Pairing: Chris and JC
Words: dimple; calculate; Harry Potter; condemn


"No," Chris said firmly.

"But, Chris.  C'mon.  It's *embarrassing*."

"Get over it.  Just 'cause you're 15, Curly, doesn't mean the rest
of us are--"

"I'm *16*," Justin protested.

"--and anyway, that's what at least half the little girlys are
there to see.  So what if JC gets hard a lot onstage?  Not everyone
can be pure and virginal like you, Snow White."

"'Snow White'?  What's that supposed to mean?"

Chris shrugged.  "Dunno.  Did it sound good?  Look, I'm not gonna
let you rag on C 'cause shaking his booty makes him hot.  Maybe
someday when you grow up and discover girls, you'll do it, too. 
And when you do, I'll defend your right to grab your crotch just as
strongly.  'Til then, butt out."

"I know what girls are," Justin said indignantly.

"Ri-ight.  Talk to me again when you lose that pesky virginity,
okay?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

****

Chris thought it was pretty funny that Justin got freaked out by
JC's stage fixation.  When the kid grew up some, he'd realize that
a stage fixation was fairly mild as kinks went.  Hell, he had more
than a little of an exhibitionist streak himself.  And hearing
people scream for him was kinda cool, too.

He was more tempted to do some sort of Svengali thing and demand
that the audience worship him and wear only blue socks than to whip
it out and start beating off, but to each his own.  He didn't care
what JC was into.

He did find though, that he was noticing JC more.  Noticing that JC
was indeed often hard onstage.  Less so when they were out dancing,
which was kind of strange, because it was essentially the same
thing, except with actual girls to dance *with*, which he would
have thought would make the problem worse.  They were starting to
get a sort of following in Europe, and when they went out, there
were usually a couple of girls who knew who they were.  Not all of
them spoke English, but that didn't seem to stop Joey from taking
advantage of the groupies whenever they appeared.  Chris still
thought it was pretty cool that they had groupies at all.

JC, on the other hand...

Chris could almost swear JC was *more* comfortable onstage than
off, which was just plain weird, because onstage they could screw
up and frequently did.  JC less than, say, Lance, but still. 
Performing was a high pressure environment.  Dance clubs were a low
pressure environment.  Why was JC so much more comfortable in the
former than the latter?

He'd just about come to the conclusion that JC was one of those
people who thrived on stress when Justin, who was young and
therefore hopelessly stupid, couldn't leave things well alone.

They were hanging out in Joey and Chris's room, wiped out after the
show, too exhausted to go anywhere and too wired to sleep.  Joey
was lying stretched out face-down, head hanging off the end of the
bed, Lance lying next to him, face-up.  JC had curled up on the
couch, and Justin and Chris were sitting in front of it on the
floor, ostensibly watching bad TV.

Chris had *thought* Justin was watching TV anyway, until Justin
said, out-of-nowhere, "So, like, do you never have sex or what, C? 
'Cause that was just rank out there.  You looked like you were
going to burst out of your pants and start humping somebody's leg."

The comment fell into the pause right before the commercial came on
the TV.  Lance jumped.  Joey said, "Justin..." and JC got up and
left the room.

The commercial was loud and jangly in the now silent room.  Chris
turned the TV off.

"What?" Justin said, looking from the door to the other guys.  "I
was just sayin'.  You guys've seen him.  Lance, you know."

Lance shook his head, declining to be drawn into the conversation
and rolled toward Joey, who automatically wrapped an arm around
him.

Chris stood up.  "I told you to keep your mouth shut about that. 
For a reason."  He was so angry he felt it flushing up and down his
arms in waves of heat.  "It's no more your business than it is
anyone else's business that you beat off to TV Guide."

Justin turned red.  "It was just once.  Besides.  It is *our*
business.  He's doing it in public, on stage.  It's about our
image."

"No.  It isn't.  He isn't hurting anyone.  *You* are, with your big
mouth.  The next time you see him, you're going to apologize to
him.  Understand me?"

Justin looked sulky.

"I don't have time to pound good sense into your head, kid.  I
gotta go fix the mess you made.  You're going to grovel if that's
what it takes, and that's final."

"I'll talk to him," Joey said, and Chris nodded tightly.

"Fine."

He went out into the hall and looked up and down it.  When in
doubt, try the obvious first, he supposed.  JC had the single. 
Chris went down to the room and knocked on the door.  After a
second, it opened, and JC let him in.  He didn't look at Chris,
just opened the door and walked away.

Chris came in warily.  "Hey."  JC didn't say anything, and Chris
halted a safe distance away from him.  "About what Justin said. 
He's just a kid.  We don't all think like that.  It's nobody's
business what you do onstage anyway, unless you decide to start
getting naked or something."

The joke fell flat.

JC had his arms wrapped around himself.  "I've had sex, you know."

"I'm sure you have," Chris said, uncomfortable.  "No one's saying
you're a virgin or anything.  J's just... he's being an asshole,
but he's partly right, you know, it's not that you seem to be
having much sex right now."  JC didn't look at him, and Chris was
feeling like a bigger asshole than Justin even, trying to put
reasons behind Justin's behavior when Chris thought Justin was
completely in the wrong.  "I'm not saying you can't get laid, but
y'know, you *can* if you want to."

He was talking completely in circles, trying to find something to
say that'd make things better, and he was relieved when JC finally
spoke.

"Not everyone has to have sex to be normal, Chris.  It's possible
to live a full, happy life without casual sex.  In fact..."

Chris held up his hands.  "I believe you, I believe you.  I'm on
your side here.  It's just that... well, y'know, it's hard to
understand why anyone would want to at our age in our situations. 
We're healthy young guys with needs.  And we've got opportunities. 
Other guys our age dream about this kind of thing.  Going out and
having available chicks flocking to them no matter how
funny-looking they are.  All you gotta do is say, 'I'm JC; I'm a
musician' and you'd have more action than you could handle."

JC sat down, turning his back on Chris.  "I don't want action."

Chris blinked.  Okay, so he'd figured maybe JC was wired
differently, but that was a long way from different wiring.  He
went over to JC and put his hand on his forehead.  "You don't
*feel* feverish."

JC pulled inward, not looking at him.  Retreating.  "I'm fine. 
I'm... I'm sorry, Chris.  I didn't mean to interfere with anyone's
plans.  Yours or Justin's or the group's.  I'm not trying to hurt
anyone or sound like I'm making a judgment about how you live your
life."

Chris really wanted to kick Justin's ass now.  And his own, too,
for coming in here and making matters worse.  He should have sent
Joey.  "Hey, I'm fine.  Happy even.  Don't I look happy?"

"Sure, Chris."  JC gave Chris a half-smile, then turned his head to
stare at the wall.

The wall.  The fucking *wall* was more interesting than he was?  He
didn't think so.  Chris frowned.  Something else was going on here. 
Something important, too.  Little alarm bells were going off in his
head.  Like, stop pushing, asshole, unless you want to really piss
him off.

But going away would just mean this'd come up again.  Because Chris
didn't see JC changing.  Saw him, in fact, as having been this way
for as long as Chris had known him.  Saw him staying this way until
something changed.  And nothing was going to change.  They were
only going to get more famous, more successful -- Chris would allow
himself to believe in nothing else.

And JC was broken.

Chris paused, looking at JC's huddled figure.  He was, wasn't he? 
Broken.  JC had reassured him initially.  When they started the
group, Chris had been worried about the others.  Justin was young
and vulnerable; Joey was open and friendly; and Lance was naive and
just begging for someone to smack him down.  But JC was as hard and
armored as Chris himself and he'd liked that.  Liked knowing that
there was someone else who could understand the world as it was,
instead of the world as they wanted it to be.  Joey and Lance
didn't see most of what was there, and Chris wanted to make sure
that Justin didn't see anymore than he already had -- something
Chris was obviously doing a good job on, if Justin was pulling a
stunt like tonight's.  JC, however, was perfect.  An old hand.  An
experienced professional.  Someone who knew the score and could be
counted upon.

Except.  Except JC was staring at the wall as though it were a
brand new episode of "The Simpsons" and there was something very
wrong.

Chris dropped down in front of JC's seat in the chair.  JC still
didn't look at him.  "Hey, look, no.  I'm the one who's sorry.  A
sorry bastard.  I came in here to tell you Justin's a little
shithead and instead I end up trying to defend him to you when I
think what he said was stupid and rude.  I shouldn't have done
that.  I'm really sorry, C."

"It's fine."

He was sure it was anything other than fine.  He reached out to put
his hand on JC's knee, and JC pulled it away from him, drawing his
legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"Jesus, C.  I'm not going to hurt you," Chris said, almost
offended.  He'd apologized, after all -- it wasn't like he had
cooties or something.  And he wouldn't hit one of the guys, not
without a helluva lot more provocation than *that*.  He didn't try
to touch JC again though.  That didn't seem like a good idea
somehow.  JC wasn't the most touchy-feely guy in the universe
either, and Chris remembered now that he was usually the first to
pull away from the mandatory closeness required for photoshoots and
interviews and events of that nature, and that he was also the only
one of them who voluntarily and habitually avoided the others when
he took a nap.

Except that Chris had thought before that that was so they wouldn't
find him and harass him into wakefulness or maybe because JC didn't
like the inevitable fidgeting and snoring that inevitably occurred
when you slept on someone.

Not because...

"*Did* someone hurt you?" Chris demanded.  "Lou maybe?  'Cause I'll
rip his throat out if he did.  I don't care if this is our big
break.  Jan, maybe?"

That made JC turn his head finally.  He looked past Chris and his
eyes were dull.  "It's not like that."

He'd have been more convincing if he'd kept his face to the wall. 
"'Not like that'.  Not them, you mean."  Chris thought about it. 
JC'd been like this as long as he'd known him.  "But somebody,
right?  Before NSYNC started up, right?"

"Just shut up, Chris."  Tone snapping a bit now, eyes focussed on
him.

Closer then, but still not on the mark.  "If you don't want to tell
me, that's fine, C."

"Okay."  Tone gone flat again, eyes down.

"Okay, I'm lying.  It's not.  It's really not.  I wanna kill
whoever it was.  Because there was someone.  Don't try to shit me
about that.  There was."

JC was looking at his hands, but that was better than him looking
at the wall.  "Yeah."

"Fuck," he swore softly.  Chris jumped up and started pacing. 
"Fuck!  Why didn't you say anything?  No, never mind.  I know why." 
Because none of the others could handle it, and because Chris
didn't seem like a trustworthy person in general.  He was good at
that.  At acting like he didn't care, alternating between prickly
defensiveness and humor that was defensiveness gone offensive.  And
he was doing such a good job now of making JC feel comfortable
about revealing whatever it was that had happened to him.

Chris sat back down.  In front of JC again, on the floor,
cross-legged.  "Okay, I think I can act like a rational human being
again.  I want to say I wish you'd told me, but I get why you
didn't, and it isn't important anyway, 'cause that's in the past
and what's important now is now.  If that makes any sense.  You
wanna tell me what happened?  'Cause it's obviously still bothering
you, and you haven't ever told anyone, have you?"

JC shook his head.

It wasn't clear which question he was answering.  Chris decided to
take it as the latter.  "I'm listening now.  I won't tell anyone. 
I might permanently injure some people, but I won't tell anyone."

"After the Mickey Mouse Club," JC began finally, then paused.

Chris stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep himself from
interrupting.

"I went out to Los Angeles.  It's really not the city of angels,
you know?  Not pretty or nice or even... real.  It's."  He looked
past Chris, at the curtained window, where the view of the night
was blocked away.  "It's soulless.  There's nothing there but
ambition and drive and at first, it's like death, feeling it. 
Feeling withered things and exposed roots, and everything's wrong,
but then."  He shook his head.  "Then you get used to it.  I don't
know if that's the worst part.  The being used to it, and then
later, coming out of it, leaving but never escaping, and feeling
that you've been covered in black slime, only no one else can see
it and only you can feel it, and you don't want to talk to anyone
else or touch anyone else because you got tainted and you know
you'll do the same thing to them."

He dropped his eyes to Chris' face.  There were indents in Chris'
fist now, teethmarks from where he was biting to keep from saying
anything.  "What happened?" JC asked.  He shook his head.  "I don't
know.  It didn't... there wasn't any one thing.  I... I blame me. 
For not knowing.  For thinking it was normal.  For going along with
things.  Do you know that the very first time I went to a party in
California, a guy propositioned me?  For sex?  He was very tall. 
And black.  I remember that.  And staring out at his swimming pool. 
I don't think I said yes.  Not that time.  I wish I had.  He was...
nice.  Sort of.  He didn't pressure me.  Did I ever tell you?" JC
asked unexpectedly.

Chris shook his head.

"I had a 'friend' there.  We worked together.  Waited tables
together.  He -- I loaned him my car.  A couple times.  Every time,
something went wrong.  He'd park it in a red zone -- that's a no
parking zone in L.A.  Or get the windshield broken.  And there was
never any gas in it when he returned it, if he brought it back at
all.  But I kept loaning it to him anyway.  I should've known,
don't you think?  Not to do it.  That'd he'd keep doing stuff like
that.  Because he always did.  But I always said yes."

Chris nodded, but JC didn't seem to notice, didn't seem to even
realize he was there anymore.  Chris took his hand out of his mouth
and gingerly probed the teethmarks.  He didn't think he was going
to be able to interrupt JC anyway, not now.  The biggest problem
might be breaking JC out of it, out of the semi-trance he seemed to
be in.

"The first time it happened, I wasn't even sure anything had
happened.  I was at another party, at it was late, and there were
drugs.  There were always drugs.  Everyone in California was taking
something.  I saw a lawyer in a stairwell in a mall in Santa Monica
standing in a corner casually snorting drugs once.  You... It was
like beer is here.  Everywhere.  And I'm not trying to condemn
European culture, but... that's the way it is.  Was.  And I did it,
too."

His eyes were bleak.  "I could've said no.  That's what they say,
right?  'Just say no'.  But I just did whatever anyone wanted me to
do.  I... I feel better when people are happy with me, but at the
end of it, they get what they want and they leave and they don't
care what it cost you or how you feel afterward.  They just care
what they get out of it.  You don't matter.  *I* don't matter.  And
I should know better.  Should have known better.  *Do* know better. 
But I still did it.  So what does that make me?"

Chris didn't want to interrupt, but JC was staring at him,
apparently done, and now he was supposed to pass judgment on C,
when he didn't even know what, if anything, there was to pass
judgment on except JC apparently having been taken advantage of by
a bunch of people too stupid to know a good thing when they saw
one.  "It doesn't make you anything.  You're a good person.  You
thought they were your friends."

"No.  I didn't.  I knew they weren't.  That they were just there
for what they could get and that they forgot about me as soon as
they got high or stopped being high or whatever else they were
trying to be.  I didn't care about *them*, why should they care
about me?"

"Because you're worth being cared about?" Chris suggested, and
wished he hadn't, because JC smiled at him, all dimples, but with
a terrible, shattered look in his eyes.

"You wanted to know why I never get laid.  It's funny, you know. 
Because I'm the furthest thing from a virgin.  I've taken guys'
cocks every way imaginable.  Done girls too, even though I was
mostly too high or stoned or out of it to do anything about it. 
Mostly.  Fucked and sucked and been fucked, and Justin's right. 
I'm dirty.  Fallen angels.  Maybe that's the kind of angels Los
Angeles means.  Beautiful and fallen, and rotten at the core."

Chris didn't know what to say, and in that moment of hesitation, JC
smiled again.  It was a horrible thing to look at; it hurt to look
at JC.  "You can go now, Chris.  You should go."

He didn't move.  He was too stunned, really.  Shocked.  It wasn't
anything he hadn't heard before, or lived through.  His mother. 
Growing up had been an interesting experience, and she had a habit
of picking the wrong men until she'd given up entirely.  He'd seen
the same and maybe worse with her.  But with more guilt when it
inevitably went bad because there were his sisters and him to
consider.  JC only had himself and, maybe that was actually worse
because there was no guilt, but there was no reason to dig out and
start looking forward, start trying to make something out of it,
because it *was* just him, and so he could wallow forever.

"No," Chris said.  "I'm not going.  You can't make me.  And
besides, I don't want to.  C, we're your friends.  Real friends. 
I am.  And you... what happened to you... damnit."  He was talking
in platitudes, and that wasn't going to mean anything to JC.  He
had to talk like himself, had to barrel through if he was going to
get JC to listen to him and believe him.  "You fucked up, okay. 
You fucked up a lot.  So what?  People fuck up.  Then they get on
with their lives.  And just because you met a lot of shitheads and
just because Justin is being a little shit right now doesn't mean
everyone's like that or that we're going to be like that.  You're
safe and anyone who wants to take advantage of you is going to have
to come through me.  And the rest of the guys would say the same
thing if they had any idea you felt like this."

"Chris..."

"You're a good person, C.  That's what matters."

"I'm not."

"You are," Chris said firmly, because it was true.  "You give more
of yourself than anyone else.  You try harder and you care more
about the music than the rest of us.  You do your best and you
don't whine about it.  You do your fair share and then some."

"It's not that simple."

"It is."

JC sighed.  "Maybe."

"Definitely."

"Still... I should apologize to Justin."

"No, you shouldn't.  Why the hell would you do something like
that?"

"Because I've been lying to you all for too long.  You were right
about that.  Keeping it a secret hasn't helped any.  He should know
-- you all should know -- about me being the furthest thing from a
virgin.  About me having been.  What I was then."

Chris shook his head.  JC had uncurled slightly, and Chris rose up
on his knees.  He thought maybe he understood why JC had pulled
away earlier, and knew he had to reach out now, because JC was not
any of the things he thought himself to be.  Was not unclean, was
not soiled.  Broken, yes, but not fallen.  He put his hand on JC's
calf and kept it there when JC's leg jerked under his touch.  "No. 
Justin was right, but for all the wrong reasons.  You *are* a
virgin."

JC laughed nervously.  "No, I'm not.  Chris!  That's just stupid. 
I'm a... whatever the furthest thing is from one."

"No, you are.  You don't have any idea what it's like to have sex
because *you* want it, do you?  Because it was your idea.  Knowing
what you're doing.  You've always done it because someone else was
pressuring you into it, and you don't even remember it.  God."

"I knew what I was getting into.  I could have left."

"Could you?"

"Well... I shouldn't have gone back.  Shouldn't have let them talk
me into going back."  JC raised his chin.  "I know better now
though.  I left L.A.  I'm not going to let it happen again."

And he hadn't, Chris realized.  That was why JC came across as so
hardened.  So wary.  Why he was more comfortable onstage,
surrounded by people but removed from them, than on a dance floor,
immediately in the path of temptation.  "There's got to be some
middle ground between closing yourself off completely from other
people and giving in to them completely."

"If there is, I don't know what it is."

Chris wanted to say, 'Just stand up for yourself, damnit', but he
bit it off.  No point, because JC wouldn't.  Not beyond a certain
limit.  He'd push just enough to get people to stay outside of the
boundary he'd drawn, and that was that.  And the worst part was,
Chris understood why he was doing it.  Or maybe the best part,
because it gave him some idea of what to do about it.  "Let us take
care of you, then.  Let *me* take care of you.  You're safe here. 
Goddamnit.  If you can't trust us, if you don't know that you can
trust me, then what the fuck point is there to any of this?"

"Trust you with what?"

"The truth, for one.  Like you did just now, except without me
having to threaten you to get it out of you.  With..." *the real
you*, "not walking all over you.  Because I'm not like them.  We're
not.  Okay, so sure, maybe we're surrounded by people who are, but
you're treating us like we're out to get you, too, and hell.  It's
hurting you, C.  Let us in.  Let me in."

JC gave him a long look.  Chris was uncomfortably aware of how
awkward he was, kneeling there, his hand on JC's leg.  "I want to
say 'yes'.  I want to say you can have anything you want, but I
know that's the wrong thing to do because that's what got me into
trouble -- saying 'yes' when people asked me to do things."

"Then say 'maybe'," Chris suggested.  "Because saying 'no' is just
as bad.  That's what's getting you in trouble now -- saying 'no'
all the time and never letting anyone in."

JC nodded.  "I'll think about it."

"Okay." That was a victory, or as close to one as he was going to
get, and Chris levered himself up, using his hand on JC's leg for
balance, then stretched the kinks out of his spine.  "It'll be all
right.  I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"Watch me."

****

JC was beautiful.

Beautiful was a girly word, suitable only for women, but it really
did apply to JC, who was not only handsome, but something else
entirely.  Pretty.  Lovely.  Beautiful.

Chris kept those thoughts mostly in his own head.  Because JC
hadn't always been that way.  Had been, once, calculating.  Cold. 
Reserved.

But JC was different now.  Delicate, in a way.  Fragile even.  And
instead of being afraid for him, worried that he needed protecting,
afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep JC from being hurt, Chris
was glad.

He came through the door and saw JC sitting against the wall,
frowning.  He had a book in his hands.  Chris made his way down the
hall and sat next to him, wrapping his arm around JC.  "What's
wrong, baby?"

"This book," JC held the spine up for examination.  Chris caught a
glimpse of the words 'Harry Potter', but couldn't make out the rest
of the title.  "It's... it's disturbing.  People do the right
things for the wrong reasons, and the wrong things for the right
reasons, and in the end, they still send Harry back to the people
who abused him even though they're the good guys.  And that's not
right."

Chris plucked it from his hands.  "And where did you get this
so-called book?"

"Justin.  His tutor assigned it to him for a book report."  JC made
a face.  "Justin thinks it's a *happy* story."

Chris flung the book across the room, where it slammed into a wall
and fluttered to the ground.  "J's still pretty young.  There's
stuff he doesn't get."

JC leaned into him and rested his head on Chris' shoulder.  "Maybe
it is a happy story.  Eventually.  Maybe his friends figure out
that he's miserable and rescue him.  Because it happens that way
sometimes."

JC's hair was growing out now.  Part of how he was becoming
beautiful.  It was tickling Chris' collarbone.  "Yeah.  It does."