kiss
by foxmonkey
The drop date for JC's album has been pushed back three times.
He's made salad and prepared fresh dressing for it. He's cooed over videos of Briahna, reminded Chris about the burgers on the grill, and told Lance there's no way in hell he would he wear - much less buy - a Jean Jewel.
No one's mentioned his album.
Justin's kept an eye on him in the way they have, looking for things they're used to and couldn't explain to anyone else, things no one else would even see. Something in the tilt of his head, an eyebrow not quite raised. The angle of his jaw.
He's responded to Justin's scrutiny with their time-proven, group-tested "I'm okay" signals, the last one delivered with a humorous look. He seems fine. Quiet, but fine. But they haven't talked yet and that goes firmly against the grain of the group. They live too closely together for things like that. Leaving things alone isn't something they do.
When Chris says he has strawberries, JC's eyes light up. He says he's got a taste for strawberries, so he's going to make fruit salad for dessert. Chris tells him to knock himself out, and JC heads toward the house, picking up his flip-flops as he goes.
Scattered at various points around Chris' patio, they watch silently until the door closes behind him. They look at each other. Joey and Justin move at the same time, but Justin shakes his head, one short, sharp movement, and gives Joey a look. They're all worried about him, but Justin's the one who's going to talk to him.
The kitchen is quiet and cool when Justin enters, and seems dark since he's been out in the sun for a while. JC's sitting on a stool at the center island, a bowl of fruit in his lap.
His hair is longer, it's grown out since he cut it for the promo shots. The curls are loose and slightly wild, curling a bit more tightly at JC's temples where it's damp with his sweat. Justin likes it. JC catches him looking and smiles because he's familiar with Justin's hair envy.
"What's up, man?"
The strawberries smell like heaven and Justin's glad that Chris mentioned them. "Same old same old. You know." Justin picks a strawberry out of the bowl, plucks off the green, star-shaped top and tosses it on the pile JC's got on the countertop.
"You're messing up my fruit salad," JC says. He's scowling a little, but Justin can tell that the irritation is slight.
"One strawberry. I think you'll live." Justin pops the fruit in his mouth and savors its tart sweetness while gazing at JC. JC, bent over the bowl, doesn't notice. He silently hulls the berries one by one, his fingertips pink and wet with juice.
The strawberries are fat and red and too tempting to stop with one. "That's got to be one of the best smells ever," Justin says, and plucks another one from the bowl. JC looks even more aggravated and raises his curled fingers, a threat that he'll flick the juice on Justin if he doesn't cut it out.
"Don't make me," JC says in a warning tone. "This shit stains, and I know you love that funky shirt."
The shirt's an old one, salvaged from the days when he wore them miles too big. The fabric is soft from numerous washings, and Justin suddenly notices that the faded blue is close to the color of JC's eyes, a soft, beautiful color that he's surely noticed before. JC cocks his head and gives him an inquisitive look, and Justin realizes that he's been staring. Misdirection is a useful skill, so Justin points to the bowl.
"You should put some champagne in there, and some sugar. Forget the fruit salad, man." He had something like it once, probably in Paris or New Orleans. He vaguely remembers licking it off someone's body, and that the taste was sweetly sinful.
JC hesitates, and his fingers still. He looks up. "That sounds good." He seems intrigued, which surprises Justin. He thought that JC would hold out for the purity of his salad.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think there's ice cream in the freezer, uhm, French Vanilla, I think. That'd be really good. Check, while I slice these. And see if there's champagne."
Chris always has a bottle chilling in the refrigerator; Justin pulls it out and roots in the cabinet for two glasses, uncorks the bottle. He opens another cabinet and takes out a container and lid for the fruit.
JC finishes the strawberries; Justin watches him coax the pieces with the edge of the knife, off the cutting board and into the container. JC nods at Justin to pour the champagne and he does, carefully, until JC nods again for him to stop. The smell is heavenly.
Justin pours them each a glass of champagne while JC sprinkles sugar over the berries and then stirs them gently so the fruit won't bruise. He seals the container and places it in the refrigerator. He resumes his seat on the stool at the island, and accepts the glass of wine Justin offers.
"There," JC smiles and raises his glass, "a fabulous dessert, courtesy of us." They clink their glasses together. JC sips slowly, nods appreciatively. "Mmm, good stuff." He looks up. His eyes are a soft, beautiful color that, yes, Justin's definitely noticed before. Acting on an instinct he can't name, he leans into JC's personal space. JC, with a look of surprise, leans back, but not far enough.
He tastes of strawberries. His lips are cool and wet from the champagne and part oh, so, slowly, under Justin's. As first kisses go, it's better than many Justin has enjoyed. It isn't what he intended to do when he followed JC into the house.
JC pulls back slowly. "Dude, what was that?" He wipes at his lips a bit with the tips of his fingers, but he doesn't look disgusted.
"You're wiping my kiss off," Justin says. "I think I'm insulted."
JC rolls his eyes and smiles. "No, it's just the champagne. You've got a little on your chin or something."
"Oh." Justin reaches up and JC reaches out at the same time; JC nudges Justin's hand aside with his own and flicks his thumb over the spot. "That was a kiss, and I'm surprised you didn't know that," Justin says. "I thought you'd been kissed plenty." His tone is light but JC doesn't smile.
"Not by you."
Justin touches JC's bottom lip lightly. "You looked like you needed it."
"Ah. Hmm. Thanks, I think."
"Don't thank me, I needed one too."
"You needed a pity kiss?"
The comment makes him frown. "Man, just...don't even. It's not that. You know it." The ensuing silence is awkward until Justin says, "Look, I just...I wanted to. You've been so quiet and we haven't talked about --"
"I'd rather not," JC says, his voice low and clipped.
"See," Justin says softly, and leans close, "there's that look again."
This time JC's lips part without prompting, and Justin is thrilled to explore the softness inside. He's thrilled too, at the soft, quiet sounds JC makes as they kiss, the way JC angles his head and goes deeper as he grows more assertive. Justin's fine with that.
When they finally separate, Justin brushes his lips over JC's temple. "We're worried about you," he says.
"I don't want to talk about it," JC says softly. "I'm okay, but I just. Really don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, we won't, not now. I'll call; it's been a while since we really talked."
"Hasn't been that long," JC disagrees gently.
"Feels like too long." Justin thumbs JC's bottom lip again.
"Easily remedied," JC says. "Call me more often." They look at each other and Justin nods.
"I will." Justin's leaving in a few days for the next leg of his tour; saying he'll call from the road definitely means something. Justin slides his hand into the rich, dark waves at JC's neck. He hesitates before he says, "Are they jackin' with you?" JC's laughter is a warm puff of air against his lips.
"Nothing I can't take. I'm okay, really. I swear. They pulled some shit and I held my ground, and they talked tough and I dug my heels in. They left me alone when I told them to, I'll be damned if I let anything screw it up now. I've got a set of healthy, fully-functioning balls, man. I let them know it."
A set of healthy, fully-functioning balls. JC's words cause a surge of tingling heat to slice through Justin's body. He leans his head against JC's and his voice is a little shaky when he says, "Unfair, man. You shouldn't say stuff like that."
"What?" JC looks puzzled, then he grins. "You didn't know that I have," he pauses, "balls?"
"You keep that up and I refuse to be held responsible for my actions." Justin slides his hand down to cup JC's hip, then around to lightly palm JC's ass.
"I think everyone's worried about the wrong guy," JC says, his voice soft. His hands are light on Justin's hips, low where his body vees into the waistband of his jeans. "You've gotten really thin."
"You're thin," Justin counters as if it's a valid defense for his own physical state.
"I've also got the metabolism of a hummingbird," JC says. "We're talking about you."
"I'm fine," Justin says.
JC doesn't answer right away. Then, "You want to talk about it?" His voice is low and he's slowly rubbing his thumb over the light trail of hair beneath Justin's navel. Justin clears his throat and looks down.
"I hope you're not promising more than you can deliver," he says, and he's aware of how husky his voice is, how breathless.
JC gives him a look. "I know what I'm doing." He tickles the dip beside Justin's groin muscle. "You're too thin but you say you're fine," he says, and leans forward to lightly, lightly flick his tongue in Justin's navel. Justin breathes in, sharply, can't stop himself from reaching down to cradle JC's head. "I'll let you get away with it for now," JC says, and leans back, looks up at Justin, "but this conversation isn't over."
"Okay," Justin whispers.
They're beyond kissing when Chris walks in the kitchen; they're making out, and have been for several minutes. JC's still on the stool, Justin's between his thighs, and they're moving together slowly as they kiss.
He's missed this. He's had relationships since she and he broke up, but it's been a long time since he's been with someone who knows him on a near molecular level. He's drunk with it, craves it. He needs it.
Chris clears his throat and they pull away from each other, but not apart.
"Don't mind me, I just live here," Chris says as he closes the door behind him. Justin waits for a judgment of some kind, but Chris merely sets a platter of hamburgers on the counter before he gives them a look. JC's hands are still low on Justin's hips. Justin's very aware of the spots of warmth that bloom under JC's thumbs.
"So," Chris says, leaning forward, the look in his eyes sharp and serious, "first things first. Should we worry about you, or are things under control?"
"Things are under control," JC tells Chris, but he's looking at Justin. There's a calm, quiet strength in his face, and for the first time since they've talked, Justin believes that JC will be okay.
"Good." Chris nods and he seems satisfied. Then he looks at JC's hands where they rest on Justin's body, and Justin's, where they curl behind JC's neck. "Second. Is this some freaky fling or is it going on tour with us?"
"Unless JC disagrees," Justin says carefully, "I think this is going on tour." There's a little something in JC's eyes when Justin looks, an extra sparkle he's only seen a few times this summer, one he wants to see more often.
"So, is the three-man bus still the three-man?" Chris asks gruffly. "Our three-man?"
Justin wants to tell him to bunk with Lance and Joey but JC says, after a quick glance at Justin, "If it doesn't freak you out, I'm cool."
Chris nods again, smiles a little. "If you want dinner, we're eating in about five minutes." He clears his throat. "If you want, uhm, something else, you might want to go upstairs. Plenty of guest rooms, man."
"What do you think?" JC asks, looking up at Justin. "Do we need to discuss this further? Upstairs?"
Chris rolls his eyes but Justin ignores him. "Yeah, I think we do."
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