His words tangled themselves around Justin, so tight Justin would never be alone again, so true Justin knew it would happen exactly like JC said, knew that he'd do anything JC wanted.

"Look at me, Justin," JC said and Justin forced his eyes open. "I want to see you now, right now, right when I make you come for the first time." JC's hands tightened until Justin cried out in pleasure, in pain, shuddering helplessly as he broke wide open from the endless waves.

It was good, so fucking good, beyond anything Justin had ever thought to fantasize about, but not done, not finished. Justin pulled at JC with shaking, clumsy hands, desperate to feel JC, all of him, on him, over him. JC came eagerly, covering Justin, hips driving hard, growling, "So goddamned hot, J, want you, want to fuck you, hear you scream, make you wail," and Justin had never heard JC sound so desperate.

Every word, every gasp was a rush, a new spark of excitement along nerves already stretched taut with desire. He wrapped his arms around JC, held him close, and moaned with him as JC came with a final heated twist. Justin kissed him again, slower and unhurried, no longer driven by the unexpected need that had swept over them both. JC kissed him back, and Justin tasted intimate promises, shifting and sliding and locking firmly into place.

JC was warm and boneless on him, and Justin let himself be lulled to sleep by the quiet rhythm of JC's breath.

*

The morning after an Epcot spree sucked. JC should have remembered that little tidbit, too. And this one was far far worse than any he'd done back in his mouse days. It was probably best if he didn't think about how much he and Justin had downed the previous day. He really needed to do something nice for Tiny, just for putting up with their drunk asses, right after he found some way to separate his head from the rest of his body.

"C?"

JC rolled over to see Justin, fresh out of the shower, looking down at him. It was a measure of his hangover that the towel wrapped low around Justin's hips came in a distinct second to the glass of water, and thankchrist, the handful of ibuprofen packets he was holding. Justin smiled and dropped two into JC's outstretched hand, and then one more when JC glared at him.

"Easy, man. Don't be od-ing on me."

"Best idea I've heard all day," JC mumbled as he drained the water and held out the glass for more. "If I were unconscious, would my head still fucking hurt?"

Justin ignored his whining, nudging him away from the edge of the bed, far enough that he could sit down. Without thinking, JC shifted around so he could pillow his head on Justin's towel-clad thigh, but picked it right back up when he felt the tenseness in the muscles under his cheek.

"Justin? Is this--would you rather I didn't--"

"No, no!" Justin shook his head and patted his leg in invitation. "I was just, I dunno, happily surprised?"

JC looked at him for a long minute, then decided to take him at his word, and laid his head back down. Justin was relaxed this time, all potential awkwardness gone, and after a second, his hand came up to smooth through JC's hair. His touch was gentle, almost not-there, the way it had been countless times through countless headaches over the years, but this morning, JC felt it in every cell in his body.

It was quiet, peaceful. JC started to drowse; only Justin's amused, "Dude, you're supposed to be the expert at this," kept him from falling completely over the edge.

He laughed a little, but didn't move his head. "J, man, if you were twelve, I was sixteen. We drank, yeah, but we took turns trying to get served, and when we did, we'd split it three ways, not one every country, not to mention the wine and the fucking yard from the Rose and Crown."

"Another childhood fantasy shattered," Justin sighed, but his hand never stopped moving and they lapsed back into the comfortable silence.

"Johnny called," Justin said quietly, after a while. This time, JC lifted his head so he could see Justin's face. "Jive couriered over their final offer," Justin continued. "He's waiting for me to get there to open it."

"You pretty much know what's in it, right?"

Justin shrugged. "Yeah, but you know how it goes. Don't trust it until you've seen it in black and white."

JC nodded--cautiously, but the drugs seemed to be taking effect, at least enough that his head didn't explode from the movement.

"So," Justin said. "I need to go, get over to the compound and meet with the lawyers." JC nodded again, but Justin didn't move. "I meant what I said last night, about not wanting this," his index finger traced lightly over JC's cheekbone, "you, us to be a one-time thing."

JC turned his head into Justin's hand, then leaned up for what he meant to be a light kiss. Justin had other ideas, though, and who was JC to argue with anything that ended with Justin sprawled out on top of him, heavy and warm and licking a slow path down his neck? "Me, too," he answered, eventually. "But yeah, man, go do your thing. I think I'm gonna hang here for a while, y'know, sleep late, order breakfast, then maybe sleep some more, have lunch, take a nap. Vacation-type stuff. You might have heard of that once or twice, right?"

Justin growled into his collarbone. JC's satisfied laugh turned to a hiss when Justin stopped growling and started biting, and JC definitely needed more of that. Definitely.

Justin rolled off him, though, letting the towel drop and pulling on his clothes. JC filed the sight away for future contemplation. "Seriously, man," Justin said. "Are you gonna be here all day?"

JC thought about it and shrugged. "Yeah, why not?" He looked around the room. "Wherever here is. I wasn't really paying all that much attention last night."

Justin smiled. "I--if the paperwork is okay, if they didn't throw any shit at the last minute, I have to track down Pharrell, get some things set up, call some people, but then," a deep breath, "I can come back?"

"Oh, yeah," JC said, and stretched idly, appreciating, luxuriating in the way Justin's eyes moved over him. Hunger, need, desire--JC could get high on this. "I'll be here, for sure."

"Good," Justin breathed. "I'll take a key, yeah?"

"Mmmm," JC agreed, rolling over on to his stomach and getting comfortable. If he happened to be showing a lot of skin, too, well, that was purely coincidental. "That way I won't have to get up to let you in."

"Jesus, C." Justin smacked his ass, hard enough to sting even through the sheet, and, oh yeah, JC could do with more of that, too. "Slut much?"

"You complaining?"

"No! Not at all, man. Feel free to slut around all you want for me," Justin said quickly. JC was pretty sure he hadn't even noticed that his hand was still on JC, tracing feather-light patterns where the sting had faded to a nice glow.

"All for you," JC promised, looking back over his shoulder at Justin, the words coming out more seriously than he had intended.

"Yeah." Justin bent down to catch JC's mouth with his own. "Yeah, me, too," he said between kisses.

"J," JC said, when he could breathe again. "Go. Talk to Johnny and the lawyers, make your million phone calls, get everything lined up the way you want it. Do whatever you need to do, and then get your ass back here, because I have some plans of my own."

Justin brushed a kiss over JC's shoulder. "I thought you were on vacation, man."

"I am," JC sighed happily. "There's not a DJ or reporter in sight; Chris isn't going to start banging on my door, demanding access to my mini-bar; the paperwork Johnny's holding doesn't need my signature…" He sighed again. "My only problems are lack of food and," he smiled up at Justin, "lube for when the workaholic half of our relationship returns." He thought maybe he should be wary of saying words like 'relationship' after just one night, but it had slipped out unawares. Justin didn't so much as blink, though, so JC decided not to worry about it.

Justin snorted and dropped the room service menu on the bed. "Food," he said. "And, uh, I'll take care of the other stuff before I come back."

"Excellent," JC murmured. Justin slid his hands through JC's hair, petting softly. "Get condoms, too," he added, drowsily. "Yeah, and buy me some underwear?"

Justin laughed and pulled JC's hair very very gently before letting go. "Later, freak," he said, and JC stayed awake just long enough to hear the snick of the door closing behind him.