Puppies in a Box
by Sheherazade
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Unfortunately,
Chris was very resistant to all of JC’s charms; and while he
reasoned that perhaps it was because they knew each other so
well, there was still the point of Chris being. Well. Chris
was easy. In
Germany, he’d slept with every member of the group, ( except,
of course, JC ) and when they came home, he’d buddy fucked at
least three Backstreet Boys. Also,
JC had his suspicions about Ashley from O-Town, which was just
wrong in more ways than he cared to think about, and still. Nothing.
And
JC’d gone all out. The works. Whole nine yards. First,
he’d done the whole “wear very little, very tight clothing”
thing, and then the whole “compliment every thing he does” thing,
and then the entire tour of the “touch him every chance you
get” thing, and finally being desperate enough to bat his eyelashes
in a way that made Justin suggest he wore his glasses all the
time. He even planned for Chris to find him in a compromising
situation. ( He figured that Chris walking in while Nick Carter
was fucking him hard, bend over the kitchen table, was pretty
compromising. ) He’d also bought tons of “just for being you”
gifts. And
no results. Not a blowjob to show for it, not a single kiss,
not even random drunken gropage. Pretty
ego deflating. So
he started taking yoga classes, and knitted his mother a red
scarf, and everyone in the group got one in their favorite color,
and he took a few decoupage classes, but he just hated the way
he got so much glue on his hands, and when it was dry he could
peel it off like a second skin. But
he couldn’t get his mind off Chris. ¥ When
he turned 26, he held a small party for just the guys, and Chris
showed up with a big box that wasn’t wrapped. “Here.”
He said, putting it on the floor. JC
was pretty sure he’d seen the box move, but since nobody commented
on it, he stayed silent, warily eyeing the box. “You
need to open this first.” JC
looked at the box, then looked around at the other guys, because
the box had moved, and he wasn’t completely sure
he actually wanted to open it. But
then Chris cocked his head to the side and smiled expectantly
at him, so he slowly took the lid off. Inside
were two small puppies, and JC just blinked down at them. “Dogs”
he said and Chris practically beamed at him. “Puppies!”
Chris said. “Chris,
it’s dogs” he said, and Chris nodded. “Yeah,
yeah I know.” Chris smiled even wider, and JC was sure he’d
get a headache later, like when Britney had been around, and
had smiled all the time. Chris had really white teeth. He’d
never noticed. “But.”
He looked into the box, and the puppies were crawling all over
each other. “I'm bad with animals. And other living. Stuff.
I killed a cactus.” He said, and one of the puppies nudged at
his hand with a wet nose. He didn’t want to think about where
that nose had been. “You
had pets.” Chris argued, and JC shook his head. “They
were all Ty’s. Lou just always told us that we’d seem nicer
with pets.” JC said, and frowned. “Yeah,
like, Hitler.” Chris muttered, and Joey snorted. “Chris,
he can’t even remember to feed himself” Justin said, and Chris
touched JC lightly on the shoulder. “Take
care of them. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” JC
smiled uncertainly, but it seemed to be enough for Chris. ¥ One
of the puppies was a pug, like Busta, and he was always harassing
the other one, eating his food and biting his tail, and that
just reminded JC of Chris, so he called it Mini Chris. Which
after a while became far too long, so he shortened it to MC.
The
other pup was a mud, a cross between a greyhound and probably
everything else, and he just didn’t know what to name it. He’d
tried Lassie, but Joey had lifted an eyebrow and asked if he’d
really looked at the parts. Then he wanted to call it Mir, and
when he called and told Lance, he said that it was a nice gesture,
if somewhat ridicules, and that, no offence, it really wouldn’t
even the odds. He
asked Justin, exasperated, and Justin, munching on banana chips
in his expensive caramel colored leather couch, snorted. “Dude.
It’s like, that’s you. It looks like you, all skinny and with
a huge nose, and look-“ the pup shook it’s head, huge ears flopping
around, “it’s all ears, like you’re all hair.” “Now,
I don't think that was” JC started, but Justin shook his head. “Naw
man, it’s you. Mini JC.” So
Mini JC it was, which was also too long, and then Mini C, and
then, MC. ¥ “Really?”
Chris asked and JC nodded. “Yeah.”
He said. “It’s stupid.” “No
man, it’s cool.” Chris petted the greyhound, and it bend all
legs at the same time, rolling over on the back. “But
you can’t tell them apart.” JC said, and thought it was gross
when Chris lifted the pup and it licked him all over the face. “They
don’t look like each other at all.” Chris said, and wiped his
face. “No
that’s not what I, I mean, when I talk about them, and I'll
say, “So, my dogs MC and MC” – it’s stupid.” He lifted his legs
up on the couch when the pug passed him, and Chris shook his
head. “Dude,
whatever. It’s good names, and it’s not like they care anyway.”
He lifted the pug up and placed it in JC’s lap. JC
pressed his lips together, and ran a finger down the length
of the pug’s back. Chris
smiled. ¥ After
a while, he started to like the puppies. First he had Ty do
the walking and the feeding, and washing because they were loud
and tended to get themselves dirty in his well gardened backyard,
but after waking up, cuddled in between two small, warm puppy
bodies, he figured that they were okay. They
took a lot of getting used to, though, because the part of his
life that wasn’t lived as a fifth of a whole was very lonely.
Sure, Joey lived on the other side of the street, and Ty never
turned down an invitation to get away from the parents, though
JC was almost as bad; but mostly, he lived all alone in his
big pretty house with the great view, and he never talked, never
sang, because any sound, even his quiet breathing, bounced off
the soft ivory walls and around the great halls, and it sounded
like there were thousands of people, and really, it was just
him. Most of the time, he stayed silent, and because he liked
the silence, he never really ventured further than his own backyard,
because the real world was harsh and noisy, and Joey was a loud
person, who yelled greetings that carried across the small street,
disturbing the carefully crafted peace in the community that
they paid so much money for. Now,
sometimes, he would leave the house, for the only reason that
when he came back, there would be a little welcome committee
of barks and wagging tails and little wet kisses on his hands
and cheeks. And
sometimes, when visiting the outside world, he would marvel
at all the things it had to offer that his house just didn’t. Movies
just seemed better when watched in a huge theatre that smelled
like buttered popcorn; and he rediscovered the joy of browsing
the most expensive stores at the mall, knowing he could buy
it all, only to shop at Target and secretly laugh at all the
idiots who bought the same things he did, only in more costly
wrapping. He
also made friends with Lene, the 80 year old lady, whose grandfather
had moved to the States from Denmark, who worked at the pet
shop at the mall, and she gave him advice on how to give them
the right exercise, discounts on the toys, and little free samples
of all the food, so he could see which food the dogs liked the
best. MC
the Grey, as he refereed to it in his head, had this habit of
getting overly excited about everything, being fed, being petted,
being taken for a walk; and whenever he would show this extreme
happiness, he would pee all over himself.
At first, it annoyed JC because it was gross and completely
unsanitary, and he sorta tried to avoid the pup and focus his
attention on the pug, so that MC the Grey wouldn’t get excited
- and therefore pees, but after a while he got used to it, and
actually started finding it somewhat endearing. Also,
his mom told him, that when he was a kid, he did the same thing.
¥ Usually,
on vacations and breaks, he preferred the air-conditioned inside
of his house, and slept through entire days, but this time is
different. He
plays out in his yard with the dogs, taking them for long walks
down at the beach, and all the extra exercise makes him hungry,
so he cooks large dinners because he overestimates how much
he can eat, and he invites Lene over, and they eat and play
with the dogs, and he drives her home, way past midnight. The
weird thing is, that he doesn’t feel tired at all. ¥ Johnny
calls JC one day, because he is worried that maybe the fans
will forget them during the hiatus, cause teenagers, and teenage
girls especially, are fickle, he tells JC, who nods while tearing
the foil of a can, the dogs loud by his feet. A
PR trip to Europe for him and Chris is arranged, and since Lance
is in Russia, Joey doesn’t want three babies in his house, and
Justin is having too much random sex that JC thinks will scar
the puppies, he has to leave them at a kennel. It’s the last
thing he does before they go to the airport, and Chris is with
him. “-
and the greyhound likes it if you put a little bit of chocolate
milk in his food.” He says, and the girl holding the leashes
nods, somewhat overbearing. “Right,
yes.” She says, and her eyes search the ceiling for something. “Oh,
and please remember that –“ JC is petting his pockets, trying
to find that slip of paper where all the phone numbers are on,
and Chris gives it to the girl, fingers digging into JC’s bicep,
dragging them out. “Chris!”
JC says, irate, and just a little hurt, when they’re driving
towards the airport. “What?”
Chris asks, and rolls down his window. “I
didn't even get to say goodbye to them.” JC pouts a little,
and then stares demonstratively out of his window. Chris’s
eyes never leave the road, but he can’t help but smile. JC is a quiet sleeper. That’s the only reason
why the guys are so okay with
him falling asleep everywhere, because it’s annoying,
really, but he rolls up really small and quiet, and sometimes,
they almost forget he’s there. He’s
drooling a little, on the window, but that’s okay. Chris has
seen California from the air before, and he likes it better
looking up. So
he looks at JC, and again, he cannot help but smile. He knows
The Reason why he bought the puppies for JC, but right now,
the reason that JC is tanned and beautiful, well fed and in
great shape is also a very good reason. First
time around, Europe was cold, but held a lot of promise. It
still does, only this time around Chris doesn’t think he’ll
be cold. ¥ He
is wrong. That in itself isn’t a huge surprise, but it’s summer,
and he’s rich, and he lives in penthouse suites on the top of
the world. He shouldn’t be cold, but he is. He’s
pretty sure that they are somewhere in Scandinavia, and he thinks
it might be Stockholm, cause all the girls are blonde and pretty,
and the DJ’s speak English with a soft accent that he likes
listening to. JC
is out somewhere, and he is standing in the bathroom. The
tiles in the bathroom floor are heated. He stands there the
entire evening, looking at his reflection, his feet warm, the
rest of his body shivering. He
hates the mirrors in hotel bathrooms. And the lighting. And
especially the visual he gets of himself, bathed in bright light,
looking at his mirror image. He
looks older than usual. He can see every pore in his skin, follow
every wrinkle in his face, count every red line in his eyes.
He
likes it better in his own bathroom where the mirror is dirty
and the light dimmer. A
weird rap on the door startles him, and he hesitates a moment
before opening the door in his boxers. JC’s outside, drunk and
leaning on a guy that’s blond and handsome, very tall, and obviously
completely sober. “Chris!”
JC greets, and smacks Chris on the cheek with sticky strawberry
daiquiri lips. “This
is, Chris!” he says, and points between Chris and the blonde
guy. “Cool,
right man?” he asks, and leans towards Chris with little coordination,
and the other Chris has to catch him. “He
has a border collie” JC whispers loudly, pointing at the other
Chris. “I
was just telling Josh about it.” the blonde Chris says with
a wide fake smile, and
all of a sudden Chris doesn’t like the Swedish accent. He likes
it even less when Blonde Chris and JC walks down the hall to
JC’s room, Blonde Chris groping JC’s ass. He
closes the door and looks down at his crotch, his dick hard
and frustrated, and he jerks off quickly in the shower before
going to bed. ¥ There’s
no trace of Blonde Chris at the breakfast table, and JC never
even mentions him. Chris
figures that either he was a bad lay, or they really just did
talk about dogs. ¥ That
same evening, JC takes Chris out in the rented Land rover, and
they drive forever, until they come to a place that makes Chris
feel like he is the first person on earth. The
night air is crisp and sharp against his face, and JC points
towards the Northern star in a park all night watching the stars, the
air sharp and crisp, and JC’s smile seems brighter than the
Northern star. When he leans close to Chris, Chris feels like
Lady and the Tramp, and he knows, just feels it in his bones, that this
could be the moment, but he chickens out, and points to the
sky. “Look,
a shooting. No. Oh, I just thought.” He says, and JC looks at
his profile for a long time. “Yeah,
me too.” ¥ JC
never mentions that either, and is polite and sweet as always
the next morning, but Chris can feel his eyes on him whenever
he turns around, and he knows that he’s a coward and an asshole,
but he doesn’t know how to fix that. Or
well, he does, but maybe he’s not completely ready for that.
¥ JC
gets a cold, somewhere on their way home,
and Chris has to go to some interviews alone, which sucks,
cause he’s best when he has someone he can play off. With the
guys, there’s always someone who says something, or does something,
or wears something so terrible that he just has to comment on
it. When he’s by himself, interviewers often ask him about his
age or Justin’s solo album, in accented English that sounds
more foreign to his ears than their native language does. ¥ “It’s
gonna be good to come home.” JC says as the dogs are crawling
all over him, licking him and wagging their tales excitedly.
The grey doesn’t pee, and for that he’s grateful. “Tell
me about it.” Chris says, because now he can jerk off till his
hand is sore and his dick feels abused. “I
had fun Chris.” JC says, and his voice is raised to drown out
the puppies. “Yeah
me too.” Chris says, nodding at the road. “No,
I mean. It was nice spending time you know. Just the two of
us? just, oh. That was cheesy.” JC smiles sheepishly and Chris
snorts. “I
mean. “ Chris stops in front of his house and the dogs bark
excitedly when they recognize where they are. He
never gets to explain what he means, but he hopes Chris knows
anyway. ¥ A
few weeks later, someone is knocking furiously at his door,
and he goes to open it, a little timid, because it sounds like
it’s a cave troll or something. “Fucker”
JC says, and pushes him hard in the chest. He stumbles backwards,
and JC kicks the door closed, but not before MC and MC run into
the house, loudly barking and yapping. “You
fucking fucker!” JC says, and pushes him again. He
isn’t completely sure what’s going on, but thinks that maybe
JC has one of those delayed reaction syndrome things, and is
only now realizing that there could have been kissage, but that
Chris screwed up. “You
knew! You fucking knew how you felt, and you felt it too, and
I have to read it in a fucking magazine! Fuck you!” JC rants,
yelling to be heard over the dogs that are scampering about
near their feet. “What
did you want me to do?” Chris yells back, and JC falls silent,
panting. The dogs quiet down too, and then JC steps even closer
to Chris, the Sugar magazine falling from his pocket. “This,
I wanted you to do this.” He whispers, and kisses Chris softly.
“It
could have been so easy.” He says, and there’s regret in his
voice. “But
were complicates people Jayce” Chris says before he leans in
for another kiss. “And
we’re here now. Isn’t that good enough?” he can feel JC’s lips
curve into a sweet smile, and he whispers, warm breath spreading
a flush in Chris’s cheeks. “I
like my birthday present.” “Me
too.” Chris says, because he thought he’d taken the shortcut,
and instead found himself on a detour, but it doesn’t matter,
because JC is there, and the dogs are cheering them on as they
stumble up the stairs to his bedroom. “Chris Kirkpatrick from N Sync
is sitting across from me, and he looks great as ever. “JC is sick, so you’ll have
to do with me.” he says, and I smile, and tell him that he’s
always been my favorite. “So Chris, as the mature one
of the group, tell us, what do you look for in a soul mate?”
I ask, and he looks thoughtful for a moment before answering.
“Animals.” He then says. “Excuse me?” “I love animals. Cats and dogs
especially. And I just can’t see myself with someone who didn’t
love animals too.” This is what I'm saying, girls!
You can never go wrong with an animal lover. “So what you’re saying is, that
we need to go out and buy ourselves a pooch to get your attention?” “Something like that.” He says
and smiles.” October 9th, 2002 |