(You've Got) That Pornstar Flava (3/7)

[amfiguree]

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It turns out that distributing the ad is the least of their problems.

After the four hundred and twenty third applicant, Chris is pretty convinced they're never going to find the right person. "It's filing," he laments. "It's filing, picking out porn, and showing up for work on time. Why the hell haven't we found someone?"

"You either scared them off, or shoved them out the door," AJ points out.

"Great," Chris snaps. "So it's my fault that this town is full of incompetent assholes?"

AJ sighs, mock patiently. "Chris, who the fuck else is going to apply for a job at TRANS-PORN?"

"Uh," someone says, hesitantly.

"We're closed," Chris bites out, still glaring at AJ. "You know, you haven't exactly been actively involved in the interviews, so--"

"Okay," AJ says easily. "Leave the rest of them to me."

"Excuse me--"

"You?" Chris snorts.

AJ raises an eyebrow. "How do you think I find the people you cast in your porno, man?"

"Hey, guys?"

Chris stifles a snort. "You really want me to answer that?"

AJ lobs a wad of balled up application forms at him. "Oh, fuck you."

"Yeah," Chris says, smugly. "There's been a lot of that--"

"Hey, I'm Justin Timberlake. I'm here for a job interview?"

Chris and AJ share a look, and then Chris glances up. "Job interview?"

Justin smiles, a little uncertainly. "Yeah. I, uh, I saw the flyer out in the window."

"Okay," Chris says, giving Justin a quick once over. "I don't know which flyer you're talking about, but we're an adult DVD store. If you want GAP, it's two streets down."

Justin shrugs. "Dude, you can fancy it up all you want. You're still selling porn."

Chris doesn't have to turn around to know that AJ's grinning. "That's not the point," he says. "And good going impressing your potential colleagues, by the way. If I had--"

"You're hired."

"What?" Chris squawks. He turns to glare at AJ. "What are you--"

"I'm in charge, remember?" AJ tells him, curtly. Then, to Justin, he adds, "You start in an hour. Go get a spare uniform."

Justin beams.

*

It quickly becomes apparent that Justin pretty much worships the ground Chris walks on. His first day on the job he's like a fucking shadow, or a puppy, or some sick combination of both, tagging at Chris' heels, taking notes and looking over Chris' shoulder at the various customers every two seconds.

"Dude," Chris snaps eventually. "You're hovering. Quit it."

"Sorry," Justin mutters, flushing. "Sorry, sorry."

It's fucking annoying.

The only time he leaves Chris' side is when he needs to use the bathroom, and Chris takes the five minutes to storm over to AJ, pluck the cigarette from between his fingers, and take a long drag. "I can't believe you okay-ed him," he mutters. "He's like a goddamn stalker."

AJ takes his cigarette back, completely unruffled. "You're going to thank me eventually," he says.

Chris opens his mouth to argue, but then he pauses, gives AJ another careful once over. "What are you so fucking pleased about?"

AJ smirks. "You remember Ashley, right? I spent last night making sure he's as good off camera as he is on it."

"Oh my god," Chris groans. "This better not become one of your habits, McLean."

"Skip the lecture, Chris," AJ grins. "I've heard this all before."

Chris is about to retort, but then Justin's back from his bathroom break, and all he can do is shoot AJ a glare and mutter, through gritted teeth, "Shmuck."

*

As it turns out, though, AJ's right. (About Ashley and Justin both.)

*

The next morning, Justin brings in a pack of AJ's favorite smokes, and a cup of black coffee for everyone else.

AJ practically lights up at the sight. Then he actually lights up, and takes a deep, long drag.

"You're a smart son of a bitch," Chris moans, into his cup.

Justin flushes, again, and AJ shoots a smug grin in Chris' direction. "Aren't you glad I talked you into giving him a second chance?"

Justin looks confused for a second, then his eyes grow wide and he turns to Chris accusingly. "Dude. You were gonna fire me? It's only my second day!"

"Kid," Chris drawls, "If you'd been half this attentive yesterday, I would've offered you a fucking raise."

"Yeah, with money you don't have," Justin points out.

AJ's grin is almost feral. "So there's a bitch beneath the puppy-dog eyes," he observes. He looks at Justin, clearly sizing him up. "I like you better already."

Chris glares at that, and AJ blows a ring of smoke in his face. Chris rolls his eyes and ignores him instead. "With money I'm making," he says to Justin, primly. "Now get back to helping me earn it."

*

Business only gets better from there on out. Chris is doubtful at first, but after he gets over his initial starry-eyed wonder, Justin actually takes to the job pretty quickly. For one thing, he has a vested interest in porn, and not in a weird, fucked-up way. For another, he can get anyone to warm up to him in two seconds flat. Anyone.

See, after all this time, Chris has pretty much every customer pinpointed and categorized the minute they walk into the store. He always makes sure to steer clear of the first-timers. They're skittish and embarrassed, and he's a little too loud for their comfort. It's even worse if they're Mormon. But Justin's all charm and warmth, making them feel right at home without even trying.

Chris is almost envious.

Then there are the oddballs: some come in with requests so absurd Chris has to grit his teeth so he doesn't start cracking up in their faces. Some come in looking for a specific video they saw, like, ten years ago and could never forget, only they can't remember the title, but what they can remember, they like to describe in minute, vivid detail. Some come in on dares, or drunken whims, and they're always the easiest to talk into things, which Chris fully exploits. He sends them away with no less than four tapes at a time, which he always considered an accomplishment until Justin starts convincing them to rent twice that.

There are the regulars, too, the ones Chris knows by name, height and eye color, who come to him for recommendations whenever they stop by. They like to hang out by the counter sometimes, when it's quiet. The only difference is, where they used to talk about football, they now talk about Justin. It's a little uncomfortable, but not enough to stop Chris from putting in a comment of his own every now and then.

He's not a fan of pedophilia, but he's not fucking blind.

"It's interesting," Justin says, one night, as he helps Chris close up. "It's not a steep learning curve or anything, but the people. I never thought I'd meet so many different kinds."

"Different people!" Chris cheers, mock enthusiastically. "How awesome!"

So he's a little bitter.

"Come on, man," Justin laughs, as he bumps Chris' hip with his own. "Why you gotta be like that? Let's hang out. I'll even spring for beer."

Despite himself, Chris smiles. Dammit. "What for?"

"For surviving another day at the store? For being hot, gay, and single?" Justin offers, rolling his eyes. "Do we really need a reason to drink?"

It's a good point, especially since it's technically get-drunk-with-C-and-Joey Thursday. Chris pauses, caught in a moment of indecision. He hasn't blown JC off since he broke up with Dan in college.

"God, stop thinking all the time," Justin says, wrapping an arm around Chris' shoulders and tugging him forward. "No wonder people think you're thirty, the way you go on about shit."

It's a distraction tactic. Chris knows it's a distraction tactic. It still fucking works. "What?" he demands, as Justin leads him down the street. "Who the hell told you I'm thirty?"

*

It doesn't take Chris long to discover that Justin's really easy to get along with. They fall into an easy groove at work, communicating with hand signals and eyerolling behind the customers' backs, and then it's just natural progression that they start hanging out after. They shoot hoops, throw back a couple of beers, bitch about the day they just shared and the people they had to serve.

"You're surgically attached at the fucking hip," AJ mutters, when Justin's been there a month. Not that Chris had been counting -- Justin circled the date on the calendar in the staff room weeks ago.

"Shut up," Chris says.

Justin wanders past them, then, and smacks the back of AJ's head.

"What the fuck?" AJ demands.

"Chris was looking at you like you deserved it," Justin calls back breezily, already halfway out the store for his lunch break.

Chris decides right there and then that Justin should get a celebratory dinner.

He calls JC, Joey and Howie over later that evening, and they close the store for a couple of hours while they order pizza. Joey brings booze, and they're just settling into their seats when the penis bell goes. "Pizza delivery!"

"I'll get it," AJ grumbles, when it's clear no one else is going to volunteer. "Typical. Timberlake gets a party his first month here, and I get to play fucking bellboy."

Justin throws a wad of Kleenex at him. "Quit stalling, Grouchy. Go fetch me my food."

*

Fifteen minutes later, Chris decides that AJ would make a fucking shitty bellboy.

"What the hell is he doing?" Justin asks.

Howie looks at the door speculatively. "Should we be worried?"

"I'm gonna go get him," Joey says finally, and pushes to his feet.

JC takes the opportunity to lean over and nudge Chris' side. "AJ's not the only one who's pulling the disappearing act, you know," he murmurs. "I hear you're a hotshot director now--"

Chris rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Very funny, Chasez. I'm just--"

"I come bearing food!" AJ announces, as he steps back into the room.

Chris looks up at Joey, who's leaning against the door frame, arms folded, wearing a fond but exasperated smile. "He was getting friendly with the delivery boy," he informs them, with a nod in AJ's direction.

Justin raises an eyebrow. "Dude. You had, like, fifteen minutes. That was so not enough time for a quickie."

"That's what you think," Chris snorts.

AJ mimes throwing a box of pizza at him, but it's half-hearted at best. "Stop being such fucking voyeurs," he says, smugly.

"Says the exhibitionist," Howie points out. "If I have to hear about your sex lives, the least you can do is minimize the teasing."

Joey makes a face. "Speak for yourself," he says. "Discretion isn't exactly AJ's specialty, so let's just thank him for the small favors and move on."

AJ blows Joey a kiss. "I love you too, stud."

Justin drops his head on Chris' shoulder. "Like an old married couple," he says, in a stage-whisper. His hair tickles Chris' cheek, and his hand is warm on Chris' thigh when Chris grins.

"Okay," JC says, then, as he reaches for a fresh can of beer. "If you're all done flirting, I think it's time we dig in."

*

It's a long time before they share another meal after that. Business is picking up, and everyday seems busier than the last. They're all clocking longer and longer hours, and each shift is full of demanding customers wanting to know when their inane requests will be filled, on top of self-proclaimed actors insisting on explanations for the fact that their on-screen penises are two sizes smaller than their actual merchandise.

"Well, if you weren't wilting all the time," Chris had all but hissed in response, one particularly hectic day, which is when Howie had taken him by the shoulders and pointed him towards the employee room, before taking up post at the counter himself, with Justin, to deal with the frenzied, impatient, growing in-house crowd.

Chris flops onto the battered couch with a groan, and listens to the couch springs groan along in protest. "People," Chris mutters, under his breath. "I hate fucking people."

"Pity, since you're pretty much in the business."

Chris startles as he looks up, then rolls his eyes when he realizes it's only AJ. "Where the fuck have you been?" he demands. "It's a shit storm and a half out there."

"Only sensible place to be during a shit storm is in here," AJ reasons. "And you know they'll call me when they need back-up, so stop talking and let me finish this."

"What the hell are you--" Chris begins. But then the remote control to the store's sole TV set hits him in the stomach, and he breaks off to double over. "Jesus fuck, AJ," he wheezes. "Watch where you're aiming that shit." AJ doesn't turn around. "Hello? Internally injured employee here, asshole."

"Quit moaning," AJ says, as he bobs his head at the screen. "You know, that guy looks kind of like the one in that picture you showed me. Your old bandmate."

"Who?" Chris asks, as he semi-straightens, and joins AJ by their crappy little three-inch TV set. Lou's pretty much the walking definition of cheap bastard.

"David something?" AJ taps his finger against the monitor - lightly, though, just in case the whole set topples over. "The one that just won American Idol?"

"American Idol?" Chris demands. "That's what you're fucking hiding out in here to watch?"

AJ glares at him, then Chris feels AJ's hand up against his neck, right before he has his face shoved against the screen. "Ow," he protests, then cuts himself short. Stares at the blinking images on TV. "Holy shit," he breathes, eyes wide as he turns back to look at AJ. "That son of a bitch." AJ's watching him, eyebrow raised, and Chris breaks into a wide, manic grin. "That son of a bitch, he actually did it!"

He's fumbling with his phone before AJ can respond. David fucking Cook. They haven't spoken in years, not since the band split up, but it'd been amicable, and Chris still has Cook's number stored in his contact list, just waiting for an excuse to be dialed. Cook answers his phone on the third ring, with a sandy laugh and a "Finally decided you'd cash in on my fame, huh? What took you so long?" before waving off all of Chris' attempts at congratulations with a casual, "what the hell have you been up to?"

"Like you're actually interested, hot shot," Chris retorts.

"No, you're right, I was just being polite," Cook says, and Chris grins and rolls his eyes.

"Seriously," he says. "Congratulations, man. That's fucking huge."

"Ah, y'know," Cook replies. "Once you're in the top two, it's 50-50."

"Real modest there," Chris deadpans. "As usual."

"Come on, man," Cook says, but he sounds like he's grinning now. "I'm gonna get a big head if we keep talking about me. What's going on with you? Are you doing that movie thing like you used to talk about? Hamming it up in Hollywood?"

"Shut up," Chris tells him, but his laugh gets caught in his throat for a second. "That's water under the bridge. Right now I'm living the glamorous lifestyle of the porn-store employee."

Cook howls. "Always knew you were the one with the master plan."

"Says the newest American Idol," Chris shoots back. "Nice going with the hair, by the way. It's very... Extreme Makeover of you."

"Don't diss the hair," Cook says, without heat. "It has its own fanbase."

Chris snorts, and a second later Justin pokes his head into the room, frowning. "What the fuck are you guys doing?" he hisses. "There are people waiting to be served out here!"

"I was trying to watch TV," AJ pipes up, from his position on the couch, with a pointed look at Chris. When Justin doesn't budge, AJ rolls his eyes and pushes to his feet. "Fine," he huffs, and leaves the room.

Chris glares at Justin, motioning at his phone, but Justin just glares back and jerks his thumb in the direction of the counter. Customers, hello? he mouths, and Chris rolls his eyes. "All right, superstar," he says, into the phone. "I gotta go. I know the concept is probably lost on you right now, but some of us still have to work to earn our keep, you know?"

"Fuck off," Cook laughs, and then, muffled, adds, "Okay, okay. No more cursing. Dang it." Then he's back again. "Sorry about that. My keeper's eavesdropping - ow, Archie!" A scuffle, more laughter, and then Cook comes back again. "Listen, Chris, it was good hearing from you, man," he says, so sincerely that Chris doesn't even reach for any kind of deflection.

"Yeah," he replies, instead. "Good hearing from you too."

"I need to check out your store one of these days," Cook goes on. "So call me back and we'll set something up."

"Absolutely," Chris agrees, making a mental note of it as he snaps his phone shut. Cook's a decent enough guy that he'll feel bad if he doesn't actually go through with it.

Justin eyes him curiously. "Who was that?"

Chris rolls up his sleeves without answering, then heads back out towards the counter. Justin bumps his shoulder when they pass each other at the door, but Chris just raises an eyebrow, looks pointedly at him, and says, "Customers, hello?"

Justin opens his mouth, but then Howie looks up and spots them. "Guys," he calls. "Customers, hello?"

"Yeah," said customer snaps. He's Indian, looks about forty, and Chris would bet anything he's wearing a wig. "And your ceiling is fucking rotting on me, so would you mind?"

Chris yanks the door to the employee room shut and plasters on a smile. "I hate fucking people," he mutters, through gritted teeth, before Justin shoves him back into line and goes to make sure AJ doesn't hit their next potential patron over the head with the cash register.

*

Business seems to double post that, which Chris suspects is due to Cook spreading the word among his constantly expanding circle of friends. That's all fine and dandy, except it means that they need to film more porn, and they need it stat. The only problem with that, as it turns out, is AJ.

"You really fucking get around," Chris snarls, as he's hung up on for about the twentieth time in a row. He crosses out the last name on AJ's potential-pornstar directory, then crumples it and flings it at AJ's head.

AJ barely ducks it. "Would you relax? You have nothing to worry about. We're in a town full of potential talent."

"Yeah?" Chris sneers. "How long is that going to last when your mission statement is to leave no ass untapped?"

"What can I say?" AJ smirks. "I'm a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy."

"AJ!"

"Jesus, okay. Just watch where you're pointing that pen."

Chris glowers, brandishing the pen like a taser. "Then stop. Screwing. My. Talent."

*

AJ actually keeps things on the down low pretty much that whole week. It's possibly due more to the fact that there's no one sitting around TRANS-PORN all day waiting to be hit on than anything else, but Chris decides to chalk it up to his inspiring powers of persuasion. It's the only highlight of his week.

They're in dire need of new material, which makes Chris antsy, and it takes him for-fucking-ever to find Erik and Jacob, who are only willing to consider doing the film for twice what he usually pays. They have to come in for a screen test, and Chris smacks AJ hard when he sees AJ checking them out.

"I'm serious, asshole," he hisses. "You don't want to know what I paid to get these guys on board and I want them to stay that way. Come within ten feet of them and you're going to be stuck doing inventory the next fucking fifty years of your life."

AJ just rolls his eyes and flips Chris off before heading out for his smoke break, and Chris has to resist the urge to pound his fists into the counter top. "I'm not going to be fucking reduced to filming straight porn again because we can't find any fucking talent!" he shouts, after AJ.

"Problems?"

Chris doesn't need to look to know it's JC. "Same old," he sighs. Then, raising his voice so it carries, he adds, "Some of us just need to learn how to stop fucking everything that breathes!"

JC stifles a smile as he offers Chris a cup of coffee. "So do you think you can handle acting like a normal human being or should I come back later?"

"Hate to break it to you, C, but we're way past normal human interaction," Chris says, gratefully accepting his shot of Starbucks.

"Trust me, I got that memo a long time ago," JC grins. "I'm not asking for me." Chris raises an eyebrow at that, and JC jerks his head in the direction of the front door. "Look who showed up on my doorstep."

Chris frowns as he glances over JC's shoulder, and then almost does a double take. "Jesus, Bass. Is that you?"

Lance spreads his arms with a flourish and a crooked smile as he steps out from behind JC. "I'm back from Boston, baby."

Chris grins, and pulls Lance into a quick, one-armed hug. "Must be my lucky year. What brings you home?"

Lance shrugs, fingers skating across the counter top. "I just missed it," he says, without quite looking up. "It felt like a good time to revisit the neighborhood."

JC smiles warmly as he touches Lance's wrist. "How long are you staying?"

"I haven't decided," Lance admits. He looks like he's about to say more, but then he just shakes his head and falls quiet.

"Here," Chris says, as he tosses their accounts book at Lance. It's his temporary 'get out of jail free' card."Let's see what being in that fancy accountancy college has taught you."

Lance rolls his eyes, but begins flipping through the book. Within seconds, his smile vanishes. "Chris, these accounts are messed up."

"That's because I'm still only as good as math as I was in college," Chris replies, with a shrug.

Lance chews on his lower lip for a moment, struggling with himself. When he looks up again, his gaze is steady. "Give me two weeks and I can put them in order."

Chris blinks. "Lance--"

"Take me on longer and I'll keep them that way."

"Wow."

Lance's shoulders slump, just a fraction. "I need a job," he says, quietly. "So if you're looking."

"But the salary..." Chris trails off, then gestures around the store. "It pretty much speaks for itself."

"I'll take it," Lance says, on some desperate burst of courage. "Whatever you're offering, I'll take it."

JC stares, and Chris shakes his head. "I have fuck all to offer, man."

Lance's eyes go oddly soft. "Chris."

It's the first time in all the years they've known each other that Lance is asking him a favor. "Dammit," Chris mutters. "Fuck, okay, fine. You can have my share of the salary, for fuck's sake."

JC turns to him, wide-eyed. "Right now, you aren't getting a salary, Chris."

"Motherfucking details."

*

It turns out that their accounts are in worse shape than any of them had expected, and sorting them out keeps Lance busy for the next couple of weeks. He sits Chris down when he's done, expression grave, fingers steepled, looking every inch like the accountant he'd gone away to become.

"Chris," he says. It sounds like a death sentence, and the sudden, ridiculous streak of pride Chris had been feeling is immediately quashed. "You can't keep this up." Chris opens his mouth to protest, because what the hell is that supposed to mean, but Lance just pushes two large, green books across the table at him. "This?" Lance continues, as he gestures at the first book, "Is the company's monthly profit."

It's a nice, healthy sum of money, and Chris lets out a low whistle.

"And this," Lance adds, then, tapping the edge of the other book, "Is your personal expenditure."

Chris all but slams that book shut. "What's your point?"

Lance doesn't even flinch. "What's the plan here?" he counters. "Sure, on a good month, the money you get kissing Pearlman's ass is enough to cover the porn you're making on the side, but what happens when it doesn't?"

Chris had almost forgotten what it's like to be on the receiving end of Lance's difficult questions. "That's your job, isn't it?" he replies, flatly. "Figuring out my exit strategy."

Lance opens his mouth to protest, but then Erik storms into the room, clearly distraught. He marches up to Chris and shoves a couple of bills into his hand. "You're gonna have to find someone else."

Whatever Chris had been about to say dies on his lips. "What?"

"I can't do this stupid film," Erik says, as he scrubs a hand agitatedly through his hair. "He slept with Jacob, like, two hours after me! God, it doesn't have to be chocolate and roses, but two hours?"

"Is he serious?" Lance mutters.

Chris isn't sure which 'he' Lance is referring to. So much for AJ employing his self-restraint.

Erik takes a long, deep breath and shakes his head. "Look, I'm not paid enough to take this shit, okay? Just - find some other actor."

He's gone before Chris can say another word, and there's a sudden burst of noise as Jacob comes into the store front before the doors have even swung fully shut, Justin at his heels.

"Jacob, come on, man," he's saying, and Chris' stomach sinks. "It's a couple of hours on location, tops. You'll be in and out before you know it."

"Trust me, I got a firsthand taste of that," Jacob sneers, darkly, barely looking over his shoulder at Justin as he stalks over to the counter. "Here's your money. Good fucking luck with your casting."

"Jacob," Chris says.

Justin winces as the door slams shut. Then he swivels around, glaring at AJ, who's just come into the room. "Goddammit, AJ," he snarls. "Keep it in your fucking pants!"

AJ folds his arms over his chest. "What, you're jumping on the 'let's-ruin-AJ's-sex-life' wagon, too? Big surprise."

"Goddammit!" Justin rails. "I am sick of cleaning up after your fucking shit! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get those guys to come in to audition? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sick of my shit?" AJ demands. "How is my personal life any of your goddamn business?"

"If you stopped fucking people at work," Justin seethes. "It wouldn't have to be!"

Lance puts a hand on Chris' shoulder. "We should--"

Chris shoots him a quelling look. "We'll deal with this later," he says, steel in his voice. "Right now, I have a porno to save."

Justin already has AJ backed up against the wall when Chris starts paying attention again. They're up in each other's faces, both yelling and pissed and just about ready to throw the first punch. "You want what I have," AJ spits. "You're pissed because I'm out getting some, and you don't know how to ask. It's pathetic."

"What the hell do you know?" Justin growls. "You talk the talk, but what it fucking comes down to is--"

"And then you kiss," Chris interrupts.

"You're just--what?"

"Then you kiss," Chris repeats mildly, spreading his hands. The hard look he gives AJ completely belies his tone. "You got us into this mess. You fix it."

"Me?" AJ stares at Justin. "Us? Together?"

"But I didn't do anything!" Justin protests, completely stricken. "Why am I being punished?"

AJ's eyes narrow. "Yeah," he grits out. "Fucking an actual human being. There's a hardship."

"Should I get you a mirror?" Justin sneers.

AJ elbows him, hard. "Just don't fucking cry when I find someone else to sleep with after the shoot."

"Yeah," Justin snorts. "You're a real classy act, McLean."

Chris nods at them. "Perfect."

*

Chris thinks about drawing out the punishment for all of two seconds, but the customers are itching for a new release, and Joey's quickly running out of vacation days. When they film it, it's quick and dirty and gritty, and AJ lets Justin shove him against the wall hard enough to bruise. When they kiss, it's more of the same, tongue and teeth and wild, angry passion.

"I fucking hate you," AJ snarls, barely any acting involved at all, and then Justin's hoisting him up, hands huge on his thighs, his hips, his ass. AJ holds onto him, fingernails digging into his back, and every time Justin moves, he pushes back, harder, rougher, till Justin's panting and moaning, nothing but AJ's name on his lips.

"Cut!" Chris calls. He makes an abortive hand gesture at Joey, then shakes his head. "Justin, you're fucking overacting again. Tone it down. This isn't fucking Nirvana."

"Overcompensating," AJ mutters. With the mic still plugged in, Chris can hear every word. "You seriously need to get laid."

Justin elbows him hard. Chris coughs into his hand, and even JC has to excuse himself for some water.

After a second, Joey clears his throat. "That's a wrap, guys. We'll, uh, we'll do something about that in post."

*

That takes care of the porn for now, but they're still out of talent, and AJ's not particularly subtle about the fact that he still isn't getting any. He's still moping when they call for pizza that night, as a reward of sorts, and it takes twice the usual amount of time before he comes back with their order.

"About damn time," Chris grumbles, when AJ finally gets back with the food. "Now pass me the grub, and--oh my god. You fucked the pizza boy."

AJ smirks, but he doesn't deny it. "I didn't know you were keeping tabs on my sex life outside of work."

Chris flicks a piece of broken ceiling plaster at his head. "What else am I supposed to do? You fucking advertise it."

"I'm big on sharing," AJ agrees.

Justin walks into the room, just then, only stopping short when he sees them. "Okay, you're either eye-wrestling, or I've just missed something huge. What's going on?"

"AJ just fucked the delivery boy," Chris informs him, helpfully.

"Dude!" Justin exclaims, leaning in with barely concealed interest. "Seriously? Details."

Chris cuffs him upside the head. "Justin!"

"You fucking perv," AJ snorts.

"Ow!" Justin protests. "What? Can you blame me? I mean, hi, have you seen the pizza guy?"

AJ rolls his eyes, but his lips are curved. "His name is Brian."

Justin looks at Chris imploringly. "Hi, have you seen Brian?"

Chris shakes his head. "Why do I even try?"

Justin gives Chris a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before turning back to AJ. "So? Spill."

Like there was ever a chance of AJ doing anything but. "I told him my hand was becoming too familiar with my dick," he says, smugly. "And he offered to fix it."

"Jesus Christ," Chris snorts. "With lines like that, who needs porn?"

"And?" Justin prompts, completely ignoring Chris' interjection.

"And?" AJ repeats, before he breaks into a grin; it's a cat-just-ate-the-twelve-singing-canaries kind of grin. "It was fucking awesome."

Justin buries his face in his hands. "Fuck," he moans. "You're right. I need to get laid."

Chris smacks the back of his head again. "Your sex lives are riveting," he deadpans. "And I'm so glad AJ's is fixed. But we're still out of talent."

*

As if in answer to Chris' prayers, Nick turns up the next day. "Halle-fucking-lujiah," Chris crows, when Nick comes into the store. For a second, he feels dangerously close to tears. "There is a god."

Nick grins. He looks even broader than when he left, if that's possible. "Missed me, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Chris concedes. "Please tell me you're here to make my porn."

"Whenever you need me," Nick says, spreading his arms with a laugh. "Something else for the portfolio, right?"

"Right," Chris agrees, as he ducks under the counter to grab the new script. "You could not have better fucking timing."

"Hey," he hears Nick say, as he rifles through the growing stack of membership application forms. "I didn't know TRANS-PORN was hiring."

"What, you mean Justin?" Chris asks, still sorting through the paperwork. "He's been here almost as long as you haven't, now."

"Yeah?" There's a grin in Nick's voice. "Do you guys get smoke breaks?"

"Justin doesn't need them," Chris points out. "Aha!" He emerges with his script in hand, and then pauses. Nick's grinning at him, in a way that clearly suggests he wants something. "What?"

"Just wondering," Nick says, shrugging with a poorly concealed interest. "Do I finally get to pick who I have sex with this time?"

*

As it turns out, Justin and Nick have the kind of onscreen chemistry that most people only dream about. Nick is fucking adorable in his suit and tie, wire-rimmed glasses hanging off the edge of his nose. Justin looks like he thinks it, too, and when he approaches Nick it's with all the confidence of a boy who knows the streets firsthand.

Chris believes it when he wraps a hand over Nick's tie and leans in, believes it even more when Nick leans back. When they kiss it's slow and thorough, Justin cupping the back of Nick's head like he's trying to steal Nick's breath. They fumble their way into an alley, Justin working on Nick's button-down the whole time.

"How much for the night?" Nick asks, shakily, when they pull away to breathe.

Chris believes that, too.

*

So the porn is great. The porn is fantastic. Sadly, in the movie that is Chris' life, things are less so. He's at the part of the storyline where the hero has to grit his teeth and get through it, sacrifices for the things he loves, all that work-now-happy-ending-later type of crap.

It storms the next Monday, so heavily that he starts putting out buckets to catch the water dripping into the store. Howie looks up at the ceiling when an errant raindrop falls on his forehead. "You know," he says. "I think the roof is actually getting worse?"

"Yeah," Chris nods, kicking at one of the pails. "Yeah, I know, I'll take care of it."

Lance remains studiously quiet until Howie's gone. "We can't keep this up, Chris," he says, then. It's the confrontation Chris has been waiting for since their last exchange. "Pearlman's never in, and without his approval, you don't have the insurance to cover a repairman."

"I know," Chris says, curtly.

"Look, Chris, I know business is up, which means profits are up, but you're still taking home the same paycheck as you have been the last three years. Every month you're forking out money from your bonus, or your savings, to keep the filming going, and you can't keep it up because eventually, they're both gonna run dry."

"I know that," Chris says, sharply. "But what am I supposed to do? Dammit, Lance, just get off my fucking back."

"You hired me to tell you these things," Lance points out, infuriatingly calm.

Chris snorts. "Yeah."

There's a second of silence. Then, "Look, I know you don't like what I'm saying, but I'm here because you need me to be--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Don't give me that!" Chris explodes. The penis bell rings, then, and he bites out, "We're not fucking open," without taking his eyes off Lance. "You're back here, Bass! You think I don't know what that means?"

Heat flares up on Lance's cheeks, fire in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing you want to hear," Chris snaps. "But I know when the accounts don't add up, okay? So stop treating me like a fucking child."

"I'll throw in some money," someone interrupts, before Lance can begin yelling in earnest, and Chris spins around. It's Kevin. "I've been a regular here for as long as you have," he says, evenly. "And this is the best damn porn I've seen since. I'm not gonna let you stop producing it."

It's like being hit by a freight train. Chris gapes, and, to his credit, Lance doesn't argue.

"So?" Kevin prompts, eventually. "I know you want my help. Now tell me what you need."

*

It turns out that the kind of help Kevin can provide is above and beyond what they really need. Not that Chris is complaining. They now have a comfortable margin to play with, which means that Lance is less testy, Chris is easier to negotiate with (though not by much) and they can actually afford to hold real auditions for actors with real talent.

It's the first time that Chris sits through an entire session.

"Wow," JC whispers, during the contortionist's performance.

"No shit," Chris whispers back, before he leans in a little closer to AJ. "Stick with the damn delivery boy."

*

They end up casting three girls out of the whole bunch of people who come to audition, mostly because Joey insists it's high time they shoot porn a straight man can enjoy. "If I have to frame up one more gay threesome," he warns, and Chris finally relents, because that kind of sexual pressure can't be easy on anyone.

Christina and Pink have been in the business forever, and Britney's just this side of crazy enough to try anything Chris suggests. She's also the most fucking flexible of the three, and when she spreads herself wider for Pink's fingers, and tips her head back far enough that she can nuzzle her lips over the inside of Christina's thigh, Chris knows they've got their money shot.

*

The lesbian threesome turns out to be one of their most profitable films yet, which Joey is more than happy to assume full credit for. Unfortunately, that just brings out the competitive streak in Chris, which makes it twice as hard to cast the leads for his next porno. "This is a fucking awesome script, okay?" he barks, at anyone brave enough to come for the auditions. "If you're not fucking doing it right, then you're just not fucking doing it right."

He runs through what feels like twenty hundred actors, and no one feels right for the role. "It's prison porn," he complains to JC. "It's like the quintessential pornography premise! How can they not get what I'm looking for?"

He's contemplating throwing in the towel when he stumbles across him. The One. Justin's standing just outside the employee room, hands in his pocket, doing what Chris is pretty sure is his best impression of Blue Steel. The One is standing beside him, sandy-blonde hair, blue eyes, and clearly just as much a jock Justin is. He squares his jaw when Justin nudges him into trying out his own impersonation, and the transformation is instant. He has Nick Nolte fucking beat.

Chris watches, transfixed, as Justin throws back his head dramatically and bursts into song. His acting partner just laughs and goes along with it, and Chris feels his stomach flip. AJ happens to walk by, then, and Chris grabs him. "He's it," Chris announces. "He's fucking perfect. He's the one."

"What?" AJ demands.

"Him!" Chris hisses, as he points out Justin's new reading partner to AJ. "Who the fuck is that? And where's he been all my life?"

AJ's frown vanishes. "That?" he tells Chris. "Is Brian."

Chris gapes as Brian hoists Justin effortlessly onto his back. "Holy shit," he breathes. "How the hell did you talk him into fucking you?"

AJ's grinning now, confidence rolling off him in waves. "Same way I'll talk him into doing your film."

*

It takes more effort to talk Brian into saying 'yes' than AJ expects. Chris agrees to pay him an exorbitant amount of money ("It's not the cash," Brian says.) and to get AJ involved in the shoot ("If you think that'll help," Brian says.) and to use a fake name in the credits ("This probably isn't something my mom wants to see on my résumé," Brian says.) before Brian agrees.

The worst part of it all is that the shoot doesn't start well. AJ talks to Chris before hand to make sure that they start Brian off with something easy. It's pretty conventional, as far as Chris' porn goes, nothing in the room but a small double-decker bed that AJ and Brian can just barely fit into, a tiny sponge-based sink, and a flickering bulb overhead. "Think claustrophobia," Chris instructs. "You're cellmates. Brian, it's your first day in prison, and you've gotta prove that you're not going to be anybody's bitch."

"Uh," Brian says, casting an uncertain glance at AJ. "Okay?"

"So we're going to start with you here, and AJ's going to kiss you--"

*

Half an hour later, they've got nothing. "And cut," Chris sighs, after the fifth take. Brian's still holding back, his shoulders going stiff every time AJ touches him, but only managing to carry that tension all the way through their first kiss before suddenly losing it.

"Sorry," Brian huffs, as he scrubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated.

"It's okay," Chris says, resisting the urge to introduce his forehead to the wall. "You, uh, you're getting better."

AJ raises an eyebrow, and Chris rolls his eyes and subsides.

JC leans in, voice low. "Maybe we should we ask if they want to take five?"

Chris shakes his head, rubbing furiously at his temples. "God, I don't know. We need to finish with this set today, or--"

"Guys!" Joey hisses, abruptly.

Chris looks up. AJ's lying spread-eagle on the bed, one of his hands curled loosely in Brian's hair, the other around Brian's neck, whispering in Brian's ear. Brian's head is tipped forward, almost on AJ's shoulder, his body drawn tight as a bowstring, and Justin's blushing, hard, eyes half-closed like he doesn't know where to look. Chris snatches the headphones off his head just in time to hear AJ say, "yeah, just - last night, remember? Fuck, Brian, just - just like that, jesus," before his voice tapers off into a long, slow groan, so rich Chris feels his spine prickle.

"Fuck," Joey breathes, and Chris's gaze snaps over to the viewfinder. Brian has AJ pinned now, arms above his head, stretched languorously out over the bed so every inch of AJ's skin is covered with his own. Chris chokes a little when he realizes Brian's already moving, fingers clamped over AJ's wrists, fucking him so, so slowly that the bunk barely even moves. Chris shoves the headphones back at Justin, and silently signals for Joey to track to the left.

Even then, even without the headphones, Chris can hear AJ's teeth click.

When he lets out a quiet, "Brian, fuck," it's almost tortured.

"Shh," Brian murmurs, with a glint in his eye, before he leans down, teasing, his lips barely brushing AJ's when he adds, "Someone's gonna hear."

AJ's mouth snaps shut, and the camera picks up every line of strain written on his face. There's complete and utter silence for a second, and even Chris hears AJ exhale when Brian grins, feral, and finally, finally kisses him.

Fuck, yes, Chris thinks. They can so fucking do this.

*

It takes fifteen minutes to wrap up. Brian takes his time, and AJ's not the only one who looks completely worn out by the time Chris calls for a cut. The silence lasts a little longer this time. "Yeah," Chris says, eventually. It comes out a little breathless, and JC coughs. Chris clears his throat. "Yeah, uh. That - that's the main take down."

"How many times do we have to do this?" Brian asks, without looking up. His voice is dangerously quiet. Chris has to pause for a second to get his brain to start working again.

"Uh," Chris says. "A couple. Probably. Maybe - maybe more. For the close ups."

"And we can't switch positions."

Chris swallows. "Uh, no."

"Good," Brian says, with a smile, and Chris can see the way AJ twitches, the way he tries to lift his hips, even from where he's standing.

Joey coughs, then, and Justin's face is still decidedly flushed.

"Hey, C," Chris croaks. "How about we get everyone a bottle of water?"

JC flees without another word.

*

It's barely two days later when Chris walks in on AJ and Justin. More accurately, AJ and Justin tumble out of a trailer in front of him. Together.

Chris balks. For a second he doesn't know where to look. "AJ! Jesus. What did I say about not fucking the talent?"

AJ's mouth quirks, at that. "Well, I gotta be fucking somebody."

"Huh," Justin pipes up. "I think that's the first time you've lumped my name in that category."

Chris glowers. "Don't push your luck, smartass." He turns back to AJ. "Man, I am running out of ways to tell you--"

Then the door to their flimsy, makeshift trailer swings open again, and Chris breaks off mid-tirade as Nick and Brian come out from behind it, wearing identical smirks and looking entirely satisfied. He looks from them to AJ, who's grinning smug and accomplished, and Justin, whose mouth is still glossy with spit and god-only-knows what else. "You know what," Chris says, holding up a hand before anyone thinks to start explaining, "I don't even want to know." He turns and storms back towards the set. "Just make sure your asses are on set in five fucking minutes!"

"Sir, yes sir!" AJ replies. Chris doesn't need to look to know he's tearing off a salute.

"Fucking brats," Chris gripes, under his breath. He pulls a face. "I'm a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. Swear to god, he's going to run us out of staff. Fucking Buddhist monastery couldn't teach him self-restraint--"

"Think there's room for a cameo in this film?" someone says, then, and Chris stops short. It sounds a lot like--

"Cook?" Chris demands. He turns, and Cook's standing right there, onset. He's not alone, and it only takes Chris a second to place the other guy. It's the Idol runner-up.

Cook grins. "Hey, man. I was in the neighborhood."

It's such typical Cook behavior that Chris has to grin back. "Come here, asshole," he laughs, as he tugs Cook into a hug. "Jesus, you look good. How long's it been?"

"You know," Cook says, as he claps Chris on the back, "I haven't been keeping track." He's still grinning as he pulls back. "Let me make the introductions. Chris, this is David Archuleta, the twelve-year-old who nearly kicked my ass on national TV. David, Chris Kirkpatrick, also twelve, and apparently a porn director."

"Hey," Chris says, as he extends a hand. The situation is a little too bizarre for him to feel anything but bemused. "You know, I have no idea what the American public is thinking. You sang circles around this guy."

"Aww, no," David says, as he ducks his head on a laugh. "Cook's awesome. But, um, thank you. It's really nice to meet you. Cook's been all, like, oh, he's so awesome, I can't wait to introduce you, and stuff, so."

"Awesome, huh?" Chris smirks, and Cook rolls his eyes as he slings an arm around David's shoulder.

"Not a word, asshole," he warns. To David, he adds, "We're going to have to stop hanging out if you keep selling me out like this."

"Um, so," David says quickly. "Maybe we could get a tour of the set now?"

Before Chris can reply, Justin comes out onset, tugging at his mesh shirt. "Okay," he says. "I'm ready for my shot, and this thing itches like crazy, so can we--holy shit."

Cook raises a hand in a half-wave. "Hi."

Justin gapes for a second, speechless, before he plucks a pen out of thin air. "Oh my god, can I get an autograph?"

"What's going on?" Nick asks, as he materializes on set. "Hey, isn't that--"

"Yes," Chris sighs. "Yes, it is. And apparently I've been grooming his biggest groupie."

"I voted for you when I was broke," Justin's saying, and Chris groans as Cook shoots him an amused look over Justin's shoulder, clearly stifling a grin.

"Oh, fuck me," Chris mutters, as Nick coughs into his palm.

Then Justin pulls out his phone, leaning in for a "really quick picture, I swear, my mom is gonna flip out," and Nick starts laughing in earnest.

*

"Wait," Justin says. It's half an hour later, and he's been quizzing Cook on Chris' life history for almost half that time. "Wait, so you guys sang? What, like, together? Seriously?"

Cook grins. "That's what I'm saying, man."

Justin looks at Chris, mouth twitching, and when Chris glares he cracks up completely, burying his face in his hands.

Cook seems dangerously close to losing it himself, and David's hiding his smile in his cup of water. Chris scowls. "You," he says to AJ. "Get our shit set up. I'm going to get this man off my set."

Justin's too busy laughing to protest as Chris leads Cook away from the scene. "So," Cook says, laughter still clear in his voice. "Do we still get that tour?"

"You've pretty much seen all of it," Chris admits, as they navigate their way to the store's back room. "But if you pretend Justin never happened, I'll throw in some free porn."

David squirms. "Um," he says.

Cook's smile is almost predatory. "Sounds like a plan."

Five minutes later, they're all set up. The lights have all been switched off, Hips Don't Lie is slotted in the player, and Chris says, "Just press play and you're good to go."

David actually meeps, and Chris makes a hasty exit when Cook laughs. The last thing he hears as he heads back towards the set is David whispering, "Um. Was that her hand in his - oh my gosh. Um, Cook?"

And then there's a burst of Cook's loud, amused laughter. "Yeah, that's her hand on his--"

"Oh," David says. He sounds uncomfortable. "Oh, um. I - I think I may have a, um, a problem. Uh, where's the bathroom? No, wait, oh my gosh, Cook! We're in public!"

"I know," Cook laughs again, lower this time, and then the couch groans in protest. "Have I ever told you I've always wanted to have sex on a movie set?"

*

"Oh my god," Justin says later that night, after they've wrapped up and both the Davids have left. It's the most star-struck Chris has seen him. "Oh my god, I can't believe you know a rock star."

"Yeah, I got that the first seventy hundred times," Chris snaps. "Isn't there inventory you should be taking?"

"Such a ray of sunshine, Kirkpatrick," Justin snarks back, but he rolls his eyes and plants a loud, huge, wet one on Chris' cheek before disappearing into the backroom. Chris makes a huge show of wiping the slobber off his face and glaring after him.

Which is when AJ waltzes back into the store, fresh from his coffee break, and looks from Chris to Justin's back with a smirk. "Jealous isn't a good color on you," he singsongs, as he walks past.

"Suck my dick," Chris sings back.

Asshole never bothers with context.

*

The thing is, Chris isn't expecting Cook's visit to be anything more than just that. But word somehow gets out that David Cook, the newly-crowned American goddamn Idol, spent an entire night camped out at TRANS-PORN, and business goes up threefold. They have to hire a couple of part-timers just to keep up with it all. (Now, Chris isn't pointing any fingers, but Justin really has to learn when to keep his fucking mouth shut.)

They're still churning out porn, almost twice as quickly as they used to, and each time a new release goes up for rent, it's snapped up and put on the most recommended list for weeks. At first, Chris slots the tapes in with the rest of the porn. Lou comments on their increasing profit margin, once or twice, but other than that and a rogue hand on Chris' ass, doesn't seem to notice what's going on. Eventually, they make so many videos that Chris clears out an entire shelf just for them, and when Lou doesn't protest, clears out a second one, too, for future use.

He's just congratulating himself on a job well done when he realizes he's locked himself out of the store. Again. He groans as he drops his forehead against the cool glass doors, then bangs it a couple of times for good measure. Howie's not due in till the next shift, and AJ's not due in at all.

He says as much, once Chris calls him up. "Dude," he mutters. "I'm kind of busy at the moment." His voice goes muffled for a moment, and Chris hears Brian's voice in the background before AJ comes back again. "Call Howie, dammit."

"You think I haven't tried?" Chris hisses. "Brian got you to stop scaring off my goddamn pornstars. Do you really think I want to fuck with that?"

AJ swears under his breath. "You know he's probably screening your calls, right? Sweet D, my ass."

"Okay, that's gonna be one hell of a debate when the time comes, but can we focus on getting me back inside the shop for now?"

"Dammit, Chris," AJ mutters, but Chris can hear a rustling noise, followed by another low murmur from Brian. "This is the last time, I swear to god. Just make yourself another set of fucking keys."

"I'm not authorized to do that," Chris tells him, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Oh for fuck's sake," AJ says, harshly. "You need to get your priorities straight!"

"Yeah, but--"

"Listen," AJ seethes. "You reshuffle our shifts when we have scheduling conflicts, you interview the damn job applicants, you close the store for two hours for a fucking party, and you use company equipment to make your own damn porn, but you're not authorized to do this?"

"I--"

AJ makes a violent noise of protest. "This is practically your store!"

Chris pauses, at that and after a moment, AJ exhales.

"Fucking finally," he mutters, under his breath. A little louder, he adds, "I'm putting in an order for a new set of keys."

*

That is how, two days later, Chris finds himself in possession of a spare key. "It's not a big deal," AJ says, as he hands it over to Chris. "Who's going to know?"

It's true. It's pretty insignificant, as far as things go, but when Chris puts it to the lock for the first time that day, he freezes. He stands there for a moment, fists clenched, heart racing, and thinks, fuck it.

He wants it to be a big damn deal.

It's one of the rare occasions that Lou is actually in his office, and Chris doesn't waste any time waiting for an answer when he knocks on the door. Lou looks up when he enters, completely unruffled, and suddenly Chris' palms are sweating. "What do you want?" Lou asks, as he snaps the folder he's been reading shut. "Make it snappy."

"Mr. Pearlman," Chris says, as he walks the rest of the way in and puts his hands on the edge of Lou's desk. "What do you say to selling me the store?"

"TRANS-PORN?" Pearlman asks. As if he's confused. As if he doesn't know exactly where this is going.

Chris feels his blood begin to heat. "Yes sir," he says. His voice is quiet and steady. "See, I'm willing to make you an offer, 'cause it's all or nothing for me at this point. I can't work for you anymore. I can't work for a shop like this and love it the way I do when it's not mine to love. It just isn't worth it, Mr. Pearlman. So I'm laying my cards on the table. Five thousand dollars for the store. It's all I've got, sir, and then some."

Lou's eyeing him speculatively, and Chris is furious when his first instinct is to shrink back. "And if I say no?"

"Then I walk," Chris replies. There's nothing left for him here except possibility. He tilts his head up, just a fraction.

"And why would that bother me?"

"Because I'm the best damn employee you've got," Chris replies. "I may not know a lot of things, but I do know that. I've been here almost four years now, and I've seen it all. I know the people, I know the porn, I know the business. You can try, but if I leave, you won't turn half the profit we're making now, and everything's just gonna go back to the way it was when the strip club just opened." Chris shakes his head. "I don't want that, sir, and I'm thinking you don't, either."

There's silence for a moment, and Chris' heart is working a mile a minute when Lou finally rubs his chin. "You drive a hard bargain, Kirkpatrick."

Chris nods. He's had years to learn.

Lou watches him with a mild, beady-eyed interest. "And you want this store."

"Yes, sir," Chris repeats, quieter still.

Lou smiles then, leaning back in his seat. "Call it seven and you have yourself a deal, boy."

Chris has never had to think about anything less in his life.

*

The first thing he does is break the news. To Lance. Who stares at Chris for a moment, then says, with laughter threaded thick in his tone, "right, yeah, what the hell does he think he's playing at?"

Chris frowns. He needs to stop listening to the voice in his head that keeps telling him that Lance should be the first person to hear things like this - good things. Lance is a bitch on his best days.

Lance's expression shifts with Chris' silence. "Christopher."

Chris shrugs, without quite looking at him, and Lance groans. "Jesus Christ, Chris. Realtors. They're called realtors. It's not a difficult concept to understand."

"Couldn't wait that long," Chris argues. "You know how I get."

"Yeah," Lance bites back, frustration clear in his tone. "Like a damn bull in a china shop." Chris opens his mouth to protest, but Lance holds up a hand, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Just - there's a reason you told me this first, okay? And it wasn't for a goddamn pom-pom party. So listen to me and don't fucking do it, dumbass. You never read the fine print."

Except Chris does. He fucking reads every last word of the contract, pores over every line - even checks the online dictionary for all the legal jargon he doesn't understand - to see if there's a catch he's missing.

There isn't.

Seven thousand dollars in cash, a pen to the dotted line, and Lou signs the store over to him on a Tuesday.

Lance is not impressed.

Chris buys all of them a round that night to celebrate anyway, and then a couple rounds more. People are catcalling, yelling out best wishes and congratulations, and on his fifth shot he's drunk enough to let Justin crowd him into an empty booth and kiss him dizzy.

"Wait," he mumbles, against Justin's mouth, when it feels like there isn't enough oxygen in the room.

"Please," Justin murmurs, before kissing him even harder, licking into the roof of Chris' mouth like he's trying to prove a point. "Chris, please."

And yeah, okay, Chris thinks breathlessly, he's not going to argue with that.

Justin kisses him like he never wants to be doing anything else, like he means it, and Chris is so caught up in it that he barely even notices when Nick slides into the booth across them, and downs the three shots still sitting on the table in one breath. Justin's only response to the intrusion is a brief pause, and then a tilt of his head for a better angle. Chris moans, and they don't stop again, not even when the rest of the crew turns up a little while later.

Everyone's there but JC, who - AJ informs Chris tartly - begged off sick about five minutes ago.

Chris extricates himself from Justin long enough to crow, "Soup! Someone bring the man a soup!"

Justin just rolls his eyes and grabs for Chris again, tugging him back down. He tastes like beer and cherries and old spice, and Chris is pretty sure that shouldn't taste as good as it does. He thinks that it probably wouldn't, if he wasn't already so drunk he can barely feel his feet. Eventually, Justin lets out a quiet little purr and his mouth drifts downwards, over the hollow of Chris' throat. Chris tips his head to the side with what AJ will swear in later years is a giggle, and, as Justin breathes out warm against his skin, promptly falls asleep.

*

When Chris wakes up, the clock reads 9:04. He's alone. His mouth tastes like ass and he feels like his head is about to explode.

It's still the best fucking morning of his life.

*

Unfortunately, as we've all learned, happy doesn't last forever.

*

Chris arrives at the store half an hour late, bleary-eyed. Still, he stops for a second in the parking lot, just to look the store over, taking it all in. The keys are a warm, solid weight in his hand, and his pulse stutters. If this were a movie, there'd be a goddamn montage right now, detailing every significant moment he's spent in this place. It's a little like falling in love.

Then he gets a little closer, and he sees a couple of suits clustered around the shop front. He stops cold, his stomach suddenly in knots. "Mr. Kirkpatrick?" they say. "May we have a minute?"

Chris looks at them, from their perfectly pressed shirts, to their matching blazers and their shiny new shoes, and doubles over to throw up.

They seal up the store, and he's issued a letter of eviction by the end of the morning shift.

Comments

[bubbleforest.livejournal.com]

So JUSTIN shows up (I love how you're introducing the characters, giving them a little build-up each time - like, they need a co-worker, they can't find one, Justin shows up and is perfect!) OMG, and then he's a complete Chris fanboy and they end up with that FRIENDSHIP, and I love when AUs have traces of canon in them, I love it SO MUCH. You handled that so well.

(AND HOW EXCITED DID I GET AT THE FIRST MENTION OF PIZZA DELIVERY? BE GLAD YOU DIDN'T SEE ME GRIN LIKE A COMPLETE IDIOT.)

Oh man, I REALLY loved this line btw:

Justin drops his head on Chris' shoulder. "Like an old married couple," he says, in a stage-whisper. His hair tickles Chris' cheek, and his hand is warm on Chris' thigh when Chris grins.

Because it's SO, like, friendly, but then there's a total undertone to it. There's TOTALLY something brewing there, and I love how you establish that right away. (As well as things like JC NOT WANTING to do porn with Chris around, and walking out of the room when Justin and Chris get it on. ♥ CHRISTOPHER, HOW SO BLIND?)

And DAVID COOK. AHAHAHAHA, NAT. Man, I got nothing. Of course Justin is a total fanboy, and OF COURSE Cook ends up saving the day. You are too cute. ♥ ♥

Dude, your characters, okay. I love that you can feel Lance's and Chris' history with each other, how they're communicating without words right from the beginning, and how Lance can TELL Chris all those things he doesn't want to hear. THIS LINE TOTALLY KILLED ME BTW: He needs to stop listening to the voice in his head that keeps telling him that Lance should be the first person to hear things like this - good things. Lance is a bitch on his best days. AHAHAHHAHA SO TRUUUUUUE AND I LOVE IT.

(AND THEN THERE'S ALSO THE BRIAN/AJ, OKAY? WHICH YOU KNOW REDUCED ME TO A DROOLING MESS. OMG PRISON AU AJ/BRIAN, I NEED A SPIN-OFF MORE THAN OXYGEN, NATALIE. OMG Brian being all 'it's not about the money' KILLED ME so hard. God, your Brian. ♥ ♥)

Oh my God, and then - THEN. CHRIS, with his huge fucking balls, goes and BUYS the store. I will get into your Chris in the next part, but omg, he's putting everything on the line, all his money and he's so nervous but he's doing it anyway. And then the WHOLE THING breaks down on him. GOD, NAT, YOU ARE TOO CRUELLY BRILLIANT. EXCEPT STRIKE OUT THAT BRILLIANT AND JUST GO WITH CRUEL. EXCEPT STRIKE OUT THAT CRUEL AND JUST GO WITH BRILLIANT.

[inahurricane.livejournal.com]

OKAY HI, STARTING MY COMMENT IN CAPS BECAUSE LMFAO JUSTIIIIIIIIIIIN!!!! All cute and should be applying to the Gap, but no he is applying to the porn store! And he loves Chris lmfaoo. And he's just like...a little puppy that everyone cheers up at the sight of.

AND PIZZA DELIVERY BOY BRIAN <333333 Having prison sex with AJ! ;aldkjfa;ldkgj and dude I love that AJ's always having sex with someone. I just love it. Like, I...love it.

Nat, I'm liking this a lot more than I thought I would, especially the main character being Chris and there being a lot of nsync-ness. You're a thing of awesome. And I hope you'll forgive me for not commenting on everything I want to comment on.

[epicflailer.livejournal.com]

omg KRISS. KRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISS. I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WENT ON TO READ THIS. just - you are so good to me, omg, idek! you're reading sync! and YOU WENT CAPSLOCK ON JUSTIN. I LOVE IT. I LOVE YOU. *FLAIL* there is nothing to forgive, bb! NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT.