The Whole Mess

Part Next, by order of the foxmonkey.
(I am so whipped)


By nightfall Justin was cocky again.

“Rolling Stone,” he sang, “ knows it’s tiiiiiiiiiiiime to love me.”

He pulled his shirt up a little, where his belly still gleamed with baby oil. Fine like china, baby. It was a beautiful night.

He danced his way into his house, where Chris was sleeping peacefully on the couch. Lance was eating the last of Justin’s special made-by-a-baker-fan chocolate chip bagels.

He busted a move before punching Lance in the arm.

“I’m the Man, with a plan, and unHAND my freakin’ bagels,” he sang as sweetly as a bird in a tree.

Lance made a face, swallowed the last bite, and punched Justin’s arm twice.

“No. Finder’s keepers, J.”

“’Struth,” said JC, who’d read a book and suddenly become Mr. Auld English.

“Can it with the Knights of the Round Table shit,” said Joey, who had his feet in JC’s lap and a beer balanced on his belly.

Chris grunted and wiggled deeper into the other couch.

This was the good times, the sweetness, all his boys in his own personal box and a whole evening off with no interviews. He was the man with the beer-filled fridge, dibs on the remote, and the tingling fresh breath of a star. JC smiled at him over Joey’s huge feet.

Justin busted another move, until a flushing sound came from down the hallway and Tara appeared, dressed like a female clone of JC, poptrash style.

“Hi Justin. We were just going to watch The Fast and the Furious again. You wanna watch it with us?”

His moves seem to go a little flat.

~

In Which Justin Is Melodramatic

The Whole Mess
by whippedpuppybilly

Part Another

Tara made popcorn, and spent over twenty minutes massaging JC’s feet. Justin gritted his teeth when JC moaned appreciatively. He turned up the volume on the movie yet again.

Vin Diesel had a fucking sexy voice. Almost as sexy as… Vin did not have a sexy voice, because, hello, Justin was straight. JC would simply not shut up.

“Enough with the moaning, Chasez!” shouted Chris, incidentally making Justin spit beer all over Joey.

Joey spluttered, struggled a bit, and grabbed Chris’ blanket to wipe off his cheek. “Justin,” he prounounced happily, “ that is fucking disgusting. If you are going to spit beer on me, at least it should not be *American* beer. Have some class.”

Chris then leaped onto Joey to reclaim his blanket. In the ensuing battle, Justin’s beer was upset onto Lance, provoking a black cloud that settled over everything for about half an hour. JC and Tara just huddled together at their end of the couch and laughed at everyone else, which made Justin a little insane.

Things were not going according to plan.

The movie came to its big, romantic conlusion. Tara and JC sighed happily, for all the world like a pair of breeding penguins with no dress sense. Justin felt bitterness well up in his throat, completely unrelated to the warm American beer he’d been drinking to excess.

“Fucking gay guys who make plays for women suck.” It was true. Poor Mia had a broken heart, now, and Brian had obviously been in love with Vin’s character, what’s his name. Dom. Bastard. “They’re all bastards,” he said, to conclude his thought.

Five (or was it ten?) pairs of startled eyes fixed on him. Chris began to laugh, which was the worst thing he ever, ever did. Justin stood up and stormed out of the room, flinging the remote at Chris’ head like a broken sword.

~