TITLE: Ironing

AUTHOR: Alicia Edwards

FEEDBACK: [email protected]

SUMMARY: Ironing is what JC does best.

 

IRONING

 

 

JC was one of those people you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at.  Maybe chuckle a little as you went by.  You had to take him with a grain of salt, because he was a little bit unpredictable.  You thought you “got” him, but then he’d surprise you the next day with some random little tidbit about himself, or maybe just some piece of knowledge he’d acquired somewhere that you wouldn’t think he’d be interested enough in to store in his memory banks, and certainly not enough to bring it out again to share with you.

 

He walked around a little clueless a lot of the time.  Endearingly oblivious.  Like he didn’t quite get the joke, but he hoped no one else noticed.  So he’d laugh along, anyway.  And then there were the days when he’d shock you with his depth.  Like there wasn’t enough room in those blue eyes for all the knowledge and insight and wisdom he possessed, but there it was, anyhow.  Which stood in sharp contrast to the times when the rest of them would hold their breath through interviews, crossing their fingers behind their backs that JC wouldn’t ramble incoherently, and breathe a sigh of relief when he’d make it through the whole thing without making a fool of himself.  But they all loved him anyway.

 

Lance wasn’t sure why all the stuff he believed about JC stood in such sharp contrast in his mind to what he saw when he opened the door to JC’s room after JC’d called out to him to come in.  JC was ironing.  He’d set up the mini ironing board the hotel had supplied each room with on one of the beds, and there he was, standing in his sweats, ironing a pair of truly hideous pants.  Lance decided not to comment on the pants, because, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure his were any better.

 

Lance was early.  They were all supposed to meet at JC’s room in the morning, but Lance hadn’t been able to sleep.  Again.  And he’d known JC would be up, so he’d gone early.  He wondered if JC did this every morning, before the guys arrived to congregate there.  Lance didn’t say anything, just smiled and settled on the opposite bed, the one that was still tightly made.  The one JC hadn’t slept in.  The bed JC was ironing on was also made, but the corners weren’t tucked in and the blanket wasn’t folded quite as nicely over the pillows. 

 

JC returned Lance’s smile, but bigger.  It made his eyes crinkle and even showed a little of his not-so-perfect teeth.  Like maybe he was a little embarrassed Lance had witnessed him ironing.  But maybe not.  Sometimes, you never could tell.  JC turned off the iron, shook his pants out, and retreated to the bathroom to finish getting ready.  He talked to Lance through the closed door, going on and on about this dream he’d had the night before.  Lance smiled and shook his head, and chuckled a little.

 

There was a knock on the door, and since JC was still in the bathroom, Lance hauled himself off the bed and pulled the door open.  Joey slipped in.  “Watch out, Chris and Justin are pissed,” he said to Lance quietly, like it was some kind of secret, even though they’d all find out in a minute, anyway.

 

“At who?” Lance asked, settling himself on the bed again and pulling one leg up, letting the other continue to dangle off the side.

 

“At each other.  I could hear them through the wall.”

 

And Joey was right.  No sooner had he said it than Lance could hear the two of them bickering through the door.  He couldn’t tell what they were saying, just that their tone was angry.  The knock on the door was much more forceful than was warranted at eight in the morning.  This time, Joey answered it.

 

JC emerged from the bathroom, partly because he had finished getting ready, and partly to see why someone was banging on his door.

 

Chris flew in like a hurricane, still all bed-head and droopy, tired-eyed.  His brows were knitted and his jaw was clenched and he threw himself into the armchair like he was mad at it, rather than at Justin.

 

Chris had kind of thrown the door closed when he came in, even though he was well aware that Justin was right behind him. Or maybe it was because he was well aware that Justin was right behind him.  Whatever the case, Justin caught the door and pushed through it, banging it open against the wall before it fell shut.  Lance could see the muscles in Justin’s arms all taut and coiled.  In fact, all of Justin was taut and coiled.  His eyebrows were lowered over his eyes, which were red-rimmed and beady.  He threw a steely look at Chris before finding a seat on the bed next to Joey.

 

Lance looked at Joey, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.  Joey gave Lance an “I warned you” look, flipping one eyebrow up at him.  JC stood kind of bewildered in the bathroom doorway, having not made it any farther into the room, which was good, because he probably would have been bowled over by either his oldest or his youngest bandmate.

 

“So…breakfast?” Joey asked, clapping his hands together.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Lance said, standing, hoping to dissipate the anger in the room, just a little.  Chris and Justin were shooting daggers at each other, and Lance couldn’t even imagine what had gone on to cause this kind of reaction.  Usually, Chris and Justin were the best of friends, Chris falling into the ‘big brother’ role and Justin reveling in it.

 

No one moved.  Lance looked around the room. 

 

JC stepped out of the doorway.  “Why don’t you guys go on ahead,” he suggested, softly.  Lance nodded and looked to Joey, who stood up and followed him out the door.

 

Lance and Joey ate their breakfast silently, wanting to discuss what they had just witnessed, but still kind of in shock enough not to be able to find the words.  So they just ate, and looked at each other.  Wondering what the other was thinking.

 

It wasn’t long before the door to the private dining room opened, and in came JC, Justin, and Chris.  Lance about dropped his bagel when he saw Justin grinning and elbowing Chris in the side.  Chris retaliated by giving Justin a shove, but it wasn’t an angry shove.  It was a playful shove.  And then Chris took off in a near-sprint towards the buffet, throwing a glance back at Justin, who bounded forward as well.  They were acting as if nothing happened.

 

When JC sat down next to Lance, Lance glanced over at him and raised one eyebrow, questioningly.  JC just shrugged, and took a bite of his apple.

 

Lance decided he shouldn’t have been surprised to find JC ironing that morning.  Ironing is what JC did best.

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