For eponymous: "Justin / Nick, and, hm. Maybe that moment before their solo albums came out and all sorts of possibilities existed?"

"John Denver covers."

Nick blinked a few times, and then snickered. "My mother would kill me." Justin pulled one of his legs over both of Nick's, tucking his toes in the back of Nick's knee. Nick yelped and pulled back. "Dude, you. Feet. Cold."

"Me, feet, always cold, everyone in both our groups has made the same lame stupid joke about it and our relationship by now, it isn't like this is news, and hello? Since when has freaking out your mother been a bad thing? Come on, your turn."

Nick dragged a hand over Justin's head automatically. He liked the shaved head. He knew exactly why Justin had done it, too. He'd do something like it himself, except that if he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't pretty enough to deliberately go out of his way to de-prettify himself; at least, not where anyone could see. "Hmm," he said, thoughtfully, and then it hit him. "Guitar-hugging, unshaved-armpit, granola-eating lesbian save-the-whales eco-folk."

Justin pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Nick, and then burst out laughing. "Man, I'd do that just to see Chris's face. Can you imagine? He'd blame himself for too much Indigo Girls played in the bus when I was at an impressionable age."

"Fly, lesbian seagull," Nick crooned, and Justin cracked up again. "All right, all right. Seriously. What sort of stuff are you going to put on yours?"

They were used to sudden shifts of mood, silly back to serious and vice versa. Justin flopped back on the bed and idly walked his fingers up Nick's bicep. "I've got some stuff. Stuff you can dance to, mostly. Might put the one about Brit on there, depends on how much I feel like explaining to the press. What about you?"

"A little bit of everything," Nick said. "I think I'm most looking forward to the chance to finally make my own rules."

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