Beautiful 4 (Chris/Eminem)
Beautiful
Part: 4/?
by jayaslash
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: chris kirkpatrick/eminem
Word Count: 5,735 so far
Summary: Is it possible to write a sappy Emslash story that is both fluffy, angsty and realistic? Why, yes, it is!
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Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
4
May 18, 2002 - Orlando, Florida
“Chris, man, Chris,” JC said, trying to catch Chris’s eye, but Chris was zoned out. JC cast a quick glance in Justin’s direction, quizzical. Justin just shrugged.
Chris eyed the display on his phone after a moment and then looked away.
“Look, Chris,” Justin said, his face pinched and pale. “If you want me to do the ‘N Sync thing until the day I die, then I’ll do it. If that’s how you want it, I can call up the record company and Pharrell and everybody and just tell them fuck it.”
That shook Chris out of his reverie. He focused on Justin, took in his rigid features and frowned.
“What are you talking about?” Chris asked. “Wait. What are we talking about?”
JC rolled his eyes.
“I thought I was supposed to be the spacey one,” JC muttered and Chris gave him the finger.
“The solo elephant in the room,” Lance said, his voice reverberating even from beneath the pillow he had shoved over his face.
“Oh,” Chris said. “No, Justin. It’s perfect. It’s great. You’re going to take over the world. You’ll be the best thing to come out of Memphis since Elvis. You’ll be the first ex-boybander to walk on the moon.”
Lance removed the pillow from his face to shoot Chris a dark look.
“Second,” Chris piped in quickly, eyes moving swiftly. “The second ex-boybander to walk on the moon.”
Satisfied, Lance pulled the pillow back over his face and slouched back. Chris breathed a sigh of relief. When Lance got mad, bad things happened.
“So, I mean,” Justin got inarticulate when he was vulnerable. Chris smiled.
“Jup, it’s all good,” Joey said from his spot sprawled on the floor.
“We can’t do this forever,” JC chimed in. “We all have other things we’ve wanted to do forever.”
“I’m not like abandoning you guys, you know?” Justin said quietly. “And everybody’s really okay with this?”
Chris put a hand on Justin’s knee.
“Justin,” Chris said and Justin’s eyes sought his and held his gaze. “This is destiny. This is your destiny. This group wasn’t supposed to last forever. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. I’d like to say we’ll always be the best of friends, but things will be how they’ll be. None of us hates you. Life changes. Opportunities change. Maybe we’ll get together again later on, maybe we won’t. Every single one of us is a lucky motherfucker. Not one of us can complain.”
Justin nodded, dipping his head and staring at his hands. Chris sat back in the silence that followed, closing his eyes as everybody processed their thoughts. He knew for a fact that Lance was a bit pissy that things would be winding down, but he also knew that Lance wouldn’t say anything about it. He also knew that JC was dreaming of his own solo stuff, even if he wasn’t as vocal about it as Justin. And he also knew for a fact that Joey was dreaming of doing some serious Broadway at some point in the future. None of those things could happen if they were still living the ‘N Sync schedule. Plus, his fucking knees hurt. He was too old for this shit. But he wasn’t about to say that.
Chris wasn’t afraid of losing ‘N Sync. He’d lost that fear back when they’d had it out with Lou. And he wasn’t afraid of losing his friends. No matter how far apart life took them, Chris was certain that he’d have a place on every single one of their couches if he needed them. He was persistent like that. If he hadn’t been, the group never would have existed in the first place.
It was the sitting on his hands and not doing anything that got to him. It was waiting for the phone to ring that was driving him out of his fucking mind. It was remembering the way that Marshall had come apart in his arms that was making him go crazy.
Marshall had said that he would call. How fucking long was Chris supposed to wait?
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July 4, 2002 - Macomb County, Michigan
“Hailie, look,” Nathan shook his sparkler at Hailie and danced around, making her smile. Marshall cuffed his little brother on the head before walking around the pool and going over to watch Proof flip burgers on the grill.
Proof passed him a beer from the cooler and Marshall popped the top, standing there and staring at the grill. Proof bobbed his head to the music pouring out of the sound system and ignored Marshall the way he had for the past two months whenever Marshall went to outer space or wherever he went when he got lost in his head.
Marshall held the beer to his lips and, after a moment, took a swig, a familiar sensation of pure, perfect pleasure sweeping through him as he remembered in precise detail the feeling of being stuffed into Chris Kirkpatrick’s mouth. Then, he forcefully pushed the thought away.
It had been better than any fantasy he had conjured up. It had been, possibly, the best thing he had ever done in his life and it scared the shit out of him. Chris - and everything that Chris represented -was so far from what Marshall had planned for his life that he couldn’t get any further. And the way he felt, the vulnerability he felt, when he allowed himself a brief glimpse of being with Chris was too much. It was worse than Lincoln High School and any of the other shit that had gone on in his life before he’d taken control of things…except it was better in a lot of ways, too.
Because with Chris, Marshall felt things. He felt shit that he really didn’t think he ever would feel and as scary as that was, it was fucking exhilarating as hell, too. Waking up with that short, hairy, stubbly, warm body next to his. Looking into the deepest, darkest pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen. Feeling Chris’s fingers trailing along the bare skin at his hip. Cupping that warm, wide ass in the palm of his hands. Pressing his lips against the softest, sweetest-tasting pair he’d ever felt. Marshall closed his eyes and remembered. He could get lost in Chris.
“You alright, man?” Proof asked and Marshall opened his eyes, nodded and walked away from the grill.
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October 18, 2002 - New York City
“Chris.”
“Fuck you,” Chris said and hung up his cell phone. He opened one eye to glare at the bleary red numbers on the hotel alarm clock. 3:23 am. He closed his eye.
His cell phone chirped to life again. Chris let it go through to voicemail. Fuck Marshall.
A few seconds later, the ringing started again. Chris heaved a sigh, bitterness and happiness doing a tango in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and answered the phone.
“What?” he asked.
“Happy birthday,” Marshall’s voice came through the receiver, oddly sober. Chris sighed breathily and lay back, unable to force any words from his throat. What would he say? Why didn’t you call me? I missed you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please.
He cleared his throat.
“You mad at me?” Marshall asked. Chris rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“I missed you,” Marshall whispered, so quietly, a wisp of breath. Chris squeezed his eyes shut.
“Nobody around to suck your dick for you?” Chris asked sarcastically.
“Not like you do it,” Marshall admitted.
“Em, fuck off,” Chris said lowly.
“Don’t call me that,” Marshall said. “You fucking call me Marshall.”
“What are you doing?” Chris asked, exasperated.
“Like I fucking know,” Marshall said with a bitter laugh.
“Don’t fucking call me when you want your dick sucked every five months,” Chris told him, clipped and angry.
“I want to suck yours,” Marshall countered and Chris fell silent. They listened to each other breathing for a long time.
“I want you to be the first,” Marshall went on quietly. “The first everything. I’ve never tasted anybody before and I’m dreaming about it. The way you looked at me when you-”
“Marshall,” Chris cut him off, huskily.
“Where are you?” Marshall asked him.
“New York,” Chris said.
“Manhattan?” Marshall asked.
“SoHo,” Chris said. “The Grand.”
“I’m in Brooklyn,” Marshall breathed. “I can be there in 45 minutes.”
Chris swallowed hard, shaking.
“Okay,” Chris agreed.