Fic: True Love, Chris/JC, rated PG
Title: True Love
Fandom: Popslash
Pairing: Chris/JC
Rating: PG, but only for potty mouth.
Summary: Chris doesn't believe in true love.
Author's Note: Written for Awesome April. Check the link for a popslash story a day during April.
The thing was, Chris didn't believe in true love. The everlasting, at first sight, can't live without them and can't turn it off kind of love that movies and all the kids in his high school told him everyone would find one day? Bullshit. He'd watched his mom and his mom's friends while he was growing up. He'd seen love come and go. He'd seen it burn to ashes, too. He didn't believe in love that didn't end.
He did believe in love taking a lot of work, a lot of practice. The problem was that people got comfortable and forgot to practice, and then they fell flat on their face when they did the god-awful crouch-and-spin during the Bye Bye Bye portion of the relationship. Not that Chris had ever done that, metaphorically or otherwise. If there wasn't video, no one could prove anything, right?
Chris practiced at loving whoever he was with. With Dani, he had practiced so hard that he didn't notice when she stopped, and then it was too late. After that, he hadn't wanted anything to do with love, true or otherwise, for a long time. Instead, he'd just had "relationships" that mostly involved a lot of drinking and fucking and that he ended as soon as they looked like they might be headed in a Dani-esque direction. He focused the love he would have lavished on Dani onto his mom, his sisters, and the guys, which was great up until the day he found himself in love with Joey.
It was too bad Joey was the straightest guy ever to perform in musical theater, because otherwise, Chris might have been persuaded on the true love thing. They were just starting out on the Celebrity tour. Joey was the only one--besides JC, who was oblivious to those types of things--who didn't seem to mind Chris hanging off him. Or the doors, or the light fixtures, even though who knew Lance could turn that shade of red? It wasn't like Chris meant to land on his laptop. They should make the things more sturdy, anyway. But Joey thought it was funny. Joey also didn't mind that Chris was in love with him. He never did anything about it, but he would walk up behind Chris and wrap an arm around him when Chris was feeling stupid for picking the straightest guy in the band to fall in love with, and Chris would always feel better. Joey was an all-around awesome guy, and totally hot, and totally straight. So Chris practiced not being in love with him, and eventually it worked.
Justin, on the other hand, never knew that Chris was in love with him. Justin was just a rebound from Joey, though, so Chris didn't even spend much time trying not to be in love. He figured Justin would annoy the shit out of him one too many times, and that would be it. The camel-crushing straw wasn't long in coming; he'd only been in love with Justin for a week when Justin borrowed his Gameboy and somehow managed to leave it behind at the venue they weren't coming back to until the next tour. Chris was so irritable--and irritating--without something to distract him during their down time that no one except JC would talk to him, mostly because JC was in writing mode and didn't really notice what was going on around him as long as no one touched his notebook. Chris decided he was fed up with the lot of them.
He thought he was in love with Lance when Lance went to Russia for his cosmonaut training, but after a sleepless night or two, Chris realized he was just worried. Space shuttles blew up. He'd never, ever tell Lance how happy he was that the funding didn't come through for Lance to go to space. He just hugged Lance extra tight and said, "You'll get there," and didn't cross his fingers behind Lance's back no matter how much he wanted to. So, yeah, the love was there, but he wasn't in love.
The hiatus stretched into infinity before he could get around to falling in love with JC, which was probably for the best. JC was freakishly perceptive when he wanted to be. He'd probably spot Chris's crush before Chris did, and then there would be awkwardness. JC would probably want to talk about it, and then he'd write a song about it, and then Chris would hear about his unrequited love on the radio until the end of time. The thought gave him nightmares, and he avoided JC for almost a month. He doubted that JC noticed, given that he was writing for his solo album. By the time Chris had talked himself out of avoiding JC for a crush that hadn't even happened, JC was calling him to read snips of lyrics over the phone and hum random tunes. It was so familiar that Chris forgot all about trying not to fall in love and just somehow didn't.
When Jive started screwing JC around about the album, Chris flew out to L.A. He showed up on JC's doorstep with beer and many anatomically impossible names to call their employers. JC tried to play it cool at first, but after his fourth beer he was adding his own creative twist to the name-calling. The night ended with him slumped against Chris's shoulder, dead to the world but at least smiling a bit.
Then, like an alley cat pouncing on an innocent mouse that was just minding its own business, hunting food for the family and not hurting anyone, it landed with a crushing blow: Chris looked down at the goofy way JC's cheek was squished against his shoulder and fell in love.
With a startled yelp, Chris launched himself off the couch. Only JC's alcohol-induced bonelessness kept him from rolling to the floor. Instead, he collapsed face-first into the cushions, completely oblivious. Chris stared at him in horror. He looked absolutely ridiculous sprawled across the couch, and Chris was finding it cute. Chris was doomed.
Pausing only to rearrange JC so that he wouldn't suffocate on the couch cushions--he didn't deserve to die even if he had made Chris fall in love with him, the sneaky bastard--Chris grabbed his bags and headed for the airport. He spent the entire red-eye flight to Orlando listing reasons in his head why he had to not be in love with JC:
1. Love didn't last forever. Breaking up could end their friendship, and then Chris would never be able to forgive himself.
2. JC liked tall, skinny, JC-like supermodels. Chris was most emphatically not any of those things.
3. JC was all intellectual wine and smelly cheese, while Chris was domestic beer and store-brand Cheetos.
4. JC had written Space Cowboy. Chris still didn't understand that song after singing it more times than he cared to remember.
5. JC was a neat freak. He threw away his underwear, for christssake. How could Chris live with such a weirdo?
6. JC was living in L.A. Chris hated L.A.
7. Justin would get all jealous, because Justin felt like he should be the center of attention even though he was straight and would be freaked out by Chris falling in love with him if he knew about it. Chris would never hear the end of it.
8. Joey would have to threaten to break his kneecaps if he hurt JC, even though technically Chris would have to break his own kneecaps if he hurt JC--but that would probably be awkward, so he'd have to enlist Joey's help. It was nice to have the kind of friend who would help you break your own kneecaps if you broke your other friend's heart, but he couldn't help thinking that his relationship with Joey would be a bit strained after that.
9. Lance would smirk.
He also tried to ignore the sub-items that tried to sneak onto the list:
1a. What if they didn't break up?
2a. JC had also occasionally dated short, stubby people. JC really was all about the personality.
2b. Chris had an irritating personality.
3a. JC also liked beer, even if it was imported, and those gourmet Cheetos-like things he got were actually pretty good.
4a. Chris didn't think JC understood Space Cowboy either.
5a. Maybe JC would clean up after Chris, and then his kitchen wouldn't start getting that funny smell like it did between house-cleaner visits.
6a. JC hated L.A. too.
7a. Since when had Chris worried about what Justin thought?
8a. See 1a.
9a. Chris knew where Lance kept his "journal".
Arriving home, he stumbled straight into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. His dreams all seemed to have Chris trying frantically to get JC's attention while JC was somehow always looking the other way. Well, except for the one with the penguins, but Chris was pretty sure that one didn't mean anything. If it did, he was afraid to find out what.
He woke up to his Blackberry insistently informing him that he had messages. Five of them, all from JC. He hid the Blackberry under his pillow and went downstairs in search of coffee. The kitchen had the no-housekeeper-in-a-few-days smell, but he was used to ignoring it. One large cup of nectar of the gods later, he'd come up with a plan. He was going to avoid JC until the warm glow in the pit of his stomach went away. As plans went, it pretty much sucked, but it was all he had.
**
A week later, Chris was thinking he would have to reassess his plan. First of all, ignoring JC meant also ignoring Justin, Lance, and Joey, all of whom JC had sicced on him when Chris didn't answer JC's calls. That was doable. None of them were in Orlando at the moment, so all he had to do was not answer his phone. He did send JC a vague, "sorry I had to cut and run, something came up, talk to you later" email so that JC wouldn't think he was lying in a ditch somewhere. He wasn't trying to be mean.
Then JC started playing dirty. He must have called Chris's mom, who adored him far beyond any maternal feelings she'd ever had for her firstborn. Chris couldn't ignore calls from his mom, so he kept having to think fast and find ways to distract her when she said, "JC's worried about you, hon. Are you two fighting?" Luckily, she was always up for stories about her grandkids, but Chris's apparent obsession with them led him to having to make a family visit and dandle rugrats on his knee and other uncle-y things. It was a good thing he loved the little buggers more than life itself, or he would have been put out at the interruption of his carefully planned schedule of not thinking about JC.
He arrived home tired but happy. He didn't notice that he wasn't thinking about JC until he opened the front door and saw JC sitting on his couch, reading a book he definitely hadn't found in Chris's house. Chris liked more boobs on his front covers.
As JC set the book down and looked at him, Chris realized three things: 1) his plan to fall out of love with JC was not working; 2) JC was very, very kissable; and 3) Chris was in big trouble.
"So," JC said conversationally, "get your phone fixed yet?"
Yep. Lots and lots of trouble.
"Hey, C, when did you get to town?" Chris tried for cheery obliviousness. "I've been meaning to call you. Just been really busy. Got a couple of indy bands I've been working with. One of them has real potential. You should come watch them if you're going to be in town long enough."
"I just want to know," JC stood up, and fuck, it was annoying how such a skinny guy could loom so effectively. It was because Chris was short, he just knew it, "why you're avoiding me like I have the fucking plague or something."
"What?" Wide-eyed innocence. It had worked when he was three.
"You're not three years old anymore, Chris. The anime look doesn't work for you. Why aren't you talking to me?"
JC's apparent telepathy was still freaky after all these years. Someday Chris would learn how to block him out. Or make a nice tinfoil hat, maybe. Chris looked good in metallic colors.
"I'm not not talking to you. I've just been busy, man. And then Mom wanted me to come visit, so that took up the whole weekend. It's nothing personal, I swear."
JC just glared at him. Then JC's eyes widened, and he said, "Oh," like he'd been punched in the gut.
"What?" Chris asked suspiciously. JC had made that same sound before squirreling himself away and coming up with Space Cowboy.
"So you finally got around to me."
"What?"
"The Crush. You finally got around to me. Don't worry, cat, I won't hold you to it."
Chris wasn't sure what disturbed him more, the way JC went from looming to collapsed on the couch like a balloon that had run out of air, or the fact that JC not only knew about his crushes, but referred to them with capital letters. Chris had heard them in his voice.
"What crush?" he tried without much hope.
JC gave him a look that said he wasn't buying it.
"Ever since Dani, you've been going between the four of us, one crush after another. I was wondering when you'd get to me."
"I didn't--"
Chris trailed off in face of JC's raised eyebrows. He'd never been good at lying to the guys. Well, not about important things. He could lie like a rug when it came to convincing Justin that Joey was the one who accidentally spilled hair dye on his sneakers.
"It's okay," JC repeated. "I was starting to feel left out."
Chris sat gingerly on the sofa beside him, not entirely sure he was as forgiven as JC was saying.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Too bad."
Chris blinked. That wasn't what he expected. And then JC looked at him, and Chris might not have JC's freaky mind-reading powers, but there were some things that were just clear as a summer sky when you knew to look for them.
"You...I...What? You never said."
JC rolled his eyes. "Chris, I read my songs to you. Over the phone. Before they were even finished."
"Yeah, but--"
"I didn't kill you when you spilled coffee on my notebook."
Chris frowned. "Which time?"
"Every time."
"Oh."
JC was starting to look exasperated. "Chris. Dude. I watched you play Super Mario Brothers for hours when you were trying not to freak out about Lance dying in a horrible rocket explosion. I think I still have that music stuck in my head."
Oh. Oh.
"You've been practicing on me."
For once, it was JC looking confused.
"What?"
"Never mind."
It really didn't matter, because explaining would take too long and Chris had better things to do. Like find out if JC was as kissable as he looked.
He was.
Fandom: Popslash
Pairing: Chris/JC
Rating: PG, but only for potty mouth.
Summary: Chris doesn't believe in true love.
Author's Note: Written for Awesome April. Check the link for a popslash story a day during April.
The thing was, Chris didn't believe in true love. The everlasting, at first sight, can't live without them and can't turn it off kind of love that movies and all the kids in his high school told him everyone would find one day? Bullshit. He'd watched his mom and his mom's friends while he was growing up. He'd seen love come and go. He'd seen it burn to ashes, too. He didn't believe in love that didn't end.
He did believe in love taking a lot of work, a lot of practice. The problem was that people got comfortable and forgot to practice, and then they fell flat on their face when they did the god-awful crouch-and-spin during the Bye Bye Bye portion of the relationship. Not that Chris had ever done that, metaphorically or otherwise. If there wasn't video, no one could prove anything, right?
Chris practiced at loving whoever he was with. With Dani, he had practiced so hard that he didn't notice when she stopped, and then it was too late. After that, he hadn't wanted anything to do with love, true or otherwise, for a long time. Instead, he'd just had "relationships" that mostly involved a lot of drinking and fucking and that he ended as soon as they looked like they might be headed in a Dani-esque direction. He focused the love he would have lavished on Dani onto his mom, his sisters, and the guys, which was great up until the day he found himself in love with Joey.
It was too bad Joey was the straightest guy ever to perform in musical theater, because otherwise, Chris might have been persuaded on the true love thing. They were just starting out on the Celebrity tour. Joey was the only one--besides JC, who was oblivious to those types of things--who didn't seem to mind Chris hanging off him. Or the doors, or the light fixtures, even though who knew Lance could turn that shade of red? It wasn't like Chris meant to land on his laptop. They should make the things more sturdy, anyway. But Joey thought it was funny. Joey also didn't mind that Chris was in love with him. He never did anything about it, but he would walk up behind Chris and wrap an arm around him when Chris was feeling stupid for picking the straightest guy in the band to fall in love with, and Chris would always feel better. Joey was an all-around awesome guy, and totally hot, and totally straight. So Chris practiced not being in love with him, and eventually it worked.
Justin, on the other hand, never knew that Chris was in love with him. Justin was just a rebound from Joey, though, so Chris didn't even spend much time trying not to be in love. He figured Justin would annoy the shit out of him one too many times, and that would be it. The camel-crushing straw wasn't long in coming; he'd only been in love with Justin for a week when Justin borrowed his Gameboy and somehow managed to leave it behind at the venue they weren't coming back to until the next tour. Chris was so irritable--and irritating--without something to distract him during their down time that no one except JC would talk to him, mostly because JC was in writing mode and didn't really notice what was going on around him as long as no one touched his notebook. Chris decided he was fed up with the lot of them.
He thought he was in love with Lance when Lance went to Russia for his cosmonaut training, but after a sleepless night or two, Chris realized he was just worried. Space shuttles blew up. He'd never, ever tell Lance how happy he was that the funding didn't come through for Lance to go to space. He just hugged Lance extra tight and said, "You'll get there," and didn't cross his fingers behind Lance's back no matter how much he wanted to. So, yeah, the love was there, but he wasn't in love.
The hiatus stretched into infinity before he could get around to falling in love with JC, which was probably for the best. JC was freakishly perceptive when he wanted to be. He'd probably spot Chris's crush before Chris did, and then there would be awkwardness. JC would probably want to talk about it, and then he'd write a song about it, and then Chris would hear about his unrequited love on the radio until the end of time. The thought gave him nightmares, and he avoided JC for almost a month. He doubted that JC noticed, given that he was writing for his solo album. By the time Chris had talked himself out of avoiding JC for a crush that hadn't even happened, JC was calling him to read snips of lyrics over the phone and hum random tunes. It was so familiar that Chris forgot all about trying not to fall in love and just somehow didn't.
When Jive started screwing JC around about the album, Chris flew out to L.A. He showed up on JC's doorstep with beer and many anatomically impossible names to call their employers. JC tried to play it cool at first, but after his fourth beer he was adding his own creative twist to the name-calling. The night ended with him slumped against Chris's shoulder, dead to the world but at least smiling a bit.
Then, like an alley cat pouncing on an innocent mouse that was just minding its own business, hunting food for the family and not hurting anyone, it landed with a crushing blow: Chris looked down at the goofy way JC's cheek was squished against his shoulder and fell in love.
With a startled yelp, Chris launched himself off the couch. Only JC's alcohol-induced bonelessness kept him from rolling to the floor. Instead, he collapsed face-first into the cushions, completely oblivious. Chris stared at him in horror. He looked absolutely ridiculous sprawled across the couch, and Chris was finding it cute. Chris was doomed.
Pausing only to rearrange JC so that he wouldn't suffocate on the couch cushions--he didn't deserve to die even if he had made Chris fall in love with him, the sneaky bastard--Chris grabbed his bags and headed for the airport. He spent the entire red-eye flight to Orlando listing reasons in his head why he had to not be in love with JC:
1. Love didn't last forever. Breaking up could end their friendship, and then Chris would never be able to forgive himself.
2. JC liked tall, skinny, JC-like supermodels. Chris was most emphatically not any of those things.
3. JC was all intellectual wine and smelly cheese, while Chris was domestic beer and store-brand Cheetos.
4. JC had written Space Cowboy. Chris still didn't understand that song after singing it more times than he cared to remember.
5. JC was a neat freak. He threw away his underwear, for christssake. How could Chris live with such a weirdo?
6. JC was living in L.A. Chris hated L.A.
7. Justin would get all jealous, because Justin felt like he should be the center of attention even though he was straight and would be freaked out by Chris falling in love with him if he knew about it. Chris would never hear the end of it.
8. Joey would have to threaten to break his kneecaps if he hurt JC, even though technically Chris would have to break his own kneecaps if he hurt JC--but that would probably be awkward, so he'd have to enlist Joey's help. It was nice to have the kind of friend who would help you break your own kneecaps if you broke your other friend's heart, but he couldn't help thinking that his relationship with Joey would be a bit strained after that.
9. Lance would smirk.
He also tried to ignore the sub-items that tried to sneak onto the list:
1a. What if they didn't break up?
2a. JC had also occasionally dated short, stubby people. JC really was all about the personality.
2b. Chris had an irritating personality.
3a. JC also liked beer, even if it was imported, and those gourmet Cheetos-like things he got were actually pretty good.
4a. Chris didn't think JC understood Space Cowboy either.
5a. Maybe JC would clean up after Chris, and then his kitchen wouldn't start getting that funny smell like it did between house-cleaner visits.
6a. JC hated L.A. too.
7a. Since when had Chris worried about what Justin thought?
8a. See 1a.
9a. Chris knew where Lance kept his "journal".
Arriving home, he stumbled straight into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. His dreams all seemed to have Chris trying frantically to get JC's attention while JC was somehow always looking the other way. Well, except for the one with the penguins, but Chris was pretty sure that one didn't mean anything. If it did, he was afraid to find out what.
He woke up to his Blackberry insistently informing him that he had messages. Five of them, all from JC. He hid the Blackberry under his pillow and went downstairs in search of coffee. The kitchen had the no-housekeeper-in-a-few-days smell, but he was used to ignoring it. One large cup of nectar of the gods later, he'd come up with a plan. He was going to avoid JC until the warm glow in the pit of his stomach went away. As plans went, it pretty much sucked, but it was all he had.
**
A week later, Chris was thinking he would have to reassess his plan. First of all, ignoring JC meant also ignoring Justin, Lance, and Joey, all of whom JC had sicced on him when Chris didn't answer JC's calls. That was doable. None of them were in Orlando at the moment, so all he had to do was not answer his phone. He did send JC a vague, "sorry I had to cut and run, something came up, talk to you later" email so that JC wouldn't think he was lying in a ditch somewhere. He wasn't trying to be mean.
Then JC started playing dirty. He must have called Chris's mom, who adored him far beyond any maternal feelings she'd ever had for her firstborn. Chris couldn't ignore calls from his mom, so he kept having to think fast and find ways to distract her when she said, "JC's worried about you, hon. Are you two fighting?" Luckily, she was always up for stories about her grandkids, but Chris's apparent obsession with them led him to having to make a family visit and dandle rugrats on his knee and other uncle-y things. It was a good thing he loved the little buggers more than life itself, or he would have been put out at the interruption of his carefully planned schedule of not thinking about JC.
He arrived home tired but happy. He didn't notice that he wasn't thinking about JC until he opened the front door and saw JC sitting on his couch, reading a book he definitely hadn't found in Chris's house. Chris liked more boobs on his front covers.
As JC set the book down and looked at him, Chris realized three things: 1) his plan to fall out of love with JC was not working; 2) JC was very, very kissable; and 3) Chris was in big trouble.
"So," JC said conversationally, "get your phone fixed yet?"
Yep. Lots and lots of trouble.
"Hey, C, when did you get to town?" Chris tried for cheery obliviousness. "I've been meaning to call you. Just been really busy. Got a couple of indy bands I've been working with. One of them has real potential. You should come watch them if you're going to be in town long enough."
"I just want to know," JC stood up, and fuck, it was annoying how such a skinny guy could loom so effectively. It was because Chris was short, he just knew it, "why you're avoiding me like I have the fucking plague or something."
"What?" Wide-eyed innocence. It had worked when he was three.
"You're not three years old anymore, Chris. The anime look doesn't work for you. Why aren't you talking to me?"
JC's apparent telepathy was still freaky after all these years. Someday Chris would learn how to block him out. Or make a nice tinfoil hat, maybe. Chris looked good in metallic colors.
"I'm not not talking to you. I've just been busy, man. And then Mom wanted me to come visit, so that took up the whole weekend. It's nothing personal, I swear."
JC just glared at him. Then JC's eyes widened, and he said, "Oh," like he'd been punched in the gut.
"What?" Chris asked suspiciously. JC had made that same sound before squirreling himself away and coming up with Space Cowboy.
"So you finally got around to me."
"What?"
"The Crush. You finally got around to me. Don't worry, cat, I won't hold you to it."
Chris wasn't sure what disturbed him more, the way JC went from looming to collapsed on the couch like a balloon that had run out of air, or the fact that JC not only knew about his crushes, but referred to them with capital letters. Chris had heard them in his voice.
"What crush?" he tried without much hope.
JC gave him a look that said he wasn't buying it.
"Ever since Dani, you've been going between the four of us, one crush after another. I was wondering when you'd get to me."
"I didn't--"
Chris trailed off in face of JC's raised eyebrows. He'd never been good at lying to the guys. Well, not about important things. He could lie like a rug when it came to convincing Justin that Joey was the one who accidentally spilled hair dye on his sneakers.
"It's okay," JC repeated. "I was starting to feel left out."
Chris sat gingerly on the sofa beside him, not entirely sure he was as forgiven as JC was saying.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Too bad."
Chris blinked. That wasn't what he expected. And then JC looked at him, and Chris might not have JC's freaky mind-reading powers, but there were some things that were just clear as a summer sky when you knew to look for them.
"You...I...What? You never said."
JC rolled his eyes. "Chris, I read my songs to you. Over the phone. Before they were even finished."
"Yeah, but--"
"I didn't kill you when you spilled coffee on my notebook."
Chris frowned. "Which time?"
"Every time."
"Oh."
JC was starting to look exasperated. "Chris. Dude. I watched you play Super Mario Brothers for hours when you were trying not to freak out about Lance dying in a horrible rocket explosion. I think I still have that music stuck in my head."
Oh. Oh.
"You've been practicing on me."
For once, it was JC looking confused.
"What?"
"Never mind."
It really didn't matter, because explaining would take too long and Chris had better things to do. Like find out if JC was as kissable as he looked.
He was.