Physics

by >>Jae

It was easier than Justin would have thought before he was in it. It was certainly easier than anyone else seemed to believe it would be. No one else understood. But no one needed to, outside the three of them.

Their publicist had grinned for a full day when she heard. Her smile slipped off her face when she walked in on Justin straddling Chris' lap in the quiet room. "I thought," she said, biting her lip. Justin could see what she was thinking, clear as crystal on her face. "I'm sorry," she said, backing out and closing the door firmly behind her. "I'm sure she is," Chris mumbled into Justin's neck, chuckling.

Joey slapped Justin on the back and made jokes about threesomes until Chris bet him twenty bucks he couldn't spell ménage a trois. Lance sat down next to Justin one day and said, blushing a little, "Do you mind. I wanted to. Can I ask you something?" When Justin nodded, Lance stammered for a minute, then got up hurriedly and said, "You know, it's not. I shouldn't. It's nobody's business, and I can't. You don't. I'm shutting up now." Justin couldn't help smiling as Lance practically ran from the room. Both of them got used to it quickly, though. They liked Brit. Lance just liked women in general, unless they gave him a reason not to, and she was Joey's kind of girl, aggressively pretty, sweet and shy until she warmed up to you and let loose a whooping laugh. The girl next door in a red catsuit.

JC liked Britney too, of course. He'd known her about as long as he'd known Justin, and he had a brotherly, gravely teasing manner with her that made her giggle and glow. And whatever he'd thought about Chris and Justin in the beginning, they'd certainly proved him wrong by now, hadn't they? So it was just JC's typical overprotective bullshit that made him pull Justin aside in the hallway one day and look at him seriously. "Justin, be careful," JC said.

"What?" Justin said angrily. "They both. It's cool. I mean, they both know and everything. Everyone's okay with it."

JC's hand tightened on Justin's arm as he studied Justin's face. "You sure about that?" JC said sharply.

"I wouldn't --" Justin started to yell, then stopped himself and took a deep breath. "I wouldn't do anything without them saying. If either of them said they didn't. I wouldn't."

"I know," JC said, and refused to let Justin shrug his hand away. "Just. Be careful, okay?"

Justin didn't need JC to tell him to be careful. He was always careful. It wasn't hard. He didn't get to see Brit much, but he called her every day, made sure to tell her how special she was, how much he missed her. He sent her flowers and bribed people to hide little gifts in her hotel rooms.

Chris would have kicked his ass if Justin had ever shoved a teddy bear under his pillow, but he didn't complain when Justin stretched out on their bed and paged through the latest Fu designs, or spent a day driving Chris around on several dog-related errands and being lectured on the finer points of mid-eighties power ballads.

Justin knew he was doing a good job when he saw how Chris and Britney were together. Even if Justin had wanted to keep them apart, they would have had to meet in public sometimes, at awards shows and parties. But Justin didn't see any reason to keep them apart. It was easier with everybody getting along. Justin flushed with pride when he watched them at their table as he waited for their drinks. Brit was shyer with Chris than Justin had ever seen her with anyone else, not aloof but a little awed. And the soft voice Chris used to speak to her was one Justin thought only he had heard before, rarely and in private. As he walked back toward them, Chris put an arm lightly around Brit's shoulders, whispering to her, and grinned triumphantly when her laugh rang out. Justin leaned over them to put their drinks down, and a photographer snapped their picture. Justin tore it carefully out of a magazine a few days later. Brit was still laughing, her mouth open and her head thrown back, and Chris' eyes were warm and his smile was wide. They were both looking at Justin as he bent between them, looking straight at the camera. Justin thought he looked happy. Justin kept the scrap of paper in his wallet, and he took it out sometimes, when he felt JC's eyes boring into him after he got off the phone with Britney. He looked happy. They looked happy.

They never talked about it, but the rule was that whenever Justin and Brit were in the same city, he went out with her every night. He saw her so seldom, after all, and he was with Chris every day. He didn't stay with her every night. He let her decide. Some nights she pressed against him, warm and eager; other nights she kissed him gently and murmured about being tired and sent him home early. No matter what time he got back, whether it was two in the morning or two in the afternoon, he always went to find Chris first thing. They never talked about it, but Chris always took him straight to bed, or the closest thing they could find, Justin's bunk or an empty dressing room or one time a deserted loading dock behind the stadium. Chris was a little different those times, quieter, more focused, not rough with Justin but peremptory. His hands slid over Justin's spine as it curved in a familiar arc, curled over Justin's biceps, pulled his hips back. Justin came away with bruises sometimes, tiny smudges where Chris' fingers had pressed in. Justin didn't mind. Brit never marked him.

Britney had a five a.m. call for a video shoot, so Chris was still awake when Justin came home. He was sprawled on the couch, flipping aimlessly through the channels. Justin leaned over and kissed the side of his mouth. Chris turned his head into the kiss, reaching an arm back to rub over Justin's hair and cup his head. Chris pulled away and stood up on the cushions, putting a hand on Justin's shoulder for balance as he climbed over the back of the sofa. "Hey, watch it. That thing wasn't cheap," Justin said, already moving toward the bedroom.

"I'll buy you another one," Chris said. "Oh, wait, no I won't, because you're a rich bastard who can buy his own damn couch."

"That's not the point," Justin said. He'd been drinking, not enough to get drunk, but enough so that a pleasant buzz rumbled through his veins. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and Chris pushed his hands away and unbuttoned it. "The point is." Chris shoved his pants down, and Justin stumbled as they tangled around his feet. Chris let out an exaggerated sigh, and knelt to untie his shoes. "It's my couch, and people. People should not be walking on it." Justin fell backwards onto the bed. "Unless they're prepared to deal with the consequences." Chris crawled up over him.

"Okay, I'm officially done talking about your ugly fucking couch now," Chris said.

"Not ugly," Justin said, and Chris put a hand over his mouth.

Chris came up gasping afterward, hands still grabbing Justin hard. Justin lay on his back and tried to catch his breath. When Chris' grasp loosened, he turned on his side under Chris' hands. He smiled at Chris. "I liked that," Justin said.

"You liked that." Chris' voice was flat and even. Shit, Justin thought.

"No, I mean, it was great. I mean, I loved it. I loved it. I love you."

"Yeah," Chris said softly. "Sure you did. Sure you do."

"I mean it, I do. I do."

"I know. I believe you," Chris said.

"Well, good," Justin said. He smiled again and closed his eyes. Chris put a hand on his stomach. His thumb rubbed small circles just above Justin's navel.

"So I've got this thing tomorrow night," Chris said. "For Fu. Like, a dinner thing. I promised Dani I'd go. I can bring somebody."

"Can't," Justin said sleepily. "Brit doesn't leave till Wednesday."

Chris' thumb stopped moving. "Right," he said slowly. "I forgot it was Brit's turn."

Justin opened his eyes. "What does that mean?" Chris just looked at him. "Look, if you want me to go with you, I'll go. I'll tell her I can't make it tomorrow. I'll go."

"No," Chris said.

"Yes," Justin said. "Yes, I will. I want to."

"No," Chris said. "You already have plans."

"I said --"

"I said no," Chris said.

"But it's no big deal. I'll just --"

"I won't go," Chris said. "I'll stay home, and I won't talk to you all night even if you stay home too, so you might as well do what you had planned."

"Chris," Justin said.

"Justin."

"I'll stop," Justin said. "I'll stop with her. Any time, if you ask me to. I will. I promise."

"Sure you will," Chris said.

Justin sat up. "I'll do it right now," he said. "Toss me my cell phone. I'll call her right now and do it."

"Do it," Chris said, his voice sharp, "and you don't get in my bed again."

"What do you," Justin said, looking down, hands tangling desperately in the sheets. "I don't. Why are you being like this?"

"This is the way I am, Justin."

Justin looked up at him, his head still bent. Chris was studying him impassively. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"I want you to go out on a nice date with your girlfriend," Chris said. Justin looked back down at the sheets, at his fingers, curled like claws. He swallowed hard, once and then again. Chris sighed. He touched Justin's cheek, and Justin looked up hopefully. "Look. Clearly there's something. She gives you something. And you want it, so."

"You give me something," Justin said urgently. "You give me everything."

"Not everything," Chris said. "You keep her around for something."

"You know what she's there for."

"I know," Chris said. "Do you?"

"I told you," Justin said. "I told you I'd stop with her, I said, and you told me --"

"I know," Chris said. Justin looked down again. "Come here," Chris said, and tugged Justin back down until his head was on Chris' shoulder. "Just go to sleep, all right?" he said.

Justin lay in the dark, Chris' hand tracing soothing circles on his back. "I don't know what you want," he said finally, helplessly.

"I know," Chris said.

The next day Chris smiled at him easily and tied his tie for him, slapped his ass lightly and sent him off to Britney. Justin had planned to come home early, but Brit was leaving the next day. When he finally got home, Chris was already asleep. Justin undressed quietly, but as he slid into bed, Chris rolled over drowsily and put a hand on his hip.

Afterward, Justin reached over carefully, trying not to wake Chris again, and felt on the floor for his pants. He found his wallet and pulled out the picture. He rolled onto his side, careful not to disturb Chris' arm around his waist, and flattened the creased photo out on the sheets.

They looked really happy.