Pairing: Justin and Joey
Words: eggcup; eyeshadow; dirty pop; close-fitting


There's things a man isn't intended to see before breakfast.  In
this case, breakfast with a lot of coffee and maybe some alcohol in
it.

Joey drops his spoon, knocking the eggcup with his poached egg in
it onto the floor.  "Oh, Lord."

Justin comes through the outside door to the group's hotel suite,
obviously just having come back from a night out.  He's the living
embodiment of dirty pop -- sweaty wifebeater, close-fitting jeans
and smeared eyeshadow.

Joey nearly swallows his tongue.

Justin closes the door silently and carries his bag into the
bathroom.  The shower starts up a moment later.

Joey shakes his head and turns back to the table.  "Fuck."  The
egg's gone.  He gets it off the floor, and pours himself some
coffee.

Justin comes back out a while later in his loosest, most concealing
clothes.  He huddles in one of Joey's sweatshirts and eats his
cereal.

Joey clears his throat.

Justin twitches and keeps his eyes on his bowl.

This Justin seems completely normal.  Incoherent and -- if
disturbed before he finishes his cereal -- violent.  Joey can
relate.

Justin sniffs hard and picks up Joey's abandoned coffee.  It burns
and it tastes terrible, and he drinks all of it anyway.

Joey clears his throat again.  "Want some more?"

Justin holds out the mug, watching it waver from side to side, just
a little.

Joey gets the pot and carefully pours more.

Justin drinks it all unquestioningly.  He hates coffee.

"Are you... uh."  Joey falters.  "Never mind."

Justin blushes.

The blush gives Joey courage.  "Looks like you had a long night. 
A long, *good* night."

Justin shakes his head, then nods, then shrugs.  "I guess," he
says, voice tiny and hoarse.

Joey raises an eyebrow.  "You *guess*?  When you end up looking
like you did, you *know* if you had a good night."  He scoots his
chair closer to Justin's.  "What happened?"

"Just... just met someone."

"Someone nice?  Sexy maybe?"

"Sexy.  Not nice."

Joey's expression darkens and comes out of the chair, kneeling down
in front of Justin.  "You okay?"

It's harder to avoid Joey's eyes like this.  He shrugs and lets his
gaze wander.  "Warped my fragile little mind," he says weakly.

Joey reaches out for Justin, giving him plenty of time to move
away.  "Yeah, well.  You never know.  Most of the women I've know
aren't like that, but there's some pretty sick people out there."

Justin stands up, his chair falling over.  He steps back, away. 
Anything that's away.  "Not sick.  Just... not nice."

Joey stands up and takes a big step back, holding up his hands. 
"Maybe a lot worse than just not nice if you're scared I'm gonna
hurt you."

Justin huffs out a breath.  "I'm not scared."

Joey puts his hands down, but doesn't move closer.  "Sure.  'Course
not."

Justin shoves the sleeves up.  His wrists are bruised.  "Look, I'm
okay.  I'm fine."

Joey's eyes harden as he sees the bruises.  "Other than those, you
mean?"

"It was consensual."

Joey wants to ask if it was consensual, why is Justin so scared,
but he can't because Justin's already said he isn't scared.  He
steps forward slowly and holds his hand out, palm up to Justin. 
"But you're still freaked out."

Justin shrugs and then nods.  "It wasn't how I thought it would
be."

Joey settles his hand very lightly on Justin's shoulder.  "What did
you think it was gonna be?"

"It was gonna be not having to take control," Justin says, eyes
everywhere but Joey.  "It was gonna be someone caring more about... 
Fuck.  Fuck!  Never mind."

Joey brings his other hand up to Justin's waist in a mimicry of a
hug.  "Caring more about what?  Caring more about giving to you
than what fabulous love Justin Timberlake could show them?"

"No, that can't be right," Justin says, even though that's exactly
what he meant to say.  "Because they already care all about me and
want to do what I want."

The bewildered note in Justin's eyes clues Joey in.  Plus he's not
Justin Timberlake, but he gets the same treatment.  "But they're
expecting that it'll be the best sex of their lives.  They want you
to make it like that for them, to tell them what to do and even if
you tell them to get down on their knees and suck your dick,
they're still getting off on who you are.  They're objects and you
gotta be Justin Timberlake instead of having a good time."

"They're people," Justin insists.  "They're people, not objects. 
It's special, it's... it's about caring, and connection... and..."

"It is," Joey agrees.  "But it's not like sex with people who
aren't impressed by you are."  Joey has Kelly and he'd had sex
pre-fame.  Joey's been just plain Joe, and he knows there's a
difference.

"I'm tired," Justin says, rubbing at his eyes.  His fingers come
away with faint black smears.  "Fucking mascara."

"I can get some cold cream."  He doesn't have any in his stuff, but
only because he knows he can always swipe some from Lance's bag.

Justin shakes his head.  "How long before we have to leave?"

"The usual.  Not long enough."  Joey's reluctant to let go of
Justin, even though his hold is fragile at best.  "Seriously,
though.  If you need anything..."

"I'm tired," Justin repeats.  "I'm gonna lay down."  He steps away
from Joey and immediately misses the touch.  But he's too tired to
really think about it.  He lays on the couch, everything seeming to
come at him at once.

Joey stands there helplessly for a minute, not knowing what to do. 
Then he heaves a sigh and heads for Lance's room to get the cold
cream.

Justin sleeps and dreams.  He's held down, this time with something
heavy and inescapable over his whole body.

Joey comes back with the cold cream and a washcloth from the
bathroom and kneels down next to Justin.  Justin's eyes are closed. 
Quietly, Joey says, "I've got the cold cream.  You want me to do it
or do you wanna?"

Justin reaches out blindly.  "You," he says, finally letting his
arms drop.

"Okay."  Joey dabs cold cream on the washcloth and gently starts
removing the mascara.

Justin makes quiet sounds to himself.

"Ssh.  It's okay."

Justin's nose wrinkles as the cold cream stings.

"They're just gonna put more on later," Joey says.  "But it's good
to be clean."

"I shouldn't have put it on," Justin says.

Joey's confused.  "Why not?"

"It was the wrong signal, I think."

Joey passes his hand over Justin's hair.  "I don't think you did
anything wrong.  I think the person you ended up with sucked."

"She wasn't too bad.  The boyfriend sucked, though."

"Want me to have him killed?" Joey asks, brushing the washcloth
over the now clean skin.

Justin presses his lips together and shakes his head.

Joey kisses Justin's forehead.  "All better."

Justin opens his eyes.  "I liked the tying up."

"Then you could try that again sometime.  Maybe with someone you
trust first."

"And when do I get the chance to meet someone and be around them
long enough to trust them?" Justin asks.  "I'm sorry.  That was
bitchy.  I'm tired.  I'll just go to sleep now."

"Pick someone you already trust," Joey says.

"I only trust you guys," Justin says, his voice slowing down.  "An'
we're all straight."  A myth they sustain, even to each other. 
Especially with each other.

Joey snorts.  "Right.  Straight.  And, as a straight man, if you
ever want to consider trusting me in a straight way, I'm okay with
that."

"Don't tease."  Justin curls up tighter on his side.  "Sleep now."

"Not teasing."  Joey pats Justin's shoulder and gets up.  He puts
the cold cream back in the bag, drops the washcloth in the bathroom
and comes back with a blanket and covers Justin up.

Justin frets, turning over in his sleep.  His dreams aren't so
scary this time.

Joey closes the door quietly behind him and tries to figure out how
to tell the others so they don't say anything that'll make Justin
feel worse.