Choey
is like hot chocolate - it's just warm, and comforting, and sweet, and it makes you feel good. Especially with marshmallows. And whipped cream.
Um.
Yes. Anyway. I totally [heart] the sweater Chris is wearing in the Puppies poster on my wall. Of course I can't find a pic of it anywhere on the 'net to link, but it's the one where JC's wearing the -
Oh, just read the story. You'll figure it out.
Cuddly
It was a really ordinary photo shoot. Joey didn't much care how they wanted him to stand, or kneel, or lean, and would wear pretty much anything, as long as it wasn't pink and frilly or involved some sort of a thong. Now that they'd adjusted to the goatee and he hadn't had the urge to go get anything else pierced, shoots were pretty simple for him. Justin, as usual, took forever to get his curls 'just right,' Lance, of all people, had been ready for about an hour, and JC was wearing what Joey was sure were the most hideous pair of pants _ever_. While young girls went around dusting them with small brushes, Joey grabbed Lance and chased after JC, yelling "let's play Twister!" and making them both laugh.
And then Chris came in, wearing this sweater.
He caught on to the game straight away, and grabbed JC around the waist and swung him around, yelling "Left hand, green!" - a simple thing to do, since JC, even with his height advantage, weighed about the same amount as the average domestic house cat. Lance cracked up, and so did JC, who was trying _not_ to laugh and yell at Chris to put him _down_ already, and then they all made fun of Justin when he whined, "Come _on_, let's get this _over_ with!" since they'd all been waiting for him to be ready in the first place.
They stood around smiling, changing positions, cracking each other up and jostling around until the photographer couldn't stand it any more and let them go home. Joey smiled gamely and posed like the monkey he was paid to be, as always, but he was more muted than usual. He thought he'd gotten away with it, until Lance touched him on the elbow and asked him if he was okay.
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Why?"
"I dunno," Lance said. "You seem a little - off. Something wrong?"
Joey shook his head. "No."
"Okay." Lance looked like he didn't believe him, but he didn't push it. Lance was usually good like that; he figured if there was anything you wanted him to know, eventually you'd just break down and tell him.
It was one of the few times that Joey really regretted that they didn't get to keep the clothes from the photo shoot.
They laughed some more when the proofs came back, because JC really did look like a big doofus in those pants and they all knew the teeny girls would _still_ scream for him and buy the posters anyway, and Lance didn't think his hair looked right - but Chris just smacked him and told him that it _always_ looked like that, and told him to watch out or he'd turn into Justin, whereupon Justin chased Chris around the room until he caught him, held him down, and gave him a pinkbelly.
Chris was yelling to Joey to "get Justin _off_ meeeee!" but Joey didn't even notice. He was still looking at the proofs, even though they'd already picked out the one for the poster and the two for the magnets.
Joey was looking at Chris, trying to figure out what it _was_ about that picture. He looked like - like Chris. Same as always, except maybe less spazzy than usual. Yeah, his hair looked good, he wasn't making any space-alien faces, and his facial hair didn't make him look vaguely Chinese, for a change, and - and okay, he looked good in that sweater. No big deal.
It was just a sweater.
Joey stole one of the proof sheets when no-one was looking.
Chris was the absolute _biggest_ baby when it came to his birthday. He always threw himself a big party the day before and invited everyone he'd ever met in his life, half of whom usually showed up for it. This one was special, of course - twenty-nine. Justin called it his last birthday before he had to start lying about his age, and Joey helped Chris tackle him and hold him down and tickle him until Justin was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe and then threatened to throw up on both of them. Even then, they made him say "Uncle." Then, Chris pulled Justin up, jumped on his back, and rode him over to the bar, where he stood up and made everyone promise to get really, really drunk, in honour of his birthday.
Everyone did, pretty much.
Despite the fact that he was a millionaire and could buy himself pretty much anything he could ever conceivably want, Chris was remarkably easy to buy a present for. He loved _everything_, and always yelled "presents!" when a new package was handed over to him, like he really _was_ a five-year-old stuck in his adult's body. You just wanted to buy him more presents, because he loved them so, and Joey knew it had a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't grown up with much of anything, so everything was special. There were a lot of birthdays to make up for.
People bought him records and toys and adult toys (that would be Justin) and music and hell, the record label even got him a car. It was a good birthday.
Joey didn't give him his present at the party. Chris didn't even notice.
They all got really, really drunk that night.
There was absolutely no reason that Joey should have gotten up before nightfall the next day. There was absolutely no reason why he should even have _acknowledged the existence_ of the next day, except that it was Chris's birthday. And Joey still hadn't given him his present.
He looked at it about a hundred times, and thought it looked pretty stupid. It was a stupid present, and Chris probably wouldn't even like it, except for the fact that it was _Chris_ and it was a _present_, and those two things went together like linguini and clam sauce. So. He finally picked up the present, in its store-wrapped box, and put it in his car and drove over to Chris's house.
"Hey, Joe," Chris yawned, all bed-head and hungover. "'Sup?"
"Nothing." Joey hugged him. "Happy birthday, old man."
"Fuck off," Chris said, but he laughed and hugged back. "At least _I_ look young and spry for my age," he added, poking Joey in the chest. "Unlike, _some_ people, who shall remain nameless, Joseph Anthony Fatone _Junior_."
Joey flipped him off. "I think you've confused 'acting childish' with 'looking young,'" he said.
Chris giggled. "Yeah, whatever. Damn. I thought someone buried both of us in a shallow grave last night."
"Wishful thinking," Joey agreed. "Coffee?"
"Nectar of the gods," Chris said, waving at the kitchen. "Gonna shower. Make yourself at home."
Joey was a little surprised that there wasn't anyone else there. Chris had been making random Dani noises for the last little while, but apparently that hadn't happened; Joey chalked it up to either loneliness or nostalgia - or maybe both. He thought maybe Chris's mom would be around, then he remembered Chris saying something about 'doing family stuff' on the weekend.
So that meant he was here alone, except for the dogs. And even they seemed to be feeling the after-effects of the party; instead of their normally boisterous-to-the-point-of-annoying behavior - modelled mostly on their owner, JC once said - they were piled together in a corner, asleep.
He was only halfway through his first cup of coffee when Chris emerged, with damp, spiky hair, sweatpants, and a ratty old t-shirt on, still yawning. "Damn. I could go back to bed," he said.
"I could go - "
"Nah," Chris said. "S'okay." He poured coffee, and leaned back against the counter.
Joey pushed the present over at him. "Happy Birthday," he said.
"Presents!" Chris shrieked. He jumped into Joey's arms and kissed him on the cheek. "I wuv you, Joey."
"Get off me," Joey laughed, dumping him down. He wiped his cheek off with the back of his hand.
"Whatya get me, whadya get me - " Chris opened the box, looked at the present, looked at Joey, and looked at the present again. "It's a sweater," he said.
"Yeah." Joey started to feel really stupid, again.
"Thanks, mom, it's just what I always wanted," Chris laughed. He pulled it out of the box. "It's nice."
"You don't like it. I can take it back - "
"No," Chris said. "I like it. It just - it's - it seems." He looked up at Joey, frowning. "Familiar. Did I get you this for Christmas a couple of years ago?"
"No," Joey said, smacking him. "It's - you - um. You wore it at a photo shoot. Couple of months ago," he mumbled.
"Yeah?"
"The one where JC had the Twister pants."
The memory finally dawned. "Oh! Yeah. I remember. And you liked it so much you decided to buy it for _me_?"
"Well, um. I thought it. When you wore it. You just - " Joey wondered why his tongue wasn't cooperating with him. He wondered why he hadn't bought Chris the collected works of Blondie on vinyl, instead. "You looked - "
"Totally hot?" Chris suggested, grinning.
Joey shoved him, then shrugged. "I don't know. Comfortable. Cozy. Just, you know - _good_. Sort of - cuddly."
Chris wrinkled his nose. "But in a very _hot_, cuddly-male-supermodel way, right?"
Joey rolled his eyes. "Oh, _yeah_."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Joseph," Chris said. He pulled the sweater on over his ratty t-shirt and sidled up to Joey, pushing him up against the counter, and batted his eyelashes.
"Freak," Joey said, flicking him between the eyes.
"You think I'm _pretty_, you want to _date_ me," Chris sing-songed.
"Wait - what's that from?"
"'Miss Congeniality,'" Chris said.
"Chick flick," Joey sniffed.
"Sandra Bullock with a gun," Chris said, indignant at the attack on his masculinity.
"Ah. Yes," Joey agreed. "You're still a freak," he said.
"_You_ still think I'm pretty."
Joey shrugged. "Yeah. But only in that sweater."
"Then I'll never take it off again."
"Ugh. I may get over it if you never wash it, crusty boy."
"I'll take it in the shower with me. It'll be fine." Chris rubbed his hand over it. "It _is_ really soft," he said.
"Yeah," Joey agreed.
Chris looked at him, and cocked an eyebrow. "Wanna feel?"
"Um." Thousands of possible answers occurred to him in that second, but only one came out. "Yeah."
"Yeah?"
Joey nodded.
Chris reached over and pulled up the hem of Joey's shirt.
"Wait," Joey said. "What - ?"
"If you really want to feel, you've gotta do it right," Chris insisted, tugging him forward.
Joey moved, raised his arms, and let Chris take his shirt off. He felt kind of stupid standing in Chris's kitchen half-naked, then Chris pushed into his arms and hugged him.
And, damn, not only did it _look_ good on him, but the sweater really _was_ soft, and warm, and now it smelled like Chris's soap and -
Chris looked at him, grinning. "Is that another present for me?"
"Um."
"Let me guess - the gift that keeps on giving?"
"Um."
Chris took Joey's hand. "Come on. Want to unwrap my other present somewhere more comfortable." He tugged him forward, finally getting Joey to move. "I'll keep the sweater on."
And later, Joey wondered if it was really the _sweater_ that he found so comfortable, and cozy, and cuddly.
And, as Chris would remind him, _totally_ hot.
Um.
Yes. Anyway. I totally [heart] the sweater Chris is wearing in the Puppies poster on my wall. Of course I can't find a pic of it anywhere on the 'net to link, but it's the one where JC's wearing the -
Oh, just read the story. You'll figure it out.
Cuddly
It was a really ordinary photo shoot. Joey didn't much care how they wanted him to stand, or kneel, or lean, and would wear pretty much anything, as long as it wasn't pink and frilly or involved some sort of a thong. Now that they'd adjusted to the goatee and he hadn't had the urge to go get anything else pierced, shoots were pretty simple for him. Justin, as usual, took forever to get his curls 'just right,' Lance, of all people, had been ready for about an hour, and JC was wearing what Joey was sure were the most hideous pair of pants _ever_. While young girls went around dusting them with small brushes, Joey grabbed Lance and chased after JC, yelling "let's play Twister!" and making them both laugh.
And then Chris came in, wearing this sweater.
He caught on to the game straight away, and grabbed JC around the waist and swung him around, yelling "Left hand, green!" - a simple thing to do, since JC, even with his height advantage, weighed about the same amount as the average domestic house cat. Lance cracked up, and so did JC, who was trying _not_ to laugh and yell at Chris to put him _down_ already, and then they all made fun of Justin when he whined, "Come _on_, let's get this _over_ with!" since they'd all been waiting for him to be ready in the first place.
They stood around smiling, changing positions, cracking each other up and jostling around until the photographer couldn't stand it any more and let them go home. Joey smiled gamely and posed like the monkey he was paid to be, as always, but he was more muted than usual. He thought he'd gotten away with it, until Lance touched him on the elbow and asked him if he was okay.
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Why?"
"I dunno," Lance said. "You seem a little - off. Something wrong?"
Joey shook his head. "No."
"Okay." Lance looked like he didn't believe him, but he didn't push it. Lance was usually good like that; he figured if there was anything you wanted him to know, eventually you'd just break down and tell him.
It was one of the few times that Joey really regretted that they didn't get to keep the clothes from the photo shoot.
They laughed some more when the proofs came back, because JC really did look like a big doofus in those pants and they all knew the teeny girls would _still_ scream for him and buy the posters anyway, and Lance didn't think his hair looked right - but Chris just smacked him and told him that it _always_ looked like that, and told him to watch out or he'd turn into Justin, whereupon Justin chased Chris around the room until he caught him, held him down, and gave him a pinkbelly.
Chris was yelling to Joey to "get Justin _off_ meeeee!" but Joey didn't even notice. He was still looking at the proofs, even though they'd already picked out the one for the poster and the two for the magnets.
Joey was looking at Chris, trying to figure out what it _was_ about that picture. He looked like - like Chris. Same as always, except maybe less spazzy than usual. Yeah, his hair looked good, he wasn't making any space-alien faces, and his facial hair didn't make him look vaguely Chinese, for a change, and - and okay, he looked good in that sweater. No big deal.
It was just a sweater.
Joey stole one of the proof sheets when no-one was looking.
Chris was the absolute _biggest_ baby when it came to his birthday. He always threw himself a big party the day before and invited everyone he'd ever met in his life, half of whom usually showed up for it. This one was special, of course - twenty-nine. Justin called it his last birthday before he had to start lying about his age, and Joey helped Chris tackle him and hold him down and tickle him until Justin was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe and then threatened to throw up on both of them. Even then, they made him say "Uncle." Then, Chris pulled Justin up, jumped on his back, and rode him over to the bar, where he stood up and made everyone promise to get really, really drunk, in honour of his birthday.
Everyone did, pretty much.
Despite the fact that he was a millionaire and could buy himself pretty much anything he could ever conceivably want, Chris was remarkably easy to buy a present for. He loved _everything_, and always yelled "presents!" when a new package was handed over to him, like he really _was_ a five-year-old stuck in his adult's body. You just wanted to buy him more presents, because he loved them so, and Joey knew it had a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't grown up with much of anything, so everything was special. There were a lot of birthdays to make up for.
People bought him records and toys and adult toys (that would be Justin) and music and hell, the record label even got him a car. It was a good birthday.
Joey didn't give him his present at the party. Chris didn't even notice.
They all got really, really drunk that night.
There was absolutely no reason that Joey should have gotten up before nightfall the next day. There was absolutely no reason why he should even have _acknowledged the existence_ of the next day, except that it was Chris's birthday. And Joey still hadn't given him his present.
He looked at it about a hundred times, and thought it looked pretty stupid. It was a stupid present, and Chris probably wouldn't even like it, except for the fact that it was _Chris_ and it was a _present_, and those two things went together like linguini and clam sauce. So. He finally picked up the present, in its store-wrapped box, and put it in his car and drove over to Chris's house.
"Hey, Joe," Chris yawned, all bed-head and hungover. "'Sup?"
"Nothing." Joey hugged him. "Happy birthday, old man."
"Fuck off," Chris said, but he laughed and hugged back. "At least _I_ look young and spry for my age," he added, poking Joey in the chest. "Unlike, _some_ people, who shall remain nameless, Joseph Anthony Fatone _Junior_."
Joey flipped him off. "I think you've confused 'acting childish' with 'looking young,'" he said.
Chris giggled. "Yeah, whatever. Damn. I thought someone buried both of us in a shallow grave last night."
"Wishful thinking," Joey agreed. "Coffee?"
"Nectar of the gods," Chris said, waving at the kitchen. "Gonna shower. Make yourself at home."
Joey was a little surprised that there wasn't anyone else there. Chris had been making random Dani noises for the last little while, but apparently that hadn't happened; Joey chalked it up to either loneliness or nostalgia - or maybe both. He thought maybe Chris's mom would be around, then he remembered Chris saying something about 'doing family stuff' on the weekend.
So that meant he was here alone, except for the dogs. And even they seemed to be feeling the after-effects of the party; instead of their normally boisterous-to-the-point-of-annoying behavior - modelled mostly on their owner, JC once said - they were piled together in a corner, asleep.
He was only halfway through his first cup of coffee when Chris emerged, with damp, spiky hair, sweatpants, and a ratty old t-shirt on, still yawning. "Damn. I could go back to bed," he said.
"I could go - "
"Nah," Chris said. "S'okay." He poured coffee, and leaned back against the counter.
Joey pushed the present over at him. "Happy Birthday," he said.
"Presents!" Chris shrieked. He jumped into Joey's arms and kissed him on the cheek. "I wuv you, Joey."
"Get off me," Joey laughed, dumping him down. He wiped his cheek off with the back of his hand.
"Whatya get me, whadya get me - " Chris opened the box, looked at the present, looked at Joey, and looked at the present again. "It's a sweater," he said.
"Yeah." Joey started to feel really stupid, again.
"Thanks, mom, it's just what I always wanted," Chris laughed. He pulled it out of the box. "It's nice."
"You don't like it. I can take it back - "
"No," Chris said. "I like it. It just - it's - it seems." He looked up at Joey, frowning. "Familiar. Did I get you this for Christmas a couple of years ago?"
"No," Joey said, smacking him. "It's - you - um. You wore it at a photo shoot. Couple of months ago," he mumbled.
"Yeah?"
"The one where JC had the Twister pants."
The memory finally dawned. "Oh! Yeah. I remember. And you liked it so much you decided to buy it for _me_?"
"Well, um. I thought it. When you wore it. You just - " Joey wondered why his tongue wasn't cooperating with him. He wondered why he hadn't bought Chris the collected works of Blondie on vinyl, instead. "You looked - "
"Totally hot?" Chris suggested, grinning.
Joey shoved him, then shrugged. "I don't know. Comfortable. Cozy. Just, you know - _good_. Sort of - cuddly."
Chris wrinkled his nose. "But in a very _hot_, cuddly-male-supermodel way, right?"
Joey rolled his eyes. "Oh, _yeah_."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Joseph," Chris said. He pulled the sweater on over his ratty t-shirt and sidled up to Joey, pushing him up against the counter, and batted his eyelashes.
"Freak," Joey said, flicking him between the eyes.
"You think I'm _pretty_, you want to _date_ me," Chris sing-songed.
"Wait - what's that from?"
"'Miss Congeniality,'" Chris said.
"Chick flick," Joey sniffed.
"Sandra Bullock with a gun," Chris said, indignant at the attack on his masculinity.
"Ah. Yes," Joey agreed. "You're still a freak," he said.
"_You_ still think I'm pretty."
Joey shrugged. "Yeah. But only in that sweater."
"Then I'll never take it off again."
"Ugh. I may get over it if you never wash it, crusty boy."
"I'll take it in the shower with me. It'll be fine." Chris rubbed his hand over it. "It _is_ really soft," he said.
"Yeah," Joey agreed.
Chris looked at him, and cocked an eyebrow. "Wanna feel?"
"Um." Thousands of possible answers occurred to him in that second, but only one came out. "Yeah."
"Yeah?"
Joey nodded.
Chris reached over and pulled up the hem of Joey's shirt.
"Wait," Joey said. "What - ?"
"If you really want to feel, you've gotta do it right," Chris insisted, tugging him forward.
Joey moved, raised his arms, and let Chris take his shirt off. He felt kind of stupid standing in Chris's kitchen half-naked, then Chris pushed into his arms and hugged him.
And, damn, not only did it _look_ good on him, but the sweater really _was_ soft, and warm, and now it smelled like Chris's soap and -
Chris looked at him, grinning. "Is that another present for me?"
"Um."
"Let me guess - the gift that keeps on giving?"
"Um."
Chris took Joey's hand. "Come on. Want to unwrap my other present somewhere more comfortable." He tugged him forward, finally getting Joey to move. "I'll keep the sweater on."
And later, Joey wondered if it was really the _sweater_ that he found so comfortable, and cozy, and cuddly.
And, as Chris would remind him, _totally_ hot.