Chris was ready to scream. Normally, he fed off the pre-show chaos, let it psych him up. The fans' enthusiasm, the efficient energy of the crew, the encouragement of friends, it was all great and sent him bouncing off walls. Tonight, he was ready for the rubber room Jive executives often threatened him with.

There were a few hyperactive fans in the meet'n'greet, but most of the civilians around were suits, their spoilt kids, and minor celebrities looking to be photographed at the "concert of the year". The regular crew were trying to go about business, but they were also trying to keep the hell away from not only the pay-per-view cameras but the MTV crew that were there for some unspecified purpose. Chris thought he'd seen an Entertainment Tonight or Access Hollywood logo on one of the cameras as well but he wasn't up to keeping track. And apparently no one had told Britney's entourage that she was doing only three songs and this was an NSYNC concert, because they were running around demanding things too. As for the encouragement of friends? Inviting the FuMan Crew had been a Bad Idea. They were a little too into the party atmosphere and a poor substitute for his family. His mom had come down with a post-Christmas bout of the flu, and all the girls were currently gathered in front of her TV, "with plenty of blankets and fluids" as Taylor had assured him, trying to sound mature or something. Sure, not all of Lance's family had made it, and it was impossible for all the Fatones to ever be anywhere at the same time, but still...

"Happy New Year!" a female voice shrieked in his ear and suddenly he was being hugged by an over-eager teenager. "Oh, wow!" she breathed, bouncing off him. "I just hugged Chris Kirkpatrick. Omigod!"

Chris briefly considered strangling her.

"I'm such a big fan. Like... oh god. So hot!" she giggled, vibrating in front of him. Chris wondered if the bouncing was partly to keep herself warm. A tank top at the end of December, in an air conditioned arena, wasn't the best of choices. And were the tips of her hair dyed that colour to match the tank top or had she picked the outfit to match her hair? Either way, the contrast of jet-black hair with electric blue tips was distracting enough that he didn't have to pay much attention to what she was babbling.

Chris blamed the hair for the fact that he only noticed the envelope she had thrust at him after it jabbed into his thumb hard enough to draw blood. He winced and pulled his hand back.

She faltered as he sucked on the wound. "S...sorry. I just..." The letter, covered in shiny stickers, fluttered in nervous hands. "It's from my friend. She couldn't make it. I promised her I'd give it to you -- you're her favourite."

Reminding himself it wasn't her friend's fault she was such a flake, Chris accepted it. She was all smiles again.

"I wanna get like, a picture of you reading it. For proof and stuff."

Obediently, he opened the envelope, avoiding further paper cuts. It was a standard green "Happy New Year" card. He flipped it open and was momentarily blinded.

"Thanks!" the fan chirped before bouncing off, yelling "Jay-ceeeeee!"

Chris rolled his eyes and glanced at the card again. Inside was a sketch of some kind. A map of the arena? Wow, he had another stalker. Time to up the security. He was about to tear it up when the bold signature caught his eye: NicK!'02

Chris blinked and checked the sketch. It was the layout of the backstage corridors. The Toy Room was labelled, along with the load-in area where the buses were waiting. One other room was marked with a tantalizing "?".

"I'm hunting wabbits!" he called on his way out.

The room was one of those random, bare rooms all arenas seemed to have. It was probably where they stored the hundreds of folding chairs a concert set-up required. Nick was leaning against one wall, doodling in a small notebook. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a Buccaneers jersey, a battered baseball cap hiding his brown hair. Chris noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses either and guessed this was "Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys" in off-duty gear.

The door clanged shut behind him and Nick looked up.

"Hey," Chris greeted him, a little wary. He never knew what to expect with Nick.

"Hey." Nick's smile was perfect sunshine. Not dazzling, but glowing warm and gorgeous. Chris chose to blame the little flip in his stomach on pre-show adrenaline. Otherwise, he was really in trouble. Nick moved to hug him and Chris met him halfway. Nick gave good hugs. It was nice to just lean into him for a moment, letting the frustrations of the last half-hour melt away.

" Sorry I didn't call earlier."

"Whatever. Holidays. And with all our rehearsals..." Chris shrugged. "I haven't called you back yet."

"No big deal." Nick finally released him, stepping back to look Chris in the eye. He didn't let go entirely, catching Chris' left hand in his right. "I just... we need to talk."

Chris looked down at their hands, wondering what was coming next.

"Do you remember the first time you really hugged me?" Definitely not what he'd expected. A glance upwards told him Nick was also focused on their joined hands. Or maybe the floor. Chris frowned, trying to remember what Nick was talking about.

"Was it when A.J....?"

"Yeah." Nick's voice was soft, a little gravelly. "The Teen Choice Awards."

"You remember which show it was?" Chris teased.

"With the shirt I had to wear? Never forget it." He kicked at the concrete floor. "I'm lyin'. That whole time is one big blur. But I was thinking about it the other day and I remembered... you."

Nick followed Aaron into the press area. Whispers shot through the room, shutters going off everywhere, but Nick didn't seem to notice. The two brothers clowned around with each other as if neither had a care in the world.

Like everyone else around him, Chris studied Nick, trying to find some hint of the boy who had fallen to pieces on MTV not so long before.

"Callous," drifted by his ears.

"Hides it well," said another.

"Probably on something himself."

But the final judgement came from Joey. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Carter was happy as a clam."

Chris listened to all this, from the people Nick was going to sit with all night, and couldn't help himself. It was such a simple thing, to make his way through the crowd. To look Nick in the eye for an instant before hugging him for all he was worth. Nick hugged back, automatically at first, then clinging hard. When he finally let go, it was with one word.

"Thanks."

"You were there when I really needed somebody. Same that first night you came to my place. Was last time just another time you decided to be there for me?" Nick didn't sound upset, more curious.

"I..." Chris wasn't prepared for this. And was this really the right time for this kind of discussion, anyway?

"If it was a one night thing for you, I can deal. I'll go out there, enjoy the show with Leslie, no problem." Nick's completely reasonable tone reminded Chris of Lance and suddenly he knew what to say.

"Carter, I never thought I'd say this to you, but" he cuffed Nick upside the head, "you think too damn much." Nick laughed, startled. "Seriously. It was fun. It was good. Just enjoy whatever happens next."

This time his smile was slow, his eyes dark, his gaze intent. Chris knew for sure he was in trouble.

"Okay then... want some company tonight?"

Chris ran offstage after the encore. His lungs were burning and his left knee was going to need ice, but the adrenaline crackling through him made it all worth it. He downed a bottle of water, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Whoo!" JC yelled, running past. "I can fly!"

"If they slipped something into C's water during the show, we wouldn't even know," Joey remarked with a laugh. He clapped Chris on the back. "Great show."

"You too. And hey, happy 2003!"

"Yeah, happy new year!"

"Happy new year," Anthony echoed. "Where's Timberlake? Britney's waiting."

"Wardrobe?" Joey suggested. "Hey, how many takes do you think they're gonna do?"

Chris groaned. "I forgot about that." Britney and Justin's duet was being released as a single and the two of them had agreed to do a few more run-throughs after the show for a live video. The audience had been asked to stay and watch. "I wanna get out of here man!"

"Go for a run or something before you start bouncing off the walls, Kirkpatrick." Joey advised. "I'm gonna see if Brianna's still awake."

"'Go for a run,' he says," Chris grumbled to himself, heading for the Quiet Room and non-sweaty clothes. "On concrete floors with knees that are already a bitch. There's an idea."

"Talking to yourself?" The voice came out of the shadows and Chris let out a yelp. Discovering Nick posed nonchalantly against the wall, finger to his lips and eyes laughing, did nothing to slow his frantic heartbeat.

"Um... Hi." Apparently it did nothing to speed his thinking processes either. The jersey Nick had been wearing earlier was tied around his waist. The hat was gone too. "Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys" had left the building, leaving behind a hot college boy in a tight black wifebeater. Chris moved in a little closer. "Hi."

"So hot," Nick murmured, stepping into him. His index finger traced the path of a droplet of sweat, down from Chris' hairline, along his jaw...

Chris reached out a hand, finding warm cotton over a firm chest. He pushed, and felt the impact when Nick hit the wall. He moved with him, going after the pulse point on Nick's neck with his tongue. Nick groaned, tipping back his head to give Chris better access. Chris lapped intently, tasting salt - it had been hot in the audience too.

Strong arms circled him and Nick grabbed his ass, startling him out of his rhythm. A second later, Nick's hands were supporting his thighs as he was lifted up and pulled closer. Chris might have objected to being manhandled if it wasn't so hot, and if the new position hadn't been just perfect for other activities. He started a hard grind against Nick, feeling a welcome hardness beneath Nick's jeans.

"Gonna get caught," Nick panted, thrusting up against him.

"Gonna last?" he countered, bracing himself on Nick's shoulders and speeding up, trying to match the blood rushing through his veins.

Nick's fingers dug painfully into his thighs. His reply was incoherent.

"Mmm hmmm," was all Chris could manage now, barely able to sound smug. He bit down on an earlobe. Nick swore and came, Chris following soon after.

"Shit," Nick complained, once they had managed to separate themselves. "Do you have some weird post-coital laundry kink, Kirkpatrick?"

"Unlike some people, I came prepared." Nick groaned at the half-intentional pun, but Chris kept his smirk. "I have a change of clothes waiting for me behind door number one." He waved in the direction of the Quiet Room door.

"Yeah, well I don't. So if you want a ride outta here..." Nick paused long enough to appreciate the fact that Chris had started bouncing again, "...hurry your ass up, 'cause I need out of these jeans."

"Hurry my *fine* ass up," Chris corrected. "All the signs say so."

"Whatever," Nick pretended grumpiness but he was grinning. "Red Beetle down by the buses. If your fine ass isn't in it in five minutes, we're going."

"All right!" Chris took off like a bat out of hell, concrete floors notwithstanding.

It took him six minutes, but the car's engine wasn't even running when he flung himself into the backseat next to Nick.

"Hi Chris," Leslie greeted him, putting her two-toned hair up into a ponytail. "Stay low and let's bust outta here."

"Do you come from a long line of spies?" Chris asked.

"She said get down!" Nick yanked him sideways as they passed the gates. He landed with his head in Nick's lap.

"Anything you'd like me to do while I'm down here?"

"NO SEX!" Leslie declared. "This is my car and no one will be having any sex!"

"Too late," Nick whispered. Chris snickered.
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