Calloo callay!
It's Trickyfish Day, calloo, callay!
A little ficlet, to celebrate. With thanks to carta for the Brit-picky beta.
Quiet
Sometimes even a whole touring bus just wasn't big enough. Joey remembered the days of being crammed into that van, and he was heartily grateful they were over. But in the confined space there hadn't been room for Chris to drive anybody out of his skull. They'd had to sit, and sit still-okay, Chris jiggled, always, but a twitching leg was nothing compared to a body hurtling past, or throwing things, or jumping on the furniture.
They had four more hours of driving, and if Chris didn't shut up real soon, *Nsync would be a three-man group tonight because Chris would be dead and Joey would be in jail on a homicide charge. JC was no help, he'd retreated to his bunk hours ago and was oblivious. But Joey didn't like to sleep during the day, and the bunks weren't comfortable for reading, and anyway, he wanted to watch his Superman video. Justin was no help either, he suffered from the delusion (shared by Chris) that Chris was always funny, so he just sat and laughed, or participated in the throwing games and the chasing games that always seemed to involve stepping right across Joey's lap. And Lance was sitting pressed against the window, concentrating stonily on his laptop and apparently capable of ignoring the shrieking and gusts of movement all around him.
Joey was not so stoic. Joey was going to break soon. He'd howled at them when Chris's foot landed square in his groin during one riotous bout of tickling, but when Chris's offer to kiss it better had been flatly and indignantly refused, Chris had plainly decided to ignore Joey's wrath, and the noise level was as high as ever. Chris had definitely been in the sugar bowl this morning.
Joey sighed, and tried hard to concentrate on his movie. Justin and Chris were beside him on the couch, gabbling at high speed, and bouncing.
A Nintendo game box hit him on the nose, and he bellowed with wrath. "Is there no power on earth that can get you to shut up and keep still for five fucking minutes?"
Lance looked up. "I can," he said, coolly. Taking no notice of Chris's derisive catcalls, he stood, traversed the small space between table and couch and...
There was a startled squawk, and then, blessed silence. Joey, astonished, found he could not concentrate on the film (besides, it was the girly flying voiceover scene), so he turned round to see what the hell Lance's magic trick might be.
Well.
No wonder Justin, who had fallen onto the floor next to him, was sitting open-mouthed and dumbstruck. Joey felt pretty much that way himself. Wasn't every day you saw one of your bandmates kneeling on top of one of your other bandmates, holding his hands down at his sides, and kissing him with slow, deliberate, full-on mouth-to-mouth and, hey, were there tongues? Joey was very nearly sure there were tongues.
It wasn't silence, because there were little slurping noises, and tiny squeaks. But it was definitely an improvement. Grinning, Joey turned back to his movie. Justin fled, probably to tell JC how traumatized he was.
After a few minutes, the alarm in Lance's wristwatch beeped.
By the time JC came eagerly through to see what was going on, Lance was sitting by the window with his computer again. Joey was pretending to concentrate on his video, and carefully not laughing.
Chris was still quiet.
A little ficlet, to celebrate. With thanks to carta for the Brit-picky beta.
Quiet
Sometimes even a whole touring bus just wasn't big enough. Joey remembered the days of being crammed into that van, and he was heartily grateful they were over. But in the confined space there hadn't been room for Chris to drive anybody out of his skull. They'd had to sit, and sit still-okay, Chris jiggled, always, but a twitching leg was nothing compared to a body hurtling past, or throwing things, or jumping on the furniture.
They had four more hours of driving, and if Chris didn't shut up real soon, *Nsync would be a three-man group tonight because Chris would be dead and Joey would be in jail on a homicide charge. JC was no help, he'd retreated to his bunk hours ago and was oblivious. But Joey didn't like to sleep during the day, and the bunks weren't comfortable for reading, and anyway, he wanted to watch his Superman video. Justin was no help either, he suffered from the delusion (shared by Chris) that Chris was always funny, so he just sat and laughed, or participated in the throwing games and the chasing games that always seemed to involve stepping right across Joey's lap. And Lance was sitting pressed against the window, concentrating stonily on his laptop and apparently capable of ignoring the shrieking and gusts of movement all around him.
Joey was not so stoic. Joey was going to break soon. He'd howled at them when Chris's foot landed square in his groin during one riotous bout of tickling, but when Chris's offer to kiss it better had been flatly and indignantly refused, Chris had plainly decided to ignore Joey's wrath, and the noise level was as high as ever. Chris had definitely been in the sugar bowl this morning.
Joey sighed, and tried hard to concentrate on his movie. Justin and Chris were beside him on the couch, gabbling at high speed, and bouncing.
A Nintendo game box hit him on the nose, and he bellowed with wrath. "Is there no power on earth that can get you to shut up and keep still for five fucking minutes?"
Lance looked up. "I can," he said, coolly. Taking no notice of Chris's derisive catcalls, he stood, traversed the small space between table and couch and...
There was a startled squawk, and then, blessed silence. Joey, astonished, found he could not concentrate on the film (besides, it was the girly flying voiceover scene), so he turned round to see what the hell Lance's magic trick might be.
Well.
No wonder Justin, who had fallen onto the floor next to him, was sitting open-mouthed and dumbstruck. Joey felt pretty much that way himself. Wasn't every day you saw one of your bandmates kneeling on top of one of your other bandmates, holding his hands down at his sides, and kissing him with slow, deliberate, full-on mouth-to-mouth and, hey, were there tongues? Joey was very nearly sure there were tongues.
It wasn't silence, because there were little slurping noises, and tiny squeaks. But it was definitely an improvement. Grinning, Joey turned back to his movie. Justin fled, probably to tell JC how traumatized he was.
After a few minutes, the alarm in Lance's wristwatch beeped.
By the time JC came eagerly through to see what was going on, Lance was sitting by the window with his computer again. Joey was pretending to concentrate on his video, and carefully not laughing.
Chris was still quiet.