Everybody Hurts
Copyright © 2001 Em

So Joey liked to read. It would come as a surprise to those who willingly pigeonholed him into the category of "the dumb one" -- and he was fine with that, really -- but Joey had a determination to keep himself well-read, to keep himself abreast of current events. Being isolated all the time, separated from reality by bodyguards and superfluous entourages, didn't mean that the world was not still going on around the group known as *NSYNC. So Joey liked to read; two, three different newspapers some days, when he had the time. He read the reviews, he followed the trends; he even knew what was going on in the Middle East, though his attempts to bring it up in conversation often won him stares and the occasional "where'd you find this stuff out, Joe?" from Lance.

But it was during his semi-regular newspaper ritual that Joey skimmed the New York Post's Page 6 column, searching for some ridiculous celebrity gossip to laugh about with the guys later -- maybe Jennifer Love Hewitt was getting her breasts insured or something -- and stumbled upon something that he was sure the others didn't need to see.

Which studly boy-band member hooked up with a hunky publicist at the party William Morris threw at the Synergy Spa at Sundance? After several drinks, the pop star and his pal went into one of the rooms and had a quickie while his bodyguard watched the door - denying entry to the person staying there. Since then, the singer has been calling the guy trying to arrange other trysts, to no avail.

What the hell, Joey thought, his jaw going slack in surprise, stunned by the bold claims of the column. He checked the date; the paper talked about Sundance, which dated it considerably, but he had heard nothing of this, least of all from Lance. Obviously PR hadn't thought it worth commenting on, since the New York Post's page 6 news was still gossip and its claims were unverifiable. But still....

Frowning, he stood from where he sat in the suite and headed for his room; the room he and Lance didn't share but occasionally slept in. He continued to stare at the words on the page as if he could change them; then, glancing up, he watched Lance where he lay stretched out on the sofa, head resting over the edge as he watched TV with Justin and JC.

"Hey, uh... Lance?" he nodded his head towards the door, beckoning with his hand. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Oh, yeah; sure," Lance came willingly, rolling off of the couch and making his way across the room to join him. He looked completely oblivious, and Joey chastised himself for thinking there might be a shred of truth in the article. He certainly knew better than that; there was no way that Lance would know anything about this. Then Joey'd apologize and they could laugh about it, and maybe Lance would spend the night, too, and they'd make that last; nothing like a quickie at all. "What is it?" Lance asked him, meeting him by the desk table and jolting him from his thoughts.

He tried playing it cool. "Um, yeah," Joey said off-handedly, pulling the paper out from underneath his armpit. "I was just wonderin' what you had to say about this." He tossed the half-folded paper down in front of him and it unfolded on the table, open to Page 6; then he folded his arms and waited.

Lance took an uneasy glance at him, then down to the paper, then back again. Joey kept his face impassive and simply stared until Lance ventured closer and peered at the indicated article. He watched the younger man's eyes sweep over the text, wanting to see the exact moment....

And there it was; the widening of eyes, the nervous flicker of eyelashes, the mouth opening in a stifled gasp, and oh, shit, Joey thought. Lance pulled back abruptly as though he'd been struck, his knees buckling, so that he plopped gracelessly rather than sat down in the chair, and averted his gaze entirely. "Um," he began, before Joey cut him off.

"Yeah, 'um'. I'm listening. It's not true?" he prompted, knowing full well by Lance's reaction that it was.

"I didn't--" Lance stammered for a moment, his eyes downcast. "I called him, like, once, and it wasn't--"

"Uh-huh," Joey shrugged, cutting him off again, not even wanting to hear Lance admit to it. "So maybe you're not as desperate as they made you sound," he conceded. "But you did fuck him, right?"

Lance looked utterly miserable. "Blow job," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Joey shook his head in disbelief. "What'd he promise you, Lance, huh?" he asked him, unfolding his arms. He rested his hands on his hips, though, not willing to let go of the mood. "That you felt the need to suck his dick. For a favor?"

He was met with a sigh of the long-suffering. "He said, um, that he's friends with a movie reviewer for the Washington Post, and--" Lance pursed his lips grimly. "I went in there to talk. Flirt, maybe. Maybe." He sighed again, rubbing at his forehead. "It's the Washington Post, Joey. We can't do better than that. I just... can't believe the asshole talked."

Joey rolled his eyes, unmoved, but forced a grin anyway. "But you oughta be happy, though," he offered lightly. "Free publicity, right? No such thing as bad press, right?"

The change in Lance's expression was unmistakable; from shame and guilt to narrow-eyed displeasure. "Yeah," he agreed, standing abruptly. "I guess I should've just relied on the press you've been getting instead." Raising his eyebrows at Joey, he sniffed once, turned, and stalked back towards the door.

Joey jogged to meet up with him before he could reach it, placing himself between the exit and Lance. "No, no; uh-uh," he warned, more agitated than simply angry now as he caught Lance by the arm. "This is not about me. You are not gonna blame me for what you did."

Lance shrugged him off. "Who said I was?" he asked innocently. "Am I wrong, or are you gettin' enough press for the both of us? And not even a blind item--"

"Anybody who reads it would know it was you--" Joey countered.

"In two weeks they'll forget it was me," Lance said hotly, his voice approaching a yell. "A baby's forever, Joey; I don't think that's hit you yet."

"This is not about me," Joey yelled back; when had he gotten so upset? he wondered. "I didn't make you whore yourself out to get a good movie review!" He gripped Lance's arm again as he spoke, but didn't know whether the blond's wince was from the action or his words. Regret washed over him mildly, briefly, and he lowered his voice to continue. "What the hell is that about, anyway?" he asked, genuinely confused. "You don't do that kind of thing-- we--" he gestured around him-- "don't do that kind of thing. For publicity? What's going on?"

Lance stared up at him, slightly wet eyes boring into Joey's own defiantly. "I'm so glad you care more that me sucking some publicist's dick made the papers than the fact that it wasn't your dick I was sucking."

Joey reeled back at that. "I care," he argued, bringing the other hand up to grip Lance's other arm. "I care that you chose a stranger to -- what? Get back at me for something? I mean..." he trailed off and simply sighed. "You know, I thought we had an understanding," he tried again. "You were there -- you agreed. You've known about Kelly and everything else; you said it was okay. You said 'congratulations'. You said--"

"I lied," Lance said quietly, shrugging, his muscles bunching beneath Joey's hands.

Joey blinked. Shook his head free of the cobwebs. "What?"

"I said, 'I lied'," Lance repeated, louder this time. "It's not okay. I've looked the other way with all those girls; I've tried to forget, tried not to think about it -- I've been nice to Kelly." He shook his head slowly. "I meant it when I said I wished you well, but 'okay'? There's no way in hell I'm okay with this."

Belatedly, Joey realized that he'd been digging his fingers into Lance's biceps and released his arms, letting Lance flex them gratefully. "You could've told me," he said, his voice soft with regret.

Lance just tossed his head dismissively. "She was already pregnant; wouldn't have made a difference." He paused, then added, "We all knew you were gonna do the right thing."

He supposed that they did. It had been hard enough in the first place, trying to deal with the reality of the situation, but now? Knowing that Lance had been unhappy all this time, cheapening himself -- and for what, Joey wanted to know. "So--" he backed off, giving Lance space to wander back into the room. "What, you're saying you did wanna get back at me? I don't get it; why would you...." He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off an impending headache.

"I don't know; maybe? Maybe at first, a little -- but I swear, Joey, I really just went in there to talk," Lance repeated himself sadly, his shoulders slumping as he turned back to face Joey. He reached up with a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, then brought it down the side of his face tiredly.

"He didn't--" Joey swallowed hard and closed the gap between them, bringing his hands up to rest on Lance's shoulders. "He didn't force you into anything, did he?" Not that he liked the thought of Lance doing this of his own free will, but if Lance had been coerced... he'd want the guy's number himself, to share a few choice words. And his address, maybe, if Joey were a violent person. Which he wasn't, really. But he could learn.

So he was slightly relieved when Lance shook his head. "No, just..." Lance threw up his hands. "Things happened. I didn't want them to, but they did. And he said he'd take care of things, and I wanted him to -- so bad -- because my God," his chuckle caught in his throat as he blinked rapidly. "I didn't wanna find out I did it all for nothing, you know?"

The end of the sentence came out somewhat muffled as Joey pulled Lance to him in a hug, Lance's face pressing against Joey's shoulder before he turned his head and exhaled on to Joey's collarbone. They always seemed to fit, just like that. He spread his hands out along the expanse of Lance's back, and when Lance leaned up to kiss him, his hands coming up to cup the back of Joey's head, Joey felt the smooth motion of muscles beneath his fingers and kissed back with a sudden ferocity. His lips were already parted when their lips met, Lance's tongue gliding along his teeth and thrusting against his own. It was a hungry, desperate, tremendous kiss, and they were both left gasping slightly when they parted, relaxing back into their hug.

"Is that why you didn't tell me?" Joey prodded gently after a moment, rubbing Lance's upper back in soothing circles and noting that Lance was doing the same to him. That was the rule that Lance had broken in their understanding of their relationship; not fidelity, but honesty. If Lance had wanted to mess around with a publicist he needed only say so, just as Joey was up front about the girls he slept with -- both with Lance and Kelly -- but Lance hadn't said a word, and that made things all the more serious.

Lance made a small affirmative sound against him. "I've never done that before," he added.

Joey simply nodded in response, adding and never do it again in his own mind. "So... what do we do now?"

Lance pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. "I let you and Kelly have your family, and I suck it up," he offered.

"No," Joey insisted, searching Lance's face with an intense gaze. "No, it's not gonna be like that. You're always gonna be in the picture, no matter what else happens. With the group, with the baby, with Kelly, with whatever. Why do you think I'm just gonna push you out or something?"

Lance drew his lips into a fine line. "Maybe because we have an 'understanding'," he said flatly, and suddenly Joey felt cold as realization flooded his senses. Never before had Lance expressed a desire to make things more serious between them; through their progression from 'just friends' to something more, he'd been fully accomodating of Joey's unwillingness to commit. But if Lance had thought that there was.... oh, God.

"Lance," Joey began uncertainly, feeling tension prickle up all over his skin. "I mean, if you-- I don't know if I can--"

"Joey," Lance stopped him. "I'm not gonna try to make you into something you're not; I always knew that. I'm just saying that..." he rolled his eyes, giving a tortured smile. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm saying it's gonna be okay."

Joey shook his head. "You said it wasn't."

"It's not okay," Lance corrected, "but it's gonna be okay. It hurts sometimes, but. Everybody hurts, right?"

Lowering his forehead to rest against Lance's, Joey sighed and held Lance closer to him. "I guess so, sometimes."

~Finis~

Author's Notes: Okay, I make no bones about the fact that I hope this blind item -- which did appear in the New York Post -- is false. Not because it would make Lance gay or bi -- I obviously don't have a problem with that -- but because I think that kind of behavior (having a quickie in someone else's room -- with a publicist, no less) is sort of sleazy... and then sort of sad besides, if he was trying to call the guy afterwards. That's just disturbing. So anyway, it's been bugging me for a while now, and I wanted to purge myself a little.

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