randomling | Smells Like Boybander

Inspired by the following conversation. One of those things that just had to be written.

Summary: JC has a Carter-shaped secret.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF.
Also: Unbeta'd.

For

llamabitchyo.

Smells Like Boybander

JC's hotel room smells like Nick.

It should do, after last night. It's not often they get to see each other, with their mutually hectic and mostly-incompatible schedules, and the whole straight-in-public thing makes it harder still. It's not that JC doesn't trust the guys, but not a one of them can tell a lie. Not to each other, anyway. And once it's common knowledge in the band, someone's bound to overhear them gossipping, some roadie or waitress or hotel maid, and after that the whole *Nsync thing will go sky-high.

That's what Nick says, anyway.

So it's morning, and Nick's long gone. JC's still in bed, curled around the sheets that smell of Nick's sweat, remembering the previous night and starting to think about jerking off to the memory. It was hot, all urgent passion and baby-baby; they hadn't done this in the longest time. They won't get to again for a while, either, so JC's got to get his fun where he can, and mostly that means his right and a bottle of hand cream and the pictures behind his eyes.

JC's hand is sliding down over his belly when the door slams open.

Fuck. How did he forget that his room has a connecting door with Chris's? That could have been really, really embarrassing last night, but they'd been too feverish to notice, and Chris had probably been busy himself. Plenty of cute girls in the club to entertain him. JC sits up and places one hand on either side of him on the bed, palms down on the rumpled sheets.

"Rise and shine," Chris yells. His voice is artifically happy and bright and it makes JC's head ache.

"What the fuck, man?" JC's proud to have gotten those words out at an appropriate volume and in the right order. He's not feeling at his best.

"It's morning, and in case you've forgotten, we have a tour bus to catch." Chris stops to sniff the air. "And open a damn window, it smells like Nick Carter's sweat in here."

JC blinks. Before he can muster up a response, Chris has crossed the room, opened the curtains to let in blinding morning light, pushed open a window, and left again. JC's left alone in the room, rubbing his forehead and wondering what in the hell just happened.

***

They don't actually have to be on the tour bus until noon, so JC takes a very long shower and orders room service. When he gets out of the shower - thankfully he's wrapped a towel around his waist, he wouldn't always, in his own supposedly private hotel room - Lance and Justin are sitting on the bed.

"What?" JC says. "I'm gonna make the bus."

"We know," Lance says. He's always referring to himself and Justin as 'we' recently; they go through this joined-at-the-hip phase every once in a while, and it's cute, right up until they have some stupid fight and stop talking for ten days. Then it's back to the regular pattern, Chris-and-Justin, Lance-and-Joey, and all's right with the world.

"You disappeared pretty early last night," Justin says, and JC sighs because they're at the point where they've started finishing each other's thoughts. It's like Village of the Damned or something.

"Where'd you go?"

"I picked up," JC says irritably, crossing the room to his suitcase and letting the towel hit the floor. If Justin and Lance really want to look at his ass, they can.

"Huh. That's weird. 'Cause it really smells like Nick in here."

JC turns sharply to look at Lance, giving them both more of an eyeful than he really intends. Neither of them flinches or looks away.

Lance grins. Justin sniffs the air thoughtfully, gives JC a shocked and reproachful look, and leaves the room.

***

After he's gotten rid of Lance, JC jams a chair under the handle of the connecting door and dresses. Then he calls Joey's room and invites him up to share the breakfast that, he freely admits, he sort of over-ordered. Joey cheerfully agrees and is knocking on the main door two minutes later, the one that JC can lock. It's an important difference.

They share bacon and eggs and croissants and lots of coffee. Thankfully room service thought to send up two sets of crockery and cutlery - it would be damn weird trying to drink from the same coffee cup. JC tried it with Nick once, back in Germany when Nick was only seventeen and JC didn't want anyone to know they were sharing a single bed.

Years ago, now.

"What's that smell?" Joey asks over his mug of coffee when he's been in the room ten minutes.

JC tries to look nonchalant. "Hm?"

"So weird," Joey says, wearing his patented 'thoughtful' face. All of Joey's facial expressions are sort of theatrical: this time of the morning, that kind of gets annoying. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear to God you'd been getting sweaty with Nick Carter."

JC stares at Joey in horror for so long that Joey finally catches on and starts to laugh.

The *Nsync thing is so going sky-high. Because when he gets down to the lobby, JC is going to murder each and every one of his bandmates.

After which, he is totally breaking up with Nick.