For cjmarlowe: JC/Chris. "Talking is just masturbating / Without the mess / Addiction leaves you sad today / & unimpressed."

JC picks up the t-shirt that's hanging over the lamp and folds it, neatly, before setting it on the bedside table. He doesn't know why he bothers, because first of all it's not like it's clean and second of all it's probably the only folded piece of clothing in the room, but he feels as though by doing it he's making some kind of stand against the chaos that is Chris's bedroom, and it makes him feel a little bit better. "Chris," he says, and when there's no response, repeats it a little more sharply. "Chris."

The lump in the bed shifts. JC yanks open the curtains, and he winces at the sudden stab of sunlight through his eyes; he doesn't want to think about what it must be doing to Chris. Chris makes a little whimpering indistinct noise and pulls the pillow over his head. JC almost feels sorry for him for a minute, but the minute passes. "Come on, Chris. When I'm awake before you are, it's time to get your ass out of bed and get moving. I've got coffee downstairs."

"Go away," Chris mutters. "Don't need a rescue mission."

"Well, Johnny sent me over here to get you out of bed and moving before the reporters beat down your doorstep," JC says, as brightly as he can. "After those pictures of you last night hit the wire services, we're going to have a lot of explaining to do. What were you thinking, man?"

"Wasn't," Chris mumbles into the pillow. "Shut the blinds. Light bad. Hangover."

"Again," JC agrees. "We gotta talk about that, man. Something's bugging you. You don't normally hit the bottle like this."

"If I wanted to talk about my problems in endless depth, I'd be Justin."

JC sits on the side of the bed and calmly but firmly pulls the pillow away from Chris. Chris holds onto it as tightly as he can, but JC is more awake and sitting up and not hung over, so he wins. Chris blinks in the sunlight and makes another unhappy noise, and JC tries not to let it get to him. "Seriously, man. Something's up. You gotta tell one of us. Even if it's not me, you gotta tell one of us."

Chris squints against the light and sits up, gingerly. His shoulder brushes against JC's chest, and he jerks back like he's been burned and doesn't meet JC's eyes. "It's nothing," he says. "I'll get over it. Just gimme some time."

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