That's When I'll Stop Loving You
by Allen Sama

~..~

He had romance figured out, and love was no mystery to him. It was all simple: it wasn't just flowers and chocolate, of course, it was spontaneous things, surprises, a whole host of tricks he kept the way a magician keeps his tricks up his sleeve. Always ready to pull them out should the occasion call for it.

Love, well: that was a word he used frequently and believed he meant it. He loved Kelly, sure, and of course his family. He loved their fans in a general way; he loved the guys in an intense, personal way. But one night, when he was escorting a girl out of his hotel room and into Lonnie's care, telling her that, sure, he loved her, he looked up and saw JC standing in his open door across the hallway. JC's eyes were flat, disapproving. He waited until Lonnie and the girl were down the hall, at least, before crossing to step into Joey's personal space.

"You really ought to stop telling them you love them," he said. "You don't even know what it means."

Joey didn't speak to JC for a week after that. He was stung. Of course he knew what love was. What the hell did JC mean by that, anyway?

It wasn't until Chris was leaving for the last time that Joey finally figured it out.

They all flirted shamelessly, on and off camera. Joey had never paid it much mind until the day that Chris laid a hand on his arm and make a kissyface at him; thinking nothing of it, Joey leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. The others cracked up and the interviewer dryly suggested that they get a room. Joey pulled back, blinking, surprised at the sudden intensity of what had been intended as a casual, joking gesture. From the look in Chris's eyes, he guessed that his friend was as taken aback as he.

Joey was quiet for the rest of the interview. Chris babbled at twice his usual speed. Afterwards, a laughing Justin shoved both of them into one of the limos, then grabbed at JC and Lance to keep them from following. "See you at the hotel, lovebirds!" he crowed before the limo lurched off.

"What the friggin' hell was that?" Chris demanded.

Joey, scarlet-faced, shook his head. "I don't know. I was just tryin' to be funny."

"Well, you weren't." Chris's eyes were black, boring holes in Joey from across the limo. Joey had the sudden and strange urge to pounce on him, which he found odd since he didn't normally find himself attracted to men. But Joey was nothing if not open, so he figured, what the hell. Chris hadn't smacked him or screamed at him or stormed away, so he took the chance and got up.

"What are you doing?" Chris yelped, when Joey put his arms on either side of the seat, effectively trapping Chris.

"Is this OK?" Joey murmured, mouth an inch from his.

Chris's eyes were wide, but he nodded, and this time the kiss went on for much longer. They didn't realize the limo had stopped until the door opened and the laughter of the others could be heard pouring in from outside.

They dated for three days before Chris pulled Joey into the bedroom, saying, "Look, if you're not putting out, I'm gonna get another boyfriend." Joey was nervous, sex with guys being new to him, but Chris made it fun, laughing at all the right moments, and when Joey put his wet face down on Chris's shoulder afterwards and shook, Chris held him and was blessedly silent.

Two days later, he told his mom that he was going out with Chris. Phyllis sighed and muttered something about Joey needing to find someone who made him happy. Then she smacked him on the head and asked him why he hadn't told her he liked men. He tried to protest that he hadn't realized it himself until five days ago, an argument which unfortunately didn't carry much weight with her.

It was easy to lay in bed with Chris and talk about nothing, stupid shit, whatever was on their minds. Easy to kiss his ear and whisper "I love you" and it made his heart feel ten times bigger when Chris would look at him, solemn-eyed, and say "Love you, too, Joe."

To say that Joey had had a lot of sex would be an understatement; but sex with Chris was something else altogether, a connection the likes of which he was decidedly unused to. He had never expected the intensity of it, the way he felt incredibly close to Chris at every moment, even when they were just sitting together on the couch with their knees touching. He proved to be a natural at blowjobs and the first time he tried giving a rimjob, Chris came without even touching himself, so he figured he was doing something right.

"God, I love you," he said afterwards, falling back on the bed and pulling Chris into his arms. He could feel Chris's eyes on him. It seemed odd; he turned his head, brushing a kiss across Chris's temple, and murmured, "What?"

Chris shook his head. "Nothing."

"This isn't just about." Chris stopped poking at the steaks on the grill and turned around to look at Joey, who was sitting on a lounge chair with a beer in hand, watching Kariya chase Nikita around the pool.

When Chris didn't continue his sentence, Joey twisted in the chair to look at him. "This isn't just what, man?"

Chris waved the barbecue fork in the air, a gesture encompassing the house but more specifically the two of them. "This. Us. It's, like. It's more than just sex, right?"

Joey rolled his eyes and pulled Chris down into his lap, carefully maneuvering the hand with the fork so that the implement pointed away from him. "Of course, dumbass," he said, before kissing Chris thoroughly. Chris snuggled against him in a satisfied way, grinning at the swell of erection pressing into his buttocks, and only got up with reluctance when it appeared that the steaks were about to burn to cinders.

"I don't think you know what love is."

Joey had never given much thought to going out and hooking up at a club. He didn't pay it much mind; it was simply part of his night, to find a girl to flirt with, and he'd had a few drinks and it seemed perfectly normal when she pushed him into a dark corner behind a curtain and went down on him. He murmured, "God, love you, love your mouth" at her and when he came, he felt his head being jerked up. Chris was on the other end of the hand holding his hair in a painful grip.

Chris didn't go home with Joey. He made the car go to his house and he walked up the driveway, a careful controlled walk, and Joey sat in the car and watched him go. He felt that he deserved no better. Actually, he felt that he deserved far worse, and so he directed the car home and got very, very, very drunk.

His head was killing him in the morning, so he was relieved when he stumbled downstairs and found Chris making coffee and silently handing him aspirin.

"Never fuckin' do that again," Chris said, "OK?" Joey just nodded and sat down at the table, washing the aspirin down with a cup of coffee.

"I promise," he mumbled later, as Chris was putting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Chris narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Fatone?"

"It won't happen again. Last night." He gestured with the fork absently. Chris gave him a careful look, then nodded.

"It had better not. That really fucking hurt, Joey. I mean, not just you, seeing you with her. But you have to tell people you love them? I don't get that."

Joey hunched his shoulders and poked at his eggs. He wasn't hungry. Chris sighed and sat down to eat his own breakfast.

"I don't know if I can explain it," Joey began.

Chris shook his head. "You don't have to. It's all right." Which was Chris-speak for "the subject is dead and I don't want to talk about it anymore", and Joey obediently put his head down and ate his eggs.

He was cautious about saying he loved Chris after that. Even in the middle of sex, he found himself putting his head down and mouthing Chris's neck, panting rather than say the words. He wanted Chris to know he meant it, but he didn't know how to show him.

They were in the studio, recording, and he caught Chris's eye during the chorus of one of the sappy ballads -- he could never remember which one -- and suddenly it seemed like every word was hitting dead on, true, almost frighteningly so. He endured laughter from the others while Chris beamed goofily at him. They made out in the bathroom until Justin pounded on the stall and yelled that they were leaving now, taking the car with them, so if they didn't want to be stuck they'd better get their pansy asses in gear.

In bed, later, Chris touched Joey's lips and murmured, "It's true, though. I'm not gonna stop loving you. Ever."

"Me either," Joey echoed. "I love you always, Chris. Always."

Joey liked to sneak up behind Chris while he was on the phone and grab him around the middle, tickling or pulling him down to the floor or grabbing. Chris generally yelled and screamed at him, but it was never serious. Then he started giving Joey sour looks because he was in the middle of conference calls with Dani and Fu people, so Joey laid off the sneak attacks unless he knew Chris was on the phone with his mom or something.

It was kind of mildly annoying, because Joey was used to being the full center of Chris's devoted attention, and Fuman took up a lot more time than Chris had anticipated. But Joey didn't really mind, because when Chris would finally crawl into bed with him late at night, he could roll over sleepily and snuffle into Chris's neck, and maybe wake up for sex or maybe not. It was all good.

It got to the point, though, where there were drawings and design sketches all over the house, and eventually Joey took a room and made it into an office for Chris. The morning it was finished, he led Chris in and waited nervously for his reaction. Chris took one look at the drawing table in one corner, the computer set up on a big dark executive-style desk, and the pictures on the walls, and proceeded to pounce Joey right there on the carpet.

The rugburn hurt, but Joey didn't complain.

"I have to go to LA for the week," Chris said that evening. They were sitting on the couch, stuffed from dinner, and Joey was randomly flicking channels. He stopped at ESPN and looked at Chris, crestfallen; he'd been thinking of suggesting that they find someplace remote to go and stay a couple of days, away from everything.

"What for?" he asked, levelly.

"Meetings." Chris bit his lip, looking at Joey's knee. "It's stupid shit, but I can't avoid it. The investors need to talk to me because they're getting nervous or some dumb crap like that, and it's just better if I go out and deal with this stuff personally."

"They giving Dani a hard time?" Joey asked mildly.

"A little, yeah," Chris admitted. Since Dani and Chris were close anyway, had been since the video shoot when they'd met, Joey had suggested that she be his beard. It worked well, except for the times like now, when people didn't take her job as co-CEO of Fuman seriously, assuming she'd slept her way into the position.

Joey nodded, felt a little guilty. "I'll miss you," he murmured, and kissed Chris's temple.

He drove Chris to the airport on Monday morning, way too early, and hugged him at the gate. "Call me," he whispered. Chris shivered against him and promised he would, and then disappeared down the long walkway to the airplane. Joey sat in the waiting area, watched the plane pull back, taxi down the runway, take off. He already felt hollow.

The week passed without event. Chris called Joey every night, and they engaged in lengthy phone sex after twenty minutes of catching up on each others' lives. Afterwards, Joey breathed, "I love you," into the phone, and Chris murmured it back, and he fell asleep still feeling alone but at least a little less lonely.

Thursday night, Chris called, but he was brief, telling Joey that they were going out clubbing and he'd call back later. Joey nodded and said he hoped they had a good time, and that he missed Chris.

"I miss you, too, baby," Chris said quietly. Then, "Gotta go," in his normal voice. "Love you." He hung up before Joey could reply.

Joey thought about going out, but he stayed in and jerked off instead.

He didn't hear from Chris again, which bothered him, but he figured things were just busy. He went to the airport to pick him up on Saturday afternoon, waiting quietly with Dre in an out-of-the-way corner until the flight unloaded. Chris had his head down and his hug was perfunctory at best. Joey put it off to jet lag, and when they got back, didn't think a thing of it when Chris just went upstairs and climbed into bed. He puttered around the kitchen, making some chili for later.

After a while he went upstairs and sat down on the bed. Chris was curled away from the door, facing the window, his breathing slow and even. Joey touched his shoulder, feeling warmth beneath the fabric of the tee-shirt, and wondered how it could be that Chris felt even further away from him now than he had when he'd been in California.

He didn't want to disturb Chris, so he got up before too long and went downstairs and put on a movie. The phone rang twenty minutes in; he sat there and let JC babble at him about the new song he was working on and whatever was on his mind. JC was a phone-talker. Joey wasn't, but he was happy to let JC ramble; it kept his mind off of things.

JC was in the middle of some detailed introspection about something - Joey had lost track of it - when Chris appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed and looking ragged around the edges. Joey cut JC off, saying he had to go, and hung up while JC was still saying goodbye.

"Come here, baby," he said, patting the couch next to him. Chris moved slowly, seating himself as far away from Joey as he could while still sitting on the same piece of furniture. Joey felt something cold turn over in his stomach.

"You should. You should know," Chris said, his eyes on the floor. "I slept with Dani."

The cold thing spread out to Joey's hands, his fingertips. "Oh," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"So. We were drunk. It just sort of happened. It wasn't that good."

Joey didn't exactly find that comforting. He stood up suddenly, thinking only that he needed to get away, get out. "I can't. I don't believe this," he said. Chris was silent. "I have to."

He grabbed his keys off the table by the door and headed outside. He was a little relieved that Chris didn't try to stop him.

He had a tendency to drive when he was upset. It let him focus on something that wasn't too difficult to think about, and he could let his thoughts drift. Today it didn't seem to be working, though. All he could think about was the image of Chris and Dani together, her body and his, and wondered if he'd made her laugh, if it had been silly and light and fun or, as Chris had said, drunk, fumbling, unsatisfying. He found himself wondering if they'd been together all day on Friday when Joey had called and not gotten an answer.

When the car stopped, he blinked. It took him a moment to realize he'd pulled up at Kelly's. Even though he and Kelly had broken up a while back, they'd remained friends; he still loved her in a more platonic way, and occasionally they slept together - before Chris - because it was nice to be with someone who knew you inside and out, knew all the ways to make you scream, and didn't expect anything afterwards.

He didn't know he'd been crying until Kelly opened the door, a smile on her face that crumpled when she saw him. "Oh, honey," she said, and tugged him inside.

Over bowls of vegetable soup, he told her what had happened, and when she came around the table and put her arms around him, he just leaned into her comfort, grateful. She kissed his forehead, and then he raised his head and met her mouth with his own.

"Joe," she said softly.

"Please, Kel," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I love you."

He drove home in the morning, not feeling much better about things. He knew it had been a mistake. Part of him didn't care. Part of him wanted to hurt Chris the way he'd been hurt. But he opened the door and saw Chris's stricken face - and the flash of fear and then overwhelming relief - and he couldn't say anything.

It was all right, though, he thought, kissing Chis against the door. Kelly wouldn't tell anyone. No one would know.

The tour started and everything was great. Joey had never thought about how cool it would be to have someone there with you every night after shows, climbing into your bunk and making a nuisance of himself by taking up all the space and snuffling into your neck while you were trying to sleep. They locked the door of the quiet room more than once and pissed off the others, and Joey could have cared less. He wanted to sing to the world how much he loved Chris. He'd never felt anything as amazing as being with him felt like.

"God!" he would say, blissfully nude between the sheets of yet another hotel bed, watching Chris sit on the edge of the bed - also naked except for his glasses, which was oddly sexy - and play Final Fantasy, the tip of his tongue visible in the corner of his mouth. "This is fuckin' incredible."

Chris turned around and winked at him. "You're whipped, Fatone."

"Don't care," Joey said, stretching back and tucking his hands behind his head. "Love you."

Almost inevitably, Chris would abandon the game for more carnal pleasures. Joey loved watching his face while preparing him for sex; readying him was almost as exciting as fucking him, his eyes going black with desire as Joey worked one finger and then two into him, and he would rock on Joey's fingers, keening, greedy. Sometimes Joey would make him wait until he had three fingers in, and Chris would all but scream with desperate need before Joey finally relented, rolling a rubber on and pushing in hard and fast, or slow and teasing.

In the end, it didn't really matter, because they always had fun, and it was always so good, and afterwards, Chris would cling to Joey, gasping for air, and there was maybe nothing better than falling asleep with Chris attached to him like that. Unless maybe it was waking up to Chris's mouth on his cock; that was pretty damn good, too.

All in all, Joey pinched himself daily and fell in love more each moment.

Kelly called one day, sounding strangled, and said she was flying out to join them. As Joey hadn't been expecting the request at all, he was more than a bit surprised, but he agreed and had his assistant make the arrangements.

She was there the following morning; when she knocked on his door and he opened it, she stormed into the room. She was red-eyed, her face pale and blotchy, and Chris looked up from the desk where he'd been going over paperwork. "Kel?" he said in surprise.

"Kel, what's going on?" Joey asked, reaching for her arm. She pulled away from him, and /oh shit/ flashed through Joey's head.

Kelly's voice was full of tears. "You fucker," she cried, "you absolute fucker. Joey, I'm pregnant."

Joey thought Chris actually took it worse than he did. He managed to stay calm, somehow, letting Kelly cry on his shoulder. Over her head he could see Chris fuming, his face dark, and felt, with a horrible clarity, everything falling apart.

"When was it?" Chris asked, later. Joey had gotten Kelly settled in her room; she was exhausted from the news and travel, and he'd promised that they would work everything out. Now, back in his room - his and Chris's - he lowered his head, staring at the table.

"When, uhh. After you came back from LA, when you told me about Dani."

"Oh, that's - Jesus fucking Christ, Joey, what the fuck? You weren't gonna tell me?"

"You cheated on me," Joey said, aware of how it sounded.

"So that made it OK?" Chris was moving rapidly, jerkily, transferring clothes from the drawer to his bag.

"I love you," Joey said, weakly.

"I don't care," and the sharp snap in Chris's voice hurt more than anything. "You don't fuckin' know what love is, Joey, and I'm tired of waiting for you to figure it out."

"I know that if you walk out that door, I won't be able to breathe right anymore," Joey said.

"That'll make it difficult to do the show." Chris zipped up his duffel bag and slung it onto his shoulder; his face shone with moisture that he was apparently ignoring. "What else are you going to say? You complete me? You had me at hello?"

Joey put his head down and covered it with his hands. "Fine," he whispered. "You should. should go and be with someone who does know what love is."

He waited to hear the door open and close. He didn't want to start crying until after Chris left, wanted to hold on to the last shred of personal dignity he had left.

Finally Chris's footsteps crossed the room, and the door closed behind him, and Joey let himself go.

They had to keep going with the tour as if everything was fine, of course, which it wasn't, of course. Joey was more grateful than ever for the bus arrangement, because Lance was quietly supportive and solid and generally so helpful that Joey half-considered kissing him, sometimes, but then thought about how much trouble that had caused with Chris and decided not to.

He was surprised to find that his feelings didn't change. He'd see Chris when they were getting off the buses, heading into the lower corridors of the venue, and his heart would give that jolt of happiness, and he'd scowl because he wasn't supposed to be feeling that anymore. He did his best to conduct conversations normally, but it was difficult when he still wanted to haul Chris into his lap and kiss the breath out of him the way he'd once done. More than once, he found JC snapping fingers before his eyes to draw his attention back to the present.

The knock on his hotel door surprised him. He'd showered after the show, but turned down the others when they'd talked of going out; he just wasn't in the mood tonight. He wasn't in the mood much anymore. At any rate, he'd thought they had all gone, so he was not a little surprised. He was even more surprised when he opened the door and saw Chris on the other side of it.

Chris was fidgeting, the toe of his sneaker digging into the carpeting. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Joey stepped back, still blinking in confusion, and Chris entered the room. He was positively twitchy, restlessly roaming from the couch to the bathroom door and back.

"Umm," he said finally, when Joey had taken a seat on the couch to watch Chris. "JC talked to me."

"He did?" Joey didn't quite get the significance of that.

Chris paused by the bed, touching the coverlet with his fingertips. "Yeah. Umm. He was kind of. He said we should. Fix things."

Joey looked down. "I didn't think there was anything to fix."

"He said you're still in love with me," Chris said, gentler. Joey looked up warily at Chris, who had gone perfectly still.

"He said that."

Chris nodded. "He, um. He said you hadn't said anything, but it was kind of obvious."

Joey put his head down against the back of the couch, breathing carefully. JC was up to something, he thought. JC was the one who had said he didn't know what love was to begin with.

"I miss you," he heard Chris say, his voice closer than before.

He gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, well. I miss you, too."

"Look. Joey." There was a slight shift as Chris sat down on the couch, and Joey felt Chris's small fingers slip under his hand. He squeezed instinctively. "Joey," Chris said, his voice faint. "I can't go through this again, OK? I love you. I love you so much. I just. I couldn't take losing you again."

Joey took a breath. His chest felt strangely heavy and light all at the same time. "I've never stopped loving you, Chris," he said.

"What are you and Kelly going to do?" Chris asked, after a pause; it seemed like a strange question, but a valid one.

"We're not going to. I mean. We're going to keep it. We're gonna try to keep it quiet." He smiled almost involuntarily when Chris rolled his eyes at the likelihood of that happening. "But we're not. I mean, we're going to share custody, but she's probably going to have it most of the time, but. She's gonna let me, you know, she wants me to be the father."

"Are you. What's your relationship with her going to be like?"

Joey realized suddenly where Chris's line of questioning was going. "We're just going to be friends. Um, for publicity's sake I'm going to call her my girlfriend, but she's not, not really going to be."

"Good." Chris climbed into Joey's lap all at once, pushing him back against the couch. "You're only allowed to have a boyfriend."

Now Joey felt positively weightless, even with Chris heavy and hot in his lap, and he grinned into their kiss. "'S all I want," he mumbled.