By Trixie

Chris says goodnight to Mike and tosses his coat on a chair in his hotel room after the door clicks shut behind him. He pulls off his boots and sweatshirt, losing his hat in the process, before going in to wash his face. He drops his jeans in the bathroom, trading them for the soft sweats he'd discarded there this morning. He'd left Nelly's post-Jingle Ball party because he was tired, but now he's wide awake so he grabs a beer out of the mini-bar and pulls a DVD out of his bag.

It was a good party, but Lance was off with Joey and Justin had taken a pain pill after performing and then had a beer, and he was out like a light by midnight. He'd passed out on Nelly's bed, but Chris is pretty sure that doesn't mean anything. If it does, he's sure he will hear about it in detail tomorrow. Last he'd seen JC at the party, he was surrounded by Tara, Carlos, and a couple of the Lunatics.

He sinks into the deep cushions of the suite's couch and settles in as the movie starts.

"I owe everything to George Bailey."

It's a Wonderful Life is his favorite Christmas movie, even if he only admits that fact to a few people. He hated it when he was a little kid, but two years ago, he sat up in a hotel room with the other guys and watched it. They'd all fallen asleep, exhausted from a full week of appearances and concerts, but he'd stayed awake and cried like a baby at the end. Not that he will admit that either.

When George and Mary are doing the Charleston, someone raps out the beat of Air Force Oneson his door. He doesn't feel like company, but Justin is unlikely to go away if he ignores him, so he hits mute and pulls himself off the couch.

There's no one in front of the peephole, so he opens the door just enough to poke his head out and look. He's surprised to find JC leaning up against the wall.

"Thought you were J," he says, and opens the door wider.

"Sorry to disappoint," JC answers and pushes off the wall.

"Nah," Chris says with a grin and steps back, letting JC in, "just," he waves his hand at the door, "the tune. Don't really expect Nelly from you."

JC just shrugs and follows him in. "Damn song's stuck in my brain."

"It's a catchy song."

"Dude, it's a song about sneakers."

"Yeah, and Space Cowboy's about the human spirit," Chris says and flops down onto the couch, grinning up at JC.

"Fuck off."

But JC laughs, as Chris knew he would, because he's pretty much impervious to jokes about his songs these days. And he knows that Chris loves the song. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it on a chair before collapsing on the couch next to Chris, then stretching out with his head in Chris's lap. "So. Hey, little man, what's up? You snuck out on me."

"I didn't sneak out. Hard to sneak anywhere with Big Mike at my back. I just got tired and left."

"And yet, you are not in bed."

"Felt like a movie."

JC turns his head to look at the muted tv screen, where half the kids in the gym are jumping into the pool. "Ooh. I love this movie."

"Best Christmas movie ever," Chris says and unmutes the tv in time for Buffalo Gals.

"Totally, man." JC turns over and gets comfortable, toeing off his shoes and singing along with George and Mary. After they laugh at Mary hiding in the bushes, JC suddenly moves, stuffing a hand down into his jeans pocket. "Almost forgot. I brought party favors." He pulls out a baggie, which has several joints in it.

"You, my friend, are a peach."

"Nope," JC shakes his head, his hair rubbing against Chris's sweats. "It's just, my momma taught me never to show up empty-handed," he says in his very bad Lance impression.

Half an hour later, George is yelling at Mr. Potter, and Chris is trying to decide whether to rip open the Doritos or the pretzels from the mini-bar. JC is lying on the floor in front of the couch, eating the last of the little Oreos package.

"Dude," JC says, grabbing at Chris's ankle. "You know, everything would be averted if George would just go kung-fu on Potter's ass right here."

Chris stares at JC for a second and then looks at the TV screen where Potter's staring George down smugly, and he cracks up. Completely cracks up. The image alone is the funniest thing ever.

"I'm serious, Chris."

And of course he is, because he's always dead serious when he has bizarre ideas while high. It's why they all love to smoke up with him.

"No, no," Chris says through his laughter, "you're right. They need to do an all martial arts version."

"Yes! It's a Wonderful Kung-fu Life! Dude, that would be awesome."

"Harry's not a pilot, he's a ninja. And Clarence is really a three-hundred year old Shaolin monk."

"I wanna see Mary take on the little bank examiner guy," JC says and mimes a few moves from his prone position. He looks like a complete dork, but Chris kind of likes that.

"Okay, Donna Reed doing kung-fu would be hot in a really weird and twisted way."

At that, JC starts giggling, and Chris knows that when he's like this it'll be another five minutes before he can stop. He pokes a toe in JC's side, making him giggle harder, and laughs along with him. It's definitely among Chris's top five favorite sounds in the whole world.

When JC finally settles down, he crawls up onto the couch and steals the pretzels before plopping his head down on Chris's lap again. He grins up at Chris, his eyes turning to slits in his face, then turns his attention back to the movie. It occurs to Chris to wonder why JC is here at all tonight.

"Where's the posse?" he asks, twirling a curl around his finger. He hasn't told JC, but he really likes the long, scruffy hair. A lot.

"What?"

"Tara? I was starting to think you guys had been surgically attached."

JC shrugs. "She was still partying when I left."

"So come on, seriously? You're not fucking her?"

"No! Shit man, I swear. She's my buddy. She's wicked fun, dude. I like hanging with her. But no."

"Carlos?"

JC shakes his head, and picks at the knee of Chris's sweats. "Not anymore. I like him a lot, but he's just not the guy I want. I'm not sure, but I think he's sleeping with Dallas now."

"And you're cool with that?"

"Sure, why not? They're my buds. I'm all for them getting laid, even if I'm not."

"You're not? At all?" Chris blinks, because JC really, really likes sex.

"Nah. I'm waiting for someone."

"Who?"

"Can't tell." JC grins and gets up. "You want a beer?"

"No, but I'll take a water. What do you mean you can't tell? You make a fuckin' birthday wish or something? You have a secret love?"

"Something like that." He hands Chris a bottled water and resumes his previous position, returning his attention to the movie. "I love this part," he says, clearly dismissing the conversation. On screen, George is trying to find someone, in what is now Potterville, who knows him.

"You ever think about that?" Chris asks, sinking a hand into JC's hair and petting him because he knows JC loves it.

"What? Like, if I'd never been born?"

"Yeah, but more like... if you had a different life? No MMC, no *NSYNC."

JC shrugs as best as he can against Chris's leg. "Sure. I think about college sometimes. What it would have been like. Living in crappy dorm rooms, or maybe I would have joined a fraternity, you know? Keg parties and stuff. And cool classes like Primitive Asian Art or 19th Century French Literature."

Chris raises an eyebrow at that and JC just grins. "Some of Tyler's classes," he says by way of explanation.

"You could learn that stuff if you wanted. And you've had the parties, just with better beer. So what's the difference, really?"

"No cameras. No bodyguards"

"Point," Chris concedes with a nod. On screen, George is on the bridge, pleading with Clarence to put things back the way they were.

"But, I don't regret a minute of it, Chris. I fucking love my life."

"Yeah?" Chris asks, but looks back at the TV before he gets an answer. George is running through Bedford Falls, rejoicing in his life and his town, and ultimately his family.

He knows what's coming. He's seen the movie about fifteen times. But from the moment Mary bursts into the house looking for George to the moment the bell on the Christmas tree rings, Chris is spellbound. He used to hate this part, because his experience taught him that no matter how good of a person you might be, people did not go out of their way to help you. But the year he'd sat in a hotel room and watched the movie, Lance was snoring next to him and Justin and JC were both curled into Joey's sides. He'd looked around at them and known that he had people, other than his mother and sisters, who would show up and give him the shirt off their backs if he needed it. And now, every fucking time he watches the movie, he cries.

He can't help sniffing and JC looks up at him and his eyes are a little watery, but mostly he's just smiling at Chris.

"Not a fucking word," Chris growls and wipes at his face.

JC just smiles bigger and reaches up to wipe the tears off Chris's jaw. "It's a beautiful thing."

"Whatever." Because now he just feels embarrassed. "If you tell anyone, I'll be forced to hurt you really badly."

"Dude, Justin cries at every chick flick ever made, and Joey cried like a baby when he saw his dad on that VH1 thing. And okay, Lance hasn't cried in front of anyone in a few years, but that's not the point. We figured out that you're a big old sap about seven years ago."

"Am not," Chris says and pushes JC up so he can get off the couch. JC just snorts and sprawls out on the couch. So he's embarrassed, but he's also grinning while he pulls out the DVD and puts it away.

"So Lance seems good, doesn't he?" JC asks. "I mean, I know he says he's going in April, but..."

"Kid's a tough little fuck," Chris says fondly. "There's always a new crazy scheme for him."

"And Joey, he's like... Big Broadway Star," he says, holding his hands up in the air in what Chris figures is supposed to indicate a marquee. "And Superdad."

"Yeah," Chris says, wondering where this is going. JC is clearly leading up to something.

"And Justin. Well, he's doing exactly what we always knew he'd do."

"Being a star. And being happy, which I wasn't always sure of." And Chris grins, because he loves Justin and he knows Justin, but every single day the kid manages to amaze him a little more.

"We raised our babies good, didn't we?" JC puts a hand to his chest dramatically, making Chris laugh. He suddenly sits up and pins Chris with a serious look. "What about you, Chris? You asked me, but you didn't say... do you ever think about a different life? Any regrets?"

"No." And it's the easiest answer ever, because it's completely true. Of course he thinks about a different life. He knows how incredibly fucking lucky he is to be where he is, and he knows exactly what other kind of life he could have had. So there's no way he could ever regret a single thing. Not even Lou or Dani. "Not a single fucking regret, C. Never. I am exactly where I want to be."

"Really?" JC asks, standing up.

"Absolutely. Well... except for maybe a few fashion choices. Those I regret." He snorts and waves his hand at JC. "But look who I'm talking to."

"I don't regret a single outfit," JC says with an almost straight face, and then suddenly he's in Chris's personal space, putting his hands on Chris shoulders and pushing him up against the TV cabinet. And Chris starts to think that maybe something's happening here. Something different.

Something very, very cool.

"Um...C?" he says, and then he can't say anything else because JC's kissing him. And oh hey. Hey now. He thinks maybe his brain is broken.

"Hey," he says when JC pulls away and steps back.

"So. Yeah... there's my big..." He waves his hands around in his usual can't-find-the-word way and looks at everything but Chris. "Whatever."

"Your secret love?" Chris asks, grinning. Because... wow. It's the last thing he expected tonight, and the best early Christmas present he could possibly get.

JC breaks out into a face-splitting grin and looks up. "Yes. Exactly."

Chris lets out a whoop and launches himself at JC, knocking them both down and kissing JC back before he can catch his breath. When they pull apart, they're both panting and laughing.

"I think you broke a rib, man," JC gasps through his laughter.

"You big dork," Chris says, smacking JC's chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

JC shrugs. "I was going to after the tour, but you had big plans to hit the road, see America, find yourself. I didn't want to interfere with that."

"C, the only thing I did on my big RV trip was smoke a lot of pot, write some songs with Ron, and miss the fuck out of you guys."

"Oh," JC says, and then wraps his hand around Chris's neck and pulls him down. "Good," he says, just before kissing him again, this time more gently and more intently. He snakes a hand down into Chris's sweatpants and squeezes his ass, making Chris squeak and remember just exactly why he's always wanted to find out what sex with JC is like.

Much later, JC is snoring into the pillow next to Chris, but Chris is way too buzzed on good sex and sheer happiness to sleep. He crawls out from under JC carefully and pulls his sweats on again. His suite has a fantastic view, Central Park stretched out and dark in one direction and Manhattan bright and glittering in the other. He puts a hand up on the cold window and feels, for a moment, like he owns it all. Like he can have anything down there that he wants, even if he doesn't really want anything that's not inside this suite.

"To Chris Kirkpatrick," he whispers, "the richest man in Manhattan." Then he grins at his reflection in the glass, because yes, he really is a big old sap.

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