Pairing: Justin and AJ
Words: kosher; gnarled; coke; tender


Their publicist handed out the information sheets.

"Okay," she said, after they'd had a moment to look over them, even
though Chris had immediately started folding his into a paper
airplane as soon as it'd been handed to him, "let's review. 
Nothing really new here.  You're all good Christian boys--"

Joey cleared his throat.

"Catholic, fine.  Don't nitpick with me, Fatone--"

JC looked up and opened his mouth.

She cut him off, "but pagan is *not* an acceptable lifestyle
choice, and neither is Wiccan or whatever New Age-y crap you're got
going now, Chasez.  You are a good Christian boy, and if you can't
keep that straight, you're going to be wearing another one of those
WWJD bracelets until next October, got it?  And the
cock-ring-as-a-bracelet thing was *not* funny."

"I thought it was funny," Chris offered, sailing his plane at
Lance.  The paper airplane missed by a mile, and Lance never looked
up from his PDA.

"Don't get started with me, Kirkpatrick," the woman said.  "And you
need to fill out the survey for J-14 again.  'Carson Daly' is *not*
an acceptable answer for 'what's your biggest fear?'.  You are
afraid of heights, and that's final."

"That's what you think.  Carson is really scary.  And you know, you
could just fill these out for us, and save everyone a lot of
hassle," Chris suggested helpfully.  He snagged Justin's paper from
in front of him, earning himself a 'Hey!' and started folding it.

"Don't think it didn't occur to me.  But they have to be in your
handwriting."  She looked at him folding the airplane and frowned
before passing him another piece of paper.  "I made extra copies of
the survey.  Don't think you're going to get out of it this
easily."

Chris threw the airplane at Lance.  It hit Joey square in the nose. 
Chris winced.  "I meant to do that.  Really I did."

Joey got out of his chair with an air of menace.

The publicist snapped at him, "Sit down, Fatone.  We're not done
yet."  Joey sat.  Chris stuck his tongue out at him.  "All right. 
We discussed the religion issue, so next is, oh, wait. 
Timberlake."

The golden child blinked.  "Me?  What'd I do?"

"You asked for kosher foods at an industry dinner.  What were you
thinking?  You aren't even Jewish."

"Oh.  My dietician said..."

The publicist held up her hand.  "No.  I don't want to hear it. 
You do not have a dietician."

"Er, um, actually, I do.  Carlos is really good..."

"Twenty one year old pop stars do not have dieticians.  It fucks
with the image.  You like McDonalds and Coke.  Remember this."

"But soda rots your teeth, and red meat..."

"You love them.  Remember this, memorize this, make it your credo."

"I love Coke," Justin repeated dutifully.  "I eat at McDonalds
whenever I get the chance."

"Suck up," Chris whispered.

"You wish."

The publicist cleared her throat.  "Which bring me to my next
topic.  Girlfriends.  Fatone, you're fine.  Get another girl
pregnant though, and I hire someone to cut your balls off. 
Timberlake, make time to be seen in public with Britney sometime in
the next week, holding hands and looking cute, because don't think
I don't know about that McLean thing, no matter how quiet you think
you're keeping it.  Chasez--"

JC looked up from his pink sparkly notebook.  "I'm dating Bobbie. 
I think?"

"Fine.  I'll check on that for you.  Bass, Kirkpatrick..."

Lance didn't look up.  Chris looked innocent.  "Yes?"

"You like girls.  Repeat after me."

"You like girls," Chris repeated.  "*I* like girly men."

Lance swatted Chris across the back of the head without looking up.

"Ow!  C'mon, I was only kidding.  You stopped looking like a
lesbian a long time ago.  At least two weeks."  Chris leaned into
Lance, hand on his thigh.  "And your childbearing hips are kinda
sexy.  Really."

Lance grabbed Chris' hand, pulled it off his leg and dug his
fingers into tender flesh.

"Ow!  That really hurt, you fucker.  It's going to be your fault
when I'm elderly and my hands are all gnarled and twisted with
arthritis.  I'm going to send you the medical bills, see if you
don't."

The publicist was massaging her temples.  "I don't get paid enough
for this shit.  Kirkpatrick, you like girls.  That's final.  You're
not dating Lance.  Now or ever."

Joey groaned.  "Now you've done it."

Chris looked up with a light in his eyes.  "Am so!  Lance is going
to be dating me by the end of the month.  Hundred bucks says so."

"And you don't gamble.  Chasez, *what* were you doing in a casino?"