“Bullshit.” Justin’s reply comes so fast that the curse shoots out of his mouth like a bullet.

“Well, not a big party,” JC amends. He isn’t upset, but he shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning. “C’mon, Just. Keep the birthday boy happy. I’m not throwing a big party this year. I’m sure as hell not gonna let you throw it for me.”

For some reason, Justin has a thing about birthdays. The guy is just convinced that everyone enjoys their birthdays as much as he enjoys his own. Maybe Justin just likes the thought of getting older. He’s still young enough to feel that way.

JC, however, is not.

Alright… it isn’t a big deal or anything. Sure, JC likes his birthday. But now… he’s getting to the point where big birthday bashes just aren’t his thing anymore. Makes him feel… cheap and superficial, like all the other megastars. Inviting hundreds of people to a party seems to JC like he’s saying, “Hey, look at me and all the money my friends and I have. You get to come to my party and stand in awe. Don’t forget to bring a nice gift.”

JC just isn’t that kind of guy.

Deep down, somewhere very deep down, Justin knows all of this. JC knows for a fact that Justin knows this, but the boy can’t help himself, JC supposes. Justin is barely into his twenties, after all. Parties are his life.

Right now, Justin’s pacing the length of JC’s living room, narrowing his eyes. His forehead wrinkles in that determined way he has, when he’s about to be stubborn. “You’re getting a big party, and I’m throwing it for you,” he says. “And you’re gonna like it.”

No question wavers in Justin’s last statement. It’s an order.

With a sigh, JC grins again. They both know that JC has already given in. “Fine,” he says. “But a little big party.”

Justin laughs, a big goofy laugh that opens his mouth wide until JC can see his back molars. That laugh seems to occur very seldom nowadays. It’s carefree, joyous and just wonderful. JC thinks that the whole stupid party is gonna be worth it, just because it got one of those laughs out of Justin again.

* * *

“No way,” says JC. He backs away, keeping his eyes staring forward, warily. “Keep that away from me.”

Holding a stack of address books and papers, Justin moves toward JC like an unstoppable juggernaut. “You’ve gotta help me write the guest list,” Justin says. His voice takes on a whiny quality and even though his face is hidden behind the books, JC knows Justin is pouting. “You don’t even have to really do anything. All you’ve gotta do is say yes or no.”

“No.”

“See? Wasn’t that easy?” Somehow, despite his load, Justin manages to dodge around JC, blocking the exit by standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He tilts his head to look at JC around the stack, grinning winningly.

“You promised you’d leave me out of the planning if I let you throw the party,” JC protests. He tries to dodge around Justin but that’s damn near impossible to do.

Justin wrinkles his nose. “Well, what if I invite people you don’t like, huh?” he asks. “C, it’s your party. The last thing I want is for you to throw a diva fit and run home.”

“That’s not me, Just. That’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

JC’s laughing. “You know everyone I know, man. I trust your judgment completely.”

“Fiiine... Don’t come crying to me when I invite Kid Rock and Eminem and Christina Aguilera.” Justin moves from the doorway reluctantly, nose in the air, and sets the stuff on the dining room table. He plops onto one of the chairs, pouting, in the most flaming display of petulance that only Justin could ever pull off.

“You just don’t want to write out all the invitations yourself,” says JC, still laughing. He doesn’t even need to say it -- they both know each other too well.

The pout is gone, replaced by an innocent look. Justin whistles a tuneless melody.

JC growls, but they both know he’s kidding. He sits down next to Justin, pulling an address book towards him and flipping the cover open. “God,” JC says. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“I do,” says Justin in a happy sing-song, grinning.

* * *

JC’s birthday is coming up in exactly eight days.

Justin is on the phone.

He’s been on the phone a lot lately, ever since they finished writing those invitations a week ago. It’s like the damn thing has been glued to Justin’s ear, nonstop. Justin is always talking to someone.

This worries JC. A lot.

Even now, as JC comes into Justin’s living room, Justin is sitting on his couch, talking. He’s sitting but he’s leaning forward, as if intent on what the person is saying on the other end of the line. Justin’s short curls are uncovered for once and he is dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. JC recognizes it as Joey’s shirt. So that’s where it went.

“Justin…” JC says. “Why are you always on the phone?”

For a moment, Justin glances over. He smiles and holds up his hand to JC, finishing up the phone conversation. “Uhuh… right. That sounds great. Okay, thanks.” Justin thumbs the end button on his cell as JC sits down next to him. Justin says to JC, “Just making some arrangements.”

“For my party.” JC feels cold dread creep into his bones.

Justin smiles. “Yep.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hiring a circus and a stripper and renting out a nightclub or anything like that.”

“You wanted a circus?!” says Justin, gasping. He snaps his fingers, flipping his cell open once again. “I knew I forgot something!”

JC’s laughing, pulls the phone away from his friend. “Please, don’t tell me you hired a stripper,” he says. When Justin lunges for the phone, JC stretches his arm backward as far as he can, keeping it out of his friend’s reach. “Please.”

“Do you want one?” Justin’s grinning but he actually looks serious about his question.

All at once, JC feels scandalized, even though he’s heard of much worse things than a stripper. It’s just the way Justin is smiling at him… “No! Of course not!”

Justin says, “I’d dance for you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” says JC wryly.

“You want me to?”

Before JC can even reply, Justin is there, not sitting beside JC any longer but leaning over him. He props himself up on the couch cushions, with his hands on either side of JC’s torso. A little farther, forward, until Justin’s warm breath ghosts over JC’s cheek, until Justin’s curls brush against JC’s forehead. Justin smells like expensive cologne and mint toothpaste.

Justin’s advance forces JC to move back, to lie down on the couch, shoulder blades pushing against the armrest. JC dares to look down as Justin, with one hand, lifts up the bottom hem of his old t-shirt, pulling it up until he bares his smooth muscled stomach.

Oh God.

Justin hovers over JC’s body like that, pulling his shirt ever higher, hips moving in a vaguely suggestive way to music that only Justin can hear.

Oh God oh God.

JC swallows, lost in pretty blue eyes.

So quickly that JC doesn’t even see Justin’s hand move, Justin takes his cell phone back from JC’s unresisting fingers. “Thank you,” he says. Justin gets up and flips his cell open again, tugging his t-shirt back down as he goes upstairs.

For a while, JC just lies there, staring at the ceiling, breathing harshly and trying to will away the erection in his pants.

* * *

The birthday countdown is officially down to five days.

JC doesn’t even know why he’s bothering to keep track in his head. It’s as if he’s eight again, when his birthday was the single most important event in his life, besides Christmas. When had that changed? Probably when JC got past twenty-three, when he got to the point where getting older didn’t really matter anymore. You’re old enough to drink, you’re old enough to smoke and get married and everything else… Nothing new or exciting to look forward to on birthdays anymore, not really.

Since he has nothing better to do, JC finds himself driving to Justin’s house. He parks and goes to the front door, unlocking it, fumbling with his keys a little bit, since JC owns a ridiculous number of keys.

When JC enters the dining room, Justin jumps and whirls around, eyes wide.

“Hey, C,” he says. The only reason JC knows Justin is nervous at the moment is that Justin’s voice has a higher, more squeaky quality to it. He always sounds like that when he’s nervous. Justin moves to stand in front of something, which is on the dining room table, blocking the object from JC’s view. That grin is way too innocent, JC thinks. “Wasn’t expecting you,” adds Justin.

“Yeah…” JC narrows his eyes. “So what’s up?”

“Ohh… nothing.” Justin tries to lean casually against the table.

“Riight,” says JC. He pauses, watching Justin, who is not moving an inch. “You wanna go out and get something to eat?”

Justin nods vigorously. “Oh, sure… sure,” he says. “Gimme a minute. I’ll meet you outside.”

Amused, JC just shrugs and goes out again. He sits in his car and starts up the engine again, pretty sure all the while that Justin had been hiding JC’s birthday present from him. That is kind of cute, really. Yes, JC is pretty sure. They know each other so well it’s eerie sometimes.

“So where to?” asks Justin a few minutes later, as he climbs into the passenger seat.

JC backs the car out, asking, “That was my birthday present, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus. I was that obvious?”

JC’s laughing. “Yeah. Well also, even though you hid the present behind your back, you forgot to hide the wrapping paper, doofus. It was sitting right out there in the open.”

“Oh. Darn.” Justin is laughing too and JC thinks that it’s a beautiful sound.

* * *

“Unh… hello?”

“C? You awake?”

“Well, now I am, dipwad.” JC pushes his tangled covers back a little, sitting up and rubbing a hand through his messy hair. He closes his eyes, leaning back on the headboard of his bed. Through a yawn, JC adds, “Why are you calling me?”

“Dude, it’s the middle of the afternoon,” says Justin’s voice from the other end of the phone line. “You shouldn’t be sleeping.”

“I’m on break. I sleep when I wanna sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wanna come over?”

JC glances at his clock, glowing in red numerals. It’s 4:18. What the hell is Justin talking about? JC mumbles sleepily into the phone, “Why?”

“I’ve got your present. Well, one of them.”

“My party is tomorrow, Just.”

“Duh, man. I planned it.” Justin sighs, sounding like all of this should be plainly obvious. Somehow, in some way, this conversation makes sense in Justin’s head. JC has yet to figure out what the hell they’re talking about. Justin presses, “So you coming or not?”

With a sigh, JC climbs out of bed. “Let me get dressed.”

* * *

Justin is in the kitchen again.

This time, when JC enters, Justin whirls around and smiles happily. “Ta-da,” he says, stepping aside and revealing a lopsided cake on the table. The cake looks like it has two layers, one of which was significantly lower on the left side than the right. The cake is frosted messily in white icing and loopy blue trim. JC walks closer, peering at the top, which says in blocky pink letters: Happy Birthday JC.

“You made a cake?” JC bursts out laughing. “It’s edible, right?”

“Yeah,” says Justin. He looks offended. “Don’t you like it?”

“Man, I love it,” says JC. He sits down on the stool placed in front of the cake, examining the confection closely. It looked safe enough. Actually, the thing reminded JC of the cakes his mom used to make him for his birthdays when he was little. “I thought I was having my cake tomorrow.”

Justin sits down on the stool beside JC, shrugging. “That’s the professional cake. You know, with like twenty layers and all that. This is my cake,” he says, with a touch of pride.

“Cool. So do I get to eat this thing or what?”

“Hold on,” says Justin. He gets up and goes to a cabinet, rooting around inside it. He comes back holding a little yellow package of blue birthday candles and a packet of matches. He starts placing the candles around the edge of the circular cake. Finally, one goes in the center. Justin strikes a match into life and lights the candles. “Alright.” Justin sits down again, expression serious as he looks at JC. “Make a wish.”

“What, no song?”

“Make a wish, Chasez.”

JC grins, shaking his head. He watches the candle flames dance orange and blue in his vision for a moment before closing his eyes and blowing them out, wish carried away on his exhaled breath.

“I’ll sing for you tomorrow,” Justin promises when JC opens his eyes again. “But I feel stupid being the only person singing happy birthday right now.”

“Thanks, Justin,” says JC, meaning the words. “It was nice of you to do this.”

Nodding, Justin gets up and pulls some plates from a cupboard. “You wanted a little big party,” he says as he hands a knife over to JC. “Well… this is the little party and the big party is tomorrow.”

“Okay,” says JC, cutting into the cake. It’s a rich chocolate cake, springy and sticky under the pressure of the knife. While he’s doing this, Justin is looking off into nowhere, thinking and humming softly under his breath.

Grinning, JC sticks his fingers into his slice of cake, scooping up the icing, and smears the white and blue mess across Justin’s nose.

“Wha…?!” Justin splutter, brought out of his reverie.

JC practically falling off of his stool, laughing.

Feigning anger, Justin narrows his eyes at JC. A blob of white frosting drips from his nose and a smear of blue icing streaks across his cheek.

Seeing Justin loom over him, looking like that, JC just laughs harder.

“Oh, man. You’re dead. Dead, dead, dead.” Justin reaches into his own slice and pushes the sticky mess onto JC’s forehead, pushing up and smearing the icing into JC’s hair.

JC laughs and recoils away from Justin’s hands, feeling the gooeyness settling into his scalp. “Oh, gross!” he exclaims, getting up and running around to the other side of the table, where Justin’s hands couldn’t reach him. He scoops more of the cake into his hand, feeling only abstractly sorry for ruining Justin’s cake. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You fucked up my cake!” exclaims Justin, but he’s grinning too. “Oh well,” he says, picking up his own handful of the chocolate mess. Beyond all reason, Justin kneels up on the stool and climbs onto the table, crawling across to JC, threat in his merry eyes and in his handful of cake.

“Oh no… no, no…” Shaking his head from side to side, JC backs away until his back hits the kitchen sink. “You wouldn’t.”

Justin grins, now climbing down from the table and standing in front of JC. “Now, how well do you know me?” he asks.

“Just-!!” That’s as far as JC gets before Justin shoves the handful into JC’s mouth, muffling the words.

For a moment, Justin just grins and watches JC try to eat the huge mouthful, cake and icing dripping from his mouth. “Well?” Justin asks.

Nodding, JC says stickly, around the food, “Good cake.” Then he pushes the cake in his hand into Justin’s mouth as well, making sure to smear it around a lot.

“Good?” JC asks, mouth still full. He’s still trying to swallow down all the cake, grinning and trying not to laugh.

Justin chews some and swallows, saying thickly, “Good.” He grins, teeth darkened by the blue icing and the dark chocolate cake crumbs. He leans forward and JC is about to ask what the hell does Justin think he’s doing, when Justin kisses him. Just like that, messy mouths full of cake and all.

Breathless, JC leans back on the sink, feeling Justin’s sticky mouth cover his own. The super sweetness of the confection practically melds their mouths together. Justin’s tongue is sticky and slick with icing, unbearably sweet and insistent against JC’s lips, until JC finally opens his mouth with a sigh. In some part of his mind, JC is still wondering what the hell is Justin doing. The rest of his mind doesn’t really care at all. Justin’s messy hands leave trails of white and blue along JC’s arms.

Moving his head to one side, out of the kiss and to Justin’s cheek, JC licks away the frosting he put there. He smiles at Justin’s little strangled noises as he tongues the icing off of Justin’s nose. Mmm. It tastes good, JC thinks fuzzily.

Lifting his head up a little, Justin kisses away the frosting on JC’s forehead, lips suctioning off the sticky mess in soft kisses. JC sighs, turning his head to the left to let Justin lick at his temple.

Then they’re back to kissing again, and JC grins into Justin’s sugary lips.

“Hey, happy birthday,” says Justin. He kisses JC again, sweet and sticky. Once, twice, thrice.

“Mmm… very happy indeed,” agrees JC. “Can I get a kiss for every year?”

Justin laughs, a wonderful loud laugh that makes JC love his birthday all over again, just like when he was a kid. “Maybe,” Justin says, leaning forward again.

Ooh. That kiss was nice. And that one. Oh.

“What am I up to now?” whispers Justin. “Eight? Nine?”

JC is feeling dizzy. He tugs at Justin’s arms with his sticky hands until they’re standing so close they’re breathing each other. “Keep going,” JC murmurs.

“Okay,” says Justin, and he does.