Pairing: Justin and Brian
Words: chain; demon; poser; abundance


There were an abundance of posers and wannabes at the party, and
the truly sad part was, although O-Town was there, they didn't fall
into either category.  It was just that lame.  Justin had acquired
a can of Silly String and a Nerf football sometime into hour two
and was now looking for Chris, who had chosen the worst -- or best,
depending on how you looked at it -- time to disappear.

He caught sight of Chris through the crowd and tossed the football
at him, purposefully calling out a second too late, "Hey, Chris,
think fast!"

Chris spun around faster than anyone rightly should, just in time
to see the football hit a Backstreet Boy full-on in the face.

Justin winced.  "Ooh, that had to hurt."

Chris smirked at him and ducked away again before Justin could
spray him with the Silly String.  Geez.  They weren't even
officially playing Assassin.  Chris was so competitive sometimes. 
Lance was a bad influence on him.  Which left Justin standing there
when Brian bent over, picked up the ball and brought it to him.

"This yours?"

He took it.  What else was he gonna do?  "Yeah, man, thanks.  Sorry
about that.  I was trying for Chris."

Brian laughed a little.  "Not a problem.  I know what it's like. 
Me and Nick used to do stuff like that all the time.  Not usually
in crowded places, but..."

"This is boring," Justin said defensively.

"And still, somehow, the rest of us have managed to restrain
ourselves from trying to maim the other party-goers."

"I said I was sorry."

"No, it's okay.  I just meant--"

He shook his head.  He was tired of it all of a sudden.  The
Backstreet-NSYNC rivalry thing was old, over, dead and done.  If
the man couldn't take a foam football to the face, then he didn't
have a sense of humor, and wasting any more time on this just gave
Chris time to get away and plot something diabolical.  Chris was
like that.  "Whatever.  Sorry again, I'll be more careful next
time, bye."

He turned around and walked away, looking for sign of Chris, which
meant really, sign of Lance, because Lance tended to be a paragon
of good behavior in social settings, and disapproved of horseplay,
hellraising and had once spent the better part of a year patting
them down beforehand to make sure they weren't carrying squirt
guns.  Which made him the best place to hide while you regrouped.

Sure enough, Chris was hanging on Lance's shoulder, pretending to
be interested in whatever it was Lance was going on about to the
guys in suits he was talking to.  Chris smirked at him and stuck
out his tongue as he approached.  Justin smiled politely at the
suits and kicked Chris in the ankle.

He wrapped an arm around Chris' neck all casual-like and whispered
in his ear, "Fucker."

"Demon spawn," Chris whispered back.

"Goat licker."

"Ass kisser."

"Ass licker."

Chris gave him a look, then pried him away from Lance, who never
paused in his conversation.  "Dude, what's up?  You're obsessed
with the licking."

"Am not."

"Are so."  He looked around, then nodded sagely.  "Aha.  It's the
Backdoor Boy, isn't it?  You want to lick him."

"Lick him?  Brian?  Chris, what the fuck?"

"Yep!  You do!"  Chris broke free and bounded across the room,
presumably in search of Brian.

Justin tore off after him, but Chris had two advantages in a crowd
-- one, he was smaller and could fit through spaces more easily,
and two, he wasn't Justin Timberlake.  Fewer people wanted to stop
him and talk to him.  By the time Justin caught up to Chris, Chris
had already cornered Brian and was talking to him earnestly, with
lots of hand gestures.

Brian was looking at Justin, eyebrows raised.  Justin couldn't read
the look, didn't know Brian's every expression the way he did
Chris', but he didn't like it anyway.

Then he was through the crowd and standing next to them, and he
grabbed Chris by the arm and said, "Don't believe anything this
freak has been telling you.  It's all lies."

"All lies and damn lies," Chris said, far too agreeably.  "I'll
just leave you two lovebirds alone now.  I'm sure you have a lot to
discuss.  And Brian, make sure to use the silk ties, not the
chains.  Jup has sensitive skin."

And then he slipped away, the fucker.  Back to Lance, where it was
safe, leaving Justin to deal with Brian.

"Um..." Justin said.  "You're probably wondering what that was
about..."

"Nope."

"No?"  He was worried.  If Brian wasn't wondering, then he knew. 
Justin didn't know what he knew, because Justin didn't know what
there was to know because he had no idea what Chris had told him,
other than the bit about the kinky sex, which was more or less
true, at least the part about the sensitive skin.  Except anyone
with any sense of humor at all would know that had been a joke. 
Right?

Um, right?

Brian was staring at him, still with that really unnerving blank
look.  "I wasn't wondering at all.  I've got my own two-year-old,
after all."

"Er, you do?"  Brian had kids?  "Since when?"

"Over ten years now.  But at least Nick seems to be growing up
some, unlike you and Chris."

"Hey!"

Brian shrugged.  "It's fine.  It's kinda cool that you can still be
that child-like after everything we've all been through.  I know
we've had to grow out of that stage."

He was pretty sure he'd just been dissed.  Artfully, mind you, but
dissed nonetheless.  "I'm not a kid."

"Didn't say you were."

That was the hell of it.  Brian hadn't.  Not exactly.  Justin felt
frustrated.  "Look, I don't know what Chris told you, and I don't
know what you're thinking, but I'm not the kid here.  Maybe Nick
is, and that's cool.  But I'm not like that."

"Justin--"

He raised his hand.  "No, you don't get it.  You see us playing
around and having a good time and you think, 'they never grew up'. 
But we did.  I did, a long time ago.  And Chris, he was way too
grown up before I ever got to know him.  Neither of us got to be
kids, and now that we can, we are.  'Cause it sucks pretending to
be grown-up and responsible and unhappy all the time.  It'll kill
you if you let it.  Look at Lance."

Brian gave him an arched eyebrow look.  "Doesn't someone have to be
responsible?"

"Sure.  But do you have to all stop having fun?"  He took a deep
breath.  "Or start thinking drinking is the only grow-up way to
have fun.  'Cause, y'know, man, sex, drugs and rock-and-roll may be
the thing to do, but I *like* my immaturity and my Nerf football
and my Pixy Stix.  Grow down some, 'kay?  'Cause that adulthood
shit'll kill ya."

Brian was giving him a level, considering type of look that either
meant what Justin had said was sinking in, or he was working up a
truly impressive lecture.  If it was the former, his work here was
done.  And if it was the latter, he didn't want to be here at all. 
So either way, he was free to hunt down Chris, shake up the Silly
String, and stick it down his pants.

Justin gave Brian one last look, then muttered, "What the hell,"
and leaned in close, like he was going to whisper something to him,
and licked the side of his neck.  Then made a face and spat.  "Ew. 
Too much cologne."

"What do you think you're doing?" Brian asked.

Justin flashed him a smile.  "Gotta run.  People to track down,
worlds to conquer, Pixy Stix to consume," and bounded off.  Hah! 
Take that, Littrell!