Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)
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Fluffy Sesa-style coffee shop AU, but the summer edition
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Extracts from the journal of Christopher K---------,
19th December, 1888
(P--------, North Wales)I do my best not to be discouraged, but the comparison between our lodgings tonight, and the comforts of town and the warm brandy fug in which we concocted this plan, do not incline me towards optimism. I can admit here, in this journal, that I have never been as convinced as L.B and J.T, let alone my dear J.C, that L.B's discovered papers are going to lead us to proof of the Celtic mysteries of this remote corner of our nation, and tonight, alone in a cramped, damp bedroom so spartan as to fail to furnish me with a desk to write this at, any hopes that I may once have had are at a low ebb. J.F and N.C have approached this project from the start with the wry smiles of men who would humour their friends, and I find myself wondering it perhaps we would be more comfortable now if we had paid more heed to them?
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The door from the garage led into the mud room, and as JC opened the door, he could smell Chris’s chilli cooking.
“Hey, that smells good!”
Chris was at the stove, stirring up a big old pot of chilli, and he turned around with a grin.
“Hey, sweetness!” Chris greeted him, balancing the wooden spoon across the top of the pot to come over and give JC a hug. All these years together, and the way that Chris just fit in his arms, the top of his head tucking under JC’s chin, and his arms squeezing tight around JC’s waist, still made him happy. Chris’s embrace loosened, and JC ducked down for a kiss, a domestic brush of the lips that the hedonistic club-kid JC had been in college would have thought was lame and tame, but which gave now-JC a warm, happy glow.
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He looked over and grinned at Chris, who grinned back like a maniac who had never once grouched about being too old for this dancing monkey shit.
Joey could feel the smile stretching his cheeks as he sang and bounced and bye-bye-byed surrounded by his brothers-in-show-biz, buzzed like you wouldn't believe on the taste of dry ice and the scream of the crowd muted through his headset, and the voices of the other four layered over the top.
There was something about the music and the chemistry, and the fact that it wasn't just a room full of random people chanting their name and screaming for them, it was a room full of fucking MTV superstars.
Joey bounced three steps to his right, crossing back behind Justin to take his place for their final pose, and right there in front of him was Lady Gaga jumping in her seat, arms reaching out, like any teenie fan would have been back in the day, except in a mermaid shell bikini, and it was only the fact that Joey was a seasoned professional that kept him from laughing out loud because - seriously.
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“You have to fly out here.”
JC wasn’t normally so bossy - or so straight to the point - so the voicemail got Joey’s attention straight away.
“Joe, I ….” JC’s voice trailed off. “Just get here.” There was something tense and desperate in JC’s voice that tugged hard at Joey's heart strings.
That was when Joey pulled over, not caring that he was blocking someone’s driveway, and called JC straight back. He’d never doubted the depth or strength of their relationship, however non-conventional it was, but JC was just about the most self-sufficient person Joey knew, and he couldn’t remember a time when JC had come so close to begging for Joey’s time or attention.
Joey’s cell rang endlessly in his ear. No answer. Normally that would just meant that JC was locked in a studio somewhere, or had left his cell in yesterday’s jeans, or turned it off so it wouldn’t kill a good vibe, but after that message … Joey couldn’t help but worry.
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Tripping the Light Fantastic by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)
Fandom: Backstreet Boys, Popslash
01 Sep 2005
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