NOTES & DISCLAIMERS: All made up, for entertainment only. Fiction, baby. Thanks to Katie, who is responsible for all of this. And a second round of thanks to Kel, Katie and Younger.

STOP SINGING

The first phone call came at 5 in the morning, which was typical. Justin didn't really move, head against the cold window of the car, legs spread. He didn't really move but he opened the phone. "What?"

"Aren't you the friendliest pop star in all of bonnie old England." Chris. Chris said it lightly, his voice quiet.

"Why are you calling?"

"Did I ever tell you -- okay, so, in high school I had this history teacher, Paula Blake. Naturally, we called her Mrs. Blake, but also, you know, this was when Paula Abdul hit big. So, 'how about some information, please,'" Chris sang. Justin winced.

"Please don't sing to me, man."

"You like my voice. Anyway, so Paula Abdul. Sometimes, me and my friend Jay, we'd sit in the back and be, 'P-p-p-paula needs to be t-t-t-talla.' Isn't that funny?" Chris snorted.

"Was that when you were dropped on your head? Were you this insane the last few years?" Justin rubbed his head. "Scratch that, I know you were. But now you're calling me. Please stop."

"Dude, Paula Abdul! Now she's riding this American Idol high. Did you see those pictures from the Emmys? What an awful dress. Those were the days, man, my joyful high school days. I used to go home and watch Alyssa Milano on Who's The Boss and what do you think she's doing now?"

"Hanging up now. I have eight hundred things to do today. I don't care." Justin hung up. He looked at the phone in his hand and opened it again. Dialed and waited for Chris to pick up. "I forgot to say bye. And love you. Bye." He hung up again.

*

The second call was twenty-three hours later. "What the fuck, man, it's, um," Justin shuffled around his room in the dark and wondered why he'd taken off his watch. Then he tripped over his sneakers, lined up against the chair, and fell on the bed. He craned his neck up and said, "Fuck you, Chris, it's called time zones and it's 4:01 am. I have to be up in two hours and I want my sleep."

"Hey, Cranky McCrankypants, it's not 4 am for me. Besides, it's good for you." Chris, the little twisted fuck, sounded cheerful and well rested. Justin pictured him sitting comfortably on a couch, or outside in the sun in Florida somewhere. Somewhere pretty, maybe, and Chris wasn't pretty at all but he fit in.

Justin remembered to snarl. "How is getting woken up by you good for me?"

"It's good for you, trust me. Something unplanned that you can't order fixed." Chris sucked on a straw. Justin was pretty sure that that was that sound. That, he thought. If he thought it too much it would be just another sound and not a word at all.

Justin was pretty sure he was still drunk.

He said, "What're you drinking, fucker?"

"Crème de some-young-guy." Chris laughed. "Water, I'm sipping expensive Italian water through a straw. You picturing it?"

Justin said, "No, fuck off," and Justin knew he was lying.

Chris said, "You drunk? Went to bed drunk, still buzzing? Come on, tell me."

"Maybe. I wanna go back to sleep. Tell me why you called."

"I called to say hello. I just called to say I love you," Chris started singing.

Justin took the phone away from his ear and hit it against the bed two times. "Did you hear that? Stop singing!"

"Stop shouting. Man, you're wound way too tight." Chris made that sipping noise again. It was obscene, right next to Justin's ear, so loud.

"What do you want?"

"So you got the why aren't you working with Wade question, huh? That was kinda smooth."

Justin closed his eyes and thought about going back to sleep. "Were you listening on the computer or something?"

"Fuck, no, way too late for me. I just waited for someone to post the mp3s. That's what I do with all your interviews. I'm on the JJB, lj, it's like no work for me at all to follow your media blitz."

"El-jay? What's that?"

"A place where a firm grip on the scroll button is a very good thing. Don't worry about it. See, if I'd been asked about the Wade thing, I would have said, we have this firm rule about choreographers not sleeping with Lance --"

"Shut up." Justin hung up and turned off his phone.

After the print interview and the radio and the photo shoot and the third bottle of water he'd had to ask for twice, his British publicist handed him a cell phone.

Justin said, "Hello?"

Chris said, "Yo, man, turn on your phone."

Justin smiled at the people in the room and held up one finger. Then he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Chris said, "Stop breathing so heavy and talk to me, ass." He sounded bored.

"Pardon me for wanting a little privacy. How are you?"

"Fuck off. I'm fine, of course. Sorry to piss you off by bringing up both of the ex-boyfriends. But it's really fun."

"The most painful part is my replacements, you know?" Justin leaned his forehead against the tile wall. Blessedly clean, he could tell, and cool. "I'm running on fumes here, man, I don't wanna talk about this."

"Well, yeah, Howie and that other one are pretty, well, not you. I'd take you over both of those in a heartbeat."

Justin sighed and said, "I have a sort of girlfriend." He hung up again and crushed the phone against the wall. It was very satisfying. More than meditating and he'd have to remember that.

He'd had to buy the PR woman a new phone and be extra nice to her all day to make sure she really believed he'd accidentally stepped on the phone after dropping it. He didn't want the story to be "Justin smashes phone in rage." They'd probably add something about Brit or Alyssa.

*

He turned his phone on before he went to bed. It rang two seconds later. "Yo, yo, baby pop!"

"Hi, Chris, how are you?"

"Super! Splendid!" Chris giggled.

"You're on the damn RV again?" Justin settled back against the headboard and carefully toed off his sneakers.

"No, dude. Dude, I'm in LA. For serious, JC's guy can hook a guy up with the good stuff." Chris laughed loudly and Justin sighed.

"What time is it there and what are you doing?"

"Time is passing us by, kemo sabe. And it's just pot. Chill your Nancy Reagan horses."

Justin sat up and removed his socks, folded them and reached down to place them next to his shoes. He started to say something but then Chris said, "Why do you always date child stars?"

"What?"

"Okay, I was just thinking. Lance, Wade, Brit, Janet, Alyssa. Why do you always date child stars?"

"Lance isn't a child star. And we didn't really date. I mean, okay, sort of, really, but he's not a child star. And, plus, you left someone off that list."

Chris swallowed. It was, again, very loud. Justin was impressed with his reception. Chris said, "Ah, little turnaround there. And I was counting Lance as a child star because he didn't finish high school. Because of the group."

"Those are some very loose qualifications. I mean, if you get your GED through a correspondence course, you're a child star?" Justin unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off.

"No, actual show business work is required. And yes, I left a name off the list, but it's the exception that proves the point. What's your fascination with child stars? Can't relate to the rest of us?"

Justin folded his dirty jeans and put them on top of the socks. He said, "You're the exception that proves the rule. What do you think?"

Chris hung up. Justin grinned and went to sleep.

*

Justin called Chris the next night. Chris sounded tired. He said, "Dude, dude, this house is freaky."

"Whose house? What do you mean, freaky?"

"JC's house," Chris said, now more exasperated than tired, by the sound of it. "I'm still at JC's."

Justin rolled over onto his other side and looked at the curtains, almost glowing with the lights behind them. London, bright and true. He said, "Dude, not to be all, okay, whatever. What's your damage? You spend three days calling me all the time and being mean to me and then I poke you once and you hang up. What's up with that?"

"I didn't want you to get a swelled head." Chris coughed. "And, you know, I can't say the album's bad because I love it."

"Thank you."

"So, I went for, you know, things I knew would get a rise out of you. Also, you're just funny when you're all riled up." Chris coughed again. "Fucking pot, man, I should quit."

"You should, man. And then why'd you hang up yesterday?"

"Hey, we had a deal about that." Chris coughed for a full minute and then said, "I think I just lost a lung."

"We had no deal. What deal?"

"The no talking about us deal. That deal. And we very much had a deal." Chris paused. "You don't care about my lung?"

"I know you're fine, you need your lungs to breathe, okay? We had no deal. Gimme a break. Everyone knows, man." Justin rolled onto his other side and stared at the wall.

"They do not. And we had a deal. And, even if you've forgotten, I am not talking about our once upon a time relationship while I'm stoned out my head and JC is hanging on every word, just as stoned as I am and no way."

Justin sighed. "Where's JC right now?"

"Doing something with Tony. You know Tony was his first lover?"

"I've heard that story, man. A million times." Justin curled up tighter. "I'm tired. I wish Joey were here."

"Joey?"

"If Joey were here, I'd go to his room and sit on his bed and I'd make a face and he'd push me back on the bed and rub my back and make me change the channel on the TV so we were watching Nightline and then he'd talk about Briahna and I'd fall asleep there and he'd take my room. Like that." Justin closed his eyes and pictured it.

Chris said, "That'd be nice."

"Also, I'm a little pissed off at my mother."

"Holy fuck," Chris said softly. "Dude, you want me to come out there?"

"Shut up, I'm fine. I'm just sayin'."

"You never say that. Ever." Chris sounded very serious which was nice in the attention being paid way, but scary in every other way.

"Well, it's just a little."

"Okay. But you're the biggest mama's boy, like, ever. I'm just a little scared over here." Chris almost laughed.

"Yeah, fuck you. She's just, you know, pushing a little much." Justin rolled onto his back, stretched out. "I'm tired, man, I gotta go."

"Okay. See you when you get back, right?"

Justin meant to say "yes" or "definitely" but he heard himself say "please" and he supposed that was good enough.

Chris said, "See you soon, man."

Justin said, "Love you," and hung up. He fell right to sleep.

*

"So that was Europe. And England." He said and sat back on his couch.

"I think they're the same thing now." Chris didn't move but he did smile.

"I paid for things in pounds and not Euros, so, I'm counting them as separate. Now. Back to the fucking point. Saw you on that stupid sports show." Justin grinned.

"I was very good on that stupid sports show."

"What was that guy wearing? That striped ensemble? And what was up with your shirt?" Justin leaned back and waited for the couch to swallow him. Swallow him whole and let him sleep.

Justin opened his eyes and Chris was right there. Not on the other couch, but sitting right next to him. Justin said, "I was kinda hoping for quiet. But you're here and I only have fifteen hours before it's back to work. So, I thought maybe if you talked yourself out, you wouldn't try and call me a fuckload."

"A fistfuckload is even more fun to say."

Justin leaned over and closed his eyes. Chris's hand, warm and safe, around his head and Justin thought he'd just go to sleep. Now. He said, instead, "I can do it all. It's nothing, really. I've been doing this forever, it's really nothing. I could use a little more sleep, maybe."

"Cut down on your busy social calendar, maybe."

Justin laughed. "Yeah. It's very busy. It's fucking packed. Parties are relaxing."

"For you? About half the time. And then there's the part where you want to make sure you talk to the right people, where you want to make sure you've charmed all the right people and then there's the part where you need to remember you don't have three ex-boyfriends at all, because, no, no, no mentioning that. Or looking at people in a way that might imply that maybe there's a chance you have three ex-boyfriends."

"Ain't no stoppin' me now." Justin sighed. "I should sleep for this. These fifteen hours."

Chris laughed. "Babe, you got ten different watches. You've got fourteen."

"Fuck."

"Hell, we can do that." Chris didn't sound serious.

"Um. We stopped doing that. Your idea." Justin smiled and snuggled closer. Chris was warm and it was stupid that that was all Justin could think, nothing deeper. Justin couldn't find any words, except warm and maybe, everything.

"Yes. Granted, you were seventeen and I was, well, legal to drink in every state in the union. But that's neither here nor there. Maybe a nice stress relief for you. Stress free fuck. I'm here for you, little buddy." Chris rubbed Justin's back. It didn't feel sensual.

"Oh, that's a turn-on. Stress free. Little buddy. Are you having sex with me, or making me herbal tea?"

Chris tipped Justin's chin up and Justin opened his eyes. Chris said, "Which do you want?"

Justin blinked. "I want to sleep. But you should stay. You make a nice pillow."

Chris laughed and then Justin went to sleep.

He woke up drooling on Chris's lap. He knew it was Chris's lap, because of the smell and the jeans. Chris said, "Your eyes are open, you're twitching. Want me to make you some tea?"

Justin pushed off the couch. "I can make my own tea. You, you stay there and think about, uh, I don't know. Fuck me, I'm still tired."

He had eight million packets of tea. At least eight million. When Justin opened the cabinet door there were so many scents, he couldn't distinguish anything. Like the roar of a crowd when you just heard noise and couldn't tell what anyone was saying. Justin said, "I need other metaphors."

He grabbed one from a box, a tea bag so he didn't have to fuck around too much. Just a little. Heated water in a mug in the microwave, dropped in the bag, and then a drop of honey. He walked a few paces and realized he should make some for Chris. It would be polite.

He came back in the room and Chris was watching MTV Hits. "I like this channel. No commercials, no stupid Real World. Just videos."

"There's a fistfuckload of channels like that now. M2. VH1 Classic. VH1 Classic is all your speed, man. They have, like, videos from your joyful high school days. Like Paula Abdul."

Chris started singing "rush, rush" and Justin looked for something to throw at him. Both his hands were full. He put Chris's cup down on the table in front of him, and kept his cup in his hand. He took a sip and then whapped Chris on the head. "Stop singing."

"You keep saying that. I thought you liked my voice." Chris took a sip of his tea. "Thanks for the tea."

"You're using your voice for evil. Like, fuck, man, for evil."

"No, no. You know what's evil? When you're in a band with five guys, and then see, you're doing this solo thing and you have four guys dancing behind you. That's, I think, maybe evil. Or something." Chris put his cup down and rested his hands on his thighs.

Justin rubbed his neck. "Whoa, fuck, whiplash. We were talking about something and now, here you are, bringing up something from almost two months ago." He meant to get really pissy and almost yell, but he was too tired to raise his voice.

"I was just waiting for the right time."

Justin said, "Fuck you. It was just, it was the way it worked out, which is what I said to JC and it wasn't a thing and you're suddenly making it a thing after telling me it was okay and fucking defending me to JC?" This time he raised his voice. "Fucking whiplash, man, what's your plan this time? Whip me around til I can't see straight and then we, what, fuck?"

Chris sighed. "Don't worry about it anymore. You're getting gray hairs while we sit here. Don't worry about it."

"No, no, can I? Don't just fucking dismiss me." It was surreal, Justin supposed, that he felt like he was sinking to nothingness, and they were just sitting next to each other on the couch. "Are you actually mad?"

Chris shrugged. "I'm not. I'm just, I'm being an ass. I like to wind you up. Make sure I can still fuck around with you."

Justin put down his cup with a clatter. Loud. Louder than the TV. He stood up and said, "You win. Fuck you. Get out of my house, I'm going to sleep." He walked up the stairs and went into his bedroom.

Five minutes later Chris was in the room, Justin could tell. Justin said, "I'm still mad. I'm too tired to get up, but I'm still mad. Don't jerk me around because you can. It's shitty and uncool."

"Okay, I know. It's just, man, I was thinking." Chris sat down on the bed, Justin was pretty sure, the bed dipped and all the things Chris smelled of, sweat, lotion, jeans, something else, it was all closer.

"Stop thinking, stop singing. Do all those things. Leave me alone."

"I don't wanna. You know? For eight million reasons, I hate when I leave you alone. So, you know, sorry for being an ass." Justin turned his head and looked. Chris was lying next to him, smiling.

"Okay, okay. You win. What do you want?"

Chris smiled. "How about I don't leave you alone?"

Justin closed his eyes and rubbed the soft pillowcase. "Well. You don't. Like, ever. You already don't. That's not gonna change."

"Well, yeah, not being stupid, I know that. But, you know. It's weird without you around as much. And you're off doing shit without us. Or, really, me. And I'll turn around one day and you'll have turned into, I don't know, some person I don't know. So I'm not gonna leave and you're gonna need to change right in front of me." Chris rested his hand on Justin's waist. Warm, Justin thought. Then, stupid, and find another word.

"Okay. I just. I'm in argument mode, man." Justin grinned and moved closer.

"Let's fuck and then you won't be and then you know, I'll be here. And we'll work out the rest. It's not because, you know, I think you're leaving me. It's just, you know, the specter of these things. It reminds me of things. Like, you know, that I like you. And you're mostly likeable. And now I'm all titillated by the thought of fucking you again. I bet you've gotten better at it."

"I'm really fucking likeable. People might even say charming or adorable. But I'd believe it more from you." They were so close and dressed and not so much touching, not touching. They were bonding. Justin almost laughed.

"Look, this seems pretty settled. Or, really, close as we're getting to settled in the thirteen hours we have left. Let's fuck."

"First, sing me a song." Justin licked his lips. "I like it when you sing, really."

Chris laughed. A high-pitched laugh. Justin liked it a lot. Then he sang and then Justin made him stop and they fucked and it was all much better.

THE END

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