Drabbles: Justifieded | Justin/Everyone | Popslash, SPN, CWRPS | Adult
Yesterday I wrote drabbles to celebrate the turning old(er) of Justin Timberlake, who would probably be totally freaked out by the idea that people might celebrate his birthday by writing about him having sex with various bandmates, his friends, and actors from the CW. He would probably also want you to know that he does not watch Supernatural, he only has a very tiny crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan, and, um, fur kills.
Justin, Nick Carter | Nick is happy, and not semi-retarded
It's been years since anyone has compared them--him and Nick--but whenever Justin sees him, he still feels that old pang of jealousy. Which is dumb, seriously, because Justin is JUSTIN, and Nick is just some guy from some washed-up boy band, so really, there's nothing to be jealous of. Justin has won Grammys. Rappers respect him, or at least they say they do long enough to record on his tracks so they can make money off him.
No rapper would ever admit to respecting Nick Carter. So. Yeah.
Which is why, when Justin sees Nick at the Grammys, Nick with his boys, grinning and messing around and looking pretty fucking good (not as good as Justin, but you know, who does, really? He's JUSTIN), Justin knows he's being retarded. Justin is performing tonight, Justin has actually won Grammys, Justin could be a cult leader if he wanted to. Or at least, that's what Chris is always saying.
So Justin could be a cult leader, and Nick is pretty much a has-been with, you know, really good hair, but like, even really good hair will only take you so far. Across the room, Nick grins at Howie, drops a long arm around AJ's shoulders, and he's not even looking at the cameras. So, good hair and a great smile, but Justin has his special Justin smile and he can get an entire arena full of people to scream if he does it just right.
But Nick. Nick looks happy. Happy and relaxed and he's with his boys and--he's with his boys. Nick has his band and all Justin has are dancers. Dancers and Trace, who really doesn't count and barely talks to Justin except when sports or the clothing line are involved.
Nick has his band, and Justin just has himself. And okay, so maybe Backstreet isn't exactly on top anymore, or anywhere near it, but Nick went solo and failed and came back and they're not on top, they're not Justin, that's for fucking sure, but they're happy. And Justin could be a cult leader, he has multiple Grammys, but he's pretty jealous. Nick has the good hair, and the great smile, and the happy band, and Justin just has. Justin.
*
Justin/Jensen/Jared | karaoke | adult
When Justin goes karaoke-ing (if that's even a verb, which Justin is sure it's not, but he's Justin fucking Timberlake and he'll make shit up if he wants to, yo), he likes to rap. There's this big karaoke bar in Nashville that's always full and the people there are good, really good, and almost everyone sings country. There're a couple of guys Justin thinks are probably gay that always sing Journey, but still. It's a great place, and no one knows him here.
Except that tonight there are some minor celebrities here, some country band and some guys from the CW. Justin thinks they're on the show about demons, but like, every other show seems to be about demons or ghosts or whatever these days, so. Justin sticks to Trading Spaces. Watching other people's houses get fucked up relaxes him.
So tonight there are these actor guys and their country band friends, but Justin just pulls his baseball cap low and hopes they don't notice him. Although, getting up on stage and performing a really fucking long rap song (and dude, he should not have done 'Stan' just because he really likes the Dido part, because seriously, this song takes for fucking ever. Eminem is a genius, but no one's songs need to be this long) is probably not the best way to avoid detection.
But whatthefuckever, right? It's his birthday, and he'll rap if he wants to.
Justin can't help watching them, though, and when the shorter one (who's still probably taller than him, which is just ridiculous) calls out, "Hey J! J! Get me another beer, you cheap asshole!" Justin loses track of the song. For a second, he though the guy was talking to him, which--dumb. Obviously not. Obviously, Ridiculously Tall CW Guy's name starts with a 'j'. Justin thinks he's called Jason. Or maybe Jarvis.
Justin finished his song and no one claps, which is pretty normal because--country bar, rap music, they don't really mix. And Justin thinks he's safe and no one's going to recognize him. At least, not until he runs into the CW guys in the men's room, making out.
Or, well, Justin guesses that mutual masturbation is probably a couple steps past making out, and really, that's what stalls are for, but whatever. It's pretty hot. Justin thinks about leaving them to it, but they're both. Yeah, they're both fine, damn fine, and Justin really does have to piss, only now he's hard, too, so maybe that won't actually happen.
The tall one--Jarvis, Jamal, whatever--nudges the other guy, who turns to stare at Justin. His hand doesn't stop moving on Jordan's (Jaime's?) dick, but his lip curls in a half-smile. He has dimples. It's kind of adorable. But also, hot. Justin wonders if the dimples come out when he sucks dick.
"In or out?" the short one says.
"Um. Uh. I just." Justin is incapable of being coherent. The dimples, and also Jermain's dick, are very distracting.
"In or out, Timberlake? Because we're kinda in the middle of something here," he squeezes Josh's (Jared's?) dick carefully, which makes him swear in a low, frantic voice, "and we don't usually make offers, but we hear it's your birthday."
*
Justin/JC | random bondage | JC is not obedient | adult
Whenever Justin considered sex with JC (which, seriously, wasn't all that often, only when JC used to do that hip thing), Justin thought that JC would be like, this pliant, submissive, obedient person in bed. He's not really sure why he thought that. In his head the explanations had something to do with JC's eyelashes and the way he gets all shy sometimes around people he doesn't know, but like, for serious, he should've known better.
JC isn't obedient. In fact, JC won't do anything Justin tells him to, and most of all, JC won't let him come. It's really fucking frustrating. It's Justin's birthday, damnit, he's officially old today, and he deserves like, some show of deference to his clear superiority. When he tells JC this, JC just laughs--giggles, really, and what kind of guy giggles like a little girl and then refuses to be obedient?--and slows down even more. It's the most excruciating, teasing, annoying fuck of Justin's life. He really wants to come.
"But Jayce," he whines, fingers flexing around the headboard posts, wrists chafing just a little against the furry cuffs around them--pink, because JC is the gayest man Justin knows, and Justin has worked closely with Elton John, so. "It's my *birthday.*"
"That doesn't mean," JC says, pushing in, in, way too slowly, a smooth slide with not nearly enough friction, damnit, "that you get to be a brat about it, J. I know your momma taught you better manners than that."
"Dude," Justin says, gasps a little when JC thrusts just a bit harder and his hips twist just so, "can we NOT talk about my mom when we're fucking?"
JC giggles again, starts the long, slow slide out, and Justin grits his teeth and yanks hard at the cuffs. He could probably break them. He's strong and they're not, like, high quality bondage gear or whatever--they're PINK, for fuck's sake--but then JC would probably get all pissy and not finish fucking him at all, and that would be sad. That would be a tragic birthday.
"Now," JC says thoughtfully, and pulls back even more, just the head of his dick inside Justin, tiny, lazy thrusts and slow circles, and seriously--most annoying fuck EVER. "What do you say, Justin? Be polite." JC smiles. Justin wants to kill him. But, you know, AFTER he comes.
"Please! Christ, JC, please, just fucking fuck me already!"
JC frowns. "That wasn't, you know, very polite," he says, "and I think, at the end of the day, that, like, you maybe need some lessons in how to treat people right, J. Someday you're gonna be all rude to the wrong person and people will stop loving you and, you know, I just want you to be happy, man, so. Yeah."
JC pulls out completely, and Justin glares. He wants to yell, and maybe curse, because it's his fucking birthday, damnit, and okay, so maybe he is kind of a brat, but. It's his birthday! He's allowed!
And then JC's crawling up his body, straddling Justin's chest and rubbing his thumb over Justin's bottom lip. "Open up, baby," he says with a smile. "I think it's time for your mouth to do something useful, for once."
"Hmph," Justin says, because, oh, that's JC's dick in his mouth, and yeah, JC's not obedient at all, but really? Justin thinks that's maybe okay. He could probably use a lesson in manners, especially if it involves blowjobs.
*
Trace/JC | Justin finds a surprise in his dressing room | adult
As far as Justin knows, Trace isn't gay. Well, JC isn't gay either, but he's JC and Justin stopped trying to figure him out ten years ago. But Trace, as far as Justin knows, is definitely straight, has fucked lots and lots of girls and is always trying to get Justin to invite whatever actress he thinks is hot at the moment to a show. So he definitely likes girls, and he's never asked about guys. Which is why, when Justin walks in on him blowing JC in the dressing room, Justin is pretty fucking surprised and confused by the whole thing.
"Uh," he says, tries really hard to come up with something more clever and coherent and definitely mocking, but fails because, well. Trace is *blowing* JC. Like, totally sucking JC's dick. It's pretty insane.
"Give us a minute, mmm, J?" JC says, and does this little hip thrust-twist thing that sort of blows Justin's mind. Actually, the entire Trace-sucking-dick thing pretty much blows Justin's mind in general, so. Yeah.
"Uh..." Justin says again. He should probably, like, leave or something. But it's his dressing room, and the whole thing is pretty hypnotizing. Trace actually looks like he knows what he's doing. It's pretty fucked up.
"Dude," Trace says, pulling off of JC's dick with a lewd, wet smacking noise and turning to glare at Justin. "Get the fuck out, already."
"Yo, dude, fuck you, it's my dressing room!" Justin says. He doesn't really want to stay, but like, it's the principle of the thing. It's his dressing room. They should be the ones to leave.
"God, Timberlake, you're such a fucking brat sometimes," Trace says. He's glaring, and his mouth is very red. Justin tries not to stare at it.
JC makes a frustrated noise, and then Justin's trying really hard not to look at JC's dick all waving around in Trace's face like it's saying, 'Hey, what about me, I need some sucking!' Ten years in a band together and Justin's never seen JC's dick before now. Before his best friend since birth decided to go ahead and suck it. This is so fucked up. Justin doesn't leave, though. It's still his dressing room.
"Fine, be a bitch," Trace says, shrugs, and turns back to JC. Turns back to JC's dick and starts doing this licking thing that has JC making these funny little growly noises and, okay.
Okay so, as far as Justin knows, Trace isn't gay. Apparently, he just really, really likes JC's dick.
*
Justin meets Mayhem, part 1 | or, why Paris Hilton is a big whore
Justin's nervous, which is pretty weird because Justin's not a nervous guy. Anxious, sure, but that's like, a mental illness or whatever and as long as he always has some anti-bacterial hand wash on hand and is very careful not to talk out loud when he's counting stairs or ceiling tiles or books on shelves or marbles in jars or whatever, he can usually get away with it. This is something different, though, and he's nervous.
He's meeting them after the show. He's in Vancouver to perform and he knows they're going to be there because their publicist talked to his publicist to get them tickets and Justin casually mentioned to his publicist that they could maybe come back and meet him after the show and they are, so yeah. He's nervous.
He's sweaty and disgusting and Trace is pelting him with towels saying, "You fucking stink, Timberlake, you're so dirty!" when they walk in. His publicist--Tracy, he thinks her name is, but maybe Mary or Stacy, Jive is always sending someone new--introduces them, and they brought a friend. Actually, they brought fucking Chad Michael Murray, and Justin's not sure how he's supposed to feel about that, because, well. Murray fucked Paris Hilton when she was dating Nick, and Nick's a good guy even if Justin thinks he's semi-retarded, but that's like, even more reason to be pissed off on Nick's behalf. Who fucks a semi-retarded guy's girlfriend? Like, what kind of person does that? It's just not cool.
Also, he's wearing JC's scarf. The skull one that Justin hates so much. Justin narrows his eyes and smiles his blinding Justin smile. There are greetings and Jared babbles adorably about how awesome Justin is (which really, Justin never gets tired of hearing) and Jensen has freckles in real life, and it's all pretty cool. And then Justin turns to Chad, taking a long drink from his water bottle.
"So," he says, "I hear you stuck your dick in Paris Hilton. Was that before or after the herpes outbreak?"
*
Justin watches Supernatural | Everyone thinks Jared and Jensen are doing it
Justin doesn't watch much tv usually, but now that he's touring, it seems like that's all he does. He has a bunch of shows on DVD and he just watches them straight through on travel days, sitting in his bus lounge with a mug of tea wearing sweats that he thinks might have been JC's at one time, because he's pretty sure no one else he knows would even own pink sweats. Trace does stuff on his laptop and ignores the television. That is, until Justin turns on Supernatural.
Justin's pretty sure Lance sent it to him. Mainly because there's a note stuck on the first DVD case that says, "Brothers were never so gay for each other!!!" The words 'so gay' are underlined. Twice.
Justin spends most of the show watching and freaking out because really, Lance is right and it's pretty gay, and brothers should not touch each other that way like, ever, but also because it's a fucking scary show. After the bloody Mary episode, Justin refuses to close the door to the bathroom for a week and makes Trace stay with him in the dressing rooms at venues, because there's no way in hell he's going to be left alone around a mirror to die a horrible, bloody-eyed death.
The last few episodes come as a shock. Justin loves Gray's Anatomy, has been watching it for forever, and it's weird to see Denny being all kick ass and shit. And then he gets taken, and Justin starts to worry, because seriously, that actor has the shittiest luck in the world. The brothers are worried too, holed up in some skanky-ass motel room, and then--
"Whoa," Trace says, looking up from his laptop. Justin suspects that he's been watching sneakily this whole time. Trace tries to seem cool, but he loves bad tv just as much as Justin does. He'd probably watch Wifeswap if Justin let him. "Whoa," he says again. "Dude, those actors--they should, uh. They're supposed to be brothers?"
Justin nods and keeps his eyes on the screen, where Sam is freaking out and making grabby hands at Dean and for a second, it looks like they might start making out. It's pretty fucked up.
"You know what?" Justin says. "I think, you know, the actors should probably stop fucking each other if they want people to believe this whole brothers storyline."
"Yeah," Trace says, licks his lips. "For fucking serious." Then: "Hey, do you think you could get a meeting with the short one?"
"Uh, duh," Justin says. "But, man, the other one would probably kick my ass for trying to steal his boyfriend."
*
Justin worries about Lance, accidentally likes Fall Out Boy | vaguely lambs | schmoopy
At some point, Justin thinks, he's really going to have to find more work for Trace to do, just to keep him too busy to look at the fucking gossip blogs all day. It's like an addiction, Justin thinks, watching Trace click away on his laptop, smirking when he finds a really nasty story, narrowing his eyes whenever he sees something about Justin. For the most part, Justin ignores it, but like, seriously? Ever since the Breakup, it's gotten almost unbearable.
"Dude!" Trace says, looking up from his keyboard. "Oh man, this is classic, J, you gotta hear this."
"You know I hate that shit, man. I'd just, you know, rather not know what they're saying."
"No man, but this is funny. TMZ is, like, analyzing Lance's myspace for clues about his break up. Get this--they think Lance putting 'What Goes Around' on his profile is some kind of message to that guy."
"That guy has a name, dude," Justin says. Which, technically, is true, but Justin has worked really hard to forget it and anyway, most of it's unpronounceable so he pretty much stopped trying the second after they were introduced.
Justin forgets about for a week, but then they're back on the bus and Trace has his laptop open. It's playing a song Justin's never heard before, some emo-rock thing, but the lyrics are interesting, something about being an arms dealer with words as weapons. Justin sucks at lyrics, it's not, like, some sort of secret or whatever, and these are really good. Impressive. The song still isn't his style, it's too thrashy or whatever, but it has a good beat and it's really fucking catchy.
"Hey," Justin says. "Hey, what's that song? Play it again, dude."
Trace shrugs. "I don't know, just something on Lance's myspace."
Lance's myspace. Justin's starting to fucking hate myspace, he can't deal with the internet at all and Lance has become, like, some sort of internet whore, but now he can't stop thinking about it, either. Lance has that song on his myspace, the song about weapons in the form of words, and it's. It's weird. It means something, Justin thinks. Now he's worried.
He's worried and Justin really doesn't like to worry because it makes him break out and then he's not allowed to have chocolate again until his skin clears up and he has to wear, like, pounds of makeup, so he gives in and calls Lance. He gets Lance's voicemail.
"Hey, Lance. It's me. Um. Justin. Right. So, like, I was just wondering how you're doing and stuff. Because of the thing that happened, and because I'm a fantastic friend and I want to be support in your time of need or whatever. Call me. Or something. Bye. I love you. Bye."
Justin gets a text message an hour later.
I'm fine, you fucker. The songs don't mean anything, stop worrying.
A minute after that, he gets another one: I love you, too.
Justin, Nick Carter | Nick is happy, and not semi-retarded
It's been years since anyone has compared them--him and Nick--but whenever Justin sees him, he still feels that old pang of jealousy. Which is dumb, seriously, because Justin is JUSTIN, and Nick is just some guy from some washed-up boy band, so really, there's nothing to be jealous of. Justin has won Grammys. Rappers respect him, or at least they say they do long enough to record on his tracks so they can make money off him.
No rapper would ever admit to respecting Nick Carter. So. Yeah.
Which is why, when Justin sees Nick at the Grammys, Nick with his boys, grinning and messing around and looking pretty fucking good (not as good as Justin, but you know, who does, really? He's JUSTIN), Justin knows he's being retarded. Justin is performing tonight, Justin has actually won Grammys, Justin could be a cult leader if he wanted to. Or at least, that's what Chris is always saying.
So Justin could be a cult leader, and Nick is pretty much a has-been with, you know, really good hair, but like, even really good hair will only take you so far. Across the room, Nick grins at Howie, drops a long arm around AJ's shoulders, and he's not even looking at the cameras. So, good hair and a great smile, but Justin has his special Justin smile and he can get an entire arena full of people to scream if he does it just right.
But Nick. Nick looks happy. Happy and relaxed and he's with his boys and--he's with his boys. Nick has his band and all Justin has are dancers. Dancers and Trace, who really doesn't count and barely talks to Justin except when sports or the clothing line are involved.
Nick has his band, and Justin just has himself. And okay, so maybe Backstreet isn't exactly on top anymore, or anywhere near it, but Nick went solo and failed and came back and they're not on top, they're not Justin, that's for fucking sure, but they're happy. And Justin could be a cult leader, he has multiple Grammys, but he's pretty jealous. Nick has the good hair, and the great smile, and the happy band, and Justin just has. Justin.
*
Justin/Jensen/Jared | karaoke | adult
When Justin goes karaoke-ing (if that's even a verb, which Justin is sure it's not, but he's Justin fucking Timberlake and he'll make shit up if he wants to, yo), he likes to rap. There's this big karaoke bar in Nashville that's always full and the people there are good, really good, and almost everyone sings country. There're a couple of guys Justin thinks are probably gay that always sing Journey, but still. It's a great place, and no one knows him here.
Except that tonight there are some minor celebrities here, some country band and some guys from the CW. Justin thinks they're on the show about demons, but like, every other show seems to be about demons or ghosts or whatever these days, so. Justin sticks to Trading Spaces. Watching other people's houses get fucked up relaxes him.
So tonight there are these actor guys and their country band friends, but Justin just pulls his baseball cap low and hopes they don't notice him. Although, getting up on stage and performing a really fucking long rap song (and dude, he should not have done 'Stan' just because he really likes the Dido part, because seriously, this song takes for fucking ever. Eminem is a genius, but no one's songs need to be this long) is probably not the best way to avoid detection.
But whatthefuckever, right? It's his birthday, and he'll rap if he wants to.
Justin can't help watching them, though, and when the shorter one (who's still probably taller than him, which is just ridiculous) calls out, "Hey J! J! Get me another beer, you cheap asshole!" Justin loses track of the song. For a second, he though the guy was talking to him, which--dumb. Obviously not. Obviously, Ridiculously Tall CW Guy's name starts with a 'j'. Justin thinks he's called Jason. Or maybe Jarvis.
Justin finished his song and no one claps, which is pretty normal because--country bar, rap music, they don't really mix. And Justin thinks he's safe and no one's going to recognize him. At least, not until he runs into the CW guys in the men's room, making out.
Or, well, Justin guesses that mutual masturbation is probably a couple steps past making out, and really, that's what stalls are for, but whatever. It's pretty hot. Justin thinks about leaving them to it, but they're both. Yeah, they're both fine, damn fine, and Justin really does have to piss, only now he's hard, too, so maybe that won't actually happen.
The tall one--Jarvis, Jamal, whatever--nudges the other guy, who turns to stare at Justin. His hand doesn't stop moving on Jordan's (Jaime's?) dick, but his lip curls in a half-smile. He has dimples. It's kind of adorable. But also, hot. Justin wonders if the dimples come out when he sucks dick.
"In or out?" the short one says.
"Um. Uh. I just." Justin is incapable of being coherent. The dimples, and also Jermain's dick, are very distracting.
"In or out, Timberlake? Because we're kinda in the middle of something here," he squeezes Josh's (Jared's?) dick carefully, which makes him swear in a low, frantic voice, "and we don't usually make offers, but we hear it's your birthday."
*
Justin/JC | random bondage | JC is not obedient | adult
Whenever Justin considered sex with JC (which, seriously, wasn't all that often, only when JC used to do that hip thing), Justin thought that JC would be like, this pliant, submissive, obedient person in bed. He's not really sure why he thought that. In his head the explanations had something to do with JC's eyelashes and the way he gets all shy sometimes around people he doesn't know, but like, for serious, he should've known better.
JC isn't obedient. In fact, JC won't do anything Justin tells him to, and most of all, JC won't let him come. It's really fucking frustrating. It's Justin's birthday, damnit, he's officially old today, and he deserves like, some show of deference to his clear superiority. When he tells JC this, JC just laughs--giggles, really, and what kind of guy giggles like a little girl and then refuses to be obedient?--and slows down even more. It's the most excruciating, teasing, annoying fuck of Justin's life. He really wants to come.
"But Jayce," he whines, fingers flexing around the headboard posts, wrists chafing just a little against the furry cuffs around them--pink, because JC is the gayest man Justin knows, and Justin has worked closely with Elton John, so. "It's my *birthday.*"
"That doesn't mean," JC says, pushing in, in, way too slowly, a smooth slide with not nearly enough friction, damnit, "that you get to be a brat about it, J. I know your momma taught you better manners than that."
"Dude," Justin says, gasps a little when JC thrusts just a bit harder and his hips twist just so, "can we NOT talk about my mom when we're fucking?"
JC giggles again, starts the long, slow slide out, and Justin grits his teeth and yanks hard at the cuffs. He could probably break them. He's strong and they're not, like, high quality bondage gear or whatever--they're PINK, for fuck's sake--but then JC would probably get all pissy and not finish fucking him at all, and that would be sad. That would be a tragic birthday.
"Now," JC says thoughtfully, and pulls back even more, just the head of his dick inside Justin, tiny, lazy thrusts and slow circles, and seriously--most annoying fuck EVER. "What do you say, Justin? Be polite." JC smiles. Justin wants to kill him. But, you know, AFTER he comes.
"Please! Christ, JC, please, just fucking fuck me already!"
JC frowns. "That wasn't, you know, very polite," he says, "and I think, at the end of the day, that, like, you maybe need some lessons in how to treat people right, J. Someday you're gonna be all rude to the wrong person and people will stop loving you and, you know, I just want you to be happy, man, so. Yeah."
JC pulls out completely, and Justin glares. He wants to yell, and maybe curse, because it's his fucking birthday, damnit, and okay, so maybe he is kind of a brat, but. It's his birthday! He's allowed!
And then JC's crawling up his body, straddling Justin's chest and rubbing his thumb over Justin's bottom lip. "Open up, baby," he says with a smile. "I think it's time for your mouth to do something useful, for once."
"Hmph," Justin says, because, oh, that's JC's dick in his mouth, and yeah, JC's not obedient at all, but really? Justin thinks that's maybe okay. He could probably use a lesson in manners, especially if it involves blowjobs.
*
Trace/JC | Justin finds a surprise in his dressing room | adult
As far as Justin knows, Trace isn't gay. Well, JC isn't gay either, but he's JC and Justin stopped trying to figure him out ten years ago. But Trace, as far as Justin knows, is definitely straight, has fucked lots and lots of girls and is always trying to get Justin to invite whatever actress he thinks is hot at the moment to a show. So he definitely likes girls, and he's never asked about guys. Which is why, when Justin walks in on him blowing JC in the dressing room, Justin is pretty fucking surprised and confused by the whole thing.
"Uh," he says, tries really hard to come up with something more clever and coherent and definitely mocking, but fails because, well. Trace is *blowing* JC. Like, totally sucking JC's dick. It's pretty insane.
"Give us a minute, mmm, J?" JC says, and does this little hip thrust-twist thing that sort of blows Justin's mind. Actually, the entire Trace-sucking-dick thing pretty much blows Justin's mind in general, so. Yeah.
"Uh..." Justin says again. He should probably, like, leave or something. But it's his dressing room, and the whole thing is pretty hypnotizing. Trace actually looks like he knows what he's doing. It's pretty fucked up.
"Dude," Trace says, pulling off of JC's dick with a lewd, wet smacking noise and turning to glare at Justin. "Get the fuck out, already."
"Yo, dude, fuck you, it's my dressing room!" Justin says. He doesn't really want to stay, but like, it's the principle of the thing. It's his dressing room. They should be the ones to leave.
"God, Timberlake, you're such a fucking brat sometimes," Trace says. He's glaring, and his mouth is very red. Justin tries not to stare at it.
JC makes a frustrated noise, and then Justin's trying really hard not to look at JC's dick all waving around in Trace's face like it's saying, 'Hey, what about me, I need some sucking!' Ten years in a band together and Justin's never seen JC's dick before now. Before his best friend since birth decided to go ahead and suck it. This is so fucked up. Justin doesn't leave, though. It's still his dressing room.
"Fine, be a bitch," Trace says, shrugs, and turns back to JC. Turns back to JC's dick and starts doing this licking thing that has JC making these funny little growly noises and, okay.
Okay so, as far as Justin knows, Trace isn't gay. Apparently, he just really, really likes JC's dick.
*
Justin meets Mayhem, part 1 | or, why Paris Hilton is a big whore
Justin's nervous, which is pretty weird because Justin's not a nervous guy. Anxious, sure, but that's like, a mental illness or whatever and as long as he always has some anti-bacterial hand wash on hand and is very careful not to talk out loud when he's counting stairs or ceiling tiles or books on shelves or marbles in jars or whatever, he can usually get away with it. This is something different, though, and he's nervous.
He's meeting them after the show. He's in Vancouver to perform and he knows they're going to be there because their publicist talked to his publicist to get them tickets and Justin casually mentioned to his publicist that they could maybe come back and meet him after the show and they are, so yeah. He's nervous.
He's sweaty and disgusting and Trace is pelting him with towels saying, "You fucking stink, Timberlake, you're so dirty!" when they walk in. His publicist--Tracy, he thinks her name is, but maybe Mary or Stacy, Jive is always sending someone new--introduces them, and they brought a friend. Actually, they brought fucking Chad Michael Murray, and Justin's not sure how he's supposed to feel about that, because, well. Murray fucked Paris Hilton when she was dating Nick, and Nick's a good guy even if Justin thinks he's semi-retarded, but that's like, even more reason to be pissed off on Nick's behalf. Who fucks a semi-retarded guy's girlfriend? Like, what kind of person does that? It's just not cool.
Also, he's wearing JC's scarf. The skull one that Justin hates so much. Justin narrows his eyes and smiles his blinding Justin smile. There are greetings and Jared babbles adorably about how awesome Justin is (which really, Justin never gets tired of hearing) and Jensen has freckles in real life, and it's all pretty cool. And then Justin turns to Chad, taking a long drink from his water bottle.
"So," he says, "I hear you stuck your dick in Paris Hilton. Was that before or after the herpes outbreak?"
*
Justin watches Supernatural | Everyone thinks Jared and Jensen are doing it
Justin doesn't watch much tv usually, but now that he's touring, it seems like that's all he does. He has a bunch of shows on DVD and he just watches them straight through on travel days, sitting in his bus lounge with a mug of tea wearing sweats that he thinks might have been JC's at one time, because he's pretty sure no one else he knows would even own pink sweats. Trace does stuff on his laptop and ignores the television. That is, until Justin turns on Supernatural.
Justin's pretty sure Lance sent it to him. Mainly because there's a note stuck on the first DVD case that says, "Brothers were never so gay for each other!!!" The words 'so gay' are underlined. Twice.
Justin spends most of the show watching and freaking out because really, Lance is right and it's pretty gay, and brothers should not touch each other that way like, ever, but also because it's a fucking scary show. After the bloody Mary episode, Justin refuses to close the door to the bathroom for a week and makes Trace stay with him in the dressing rooms at venues, because there's no way in hell he's going to be left alone around a mirror to die a horrible, bloody-eyed death.
The last few episodes come as a shock. Justin loves Gray's Anatomy, has been watching it for forever, and it's weird to see Denny being all kick ass and shit. And then he gets taken, and Justin starts to worry, because seriously, that actor has the shittiest luck in the world. The brothers are worried too, holed up in some skanky-ass motel room, and then--
"Whoa," Trace says, looking up from his laptop. Justin suspects that he's been watching sneakily this whole time. Trace tries to seem cool, but he loves bad tv just as much as Justin does. He'd probably watch Wifeswap if Justin let him. "Whoa," he says again. "Dude, those actors--they should, uh. They're supposed to be brothers?"
Justin nods and keeps his eyes on the screen, where Sam is freaking out and making grabby hands at Dean and for a second, it looks like they might start making out. It's pretty fucked up.
"You know what?" Justin says. "I think, you know, the actors should probably stop fucking each other if they want people to believe this whole brothers storyline."
"Yeah," Trace says, licks his lips. "For fucking serious." Then: "Hey, do you think you could get a meeting with the short one?"
"Uh, duh," Justin says. "But, man, the other one would probably kick my ass for trying to steal his boyfriend."
*
Justin worries about Lance, accidentally likes Fall Out Boy | vaguely lambs | schmoopy
At some point, Justin thinks, he's really going to have to find more work for Trace to do, just to keep him too busy to look at the fucking gossip blogs all day. It's like an addiction, Justin thinks, watching Trace click away on his laptop, smirking when he finds a really nasty story, narrowing his eyes whenever he sees something about Justin. For the most part, Justin ignores it, but like, seriously? Ever since the Breakup, it's gotten almost unbearable.
"Dude!" Trace says, looking up from his keyboard. "Oh man, this is classic, J, you gotta hear this."
"You know I hate that shit, man. I'd just, you know, rather not know what they're saying."
"No man, but this is funny. TMZ is, like, analyzing Lance's myspace for clues about his break up. Get this--they think Lance putting 'What Goes Around' on his profile is some kind of message to that guy."
"That guy has a name, dude," Justin says. Which, technically, is true, but Justin has worked really hard to forget it and anyway, most of it's unpronounceable so he pretty much stopped trying the second after they were introduced.
Justin forgets about for a week, but then they're back on the bus and Trace has his laptop open. It's playing a song Justin's never heard before, some emo-rock thing, but the lyrics are interesting, something about being an arms dealer with words as weapons. Justin sucks at lyrics, it's not, like, some sort of secret or whatever, and these are really good. Impressive. The song still isn't his style, it's too thrashy or whatever, but it has a good beat and it's really fucking catchy.
"Hey," Justin says. "Hey, what's that song? Play it again, dude."
Trace shrugs. "I don't know, just something on Lance's myspace."
Lance's myspace. Justin's starting to fucking hate myspace, he can't deal with the internet at all and Lance has become, like, some sort of internet whore, but now he can't stop thinking about it, either. Lance has that song on his myspace, the song about weapons in the form of words, and it's. It's weird. It means something, Justin thinks. Now he's worried.
He's worried and Justin really doesn't like to worry because it makes him break out and then he's not allowed to have chocolate again until his skin clears up and he has to wear, like, pounds of makeup, so he gives in and calls Lance. He gets Lance's voicemail.
"Hey, Lance. It's me. Um. Justin. Right. So, like, I was just wondering how you're doing and stuff. Because of the thing that happened, and because I'm a fantastic friend and I want to be support in your time of need or whatever. Call me. Or something. Bye. I love you. Bye."
Justin gets a text message an hour later.
I'm fine, you fucker. The songs don't mean anything, stop worrying.
A minute after that, he gets another one: I love you, too.