This, Justin quickly decided, had to be the worst hangover of his life. Ever. Even worse than that time in Germany when he’d professed his love for Chris and fallen into a skip. Even worse than his twenty-first birthday when he’d woken up in a ditch in Illinois with twenty cents and half a sombrero. Possibly even worse than after his twenty-second birthday when he’d woken up with Lance behind the panda enclosure at the zoo.
He was almost certain he must have suffered brain bruising or something because fuck but his head hurt. Pounding and aching like someone had dragged it out his ear, pummelled it with a mallet and poked it back in through his nose. With a sharp stick.
Ugh, and his mouth. Were he able to detach his tongue from the roof of it he could possibly comment on flavour but right now the only message that his brain could process was, water!
He blinked open an eye.
Ow… jeez.
He blinked again. Gradually shapes began to form.
Grass. Stones. Trees.
Oh. Damn. So, his synapses decided to choose now to kick in and point out that not only was he in some sort of… nature place, he was damp, and cold. And mostly naked. Great, thanks fate.
No, he decided, this was definitely the worst.
His twenty-third birthday must have been a success.
It was then that someone kicked him.
“Ow, fuck! Chris you piece of shit! I swear to god—”
He paused. No, Chris’ shoes weren’t so… pointy. He snapped round, ready to launch an attack on whoever had the nerve to kick a so obviously hung-over guy. On his birthday. Well technically the day after his birthday but whatever. It was still bad form.
“It is alive, then.”
“Yes. But I… I do not recognize its dialect.”
“Is it some new breed of orc?”
Justin blinked. He blinked again. No, it just wasn’t possible. Obviously he was still drunk. And asleep. And high. Obviously he was because no one, no one fell asleep and woke up being kicked by an elf. They just… didn’t. It wasn’t possible.
“I think it is dying.”
Justin shot a glare at the short, bearded thing. Really, that was just unnecessary. Adding insult to injury.
“Perhaps it has been wounded. I shall see if—”
“Halt, Legolas, we do not know if it is friend or foe.”
The tall, dirty-looking one cleared his throat and addressed Justin slowly.
“Are -- you -- in -- league -- with -- Saruman?”
Justin considered this. If this really was a dream he may as well play along, he supposed. He frowned. If this were a dream then surely he could just wish away this fucking headache. But whatever. Who knew what shit went on inside his subconscious? Surely there must be a message here. Or maybe he’d just eaten too much cheese before bed again.
His… observers… seemed to be waiting for a response. Justin rolled his eyes.
“Are y-o-u,” the guy started, pointing at Justin as though he were some kind of dumbass, “in l-e-a-g-u-e with S-a-r—”
“No,” Justin said, “I am in N-s-y-n-c.”
This caused a moment of hushed discussion between the elf and the grubby one.
“What is your name?”
“Justin.”
“That is a strange name indeed.”
Justin frowned. Rude, they were. And so goddamn filthy.
“You stink.” Justin said. Because they did.
The flamey-looking one stepped towards him.
“I am Legolas. What is your purpose here?”
“I’m really, really hung-over.”
“Do you—are you wounded?” The dark-haired one asked.
Justin scratched the back of his neck. “I dunno. It’s possible that I have, like, a brain haemorrhage.”
“Where are you from?”
“Memphis, Tennessee. I live mostly in LA, though.”
“I have not heard of these places, and yet I have travelled far throughout Middle Earth.” He stepped closer, “Tell me, Justin, how it was that you came here.”
Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is I drank a lot last night, a lot and—wait, did you say ‘Middle Earth’?”
The guy nodded. Hmm, up close he wasn’t at all bad looking, Justin noticed, all rugged and manly and shit. He somehow carried off ‘dirty’, a quality Justin had always envied in others. This was still no excuse for poor hygiene, though. He smelt fucking terrible. Like Justin’s trash when he’d forgotten to take it out. Yeah, that was the smell. Kinda fruity.
“—from Gondor. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My companions here are Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli, son of Gloin. We are tracking friends of ours. You may have seen them? Two stout young hobbits, the little folk from the Shire.”
Justin stared at the three blankly. There was no way. No way. He hadn’t followed the Lord of the Rings very thoroughly but he knew that JC had, and had subsequently been obsessed with the ‘Legolas’ dude for, like, months. Those had been dark times.
But no, Justin was no fool, these were obviously freaky role-playing wierdos who thought they lived ‘in the game’ or whatever. Strange, Justin thought, because weren’t all geeks supposed to be ugly? Or spotty, or fat. Well, the beardy one made sense. Probably worked in the Taco Bell ‘by day’. Or, like, in a photo booth. Something lame like that.
The other two though…they didn’t quite fit Justin’s ideas of losers. They were too…too…well hell, he may as well admit it; they were too attractive. And the old one looked pretty tough.
Oops. They’d been talking to him.
“Um…what?”
“What—are—you—doing—here?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “I—am—trying—to—get—back—home.”
“To…to this place you call L.A?”
“Yeah. Er, back to my mothership.”
The three shared a confused look. Justin sighed loudly.
“Look,” he said, “I just want to get back home. It’d be really great if you’d help me, but if you won’t, or can’t, or need to recharge your phasers or something, then kindly fuck off and let me get on with it.”
“In which direction are you going?”
Take a guess, Justin thought, and stuck out his arm. “That one.”
“Ah. Then you may join with us for a while, if you wish. We, too are travelling that way.”
“Great! Do I get a special hat?”
Blank looks. Jeez, humourless as well as creepy. Although he had kinda wanted a special hat. That would’ve been fun.
Justin stared down at his half-naked self. At least it was the right half that was naked, well the more decent one anyway. Pantless, now that would’ve been interesting.
________________________________
They set off.
Running.
Justin was fit; he prided himself on this, but come on. This was like cross-country sprinting. This was madness. Luckily the short guy, Gimli, seemed to be having problems, too, so Justin overtook him to make himself feel better.
_____________________________________
The loud thud should have given it away.
Justin turned around and saw a lump in the distance. Most likely a rock. He scanned around. No Gimli.
Ah.
“Legolor, Aragif!” He yelled.
The two figures on the horizon snapped round. “What is it?”
“Gimli’s passed out!”
They ran back to where Justin was standing.
“Miserable dwarf.” Blondie muttered.
Eventually a loud wheezing could be heard.
“I am not suited to this.” The dwarf stated.
No shit, Justin thought.
Aragol, or Armagof or whatever he was called, sighed loudly.
“We shall rest here.” He said, resignedly.
“Are you sure this is wise?” The elf questioned. “We are far behind as it is.”
“Alas, Legolas, that is true. However, our own safety must also be considered. Gimli is weary and our new friend, Justin, seems to be in need of rest. No, we shall stop for now.”
Legolas huffed. “Very well.”
Justin sighed in relief. He was exhausted. It was all very well for these whackos to prance around chasing midgets across the fields, but Justin’s body was made for other things. Like dancing, and fucking, and adorning glossy magazines.
___________________________
It was beautiful out here, Justin thought, staring up at the inky sky, scattered with millions upon millions of glittering stars. He was having a JC moment, he realized, and suddenly he felt kinda hollow. Damn, he really missed the guys.
He wished they were here. He wished he could crack jokes with Chris about gay elves and Nick Carter, and have a grass fight with Joey, and bitch to Lance about the lack of proper sanitation facilities. He wished he could explore the appropriate use of the colour green with JC, and then curl up with him by the fire as Joey sang one of his show tunes.
And he was just not going to cry. He wasn’t. Especially not in front of a gnome, a sexually ambiguous elf and a man who seemed to own only one pair of pants.
He swiped furiously at his eyes. He hadn’t been homesick in years, dammit, not since fucking Germany.
He snuggled further into the itchy blanket they’d given him and sniffed pitifully.
He almost yelped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Justin?”
Justin snapped his head round and came face-to-face with Legolas, looking artistically concerned.
“What?” He muttered.
“I heard—I do not mean to pry, but pray tell me what is upsetting you.”
Justin sighed. At least the gnome hadn’t discovered him. That would have been fucking embarrassing.
“I’m just—kinda disorientated right now and,” he bit his lip, “I sorta miss my friends. I don’t know where they are. I don’t know where I am.”
Legolas grasped Justin’s hand and tugged him up into a sitting position.
“It would appear you are in much the same situation as us. We, however, know where we are.” He smiled a little at Justin. “We are nearing Rohan if that is of any use to you.”
Justin shook his head sadly. “I don’t know Rohan. Is it in Canada?”
“Canada?”
“Oh nevermind.”
Justin considered Legolas. In the moonlight he looked a bit like Orlando Bloom but girlier. Still hot, though. The long hair was kinda disconcerting.
“Lie down, Justin.” He said softly. “I will sing you back to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long, tiring day indeed.”
He lay back down into his nest of itchy blankets and closed his eyes as the elf started to hum quietly. It was a pretty tune, with a catchy melody, and Justin found himself harmonising automatically.
Legolas stopped humming. Justin blinked open an eye.
“You have the voice of an elf,” Legolas said, smiling. “And the ear of one, too, if somewhat less pointy.”
That, Justin realized, was probably as close as he was ever going to get to a joke. He laughed encouragingly.
“Thanks.”
Legolas urged him back down and started humming again. Justin promptly fell asleep.
______________________________
He woke up and came face-to-face with the gnome.
He screamed.
Was this one of Chris’ sick jokes?
No, wait, he remembered. He was in ‘Middle Earth’. Great.
The rugged-looking one cast an amused glance in his direction as Justin wrestled the damn gnome off his blankets. They may have been itchy as fuck but they were better than nothing, and now this creep was trying to take them off him?
“We are leaving soon, Justin, we must pack away.”
“Right,” he said, “of course. I’m just—testing him.” He whacked the gnome hard on its arm. “And it’s—I’m a little cold.”
For one terrifying moment, Justin thought Aragorn was going to give him his tunic thing. Not that he wouldn’t have been grateful, just—that thing had evidently never come even close to detergent. And Justin’s chest was all silky-soft and tanned from his recent trip to the spa, so.
But luckily it was Legolas who offered him a top. It was very green. And fucking itchy. It was, however, very mysteriously clean and that was nice.
“Thanks,” Justin said, feeling his estimation of Legolas rise, but only a bit. He was still too snooty.
______________________________
They stopped at midday after Gimli ran into a badger. Or something that looked very much like a badger.
Aragorn bandaged up the gnome’s leg while it grimaced in an extremely unattractive way.
“Euurgh.” Justin said, because he couldn’t stop himself.
He saw Aragorn bite back a smile.
Luckily Legolas knocked Gimli out soon after with some noxious red potion. Justin sighed in relief. There was only so long he could fake sympathy.
He sat down against a tree, opposite Aragorn. Legolas came and sat by them.
“Tell us a little about yourself, Justin.” Aragorn said.
“I’m a superstar.” Justin said, because there seemed no point in lying.
They looked at him blankly. “Is that… some form of wizard?”
Justin sighed. “No,” he said, “no—I’m a singer. A performer.” He paused. “I’m quite fam—in my land I’m quite well known.”
“So you are a bard? An entertainer?”
“…yes. Yes, I am.”
“His voice is elven in quality.”
Aragorn’s eyebrows rose. “Is it so?” He asked Justin.
Justin shrugged. “That’s what Legolas says.”
“Then your voice must be beautiful indeed. Elves are not quick to deliver compliments. Or so I have discovered.”
Legolas laughed. It appeared to be some kind of in-joke. Justin laughed too, because he was bored.
“Why are you travelling with that gnome?”
“Gimli?” Aragorn asked. Justin nodded. “He is strong and stout of heart. And we had no choice.”
“Ah.” Justin said knowingly. “In my band we have someone like that. He’s called Chris. He really sucks. He hides my shoes.”
“That must be troublesome.”
“Yes. It is.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Justin considered the other two and felt somehow that he was missing the joke. Maybe this was all a set-up. The alternative was just too weird.
But if this were a set up, it was a fucking elaborate one. The actors were doing a damn good job of being adventurers, or hippies, or whatever they were meant to be. And what about these ‘orc’ things they kept encountering? And the injuries? Wasn’t that taking character acting just a little too far?
____________________________
By day four Justin had fully accepted that he was, in fact, in the Lord of the Rings. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with, but the alternative, that he had fucking vicious friends, was something Justin was unwilling to explore.
Jesus, he wasn’t that hated, surely. He’d just recently bought Lance a massive gift hamper from Crabtree & Evelyn, and he would’ve been the most likely suspect, so.
That meant that he was in Middle Earth, which was all very well except that how the hell was he going to get back? His skin was losing its baby-soft glow from lack of moisturising and damned if he was going to go another day without changing his boxers. It was getting just nasty.
Things could have been worse, though. His companions were really pretty cool. Gimli was easy to ignore and would probably die soon anyway. Aragorn was hot and clever and understanding and when he talked about his girlfriend, Arwen, or rolled his eyes when Gimli fell over another squirrel, he reminded Justin a little of Joey. And that was strangely comforting and made it a little easier that he was stranded with three people he didn’t know in a place that was supposed to be fictional.
Legolas on the other hand… he made Justin kinda uneasy. Sometimes he seemed totally OK, like when he bitched to Justin about Aragorn’s hygiene or sung him songs in Elvish so that he could harmonise, but other times he seemed so aloof and superior, in the way that Justin used to think Lance was, and Justin found himself biting his lip before he spoke.
It seemed like the three were on some kind of important quest, something about a ring, and tracking down these Hobbits who were short but weren’t the same as dwarves as Gimli had explained, at great length, one night when Legolas had given him the wrong potion and instead of knocking him out had seemed to exorcise every single snipe and grudge from inside his disproportionately large head.
That had been a real low.
But they had a clear purpose at any rate, and every day Justin became more aware that they would probably have to leave him soon, because really he wasn’t much use, and that sucked. He hated feeling like their excess baggage. He was crap with survival. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d do after they’d gone, when he was left all alone in this strange place.
That thought made him cry again, which also sucked, and seemed to be happening a lot recently. Personally, Justin thought that Aragorn’s cooking was to blame. Who wouldn’t cry after eating roast rat three nights in a row? Well maybe Little Orphan Annie, but that didn’t help anyone. And certainly not Justin who was faced with the reality of probably having to eat it again.
God, Middle Earth really fucking sucked.
________________________
On the seventh day two major things happened; the Hobbits’ whereabouts was discovered (Fangorn, apparently) and they came across Lance.
Lance was found bathing in the river, and was seemingly unfazed when he saw Justin coming towards him followed by an elf, a gnome and a tramp.
“J! I was just wondering when I’d run into one of you guys!”
Justin ran, fully clothed, into the water and hugged Lance so hard his arms went numb. He hated that he was crying.
Lance got out of the water and dressed, into suspiciously clean clothes. He stared up into the sun, looked back at Justin and grinned. “Dude,” he said, “at least you got the Lord of the Rings.”
Justin gaped at him. Not only was he irritatingly smug, clean and tanned, he was talking in riddles. Justin told him this. Lance laughed.
“See, it’s this thing…”
___________________________
Justin had never before appreciated Lance as much as he did now. It was just so, so wonderful to be around someone he knew, and who knew him and Justin found himself sighing in relief long after Lance had first been found.
It was fun because Lance had taken an instant dislike to Legolas and took every opportunity he had to bitch about him, or do stupid impersonations of him or pelt him with clumps of mud and blame it on Gimli. It was a mark of how grateful Justin was to see Lance that he didn’t point out that Lance’s hatred almost definitely stemmed from the fact that they were Just So Alike.
It was also kinda fun to debate this with Aragorn, and by Lance’s third day in the party they’d cooked up a delicious plan to get the two together. It was so blatantly obvious that there was an attraction there, as Lance’s wrath was rarely incurred by leggings alone and Legolas, apparently, hadn’t gotten laid since the First Age.
Justin, on the other hand, was getting ever more horny. He was a young man; he had needs. He’d never been this long without sex before.
He couldn’t even jerk off here, as there was always someone on watch duty at night. How Lance and Legolas sustained a healthy sex life was anyone’s guess.
Which left him with two options: Aragorn or celibacy. Currently he was favouring the latter, as Aragorn, thought hot, was too goddamn dirty for Justin’s taste and besides, the guy was practically married.
Every now and then he wondered if they’d find the others.
___________________________
Lance had explained the thing to him, but still it made little sense.
Apparently, each of the guys, on their twenty-first birthday, had been transported to a fictional world. Each took with them all the others who had already done it. Chris, being the first to transport, had therefore gone alone. Why Justin had only gone on his twenty-third birthday was something Lance couldn’t explain.
It appeared that where you went was related to who you were, and everyone had a reason for going, one that they had to figure out before they could come back.
Chris had ended up in the Borrowers until he realized that, really, 5”8 was not that short.
Joey had gone into 1984 and had never spoken of it to anyone.
JC went into the movie Wilde and had fucked the Jude Law-alike until he “became OK with his sexuality.” Bullshit, Justin thought, JC had always been fine with his sexuality.
Lance had gone into Star Trek until he realized that yeah, he really did want to go into space.
“So why,” Justin had said, “why the fuck am I in Lord of the Rings?”
To that Lance had no answer.
____________________________
By Justin’s second week in Middle Earth, he felt he had acclimatised well. Plus he had a fantastic tan. The grubby thing had been a bit of an obstacle to overcome, but there were rivers and lakes every now and then that proved sufficient for basic cleanliness.
Aragorn was beginning to smell better, most likely because Justin’s fragrance had degenerated to much the same level. Gross, but there it was.
Legolas and Lance were becoming insufferably satiated and cheery. Justin found he missed Lance’s bitching about the elf’s flamey boots and his suspiciously blonde hair, and he missed harmonising songs he didn’t understand with Legolas and then wondering about Aragorn’s true sexuality.
The plus side, however, was that he got to spend more time with Aragorn, who turned out to be quite funny when he didn’t have a bug up his ass.
Gimli was just there. Always just there. Like a bad smell. He was mostly ignored.
_____________________________
They found Gandalf on what, according to Lance, was a Thursday. Gandalf, it turned out, was a wizard. As far as Justin could make out, all this meant was that he wore a big, ugly hat, spoke in vaguely condescending riddles and could blow cool smoke things with his pipe.
He told Justin he’d been aware of their presence in Middle Earth, and had already come across Chris and Joey, whom he’d sent back home. He couldn’t send Justin back until they found JC.
“What about my mission?” Justin asked, slightly disappointed.
“It appears you don’t have one. Being two years late has made it redundant. As soon as we find your friend I can send you both home.”
“You could send Lance back now, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, I could.”
Lance took that opportunity to stop fawning over his prissy boyfriend and spoke up. “Never!”
Justin raised an eyebrow.
Lance cleared his throat. “What I meant was that I am deeply concerned about JC and I will not leave until he is found.”
Justin caught Aragorn’s gaze and rolled his eyes.
_________________________
A week later and still there was no sign of JC. Justin was starting to worry. After all, JC was kinda delicate.
That night, after the others had gone to sleep, Justin stayed up to talk to Gandalf, who was on lookout.
He sat on a log opposite him and watched his face for a few moments through the firelight.
“Do you know what my mission would have been?” He asked softly. Gandalf could be sorta scary. Like that time Justin had knocked his hat into the ditch. That hadn’t been pleasant.
The old man considered him a moment. “I believe,” he said, “I believe it was closely connected to Aragorn. The gist of your discovery would appear to be to have been to follow your heart.”
Justin nodded.
“Two years ago—do you know what this might have meant to you?”
Justin stared into the fire. Two years ago, 2001. The Celebrity year. He’d still been dating Britney. That had been the summer of the Pop Odyssey tour, when he’d first shaved his head after… ah.
Yes.
After the JC thing.
He looked up to meet Gandalf’s eyes. “Well?”
“Um.” Justin said. “Yeah. I know now. Um, thanks.” And he shuffled off the log and dove into his itchy blanket.
The JC thing. God, he hadn’t thought about that in years. Well, not since 2001.
Suppression had clearly worked.
Without wanting to relive the painful details, Justin could suffice it to say that he’d maybe been a little in love with JC. But at that time, who hadn’t? He’d had the sexy, tousled hair, the tour body… and yeah.
So maybe JC had liked him back.
Except he’d been with Britney. And having broken up with his first two girlfriends because of infidelity, he’d sworn never to do it himself, so.
And that had been it, really. They’d shared one drunken kiss on his twenty-first, but Justin had kissed a lot of people that night so it didn’t really mean anything.
Damn, he’d carefully forgotten about all that shit. Fucking nosy wizards and their ways.
Supposing this had happened then, would he now be with JC? It was inconsequential to wonder, because Justin was no longer in love with JC, and doubted JC still loved him either.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t still worried about him, though.
____________________________
He was getting really tired of Middle Earth. Too many nights of sleeping under horrible, itchy blankets had given him a rash. Insufficient nutrients, and lack of Apple Jacks, had left him cranky and his body veering dangerously towards gangly.
And still there was no sign of JC.
He spent all of his time with Gandalf and Aragorn as Legolas and Lance were still in that nauseating honeymoon phase, and Gimli just plain sucked.
Aragorn and Gandalf were beginning to suck, too. They just seemed so old, which was fair enough for Gandalf who looked like he’d lived through the better side of death, but was annoying in Aragorn who would otherwise be prime fuck-buddy material.
The horniness was therefore still a problem.
And he needed new shoes. Nike Air Jordans just weren’t up to the challenge of Middle Earth. Justin thought he might alert Nike to this when he got back.
____________________________
Justin had completely lost track of how long he’d been here. All he knew was that his pants were now home to various forms of life other than himself, and he was rapidly approaching Beard Zone, which was very, very scary.
And Lance, having spent far too much time with his gay elf lover, was beginning to speak in rhyme.
Clearly, it was time to go home.
“Good news!” Gandalf announced.
“We’ve lost Gimli?” Aragorn asked hopefully.
“No—”
“My boyfriend’s the hottest? Oh, wait, we already knew that.” Lance and Legolas laughed. Justin considered how Gandalf felt about assassination.
“Quiet!” Everyone shut up. “No, I was about to say, Justin… Lance, you may now return home. JC has left Middle Earth. I believe he was aided by Galadriel.”
“Thank fuck!” Justin yelled, grinning manically. “G-man, beam me up!” He was met by blank looks. He sighed. “Gandalf, it would be pleasing if you would now return me to my home.”
“Very well. And Lance? You cannot leave without him.”
“Yes,” Justin said, kicking Lance in the shin, “he’s coming, too.”
Justin said goodbye to Aragorn, and pretended not to see Gimli, while Lance made out frantically with Legolas. He came to Gandalf.
“Thanks, Gandalf. You rule.”
Gandalf smiled. “Justin, I think you came here late for a reason.”
“Right. Yeah. Can I have your hat?”
Gandalf waved his staff and---
__________________________
This, Justin quickly decided, had to be the worst hangover of his life. Ever. Even worse than that time in Germany when he’d professed his love for Chris and fallen into a skip. Even worse than his twenty-first birthday when he’d woken up in a ditch in Illinois with twenty cents and half a sombrero. Possibly even worse than after his twenty-second birthday when he’d woken up with Lance behind the panda enclosure at the zoo.
He was almost certain he must have suffered brain bruising or something because fuck but his head hurt. Pounding and aching like someone had dragged it out his ear, pummelled it with a mallet and poked it back in through his nose. With a sharp stick.
Ugh,
and his mouth. Were he able to detach his tongue from the roof of it he
could possibly comment on flavour but right now the only message that his brain
could process was, water!
He blinked open an eye.
Ow… jeez.
He blinked again. Gradually shapes began to form.
Pillows. His arm. His bedside clock.
Oh. Right. So.
He’d gotten back, then.
The effects of magic must be similar to alcohol.
He rolled around cautiously. No stones. No bugs. No goddamn itchy blankets. He was definitely back.
____________________________
At around midday, after he’d spent a good three hours in the bath, he rang the guys.
Chris arrived first. “Middle Earth, dude!” He said, and high-fived Justin, “I got the fucking Borrowers!”
Justin scratched his ass. “Jeez, that must have sucked.”
“Like you don’t even know.”
Chris wandered into his kitchen and helped himself to the chips and dip Justin had laid out on the table, because he was thoughtful like that.
Joey arrived soon after. “J! Good to see you, man. We thought you might have got stuck or some shit. Apparently that happened to Howie.”
“This happened to the Backstreet Boys, too?”
“Yeah,” Chris said, “it’s like the boyband curse or something.”
“Damn. There are some bitter, bitter voodoo cultists in this world.”
Chris nodded solemnly.
Lance arrived just after three, looking miserable. He greeted Justin with a nod and padded pitifully into Justin’s kitchen.
“I miss him.” He whined.
“Who?” Chris asked excitedly.
“Legolas.”
“Dude!” Chris cried. “You fucked an elf? My opinion of you, Bass, although admittedly low, has just risen from ‘loser’ to ‘geek’. And that’s hard to do.”
“Wow,” Joey said, “wow.”
They talked for a while about the weirdness of ending up in fictional worlds, and about whether Legolas was the same as Orlando Bloom and could Lance now justify coming onto him, and then it was dark and Justin was tired so he kicked them all out.
There was still no sign of JC.
___________________________
Justin was in his kitchen, in his pyjama bottoms, pouring himself a glass of water, when he heard a knock at the door. He took a sip of the water and wandered over, opened it.
“Hey.” JC said.
“Hey. You’re… kinda late.”
JC scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in the studio.” He smiled a little. “Here, I brought you this.”
He offered Justin a pink box, tied together with a sparkly silver ribbon. It rattled dully when Justin shook it.
He let JC inside and wandered back through to his kitchen, sat down on a chair and opened the box. JC sat opposite him and stared out his window.
“Wow.” Justin said. “Oh my god. This is like the Lord of the Rings 101 gift box or something.”
JC smiled. “Yeah. There’s the films, the books, the graphic novels… plus a sneak preview of the next film from Peter Jackson because apparently he liked your album.”
“Cool.” Justin said, flicking through one of the books. It was totally weird seeing the names down on paper, the names of these people—no, he reminded himself, characters—whom he’d met, whom he knew.
“This is totally weird.” He told JC.
There was silence and Justin leafed through the rest of the book, and scanned the blurb on the back of the DVD case of the Two Towers. He looked up to see JC watching him carefully, tracing his finger around the rim of Justin’s glass of water.
“C?”
“Yeah? Oh, just thinking.”
“About what?”
JC cocked his head and dipped his finger idly into the water; let a droplet trickle off the tip onto the table.
“About my twenty-first and. Stuff.”
Coaxing conversation out of JC was sometimes like waiting for ketchup to come out of those infuriating English glass bottles. It would come out bit by bit, or not at all, until either you poked a knife in or waited, and waited and waited. And then it would all come out in one big rush and you’d have too much and not enough chips for it and.
OK, so maybe it wasn't like that at all.
“C, what did you learn from your birthday—thing?”
“Like—don’t fight love and stuff. Love is never wrong. Stuff like that.”
Oh. “Oh.”
JC shrugged. “What about you?”
Justin waved his hands around dismissively. “My thing was all fucked-up. My message was, like, redundant.”
“Oh.”
JC stayed a little longer, until Justin fell asleep while he was talking about darning and realized it was time he went to bed. Mostly this realization came from the fact that he fell asleep, but also partly from the fact that he’d started talking about darning.