ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS

They do this sometimes. Joey lives in New York now, so it's not like Chris doesn't see him all the time backstage at Joey's plays, at parties, in between times. Chris has his show, and hell, who knew ratings would be good on a talk show starring some gay ex-boybander? Certainly not Chris, but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And now Joey's back in New York, has been for a few years and every so often they get together without Brianna or any of their friends and just talk. And get shit-faced.

They're back at Joey's apartment, and he can afford something sleek and all windows but it's comfy and warm instead. It's a nice apartment. Unlike Chris, Joey's never bothered to come out because he figures the long-running work on Broadway and the alternating boy and girl friends he brings to parties make it all clear enough.

It's the same conversation they have every time, after the food and the first two drinks. Joey says, "And then Lance is all, wait, man, you slept with who?"

Chris laughs and almost spits up his drink. "And Justin says, 'I slept with him, too!'" It's a really funny story. It's pretty old, but it's still funny.

Chris says, "Justin called me last week. Asked me about you, of course --"

"Even though he called me two days earlier." Joey grins.

"A lot can happen in two days," Chris says with a smirk. "A lot. Anyway, so he's fine, and nothing happened him in that two-day interval between him talking to you and talking to me. And he found his first gray hair."

Joey laughs. His hair is dyed, but there's gray underneath the black. If it weren't for the show, Joey wouldn't dye at all, Chris knows. Chris says, "He was a little panicked. He tried to play it off, blah, blah, but at some point, he said, 'Fuck, I'm only thirty-four! Why me?'"

Joey says, "And then in the background Lance made soothing noises about how it didn't matter, Justin would always be his perfect baby boy, right?"

"Well, Lance said something like, 'Get over it, pretty boy,' but I may have misheard."

Joey gets up and refills both their drinks. "Those two, man, who'da fucking thought? When they got together, I was all, two months. Two months before they kill each other or break up in some huge ugly scene in public. Two fucking months."

"You still owe me that fifty bucks, Fatone." Chris swallows a little of his drink. Joey still looks good. Still built, with that great fucking chest and Chris remembers what Joey looks like naked from the other nights like this.

Joey says, "And now it's been fourteen years. Those fucking kids, man, I'da never thought." Joey gets up and walks to the one big window, looks out over the city.

Lance and Justin have been together fourteen years, since Justin was twenty. Chris looks down at his drink and thinks nothing in his life has lasted that long, except his friendships with Lance, Joey and Justin.

They never talk about JC. Chris thinks about him every day, but there's nothing to say. Joey's good about it, and it's frankly amazing that they can do this, get together and tell all these old stories and somehow Joey never ever mentions JC.

Not fourteen years, they were together eight. JC was twenty-one, then he was twenty-nine. Eight years together and then JC put his hands to his head and winced and cried and it was over. Aneurysm. Aneurysm, Chris still knows how to spell it because he saw it over and over again in the obits and the articles and the tributes. He saw them later. He doesn't remember anything specifically of the year after JC died.

That was ten years ago. Ten years ago and three months and two weeks and five days. Chris doesn't count intentionally, he just knows. One year lost to grief, and the year after he mostly remembers drinking a lot and Joey and Justin hovering over him and keeping him away from high places. Lance matched him drink for drink but never got drunk.

Ten years, Chris thinks. Hell, he thinks. Longer than they were together now. He looks up and says, "Shit, we got booze and I don't have a show tomorrow. We can talk about him, if you want."

Joey turns around and his face is blank. "We don't have to."

Chris says, "It's okay," like saying it makes it so. "It's not like. You've been to my place. I can take it." Chris has pictures up. He doesn't want JC to feel like he's forgotten.

Joey shrugs but he's tense. "I don't need to. I mean, I just don't talk about him with you." Joey tries a smile. Chris gets that, he figures Joey and Lance and Justin have conference calls, maybe, and they talk about JC and say the things they don't say in front of Chris. Mostly, he thinks, they just say they miss him. Chris misses him, too.

Chris says, "Indulge me. Tell me a funny story from the old days and don't edit JC out." Chris can say the name, it's been ten years. He says the name a lot. He says it when he's alone or to his mother. It's easy to say, even to Joey.

Joey sighs and sits down. He rubs his chin, clean-shaven right now because of the show. Chris likes the beard better and he knows Joey does, too. But it's a show and Joey does what required.

Joey says, "Okay. I don't know that you even heard about this. Though, maybe. Okay, so Justin's going through his Dylan phase. Listening to Bob Dylan all the fucking time. Over and over again. It was the tour -- the one where I was on Lance and Justin's bus. Fucking Dylan, man, that whiny ass voice." Joey laughs and sings, "On a night like this, sure nice you came around." Chris manages a smile.

Joey starts up again. "JC comes over to our bus to work on something with Justin and Justin finally turns off the damn CD. Lance says, 'Bless the lord,' and Justin gets all peeved and the two of them do that thing where they argue and get all heated with each other and then fuck. And you know, bless the Lord, that was also the tour where the bus had a back room with a door you could close."

"And they actually closed it?" Chris pours himself another glass of Jack. Lance must have given Joey this bottle, it's expensive and good. Joey just likes to party, he's no connoisseur.

"They closed the door. Though, Lord knows, sometimes they didn't. But, fuck, they learned that trick from you two." Joey looks down and waits for Chris to say something.

Chris laughs. "Okay, okay, so you guys walked in on us a few times."

"A few times?" Joey laughs so hard he almost falls out of his chair. "Okay, seriously, I think Justin learned everything he ever needed to know about gay sex from walking into the quiet room at the wrong moment."

Chris grins. "So he learned from the masters. I hope Lance is suitably grateful."

Joey says, "Yeah, I think he's said that. Anyway. So, me and JC are sitting out on the couch, music back on so we can't hear everything."

"Justin's loud." First time Chris had sex after JC died was four years later, with Justin. About par for the course, Chris thought, a pity fuck from his oldest friend and a day later Lance yelled at both of them, slapped Justin and punched Chris in the gut. Sex without JC hurt Chris's stomach.

"Yeah, man, you only fucked him once, I was on a bus with him for three months." Joey rolls his eyes.

"You heard about that?" Chris covers his face.

"Dude, yes. I was practically on speakerphone for the eight hundred apologies between you and Justin and Justin and Lance and Lance and you. That was a fucked up week." Joey empties his glass and puts it on the table. "So, right. Me and JC listening to Justin and Lance fuck. And Bob Dylan. And I make some smart ass remark and JC's all, hey, sex is beautiful. And I'm still being a jackass and I say, yeah, sex is natural, sex is fun, sex is best when it's one on one. JC joins in because you know, he loved George Michael."

Chris pushes his own glass away. "His secret vice."

"Not so secret. And JC gets that stupid grin and says, 'Sex is beautiful with Chris.'" Joey snorts, smiling. "Okay, it's not a funny story, it's just the first one I thought of."

Chris sighs. "It's a good one." Chris looks at Joey sitting there, still looking good, after all these years. "So, do we need more banter or are we ready to have sex now? I'd like to have sex with you now."

Joey laughs. "Sure, let's have sex now." Joey stands up and grabs Chris's hand as they walk back to the bedroom. "No more of that fucking on the floor when I have a show tomorrow."

Chris has had sex in the last six years, nothing regular, never more than four times in a row with the same guy. Except for Joey. Joey's the biggest guy Chris has ever wanted. Chris always thought he and JC were about the same, just Chris was squished down and compact and JC was stretched thin. Then they're both naked and Chris stops thinking about it.

Joey's like a bear or really warm rug except he kisses way better. An infinite variety of kisses and Chris is panting even before Joey sinks down and takes Chris in his mouth. And that's just a little more than Chris can take. He claws at the bed sheets.

Joey stops and Chris is almost grateful for the chance to breathe again. Joey says, "You know what I want." Joey flips onto his stomach and spreads his legs. "Ride me, you big stud."

Chris laughs. He's saying, "Ride it, ride it," as he thrusts and then it's so hot and tight and he stops thinking about it. He comes and rolls over next to Joey.

Joey puts his arm around Chris and says, "You staying?"

Chris says, "Planning on it," and falls asleep.

He wakes up as Joey is waking up. Chris rubs his eyes. Joey has a picture on his dresser, from the Universal days. Joey had to crop it, but there's Joey and Chris before Chris even thought about NSYNC. Joey pointed out once he was hard in the picture, "As you might expect when I was that close to the Chris Kirkpatrick."

Chris turns to Joey and says, "We should do this more often. More nights like this."

Joey smiles, warm and open as always. He says quietly, "Works for me. More like this, man."

THE END

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