This story arose out of a fanfic challenge issued by the lovely and talented Lady of *NSYNC fanfiction fame. I still don't consider myself a fanfic author in that I never thought that I actually wrote much, but lately I am beginning to wonder. At any rate, I took her up on the challenge and here is what happened. Yes, it is trippy. But when you consider the scenario, how could it not be? I experimented a bit with my writing style for something different, too. ::shrugs::

And, before I begin, The Disclaimer:
I have no association with *NSYNC or Britney Spears, their families, management, etc. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely (partially?) coincidental.

The Challenge:
FICTION CHALLENGE #2

TOPIC: (Yeah, okay, fine. You all are KINKY PEOPLE, I tell you. Kinky people, all of you!) Three people are stuck in a box/closet/enclosed space. One has a secret that may or may not be revealed. One must be an *NSYNC member. What happens?

RULES: Story must be under 1000 words, must focus on the topic. (Word count may vary.)

The Fic:
FC#2 -- "PDA"
(Note: PDA stands for Public Display(s) of Affection)
Copyright © 2000 Em

"I think this is definitely the most bizarre situation I've ever been in," Britney said, pacing the small box.

"Oh, come on, Brit," Justin chided her. "The most bizarre?"

Britney stopped pacing and leveled a glare at him. "Well, have you ever been trapped in a box before? Because I certainly haven't."

"What would you call our tour bus, woman?" Justin asked pointedly. "Or our hotel rooms, or the limos, or the VIP rooms?"

Britney paused. He had a point. "Well," she said defensively, "those all have exits. This thing," she gestured around her, "doesn't even have a window."

Lance attempted to intervene before he became the sole survivor remaining in said box. "Hey... come on, you guys, just look at it this way. No fans in here." He grinned.

Smiles immediately settled upon the faces of his companions. "And no press," Justin murmured.

"No cameras in our faces," Britney agreed, settling her body comfortably alongside Justin's, and Lance looked the other way.

"Hell," Justin added, "No cell phones either. You know, this being trapped in a box thing is starting to look up."

"But that also means no one has any way of knowing where we are," Lance pointed out, missing his cell phone very much at that moment.

"You think Johnny is trying to get a hold of us right now?" Britney questioned, still leaning into Justin. "Probably," she answered her own question. "But even if he could call us, what would we tell him anyway? It's not like we can give him directions to the box or anything."

"Actually," Justin began suddenly, "we might have to populate this box on our own, if worse comes to worst. You know, create a whole new civilization. We may have to reproduce." This last bit was directed at Britney, as he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Lance was such a third wheel.

"Justin," Britney protested. "What would Lance do while we're doing this?"

Claw my eyes out and try to bludgeon myself to death against the wall.

"I think the whole populating-the-box thing would work a lot better if we were two women and a guy instead of the other way around," he put in, hoping to divert a little attention away from "Things you can't do with your best friend's girl #1006."

"No, I can see the two guy scenario working," Justin said thoughtfully. "It would increase the odds a bit. I mean, we've each got what, 50 million of those little swimmers, right Lance?"

Britney slapped her hand to her forehead.

"So between the two of us," Justin was saying, "One's got to score, right?"

Britney pouted a little. "You would share me with another man?" she asked in disbelief.

Justin shook his head, smiling, and wrapped his arms around her. "I was just playin', baby," he assured her, and Lance wished that he were Justin right then.

"Anyway," Britney continued, "it's stupid to worry about populating the box, because first off, there's barely room for the three of us. And second, what would we even eat? Our children?"

"Nah," Justin shrugged. "We'll eat Lance."

Lance's head snapped up and he stared at his best friend who apparently thought that "best friend" meant "that guy you hang around with all the time, unless of course you happen to be trapped in a box with him, in which case serve well-done with white wine and garnish with parsely."

"Thanks," he muttered bitterly. "I hope my body's covered with E. Coli."

Britney laughed, a sweet ringing sound, and tucked her hair behind her ear, and Lance wished that he was her hand right then.

"I wonder if the other guys are in a box too," he mused aloud. "Maybe everyone's in a box. I wonder if the world is still going on around us. I wonder if the fans miss us yet."

Justin scoffed. "The fans have already forgotten us. They've crowned JC 'the cute one' and brought someone in to do your parts. We're replaceable commodities, Lance."

"And on that positive note," Lance smirked, arching an eyebrow at the couple. "But I thought I was the irreplaceable one."

"That was before you got trapped in a box."

"Ah," Lance nodded. "Right. Forgot." He hadn't forgotten, of course. He just wanted a little recognition. Just a little bit.

Justin started rubbing the small of Britney's back, and he buried his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head, thinking that there were certainly worse things in the world than being trapped in a box with someone he loved so very much that the rest of... well, everything... seemed to fall away and simply leave the two of them.

Lance watched them, unable to tear his eyes away--

Tear them away and look at what? The wall?

"Hey," he blurted, somewhat sharply, and they turned to look at him.

"What's the matter, Lance?" Britney asked, concerned for her friend and the way his eyes seemed a tad too wide, his lips pressed a tad too tightly together, his posture a tad too tense.

I love you and I can't stand to watch you like this holding my best friend and it's so unfair that he met you before me why did he have to know you so long when it means I never had a chance and I wish I wish I wish I had never laid eyes on you because now I compare every girl to you and they all come up short and I'm tired of being the third wheel always watching always pretending always--

His mind ran out of breath, and he realized that his mouth hadn't yet spoken.

"Please," he said weakly, smiling weakly at them to punctuate it. "No PDA in front of the single guy."

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