JC couldn't help feeling glad that the People's Choice Awards were over, even though they weren't booed this time. Justin had flatly refused to go, still stinging from the response at the American Music Awards. For reasons JC couldn't explain, he never got to stomp out and say he wasn't going.

They did the media circuit backstage, Chris cracking bizarre jokes about him and JC driving a car off a cliff, which caused JC to stare at Chris stupidly before replying, "wouldn't that make us Thelmar and Lewis?" Like it was wittiest, cleverest thing to hit JC's mind in years. In retrospect, he thought it was rather odd, but then JC was having a rather odd evening.

It wasn't new, of course. JC was used to making jokes that no one got, and wearing things that made people look just a second too long. He remembered when Chris used to get him, though and JC missed that a little, most of all on nights like this when it felt like they were surrounded by vultures.

There were things going on, parties that JC was invited to, but he was tired and still worn from the AMAs, which embarrassed him more than it hurt. JC glanced quickly at Chris, who was winding down and nodding as Michelle spoke to him. Their relationship, though new, was already tumultuous, and they'd fought on the ride over. JC wasn't too surprised when she walked away, purse tucked under her arm. Chris looked up, and JC tipped his head thoughtfully. So Chris was alone now, which meant he probably didn't want to go out clubbing either. Maybe they could hitch a ride back to the hotel together.

"Goin' back, man?" His voice sounded more hopeful than he would have liked, and he wished that Lance was there with his trusty flask so he could have a little nip of something to take the edge off this raw feeling. Lance favoured vodka these days, which was just fine with him. JC remembered the days of bourbon and he shivered at the thought of the heavy, wooden taste.

"Yeah," Chris said and nodded a bit to affirm it. JC looked over his shoulder, to Lance, who was whispering in Laura's ear, an arm low and protective around her waist. Catching his eye, JC lifted his chin, and Lance nodded, raising a hand. He'd find his own way back, JC knew, then would be up most of the night, fucking. Lucky, JC thought, then kicked his feet at the ground miserably. Behind him, Chris put a hand low on his back and pushed. "Let's go, C."

Chris's touch was softer than usual, almost a caress. JC stiffened, tired of wishing, tired of wondering what would have happened if they'd been strong enough to resist managers and marketing and all of the earnest people who had been so insistent. He'd stuck to girls after that, mostly, buddyfucking his friends until it started to hurt him more than it helped.

In the limo, JC rubbed his hands together until they were warm, intensely aware of Chris sitting next to him, head tilted back on the seat, eyes closed. He looked and acted older these days. Not all the time, but sometimes, Chris seemed drained, like he was tired of everything but the music. JC could understand.

Their relationship had never been perfect, not like a fairy tale, but he remembered loving the music and Chris with equal intensity. It was odd, though, that JC couldn't recall ever falling out of love with Chris. It was mostly that things got too hard, impossible to hide what they had and those who knew weren't always enthusiastic, not that JC ever stopped feeling. No. JC really hadn't stopped feeling at all.

JC stared at Chris until he blinked and stretched a little bit, angling his neck to one side and then the other, like maybe he was more tense than he'd seemed. JC reached out a hand to rub at Chris's neck before he really thought about it, and he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry when Chris was pushing backward and groaning a little, like it felt so good he couldn't help himself.

They shuffled a bit on the seat, falling into a position that was familiar only from memory, with Chris settling between JC's kneeling legs, back broad and flush against JC's belly. Working his fingers over the knotted flesh, JC poked and prodded until Chris's shoulder drooped and relaxation seeped into his muscles. His work done, JC pulled his hands away and twisted around. Chris remained perfectly still but after a moment's hesitation, folded a warm palm over JC's thigh and squeezed. "Thanks."

JC couldn't help the shiver, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything that wasn't "Chris, please, I want you, please." Nothing seemed to be coming though, so he leaned forward, dropping his head onto Chris's shoulder, snuggling into the space where neck met shoulder. It felt familiar and Chris still smelled the same, and he was suddenly reminded of a dumb program on the Discovery Channel about sense memories and how potent they were.

JC didn't think about it often anymore, what they had been, what they were. Sometimes, he was struck by something about Chris that forced him to pause and think, "he used to do that with me, for me, to me," with a strange sort of longing, but for the most part, he tried to focus on other things or risk the hurt in his belly growing larger. JC couldn't help but remember how Chris used to splash JC with his own aftershave, so they'd smell the same. After they broke up, JC couldn't bring himself to wear it anymore, but he still loved the scent of it. Chris only used that particular brand on special occasions now.

"So, I'm one of your favourite best friends now, huh?" It didn't come out like the flippant joke he'd intended. He thought that he sounded wistful, tired, maybe just as burned out as Chris had looked before. It tasted wrong, somehow, talking into Chris's ear like that. JC wanted to wrap his arms around Chris's waist, lick at his earlobe, say the sorts of things that would make Chris flip him over and strip his clothes off like he used to, all those years ago.

Chris smiled to himself, the kind that reached all the way to his eyes, and he pressed his lips together. JC never stopped looking at him, couldn't turn away, not when, for a second, Chris's entire demeanor changed. It faded quickly, but JC saw it. Slowly, Chris turned to him and nodded, his eyes taking on a twinkle yet again. "One of my favourite people, too," and at that, JC laughed, ducking his head. People.

"Well yeah, you're a good people too." And Chris looked like he was going to snort with laughter. JC smiled slowly, amending it to "Person, even. A good person."

"Not as good as you," Chris said, his voice wavering slightly, and JC cautiously touched his fingers to Chris's brow, his own furrowed in concentration. Chris leaned into the caress and muttered, so quietly that JC almost missed it, "I regret, C. Everything that didn't happen between us, I regret."

"If I were that good, there wouldn't be regrets, man." JC stared at Chris, not wanting to be the one who gave up too much, played the fool. He was the fool too often, tangled up in his words and ideas, unable to tell exactly what he was feeling. It was easier than he thought to drape an arm over Chris's shoulder, snug him into a hug that was simple and comforting, without giving away too much.

"You were so good that I know what I'm missing, that I'll never do better, I'll never want to," Chris said, keeping his eyes on the floor, and JC tried to keep his heart from fluttering so hard that it flew from his chest. Instead, he just tightened his arms around Chris, still afraid to say anything. It was too fragile, and JC worried he could break it all to pieces if he opened his mouth.

Chris shifted uncomfortably in his arms, running a hand up and down his sweater. He looked up through his eyelashes, a mannerism that was totally Justin, and JC felt like laughing. "It's soft, C, just like you. And pretty too."

JC closed his eyes and leaned in, brushing his cheek against Chris's. He missed that soft sweet scratch along his cheekbone, and there were no words, no words at all. Words couldn't take away the years when they buddyfucked until it was too uncomfortable, doing their best to forget after that.

Chris moved his head so JC's cheek rubbed along the line of Chris's jaw, their mouths open, breathing in the same air and letting it out in time. If JC tilted his face just a bit, he would touch Chris's lips, and that was so tempting, but he didn't. He just waited until, finally, Chris said, "I need to try again. Without the shit, without the pretense, none of it, Jayce. I need to try again."

JC nodded, grateful that Chris did understand just like before. He thought that maybe he never quite stopped understanding, just repressed it, the way all of them did, really. "I think maybe we were too young, too scared to really try last time, Chris." He chose his words carefully, only too aware of how easily he got things tangled. This was too important to fuck up.

"It wasn't easy to think straight with Lou screaming at us and the guys too nervous to be supportive." He shifted, aligned his body right up against Chris's. "I want to try again too."

"Then we're trying," Chris said and smiled, weaving their fingers together, "starting right now."

It was just that simple, JC realized, tugging Chris closer and leaning in. The first brush of their lips was awkward, new and old and something in between all at once. He tried again, and this time it was slick and hot and just as good as he remembered, with Chris rubbing against him and making little happy noises in his throat while his hands tangled in JC's hair.

He pulled back and smiled at Chris, just as they pulled up at their hotel. "I'm so glad, so glad." And he knew he was incoherent again, but it didn't matter, when he saw the incandescent happiness he felt reflected in Chris's eyes.

~end~