Author: Zarah

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake

Warning: Angst. Adult content. Graphic male/male sex. I think that just about covers it.

Note: I developed this strange writing technique of staying up incredibly late, listening to music through headphones while writing my stories. I'm not sure if that's a good idea.

Summary: Wherein JC is, uh,... not JC.

Disclaimer: Jaxx thinks the world is a disk. She's wrong. I know that it's a disc. Anyone else about to complain about my disclaimers? No? Very well, then let's move on to the story - although I should probably mention first that this is not real. None of it.



...that these men,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of
one defect,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,--
Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo--
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: the dram of eale
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
To his own scandal.
Shakespeare, Hamlet, I.IV.

There's this saying about pets often resembling their owners, but no one has ever thought about creating a similar saying about houses and the people living in them.

Why not? Looking at a house tells you a lot about the occupant, starting with the amount of money the person is willing to pay for accomodation and residential area. Not only about their bank account, though; you can gather information everywhere. How well is the house kept? Is well-tended vine climbing the walls, or is the paint flaking off at several places? Are the windows dusty enough to keep out every ray of sunlight? What did the occupant place on the windowsills? Are the curtains closed even in bright daylight? And what kind of plants can you see in the garden, flowers rather than vegetables? And then, there's the interior decoration, of course. Very informative, especially the bathroom and the kitchen.

Standing on tiptoe, Justin was trying to peer through one of the windows in what seemed to be the kitchen. The house which he was leaning against was situated in a middle-class quarter of the city, a small row house with a frontyard the size of a towel and probably another one at the side facing away from the street. Nothing exceptional for a working man, but not quite as common for a student. Trevor Daniels either had rich parents or a prosperous sideline such as being a drug pusher. Justin reckoned that it was the latter, but he admitted that he might have been biased. A little.

His eyes, having gotten used to the darkness inside, were now able to make out the shape of a refrigerator near the door which had been left ajar, a table in the middle of the room, almost collapsing under a large number of empty and half-empty bottles, and a sink which was filled with piles of dirty dishes. Did Mr. Asshole just throw a party? It sure looked like it. If Justin was lucky, then he was sleeping off his drunkenness at the moment.

Justin threw a cautious glance at Lonnie who was looming in the shadows, openly glaring at his young charge. Maybe it had been a bad idea trying to sneak off without the bodyguard noticing, for one because a furious Lonnie had caught him just when he had been about to drive off. And, even though he didn't like to admit it: Justin felt reassured by Lonnie's presence.

It actually was a battle between his pride and his reason; the former being ashamed of resembling a spoiled little pop star who only dared picking up a fight as long as his bodyguard was there to defend him while the latter argued that pride be damned, did he want the same thing happening to him that had happened to JC?

The answer to that, of course, could only be no.

So yeah, he probably was a spoiled little pop star who only dared picking up a fight as long as his bodyguard was there to defend him, but this way, at least he remained an untouched spoiled little pop star. That night in the club should have taught them a thing or two, one of them being not to go out without any bodyguards to accompany them.

Justin took a step back, wiped away the damp spot his breath had left on the window glass. Turned to stare at the door, his hand still pressed against the wall of the house. Glanced at Lonnie. Looked back at the house.

Forced his right foot forwards, in the direction of the door.


JC awoke with a start, the shock of whatever bad dream he was having catapulting his body from the relaxed state of a sleeping man into a sitting position.


His eyes searched the room, settled on another figure on the couch, remote in one hand and looking at the TV.

"You're not Justin." Stating the obvious.

"True," Joey agreed readily after muting the TV and turning to face him.

"Why are you not Justin?"

"Uh... Because I'm Joey?" Stupid questions deserved stupid answers.

"Where is Justin?" Joey noticed that JC's breathing pattern seemed to be getting irregular.

"He..." Joey hesitated with an answer, carefully studying JC's frightened face. "I don't know," he admitted, quietly.


The door swung inwards, an annoyed looking man appearing in the doorway, rubbing his bleary eyes with the knuckles of hands Justin couldn't help but stare at.

It was a habit he had picked up a long time ago, back when they had just started out. He had been shy, back then. And although Lou had taught them over and over again to look into the eyes of the people they were talking to because it made them seem open and genuine, Justin had always looked at their hands first.

Often, they told him what was hidden behind those people's eyes, and so when he looked up and at them, he had been prepared and hadn't been quite as uncertain because they weren't strangers anymore. People's hands represented their personality. Not always, but often, they did.

JC, for example, had beautiful hands, long and slender, made to play the piano. Made to play the body of a lover as well. But Justin wasn't thinking about that, right? No, he definitely wasn't.

The hands in front of him were different. Dangerous. Thin fingers, white as a sheet. Always in motion, wriggling around as if driven by an inner will that went beyond the control of the man they belonged to. The hand was reaching for the door handle, the fingers wrapping around the knob like the legs of a spider around its victim. Gripping it tightly. Strangling it.

"The fuck do you want?"

Justin tore his gaze away from the hands, tried to hide his horror. "Are you Trevor Daniels?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Can I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer, just pushed past the man and into the house, hoping that Lonnie would follow. He brushed against Trevor in passing, felt the ghost of a touch when one of those fingers brushed against the skin of his wrist and had to suppress an involuntary shudder. Just the thought of those hands touching him made him edgy and nervous.

He had been wrong in assuming that there just had been a party in this house. No one with hands like this could have friends. How would they stand looking at him, at those hands that attracted looks, fascinated and disgusted at the same time?

How would they stand the thought of being touched by those hands?

And those hands... God, those hands had touched JC, had been running up and down JC's beautiful body, exploring, touching in places only lovers should touch, and... Gods.

This man had dared hurting JC, and now he would pay for it.


"You..." JC's voice broke, and Joey wondered if JC would freak or hyperventilate. "You don't... know?"

Okay, make that: Joey wondered why JC freaked and hyperventilated.

"He just said that he would have to talk to someone, and that I should watch over you for as long as he was gone."

"Gone? He... Where is he, Joe?" JC looked like a lost little puppy, sitting in the middle of a large bed, almost hidden under the pile of blankets spread over him.

"I don't know, Josh. Can you tell me what's going on between you? What is happening?"

"Justin... Justin, I... I want to talk to Justin. Joey?"

"JC. I don't know where Justin is. Got it?" Joey regretted his annoyed tone a moment later, when JC's eyes widened even more in fear. What the hell was going on here? He seemed to be missing an important piece of the puzzle.

"I'm sorry, Josh. But I really don't know where Justin went. You want to call him? He said that he would take his cell phone with him and to call him if there was an emergency or something like that. You want to do that?"

JC nodded mutely, and Joey typed in Justin's number, waited for the first ring before handing the phone over to JC who reached for it the way a drowning man would grab for the rescuing branch.


"Not now!" Justin pulled out his ringing cell phone, his expression softening as soon as he noticed Joey's name flashing on the screen. "Yeah?"


"Josh!" Justin blinked, his eyes not yet having adjusted to the sudden brightness of the room after Trevor had switched on the light. "Why are you awake? You should be sleeping."

"Where are you?"

"I..." He looked over, his eyes automatically attracted by the spidery fingers curling around a candle holder, crawling upwards on the golden metal before grasping it in a sudden, fast attack. Lonnie was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, clearly annoyed. Justin was grateful for his presence.


"Sorry, Josh. I got distracted. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Where are you?"

"I'll be back soon, promise. Try to get some sleep."

"Why aren't you here?"

"There's something I have to do. I'll be back soon."


"Get some sleep, Josh. I'll see you soon. Don't worry, okay? Joey is with you."

"You're not."

"Soon. Sleep, Josh."


"I'll explain later, when I'm back. Don't wait up for me."


"Good night, Josh. Don't worry about me. Sleep."

Justin ended the call, stared at the phone for a moment until Trevor's voice brought him back to the present.

"Your son?" the man asked, studying him with the distanced interest of a scientist.

He shook his head, feeling rage rise inside of him, rage against this man and his hands. "My friend. You know him."

"I do?"

"Although it's possible that you don't remember. Maybe you go around molesting people every day, so why should you remember a particular one of them?"

Lonnie made a sudden movement, but Justin didn't pay any attention to him, focused on Trevor, on the folded hands in front of his chest, fingers twitching in irregular intervals.

Eyes focused on Justin's face.

"I know you, too. You're his boyfriend."


"You aren't?" Faint amusement. "You mean that you don't know how much he's lusting after you?"

"What are you talking about?" Calm down, Justin. Don't let him get to you. Don't give him the satisfaction of putting you off your stroke.

"Ah, so you don't know that he was practically undressing you with his eyes in the club? While you were dancing?" Trevor came a step closer, and Justin automatically stepped back.

"Bullshit," he said, merely to say anything, to not let Trevor think he had any control over this situation, a situation he already controlled just after saying those few sentences.

Trevor shook his head, as if disappointed with him. "It isn't. Why do you think I pegged him for a fag, hmm?"

-- "This is your fault, Justin. This is your goddamn fault." --

"You're wrong. JC isn't gay."

--"But you said that it was my fault."

"I didn't mean it." --

"He sure was looking at you with a lot of desire for a straight man."

My fault...

Another step forward, another one back to keep the distance between them. When had Trevor gotten so close?

An arm lifted, and Justin watched in a horrified trance as the long fingers stretched to reach him, touched his jaw and trailed down to his neck, leaving a cold, damp trail of where his skin had been stained, tainted, and then Lonnie was there to tear the man away, his fingers digging into the skin of Trevor's shoulders, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. "Get your fucking hands off the boy!"

Justin didn't move, watched in silence as Lonnie slammed the man against a wall, delivering several punches to his stomach and face, stared at the small trail of blood trickling down the man's chin. He felt strangely numb, probably the reaction of his brain to all the emotions tumbling down on him him from all sides until he didn't know what to feel anymore. So his brain had shut itself off.

He felt a gentle hand on his arm, and then he was outside again, Lonnie steering him towards the car in silent concern. The bodyguard helped him into the vehicle, then sat down in the driver's seat, and when had Lonnie taken the car keys from him?

What did it matter?

"You alright over there, buddy?"

"Yeah." Justin cleared his throat, managed a small smile. "I'm fine."

Lonnie nodded sceptically and started the car. "Okay. Then let's get you back to JC."

The big secret is revealed... What, that's what you suspected all along? No big secret at all because it's been so obvious? Then how come I only got two correct guesses, eh?

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