Nick/Justin - stoned

"Noooo," Nick moaned, sheilding his eyes and blinking rapidly as someone opened the door to his little hideaway, flooding the room with light. It was wrecking his groove, he'd been groovin' good on the dim little television and the smoke in the air and the comfy squishy couch with the many pillows. And the being alone, he liked that too, he could talk to the tv without feeling too dumb. "Go 'way and close the door, too much light, light BAD."

The door closed, but the invader was on the inside which was not what Nick intended at all. He couldn't see who it was, but he could just *tell*, it was rubbing up against his aura or something.

"Dude or dudette," he finally said, even more irritated that the person wasn't speaking or moving or anything, how rude, "go away. Go find your own little room, there's like a million in this house, I think, probably. Go ask whoever lives here." He waved a hand, like it would magically make the person disappear. "And if you see Howie or AJ or Brian, tell 'em I need chips and beer. If you know who those people are. If not, don't worry 'bout it."

There was the distinctive rustling sound of a chip bag a moment later. "Saw 'em already," the aura-disturber said, and it was definitely a dude, or maybe an East German aerobics instructor. Though that would be a little strange. "They pointed me this way. Kind of. In this general direction."

"Hate them," Nick declared mildly, reaching a hand towards the tempting chip-bag-like sounds. "Gimmee chips, and go away. I'm, um, mediating. I mean, meditating. Yeah, that one. I have to do it alone, with chips, so you gotta go. Sorry." The person was interrupting Nick's peaceful viewing of something that was maybe a Spanish soap opera. He'd been having fun talking for all the voices."

"I'm gonna stay, okay?" he said, which wasn't in the script at ALL and wouldn't have been funny even if Nick had been doing the voice. "For a while. I like meditating. I won't bother you."

"You're already bothering me," Nick pointed out, but he got distracted by Juanita and Ramon on the tv, who appeared to be breaking all the glassware in their home. "No, Ramon!" Nick waved a hand dramatically, "I cannot choose between you and the cabana boy Raoul! You are both far too smolderingly sexy, but he is hotter and you are richer! I must have you both!" He reached for the chips, got a good look at his intruder, and startled back against the cushions of the couch. "Holy shit!"

"Ah, but there is one thing you do not know, my sweet naive Juanita," said Justin, faking a terrible accent, handing Nick the chips and inviting himself right into Nick's nest. "It is not you the cabana boy Raoul desires at all!"

Nick just stared at Justin, mouth opening and closing like a fish. A big, confused fish, he thought, and snapped his mouth closed again, but what was Justin DOING here? And why was he talking like Ramon? "What the fuck are you doing here, Justin? And why are you talking like Ramon?" He took the chips on autopilot and munched a huge mouthful, sighing in happiness, before focusing back on Justin. "Shouldn't you be...somewhere? Doing something? With someone else?"

Justin sighed too. "Okay, fine," he said. "I know a guy who knows a guy who has some stuff, right? And so I was talking to that guy and making a deal when I got a call from this other guy who knows a guy who knows you, and then the other guy the one I was with got a call, and somehow I ended up..." He shifted in his seat and tugged something out of his pocket. "Here, this is for you. Saved some poor underpaid lackey a trip out here, or wherever you'd arranged to get it."

"I have no idea what you just said," Nick informed him solemnly, "but I think that's my eighth of kind bud from Johnny. Not that Johnny, different Johnny." He took the bag from Justin reverently. "Thanks, man. Sorry about almost kicking you out, I had no idea you were bringing me supplies." He sniffed the bag happily. "Yum. Stinky. Hey, you can stay for a minute if you want, but you don't gotta, I know you're all kinds of busy and five thousand people are probably lookin' for you right now."

"Nope," said Justin, and tucked his pocket back right-way in before getting comfortable again. He even stole a pillow. "Who are Ramon and Juanita?"

"Dude." Nick disapproved of pillow-theft, but was quickly distracted by Ramon's screeching. "Oh, it's some show, I dunno. I think they're married, maybe, but it's so hard to tell, they might just be brother and sister?" He tilted his head and squinted at the television, trying to figure it out. "I gotta learn Spanish. Totally useful language, and then I could mock Howie and he wouldn't even know it. Dude speaks none of his native tongue, it's shameful."

"Ramon just said he wants his money back," said Justin, frowning at the television for a moment. "I like your version better. Howie can't speak Spanish? I should've brought more than one bag of chips. Brian doesn't know what he's doing."

"Huh? What's Brian doing?" Nick was having trouble following Justin's train of thought; it seemed to keep jumping from track to track, and Nick was pretty sure trains weren't supposed to do that. He frowned a little at Justin, but ate a chip and felt better. "Howie speaks a tiny bit of really bad Spanish. Hey, you know what Ramon and Juanita are saying? Is there anything about food in there? 'Cause I was sure they were talking about cake, before, but I see no cake."

"Cake?" said Justin, frowning at the television again. "Hey, do you have any? That would be even better than chips."

"No cake," Nick told him, regretfully. Cake really DID sound good. "Why didn't Brian send cake and chips? That dumbass. He should've known we'd need food." He grabbed a handful of chips and chomped on them, almost vindictively. "Paris would've brought cake," he said sadly, through chip-crumbs, and stared hard at the television to distract himself from thinking about HER.

"Some people were very good at remembering the importance of junk food," agreed Justin, licking grease off his fingers. It was even more interesting than Juanita and Ramon, even if it didn't require dialogue. "SOME people were very good at a lot of things. Even if they are incredibly dumb about other things."

"Paris was really good at sex," Nick agreed, sighing, watching Justin lick his thumb. "Probably still is good at it, only now she's being good at it with other people. I'm really thirsty, how far do you think it is from here to, like, beer or soda or something like that?"

"Well," said Justin, rolling his head back to think about it. "It's about a mile to the door, and then there's that hallway with the broken light, and then... it's really far, I think. I miss sex."

"Me too," Nick agreed, heartfelt. "Wait, no, I've been having that. But it's not the same, when you're doing somebody different every time. Paris knew just exactly what I liked, and, y'know, tongue and fingers just RIGHT, and I knew where she was ticklish, and..." he trailed off, shaking his head to get the buzz-killing thoughts out. "Wanna share a J? Heh, hey J, wanna smoke a J?" He giggled at his own hysterical joke.

Justin thought it was funny too. Justin laughed the same way Paris would have laughed, back when Paris would have been there to laugh. "Got nowhere else to be," Justin said, then, "Oh, Ramon, you look stunning in my red pumps. Why do you not wear them more often?"

"Whoa, seriously?" Nick's attention snapped back to the television, and he snickered. "Nice. Maybe his name should be Dorothy, not Ramon. No, Juanita, these are MY Pradas! Yours are a far more tacky shade of red!" He toasted Ramon with the pot, then elbowed Justin lightly. "Go get soda or beer or something while I'm rolling, or my tongue's gonna stick to my teeth and I won't be able to talk and you'll be bored and stuff. And food."

"I'll be food?" said Justin, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet again. "That'll be the day. Though actually I don't mind being eaten so much... what did you say you wanted to drink?"

Nick blinked through his confusion, watching Justin struggle to his feet. "No, no, you have to BRING food. And I dunno, something wet and cold to drink that's not water, 'kay? And maybe cookies, but salty too. Just bring whatever you can find. And don't tell anyone I'm here, okay? It's a secret."

"Wait, why do I have to go?" said Justin, hovering for a moment. "I won't be able to find my way back. I'll get lost. Do you want me to get lost, is that it? Because then you'll never get your food and you'll wither and die."

Nick blinked at him. "That would be really bad," he agreed, after a moment of thought. "Um. Hm. I can't go, or someone'll want to talk to me and tell me how bad they feel that I'm single, and maybe offer to blow me, and that part wouldn't be so bad 'cept I'm more picky now. You shouldn't get lost. Huh. Maybe...I wish we had a servant or someone to send. Or a trained dog, who knew how to get drinks and food and things, because dogs never get lost."

"Or a *monkey*," said Justin, nodding his head firmly. "Because... monkey!"

"Yes! Only, a monkey that never crapped. 'Cause that's just nasty," Nick reminded him, giggling at the thought of Justin sending out a monkey to get them food. "Dude," he mourned, a moment later, "I'm HUNGRY. And I got cottonmouth like...like...like if I put cotton in my mouth. What do we do?" He flung himself back on the couch in despair, taking up all the space and spreading out.

Justin stood there looking thoughtful for a moment. Or possibly constipated. "What's in it for me if I go?" he asked finally. As if food and drink and stuff weren't *enough*.

Nick thought too, and then grinned. "I'll let you stay here, after," he offered. "And you can smoke some of my stuff. And I won't even bitch about it." He made hopeful eyes at Justin. "You can pick the tv channel." It was the ultimate sacrifice, and he hoped Justin appreciated it. Especially since he couldn't remember the last time they'd had anything nice to say to each other, and this whole situation was seriously surreal.

"And give up Juanita and Ramon?" said Justin, gasping. "Never. Okay, I'll go hunt down some stuff and bring it back and lock the door and hide in here with you until the world goes back to normal again. Okay? It might take a while."

"Dude," Nick said severely, "that could take YEARS. We at least have to leave to use the can." He smiled wide at Justin, though, his biggest happiest most grateful smile, because Justin was going to get FOOD and DRINKS and Nick just loved Justin right then. "I love you, man, you're the best," he said, meaning it with every atom of his stoned self. "Hurry back."

Justin leaned in and gave Nick a smacking kiss on the forehead and then vanished from the room. It was almost like magic, except on his way out he slipped on the rug and banged his shoulder on the doorframe and said a few curses even Nick was unfamiliar with before the door slammed behind him.

The room felt quiet and empty after Justin left, and Nick sighed a little. He always preferred to be stoned with people, and Justin had been surprisingly good company, and pretty to look at, and he hadn't laughed at Ramon and Juanita. Nick hoped he got back soon, with food. "Oh my god," he gasped, suddenly distracted. "That's the poolboy! Juanita, you slut, you!" He refocused on the tv so hard he didn't even really notice when Justin came back in, arms full.

"Everyone knows you're in here," he said, startling Nick enough that he jumped in his seat. "They're talking about you. I don't like them very much so I took all their food. Here, have a drink."

"Aw, shit," Nick said, looking up at him guiltily. "Are they mad? Are the fellas, are they upset at all? 'Cause I'm not supposed to hide at parties, we've gotta, with the new album and all, we're s'posed to be working and stuff, making contacts..." he sighed, and shook his head. He just didn't have the energy right now. "Thanks, man. You saved my life." He grabbed a Sprite and drank the whole thing without pausing to take a breath.

"Not mad," said Justin around a mouthful of... Nick didn't know what, actually, Justin had stuffed in his mouth. "Said to let you be until you figured out that you were better off. I dropped a big metal bowl on Kevin's foot. I didn't think you'd mind."

"No," Nick said, startled into a grin. "Was he totally mad? Did he do the thing with the eyebrows? You're brave, Justin, he can be totally scary." He grudgingly dropped one of his legs off the couch, giving Justin a little space to sit down in. "Here, siddown, bring that food over here. The didn't like Paris, well, AJ did, but they don't gotta be mean. *I* liked her."

"He didn't know it was me," said Justin proudly. "I was sneaky about it. Why did you like Paris?"

"You're kind of hard to miss," Nick pointed out, watching Justin settle. "She was...she liked me. She was nice to me, and she didn't want my money, or my fame, or anything like that, she just really liked ME. And she was pretty, and fun, and stuff. And really good at sex." He sighed wistfully, remembering the sex. "She wasn't really smart or anything, but she was pretty great, and I miss her a lot." He drank a beer. "How's Cameron?" He asked, just to be polite.

Justin suddenly looked angry, angry like Kevin would look angry when a bowl was dropped on his foot, only without the eyebrows. "I was being nice to you," he said. "Why do you have to be mean to me?"

"What?" Nick was so confused he sat up, staring at Justin. "What? Mean? I wasn't, I wouldn't! Why's it mean to ask about your girlfriend? I don't understand."

Justin didn't look any happier at Nick's attempt at peace. "Don't tell me you didn't know," he snapped. "You aren't *that* dumb." Nick liked him a lot better when he was being fun.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nick defended himself, trying to sound as smart as he possibly could. Then he paused; he vaguely remembered hearing a rumor about Justin and Cameron, but they'd been denied outright by the couple, who'd been inseperable since. "But you denied the rumors!" he exclaimed, before Justin could speak. "You're still together! Isn't she even here tonight, I was sure I saw her!"

"She's here," Justin agreed with him darkly. "But not with me. And *you* made me go back out there and find more food, even though I'm a party crasher who just came to give you your stuff."

"Oh," Nick said, feeling small. "I'm sorry, man, I had no idea. Honest, I didn't. I never would've, if I had, I thought you were just here, with her, and all." He laid an awkward hand on Justin's shoulder. "I just, I'm sorry, man, I thought you two were solid. What happened?"

"You first," said Justin, throwing himself onto the sofa. "Better yet, you first, and then I'll take you up on your offer and not have to remember it at all anymore."

Nick moved to give Justin more space on the sofa, still feeling guilty. "I've got a j rolled," he offered, holding it out. "It made me feel lots better. We were just fighting a lot, and she said she wanted to date someone without so many issues, and I wanted to date someone who, I dunno, wasn't maybe a little slutty with other guys, and we just kinda..." he split his hands apart sharply.

Justin snorted. "She wants to date the famous but she wants someone without issues? She was *lucky* to get you."

Nick shrugged, noncommittally. He WAS jealous and insecure, and he DID have a ton of issues, but if Justin didn't know about them, all the better for Nick. "What happened with YOU?" He asked, definitely curious. Justin and Cameron really had convinced him they were in it for the long haul, though Nick knew he wasn't the hardest person to fool, by a long shot.

"I think we decided that I didn't have to tell you," said Justin. "Where'd that... did you take it away? That's not nice. My buzz is fading."

"We did?" Nick tried to remember, couldn't, and pouted a little. He wanted to know, but he couldn't really demand information if he'd already told Justin he didn't have to say. "Here. Sustain the buzz, man." He handed the joint back with a sigh, and reached for the bag of popcorn Justin had found.

Justin inhaled deeper than Nick imagined he could. It was mesmerizing. "Thanks," he said, huffing out only a tiny bit of air. "I hate women. They're all terrible awful things. Don't need em."

"Nah," Nick protested instinctively. "They're nice sometimes. They smell good, and they've got tits. I like those." He sighed a little. "Paris didn't have hardly any, but I didn't care." He looked curiously at Justin, watching him smoke. "Was she bad to you? Cameron? You don't have a new girlfriend yet, I guess."

"No, they're not nice, they just pretend to be nice and then they get what they want from you and then they're GONE, and they go get married to someone else and act like you were nothing to them."

Nick was very confused again; that sounded more like Britney than Cameron, but she'd been broken up with Justin for just *ages*. Unless Cameron was getting married too, in which case, Nick would have to feel double-bad for Justin. "Um," he said tentatively, "you mean...is that...Cameron isn't getting married, is she? I'm not getting this," he admitted, hating the plaintive note in his own voice. He grabbed the joint back and drew in a huge hit, hoping it would make up for his evident lack of intelligence.

"No, Cameron's not getting married," said Justin, rolling his head back and staring at the ceiling. Juanita and Ramon were giving each other the silent treatment, punctuated by the sound of dishes breaking. "But she's no different than the rest of them."

Nick patted Justin's shoulder hesitantly again, hoping he wouldn't get hit for it, counting on the pot to keep Justin mellow. He was unable to resist offering SOME kind of comfort, though, when anyone was looking so miserable. "Some of them are all right," he offered quietly. "Kevin's wife is great. And, and I really like some other ones, too, mostly the ones I'm not dating, but still. You can find great girls. You'll find one, I bet."

"No way," he said, looking back over both shoulders. Nick wondered what the hell he was doing until he realized Justin was looking for the joint. "I'm through, I'm done, never again. This heart is closed for business."

"Aw, hey," Nick kept patting, while handing Justin the joint. "Now, it don't gotta be like that. Right now, I know, it sucks, it's bad, I know, I'm right there too. Here, smoke s'more of this, it totally helped me realize that I'm gonna meet someone better than Paris. Someday. Probably."

"Okay, maybe that's a little extreme," said Justin, taking another hit, just like before. Nick watched his chest expand. "Closed to girls, then. That shouldn't be too difficult to stick to."

"You mean..." Nick did NOT want to jump to conclusions about this, not when the reaction could be potentially violent. And the pot kept his surprise that Justin might consider boys to a distant sort of feeling. "Um. I don't know what you mean, really. Gonna date inflatable sheep?" That seemed safe enough.

Justin snorted, then coughed for long enough that Nick started to get worked he wasn't going to breathe in again. "Sure," he got out finally, and to Nick's relief sucked in a huge breath through his nose. "Until I got bored and wanted something that could actually touch me back."

"That's a plus," Nick agreed, offering Justin a beer. "Here, drink something. And, y'know, good luck. With whatever you date, or whoever, or whatever, you know what I mean." He grinned, conciliating. "In the meantime, here's to exes, damn 'em." He lifted his own beer, offering his toast.

Justin took the beer and looked at it a little curiously, then clanked it against Nick's hard. "To exes," he agreed, and nearly drank down the whole thing in one gulp.

"At least your breakup isn't all over the news," Nick said glumly, after swallowing. "Nobody wants to talk to me 'bout anything but Paris. And if we're getting back together, and why we broke up, and who she was cheating on me with, and all that kinda stuff. But, hey, let's talk about something happier. What's happier that we can talk about?"

Justin looked pensive again. It sure seemed to take him a long time to think about things. "Oh Ramon," he squeaked out finally. "Do that again, my love! It makes me think of the first time we were together, in the hotel lobby under the big plant, when you... yes, that!"

Nick snorted and almost choked on his unexpected laughter. "Oh Juanita," he retorted, deepening his voice and taking on a ridiculous accent, "how could I forget that you taste like huevos rancheros? My little tamale of love, kiss me! Love me!" He made passionate sloppy kissing sounds against his own arm, matching them to the onscreen action.

Justin leaned over and smacked a wet kiss on Nick's neck. "Oh Ramon!" he said breathily. "You make me feel like a woman!"

Nick jumped a mile, clapped a hand over the place Justin had kissed, and laughed nervously, uncertainly. "Oh, Juanita," he had to clear his throat before he went on, "you are the ONLY woman for me. I don't care what you did with that pool boy, as long as you forgive me for killing your cat!" He thanked the pot buzz that let him relax back onto the couch and not stare at Justin or, well, get up and leave the room, or hyperventilate, or whatever he'd have done normally.

Of course, doing that allowed Justin to get even closer, warm and heavy against Nick's side. "Of course I forgive you, Ramon," he said. "I would forgive you for anything so long as you continue to do that thing you do with your tongue."

Nick gave a mental shrug. It wasn't anything he hadn't done with the fellas before, after all, and Justin seemed kind of lonely and sad, and Nick knew the feeling. So he slung an arm over Justin's shoulders, gave him a little squeeze, and passed the joint back. "I shall remember that, Juanita my darling," he said, giggling a little. "I will keep my tongue in perfect working order!"

"My darling Ramon!" said Justin, then took the joint and stopped talking altogether for a little while. "Wait," he blurted out after a moment. "End credits! Noooooo."

"Awwwwwww!" Nick echoed his disappointment, and threw a piece of popcorn at the screen. "No, we want more! What happened to the pool boy? He was just left there, all alone, he lost Juanita an' I bet Ramon's going to fire him now! They left him alone and unemployed! Boooo!" He grabbed for the remote, though, aware that it didn't usually work to yell at the tv and they needed to find something else to watch. "Eh, there's probably not much on, but you got any preference?"

"Well," said Justin, reaching for the popcorn. "The pool boy was pretty cute."

Nick looked at Justin sideways. Another hint, or whatever, and Nick had no idea what to do with it. "I guess I didn't notice," he mumbled, which was true enough. "There's...basketball," he flipped channels, "The Home Shopping Network, um, Law and Order Halfway through...here, you take this." He had no idea what kind of thing Justin liked to watch, but he knew that he himself didn't care, much.

Justin just left the channel where it was, dropping the remote. "Here," he said, handing the joint back for the last time, "you might be able to get a bit more off this. I think your hands are smaller than mine."

Nick tried, and failed. "Nah, it's kicked," he said regretfully. "I got more, but I'm actually good for now." His head was pleasantly fuzzy, his arms and legs felt warm and heavy, and he was smiling for no reason at all. "Good stuff. Thanks for bringing it. And getting the food, and stuff, that was really cool. You're like an angel tonight." He giggled, sudden and high. "A marijuana angel!"

Justin smiled and looked up at the ceiling again, exhaling slowly. "That's the nicest thing I've been called in days," he said, and it sounded like he meant it.

"What, "pop god," doesn't do it for you any more?" Nick tipped his head at him. "I think that's what MTV called you the other day. 'Course, it's not as nice for ME as marijuana angel, but it's a lot more public." He propped his feet next to Justin's on the coffee table, snickering at how Justin's shoes were inches longer than his. "You got big feet, Justin."

Justin looked down at his feet and grinned. "I do!" he said delightedly. "And you know what they say about big feet, don't you?"

Nick snorted. "Big shoes?" He looked at Justin, suddenly wildly curious. "Is it true that you have over ten thousand pairs of shoes? Really? Or did they just make that shit up?"

"Ten THOUSAND?" giggled Justin, staring at him then bending over laughing. "A couple hundred, maybe. Five hundred tops. I'm not fucking... whathername. That Filipino lady with the shoes. What WAS her name? Chris used to call me that because he thought it was funny."

"Quiero. Wait, no, that's 'love.' Heh, maybe Chris was calling you that? Ummmm....I know there was a 'Q' in there somewhere." He shook his head. "I heard ten thousand, dawg. For real. Five hundred's still lots. You sure it isn't, like, five hundred in every house or somethin'?" He giggled. "Chris is funny."

"Why would I need five hundred pairs of shoes in my house in Maui?" said Justin. "I mostly go naked there anyway. Or at least shoeless, mostly, when there are no rocks or sharp things or squishy things or anything that'll get me dirty."

Nick snickered. "Okay, so, five hundred pairs of flip-flops? Sandals? Whatever. There's a lot of dirt on the ground in Maui, I hear." He nudged Justin with an elbow. "Hey, pass me the doritos? And another beer? And dude, what are we watching here?"

"Whatever you put it on," said Justin, grabbing another beer for him automatically and gracefully. When he stroked his fingers over Nick's wrist, Nick told himself that it was just an accident. "And five hundred pairs of sandals is a lot, even for me."

"YOU had the remote," Nick reminded him, eyeing him again. Justin looked a little thin, but better than Nick had seen him, though he desperately needed a shave. "I can see you doing it. You get a little intense about things. Like shoes, I guess. Right? And, y'know, girlfriends, so I'm real sorry to hear about Cameron. Seriously, man. But you look okay."

"Intense," Justin echoed him, pondering it for a while. "Yeah, maybe. Maybe a little intense. Cameron called me that, too, I think, only she used other words for it. Is intense bad?"

"I don't think so," Nick assured him. "Just means you've got some focus, that's not bad. 'Course, you've gotta keep it from going over into crazy, but I think you probably know that already. But, y'know, Paris said I was too intense for her, too, though she really meant she didn't like that I got upset when she kissed other guys." And if he'd thrown a couple of lamps, well, he'd been entitled. It wasn't like he'd thrown them at HER.

"Why would she kiss other guys when she had you?" said Justin, back to staring at him again. Intensely. "She really was as dumb as everyone said."

"She isn't dumb," Nick protested, automatically now, shifting a little under Justin's eyes. "She isn't, really, she's just a little flaky. And, I don't know, she just, she wanted more, or something. I wasn't enough for her, I guess. But thanks, man, anyway. What, ah, what happened with you and Cameron, anyway?"

"Haven't we been through this?" muttered Justin, stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth again. Nick figured he thought it would keep him from having to answer Nick's question, so he grabbed a handful of popcorn and waited him out. "You know how I am about cheating. That's what happened."

"You just didn't answer, before," Nick pointed out, and then his eyes widened. "You mean, we both broke up 'cause our girlfriends were cheating? At the same time? That's, like...we're like brothers, or something like that, bonded. And man, cheating sucks, so hard, why don't they get that? It's not cool just cause we're all famous and shit." He squeezed Justin tight for a moment, feeling warm affection and understanding for him.

"All my girlfriends cheat on me," muttered Justin, resting his chin on Nick's shoulder and not letting him go. "I think there's something wrong with me. Is there something wrong with me?"

"Nah," Nick said, though he'd had the same thought himself many times, in the lonely middle of the night. "It means there's something wrong with THEM." Which was exactly what Brian had told him, every time he'd gone crying to his best friend. "You're better off without a cheater. They're not good for you, honest, Justin."

Justin nodded his enthusiastic agreement. "That's why I'm not falling in love with girls anymore," he said. "Can't trust 'em. Don't like 'em so much anyway. Not worth the trouble."

"You can trust boys?" Nick stared down at the top of Justin's head. "News to me, but if you're right...I think I'm jealous." Nick liked girls and he liked boobies and there was no way his mother would have tolerated anything different. He told himself firmly that a couple of fantastic blowjobs in clubs didn't really mean anything. "If you like 'em better, go for it, man. I think that's fantastic."

Justin gave him the tiniest shrug. "Never had a boy break my heart," he said. Nick wondered if that meant he'd ever given any the chance. "Seems like a good sign. Is there anything other than popcorn? It's almost gone."

"Yeah. There's crackers and some cheese, you grabbed a fruit thing, and there're more doritos and potato chips." He offered Justin a selection. "You be careful of your heart. Don't just give it to any boy, they'll break it just as fast as a girl will. Maybe they'll do it different, but it'd still break."

"You ever had a boy break your heart?" Justin asked quietly, and he wasn't staring this time, wasn't even looking Nick in the eye. He paused a moment, then leaned forward and grabbed a bag of Doritos noisily, like he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Nooo," Nick said carefully, after a long pause. "I've never...I don't date boys. Just girls. Only, ever. So, no, only girls have ever broken my heart." He didn't look at Justin, either. "But I know people who, y'know, have."

"Oh," said Justin, and he *definitely* wasn't looking at Nick now. "I thought you... I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't think you... you know. Too."

"Yeah, no, not really," Nick said, almost drowning in awkwardness, made even worse by the heaviness of smoke in his brain. "I mean, once or twice, little things, you know, but dating, no, never. But it's cool, man, I think it's great, I'm not, like, gonna freak out or nothing, it's more than cool." He squeezed Justin's shoulders again, hoping it would be more comforting than his stumbling words.

Justin was quiet for a moment in the palpable awkwardness, then he reached out and stroked Nick's wrist again, softly, hesitantly. "You might like it," he said, quietly but clearly.

Nick froze, trapped between shock and sympathy and a reluctant, shy niggle of interest. "I dunno," he finally got out, just as quietly, staring hard at the television like it would give him the answers. "It'd be...strange, huh?" But parts of him were remembering the way Justin had looked when he stretched, and his big capable hands, and his soft mouth, and were definitely taking an interest. Especially when he had a flash of memory of that boy in Boca, with the unbelievable tongue and the technique that put Paris's to shame, and how incredibly hard he'd made Nick come...

His answer seemed to make Justin a little more confident. But just a little. "It might not be so strange. I know you wouldn't cheat, you know I wouldn't cheat... that's a decent start, right?"

"Start to what?" Nick pulled back so he could give Justin a good hard stare. "I mean, I don't, what are you..." He ran his free hand through his hair restlessly. "I mean, whoa. That's like. Maybe we should just make out or something first, yeah?" He blinked at Justin's mouth. "I bet you taste like Doritos right now."

"Well, right," said Justin, blinking innocently. "Making out is a good start to... pretty much anything, really. Don't you think?"

"Well, yes," Nick said uncertainly, watching Justin's face. "It's a good start, and good starts are important for...for good middles and ends and things. Right, yes." He leaned forward, finding bravery in the dim light and the haze of smoke and Justin's eager eyes, and pecked him quickly on the mouth. He'd never kissed the few boys he'd let blow him, but it wasn't much different from kissing a girl, he thought. Except for the scratch of bristles.

"So did I?" Justin asked him, his tongue darting out to run over his lower lip. "Taste like Doritos? Or maybe we need to try again..."

"It was too fast, I couldn't tell," Nick confessed, watching that tongue. This whole thing felt completely unreal, dreamlike and slow and improbable, and he felt himself start to grin crazily. He liked new things. He leaned in again, and this time when he pressed his lips to Justin's he left them there a bit longer, cataloguing the sensations.

Justin licked Nick's lip this time, and Nick thought he heard a soft moan from the back of Justin's throat. Maybe. Or maybe it was him.

He let his hand just rest on Justin's thigh, holding his weight as he stayed close, feeling the wet swipe of Justin's tongue, the jerky rhythm of his breath, and finally letting his own tongue out, a little shy about it, to meet the kiss.

Justin didn't clutch at him, didn't pressure him, didn't do any of the things that Nick expected people to do when he let them in this far. He just leaned in, all comfortable and languid, and kept kissing.

It really was easy, Nick found himself thinking wonderingly, as his thumb started an absent back-and-forth stroking on Justin's thigh. Justin's kiss was a little bit playful, his tongue just a slight tease, and he tasted nothing like Doritos. Nick, on autopilot, licked into Justin's mouth (sweet, he thought, dimly) one last time, then started to nibble down his jaw and throat, until the jarring scratch of hair against his lips sat him back with a jolt. He remembered what he was doing.

Justin raised an eyebrow at him and bit his lip, and for the first time Nick could remember he looked genuinely vulnerable. "Not your thing, then?" he questioned him quietly. "Thought you were liking it."

"Yes, I just..." Nick leaned back and ran a hand through his hair, over his face, buying time to think. Not that he was thinking all that well, but still. "I just, it's different, new, and I gotta think, or something." His heart was rabbiting away, thumping on his ribs, and he couldn't tell if it was from the pot or the fear or the kissing. "But I was, it was good, really good," he remembered to add.

"No, don't think," said Justin, still quietly. "Not right now. If you think then you'll think about her and about other things and... is there more popcorn?"

"Um, I think so," Nick said uncertainly, derailed by Justin's question. He leaned over the edge of the couch, peering at the floor in the dim light, and grabbed the half-empty bag. "Yep. Here. I, what were we talking about? Oh, the...yes, I liked it. Is it strange that I liked it? What does that mean?" He looked at Justin, hoping he had the answers.

Justin shrugged, reaching down for some popcorn. "It just means that you liked it," he said simply. "Things don't have to be any more complicated than you make them." He held up a piece of popcorn to Nick's lips, coaxing him to eat it.

"Hmm." Nick opened absently for the popcorn, chewing happily. He liked the idea of not thinking about it, that sounded right up his alley. "Okay," he said, taking the next piece more quickly. "Could just be the pot, anyway, though maybe not, because you're pretty good at that kissing thing. Except the hair, that kinda wigs me out a little."

"Really?" said Justin, feeding Nick another piece as he spoke. "That's one of the best parts, that little scratch. Um. For me, anyway."

"It's...different," Nick said a little uneasily, looking for a better word but not finding it. "It's kind of, 'whoa. This is a guy here.' I dunno." He just opened his mouth obediently when Justin offered another kernel, but this time, he curled his tongue around the tip of Justin's finger, too. It tasted of salt and butter and a little of smoke.

Justin smiled at him, a smile that might've even seemed shy, if it hadn't been Justin Timberlake. "Different is good," he said. "After all, what's the same as in the past would just end the same, right?"

"Right," Nick agreed uncertainly, not sure he'd followed that, but willing to be agreeable. "Different is good," he nodded, and he was pretty sure of that, at least, because the last thing he needed was more of the same. "And, plus, you're hot, and stuff, which helps. And you don't look like a biter."

"Biter?" said Justin, leaning in slowly and licking a bit of salt off Nick's lip. "Sounds like you have some interesting stories to tell..."

"Probably about as many as you," Nick nodded, opening his mouth a little and hoping Justin got the hint. "But biting is pretty much always bad, especially if people get carried away." He set a tentative hand on Justin's waist, feeling hard muscle under his palm. He was nervous, so he giggled, before forcing himself to shut up. "Situps," he said, nodding and hoping he was making any sense at all.

"Lots," agreed Justin. "But sex is better. For the body. I mean...!" He actually looked embarrassed again, but only for a moment. "Not that I'm suggesting it. Right now. At this moment."

"Right, not at the moment," Nick kept nodding, like a puppet, he thought, and moved his hand a little, stroking. It felt nice, touching someone who was smiling at him and not moving away, and he stopped feeling quite so frantic with nerves. "Not that, y'know, it'd be so terrible. To do, y'know. Stuff." Justin's mouth was very pink and very soft.

"It's really not," said Justin, nodding convincingly. "It's really kinda nice. And hot. And stuff. If you think you might be into that kind of thing. With me. Here."

"Well, we could try," Nick offered, almost making it a question, "and see how it goes? I mean, I've never...I just...you know what I mean. But it's been good so far, so definitely, yeah, maybe." He licked suddenly dry lips, and slid that brave hand *under* Justin's shirt, touching the hot soft skin of his side.

"Mmm," said Justin softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Nick had clearly done something right. "I think that's a fantastic idea, Nick. Thanks for thinking that up. Where do you want to start?"

"Um." Nick had no fucking idea. He didn't even know what he should be doing at that very moment. But at the same time, he didn't want Justin thinking he was some complete moron with no clue what he was doing, so maybe he could fake it. "How about...how about, um. You first."

"I think you should take my shirt off," said Justin decisively after a moment. Nick wondered what other clothing options he might have gone through before deciding on that one. "I think that would be a great place to begin."

"Okay." That sounded like a great idea to Nick, too, and he pulled back just far enough to slide his other hand under Justin's shirt and tug it gently over his head. He sat back again and just looked. Justin was a good looking guy, he knew that. His heart was speeding up, thumping again, and his hand shook just a little until he clenched it tight around Justin's tshirt. "That's a good start," he said quietly. "That's...you look good. To me."

"You like this?" Justin asked him, stopping short of running his hands over his own body. "Even though it's... different, for you? I want you to... well, not be sure, I guess. Hard to be sure when you haven't done anything. But be a little bit sure."

"I'm sure you look good, more than a little bit," Nick said, glancing away selfconsciously. He twisted Justin's shirt in his hands, then handed it back to Justin. "I'm pretty sure I won't, y'know, run out of here freaking out or anything. But maybe you should kiss me again, just to be sure."

"Maybe you should get a little closer, so that I can," said Justin, and he reached out and took one of Nick's hands and pulled it towards him. "I've... you know I've done this before. So if you want to do a little touching, *I* won't freak."

"I'm not so sure what'll be good, but okay, that's good," Nick said, feeling that was about as much warning as he could give Justin that he was flying blind. He reached out and laid his palm on Justin's shoulder, the other flat on his chest, tugging him close for a kiss and stroking gently, getting his hands used to the feeling. It was strange, but wonderfully good, and heat started to pool in his belly.

"You're gentle," said Justin, sounding surprised. "The way you... it's different. I wasn't expecting that."

Nick flushed. He'd been super-careful in bed ever since a girl had complained that he was a total heavy-handed klutz, and he'd automatically just kept on with what he knew. "I don't have to, if you don't like it," he said, pulling his hands away as he sat back a little. "I mean, I don't think you're a girl or anything, it's not that, I swear."

"No, I like it," said Justin, gesturing driftily in the air. For him to come back, Nick gathered. "Just wasn't expecting it from you. And I don't mean that in the bad way, if there's a bad way to mean that."

"A bad way to mean what?" Nick was so confused, but he was pretty sure Justin wanted to kiss more, and that seemed almost safe and familiar now. He dove back in, a little more enthusiastic now, and draped his arms over Justin's shoulders, stroking his hair and shoulders and back, tugging him just a little closer.

"Nothing important," Justin mumbled against Nick's lips, then he reached up and his hand was at the bare skin that had been exposed at the small of Nick's back. And he was gentle, too.

"Mmmmm." Nick hummed happily against Justin's mouth, feeling Justin smile a little in response. Justin was a *really* good kisser, Nick was discovering, and that was just a nice thing to know. Nick pushed himself into Justin's touch just a little, letting his body beg for more.

"Now isn't this better than anythin' you've have before?" Justin asked him, shifting his body a little under Nick's weight.

"Well..." Nick wasn't quite ready to commit to this being the best he'd ever had, though his dick was lobbying enthusiastically for a 'yes.' "It's really, really good," he answered, grinning a little at Justin, looking at the kiss-swollen mouth and heavy eyes with some pride. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this, after all. "I'm liking it. A lot."

"An' we've got lots and lots of things to try yet," Justin assured him. "Better than what you had before, promise. Won't hurt you."

Nick glanced at him for that, but didn't comment, just let himself shiver a little at the idea of 'lots and lots of things.' He dragged a fingertip down the exact center of Justin's chest, all the way down to his navel, where he dipped in and circled and went back up. That seemed to work well for girls, and he hoped Justin would like it too.

Justin grinned and wriggled a little, and who knew, Timberlake was ticklish. "Nick," he breathed, and no one had ever said Nick's name quite like that before. "Yeah, like that."

Nick scritched his fingers lightly again, just to see Justin arch and twist, and then brushed his fingers upward again, exploring. No boobs, no dramatic waist, but Justin's skin was soft luxury under his hand and Justin was just about the hottest thing Nick had ever seen, and he felt the last of his reservations drifting away.

It was like Justin was inside his head, listening to Nick's thought processes, because the moment he came to that conclusion Justin grinned at him brightly. Or maybe Nick was just that easy to read. "Yeah," he said softly, and reached out to draw Nick closer.

Nick was careful, looking for any hint that Justin was just screwing with him, the stoned fuzziness finally lifting enough to give him just a bit of caution. But Justin's eyes were half-lidded and welcoming and he looked sincere, and Nick smiled back, and let his weight press Justin back against the couch cusions, settling over him happily. "Nice," he commented, wriggling his hips to a more comfortable spot. "ohhhh, nice," he added, biting his lip.

"Did we lock the door?" Justin asked suddenly, breaking the mood. At least he didn't buck up and throw Nick off. "Do we want to do that? Does it matter?"

Nick propped up on his arms and scowled down a little. "You were the last one in," he pointed out, "so you'd know if you locked it or not. I mean, probably, 'less you're too baked. But it's gotta be locked if we're gonna take off clothes." He looked at Justin's bare chest. "More clothes," he amended. "Are we?"

"If you want to," said Justin, sounding maybe a little hopefully. "It would be easier to... if we did. As for the door..." he shifted and tried to look over the couch at it, "I can't even remember if I closed it or not."

Nick squinted at it. "It's closed," he confirmed, nodding at Justin. "You closed it, good job. But I gotta get up and *lock* it?" He sighed, then heaved himself up in one movement, grabbing for the couch as his head spun and he wobbled. "Whoa."

Justin reached up and for a moment Nick thought he was going to pull him back down again, but Justin just tried to stabilize him instead. It was a pretty lousy effort, though, since Justin was practically flat on his back and Nick was bent over him.

"Oooh, headrush," Nick moaned, when he could speak again. "Uck. See what you're doing, making me get up?" He teetered over to the door, though, and was briefly frozen by the discovery that the door had no lock. He thought slowly and carefully, though, and ended up shoving a chair over against the door.

"Whatteryadoin?"Justin asked, voice floating up over the couch. "Moving stuff? Why're you moving stuff? Did you fall? Do I have to get up?"

"Chair," Nick answered. "Had to move the chair, there's no lock." He made his way back to the couch, and peered at Justin. "I didn't fall. Did it sound like I fell? Are you saying I'm really clumsy or something, 'cause I didn't fall. And you don't have to get up, I'm all done now, the door's blocked, which is great unless there's a fire."

"Let's not light anything on fire," said Justin decisively, then frowned. "Anything that's not supposed to be lit on fire, anyway."

"Okay," Nick agreed, easily enough. After all, burning down whoever's house wouldn't be polite at all, and he'd had enough problems with his reputation without adding 'arsonist' to his list of accusations. "I think my lighter's a safety one, so if we wanna smoke again we're all set. Hey, you took my spot." He frowned over the back of the couch at Justin, who'd sprawled all over the couch.

"Plenty of room," said Justin, gesturing at himself, right from his collarbones to his toes. "What's the problem?"

Nick frowned harder. "I'd squash you," he pointed out, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "And, and anyway, I can't lie on you, that's just, something. I dunno. Anyway, how're you going to eat popcorn if I'm lying on top of you?"

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