Pairing: JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake
Warning: Angst. Adult content. Graphic male/male sex. I think that just about covers it.
Note: Umm... You ever wrote a story while watching some movie at the same time? I don't recommend it.
Summary: Wherein JC is, uh,... not JC.
Disclaimer: The world is a disc, pigs can fly and this story is true.
be there for you
|Like a cat.
First a languid full body roll which always ended with JC's whole body being stretched to the maximum. After that, the stretch of the limbs was repeated one by one, first the right, then the left arm, the legs following in the same order. The awakening process was completed with JC twisting his body into what looked like a cat's arched back. It wasn't until then that the blue eyes opened, every trace of tiredness gone.
Justin knew the routine, had watched it often enough to count the different steps out in his head: Three seconds for the body roll, then five seconds of JC lying tense and long in bed. Four seconds...
But JC wasn't stretching his arm, not this time. In a rerun of last night, he was feeling the bed to his right for Justin's body, brows furrowing upon not meeting anything solid. One eye opened. "Justin?" Voice tentative, almost scared.
"I'm right here, Josh."
JC's head turned, and a slow, relieved smile spread over his face. Leaving out the stretching of his limbs, he arched his back before dropping onto the mattress again and rolling onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.
"I thought you were gone."
"I'm right here, Josh. You can't get rid of me that easily."
Serious eyes turned to look at him. "I don't want to."
JC nodded, broke their gaze by closing his eyes. "Do we have to be anywhere today?"
"Only a concert, this evening. You think you can make it?"
"Of course. I can't disappoint the fans, Justin, they are probably already waiting in front of the hall."
"It won't do them any good if you break down onstage."
"I won't. It's not my first concert since... You know?"
To say Justin was happy would be a plain lie, but JC was right, and keeping him locked up in this room where no one could hurt him wasn't the right solution and only the result of Justin's over-protectiveness. He could express that protectiveness differently.
"What do you want for breakfast, Josh?"
"I..." JC hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not really hungry."
"You haven't eaten anything since the elevator, yesterday, and that has to be like 24 hours ago."
"So?" JC was getting defensive now, and defensive JC was stubborn JC. Not good.
"I'm only worried about you, Josh." Small voice, gazing up through lowered eyelashes, slight pout. The little-child look. It usually worked on JC.
JC remained silent, his hand tracing the pattern of the blanket.
"Please? For me?" Puppy dog eyes and full-force pout now.
Sighing, JC nodded. "Okay. I don't think I'll eat much, though."
"What do you want?"
"I don't care. You decide."
It had taken a lot of coaxing on Justin's part, and at one point, he had even threatened to feed JC, but eventually, JC's breakfast was at least halfway finished.
JC was in the shower now, the faint patter of the water coming from the bathroom sounding like rain to Justin. He resisted the urge to press his ear against the wooden door in order to find out whether JC was okay, because, well... Wasn't it ridiculous to be worried about someone who was right next door to you, in a bathroom empty aside from that person? No one could harm JC in there, no one except JC himself, and JC wouldn't...
Okay, bad thought. Don't you dare thinking any further, Justin.
Ignoring not only the voice that was telling him to make sure that JC was alright, but also the small one that kept dwelling on the fact that JC was in that bathroom, under the shower, wet and naked, Justin reached for the phone, dialed Lance's room number. Had to ask JC a few questions, then got back to Lance with the answers.
Three hours. Three hours of pretending to read some book while secretly watching JC working on a song, and then Lance finally called. Like always when you're desperately waiting for a call, silently begging the phone to ring and trying to busy yourself with something else, Justin winced when the phone actually rang. He picked up, listened silently, jotted down one name and a phone number, then repeated it to make sure that it was correct. When Lance said: "You owe me, Justin," he didn't contradict.
JC was lost in his own world of notes and lyrics, his pen scribbling in his notebook and his gaze directed at something only he could see, but jerked out of his thoughts when Justin left the room, stepping out onto the balcony.
"Where are you going?"
Justin smiled and held up his cell phone. "Just gotta call someone. I'll be right here, just outside the door, okay?"
"Will it take long?"
"I don't think so."
JC nodded, reassured, and a moment later, the faraway look was back in his eyes, the pen resumed his way over the sheet. Justin continued watching him for a minute, then he softly closed the door behind himself.
His fingers, only used to pressing the speed-dial button, protested against the long, unfamiliar number, and he had to type it in three times until he got it right. Then he had the connection, and he imagined a phone going off somewhere in a little room, a dorm, probably, and the occupant scrambling to find the cordless source of the ringing, hidden somewhere under piles of clothes.
Six rings, then a breathless, female voice picked up, asking for his name, and he found himself releasing a breath he had been holding in his silent prayers of someone being there to hear the phone ringing. Someone was there, alright.
"Hi, my name's Justin. May I speak to Amanda Cornwell, please?" He smiled because he had heard somewhere that smiling made your voice sound more trustworthy over the phone, and he needed that girl to trust him, especially if she was who he thought she was.
"Speaking. - Justin who?" Her voice didn't sound very trusting, obviously he would have to work on that telephone smile.
"Justin Timberlake. I..."
"As in Justin Timberlake from *NSYNC?"
"Yes. I wanted..."
She interrupted him again with a snort. "Yeah, right. Is that you, Jamie?"
"No, I already told you I'm..."
"And I don't believe you. Have a nice day."
A click, and then he heard nothing but the dial tone.
"Well, damn," Justin muttered, already pressing the redial button. She picked up at the first ring this time.
"Look, whoever you are, it's extremely annoying, so you either stop bothering me, or I'm gonna let the police track down your number."
And once again, Justin was left staring at the phone in his hands, taunting him with the monotone busy signal. One more try, then.
He spoke before she had the time to call him an annoying asshole, told her to take a slip of paper and a pen and gave her the phone number of the hotel reception and the number of his - or JC's, rather - room.
Perched on the edge of the bed, he stared at the phone on the nightstand, trying to force it to ring by the sheer will of his mind. It did, eventually, after what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a minute; two, at most. He picked up in mid-ring, hoping to hear that female voice again.
It was her, only that she didn't sound angry now. Embarrassed and a little star-struck was more like it, but when she started apologizing, he laughed and cut her off.
"Hey, that's okay. I probably would have reacted the same way if it was Janet Jackson calling me, only that I know Janet, so it wouldn't, you know..." He stopped himself, realizing that this probably wasn't any help to the poor girl, and decided to stop beating around the bush. "The reason why I'm calling is, well... You're one of the three girls who met JC last week, outside a club called Agar, aren't you?"
Justin reminded himself to invite Lance to dinner sometimes soon.
"Okay. Great." He took a deep breath, ignored the questioning look JC was sending him across the room. "When you came out of the door where you met JC, there was someone else there, too, do you remember that?"
"Trevor?" she asked, obviously trying to make some sense of his words.
Keep the excitement out of your voice, Justin told himself. Don't let it show too much.
"You know him?" He didn't think that he had succeeded very well, what with his voice sounding very hoarse and eager all of a sudden.
"Well, to say that I know him would be exaggerated." She seemed to be shrugging her shoulders. "He's in one of my classes."
"But you're sure that it was him?"
"Sure. There's a limited number of people you meet almost everyday at the Agar, and I know them all, at least by sight. Trevor's one of them."
"Do you have his full name or his address, by any chance?"
She no longer sounded star-struck, the suspicion was back in her voice instead. "Why?"
"Um..." He should have expected that question. Not everyone was willing to give him all the information he needed just because he was Justin from *NSYNC. Yet he was fiddling with the phone cord, twisting it around his fingers while trying to come up with a reason that didn't mean betraying JC's trust. He settled for part of the truth.
"Would it be enough if I said that he did something really bad, and now I'd like to have a word or two with him?"
The line was silent for a few seconds, and Justin could picture her frowning in concentration.
"Did he hurt JC?" she finally asked, voice quiet.
Justin looked over, made eye contact with JC and held it. "Yeah."
"Is he okay?"
"He will be."
"I'll be right back."
She placed the phone somewhere, on her desk, maybe, and she was gone, the muffled sound of rustling paper nearby reaching Justin's ears. A moment later, her voice was back, giving him a name and a street.
Justin decided that Lance wasn't the only one he should invite to dinner.
|So. You wanted to see Justin tracking down Mr. Asshole. Y'all happy now? J|