XOver, Howie/Justin - "Call."
It's tiny. I'm going to bed.
Call
"But enough about me," Justin said. "What do _you_ think of me?"
Howie turned his head and grinned at Justin, who was grinning back, lying on his side on Howie's couch, knees pulled up in a way that should have made him look smaller but didn't. Howie was sitting on the floor cross-legged, typing e-mails on his laptop and nodding and giving appropriate "uhhuh"s to Justin's litany of what he'd done in the past week - the interviews he'd given, the autographs he'd signed, the photoshoots he'd worked, all in support of his solo album.
"So," Justin said, nudging Howie's back with his knee. "Why don't you just call him already?"
"Call who?" Howie asked, frowning and thinking that maybe he'd missed something, which was entirely possible considering that he was only half-listening to Justin in the first place. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, because he was, but he knew that part of Justin's non-stop chatter was to fill the time until Howie was done with business for the night and they could go to bed.
"Call who? The Easter Bunny. Nick, man. Nick. You should call him."
Howie frowned. "Why?"
"Because you haven't talked to him in, like, over a week, and that's not right. If Chris went a week without calling me, I'd kick his ass."
"I'm not Chris," Howie said, mildly. "And Nick's not you."
"You can say that again," Justin snorted. "But, you know, we almost are, if you tilt your head sideways and squint. Especially you and Chris."
Howie raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Justin said, grin broadening. "You know, you've both got brown eyes and dark hair. Not to mention the being old and short thing."
"Does Chris kick your ass when you're being a pissy little bitch, too?"
"Ooh, temper," Justin said, laughing. "I hit a nerve. I love that. But, seriously, you should call him. Ask him how he's doing and how the press tour is going and stuff. Tell him you're proud of him. 'Cause I'm sure that he isn't doing the solo stuff just to piss you guys off. I mean, he probably wishes you were all there with him, sometimes. It's not like you guys have really come out and said anything about his cd."
"It's not like anyone's really come out and _asked_ us, Justin," Howie said. "And I've said lots. I do support him, you know."
"Well," Justin said, wavering. "Did you _tell_ him at least?"
"Sure," Howie said. "Where did this all come from, anyway? I didn't even think you liked Nick."
"He's not my best friend, but I don't _dislike_ him," Justin said, big hands resting on Howie's shoulders and tangling in the ends of his hair. "And you like him, and I like you, and I don't like it when you're not happy."
"I'm happy."
"Sure you are. You're with me, and I'm Justin Timberlake, so what's not to be happy about?" Justin said, chuckling when Howie snorted at him. "But I still think you'd be happier if you talked to Nick." He was quiet as Howie finished his e-mail and hit 'send,' then turned around, resting his chin on Justin's knee.
"Is this really about me and Nick, or about you and Chris?"
"I'm fine. Chris is fine. I just talked to him this afternoon. We're cool."
"I'm fine, too," Howie said.
"You're very fine," Justin agreed, sliding his fingers around the curve of Howie's jaw, tickling across the stubble and drifting up over the rosy swell of his lower lip.
"I should call Nick," Howie said.
"You should call Nick," Justin said, and kissed him. "In the morning."
Call
"But enough about me," Justin said. "What do _you_ think of me?"
Howie turned his head and grinned at Justin, who was grinning back, lying on his side on Howie's couch, knees pulled up in a way that should have made him look smaller but didn't. Howie was sitting on the floor cross-legged, typing e-mails on his laptop and nodding and giving appropriate "uhhuh"s to Justin's litany of what he'd done in the past week - the interviews he'd given, the autographs he'd signed, the photoshoots he'd worked, all in support of his solo album.
"So," Justin said, nudging Howie's back with his knee. "Why don't you just call him already?"
"Call who?" Howie asked, frowning and thinking that maybe he'd missed something, which was entirely possible considering that he was only half-listening to Justin in the first place. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, because he was, but he knew that part of Justin's non-stop chatter was to fill the time until Howie was done with business for the night and they could go to bed.
"Call who? The Easter Bunny. Nick, man. Nick. You should call him."
Howie frowned. "Why?"
"Because you haven't talked to him in, like, over a week, and that's not right. If Chris went a week without calling me, I'd kick his ass."
"I'm not Chris," Howie said, mildly. "And Nick's not you."
"You can say that again," Justin snorted. "But, you know, we almost are, if you tilt your head sideways and squint. Especially you and Chris."
Howie raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Justin said, grin broadening. "You know, you've both got brown eyes and dark hair. Not to mention the being old and short thing."
"Does Chris kick your ass when you're being a pissy little bitch, too?"
"Ooh, temper," Justin said, laughing. "I hit a nerve. I love that. But, seriously, you should call him. Ask him how he's doing and how the press tour is going and stuff. Tell him you're proud of him. 'Cause I'm sure that he isn't doing the solo stuff just to piss you guys off. I mean, he probably wishes you were all there with him, sometimes. It's not like you guys have really come out and said anything about his cd."
"It's not like anyone's really come out and _asked_ us, Justin," Howie said. "And I've said lots. I do support him, you know."
"Well," Justin said, wavering. "Did you _tell_ him at least?"
"Sure," Howie said. "Where did this all come from, anyway? I didn't even think you liked Nick."
"He's not my best friend, but I don't _dislike_ him," Justin said, big hands resting on Howie's shoulders and tangling in the ends of his hair. "And you like him, and I like you, and I don't like it when you're not happy."
"I'm happy."
"Sure you are. You're with me, and I'm Justin Timberlake, so what's not to be happy about?" Justin said, chuckling when Howie snorted at him. "But I still think you'd be happier if you talked to Nick." He was quiet as Howie finished his e-mail and hit 'send,' then turned around, resting his chin on Justin's knee.
"Is this really about me and Nick, or about you and Chris?"
"I'm fine. Chris is fine. I just talked to him this afternoon. We're cool."
"I'm fine, too," Howie said.
"You're very fine," Justin agreed, sliding his fingers around the curve of Howie's jaw, tickling across the stubble and drifting up over the rosy swell of his lower lip.
"I should call Nick," Howie said.
"You should call Nick," Justin said, and kissed him. "In the morning."