Motion Pictures
by northern

Part of the Don We Now Our Gay Apparel project. For Aynatonal.
Thank you to Kim Gasper for beta.

JC leaned forward, putting his head into his hands on the bar. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting here, but he was feeling nicely mellow, so he was going with it. No one was bothering him. The bartender kept bringing him drinks with Midori in them. He liked that, but he’d had so many now that the taste in his mouth was more sharp and bitter than light and fresh. He blew on the surface of his drink to make little waves and looked at the green liquid moving in his glass. He wondered briefly if the same tint could be achieved with Absinthe.

It wasn’t a big bar. The music wasn’t loud and blended well with the conversations of the guests, making a soothing background to his own thoughts. They went swirling right out there, bleeding in and out of his head freely. Or at least it felt like it. It didn’t matter. It felt good.

People didn’t usually crowd him here, so he was a bit surprised when someone slung a heavy arm over his shoulders, causing him to overturn his drink. He mournfully watched the green river running over the counter top and down the other side while the sound of the glass hitting the glossy wood rang belatedly in his ears. He blinked and turned his head, making his eyes leave the shiny wet trail on the bar top.

Nick Carter was plastered to his side, breathing heavily into his ear. JC blinked again and breathed.

Nick Carter smelled of beer, and was plastered to his side, breathing heavily into his ear.

JC tried to collect a few of his swirling thoughts – they looked tangerine and pale yellow, swimming in front of his eyes. He slid half off of his stool when he was pulled abruptly by the hand on his shoulder to be squashed even more tightly against Nick.

“Heyyyyy, Chasez...”

Nick’s voice sounded rough. Almost like he’d been smoking too much. Why was Nick smoking? JC never smoked. Only sometimes.

He tucked his face in under Nick’s jaw and inhaled to check. That almost made him fall, since Nick let his arm slide away from his shoulders and down his back. JC clutched Nick’s shirtfront and smelled sweat and cologne and beer. No smoke. The cologne smelled like the Midori was supposed to taste, though. Clear and watery.

“What are you doing?”

Nick shoved him away and he ended up with his cheek pressed against the counter, his hand sliding through wetness. The green would seep into him now and mix with the red behind his eyelids. That was good. He needed to be cooler. Calmer. More accepting. Nick pulled him upright again.

“Too many drinks for you?”

Nick was talking beer into his face. He wasn’t all that fond of beer. It turned stale so fast and felt prickly on his tongue in a way soda didn’t.

“What are you doing here, all by yourself? Couldn’t get anyone to baby-sit you, hunh?”

Nick looked like he was bleeding. Like a wet painting, almost transparent in patches, the background showing through clearly. JC wiped his cheek thoughtfully, looking. Nick hadn’t smelled like paint. Maybe he could get the Midori bottle and a paintbrush and even out the differences. Midori paint probably didn’t taste as bad as regular.

“Are you ticklish on your back?” he asked Nick.

“What?” Nick said, raising his eyebrows.

JC smiled. Nick looked funny like that. His eyebrows looked like they were reaching for his hair, but they’d never make it, not when his hair was all spiked up like that. He lifted a hand to try and pull some hair down. Nick’s eyebrows were probably very frustrated. His hand was caught and Nick held it away from his face.

“What’s with you? Are you on something? Here?”

Nick turned his head this way and that, his hair hardly moving at all, before he grabbed JC’s arm and yanked him away from the bar. Nick’s hand felt hot against his skin on the way to the other side of the room. The people danced in a slow ponderous circle around them. JC felt like he was swirling freer than ever, only attached to the world by Nick’s hand.

They connected with a wall and JC found himself pleasantly pushed up against it by most of Nick’s body. There was a big firm thigh pressing between his legs. He smiled and rested his head against the wall behind him, eyes half-closing. Nick looked intent. It was a good look for him. JC languidly lifted a hand and put it behind Nick’s head, tugging carefully on his short hair. Nick opened his mouth and JC pulled their heads together.

Nick had good lips. Good for kissing, good for dragging your face against, good for licking at. JC loved kissing and Nick probably did, too. The world spun, and suddenly there were no lips, no heat against him. Only Nick’s hands holding him by his shoulders.

“You’re really really high. I so get why you need babysitting. Oh god.”

Nick licked his lips and rubbed them against his sleeve. There was heat leaking out of his eyes in small, forked flashes, slow and insistent. JC wondered if he would be able to feel it on his face when they kissed again. He stretched and arched against the thigh still so accommodatingly pressing him against the wall. Nick should let him sink to his knees now, so he could fill his mouth with heat. Then he’d kiss Nick again and feel the dying flames tickle his eyelashes. He very much wanted to kiss Nick again.

But Nick spun him around. Everything Nick did was too quick for JC to follow. Now they were walking, Nick’s arm unyielding around his waist, past the bar again, out through the doors to a car. It wasn’t his car, but that was not very important. He changed cars all of the time. It was like blinking and discovering that you were somewhere else entirely. It didn’t matter.

Nick opened the door for him and pushed him inside. Pulled him upright when all he could smell was sticky, clingy leather. The door slammed many times, in different frequencies. It sounded funny.

It was dark now. Nick was sitting over there with his beautiful lips, still bleeding quietly in yellows and greens, but muted now. No lightning.

“I know where Chris lives. I’ll drop you off there.”

JC listened to the hum of wheels on road and watched the red thoughts dart here and there behind his eyelids. Nick wasn’t real. He wasn’t either. As long as he remembered that, everything was fine.