~~~
Part Two
~~~

JC shrilled when they passed a lawn sale, thumping Joey on the back so he'd pull over, and JC was off the bike before Joey could say anything, replacing his helmet with a bucket hat, sliding on his sunglasses.

"You're cheaper than Chris," Joey commented, sidling up to JC while he looked through old records, chewing on the fingernails of his left hand. "You know, we're never gonna get to Montana if you keep making me stop."

"I had to piss," JC replied in his own defense, smirking and wiping his fingers dry on his jeans, "and I won't go on the side of the road, no matter how much time you think it saves."

"Girl," Joey hissed with a laugh, and JC grinned back, flicking Joey's arm with his fingers.

"We should bring back stuff for the guys," JC said, picking up a ceramic monkey and seriously looking it over, "like, shit they don't need, but they'll take because they're gifts. And then everyone will remember how we rode a motorcycle to Montana."

"I think that hideous thing might be the only memorable part of Kentucky." Joey pointed distastefully to the monkey, and JC put it down, walking over to a table of handmade jewellery, all twisted silver and black, jagged lines. "Leo," Joey said, picking up a necklace.

JC thumbed the pendant around his neck. "Already have one. But, oh," JC picked up a black leather strap with a kanji symbol hanging from it, the tag reading ‘freedom'. "I like this. Hold on," JC slid by Joey, touching the small of Joey's back, "I'll just be a second."

Joey nodded and called after him. "You sure you need that?"

JC merely waved him away and paid for it, walking back to the bike and unclasping the hitch of the necklace. "It's not for me," JC said, fastening it around Joey's neck, his fingers ruffling the breaths of dark hair. "It's for you."

Joey smiled and touched his throat. "Why?"

"I don't know," JC said, grinning. "Because."

~~~

As Kentucky drifted into Illinois then Missouri, the sun began to set, and Joey was impressed they'd made the time they had, gotten this far with JC having to stop everywhere, needing to see the places he hadn't because he'd only ever really lived in Maryland and Florida and always slept on the tour bus.

The radio was thumping in their ears, some dance radio station that was so going to fade into static soon enough, and JC was moving behind Joey, dancing as much as he could. Joey could imagine what JC looked like, sitting back with jeans drawn taut over his stick-thin thighs, pelvis grinding into Joey's back while the stomach tensed and tightened under the light blue shirt.

Joey passed a fast moving pickup, and the driver honked loudly, teenagers in the cab screaming -- "fucking fags! -- while Joey gunned the engine, speeding by in a blur. JC was still moving, his hands on Joey's hips, rocking them together slowly.

"You all right?" Joey asked into the mic, and JC's hand appeared to his left, a thumb pointing towards the heavens. "Okay," Joey spoke, his voice shaky. "What do they know, right? Probably just jealous of my bike."

"Yeah," JC agreed, and he was murmuring in Joey's ear, singing along with the song, low under his breath. "Pull over," JC said suddenly, slapping Joey's shoulders. "I wanna dance for a couple minutes. Pull over."

Joey settled on the side of the road, and JC jumped off as Joey changed the output of the radio, music pouring into the night. Joey watched for awhile, bemused, and the pickup truck drove by them, screaming, but JC didn't seem to mind, so neither did he.

"Come on," JC said, hips rocking back and forth, mouthing the words.

Joey slid off the bike and moved over the gravel, exaggerating his motions, and JC laughed, doing the hustle. Joey grinned and mash-potatoed , twisting low to the ground, the muscles in his legs straining, and JC bunny-hopped back, his hips pulling his entire body.

Abruptly the song ended, and the signal didn't pick up.

Standing there, still, JC shrugged and got back on the bike, and Joey settled in the front seat, watching how JC's thighs slid alongside his and rested against him. The fit was comfortable, uncomfortable, and Joey tried not to think about it.

It was getting scarier every day.

~~~

"What a dump," JC commented as Joey pulled into the motel parking lot, and JC was still looking around as Joey went to get the room, stretching his legs. JC's pelvis was starting to ache, but it wasn't too bad.

JC looked down and blushed furiously. He was grateful Joey hadn't commented or anything because JC wasn't sure he could handle it. His erection was obscenely obvious against the pale blue of his old jeans. The strum of the engine was partly the reason, but a large part of it was also Joey, also the touch of flesh against flesh through fabric. It would have happened with anyone, but it was still embarrassing.

"Number thirteen," Joey announced, the key hanging from his index finger, and JC grabbed the bags, running to catch up to him. Joey was already inside, flopping on the bed, and JC locked the door behind him. "Shit. I gotta call Kelly."

JC smiled. "You probably should."

Joey picked up the phone and dialled the number as JC went into the bathroom, poking at his face in the mirror. He looked hollow and sick, which wasn't right at all when JC was fine, just a bit skinny and kind of depressed. "Joe?"

"Hold on. Yeah, man?"

"It can wait," JC said, and Joey grunted, resuming his talk about money and babies and car-seats. JC couldn't imagine having a baby, but Joey seemed to like it, really seemed all right with fathering a child he wasn't necessarily going to raise. It was nice. If JC wanted to have a baby on his own, he'd probably want someone like Joey to father it.

JC made a face then laughed at himself in the mirror. Too bad he was a boy and didn't need to think about things like that! Still giggling, JC walked into the main room and collapsed on the end of the bed, smiling at nothing.

Joey leaned forward, rolling his eyes at something Kelly was saying, and ran his hand over JC's back, petting him like he would a cat.

JC arched.

~~~

"Women, fuck," Joey muttered, hanging up the phone and rubbing his face. "If I hadn't got a decent looking kid out of it all, I wouldn't have bothered. Jesus."

JC smiled, and Joey rolled to lie next to him on the narrow bed, dangerously close together.

"So how you doing, Jayce?" Joey asked, putting his chin on JC's shoulder.

"Good," JC replied, his head resting on his folded arms.

"Um," Joey started, shifting his body so he was closer to JC, more likely to roll his weight and hold him down if he tried to get up. "So I've been meaning to talk to you about a couple things, you know. Well, me and the guys. We're worried."

"Why?" JC asked, sounded very innocent.

"Um, well, because. Um. How's Dylan?" Joey asked quickly.

JC coughed. "The choreographer? He quit."

"I know he quit," Joey said slowly, praying Justin was right, and that Lance heard what he said he heard, and that it all actually happened. "Um. Like about a month ago, right? Um. He was a really nice guy."

JC nodded. "I guess."

"And um, we kinda figured you guys were dating and stuff," Joey said quickly, face red like blood. God. This was embarrassing. JC squeaked under him and tried to get up, but Joey just kind of rubbed his back and smoothed his chin over JC's shoulder. "It's cool, Jayce."

"We weren't," JC whispered, "dating. We. I'm not. Well. Um." JC sniffed loudly, and Joey relaxed his hold a little bit, pulling back and letting JC roll onto his back. "I probably would have liked to, you know, been told you guys knew."

Joey nodded. "Like, Justin was the only one entirely convinced then Lance. Heard some shit, when you guys. Um. Parted ways," Joey said stupidly, like it wasn't as bad as saying "broken up" or "called each other fucking self-righteous cunts while trying to pound the shit out of each other." That was what Lance said he heard, anyway.

JC put his hands over his face. "Fuck. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am now," Joey said, apologetic. And he really was sorry. "We just. We were kinda waiting for you to say something. You know. He was your boyfriend."

"Um. He really wasn't. I mean, I thought he was," JC crossed his arms over his chest, "but he was kinda fucking that lighting guy who quit, too. So." JC rolled onto his belly again, rubbing his face against the blankets. "So. We broke up. Because, he was fucking that other guy, and he said I was mindfucking him, all, like, experimenting with his emotions. Whatever."

Joey frowned. He remember the lighting guy vaguely, remember how pretty he was and how he made JC look. Fat. "Oh, Jayce," Joey whispered, "I'm sorry, man. You can do better than that, you know. There's someone else out there who really loves you."

JC sighed massively. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I just. I'm tired."

Joey frowned but got off the bed, turning off the light. JC was already mostly naked, slipping under the covers, and Joey watched, though he didn't mean to, suddenly very afraid of Montana and all it meant.

Two more days. Two. Then. Everything.

~~~

JC woke up wanting to go home. He was sore from sitting on the back of the bike for ten hours a day, and he was humiliated with the thought that his friends knew he was, like, fucking a man in some sad attempt to figure out what he wanted in life. It obviously wasn't meant to be, or Dylan -- the motherfucking asshole -- would have lasted.

Joey appeared in the door with breakfast, and JC tried not to look at him, just followed the patterns of swirls on the ugly, orange carpeting as he wandered over to take a cup of coffee. He wasn't very hungry.

"Hey. What -- ?" JC said when Joey grabbed him in a hug, trying to pull away, but Joey was so much bigger than he was and kept JC tucked against his body. "Um. Joe. I'm. Thanks," he finally muttered, pressing his face into the broad chest.

"Eat," Joey said, but JC shook his head. "Jayce, please. I promised Chris."

"I'll eat lunch," JC promised, "I just gotta shower, you know?"

Joey sighed but nodded, and JC grabbed his jeans from yesterday and a wife-beater, locking the bathroom door behind him. The water was warm and soft on his skin, and he stayed in the shower until Joey knocked on the door.

"I'll be out in a second," JC said, shutting off the stream.

Outside, it was dreadfully hot, and JC eyed the bike warily, his groin already hurting at the thought of sitting on it, but Joey was already ready to go, looking hot. Um. Sweaty, and manly and angry, very biker.

And JC was his biker bitch.

That idea didn't make anything better.

~~~

JC was squirming, all sharp angles and bones. And. Erection, probably, but Joey was neither going to acknowledge or comment because it was pretty much mutual. The stupid bike was seeming less and less like a good idea.

"Pit stop," JC demanded, squeezing Joey's hips with his legs.

Joey rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Jayce. Are you pregnant or something?"

"Fuck off! And besides, didn't you want me to eat? I'll eat. If you just pull over somewhere, anywhere. Please, Joe. It was that coffee. You gave me that coffee." JC wiggled impatiently, and Joey bit his lip, trying not too laugh. "This is your fault."

Joey nodded and pulled over at the first place he saw, knowing only that they were somewhere in Nebraska or Iowa, and they needed to get across South Dakota today to get to Montana by tomorrow night. Or so Joey's maps from the Internet told him. He was intensely afraid of getting lost.

Joey slipped into the nearest phone booth and dialled Chris's number.

"Chris isn't here. He's sleeping, motherfucker."

"It's two in the afternoon, my time," Joey replied, tapping the dirty glass before seeing a suspicious stain and pulling back, reminding himself to wash his hands before eating. "So, like. We were right. About Dylan. Jayce got fucked over. Cheated on."

"Shit," Chris said. "That's just. Shit."

"He won't talk about it, really. I'm. Chris, should I turn around and chicken out?"

Chris growled into the phone. "Don't you fucking dare, knucklehead. You've only been planning this for what? Five years? You're better off now than then, you know, and remember, Joe: you'll be twenty-five in six months."

"I know." Joey looked up to see JC by the bike, looking lost. "I gotta go."

"Go to Montana, Joe. I mean it."

"I will. I promise. Bye."

~~~

JC nibbled at his sandwich, pulling off the crust then drinking half a glass of water. He shifted uncomfortably under Joey's gaze. Spitefully, he stuffed a mess of chicken and bread into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. "Fuck off. Stop staring."

"I'm not," Joey said quietly. "I'm worrying."

JC licked his lips free of crumbs and sucked on a wedge of tomato before saying, "I don't get it. Like, um. I'm fine, you know?" Joey didn't seem convinced, and JC sucked on his fingers, cleaning. "I am. I just. It's the eating thing, isn't it?"

"No," Joey said, "yes. And other stuff."

"Um. All right. I don't have, like, an eating disorder. I'm just. Depressed," JC explained quietly, whispering so people wouldn't here, and the Enquirer wouldn't run a full page article on his mental imbalances. "So I don't eat. Johnny knows this. It's not, like, a big thing."

"It kinda is," Joey insisted, pushing his crumbs around his empty plate. "Plus, you make me look like a lard-ass. Bad for the self-esteem, you know?"

"You have big bones," JC said automatically, smiling. "So, like. See. It's okay."

"I guess."

JC smiled and ate the rest of his sandwich, eager to please. It wasn't that bad, really, and his stomach only hurt a bit afterwards. JC felt bloated but not obese, which was new and encouraging. "How much longer are we driving today?"

"Eight hours? I don't know. We gotta get through South Dakota."

JC swallowed loudly. "Joey, I can't. I can't. It's too much. Can't we. Stop for, like, a day or something?" JC rolled his hips under the table, hoping he wouldn't start crying or something stupid like that. "I hurt."

"Jayce."

"Please. I'm not. I don't have enough. Padding," JC said, swallowing his laughter, and Joey spit out his drink, howling as he pounded the table, calling JC evil thin-related names, and JC grinned, cleaning up Joey's spit with a napkin. "Thanks, Joey."

Joey smiled. "Welcome."

~~~

They went to see a movie instead in a mostly empty town in a mostly empty theatre. Joey bought as much junk food as he could handle and dropped it all on JC when he tried to sit down, muttering, "damn fat ass. Fuck."

"Squishy," JC said helpfully, pinching the soft flesh. Joey laughed, and JC pulled his hand away quickly. "Sorry."

"For what?" Joey asked, but JC wouldn't expand. "Oh, hey. That's all right."

"What is?"

Joey waved at nothing. "That." Pinching my ass, he thought about saying, but that was kind of kinky. "Like, joking around like that. I mean, don't change things just because I'm a little bit wiser. I might have to stop sitting on you."

"You? Wiser? Never happen," JC said, but he was smiling. "Okay."

The movie was the most fucking awful piece of tripe Joey ever saw, and he usually didn't have any standards. JC was snoring beside him, drooling, and Joey wiped his lips dry with his fingers, smiling. Because that was cute and shit, unbearably so.

Fuck. Joey eventually shook JC awake and together they found a quaint little motel, getting a room. Joey pissed while JC fell asleep on top of the comforter, peaceful at last, and Joey sat down on the other bed, turning on the television.

JC jerked away suddenly and blinked hard. "Where are we?!"

"Um. South Dakota? Iowa?" Joey was no longer sure. "I don't know. Somewhere."

"Somewhere!" JC repeated, and Joey nodded. "Cool! I love somewhere!"

JC collapsed again, dropping into a quick snore, and Joey shrugged to himself.

All right, then.

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