Tequila
by Shine

There was something wrong about the fact that Lance was the only one of them who could hold his liquor.

Chris had him pegged all wrong, the first time he saw him, with his unobtrusive yet ever-present cross and his Sunday-school haircut, and his polite soft-spoken manner. Words like 'hick' and 'rube' immediately came to mind, and Chris was looking forward to getting him away from his mother and corrupting him, a little. He and Joey had a plan to take Lance out the first chance they could, get him drunk, and get him laid. You know, make him into 'one of the guys.'

Only, it was almost impossible to tell when Lance was drunk. He'd get quieter, sure, but it was almost like he got even _more_ responsible, instead of less. He seemed to have this internal switch that clicked in after two or three drinks and warned that trouble was imminent, and adding more alcohol after he hit that point didn't have any effect. The three of them managed to get through a truly heroic amount of alcohol, and at the end of the night Lance only barely slurred his words, and he didn't fall over - he didn't even throw up.

Chris was pretty sure Lance and his freaky metabolism - like a reverse Jesus, he took wine and changed it into water - was the reason he'd awakened the next morning in his own hotel room, instead of a German gutter somewhere. He still wasn't sure why Joey had been naked in the bed beside him, or where his clothes were, and he just really preferred to not even _consider_ why there was a big hickey on his neck when he went in the bathroom to shave his tongue.

It was just better that way.

You couldn't so much as open up a bottle of cough syrup around Justin, and he was looped. He got all liquid, and silly, and he giggled a lot - or, to be precise, a lot _more_. Justin was a really fun drunk - he'd get huggy, and snuggly, and he'd flirt with you and tell you how pretty you were and how much he loved you, so if any of them started to feel a little lonely, or unloved, or hit a point of low self-esteem, they usually bought a bottle of nice red wine and went to see Justin. Joey admitted that he felt a little guilty about using Justin that way, especially since Justin was only sixteen, but Lance pointed out that it wasn't like they were doing anything _bad_ to him - they never dressed him up in girl's clothing and took pictures of him, or slept with him when he was drunk. They didn't even let him drink all that much. They just took advantage of Justin's relaxed sense of personal space, that's all. Chris loved the logical side of drunken-Lance.

JC had a breaking point - you could get him just _so_ drunk, and he'd be happy, and he'd dance, and do silly things. One drink past that point, and you had a mean, belligerent, sullen man on your hands, more likely to take a swing at you than fall into your arms. They all kept an eye on JC, and watered his drinks whenever he got too close to the mean-drunk stage.

Chris had the idea that JC knew that about himself, and kept himself cool, for the most part. JC usually danced a lot when they went out, and drank much more slowly than anyone else. Once, JC had even asked Chris if he thought he might have a problem, but Chris said no, he didn't; just the fact that JC _asked_ seemed to signal that he was aware of his own limitations.

Joey was Chris's drinking bud - they could match each other drink for drink, and when they got drunk enough, they usually talked each other into hitting on _the_ most unavailable woman in whatever bar they were in, whether she was a six-foot blonde supermodel type, or a cute little redhead with a jarhead boyfriend, or even an obviously butch lesbian with a shaved head and dog collar.

That was the good thing about going out to drink with your best friend - you always knew that he had your back. Joey was the one who nearly got his head taken off by the ex-Marine while Chris was busy getting the redhead's phone number, and Chris repaid the favour by going up to Joey and kissing him on the mouth when the lesbian looked as though she was two seconds away from kicking his ass. They all laughed about Joey's 'poor German' and got the address of a couple of great gay clubs in the area before they got the hell out of there.

Chris didn't question the couple of times that he'd awakened with a hangover and Joey in his bed; he figured that they'd just gotten drunk and sentimental for something - for warmth, or companionship, or someone who sounded like home. Germany was a fuck of a long way from Florida, after all, and Chris had slept with enough women in his life to be pretty sure that he wasn't gay. Joey never mentioned anything, either, in the mornings, so Chris was sure that it was fine. It was Joey; everything had to be fine.

They didn't always go out. Sometimes they were just too tired to go to the trouble of getting dressed and showered and prettified to go hit on some women who would probably shoot them down all night. Sometimes Chris refused to go with them, grumbling about his bandmates' collective 'lazy asses' who couldn't be bothered to learn anything but the most rudimentary German, enough to order a beer and a taxi and get a phone number. So, they'd pool their money and go buy something to drink and bring it back to the hotel room, beer or wine or, on occasion, something more exotic. Chris favoured rum or rye, but it wasn't always easy to come by, and you had to buy something to mix it with so it was often a hell of a lot more expensive than a case of local beer or JC's favourite red wine. They saved tequila for extra-special occasions, like Chris's 26th birthday.

They had two concerts that day, so they were all collectively wiped out, and going out wasn't something Chris even brought up. He was bummed about not being home, about being in a foreign country on his _birthday_, about being another damn year older and still not world-famous, and he just wanted to go to bed and sleep until he was twenty-seven.

But Joey kept grinning at him all the while Chris bitched and moaned, and when Lance trooped in with a cake and Justin a handful of balloons and JC produced not one but _two_ bottles of tequila, Chris felt like an ass and wanted to kiss them all - and did, even though Lance went red and nearly dropped the cake on the floor.

Chris blew out the candles and Joey chased him around with a piece of cake, pinning him in the corner and plastering it into his face like a bride, while JC laughed till tears ran down his face and Justin called them both idiots and Lance just smiled and shook his wiser-than-his-years head at the lot of them.

Within an hour most of the cake was gone, and so was one bottle of the tequila. Nobody copped to the worm, although it, too, disappeared, and Joey opened the second bottle and they passed it lazily around. The radio was on low in the background, and Justin and JC were slow-dancing, much closer to each other than they would ever have been if they weren't slightly drunk, and Chris was lying on his back on his bed, watching them upside-down, and wondering what the hell was going on.

"Hey," Joey said, holding the bottle out. "Want some more?"

"Yeah," Chris said, and tipped the bottle up without moving. "Fuck!" he said, when he couldn't stop the flow of tequila.

Joey laughed and quickly pulled him upright. "Ass," he said, righting the bottle carefully with most of its contents still inside and handing it off to Lance. He wiped at Chris's neck with his hand, licking his tequila-wet fingers off. His tongue curled around his fingers carefully, then drew them into his mouth, and Chris was entranced.

"Mm," Chris said, the sweet-sharp scent of tequila filling his head and making him dizzy. He ducked his head, blindly licked one of Joey's fingers where it vanished into Joey's mouth, then pulled back when he realized what he'd just done.

Joey was still smiling at him.

Chris felt his face go hot. "Uh," he said.

Joey pulled his fingrs out of his mouth, and grinned.

Chris squinted at him. "Joey?"

Joey looked as innocent as it was possible for him to look - which wasn't too damn innocent, Chris know him _way_ too well for that to work.

"What are you doing?"

If possible, the Look Of Innocence went up a notch. "Me?" He pulled Chris's hand up from where it had hooked into Joey's belt - and Chris started when he realized where his traitorous hand had ventured - and took the index finger into his mouth. Bent his tongue around it, rubbing sleekly. Set his teeth _ever_ so carefully, just below the knuckle.

And sucked hard.

Chris shuddered, and felt blood leave his brain and pool somewhere below his belt - then felt something else below his belt, something broad and warm and strong, delicately pressing against his cock, and rubbing slow circles through the fabric. Joey's hand. He whimpered, and gasped, "wait," casting a quick look to see what the rest of them were doing - after all, they were in _public_, for crying out loud.

And blinked.

JC and Justin had progressed from slow-dancing to fucking in place, all tequila-loose and fluid sexuality and pretty as a picture. Justin was twined around JC, one hand sliding down his back to cup his ass, while JC purred and threw his head back, grinding his pelvis against Justin. Justin groaned quietly, and pushed a leg between JC's thighs.

Lance had moved from the bed, and was standing now - still separate from the two of them, but his gaze was dark and slow and intense and unwavering. As Chris watched Lance reached out a hand and stroked it down JC's spine to meet Justin's hand on his ass. Justin's fingers gripped his momentarily, and then Lance was moving down to JC's spread ass, rubbing long fingers along the tight curve, the clean line of the cleft, and JC was whimpering and pushing back into his touch.

"See," Joey whispered, licking up the length of Chris's palm in a long hot sweep, and nipping at the tender skin of his wrist. "They aren't paying any attention to us."

Chris shuddered, and felt Joey mouth his fingers again, licking around them and suckling, and it was too weird, but it was good, it was very good, Joey always was the fucking best at cocksucking so it was no surprise that he was practically getting Chris to come in his pants just by blowing his fingers -

And where the _fuck_ had that come from? Chris jerked back and stared at Joey's familiar face, the flush of arousal strong along his cheeks, his eyes dark and electric. Joey's touch was an energized rush of electricity along his skin, and Chris was drunk on it, even as his mind worked frantically to figure out what was going on.

How did he know how Joey was at cocksucking?

And did it really matter when right now Joey was pulling his zipper down and sliding a hand into his pants and that wonderful fabulous calloused hand was closing around his aching cock, and his fingers were wet and hot in Joey's mouth and he felt, from fingers to toes, like one giant raw exposed nerve ending, singing in pleasure whenever Joey touched him. Tension coiled in his back and thighs and his free hand fisted in Joey's t-shirt, pulling him closer.

"That wasn't - actually what I was thinking about," Chris managed, and felt something tighten in his chest as a single finger slid down the shaft to trace circles across the sensitive skin of his balls. Something fizzed in his brain with an incandescent pop, and he thought it might just be his common sense. This was unreal. He was straight. _Joey_ was straight. They were both straight, together, which meant Joey should not be doing that thing with his tongue, or that thing with his hand, or that _other_ thing with his hand, which Chris only discovered when Joey's free hand pushed underneath his shirt and began to pull at his nipples. "Oh _fuck_" he yelped, and bucked and came hard, and the world went white for a while.

When he came back to himself, Joey was sprawled out on the bed, wrapped around him, jacking himself slowly as he rested his head on Chris's shoulder and watched intently something happening on the other side of the room. Cello groans and the occasional tenor cry were heavy in the air, and Chris had a fairly good idea of what might have captivated Joey's attention so thoroughly.

"Justin fucking JC?" he whispered, and sent a hand down to nudge Joey's out of the way, taking over the smooth pull-and-glide on the hot, quivering flesh. Joey arched and moaned, and pushed his head into Chris's shoulder. In his mind he could see them, JC flat on his back, Justin moving over him like a live wire, Lance coiled around them and jerking off just...like...Joey...he shuddered and squeezed Joey harder. Joey moaned.

"Nope," Joey managed, biting at Chris through his t-shirt. Chris could hear the grin in his voice. "Lance fucking Justin."

"Oh _man_," Chris said, shivering, grinning at the ceiling while the images in his head rearranged to accommodate the new information. Lance, the solid muscular line of him pumping slowly into Justin, as Justin twisted and gasped and whined beneath him, his usual arrogance dispensed with by Lance's slow, steady movement. JC was there too, and that was enough to make pleasure spark along the pathways of his nerves and he felt himself getting hard again.

He didn't even try and figure out how this had happened, how he'd gone from tequila and straightness to - this, not all that drunk, really, and jerking Joey off to the rich sounds of their friends fucking. He just closed his eyes and breathed deep, and when Joey's fucking talented hand returned to him, he arched up and yelled and felt wetness against his side where Joey came.

The sounds from the other bed twisted and redoubled, reached a peak, and Chris heard Lance growl so deep he felt it rumble up from the bed. Justin sobbed something, and JC laughed breathlessly. Then silence.

Utter silence.

Finally, someone moved on the other bed. Lance appeared in Chris's line of sight. "Come on," he said, looking no more drunk than he ever did, the bastard. "You need to move." He grabbed Chris's arm and hauled him up, forcing Joey to get up as well. "Get under the covers."

Chris grumbled but obeyed, and Joey followed, a familiar hand on his hip as he steadied himself. Chris found himself bracing himself to take Joey's weight automatically, and sighed - man. He and Joey had some serious talking to do about this in the morning. On the other bed, Justin was sprawled in a naked tangle of sated limbs, JC stretched over him and chewing at his neck with a happy expression on his face. Justin was looking pretty damn happy himself, all things considered. And Lance -

Lance was grinning at them.

"So, you think you'll remember anything this time?" he said casually, as Chris and Joey fell into the bed and Lance pulled the covers up over them. Chris looked at him narrowly, and Lance laughed. Lance was, possibly, poster boy for the Smug And Sated fanclub, Chris decided. Bastard.

Beside him, Joey chuckled, and a strong arm pulled him close.

Chris figured he just might remember it at that.

Fin