OK, normally I don’t do song-fic. But rules are made to be broken.

This would take place very early on in the Jamesanjosh (TM) relationship....

DENIAL

It was the crash that caused Justin to start pounding on C’s door.

‘WHAT?’ The Cæsar-haired young tenor had flung his bedroom door open and stood glaring at his mop-topped friend.

‘“What” yourself, man. The heck just happened here?’

‘Knocked over a lamp,’ Chasez muttered, hanging his head.

‘Mom’s gonna be P.O.-ed,’ Justin mused.

‘It was my lamp. From home. Accidents happen, OK?’

‘No need to get that way with me, Jayce. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't hurt yourself.’

JC sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Naw. I’ll ... pick up the pieces. I ain’t hurtin’.’

Yeah right. Justin left, shaking his head. He loved C like he was the older brother he’d never had, it was great having him stay there ... but man was this a pisser. ‘Chris’ll be over in a while,’ he warned, over his shoulder.

‘Just Chris?’ JC’s question came out sharper than he’d meant it to.

Jesus, C, be obvious why don’tcha? ‘Yeah, just Chris.’

‘Shazam, if you ain’t comin’ down I’m comin’ up, man.’

Fucking Chris. I already have a headache. I don't need to listen to him now. Voice that makes dogs bark, ’s so high only bats can hear half of it.... Like a dentist’s drill.... ‘Whatever.’

Chris bounded into the room, full of a manic energy that set JC’s nerves on edge. ‘Man, this place is a sty. Lynn’ll shit, man.’

‘I’m cleaning it up, ’kay?’

‘Whoa. No need to get all defensive.’ Chris was pacing like a caged panther. ‘Jeeeezus, Sleepy. Why in the heck would you have that photo up? It’s, like, an out-take, man.’

‘Wallpaper’s screwed there. I ... needed to cover it.’

‘Man, peeling paper’d be better’n that. That is, like, the world’s worst photo ... Joe looks like a hit-man – I mean more’n usual – in a bad Mob movie, Curly looks like a rabid squirrel ... you an’ me, Christ, I’m not even that ugly really – you look like a Polish coal miner back in Pittsburgh.’ He was watching his friend’s reactions covertly. ‘Only one looks good in that shot is Poofu. He looks ... Hot.’ That got a reaction. ‘Not all girly and dorky and fresh off the watermelon truck for once. Lookin’ good, kinda angelic but studly ... he keeps that up, the teenies’ll start havin’ signs for him, and won’t Curly be pissed then, huh?’

JC managed a weak grin.

‘C, my man!’

Jesus Christ, Joe, give me a heart attack why don't you? JC dropped the phone back into its cradle as if it were red-hot.

‘You don’t knock anymore, Fatone?’

‘You don’t answer nomore, Chasez. Look, the three of us are downstairs and about ready to, I dunno, play pool, swim, something to keep Chris from getting’ too bored because you know that's dangerous. Get your ass in gear and c’mon. And – hey. Why don’t you call Lansten, he needs to get back into doin’ stuff with us.’

‘You want ... you want me to call him?’

Joe looked at him, compassionately. Levelly. ‘Just hit redial.’

‘And this time don’t hang up before it rings.’

Joe closed the door and padded over to his where his bandmate stood as if turned to stone. He swept JC up into a patented Fatone Bearhug, lifting the slimmer man off the floor, feet kicking.

‘ ’S okay, man. Let it out.’ Joe sat down on the unmade bed, pulling JC down with him as the brunet lead singer sobbed. ‘It’s all right, C. Love hurts sometimes.’

‘I’m not in love with him, I’m not.’

‘Hey, man, you can’t bullshit an old bullshitter.’

‘I’m not. I’m not.’ JC could barely whisper the denial. ‘Aw, Jesus, Joe.’

‘Lookit, C, we all know, and we all ... look. Actually. You two’re made for each other. You know that, he knows that, and even I figgered out –’

‘ ’Cause you’re the smartest, you just pretend you're not.’

‘Sssh. Anyways. You two, actually, are like so totally head over heels. First you were pushin’ him away an’ you nearly made one of you, maybe both, quit. Then it looked like it would happen. Then – I dunno, actually, what the hell did get into you?’

JC couldn’t answer, and just shook his head, dumbly.

‘Well, I dunno what crawled up your ass – lemme rephrase that – but what I do know is that your head’s way up it. Our little Lance loves you, man, just as much as you're torn up lovin’ him.’

‘He can’t. He can’t. I’ve treated him like dirt, dude ... God I’ve treated him so bad ... he must hate me now.…’

‘He don’t hate you, pal. Trust me on this. Lookit ... I don’t like getting’ all up in people’s business, actually ... but the way the two of you are killing each other and yourselves over this, way it’s eatin’ you alive, both of you, it’s getting’ to where it’s band business now. Me an’ Curly and Crazy are kinda tired of pastin’ each of you together all the time, actually. Yeah –’ JC’s head had snapped up and his bleary eyes held a question – ‘yeah, I said “each of you.” Anyways. I know you both love each other no matter what shit’s been between you. I’d like to see that work. But we, and I mean we, want a resolution here one way or the other, before the whole group gets tore apart. C. You gotta swallow your pride and your fear and your guilt and get things straight with him. You gotta.’

‘He hates me, I know he does. I’d hate me.’

‘I don’t hate you, Josh.’ The voice was soft, Southern, sad, and inexpressibly tender.

Holy shit. ‘La- James?’ Just and Chris set this up, I just know it.

‘May I come in, please?’

Joe slid smoothly out to join Justin and Chris on the landing as the door swung to behind him. ‘Wonder if he’ll still try an’ tell Lancey that it ain’t love.’

‘Mebbe when he’s through cryin’, after dey come up for air between kisses, and dey gots their shirts off,’ Justin smirked.

‘“Your lips say ‘no’ but your bod-ay says ‘yes’!”’ Chris yelped as they ran down the stairs. ‘Let’s hit the pool, men, I’m tired of emotions!’

‘Actually,’ Joe muttered as they shucked down and got into their trunks, ‘we oughta cover that song, ya know, the 10cc one.’

Justin snorted as he threw towels at them, offhandedly. ‘Betcha dey gonna be showin’ more’n ’nuff ’fection wit’out us callin’ ’tention to it.’

END

I’m Not In Love: Music and lyrics by 10 CC (Graham Gouldman and Eric Stewart, 1975)