Pairing: JC and Chris
Words: Britney; thrusting; pooh bear; Clark Kent


JC whimpers and covers his eyes, stumbling toward Chris's room.  He
knocks.  "Help help help!"

Chris hears the panicked cries.  He sighs, takes his glasses off
and stuffs the book in a drawer.  Opening the door, he asks, "Help
with what?"

"Justin's fucking Britney on my bed!" JC wails.  "On my *blanket*!" 
He's referring to the blanket he drags everywhere with him.  The
one he can't sleep without.

"Seriously?"

JC whimpers.

Chris takes that as a yes.  He draws JC inside his room and sits
him down. "Now I'll just order some dip from room service, and then
we'll call Lance and Joey and we can all go over and watch.  Fun
for the whole family."  He doesn't head for the phone, however,
instead, hovering next to JC.

JC uncovers his eyes, now that he's sure it's safe.  "Thanks for
letting me in.  Um."  He sniffles.  "You can... do whatever.  I
mean.  I can just sit here.  If you don't mind."

"Sure," Chris says, patting his shoulder.  "You just sit there. 
I'll get you a blanket."  He backs off and heads out the door.

JC shivers and goes to the bathroom.  He sits down and closes his
eyes to do it, too, because looking at *his* dick reminds him of
*Justin's* dick and thrusting and moaning and *ew*."

A few minutes later, Chris knocks on the bathroom door.  "Hey, you
in there, Jayce?"

JC finishes drying his hands.  "Sorry, yeah."

"No problem, man.  Just got you a blanket."

JC takes the folded square of brown fabric.  "Thanks."  He smiles
bravely as if he isn't constantly seeing Justin's ass on the back
of his eyelids.  "That's nice of you."

Chris looks at JC meaningfully.  Then when JC doesn't say anything,
he grabs the blanket back from JC, shaking it out, so anyone who
isn't completely blind can see just what blanket it is, then wraps
it around JC's shoulders.  "You're welcome."

JC shuffles back to his place in the armchair near the window.  He
curls up comfortably with a sigh.

Chris rolls his eyes.  He'd gotten JC's blanket back at
considerable cost to life or limb.  Or at least hearing.  Justin
had been understanding enough, but Britney!  The girl could give
lessons to roadies.  And, on thinking about it, had probably
learned the language there.

JC snuggles the ragged silk lining under his chin.  Then blinks. 
Hotel blankets don't have silk lining.  "Oh!  Oh, Chris!"  He jumps
up from the chair and hugs Chris tightly.

Chris grins and hugs him back.  "Thought you might be happier with
that one."

JC beams.  Then looks at the blanket.  "Um.  They probably --
leaked on it.  Didn't they?"

"They didn't seem to have gotten to that point yet, but yeah.  I'd
have it boiled, if I were you."

JC whimpers and bites his lip.  "Can I use your phone?"

"Sure."

JC calls down to the laundry, agreeing to the fee for extra gentle
detergent and woolite.  He personally hands the blanket to the man
who comes to the door, watching forlornly as it's carried away. 
Usually he washes it himself, by hand.  But they have a show
tomorrow, and he doesn't have time to wait for it to dry.

Chris pats him on the shoulder.  "Be strong, Jayce.  It'll only be
away from you for a day.  Remember, if you love a thing, let it go. 
If it comes back to you, it's yours forever."

JC smiles a little.  "Okay."  He goes back to his chair, curling
up.  "You can read some more.  I don't need to be babysitted.  Not
anymore."

"Reading?  What is this activity you speak of?  I don't read.  I
play video games and have wild parties.  All the time!"

"You have those little red marks on your nose from your glasses,"
JC says solemnly.

Chris rubs his nose guiltily, then brightens.  "I was reading
porn!"

"Okay.  You go back to your Penthouse Letters.  Cleverly hidden
inside a real book, so no one will get the right idea, of course."

"Um.  Maybe I'm just tired of reading right now."

"Okay," JC says amenably.

"I mean, I wouldn't want to offend you with my naked chick porn."

"No, it's okay.  I can stand it.  For the man who saved my
blanket."

Chris bites his lip.

JC closes his eyes and lays his head against the back of the chair. 
All to give Chris the privacy to read.  Besides, JC is tired.

"You tired?" Chris asks quietly.

"Kinda, yeah."

"Why don't you come over and lie down in the bed?  It's nice and
clean.  I haven't even gotten in it yet."

"Because it's *your* bed.  And you should sleep in it when you get
tired.  Not have some tall, floppy-haired weird guy in it."

"I'm not tired yet.  And you are.  Besides, I don't need to get in
bed to read."

"I can't sleep, Chris.  But, uh.  I could lay down until you're
ready to sleep.  Justin and Brit'll probably be done by then."

Chris nods firmly.  "Yeah.  Exactly.  Rest your eyes."

JC does, crawling onto the bed and closing his eyes with a sigh. 
He doesn't sleep, and he won't.  He listens to Chris's little
sounds and tries to meditate.

Chris putters around.  He doesn't know that he wants to read yet. 
Not what he was reading anyway.

JC hums inaudibly to himself, composing songs to occupy his mind.

Chris sighs and goes to sit down on the bed.  "Okay.  This is
stupid.  You're tired.  You were practically passing out in the
chair over there.  And now you won't sleep.  What gives?"

"Don't have my blanket."

"So you're just not gonna sleep all night?"

"I'll go down in a couple hours and see if it's clean yet," JC
protests.

"Nuh-uh, babe.  You are going to rest your pretty little head right
here and sleep."

"Sure.  And pigs might fly."

Chris moves over and lies down.  He pats his shoulder.  "C'mere. 
You can sleep on me.  I'm all safe and stuff.  Much better than
blankets."

JC laughs weakly.  "Dude.  I don't wanna ruin your evening."

"Yeah, because sleeping with hot guys is really a waste of my
time."

JC looks at Chris curiously.  "Huh?"

Chris rolls his eyes.  "You hottie.  Me sleep with you.  Me get to
sleep with hot guy.  Comprendez vous?"

"Why do *you* care about sleeping with hot *guys*?" JC asks.

"What?  Are you going to be unsupportive of my homonormative
tendencies?  If you are, I'm telling Lance on you."

"No, no!  Just kinda surprised me.  Like you suddenly turning into
Superman from Clark Kent."

"Lemme give you a tip -- glasses equal Clark Kent.  If I'm not
wearing glasses, then I'm Superman."  Chris delivers this utterly
deadpan.  Then he reaches out to JC.  "C'mon already.  I'm offering
to be your own personal Pooh bear.  Are you telling me you don't
want to take me up on it?"

"Nope.  Never let it be said that I refused a chance to sleep with
Chris Kirkpatrick."

"That's the spirit."

JC settles against Chris's side awkwardly.

Chris sighs deeply as though greatly put upon.  "I'm not gonna hit
on you.  Go ahead and cuddle already."

"I'm not good at cuddling.  I don't get to sleep with people very
often," JC defends.

"There's nothing wrong with sleeping with people.  It's fun.  *I*
happen to be a champion cuddler."  Chris rolls on his side, pushing
JC back, then snuggles up against him, all close and tangled. 
"Like this."

JC holds Chris lightly.  "Yep.  You're good at this."

"So, you want me to hold you like this, or do you think you can
sleep now?  'Cause, y'know, I think it'd only be fair to warn me in
advance if it's gonna take sex first."

JC shivers.  "Um.  I think we should wait on sex until the shock of
the offer isn't likely to kill me."

Chris grins against JC's chest.  "Oh, all right," he says, like
he's being cheated out of a treat he really wanted.  "If I gotta
wait to get you, I gotta wait."

"G'night, Chris," JC says.  It seems safest.

"Night, Jayce.  Sweet dreams."