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Adjusting	By : Bia Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 7351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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It was only the persistent knocking that dragged him out of his stupor. He considered ignoring it. But if it's one of the guys, they won't take the hint.

"Jayce, I know you're in there," hollered Chris.

JC grimaced. Chris definitely wouldn't take the hint. He stubbornly persisted in being oblivious to subtlety. JC reluctantly climbed from his haven. Knowing he wouldn't be heard if he tried to yell. His throat felt too sore for that. Approaching the door warily, as if some monster lurked on the other side. "What do you want Chris," he asked, pressed against the door after assuring himself the security lock was firmly in place. "I'm not up for company right now."

On the other side of the door, he heard Chris's dramatic sigh. "You've been in there all day. I-we decided that you shouldn't be left to brood. We want you to come out with us."

JC nearly panicked at the thought. "No, Chris. I'm staying in tonight," he said as firmly as he could. Hoping against hope that would be enough.

"I think not," insisted Chris. "I'm not letting you sit here and mope over the infant and the home-wrecker."

JC could almost see Chris's brow furrowing as he paused. "And why are we talking through the goddamn door? Open up. Don't make me get Lonnie."

JC sighed, tugging at the collar unconsciously. He slowly opened the door leaving the chain on. "Chris," he said softly, praying his voice didn't sound as bad as he thought.

Chris frowned catching sight of JC's flushed cheeks. "Hey, you're not sick are you? You haven't made yourself ill over this thing with the infant have you? If you're taking it this bad we can stay in tonight with you."

JC quickly shook his head. "No," he nearly shouted, voice cracking under the strain. "I just woke up. Justin had turned the heat on last night. Despite all the blankets."

Chris nodded at the statement. The infant had a habit of always turning the heat on no matter how warm it was. "In that case you can come out with us."

"I really don't feel like being around happy couples," muttered JC.

"Ah, I thought of that," said Chris bouncing. "There's an Anti-Valentine's bash. You can go and mingle with all the other bitter single losers. Hopefully, find someone other than the infant to get laid with."

JC shuddered at the thought of actually letting another person touch him. Not after Justin. He shook his head vehemently at the thought.

Chris rolled his eyes. He really didn't understand JC's devotion to the infant. Not with all the crap with Britney, Justin was putting him through. Ah well, it was his decision. Of course, if he could help him make a different one. "Fine. But you are going out tonight. Don't make me have Lonnie drag your scrawny ass out."

"Chris," he protested weakly.

Chris waved his hand through the air. "Don't wanna hear it. You're not sick. You're going out." His gaze narrowed. "Or we can stay in with you."

JC sighed. "Fine."

Chris didn't like the quick capitulation. "Promise."

"I promise," he sighed. There was no liquor in the hotel room. At least not enough for the oblivion he needed.

"Good. And don't think you'll worm your way outta this. Lonnie and I are in cahoots," said Chris. "You'll be going out tonight."

JC hung his head, but nodded.

"Later," called Chris, bouncing off.

Em stalked by the bouncer. His displeasure evident. He was here per Dre's orders. But that didn't mean he felt like dealing with muthafuckers tonight. No. He was going to park himself at the bar. And the first prick to start something was getting his ass beat.

The crowd was large; the club was bumping. Decorations fitting the parties theme were settled discretely here and there. Black hearts with poison daggers plunged into them were strung across the ceiling. Some enterprising soul had strung a banner from the balcony with the legend, 'Fuck Valentine's Day'.

Em didn't see any of this. No, his attention was focused on the man at the bar. Chasez. Em stilled, gaze narrowing as he searched the crowd for Timberlake. He knew he wouldn't have to look far. If he were here he'd be somewhere he could keep an eye on his lover. After a few minutes he was satisfied the fucker wasn't here. He couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not. Dismissing Timberlake, he made a beeline for Chasez. He'd have been insulted if someone had said as much, but that's what he did. Once there he paused, taking a long look at Chasez. The kid looked like twenty miles of bad road. Stubble lined the slender jaw, and he was once again wearing the shades. He sat hunched over his shot glass; one had clutching the neck of the J.D. bottle before him. Em frowned eyeing the two empty bottles to the left of the kid. He hoped he hadn't actually finished them by himself. 'Cause judging by the third half-empty bottle he was well on his way to alcohol poisoning.

Em dropped into the seat beside him. The bartender appeared before him seconds later. "Goose, leave the bottle." He didn't say anything, just poured himself a shot. In the huge mirror behind the bar, he could see Rick and Switch, lurking behind him. He turned shooting them a frown. The bodyguards backed off. The kid turned in his seat, and Em turned his head to meet the gaze. Scowling in frustration at the shades hiding the kid's eyes.

JC shifted on the stool. He knew someone was watching him. He knew it wasn't Justin, so he didn't really give a fuck who it was. He nearly laughed when he realized it was EmfuckingEm. Just what the fuck he needed.

"I am so fucked," he slurred. Then took another shot. The burn soothing his throat.

Em winced at the despair in the kid's voice. He wondered what had happened to finally push Chasez over the edge. The kid's head tipped back as he downed what was obviously only one of many shots. A glimmer caught Em's eye; a recent memory swam to the surface. His hand darted out; before he'd thought he was reaching for the kid's throat. He all ready knew what he'd find. He grimaced in disgust at the bruises beneath the make-up. Slim reared his head. No one hurt one of his people. He stilled as Chasez leapt away from him, scrambling back like a kicked dog.

"What the fuck happened," growled Em, sitting back. Trying to appear harmless. The kid settled slowly. Em was pretty sure he wouldn't have if he'd been less drunk. And intent on getting drunker.

"What the fuck do you think happened," snarled JC, voice hoarse from the whiskey and other things. He poured himself another shot.

"Justin."

Both men knew it wasn't a question.

"Yeah, Justin," hissed JC, tossing back the shot. "You know this is your fault. If you hadn't started shit, I wouldn't have been thinking 'bout it. I wouldn't have said no."

Em was silent for a long moment. A million thoughts fighting for dominance in his head. For the kid's sake he hoped it wasn't what he thought. Finally he spoke, "Said no to what?"

JC shot him a look that screamed, what-do-you-think-you-fucking-idiot? "Here's a hint. His dick and my ass," slurred JC as he took another drink. Working steadily toward oblivion.

In the dark of the club, blue eyes hardened like ice. 'I'ma kill that muthafucka' howled Slim, baying for blood. Em seethed silently as he fought to reign in his temper. He poured, and downed three shots in quick succession. Needing the burn to clear the red haze. When he could speak without degenerating into curses, he turned to the kid. "What are you gonna do?" he asked, voice cold as midnight on a winter night in Detroit. Not that it mattered the kid was coming with him. No matter what.

JC shot him another look. This one implied his mother had been inbreeding. "What the fuck can I do? There is nothing I can do. This is my life," he snapped.

He motioned for the bartender. The man lifted a brow. The kid lowered his shades, eyes narrowing at the man. The bartender's gaze shot to Em, and then the empties beside the kid, but he brought another bottle. The glasses went back up.

"A life that was perfect until you fucked it up. If I hadn't had your shit in my head, I wouldn't have questioned Justin," hissed JC, finger jabbing at his chest. Em thought it might have hurt if the kid had actually made contact. "This wouldn't have happened. I'd still be blissfully unaware and happy."

"Bullshit," snarled Em. He turned to face the kid head on. He could hear the desperation in Chasez's voice. Knew the kid was clinging to any shred of hope. But it was time he faced reality. Way past it. "That fucker is abusive. And this," he paused, waving a hand at him. "This is only the beginning."

JC looked up from his drink, the shades sliding down his nose. Em's gaze darkening at the desolation in the kid's. He suddenly wanted to wrap the kid up, and tuck him somewhere far away from the world. Slim grunted in disgust at the thought. What he needed to do was administer a righteous ass kicking to Timberfuck.

"Don't you think I know that," cried JC, blue gaze black in the darkness, filled with misery. Em barely dodged the out flung arm. "But I'm under contract. I can't just say fuck this and walk away. Even if I could, N'sync is not just my career. It's my family. My life. I have nothing else."

Em glanced around the bar, making sure they weren't attracting undue attention. He could see the kid was beginning to get emotional. He was getting louder with every word. If his throat hadn't been so bruised Em was sure he'd be screaming. Not that he didn't have a reason. "And Justin," growled Em,

"Justin," said JC, giving a hysterical giggle. "Justin's never going to let me go." The kid bypassed the shot glass, downing the last of the open bottle in three long pulls.

"If you could get away, would you?" asked Em, tugging the fourth bottle away before Chasez could pry it open. Though he was pretty sure it would have taken dexterity the kid currently lacked.

JC stared at him. "What do you think? But there's nowhere for me to go. My parent's don't even know I'm gay," he yelled.

Em stiffened, as the words seemed to echo through the air. His head shot up, and he studied the crowd wondering if anyone had heard Chasez. Thankfully, there weren't any people near them. Though the bartender was eyeing them. "Look, kid. This ain't the place for this. C'mon," said Em, standing as he threw down a couple of bills.

JC eyed him blearily. He was too wasted to think about the strangeness of the situation. All he knew was that Em had his bottle. "You gonna give me my liquor if I do."

Em glanced down at the forgotten bottle. "Yeah, when we get outta here."

JC shrugged, standing. He blinked as the world swayed around him.

Em shot out a hand to steady him. Chasez flinched away nearly falling on his ass. Em grabbed his forearm, purposefully steering clear of the bruised wrists. Not giving the kid time to protest, he steered them through the crowd. Relieved when Chasez followed without too much prompting. As they moved through the dark club, Em wondered just what the hell he was doing. This wasn't like him. Not really. Okay, yeah he got protective but generally it was only over family or his crew. The kid wasn't family. He sure as he wasn't crew. So what was he? He looked back at Chasez. Someone who needs you, Em thought finally. There weren't many people who needed him.

JC followed blindly behind the shorter blond. The alcohol giving him a lovely buzz. His eyes were focused on the bottle, the fact that he never thought about just going back and ordering another one a testament to how drunk he was. He glided along the path the rapper cut through the crowd.

It wasn't long before the two of them reached the main doors.

The cool February breeze hit him full in the face as they stepped outside. JC blinked as the night air swirled around him, and sobriety tried to rear its ugly head.

Em wanted to get the two of them away before Chasez's or his bodyguards caught up with them. He knew if they took the limo, security would be on them in seconds. He wasn't quite ready to be caught fraternizing with a boy bander just yet. So a cab it was. Parking the kid in an out of the way corner, he scanned the streets for a cab. Spotting an approaching taxi, he backtracked to the kid, herding him forward until they were at the curb. When the cab pulled to a stop, he moved them forward, shoving aside the guy who'd been reaching for the handle.

"Hey," squawked the stranger. Em turned his gaze to the man, shooting him a look. Eyes bright and deadly. The guy quieted, backing away.

JC stiffened as he glanced from the man to backing off to Em. The night air finally starting to clear his head. He made to back away. What the fuck was he thinking going off with Eminem?

Slim could see the kid getting ready to balk. With a low snarl, he shoved the kid into the open cab. Muttering about idiot boy banders as he climbed in after him.

JC scrambled up as Em settled onto the seat beside him. He stared belligerently at the rapper. Em snorted it was a fine time for him to remember he had a spine. "Where are we going?" he asked eying the bottle Em still had.

"My place," answered Em, rolling down the window. He looked at the bottle, giving a wistful sigh, then tossed it out the window.

JC's eyes widened in disbelief, tinged with rage. That was his liquor. "What the fuck you do that for?"

"I don't need your ass dying of alcohol poisoning," snapped Em.

JC frowned, a sullen pout settling on his face. Em wanted to snicker the kid suddenly looked like a toddler in a snit. Then the glasses slid back down his nose, and the urge to laugh vanished. The eyes were desperate. "What's it to you?"

Em shrugged, "Like I said, never could stand to see a guy getting kicked while all ready down."

JC couldn't be bothered to protest. He was too tired. And he just might be drunk. 'Cause suddenly there were two, no make that three Ems. “So what's next?"

"You're taking a break. You need to get your shit together. Maybe see a shrink," said Em, leaning back against the seat. "You can use mine. She ain’t doing much for me, as I don’t have any issues. But hell she might do you some good."

JC slumped back onto the seat. "I don't have issues," he muttered.

Em snorted, loudly. "Yeah, right. Anyway, who do you need to call to do this?"

The colors streaming by the cab windows were mesmerizing. JC stared at them as they streamed by.

"Chasez!"

JC jumped, then blinked. "Normally, Chris. But Lance would be best. He does all that business stuff. And he won't really question me."

When after several minutes the kid still hadn't moved, Em leaned over and dug the cell phone out of his pocket. He idly noted how fragile Chasez seemed despite the obvious strength in the wiry frame. "Call," he snapped, holding out the phone.

JC fumbled with the phone for several seconds, until he could get it to stay still. He glared at the numbers until they came into focus. He hit speed dial two. He tucked the phone beneath his ear; it slid down his shoulders. He did it again. Again it slid away. He stared at it.

Em sighed, snatching the phone and holding it to the kid's ear. JC peered up at him from beneath lowered lids, suspiciously. He only stopped when Lance's voice echoed in his ear.

"Hey, Lancey. Poofu," he sang into the phone.

Em snickered.

JC stuck out his tongue, his eyes crossing as he tried to see it.

'Jayce. Jayce. You still there?'

Em nudged him. JC hissed, but refocused on the phone. "Uh, Lance. I'ma take a break. Okay, buh-bye."

"A break, Jayce? What are you talking about? Where are you? What's going on? Are you drunk? Jayce?"

JC turned a slightly fuzzy gaze on Em at the barrage of questions. Questions he didn't know how to answer. "I don't know. I gotta ask Em."

Em groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just tell him, you're going to a friend's for awhile. And you'll call later."

JC nodded, then moaned as his head spun. "Met a guy. I'ma hang with him for a while. Call you later. Kay, buh-bye."

'Jayce...'

Em hung up before the kid could say anything more incriminating.

JC stared up at him guilelessly. Eyes wide, pupils dilated. Drunk as hell. Em grumbled but couldn't find it in him to yell at the kid.

It wasn't long before they were pulling into the gated community where he lived. He paid the cabbie, one arm wrapped around Chasez's waist when he started to sway dangerously. Half carrying, half supporting the younger man, he made his way to the garage. He hit the entry button, ushering Chasez inside. Opening the Explorer's back door, he set the kid inside. "You sit. Stay. Don't move. I'll be back, then we're gone."

JC blinked owlishly, up at him from where he'd sprawled across the back seat. Em rolled his eyes, nudging him all the way into the car until he could close the door. "Go to sleep."

By the time he'd gotten Hailie and a couple of bags packed almost twenty minutes had passed. Hailie tucked up in his arms he made his way back to the garage. He buckled Hailie into the front seat. Moved around the back, tossing the bags into the trunk. He climbed into the driver's seat. Starting the engine, he glanced out the rear window, backing out of the driveway.

On the street he paused, glancing into the back. The kid would have looked as innocent as Hailie, if it weren't for the ring of bruises around his neck. Face flushed, clothes and hair rumpled, he looked like a child who'd cried himself to sleep. A part of him that had only ever cared for Hailie this deeply suddenly ached. He frowned, shoving the feeling aside for later, and drove off.
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