Awakening from a wonderful dream that he no longer remembered, Justin smiled and opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the darkness of the hotel room, which was further dampened by the drawn curtains. The sun had not yet risen, yet he felt refreshed; he often awoke before dawn when he had a particularly good dream. He stretched lazily, unthinking, and started slightly when he felt his arm brush the body next to his. Lance had rolled away from him in his sleep again, but for a moment Justin had assumed that Lance had simply gotten up before him.

Justin slowly propped himself up on one elbow to study the older man, careful not to disturb him, and idly wondered just how he'd managed to stumble into his current situation. If Lance had only been a regular guy...

He frowned. If he'd just been a regular guy... what? Would I have ended up with him like this? He couldn't imagine how it might have happened. They were both gay, but he didn't suppose that Lance was the type of guy who would give him pause if Justin passed him on a crowded street, although his intense stare might have caught his eye in a nightclub. And might he have been attracted beyond that? Justin wasn't sure.

Lance didn't possess the sort of natural charm that lent to Justin's own disarming grins, or Joey's easily affectionate nature, but there was something Justin found engaging in the coy way that he would sometimes catch Lance eyeing him, or the way that Lance still blushed at compliments. He wasn't as musically well-rounded as JC, who could whip up a jazzy piano improv on demand, but his lyrics were poetic and when he shyly serenaded Justin late at night his singing voice revealed a versatility that few had the opportunity to recognize. He didn't have the quick wit that resulted in the spontaneous bursts of hilarity at which Chris excelled, but Justin had come to prefer the methodical, sarcastic quips that Lance often slipped in at the end of a long exchange between his bandmates.

Justin found himself idly drawing patterns on his boyfriend's exposed bicep with his index finger, and quickly focused on playing a game of connect-the-dots with the moles and freckles that he found there. One to two to three... then he followed the curve of the muscle to locate dot number four....

Lance was such a mixture of contradictions: he was broad-shouldered like Justin, yet shorter, small-ish in stature; his serious, pale eyes contrasted with his somewhat goofy nature and awkward smiles; his face held a beguiling prettiness that clashed with the deepness of his voice; he was plainly sensitive when it came to matters of the heart, yet he rarely shared his feelings with Justin; he was not vain, instead rather painfully self-conscious. And Justin found each contradiction intriguing. He was fascinated. He wanted to know more, to know everything about the man sleeping beside him.

Justin had never been in love before, and he didn't suppose that he was in love now. If he had to ask himself the question, he reasoned, then it couldn't be love. Not yet, anyway. Lance didn't occupy his every thought, but on breaks with his family -- even though he missed them and enjoyed being home -- he found himself longing for the next tour to begin. A stranger would pass wearing Lance's cologne and it would bring a silly smile to his face. He would be shopping and spot a bracelet that he thought would look wonderful on Lance. He had even bought Lance a day planner with Biblical quotes on each day's page, thinking it was a gift that he himself would appreciate, since they shared the same religious background. The best part was that Lance actually used the planner, and Justin couldn't explain how wonderful it made him feel to see that he did. If he wasn't sprung yet, he would be soon.

Lance sighed under Justin's ministrations, reaching up with his other hand to scratch at the offending tickle on his arm, and Justin drew back guiltily with a glance at the clock that rested on the night table. They didn't need to be up for a couple of hours yet, and since Justin knew Lance to be a light sleeper, he wanted Lance to get as much sleep as he could. Today was going to be another full day for the group; photo shoots, interviews, more interviews, sound check, meet-n-greet, and of course, their show.

They'd get back to the hotel before 11 for a quick shower and change, and Lance would put in some time for his management company. Always looking ahead, always planning and scheduling and recruiting. Justin would get in a backrub while Lance worked. Maybe. And then the chances were that Joey would be able to convince Lance to go clubbing for a few hours, and Justin would reluctantly join them. At about two or three in the morning they would return to the hotel and Lance would crawl into bed drunk, practically ill from exhaustion, and definitely too tired to hold a conversation. Or anything else.

And Justin would again find himself awake before dawn the next day, afraid to disturb Lance's slumber.

If we'd just been regular guys, he thought sadly, it might be hard to be together, but... this would be our time. He slid his arms around Lance's waist and curled up behind him, and Lance relaxed into his hug, still taking the slow, deep, easy breaths of sleep. Lance was aware of Justin's presence, he knew, even in dreams. That would have to be enough for now.

Author's Notes: Slash-esque modified outtake from "Where Fate Leads Us", number 2. This was my original plan, and then I caved because I didn't want everyone to be all, "oh, she's doing slash again." But dangit, I wanted to see some Lamb love, so I wrote it anyway! Muahahahaha.

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