12.
"Because his mother knows people, that's why."
But on his own mom's birthday that year, his Aunt Sheila had shown up with Disney movies he'd seen a thousand times, like seeing Goofy was still be a big deal for him. She'd pushed his mom out the door and said, "Queen for a day, sugar. It's your birthday, take the day off." It wasn't really fun for Justin but his mom came home with a Macy's bag full of new clothes and a loose, happy smile.
So Justin ignored Scott and his stupid haircut and the Supersoaker that all the other kids were fighting over even though it was supposed to be Justin's present. He grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him around the side of the garage.
"What are ya doin'?" Danny said, but not like he was scared. Just curious. Just wondering if Justin was going to do it again.
"I'm taking the day off," Justin said, and closed his eyes.
16.
"You said that? You were a smart-ass little kid." Lance leaned back against the booth and swirled his beer around in the mug. "Did you even know what you meant?"
Justin smirked into his glass. "I think he got the point."
"Yeah," Lance drawled into two syllables, rolling his eyes. "Havin' a tongue down your throat usually makes things pretty --"
"Shut up." But Justin laughed, and Lance smiled across the table.
There was dancing, and more drinking, and Joey threw him over his shoulder at one point and he almost kicked JC in the face. And when he lost his balance and fell against the hotel wall, and Lance was there in the way, in between the cool plaster and his own hot face, he didn't have to be a smart-ass.
17.
Usually they didn't. There was Lou, and there were photographers, and their moms were always there. And mostly there was work, and they both were close enough to making it to be terrified of fucking things up. They were old enough to know that much.
So usually he didn't, but sometimes Lance did, anyway. Another club that half of them weren't old enough to get into, stronger drinks, and a guy Lance knew from somewhere. Some girl of Joey's, too, and one of JC's roommates, but still. Caleb had this whole theory about birthdays, about arrested development, he said, but not like the band.
"It's like dog years," Caleb said. "You start over when you, you know. The first time." And he laughed like someone who'd had four screwdrivers and Lance looked at Justin instead.
"That's not really like dog years," Chris said, and JC and Justin laughed. Lance tried not to, and then he said something to Caleb and Caleb left in a huff and Justin tried not to smile.
Justin's mom was asleep upstairs so they were quiet on the couch, and after Justin jerked off Lance, Lance slid to his knees and kissed Justin's stomach.
"I like being your vacation," Lance said, looking up through his lashes. Justin saw his own bellybutton hitch and closed his eyes. He thought maybe Lance had learned some things when Justin hadn't been, and he decided just to be glad that Caleb was good for something instead of feeling sad. No being sad on the birthday. No being sad while Lance did that, right there, that little licking thing, that was just, it was, it was like a whole fucking summer hiatus of a blow job and Justin hissed through his teeth when he came.
"Shhhhh," Lance whispered, crawling up his body, kissing him quiet.
18.
Britney insisted.
"What'd you do last year, anyway?" she asked in the limo on the way to dinner. She said it like he hadn't really existed before them.
"Nuthin'," he said automatically. He swallowed and tasted the cleaner he and Lance had used on his mom's couch as the sun came up. Justin had finally collapsed on the floor, head tilted back against the cushion, and Lance had laid his head in Justin's lap.
His mom had called Britney's two days after his half-birthday, right after she stopped asking him why and just called Diane. Diane already knew. Justin heard Lance saying, "We get, like, half a day, right?" in his head and cranked up the stereo even though Brit looked annoyed.
"It was your birthday, J, you didn't go out?" She frowned a little and played with the necklace. Justin guessed giving presents on your own birthday was more reliable, anyway. She said his was coming later.
"You look really beautiful, baby," he said, and she smiled a little. "I just went out with the guys, I guess," he said, and she squeezed his hand.
Cameras flashing and it was just another working day.
19.
Justin insisted.
"We can have lunch," he said, and she hung up on him. It had taken five drawn-out long-distance calls and one cross-country flight to meet her on tour before she heard what he'd been saying. He'd blinked against the bright lights and mirrors and said, "It was always a set-up, Brit, and it's fine, we don't have to change how we are around people." She'd hit him and he'd left, and when he'd called about his birthday, she'd asked where he wanted to have dinner like they'd never talked at all.
Lance was having a party for his big television debut, and after the fifth time through the episode, the drinking game had laid to waste most of the guests. They got in the hot tub.
"What'd you do today?" Lance asked, more than a little drunk himself.
"Beach," Justin said.
"Mmm," Lance said, rolling his neck out and sighing. He closed his eyes and swallowed, stretching the skin tight across his Adam's apple. "Meet anyone?"
"Didn't look."
Lance's eyes opened. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, birthday boy."
Justin wasn't sure at all. He bit his lip and stared at one of the jets. He said, "Brit and I broke up."
"Oh," Lance said. "I'm sorry?"
Justin looked up, shaking his head. "No, it was, I broke up with her. A lot."
"Oh," Lance chuckled. "Okay. And now you want --"
"I still have to, in public, we still have to. Go out." Lance blinked really deliberately like he always did when he didn't like the answer, and Justin sighed. "It's after midnight anyway," he said.
Lance pushed off his side of the hot tub and squared Justin's back against a hot pulsing rush of water. "Comp time," Lance said, licking Justin's nose.
Lance pulled Justin's swim trunks off and over Lance's shoulder Justin could see them bobbing on the surface of the tub, a bloated red island under the deck lights. And then Lance's hand was between the jets and Justin's body, and then in him, and then his legs were squeezed tight around Lance's waist and he closed his eyes.
"We work," Lance grunted against his shoulder, and Justin moaned. "We work. Too hard."
"Yeah," Justin breathed, and then, "Lance, yeah, we, fuck." His fingers slipped on the rim of the hot tub and he pushed up against Lance, stretching his arms out, biceps screaming, clawing and falling back down and when he came he yelled Lance's name. Lance moaned into Justin's hair and slumped against him.
There was some kind of a crash from inside the house and Lance groaned and pulled out slowly, but didn't reach for Justin's trunks.
"At least we work together," Lance said, face split wide with a grin. Justin laughed so hard his gut hurt like his arms, and then Lance kissed him again and he didn't care.
Justin wanted to get clean and taste Lance without the chlorine, so they found towels and climbed up the back stairs and Justin decided he would pay for whatever got broken because he'd been the one to take Lance away from the party. Lance washed Justin's hair in the big glass shower and Justin said, "Does this mean I have to start the counting over?"
Lance shook his head, puzzled.
"Dog years," Justin said. "Queer years, whatever. Does Brit mean I'm all newborn and shit again?"
Lance bent his neck and nipped at Justin's collarbone where he'd let a mark earlier. "You want to count starting now?"
"No," Justin said. "I want to start when we started."
"Hmmm," Lance said against Justin's neck. "Maybe if you, like, subtract a year."
Justin ran his hands over Lance's back, long spine like a ribbon. "Time off for bad behavior?"
"You ain't seen bad behavior yet, little boy," Lance said, but started giggling halfway through the sentence. "You're, that makes you, you're like two, Jesus. We gotta talk about something else or I'm never gonna be able to fuck you again tonight."
Lance fucked him again. Justin insisted.
20.
Justin lived a year like it was his birthday and it turned out the world didn't end. His mom got over it. Johnny got over it. Chris got over it.
Twenty was a stupid birthday. "You don't get anything for being twenty except to officially stop being a teenager," he whined.
"You get me," Lance said.
That he did. That he really really did, and he said, "Don't be a smart-ass," but then he took Lance to bed anyway.
21.
"Lance, I thought you were the one who was supposed to be able to fucking count," Chris said.
JC looked from Justin to Lance and back again and smiled. JC remembered the strangest things.
They were three days early because his publicist and Britney's had been in hyperdrive all fucking year. Joey and JC and Chris had invited themselves over and Justin tried to remember what it felt like to have birthdays without them. They spent all their days off together in one combination or another, the real world ruined for them by the giddy hilarity of a couple thousand consecutive days on the road, in the studio, in the backyard with a football and their friends.
JC dimmed the lights and Lance put his arm around Justin.
"There are five candles," Justin said, low, but Chris still heard him.
"Yeah, you know, of all the ones to get right, Bass, this is kind of a big one. I mean, your boyfriend can finally legally get drunk and you're putting him back in kindergarten, and that's just fucked up on so many --"
Justin looked away from Lance's eyes and JC's hand was over Chris' mouth.
"There are five," he said again, looking back.
"Time off for good behavior," Lance said.
END
Credits: I love my co-Tiff like she loves the little lambs. This birthday fic's for her.