“You always wanna have sex.”

“Well… yeah. But that doesn’t change the fact.”

JC starts laughing despite himself. “Nice new house, Justin.”

“Thanks. It’s not just mine – you know that. And don’t go trying to change the subject.”

Going to the dining room and pretending like Justin wasn’t following him with a sad puppy face, JC says, “You can’t just go and ask for sex whenever you want it.”

“That’s how is usually works, man.”

“You’re so unromantic.”

“And you’re a girl. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about ten billion times.”

“Sounds about right.”

JC fingers the china cabinet and opens it. It’s beautiful. The whole damn house is gorgeous. That just means that Justin paid someone else to decorate it for him, because the boy doesn’t have that much sense in design, not at all. Even so…. The house screams Justin, in a million tiny ways, which means that Justin had a direct say in everything that went in his house. That’s reassuring, somehow. Like the Justin that JC has always known hasn’t been lost over the years of stardom and glitz. JC had almost laughed in relief at seeing Justin’s dirty socks and t-shirts already littering his bedroom floor.

“What are you thinking about?” Justin’s voice is soft and JC can tell he’s smiling without even turning around.

“You.” JC doesn’t know how to answer that question sometimes. The answer is always Justin. Of course it’s always Justin. Always was, is, and will be. But it isn’t good to let Justin know that. The boy has enough of an ego already. JC sometimes feels like it’s his personal responsibility to keep Justin’s ego in check. And it is, kind of.

“Girl.”

“Brute.” JC grins.

“Pansy.”

“Neanderthal.”

Justin wraps a strong arm around JC’s waist and pulls JC backward, gently, easily. The boy has been working out. “Let’s check out every room.” Justin says. His bedroom voice trills through JC’s ear in a delicious murmur. “And have sex in each.”

“No.” JC tries not to grin.

“What, ‘no?’” Justin looks thoroughly disappointed. His lower lip puffs out in a pout. Okay, a cute pout. A damn cute pout. Kissable, too. No, no. Stopping this train of thought right now, Chasez.

Laughing, JC steps away, just a little, enough to keep their bodies separate but staying within Justin’s embrace. Feeling Justin’s heat pulsing through him… JC doesn’t think he can steel himself enough to say no, if they’re too close. JC turns around, smiling, and says, “Let’s see if Timberlake can learn to be a little more romantic, first, shall we?”

The pout is gone, replaced with a grin. Justin is always up for a challenge. They spit into their palms and shake hands on the deal.

Justin, still grinning cheekily, adds, “And let’s see if Shazam can learn to be a man.”

“Oh.” JC steps away and shakes his head. “You’re gonna pay for that one.”

“What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”

“Man, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Justin runs out of the dining room, laughing, with JC pounding at his heels.

* * *

Late into the night, JC is in bed, reading.

His bedroom is across the hall from Justin’s and is just as big. When Justin had his house decorated, he had made JC’s room for appearance’s sake, mostly. Neither of them actually plans on JC ever sleeping in there. However, this time, there are special circumstances. Mainly because JC thinks he probably won’t be able to resist Justin for long if they’re in the same bed. JC’s only human, after all.

So JC is reading. The house is quiet.

Then, at JC’s window, there’s an unmistakable, sharp clunk. The sound is like something small and hard hitting the glass. It comes again. Clunk. This time, JC is looking and he sees the sound is caused by a rock hitting the window and bouncing off again.

JC gets out of bed, curious. He unlocks the window and pulls the bottom part up.

The next rock smacks JC in the head.

“Ow!” JC clutches at the sore spot and leans out of the window. He leans farther and looks down on the ground, in the backyard. “Justin?”

“Sorry!” Justin calls. He waves and smiles sheepishly up to JC. From the second floor, JC can only make out vague details about Justin, especially in the darkness. What worries him is that Justin is carrying his guitar.

“What the hell are you doing?” JC hisses out his window.

Justin holds up his guitar in evidence. “I’m gonna serenade you.”

“What?!”

Then Justin grips the guitar, balancing on one knee, and he actually begins to play the thing. Oh God.

“Justin!” JC is still hissing, but he doesn’t know why. It’s not like it makes him sound any quieter. “The neighbors are gonna see!”

“I’ve got frickin’ walls all around the place, JC. No one’s gonna see anything.”

“Well… Well, they’re gonna hear you!”

Stopping for a moment, Justin shakes his head. “You don’t want me to?”

JC tries not to laugh, he really does. The boy looks so sincere. “I’ve been listening to you sing for about ten years now, Justin. It ain’t nothing special. I mean, it is, but… you know what I mean.”

“I’m trying to be romantic.” Justin sighs loudly and JC can hear it, even from his distance. JC gets the impression that Justin is on the verge of stamping his foot. And if Justin were ten he probably would’ve done so too. To his credit, he doesn’t. “I’m trying.”

“I know, dipwad,” says JC, and he can’t help it that the words come out so fondly. The poor, adorable boy. “Keep trying.”

Justin laughs, holding up his guitar and shaking it at JC. “Fuck you!” he calls up.

“Love you too,” says JC, blowing a kiss and pulling the window shut once more.

* * *

The next morning, JC is outside cleaning the gutters.

He doesn’t really know why he’s cleaning the gutters, actually. But if Justin is putting all that effort into being more romantic… well, JC can try to do what Justin asked, too. Plus, how hard is cleaning the gutters? Alright… JC has never actually done the task before, but he figures what the hell? All you have to do is climb a ladder and scoop muck out. A very manly thing to do, right?

JC in blinking sweat out of his eyes as he pulls out dead leaves and other various things he doesn’t really want to know about. Already his gloves are covered in muck and mud. How the hell do Justin’s gutters get so damn messy when he’d only had the house for… What? A month?

Since JC’s busy scooping stuff out while trying not to fall off the ladder, he doesn’t notice the rustling sound right away. It isn’t until he’s tossing some more debris away that he hears it. He stops, and realizes it’s the sound of something moving in the grass and bushes on the ground below. As soon as JC stops, the noise stops. The rustling is replaced by an almost speculative quiet, as if…

“Justin.” JC doesn’t turn around and instead wipes his sweat from his eyes with his arm. He doesn’t need to look to know. “Stop staring at my ass.”

“What?” The guilty voice says it all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Carefully looking over his shoulder, JC smiles down and says, “Yeah. Right.”

“Besides, I can’t even look now? You go and deprive me of sex and then expect me to not stare at your ass when it’s right there?” Justin sighs and the sound is on the edge of a groan. The pout comes out. “C. Please. I’m begging.”

JC laughs and turns back to the dirty gutter, but he doesn’t say anything more.

“What are you doing, anyway?” This is asked with a sigh, as if Justin has given up.

“Dumbass, what does it look like?”

“Cleaning the gutters?”

Scooping out more dead leaves and branches, clumped together in a wet mess, JC says, “By George, I think he’s got it.”

“But… why?”

“Because I’m trying to be more masculine,” says JC. The sentence is wry from the sardonic twist on his mouth. He knows the reason is ridiculous, but hell, the request was ridiculous in the first place.

Justin’s laugh floats up from below, carried on the breeze. “But… JC… you’re wearing a pink t-shirt.”

“So?” JC tries not to sound defensive. Tries and fails.

“A pink t-shirt. The tight kind that Brit would probably be okay with wearing.”

“So?”

Laughing again, Justin reaches up to pat the back of JC’s leg. “Keep trying,” is all he says before he goes back into the house.

JC growls at the semi-clean gutter. It was a stupid idea anyway.

* * *

“JC, come here.” Justin’s voice is coming from behind his closed bedroom door, muffled a little bit.

Somehow this worries JC. More than seeing Justin outside his window with a guitar. JC gets out of his bed and goes across the hall, opening Justin’s door cautiously. His jaw drops upon entering the room.

Okay… When did Justin’s posh-yet-mostly-normal bedroom become a set for a porn video? Sometime between yesterday and today, JC bets.

Scented candles that smell suspiciously like cinnamon provide the only lighting. About eight of them are set at different spots around the room, but the place is otherwise dark. The flickering candlelight is enough to reveal the rose petals on Justin’s bed and the fact that Justin is wearing red silk pajamas.

Justin smiles at him hopefully.

Which really doesn’t help, since JC is trying his damnedest not to burst out laughing. Trying… trying… nope, can’t do it.

“Damn. I thought it would work this time.” Justin flops down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re kidding, right?” JC’s wheezing and almost in tears, he’s laughing so hard.

Shrugging a little, Justin doesn’t say anything.

“Since you obviously need some help, here’s a hint: Don’t go to clichés to try to be romantic,” says JC. He clutches his stomach, which hurts from laughing. “And don’t plan anything cheesy like this, ever, ever again. Or I’m gonna kill you.”

Justin is laughing too, because he knows this is wrong. Way, way, wrong. So wrong it’s hilarious. He asks, “So… Keep trying?”

JC, still laughing too hard, just nods and goes back across the hall.

Before he closes the door, he hears Justin call, “But I like the candles!”

* * *

So. Okay.

Men. Manly. Macho. Masculine. A lot of other “m” words.

What exactly makes a man macho anyway?

Great, now JC has images of the Village People dancing around in his head.

JC doesn’t really get it. What does Justin want from him, anyway? To go around with guns in his holsters, tipping his cowboy hat and saying, “Howdy, ma’am?” Maybe load up on machine guns and go fight terrorist bombers? Or shave his head and join the Marines?

For some reason, JC finds that “masculinity” seems to equal “guns.”

And JC is greatly disturbed by this.

So maybe JC isn’t exactly the most… manly of men. He admits this. All right… he has a stylist and interior decorator, but that wasn’t fair, because so did Justin.

Well… okay… JC likes to wear sandals and pink t-shirts. And sometimes, just when he’s bored, mind you, JC likes to read romance novels. He never cries over them. Really. Never. All right… maybe once. Or twice. Or… Oh, forget it. Anyway, he likes art, music, and wine.

Probably half of the male population likes the stuff that JC likes. Well… maybe except for the romance novels. And the pink t-shirts. But still.

What makes a guy a man?

Joey is a macho manly man. A ladies’ man. So… what does Joey like to do?

Pick up girls.

Nah.

Act.

Nah.

Bug Lance.

Tempting, but… nah.

Cook.

Hmmm.

Okay. JC can do that.

* * *

JC is trying to make this lasagna dish. Joey e-mailed him the recipe after JC asked for it. It doesn’t look too hard. Besides, JC’s pretty good at cooking.

The noodles are boiling in the pot of water and JC is busy stirring the tomato sauce when he hears the front door open. Glancing at the clock on the wall, JC realizes it’s already seven at night. Justin has been out all day.

“C?” Justin’s voice echoes through the house.

“Hey,” JC calls back over his shoulder, still stirring. “In the kitchen.”

A rustling and the noise of footsteps come closer. “Hey,” says Justin from the kitchen doorway. “I got… uh…”

Smiling, JC turns around. “Where have you been all day?”

Justin is staring. Full-out, unashamed staring – so much so that JC worries that Justin’s eyes might fall out. The shopping bags in Justin’s hands fall from his fingers, unnoticed. They land on the kitchen floor with a papery thump sound.

“I’m cooking.” JC holds up his wooden spoon as proof. He’s grinning like a fool, but seeing Justin like this is fun to watch.

The only response JC gets is a slow blink. “Uh…” Justin says.

Did JC forget to mention he isn’t wearing anything as he’s cooking?

Carefully, JC puts down the spoon. He walks closer to Justin, who hasn’t moved from the doorway. The kitchen tiles feel cold under his bare feet. JC only stops walking when he’s about a foot away from Justin. And it’s pretty damn obvious that he’s getting hard. It’s so fucking hot to watch Justin watching him. “You hungry?” JC asks, voice soft.

“Um… ah…” Justin nods slowly.

JC grins. He moves ever closer and loops one arm around Justin’s neck, pulling them close together. “That’s good,” he whispers into Justin’s ear. Justin shudders a little. JC nods at the bags on the floor, and adds, “What did you get for me?”

“I… uh… I…” Justin swallows hard. He doesn’t look away from JC’s eyes. “Flowers.”

“That’s sweet.” JC smiles. He’s got a full hard-on now, which is of course really obvious, given his current state of dress. He wants to rub, to create some much-needed friction, but he resists the urge for the moment. Sighing into Justin’s ear, JC adds, “I wanna fuck you so bad, you know that?”

Justin only shudders again. His lips move silently but JC can just make out the breathless word that they form: Please.

“Am I man enough for you yet?” JC whispers with a wry smile. He leans close until their mouths are only a breath away from each other’s.

“Always,” Justin says, just as soft. Suddenly, Justin’s eyes are bright and clear and brilliant. They’re standing so close that those deep blues are the only things that JC can see. They blur and fill JC’s vision into eternity. Oh. Justin is saying something. “I don’t want you to change, you know. I don’t care. I want you to be… you.”

JC laughs. His breath rushes gently over Justin’s mouth and back onto his own. “Now that,” he says, “is what I call romantic.”

“Really? Where?” Justin turns his head a little, this way and that. He looks honestly confused. “Did I miss something?”

“Nevermind. It’s okay, J.”

“Alright. But… you said just I was romantic,” Justin points out. His smile changes from sweet to sly. Now Justin moves even closer and… oh, rubs. Just like that. Oh.

“Yes.” JC gasps. Gasps again. His bare hips move helplessly against Justin’s denim-clad ones. “Can we have sex yet?” JC asks, and is surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. He thinks he’s beginning to sound like Justin. Well… he’s, oh… not in much of a position to think at the moment.

Justin is laughing at him. The bastard. He. Oh. Rubs again. Mmm. “What happened to the romance?” he asks, hips thrusting not-at-all innocently.

“Fuck being romantic,” JC says. He groans and reaches to tug at Justin’s ears until they’re both enveloped in a fierce kiss. His fingers fist in Justin’s short curls. They’re breathing each other’s air. “Just being you is enough.”

Smiling into their kiss, Justin says, “I could’ve told you that from the beginning.”

The End