Work Text:
Chris is not sure how he ended up with not one, but two younger lovers. Gorgeous, talented, international-pop-sensation younger lovers. He thinks it's pretty fucking unbelievable. The whole popstar thing is weird enough. This— This just blows him away.
He doesn't think about it, most of the time, for just that reason. He just goes on, lives his life, poking fun of Justin and trash-talking with Nick and hanging out. It's fun and relatively stress-free and they have incredible sex. Mind-blowing sex. Can't-remember-my-name-afterwards sex. And it all seems to work. He's lived long enough to have learned that if it's not broke it doesn't need fixing. So he doesn't feel any need to talk about what's going on. He tells them he loves them, he screams and moans during sex, and laughs with them outside of bed. Deep philosophical discussions about life and the universe at 3 am, yes. Explaining his relationship to himself and others, no. So he's getting pretty fed up with Justin's attempts to get in touch with everyone's feelings.
He's not certain he even knows what Justin's problem is. Chris has told him that he loves him. Nick has too, and that's a pretty big step. In fact, he thinks Justin has no idea how much of an effort Nick's making. He's been watching the two of them carefully. And Nick's come a long way, though he still baits Justin sometimes. But Justin's by far the worst with shit like that. And it's starting to piss him off.
Likewise, Justin's "tell me what you're thinking" crap is annoying as hell. Usually he's thinking about sex. He's a guy, dammit. Sometimes he's thinking about work or his family or FuMan or cherry tomatoes. And what he thinks about them is his business, not Justin's.
He's not sure why Justin's going so nuts about that, except maybe Brit left him with more than just a liking for dick. He's about ready to call and verbally kick her ass about turning his boyfriend into a girl.
Nick slumps down beside him on the couch, leaning into him a little, and sighs. Chris thinks he just got off the phone with some member of the Carter family, and he knows he's got to do something. His hand slips to Nick's thigh, rubs against it over the slippery material of his track pants. Nick's head tilts back, and he makes a soft sound, almost like a purr.
"Justin's a girl," says Chris, hand petting steadily.
"He is." Nick slides down, spreading his legs a little.
"He always wants to talk about his fucking feelings."
"He should learn to repress like a real man."
"Damn straight." Chris grins at Nick's moan, lets his hand slip up further, teasing. "He's being a total bitch lately."
"Mmmmmm... Yeah... yeah, he is."
"And you, kid, are a real man. All those repressed feelings—"
"Ahhhhhhhhh..."
Chris hands creep higher. "You deserve a reward."
"Fuck yeah."
And Chris is on his knees, slipping the track pants over Nick's hips, grasping him and tugging. At Nick's groan, he laughs a little, lets Nick's hands grasp at his hair and pull him down. When he licks up Nick's cock, sucking at the head, Nick gets louder and then he's swallowing him down, sucking and licking. He makes it good, makes it last, and when Nick finally comes down throat, he's ready to get his own reward. He doesn't wait for Nick to recover, just crawls up him and tugs until Nick's where he wants him. When Nick's hand joins his own, it takes only a few steady pulls for him to come as well.
After, they lay cuddled on the couch. It's Nick who breaks the silence, voice slow and deliberate. "He's afraid you're going to decide this isn't worth it and leave."
Chris is silent.
Nick lets his hands settle, one cradling Chris' head, the other on the small of his back. "You're afraid he's going to decide this is just a phase."
Chris had tensed, and Nick, expecting it, rubs circles on his back and kneads his scalp. "Is it worth it?"
"What are you afraid of?" Chris is angry, defensive.
Nick is silent for a long time. His hands keep moving on Chris, though, who's starting to settle a little, against his will.
"Leslie called. She needs space, so she's coming to visit for the long weekend."
Chris knows what that means. "You're going home for the weekend."
"Yeah."
Nick's voice is flat. Chris wonders how much that has to do with what's been happening lately and how much it has to do with his family. Instead he asks, "No visiting?"
"I'll call you," answers Nick after another pause.
"You give up on me Carter..." Chris tries to make the threat joking, but knows he didn't succeed.
"Repress, repress, repress."
Nick's voice is flat again, and Chris is pissed for real. He rolls away from Nick's now-slack hands and stands. Tugs clothing into place and then, "When do you have to be home?" Clipped, short.
Nick stretches, giving him a good view, then moves easily to stand, pulling his pants back up. "I need to pack some clothes and shit, then I've gotta take off. My house needs cleaning."
Probably not a complete lie. Chris is still angry, wants to yell and break shit.
Justin walks into this, to tension hanging in the air, thick on his skin. Nick coming downstairs carrying clothing makes his eyes widen and his expression— Chris needs to leave before he says something stupid.
"Going for a ride." And he's out the door, catching up his helmet, revving his bike.
Back in the house, Nick cuts Justin off before he can say anything. "Leslie's coming down tomorrow, I need to clean my house."
"You had a fight." And Nick is sick of hearing that accusing tone.
"Yeah. We did. Couples fight, Justin. It doesn't mean they break up. It doesn't mean one leaves the other and his bastard boyfriend, too. It isn't even always about you, Justin."
He starts for the door, but Justin steps to intercept him. "It was this time, though, right?"
And Nick's angry enough to walk right into Justin's personal space, to use those few inches of height advantage to loom a bit and say, "Yeah, Justin. This time it was. And it was about me and Chris and our relationship."
It's mean and petty, but he feels good when Justin winces. His first instinct is to follow his advantage, but he thinks twice, reins in, then steps neatly out of Justin's path and heads to his car. Justin follows, but stays silent. Finally, right before Nick slams the driver-side door shut, Justin catches it, asking, "Do you always run when you have a fight?"
The question seems sincere, not snarky, and Nick looks down into Justin's eyes. "No." He pauses, considers, and then says, "He'll listen if you talk about you. Or me. He might even talk about himself." Then he shuts the door, backs out of the drive, leaving Justin, thoughtful, behind.