Girls, Girls, Girls

Lance Bass tossed his head, blowing upwards to prevent a flyaway strand of strawberry blond hair from blocking his vision, and glanced back down at the book that rested in his lap. He was beginning to feel a bit bleary-eyed from studying Geography for so long tonight, but his final exam in the subject was the next day, so he figured that another hour or so wouldn't kill him. The knowledge that it was the last exam of his high school career nearly crippled him with relief; no, an extra hour certainly wouldn't kill him.

He was alone in the double hotel room that he shared with his groupmate Joey Fatone, and normally he would be grateful for the peace; after all, he didn't feel right demanding that Joey keep quiet so that he could study when he was the only one who needed the silence. But he felt an irrational discomfort well up within him at the thought of Joey spending the night out dancing and flirting with the local German girls at some club or disco; that English wasn't the girls' first language likely made things even more exciting for his roommate, Lance thought wryly. "Hey, as long as I can say 'what's your number' and 'take your shirt off' in German, that's all I need to know," Joey had joked on more than one occasion.

Lance never could tell whether or not the older man was really joking.

How Joey could just waltz into a room and make out with a girl whose name he hardly bothered to find out was beyond him. For that matter, it was beyond him how he'd ended up sharing a rooom with the Italian in the first place. He knew that Joey wasn't exactly crazy about him; he got that feeling about all of the guys from time to time. But Joey was nice to him, or tried to be, and he was funny, most of the time. Lance supposed that rooming with Joey would be better than sharing a room with Chris, whose 'endearing' sarcastic insults knew no bounds, or with JC or Justin, whose perfections would only serve to magnify his own insecurities.

And so, ultimately, he was at a loss as to why he even cared who Joey messed around with. It's none of my business anyway, he thought, grimacing.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the door to their room burst open. "Hey, Lance," Joey breathed, sauntering inside and kicking the door closed behind him.

"Hey, yourself," Lance replied indifferently, keeping his head bowed over his textbook.

After several minutes Joey's incessant humming was becoming increasingly distracting and Lance caught himself reading the same sentence for the fourth time. He glanced up and watched his roommate dance giddily around the room to some song he'd heard at the club that had lodged itself in his mind. At least he was cheerful, Lance was grateful to admit. It really was difficult to stay in a bad mood for long when Joey was around; the perpetually upbeat man considered it to be an unnecessary state of mind altogether.

It suddenly occurred to Lance that there might be extenuating circumstances that could be responsible for Joey's high spirits, and he frowned, no longer wanting to look in Joey's direction. He tried to envision what Joey had been up to; probably locked in a passionate embrace with six different girls that evening, he thought disgustedly. In his mind's eye he saw Joey's strong arms wrapped around a faceless body, Joey's head bent to nuzzle a neck, to bite an earlobe. Joey's hands creeping lower to settle on his partner's rear end--

Lance shifted his hand and was startled into glancing down when he noticed that it had stuck slightly to the page of his text, damp with perspiration. He took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable, hot, and more upset than he'd been in the first place.

"So, who was the lucky lady tonight?" It was a stupid thing to ask; he didn't really want to know.

Joey grinned as he made his way over to his side of the room, pulling his shirt over his head as he did so. "Her name was Marta." Lance simply continued to watch Joey, waiting, his head tilted expectantly, until Joey glanced back his way and shrugged. "And... Veronica. And Marika."

It figured. Lance snickered somewhat harshly and returned his attention to his book. "Only three?" he murmured.

Joey paused, about to fold his shirt, when Lance's comment hit his ears. What was that supposed to mean? He was prepared to shrug off the reaction -- he usually did -- but something about the way Lance had said it nagged at him, and suddenly he felt in the mood for a confrontation. It was just so seldom that Lance got snippy with him. "Okay, what?" Joey demanded, bunching his shirt up and throwing it into the corner.

Lance's head snapped up, his face a mask of innocence, and he shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

"No, no," Joey insisted, crossing the room and standing over Lance where he sat on his bed. "I wanna know. What was up with that? 'Only three?' What was that all about? I mean, come on," Joey spread his hands out generously. "If you're bugged I wanna know if you have a problem with this. Let's have it out. I ain't tired."

Lance looked up at him warily. "Joey, I'm studying," he began, his voice tense. I don't know what my problem is, his mind cried. I just don't like you being out there with them.

Joey shrugged and sat down on Lance's bed. "Fine then, we'll only take a minute. Just tell me what your problem is with me going out and seeing girls. I'll settle for that."

Lance thought for a moment, tapping his pencil on his textbook before pulling his other leg up underneath him and turning to face Joey on the bed, sitting Indian-style. His mind latched on to the most rational of his arguments. "Okay. Okay." He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a burst. "You go out to the clubs. You meet these girls. You make out with them a bit, whatever. You come back to the hotel and the next day we move on to some other venue. Then you do it all again. Am I right?" Joey nodded his agreement.

"Well... I mean..." Lance sighed, exasperated. "Doesn't that kind of thing get old after a while?" Lance tried to keep the expression on his face lighthearted, but the look in his eyes was serious.

Caught a bit off guard, Joey got off of Lance's bed, unbuttoning his jeans. "What, the girls? The clubs? Nah, man. With the clubs it's different every time." He slid the jeans easily off of his hips and stepped out of them, grabbing a clean t-shirt from his own bed and throwing it over his head.

"And the girls?"

Joey shrugged. "It's girls, Lance. Routine is welcome where girls are concerned." He began to feel slightly frustrated, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to curl up and let sleep overtake him. "You gonna get the light?" he asked suddenly, poised to get into bed.

Lance nodded as he glanced over to the switch by the door. "Yeah, I'll get it in a bit; I'm almost done here," he said, indicating his text. "So," he pressed further, "making out with these random girls, over and over, night after night... not being in a relationship... that never gets boring. It's great every single time." He was stating propositions rather than asking pointed questions.

"Okay, why are you trying to get on my case about this?" Joey retorted, climbing under his sheets and turning to face Lance again. "We've shared a room lots of times now. You know what I like to do; I know what you like to do. It's not like I bug you about, oh, say..." he paused, considering, "...being a virgin, right? I mean, I could say, what--are you waiting 'til you get married on that?"

Lance's brow furrowed and he drew back slightly, wondering how the conversation had swung to him so quickly. "I don't know," he mumbled, "I'm just taking it as it comes." He stopped, aware that he sounded defensive. "Okay, look, I guess it depends on what you're looking for with a girl," he conceded, setting his book aside and facing Joey more fully. "I mean, if you just want a body to keep you warm from time to time, then Martika or whoever is all you need for that night. But for me," he added, pointing to himself, "I want more than just a body to keep me warm at night. So... I guess at the end of the day, that's the difference between you and me," he concluded thoughtfully, returning his book to his lap.

Joey stared hard at him for a moment before rolling over in bed without saying another word, and left Lance to study. He wasn't particulary angry or upset by Lance's words... well, he supposed that maybe he felt a little put off; Lance made it sound so unappealing. Joey knew that the blond was trying not to judge his behaviour, but in a way that knowledge made things worse, because it implied that there was something about his behaviour worth judging. The fact was, Joey reasoned, that at the end of the day, Lance didn't know what made Joey happy. And he'd had no right to imply that there was something to be desired in the way he carried himself with women.

He had fun when he went out to clubs and met girls, and it wasn't affecting his work, so there shouldn't be a problem. Why did he have to be looking for some kind of grand commitment, anyway? He was only twenty; he had plenty of time ahead of him to settle down, and now was not that time. And if Lance wanted to waste his sexual peak years waiting for that special someone, well... well, then he would never know what he was missing.

Joey didn't know why that thought didn't lend him any comfort.

Lance watched Joey roll over, away from him, and felt a twinge of guilt for confronting a friend like that. At least maybe now he's miserable, too, he thought bitterly, not sure why he himself felt miserable at the moment. He was about to give up on studying and just go to bed when Joey's muffled voice cut the silence. "Hey, Lance?"

He sighed wearily, not wanting to talk anymore. "Joey, is this more important than Geography? 'Cause that's what I've got a test on tomorrow."

Joey buried his face into his pillow, sorry that he'd spoken. "Never mind."

Keep Dancin' All Night Long

It was just after midnight.

Joey edged the door to the hotel room that he shared with Lance open gently, careful not to disturb his roommate if he was already asleep. He was back earlier than usual tonight; management's orders. The group would have to be up early for their video shoot the next morning, and Lance was a light sleeper, so Joey didn't want to be responsible for his losing any sleep before their commitment.

When he peered inside, however, the lights were on and he could hear the tinny noise of Lance's Walkman as the blond methodically worked over the dance routine of their upcoming video, his back to the door. Joey stood just inside the room and watched the blond teenager, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, sing softly to himself and count out a tricky sequence.

"...Here we go just one more time, and everybody's feelin' fine, here we go now.... three, four, one, two, if you wanna party with--ugh!" Lance growled in frustration, stopping the tape and attempting to step through the sequence without music a few times before rewinding the tape and doing it all again.

Joey observed Lance's back for a long moment, at first amused, then contemplative. He found Lance to be somewhat fascinating, and he wasn't certain why. It wasn't like the kid was anything special. Joey hadn't even liked him when they had first met; some awkward wallflower who had intruded upon the friendships he had already made and strengthened with the other guys, only necessary because Joey's own voice lacked those last few lower notes that would make 'NSYNC's sound more distinct.

And he wanted to be in everything, Joey thought with frustration. Whenever the guys wanted to go somewhere, Lance would throw in his meek little "I'll go," and for the sake of the group it was impossible to turn him down. He didn't even enjoy clubbing, Joey was positive. He just wanted to go because everyone did and he liked to be involved. Not that Joey minded his company, really. Lance liked to talk and he had a pretty good sense of humour; he took jokes well and he listened interestedly when he wasn't talking. He didn't have a need to be the center of attention, and Joey could handle that.

But there was nothing special about him, really. He was too skinny, for one--

And you weren't, back in your high school days? Joey's mind taunted him. How long did it take to get those muscles you've got now? How hard did you have to work for them?

Well, that and he was short--

He's only seventeen; he's got time to grow. Chris is short and you don't think there's anything wrong with that, the voice in his head sneered.

He couldn't dance--

And you can't do math. But he can. You didn't choose your gifts and he didn't choose his.

Joey smirked. That ridiculous hair.

But even he had to admit that that was a low blow; Lance didn't like his hair either. One of their stylists had observed early on that Lance had a "blond" complexion, and suggested to management that his hair be altered accordingly. His mother had had reservations, but Lance was so eager to rid himself of the mousy brown that had plagued him throughout his teenage years that he had readily agreed to a dye job and haircut. Unfortunately he didn't get to pick the shade himself, and he wasn't terribly pleased with the results. But the word from above was that he should try it out for a few months, and so he had grudgingly agreed.

Joey watched Lance stop and rewind the tape yet again, choking back a frustrated sob, and another thought occurred to him unbidden.

The kid worked damn hard.

He had come into the group needing to learn their repertoire of songs and had picked them up almost instantly; Joey was good, but Lance could sight-read music like nobody's business. Although Lance shrugged it off, maintaining that seven years of piano lessons had given him an edge, Joey had to acknowledge the talent nonetheless. And he really could sing, too. His voice was reedy and full and he had nearly perfect pitch, and Joey had to admit that he was slightly envious of the natural deepness of Lance's voice, easy for the southerner where Joey had to strain.

Still, it was true that Lance couldn't dance. He simply didn't possess the innate rhythm that flowed through Justin, or even the less instinctive moves that JC and Joey handled easily. Whatever "it" was that made choreography manageable for the rest of them, Lance was lacking "it." It had to be embarrassing to be singled out, to have hours set aside in private rehearsals just to keep him relatively up to speed with his groupmates, but Joey had never heard Lance complain. He worked diligently, even when it didn't seem as if he was getting anywhere.

But Joey had to admit that Lance was improving, slowly but surely. He'd never be considered a more than adequate dancer, if that, but he might be able to pull off an error-free performance one day. Joey suddenly found himself rooting for him, hoping that it would happen. Lance would be so pleased with himself if it did.

He strode over to the blond and stood just within reach, debating with himself for a moment, before reaching out and tapping Lance on the shoulder. With a cry, Lance leaped away, tearing the headphones from his ears and flushing a deep crimson as he stared back at his roommate. "Um..." he stammered, panting, a fine sheen of sweat causing his face to shine. "Hi. I... uh, I didn't know you were back."

Joey shrugged. "Yeah. I gotta rest up, you know. Big day tomorrow," he emphasized, indicating the Walkman resting on Lance's hip. He suddenly became aware of Lance's wide eyes regarding him with... it seemed like wariness. He was about to ask Lance what his problem seemed to be when realization hit him; Lance probably expected a joke to come about his dancing ability. After all, he had to know that Joey had seen him practicing when he came into the room.

Joey took a breath and considered his next actions carefully. Stepping forward and ignoring the way that Lance stepped back when he did, Joey reached out and grabbed Lance's shoulders, pulling the boy to him in a hug. Lance froze in the embrace for a moment, then brought his arms up and loosely wrapped them around Joey's back.

Joey let go and stepped back again, enjoying the look of shock that registered in Lance's eyes. "Go to bed, Lance. Don't worry about the video shoot tomorrow. You'll be fine." He gave Lance a sincere smile and turned to go to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

When he had finished up, Joey noted with pleasure that the lights in the room were down and Lance was curled up in his bed. Still dressed, probably, but fortunately getting some sleep at least. He got into his own bed and closed his eyes, laying on his back with his arms behind his head. He felt good about what he had done. He figured that Lance needed the boost of confidence.

He was about to doze off when he heard the covers on the bed next to him rustle. Joey didn't open his eyes, figuring that Lance was just getting up to use the bathroom. But when he heard the tinny refrain of their new single and a whispered count accompanying the sound of soft footsteps hitting the floor, he sighed and turned over, grinding his teeth in disappointment. For a hard-working kid longing to be accepted, a few simple words of encouragement obviously weren't enough.

Their Heart Is In the Music

Joey was trying to make things right.

He hadn't realized how wide the gulf between himself and Lance was until recently. Or maybe it was simply that he had never cared until now; either way, on this day in the middle of a brief rest stop from their European tour Joey had been offered the chance to go shoot hoops with JC and Justin, and Chris had invited him to join some of his friends for a game of touch football. But he had declined and instead called Lance, inviting him to his house to hang out, just the two of them. The fact that Lance had sounded so surprised at the invitation only solidified Joey's resolve that this was a necessary tactic.

And so it was that the two were sitting in the Fatone's den, surrounded by a humbling collection of music, from the many stacks and rows of vinyl to the shelves devoted to eight-tracks to the newer shelving unit nearly filled to capacity with CDs. Joey had played Lance some of his father's songs from when he was with the Orions, and some Frankie, and a little Bobby Sherman. And Lance had voiced polite approval, in that way that let Joey know he wasn't just being polite.

But that had gotten tiresome after a while, and for once Joey didn't want the day to deteriorate into just watching television or playing video games together. They had hit a lull in their conversation and Joey was trying to come up with something else to say when Lance suddenly spoke up. "Oooh, a beach ball," he exclaimed, rising to his feet as he went to retrieve it. He seemed as relieved to have something to say as Joey felt.

"You think you maybe wanna go to the beach a little later?" Lance asked, tossing the ball into the air a few times before he positioned himself underneath it, bending his knees and sent it springing upwards slightly with his fingertips. With the ball in the air above his head, he clasped his hands in front of him, thumbs together, and bumped it repeatedly with his wrists as he awaited a response.

Joey watched the blond follow the path of the ball with his eyes, shifting his weight easily from one foot to the other as the ball strayed either to the left or the right, and suddenly a thought struck him. "You play volleyball, Lance?

"Yup," Lance nodded, snatching the ball out of the air and coming to stand over Joey where he sat. "'Til sophomore year. And I used to play soccer when I was little."

Joey cocked his head, interested. "Wow, how come you stopped? Like," he clarified, "either of them, but why didn't you play soccer in high school too?"

Lance pursed his lips, reflecting. "Well, sophomore year was when I got into Attaché and started touring. So, I couldn't be on the team and missing all these practices when we had games to get ready for." He smiled, returning to his spot on the floor and leaning back on his elbows. "I guess that pretty much sealed my fate, didn't it? I chose performing over sports, that led me here, and that was that."

"But," Joey prodded, "what about the soccer? Did you hurt yourself or something when you were a kid?"

Lance looked away, reaching down to scratch at a mosquito bite on his shin. "When I started playing volleyball, I liked it more than the soccer, so I quit the team." He shrugged uncomfortably, as though he was unhappy he'd had to explain himself.

Joey was truly intrigued. He'd never known that Lance had been an athlete at his school; but then again, Lance had never had an opportunity to demonstrate his abilities in those areas either. All Joey and the other guys could see was that he lacked skills on the basketball court and on the dance floor and, perhaps unfairly, Joey had assumed that the teenager was just as bad at everything else that required physical coordination.

"But what made you start with the volleyball, then?" he asked insistently.

The corner of Lance's mouth twitched. Here it comes. "You'll laugh," he said softly, hesistating.

Joey shook his head emphatically, already smiling. "No, I won't! Come on, I promise. Please?" He lowered himself to Lance's eye-level, getting down on all fours, and crawled towards Lance with one step. "Pretty please? Pleasepleaseplease?" He begged in his Bobby voice, butting his head repeatedly against Lance's shoulder like a battering ram until Lance couldn't contain his laughter any longer and gave in.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, reaching over himself with one arm to push Joey away gently. "Get off me." He sighed and leaned back again. "Stacy got on the volleyball team when she started high school, and, um..." he bowed his head. "SinceIlookeduptoherIwantedtotryouttoo," he mumbled quickly, keeping his eyes downcast, as he reached up and scratched the back of his head distractedly.

Joey grinned widely and giggled slightly at his friend's embarrassment. "Why would I laugh at that?" he asked, missing the contradiction between his words and the expression on his face.

When Lance finally turned his head to face Joey, the older man's grin was infectious, causing one to spread across Lance's face as well. "You are laughing! You promised!" he scolded, but he wasn't really upset.

Joey shook his head, his eyes wide and innocent. "I wasn't laughing!" he laughed, then laughed harder upon realizing how he must look. "No, I mean..." he wheezed and grabbed on to Lance's shoulder for support; it shook beneath his hand with Lance's own laughter. Convulsing and shuddering, Joey waited until they both had calmed down before he continued. "I laughed a little, but it was only 'cause you got so embarrassed over it and it really was nothing to get embarrassed about."

Lance seemed pacified by that response. He'd half expected a joking remark wondering what kind of guy tries to emulate his sister at anything. All right, he'd fully expected a remark, so he was grateful that Joey hadn't commented. "Well, thanks for... only sorta laughing... I guess," he replied, smiling, and they fell into another silence before Lance's attention was once again grabbed by something in the room. "Oh, my gosh," he cried, jumping to his feet and jogging across the room where the impressive collection of CDs stood.

"What," Joey asked, rising to his feet as well and coming over to stand by his guest. "Find something you like?" Lance turned to him with a look of joyful incredulity and held up the CD he held in his hands.

"You have Garth?" The CD was the hits.

Joey laughed, and Lance felt a little silly for having brought it up. But the Fatones seemed like such a... well, not Garth Brooks kind of family. "It's my sister's," Joey explained, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. "She liked "The River" and the sales clerk talked her into buying this CD instead of whatever other one it was released on. She never listens to it though," Joey shrugged. "I don't know why she bothered. You want it?"

Lance smirked. "I have it already, thanks."

Joey studied Lance for a moment and wondered how he would be able to extract the animation that had lit up his friend's face just now. He wanted to see Lance move without the inhibitions that plagued him when he was with the other guys. He wanted to hear Lance's voice sing out confidently on its own. And he wanted to be the one to make it happen.

"Sing me something," he blurted suddenly, grabbing the CD from Lance's hands and popping it into the CD player. He adjusted the volume settings and scanned the song titles on the back of the case. "What song do you wanna do?" he asked, glancing up, and received an odd look from the teenager standing frozen where he had left him. "What?"

Lance felt completely put on the spot. "Sing you something?" he asked, confused and more than a little nervous. "I don't get it. What do you mean?"

"You pick a song, and you sing it, and I watch," Joey explained, speaking slowly, his eyes widened with mock condescension. "Me and my brother and sister used to do it all the time growing up."

Lance nodded. "I know, me and my sister too. I just..." his mouth worked for a moment before sound escaped. "Just me? Just... sing something. And you'll just... watch." He didn't know why this was making him so uncomfortable; singing was what he did. They'd been singing together for nearly two years, for crying out loud; this was stupid.

"Yeah," Joey said, somewhat impatiently. "We went over this already. Pick a song; come on, come on," he insisted, waving the CD case back and forth in his hand.

Lance sighed, defeated. "American Honky-Tonk Bar Association," he called out, throwing up his hands. This was either going to be interesting, humiliating, or incredibly fun. He prayed for the latter and tried to fight the blush creeping into his face.

Joey cued the CD and sat back. "Entertain me, James," he teased, flashing him a wide grin.

And he was entertained. Lance started out tentatively, restrained in his motions and singing so quietly that Joey thought he might be lip-synching. By the end of the first chorus he seemed far more at ease and his bass voice easily handled Garth's vocals, creeping over the volume of the CD to become audible. Bodily, it took Lance a little bit longer to come around; the country rhythm didn't lend itself well to a solo dance routine as it was. But suddenly during the second chorus -- somewhere around "their heart is in the music" -- he threw in a body shimmy, and Joey lost himself in his laughter, rolling over on the floor and hoping that Lance wouldn't think that he was making fun of him.

When he heard Lance's vocals come to a stop, he sobered up, glancing back with guilt, but Lance was doubled over at the waist, his knees buckling as he strugged to stand upright. Joey stumbled over to meet him, still laughing, patted his back as they both fought to regain their composure. When Lance met his gaze, his eyes wet with tears of laughter and dimples interrupting the smoothness of his cheeks, Joey caught his breath and impulsively hugged him. "That was great, man! Where'd you learn that shimmy?"

Lance returned the hug whole-heartedly as the song ended and the CD came to a stop. "I don't know," he murmured, smiling wryly as he closed his eyes. "I guess I'm just a slave to my rhythm."

Picture of You and Me

Joey playfully grabbed at Lance's hands, capturing them behind his back and leaning forward with a mock menacing grin. His fingers brushed against the softness of Lance's palms and the grin wavered briefly before he was able to recapture it.

"Ooohh, I love that! Hold it! Hold it!" the photographer cried in heavily accented English.

Joey stroked Lance's palms absently, hoping that the photographer would stop talking and take the damn shot so that his heart would slow down already.

SNAP.

Lance laughed nervously and wrestled his hands free, pulling away slightly. He leaned with his elbow on Chris's back, pointing with that hand, and slung his other arm over Joey's shoulders, pullling him down beside him. The scent of Joey's cologne reached his nostrils and his eyes widened wistfully as he forced his mouth to register what he hoped was a laughing grin. He held on to Joey for three more poses. Too long. But he couldn't seem to let go.

SNAP.

Joey slid his hands under Lance's armpits and shared a glance with Chris, who stood on Lance's other side. Understanding the look, Chris grinned wickedly and picked up Lance's feet, stretching him like a banner between the two of them. "Wait, I want in!" Justin yelled, squirming around JC and grasping Lance's sagging midsection as the older blond giggled hysterically and begged not to be tickled. JC stood behind his groupmates, arms outstreched, and grinned cheesily, waiting for the perfect photo op to be captured on film.

SNAP.

Joey bent down and placed his head beneath Lance's, feeling Lance's chin brush his cheek. The bass's chest rumbled with his laughter against Joey's skin, and he trembled slightly, his grip loosening and causing Lance to slip slightly with a gasp. Like a chain reaction, Justin's knees buckled and Lance's entire body drooped, sending all four members crashing to the floor in a tangled, wheezing heap. JC stood above them, doubled over in laughter.

SNAP.

Wrapping one arm around Justin's neck and using his hand to squeeze Justin's face into grotesque expressions, Joey wrapped his other arm around Lance as well. Chris immediately scrambled to his feet and tackled JC, pulling him into a headlock and giving him a noogie as he growled playfully. Joey stroked Lance's shoulder slowly, not noticing when Justin pulled his face out of his grasp.

SNAP.

Lance sat still against Joey, a thoughtful, posed smile on his face as he concentrated on the feel of Joey's fingers on his shoulder.

SNAP.

Red Hot and Blue

"You know, I would like just one day where I can learn a dance routine in an hour like the rest of you guys," Lance grumbled as he stepped out onto the Harless's patio with a soda, plopping down in one of the lawn chairs. He was red-faced and sweaty and grouchy, and his hair matched his mood as it draped itself damply over his forehead, strands sticking in spots.

Joey glanced up from his GameBoy and snickered, not unkindly, at his friend. "Been put through the paces again?" he asked, setting the game down and leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

Lance simply nodded, wiping at a drop of sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He reached up and scratched his forehead, scrubbing at it furiously, and grimaced at the hair that was stubbornly attaching itself to his skin. God, he hated it. He hated everything. He'd had to rehearse for an extra two hours today and he still wasn't getting all of the moves down. He was hot, and he was tired, and he was frustrated; he wanted to sleep, and cry, and go home, and be alone all at once. And God, he hated his hair. He felt his eyes well up. Oh, this was great; now he was going to cry in front of Joey, too.

"Fuck," he muttered, even though 'fuck' was a word he didn't like to use. It was the only word that he could think of to express the blackness of his mood as he tugged roughly at his bangs and blinked back tears.

"Hey, hey, now, take it easy," Joey said gently, rising from his seat and moving over to squat by Lance. "Don't dwell on it or anything. If you keep thinking about the moves and all that, you'll psych yourself out and mess up for sure. Just let it go, and start fresh tomorrow. It'll be better. I guarantee you." He reached out and rubbed Lance's shoulder, thinking that the extra rehearsal time was Lance's only cause of distress. He hadn't noticed the wetness in Lance's eyes, but there was something about Lance's posture, about the way he was tensed like a coiled spring, that made Joey suspect that he was more upset than he let on.

Joey watched in detached wonder as his hand lifted to Lance's forehead, cupping it in an almost maternal gesture. He pushed up on the damp hair, slicking it back easily, and his thumb brushed against skin, hot under his hand. "You know, you should cut your hair," he murmured, thinking aloud. "Wear it off your forehead. Wear it short. I don't think bangs are really..." he trailed off. He had been about to say 'flattering.' "You've worn bangs for a while," he amended. "You should cut 'em. Try something different."

He'd said too much. Why had he said anything? Joey stood abruptly, and Lance looked up at him, startled. "I'm goin' inside," he explained, retrieving his GameBoy. "You stayin' here?" At Lance's nod, he waved and slid the patio doors open, greeted by a cool blast from the air conditioning as he stepped inside. The relief that he felt had nothing to do with the change in temperature.

More Than Words

Lance's sister was getting married, and the Bass household was a frenzy of chaos.

"Mom? I thought I'd laid out my cufflinks last night but I can't find 'em now!" Lance was aware that he was nearly whining as he stepped out of his room into the hallway, buttoning up his shirt. His mother rushed past him, grabbing his hands and pressing his cufflinks into his palms.

"Sorry, honey," Diane Bass breathed, the curls in her hair still hanging in spirals about her face, not yet brushed out and styled. "I wanted to compare them to the ones your dad has in case we could find a better match for your suit." She pulled back and appraised him; he in dress pants and a half-buttoned shirt, she in a bathrobe covering her slip and camisole. "You won't need me to help you with your tie, will you? I can get your dad over here to fix it for you if you like," she queried, already reaching to straighten his collar, to tug on the bottom of his shirt.

Lance pulled away as best he could from his mother's fretful fingers. "No, no, Mom, it's okay. If I have a problem, I'll get one of the guys to look at it." He raised his eyebrows at her hopefully and she got the hint, smiling sadly at him and murmuring something about her babies growing up too fast as she patted his cheek and continued on down the hall.

Stepping into the guest room where the full-length mirror stood, Lance gave himself the once-over as he attached his cufflinks and the rest of the group finished getting dressed. Lance's parents had marvelled over how efficient the boys had been in getting ready while sharing a room... until Lance reminded them of the quick-changes in confined spaces that were required for concerts. The members of 'NSYNC handily reached around each other for whatever they needed, and whatever one lacked, another surely had.

Lance was the first to be completely dressed, needing only to shrug on his jacket. "All right, anyone who needs a hand with their hair, I'll be armed with a tube of gel in the bathroom," he called, standing in the doorway with his arms akimbo.

JC shook his head. "Nah, man, I'm fine," he waved, indicating his already-styled cut. "Chris, though," he giggled, full-throated laughter bubbling to the surface as he attempted to point in the general direction of the older man seated on the spare bed. "Chris looks lost without his bandana or his goggles... I think you could give him a hand!" He doubled over completely at the waist, his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders, and Justin smiled widely, glancing between Chris and JC as the former scowled.

"Now, listen, Little Caesar," Chris began in a warning tone, rising off of the bed. He lunged at JC's hair, hands outstretched to do damage, and JC brought his hands up defensively, launching a minor scuffle in the corner as Justin refereed. Lance leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and watched amusedly. He was very aware that Joey was watching him from where he stood.

Joey approached him, unnoticed by the other three. "Can you slick my hair back for me?" he asked quietly as he met Lance at the door, brushing past him just a little bit.

Lance nodded agreeably. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, come on." He led the way to the bathroom, then allowed Joey to enter before him and pushed the door gently closed with his butt. He hopped atop the counter, his back to the mirror, and widened his legs so that Joey could stand between them. "No, Joey, turn around and face the wall first," he instructed, and Joey did as he was told.

Lance squirted a handful of gel onto his hand and rubbed his palms together, coating them evenly. He started to pull his fingers through Joey's hair, still slightly damp; he marvelled at how silky the hair felt in his hands. "So, how do you feel today, Lance?" Joey asked softly, startling him.

"Mmmm..." Lance tilted his head from side to side, aware that Joey couldn't see him but would hear the inflection in his voice. "I think I might throw up." He chuckled, only partially joking.

"Tough to let big sis go, huh?"

Lance shrugged, sighing. "She's gonna be moving out, like, for good now. It's really final." He sighed again. "I love Ford and everything -- I mean, he's totally great -- but after this she'll be with him and not with us, you know?" He didn't know if he was making sense. He didn't know if he knew what he was saying himself.

Joey nodded, leaning back into Lance's ministrations. "Yeah... I mean, Janine's not gettin' married or anything, but I think I can imagine what that would be like, sorta." They fell silent, Lance applying more gel and pulling Joey's hair back with soothing strokes.

"I guess I'm a little jealous, too," Lance suddenly spoke up. "Not like, 'I wanna marry Ford' kind of jealous," he laughed, "but like... Stacy met Ford when she was eighteen. I'm eighteen; who do I know? What if 'NSYNC really blows up here? What if I turn around and I'm bitter and jaded and dead on a toilet at thirty?"

Joey barked a laugh and turned around between Lance's legs to face him. "Okay, I think you're overreacting a bit here, Lance." He stared at the younger man until he finally cracked a smile. "Besides, we all know I've got dibs on the dying on the toilet shtick." He laughed again, but Lance remained serious.

"I mean it, Joe. I mean, I don't wanna be alone and unloved for so long. I want to have a girl...somebody... " he paused; somehow that sounded more right, "...look at me the way Ford looks at Stacy. Get married. Live happily ever after. Two-point-four kids and a dog and a white picket fence. All that." He shrugged sadly. "It used to be my dream to marry my high school sweetheart, but last year the only person I went to school with was Justin." With that, the two men dissolved into laughter.

Joey patted Lance on the shoulder comfortingly. "The way I see it is, we don't have normal lives right now. So we can't have the same standards as normal people. You'll find your someone before you know it, and we'll look back on this day and make fun of you for being so down on yourself." He checked his hair in the mirror. "Lance, it looks great," he said truthfully. "Are you done with it yet?"

"Lemme see," his friend mumbled, taking Joey's head in hand and swiveling it so that he could examine it from the front. "Um, it's passable," he shrugged, jumping to the floor. "You really like it?" he asked, and felt his heart warm when Joey nodded enthusiastically.

"Hey, you didn't do your own hair, man!" Joey exclaimed suddenly, noting the flatness that was perched on top of Lance's head. "C'mere. Lemme fix the front of that for you." Lance raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully before placing himself back onto the counter.

Justin swung open the door and glanced over at them as he re-entered the bathroom to retrieve his comb from the counter. "Hey, how come you didn't offer to do my hair?" he joked, pouting as he stared at his groupmates in the mirror.

Lance gaped at him. "I did offer. You were there!"

Justin shrugged, checking his reflection. "I didn't mean you; I meant Joey." He winked at him and grinned.

Joey turned to Justin, his hands wet with gel, and wiggled his fingers menacingly. "You want me to fix it now?" he asked pointedly, and behind him Lance chuckled, kicking him in the thigh gently with his dress shoe.

"Hey, no, man, I don't need that kind of attention," Justin muttered, giving them a weird look over his shoulder as he walked out again.

Joey turned back to Lance and ran his drying fingers backwards through the short blond hair, spiking it gently. He rather liked the way Lance's hair looked now; it was shorter and didn't need to be as carefully styled, which meant that Lance was happier with it, too. He recalled that it had actually been his suggestion, but he didn't like to remember how he had suggested it. And he didn't like to think about what it meant that Lance had taken him up on his suggestion.

Joey smoothed down the hair at Lance's temples with his thumbs and slid his fingers around the sides and back to wipe away the rest of the gel. His fingers trailed down to the nape of Lance's neck and lingered there for a moment, and suddenly Joey's throat was dry. Why did Lance's skin have to be so warm and so soft?

He realized that he was dragging his fingers lightly along Lance's skin when he heard Lance's quiet sigh and noticed that the younger man had tilted his head down, exposing more of his skin to Joey's touch. He pulled away sharply, and Lance's head jerked up, his mouth hanging slightly open and his face taking on a tinge of red. "Um..." Joey cleared his throat, turning to rinse his hands in the sink. "That's it. You're done."

Lance turned to view himself in the mirror, studying his reflection and Joey's for a moment, before smiling gratefully. "Thanks."

Free Falling

Even though it was December and Orlando looked anything but Christmas-sy, Joey had caged himself inside his house, hoping that the solitude he'd be afforded while the rest of his family enjoyed a barbecue outside would offer some insight.

"Okay," he said to himself as he paced his bedroom, hands folded behind his back. "I like girls. I like girls. I really like girls," he babbled, filling the silence with his voice simply because he could. "Why do I like girls?

"Well," he paused, answering himself, "because they look good. Ah!" He unfolded his hands, snapping his fingers. "Girls have breasts. I like breasts. Breasts are good. Guys don't have breasts; therefore, I don't like guys.

"But guys can look good, too. I mean, I can think a guy looks good without wanting to have sex with him, right?" He stopped by the door, chewing on his lower lip. "Of course I can. Of course I can. I can think a girl looks good without wanting to have sex with her, too."

He started walking again. "Now, why would I think a girl looked attractive without wanting to have sex with her? What's the difference between the sex girls and the no-sex girls?"

A face flashed through his mind, long thought forgotten. Mary-Kate Parker, an acquaintance from high school. She was beautiful; Joey could hardly keep his eyes from her perfect heart-shaped face when they spent time together. She hadn't dated anyone throughout high school, but Joey couldn't bring himself to think one sexually tilted thought about her. But why?

Because she would never have had sex with me, he thought truthfully. She'd been a member of the "Choose Chastity" club in school, pledged to save herself for marriage. "Well, if the only reason I never wanted to have sex with Mary-Kate is that I thought I wouldn't be able to have her," Joey reasoned aloud, "then what if I thought she would have sex with me? Would I have wanted to have sex with her then?"

He nodded solemnly. "Hell, yeah." He sighed, leaning against his dresser and folding his arms across his chest.

"Okay then, what if a guy I thought looked good wanted to have sex with me -- would I want to sleep with him?" Joey shook his head emphatically. "No. No way.

"Okay, why would I want to have sex with girls and not guys?" he pressed himself. "Well, sex with girls feels good." He shrugged, then raised his thumb to his mouth, biting the nail thoughtfully. "Some would say that sex with guys feels good, though."

He grimaced violently and made a clawing motion at his throat before raking his hands through his hair. "Next question!"

"So then on Wednesday," Stacy Lofton was saying, "guess who calls me? Brett," she answered her own question, then laughed. "Three ex-boyfriends in one week! I'm thinking of changing our answering machine message to say, 'Hello, you've reached the Lofton residence; ex-beaus of Stacy Lofton neé Bass need not inquire within.'"

Lance joined in with her laughter as he rolled onto his back and dangled his legs over the edge of his bed. "They're all desperate now that you're officially off the market; that's what it is, you know," he remarked, staring up at his sister with a smile.

"Yeah, I wish I were that popular," she joked. "If I'd known that's all I had to do for boys to be ringing the phone off the hook, I'd have married Ford years ago!"

Lance snickered, slapping Stacy's knee chidingly, before he allowed his smile to fade thoughtfully. "Stace, can I ask you something? I kinda need some advice." He folded his hands above his stomach and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her attention shift to him.

"Yeah, of course," Stacy exclaimed, suddenly concerned for her younger brother. "What's the problem?"

"Well, there's this... member of the crew," Lance began slowly, keeping his eyes closed. "And we've sorta become good friends and we hang out together sometimes, like, without the rest of the guys and stuff. And... I'm not sure, but I kinda think that... maybe I like him--them--" he corrected, hoping that he'd glossed over the "him" enough to make it sound like a contraction, then realized that "them" was deliberately gender-neutral. "--Her," he further amended, his brow furrowing. My God, I hope she didn't notice.

Stacy frowned, not knowing what or who could have so agitated Lance. "You think you maybe like her? She's different from the girls you've liked in the past?"

You could say that.

"Well, yeah," Lance nodded. "I mean, with the girls I dated before, I knew how I felt and I knew that I wanted to date them or whatever, but with this girl it's different somehow. I can't explain it. Like, I wouldn't have thought anything really about it, but..." He searched his mind for an example to help illustrate his feelings. "Okay, like she goes out all the time, with all these different guys, and she doesn't really care about them, but she just likes to party -- but..." He opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling, shrugging. "It bothered me. Not meaning that I wanted to be those guys, necessarily, but just... I dunno, maybe I did want to be those guys." Whoa. Maybe he did.

"So I kinda got mad at her about it and said something to her, and I don't know if I hurt her feelings or anything, but she doesn't do it so much anymore. And I feel better knowing that. What does that mean, do you think?"

Stacy paused in contemplation, her expression remarkably similar to that of the young man lying next to her, as she considered it. "Well, it really sounds like you care about her, and maybe you do like her as more than just a friend. But if she listened to what you said, maybe she feels something for you too, huh?" She nudged Lance's head with her knee. "How do you feel when she's around you?"

"Sometimes," Lance started, a wistful smile spreading across his face, his eyes still trained upon the ceiling, "we have these really comfortable moments, you know? Like we don't have to say anything and we can just enjoy being around each other. And she's really good at cheering me up when I get upset over things. Or, sometimes she has to touch me, 'cause of her job... but other times she'll touch me even when she doesn't have to. And I don't know if it's just her being a touchy-feely kind of person, or if it's really me. But," he admitted, "I like it when she does that. Times like that I feel like I am... attracted--" he stumbled over the word, "--to her."

Stacy shrugged, reaching down and rubbing Lance's stomach gingerly. "I think we have a winner, Lance," she murmured. "What's stopping you from just asking her out? You're not the kind of kid who shies away from that."

"I don't know if I can just do that," he blurted, his eyes finally meeting hers, light green tinged with panic. "I--I think there might be a rule against us guys dating crew members," he stammered. "I don't want to get in trouble or get her fired."

"Well," Stacy said, rising from the bed, "the way I see it, the first thing you need to do is find out what the policy is. If there's a rule against you guys dating, then you have two choices: either forget about dating and get over her, or see if she's willing to give up her job to date you -- which she probably doesn't want to do, so just forget about her. Or," she continued as she moved to stand over Lance, her face upside down to him from where he lay. "If there isn't a rule, you need to make a move and ask her out already."

"What if I'm just seeing things I want to be true and she's offended that I asked?" his voice was barely a whisper.

Stacy shook her head. "Then she isn't worth your time."

"I'll still need to keep working with her if that happens though," he pointed out, his eyes sad, pleading. Give me another option, Stace. Please.

"You'll live." She was absolutely resolute. Her face softened and she bent down, holding his face within her hands. "Lance, I know you. I know you'll regret it if you let this girl slip away just because you're scared. And I'm telling you now, I will kick your ass if I find out you did just that. I could do it when you were twelve, and I'll do it today if need be." Smiling sweetly so that her face appeared to be frowning from his point of view, she dropped a kiss onto his mouth and released him, turning for the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for dinner, kiddo," she called as she closed the door behind her. "God, I love visiting home," he heard her say as she moved down the hall, her voice carrying through the walls.

Lance closed his eyes once again, blowing out a sigh as he wondered if it could ever be that simple.

"Okay," Joey was pacing again, his hands pawing at his face, pulling his eyelids and mouth down so that they drooped comically. "Do I think JC is a good-looking guy?

"'Course. Yeah, sure," he admitted, shrugging. He turned to make another lap. "Would I want to kiss him?" He shook his head. "Nahhh... I don't think that would happen." He chuckled to himself. "No, I definitely don't think that would happen. All right then," he moved on. "Do I think Justin is a good-looking guy?"

He scowled and shuddered. "No! What is this, NAMBLA? No! He's a fuckin' kid! Ugh, God no!" His hands went to his hair again, grabbing it in his fists. "Okay, Chris, then; is Chris a good-looking guy?"

He held his breath as he considered it. "Chris..." he exhaled. "Is not my type."

What is my type?

"Shut up," Joey chastised his mind. "That's not on my list of questions.

"Okay, what about Lance? Is he good-looking?" His mind swept over Lance's face swiftly, and he had to admit that Lance had grown up a fair bit over the past year, and especially since he'd first joined 'NSYNC two years ago. He was more comfortable in his skin these days, and it showed in his outward demeanor; in the way that he carried himself and the way that he interacted with the other guys.

"Yes," Joey nodded. "I think he is.

"Now, would I want to kiss him?"

Joey stopped in front of his mirror, taking in his appearance. His dark hair hung softly on either side of his head, curling sloppily over his temples; the gel that he had run through it that morning had completely lost its hold after he'd been running his fingers through it so much for the past hour. The day's worth of stubble was already beginning to cast a shadow over his jaw and above his upper lip. The combination made him look older. Weary. Scruffy. But his normally chocolate-coloured eyes glowed a fierce bronze as he contemplated his last question.

"Yes," he admitted to his reflection and to himself. "I think I would."

To say that the realization was scary would be an understatement.

When the Timing's Right

"How many friggin' people are gonna be at this party, anyway?" Chris exclaimed as he went over the staggering list of names on the New Year's guest list.

Lance rubbed at his eyes, thinking at what he felt was way too early in the morning. "Three hundred and forty-five," he sighed. "At last count."

JC whistled, leaning over Chris's shoulder to scan the guest list himself. "Lou sure does know how to throw a party. He's just got all those TransCon hopefuls in there, doesn't he?"

"Hey, you think he'll let us hang in the VIP room this time?" Chris asked sarcastically, glancing around the room with his eyebrows raised. "I mean, I think I'd rather be shunned by TransCon staff in private instead of right out in public."

Lance shrugged. "I think we earned some respect this year, from the record in Europe. He has to give us that at least, right?"

"But," Chris pointed out, "we could still fall on our faces next year when the American album comes out."

"We could," Joey agreed, "but this is about tonight; not next year. I say we get the VIP room." He shrugged. "And if we don't, hell, we leave early and have our own damn party."

"But Joey, if the girls are all ignoring you, you won't have anybody to kiss when the clock strikes midnight," Justin put in with a mock pout.

"Ah," Joey scoffed. "Who needs a girl to kiss on New Year's when you have friends? I could kiss a girl any time." He ignored their laughter, continuing with a sentimental voice. "No," he announced grandly, standing, "I'm gonna give each of you guys a big smack right on the cheek. Just like this..." He strode over to Justin, grabbing his face in his hands and planting a wet peck near his cheekbone. Justin shied away slightly from his touch and laughed, embarrassed.

"Oh," he cooed, batting his eyelashes and bending his hand down at the wrist, "Stop it, you big ol' man, you!"

JC and Joey shared a laugh as the latter advanced, and JC took his punishment stoicly, rolling his eyes as he humoured his friend.

Joey then turned to Chris, his hands out, but Chris folded his arms against his chest and eyed him suspiciously.

"Joey, if you kiss me, I'll be the last person you kiss."

"Okay, then," Joey whimpered jokingly, turning to Lance. "Are you gonna diss me too?" he whined, sticking out his bottom lip as he approached, and Lance grinned, feeling a little heat creep into his face. He shook his head and tried not to duck away from Joey's advancing hands.

Joey's lips pressed firmly against the apple of Lance's cheek, and Lance closed his eyes, swallowing hard. The kiss was neither wet nor mocking, and everyone present noticed; their bandmates sensed that they were intruding on an intimate moment and averted their gazes. A mere second later -- longer than a joking peck ought to take -- Chris cleared his throat and Joey released Lance as though he had become hot to the touch, both men looking over at their friend.

"Damn," Chris breathed, tucking in his chin. He raised his hand above his head. "Hey... I changed my mind; can I get my kiss now, Joey?"

The members of *NSYNC did get invitations to the VIP room, with some thirty other people who paid them no mind. Not that they minded, really; as Chris would say later, he would rather spend time with his four friends and groupmates than those over-pretentious, butt-kissing, spineless, nausea-inducing, sorry wastes of human skin anyway... not that he was angry.

They had been mingling around the room randomly, trying to eavesdrop on anyone who might be talking about them, before they split up for drinks to toast in the new year. But somehow they had all gotten caught up. Chris and Justin were chatting in one corner with Lou; JC was busily trying to fend off an intern who didn't seem to care that she was definitely off limits for him. Joey found Lance standing somewhat on his own, cradling a glass of champagne and seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Hey," Lance greeted, looking up as he sensed Joey's presence. "Where are the other guys? It's almost midnight."

Joey shrugged. "Around. They'll find us in time. So, hey, happy new year." He grinned, raising his own glass.

Lance laughed, shaking his head. "Um, Joey? It's not new year's yet."

"I know," he nodded, "Just thought I'd get it out of the way while everybody's not screaming in our ears, right? So, happy new year!"

Lance rolled his eyes and took Joey's extended hand, shaking it. "Yeah, happy new year." He winked jokingly at him and Joey winked back.

The noise in the crowd swelled suddenly as the Times Square ball began to make its descent on the big screen TV. Everyone chanted along in unison as the clock ticked on.

"Three..."

Lance turned his eyes to the television as it counted down the remaining seconds of 1997, his attention completely diverted from Joey and their conversation for the time being. Joey examined him with a frown, his mind going over the events earlier in the day, when he had kissed each of his groupmates. He had been nervous approaching Lance. He had wondered if kissing him would somehow be different from kissing the others; if it would mean something different, knowing that he had enjoyed holding Lance's face in his hands and feeling his lips touch Lance's skin more than he was ready to admit.

It was now or never, he decided. He had to kiss Lance again; he had to know if the exhileration that had flowed through him earlier in the day was a random fluke or if it would link him to Lance somehow from this point forward. He leaned in, towards Lance's ear, as though he were going to speak.

"Two..."

He could kiss the other guys later, he thought, leaning in further. But he had to kiss Lance now.

"One..."

Joey leaned closer still. "Hey," he whispered, and Lance turned his head, feeling Joey's breath on his cheek.

"Hmmmm?"

He blinked. Joey's mouth was an inch away from his. Their noses were touching. Behind and around him Lance could hear the cries of "Happy New Year!" being shouted among the other guests in the VIP room. Nobody was paying attention to the two of them, and all Lance could think of was the fact that their noses were touching. If Joey moved forward, just an inch...

Joey moved forward a little bit. Just an inch.

Their lips met, and the two men froze.

Joey kept his eyes open and saw Lance widen his. With his mouth pressed against Lance's the rest of the room seemed to blur into darkness, the drunken renditions of "Auld Lang Syne" becoming a distant murmur. He felt alive, and afraid, and comforted, and the sensation of Lance's lips touching his caused his world to shift. He could not remember ever kissing a girl this chastely. He could not remember getting so flustered so easily.

He hadn't actually made the decision to kiss Lance like on the mouth; it had just happened. He had meant to kiss his cheek. That was what he told himself; Lance had turned his head, and so Joey had missed. He didn't know what had changed things; all he knew was that it took a great deal of restraint to pull himself back and separate himself from Lance.

Lance's mouth fell open slightly, his breath coming more heavily. Their noses were touching again. The kiss had passed in only a moment -- the other people in the room were still exchanging hugs and well wishes for the coming year -- but for him time had completely stopped. To someone walking by it might have looked as though he and Joey were engaged in an intimate conversation, but neither had said a word up to this point.

"Your cheek," Joey mumbled, his voice gruff as he raised his hand and gripped Lance's arm as if to steady himself.

Lance shook his head and regrouped, not comprehending. "Huh?"

"Your cheek, Joey repeated, knowing that he wasn't making any sense but unable to get the words out otherwise. "I meant your cheek." His voice lowered further and he said it again, more to himself than to Lance. "I meant to kiss your cheek." He fervently wished to believe that it was the truth.

Lance watched Joey, still feeling the touch of Joey's lips on his. He saw the desire plain in Joey's eyes and knew that it was not.

24 Hours: To Err Is Human

"Hey."

Lance glanced up into JC's smiling blue eyes, and grinned back. "Hey. What's up?"

JC shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. The other guys are ready to head back to the hotel; aren't you coming?"

Lance nodded, returning his attention to the folded sheets of paper he held in his lap. "Yeah, in just a second."

JC plopped himself down in the seat next to Lance, and the sound of footsteps echoed loudly as the odd personnel scurried through the hallway of RCA Records, where the boys had convened for yet another meeting concerning their new album. He peered over Lance's shoulder at the papers that the younger man was holding, then raised his head to stare at the side of Lance's head, a curious grin splitting his face. Lance kept his head down and tried to ignore JC's gaze; he knew that if JC wanted to say something he would say it, and Lance wouldn't be able to force it out of him if he didn't.

But after a long pause he felt as though JC's eyes were boring a hole in his cheek, so he gave in, sighing. "Okay, what?"

JC's smile spread slowly. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked in a childish voice, resting his head on Lance's shoulder, and Lance laughed slightly.

"I'm trying to memorize what I can of our 'could-change-at-any-moment' schedule for the next three months," he explained with a smirk, reaching up awkwardly with his left hand to pat JC's face. "And to be honest," he breathed, shoulders slouching, I'm not sure why I'm bothering." It really did seem rather pointless; with their album coming out in America, their schedule really would depend on how well they were received. Interviews and tour offers could crop up at any time... or not. But Lance wanted to know the dates that were most important and set in stone; otherwise he had no sense of stability, of knowing where he was going and what he was aiming for.

"So, are you done that assignment you were working so hard on?" JC questioned as he sat back up, his face serious now.

"Yup." Lance gave him a relieved smile. "I just put it in the mail this morning."

JC was grinning again. "So that means you can go clubbing with us tonight -- explore the New York night life and all that!" He nudged Lance's shoulder playfully and the blond nudged back.

"I'm hoping I can go, yeah," Lance replied. The assignment he'd had to do for one of the courses he was taking by correspondance for university wasn't due for another week, but with the open-endedness of their schedule Lance figured he'd rather be done ahead of time and leave himself time for fun and whatever else popped up... such as exploring the club scene of New York that night.

And, he had to admit, fighting the smile tugging at his lips at the thought of it, that he really looked forward to being able to go clubbing with the guys again. He hadn't had much opportunity to see Joey alone since the older man had kissed him on New Years. It was true that he'd been busy lately, but he felt a little like whatever had been going on between himself and Joey was starting to fade; Joey was treating him more like a casual friend than as a ... well, he wasn't sure what he was, but surely after your friend kissed you on the mouth you could hardly go back to being the same friends that you were before, could you?

He wasn't sure what he hoped would happen that night if he went out; he supposed that he would be able to at least spend some time with Joey on the dance floor, underneath strobing lights, away from the prying eyes of snobbish TransCon employees and overly-concerned groupmates. Maybe if he got the nerve there would be a kiss like there was on New Years. A longer kiss. A deeper kiss. Maybe more than a kiss. He swallowed, forcing himself to come back to the present; he didn't need JC wondering why he was beginning to pant in the middle of RCA Records.

JC was staring at him again, and it finally occurred to Lance that he had come to bother him for a reason. He chuckled to himself, then stifled a sigh. "What, JC?"

"How are things with you and Joey?" JC finally got it out, nudging Lance again and giving him a sidelong glance. It was a long shot, since neither Joey nor Lance had said anything to indicate that they were anything more than just friends, but JC wasn't blind, and neither were Justin or Chris. And these days, at the clubs, Joey was behaving like... well, like a taken man. He still danced with several different girls, but he simply didn't flirt and carry on the way he used to. JC had known Joey long enough to know that that meant something, and he needed to know if Lance recognized just how sprung over him Joey seemed to be.

Lance met JC gaze slowly, a number of different responses -- excuses, really -- flying through his mind. He could deny that there was a "him and Joey", but that wouldn't exactly be true; he realized that all of the guys must at least be aware of the ... whatever it was between their groupmates. Yet Lance also couldn't say that there wasn't anything between them, either.

He was so confused. He was always so confused about them.

So basically that, at least, was something consistent.

"It's the same as always," he answered JC truthfully.

"What do you, mean, 'do I have ID?'" Justin cried, incredulous, drawing himself up to his full six feet. He'd finally gained that extra inch in height that put him over the top two months ago, and he was using it to its full extent now. "I've never been carded before," he lied smoothly. "I mean, come on, look at me; do I look like some kid just off the street?"

The bouncer at the 18-and-over club was unmoved. "Show your ID, sir, or I can't let you in."

"Look, I just forgot it at home. I took a cab here so I figured I wouldn't need my license. Come on, give a man a break," Justin persisted. His confident expression belied the feeling of desperation rising in his throat. He hadn't been turned away from a club in ages, and to have it happen again, in sophisticated New York no less, would be beyond embarrassing.

The bouncer shrugged. "Sorry." He turned to Chris. "Can I see your ID, sir?"

Chris complied, pulling his license out of his wallet and showing it to the large man for approval as he turned to his young friend. "Hey, sorry about that, Justin. We'll come back early and we can go do something else; catch a movie or something, okay? We won't be long. Or... okay," he amended. "I'll come back to the hotel with you and we'll do something together. How's that?"

Justin scowled. "Nah, forget it. I'll go back and play some Nintendo or somethin'. Go ahead." He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched Joey show his ID and gain admittance to the club.

"Well..." Chris pulled a few bills out of his wallet and handed them to Justin. "I'll get your cab fare. I'm really sorry, man. We'll catch you soon." Patting the teenager's shoulder in an apologetic gesture, he turned and slipped past the bouncer into the dimly lit dance hall. Lance gave Justin a sympathetic smile as he followed Chris in.

Justin narrowed his eyes at the bouncer before spinning on his heel, tossing his hands up in frustration as he pushed past the other patrons waiting in line. "Whatever!"

Inside the pulsing, strobing room, Joey strode ahead of the others, telling JC that he would go order drinks while they caught up and found a booth. Stalking over to the bar, he tried to shrug the feeling of disappointment he felt that Lance had decided to go out with the rest of them. The single kiss that they had shared at midnight had at once clarified and muddied things for him; he simply didn't know what to make of it. He had enjoyed the kiss; he hadn't wanted the kiss. He never wanted to kiss Lance again; he wanted to kiss Lance all the time.

And now Lance was going to be there all night, sitting with him, wanting to touch him--
I want to touch him, too

Wanting to dance with him--
God, I really want to dance with him

Wanting to hold Joey, to kiss him again--
I want to be held

But he wouldn't do those things, he thought firmly, stating his order to the bartender and handing him a $20 for starters. They couldn't be together, he reasoned; bandmates dating each other, fooling around -- that kind of thing broke up groups time and time again. And that was when the bandmates involved were straight. No, there was no reason for them to take their friendship there. None at all. Lance would understand; he would agree, even. It was ridiculous, the thought of them together.

Is that why you haven't been picking up girls at the clubs lately? the voice in his head spoke up.

Joey paused. He didn't exactly know why he hadn't been flirting as heavily these days. It hadn't been a conscious thing, really; he just hadn't really felt like it. He felt completely contented to just drink a little, and dance a lot, and leave the girls to themselves.

He saw JC approaching, and was reminded of what had upset him in the first place. "Here, look," JC was saying, taking his arm with one hand and pointing with the other. "We found a booth straight that way; can you see Chris and Lance waving at us?"

Joey nodded, smiling, and waved back, as JC took the drinks he had bought out of his hands, turning to go. "So, are you coming back with me or did you want to buy something else?" the older man asked, glancing over his shoulder at Joey.

Joey thought of heading back to the booth with JC and sitting with Lance, and suddenly he felt very much like flirting with the ladies after all. Shaking his head, he grabbed the drink he had bought for himself back from JC, downing it in one gulp. "Nah," he coughed, "I think I'll hit the floor for a while. Keep my spot warm for me."

24 Hours: Foolish Games

Chris only noticed it first because his lack of attention span demanded that he find other things to look at when his friends spoke to him. So while JC suggested things that the group could do for their American tour -- should they be lucky enough to get one -- Chris happened to glance out on the dance floor just as Joey came into view, very much attached to the blonde with whom he was doing the Macarena.

What the hell? he thought, frowing, as he turned quickly back to JC before he drew anyone else's attention. He could have sworn that Joey was with Lance. He certainly hadn't imagined their closeness, had he? Maybe they'd had a fight; but Lance had wanted to come clubbing and didn't seem to be upset at all.

"Lance," he called out suddenly, and the green-eyed man glanced over at him, startled. "Here," he offered, handing Lance a five and his drivers' license. "Buy me a rum and Coke, okay? Thanks."

Lance looked down at the items in his hand, a dubious expression on his face. "They'll never believe that I'm buying it for a friend when my face doesn't match your picture, Chris."

Chris shrugged. "Give it a shot anyway," he insisted, staring at Lance and willing him to get his psychic message of go away!.

When Lance finally, reluctantly, headed off towards the bar, Chris exhaled in relief. "Man, I thought he'd never leave," he sighed, turning back to JC. "Do you know what's going on with Lance and Joey?"

JC shook his head slowly, leaning back from the table. "No, I'm not sure. But I don't think they really know, either. I tried asking Lance about it this morning and he seemed kind of unsure about the whole thing." He shrugged. "I kind of expected them to be out on the floor together tonight, but I guess I was wrong."

"Well, I guess I was wrong, too," Chris stated, pursing his lips, "because Joey's out there on the dance floor happily humping some random chick. I thought maybe you knew if they were fighting or something."

JC's jaw dropped at Chris's words and he swiveled his head to look out on the dancers, his eyes scanning the crowd until he found what he was looking for. Now he really didn't know what was going on. Did Lance know about this? The last thing the group needed was tension between members; especially this kind of tension.

Lance slapped Chris's money and license back down on the table, startling both of the other men before taking a seat himself. He sighed. "They didn't buy it, Chris. Get your own drink." He sat up suddenly, glancing around the area. "Hey," he spoke up, "where's Joey at? I thought he would be at the bar, but I never saw him at all. Has he been back to the table yet?" He was a little disappointed; he was hoping that maybe the two could talk, get things sorted out between them.

JC and Chris exchanged glances and silently agreed that Lance didn't need to know.

JC snorted. "Who cares where Joey is? We too boring for you?" he joked, a bit loudly.

Lance smirked. "Well... yeah, basically." He smiled, but didn't drop his line of questioning. "Have either of you guys seen him since we got here? Like when I went to the bathroom or anything? Did he say he was going early?"

Chris shook his head. "No, Lance, your guess is as good as mine. I don't have a clue where he is. Do you, JC?" JC put in his agreement, and Lance frowned slightly.

"He's gotta be out there dancing somewhere," he murmured, his brow furrowing when JC leaned into his field of vision as he glanced out onto the dance floor. "JC, move. I'm trying to see if Joey's out there."

Infuriatingly, JC's broad shoulders followed his eyes wherever they went. It was a childish game of shadow, and Lance might have been amused if he didn't want to get out on the floor and dance with Joey so badly. But he did want to dance with Joey, and so he wasn't amused. He sighed, irritated. "God, JC, could you stop it?"

JC grinned at him innocently, clearly enjoying his game; clearly adept at hiding the desperation that motivated his actions. "Stop what?"

Lance rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm gonna go out on the floor and look for Jo--" he cut off as his eyes located Joey on the dance floor. He watched, frozen in place, as Joey bent his knees and grinded his hips into the thigh of a buxom girl in a baby tee and hip-huggers. His intake of breath sounded strangely like a sob, and suddenly his vision wavered violently; he thought for a moment that he was going to pass out, then realized that his eyes had simply filled with tears.

"Lance?" It was JC's voice, speaking gently, JC's hand touching his arm.

He kept his eyes widened as he shook himself out of his immobility, afraid that to blink would be to break down. "Nevermind," he forced his voice to come out sounding lighthearted, but it still trembled slightly. "I found him. That's all I wanted." Swallowing back another sob, Lance sat down abruptly and looked from Chris to JC and back. "What? I just wanted to know where he was."

His friends exchanged glances. "Nothing," Chris assured him. "We just..." he shook his head dismissively. "Nothing."

Lance shrugged and turned his head in the other direction, appearing to gaze interestedly at the light fixtures next to their booth. He raised his hand to his nose and sniffled, wiping it where it had started to run. "Um..." he began, sniffling again and discreetly rubbing his eye where a tear had begun to escape. "I, uh... I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel," he said, trying to sound tired. Chris and JC nodded, understanding.

"Yeah, sure, you should rest up," JC added sympathetically. Chris watched Lance with sad eyes as the latter rose to his feet and knew that he couldn't leave his friend alone like this.

"Hey, wait up," he called as Lance was about to turn from their booth. "I think I'll go keep Justin some company now," he explained, smiling jovially in the hope of bringing a slight smile to Lance's face. Nothing. He cleared his throat. "Come on; we can share a cab, split the fare." Joining Lance by the table, he turned back to give JC a significant glare and tossed his head towards the dance floor.

JC caught the look and raised his hand in understanding. Oh, he was definitely on top of the situation.

Joey was in the middle of not stopping his dance partner's hands from cupping his butt when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned towards the intrusion and was met with JC's... well... livid face. There was no other explanation for it; the older man's gaze was intense with fury, his lips set into a thin white line. His jaw seemed set in stone, and Joey almost felt guilty. "Hey, JC," he said lightly, "what's up?"

"Oh, nothing," came the reply in clipped, terse tones. "I just wanted to let you know that you can stop trying to hurt Lance now, 'cause he's gone. He went back to the hotel." JC leaned in close to Joey and whispered harshly into his ear. "So drop the act."
Joey's partner, a petite redhead, got the hint and moved quietly away, unnoticed by the two men.

Whoa, whoa, wait... he left?

Joey pulled away from JC's accusing gaze and frowned at him. "Now, wait a minute," he protested. "What's an act? I haven't done anything unusual tonight; if Lance doesn't feel well or whatever, it's got nothin' to do with me." He tried to ignore the panicked feeling that was rising in his chest; it felt like he was doing a lot of ignoring tonight. A lot of running away.

How long are you going keep running? the voice in his head asked.

Joey had had just about enough of the voices in his head.

JC scoffed in disgust and disbelief. "I can't believe you, man," he muttered, shaking his head. "Me and Chris were sitting over there," he jerked his thumb back in the direction of their booth, "trying to cover your sorry, cheatin' ass so that Lance wouldn't see you, but you did a pretty good job of making it obvious. So good job on that," he added sarcastically.

Joey exploded. "What do you mean, 'cheating'?" he bellowed, gesturing wildly with his hands. "How could I be cheating on Lance? We aren't a fucking couple!"

JC's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest as the current song blended into a remix of another. "Oh, you're gonna play word games with me tonight?" he asked. "Here, lemme throw a few back at you. Consideration. Trust. Friendship. Infatuation. New Years' kiss. Heartbroken. Lance. You." He pointed a finger at Joey. "Asshole."

Joey shook his head adamently. "You're so wrong, JC. You don't even know." He sighed heavily, a shaky gust of breath; he glanced down at his hands and was surprised to find that they were shaking. "I know... it might have looked like there was something between me and Lance. I'll admit it; for a second it looked like there was gonna be... I dunno. A spark. Something. But that's all it was -- a second. Now it's over, I've realized there's nothing, and it's not gonna happen.

"Maybe I thought I liked him like that, but I was wrong," he insisted, running his shaking hand through his hair. "Maybe I thought I liked guys, thought I could like a guy. But maybe I just don't like guys, or can't. Maybe it's just that simple."

"Yeah, well maybe you're a coward!" JC spat at him, finger jabbing at his chest for emphasis. "Maybe you're so damn scared of how your life would have to change if you liked Lance -- really, really liked him -- that you'd rather deny what the rest of us can already see. And maybe," JC persisted, getting into Joey's face now, "maybe the difference between you and Lance is that unlike you, he's man enough to face what he knows and take the risk."

Joey shrugged at JC, quieting down somewhat. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice soft. "Maybe that's why it's better this way. Maybe that's why this would never work out; because I'm terrified and he'd be demanding things from me that I can't give him."

"Like fidelity?" JC's voice was cold and pointed.

"Gimme a break, JC," Joey scoffed. "I'd never do anything to hurt him and you know that."

"He was hurt tonight."

That gave Joey pause. "I thought he'd just be pissed," he admitted, wiping his hands over his face.

JC shrugged. "'Pissed' is a pretty good cover for 'hurt', don't you think?"

Joey guessed so.

"You know what your problem is?" JC asked, breaking the silence that passed between them despite the loud pulsing of the music.
What, aside from the fact that I'm miserable?

Joey shook his head.

"You've decided how you think Lance ought to feel, and you're acting out so that he feels the way you want him to. But see, that's not your place; you're not him so you don't get to make that call." JC was still angry, Joey could tell, but his voice and face had softened anyway, trying to be gentle with him. "For all you know, he wants you just as bad as you want him, so why are you putting yourself through this?"

Joey thought for a moment more, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation in which he found himself before he spoke again. "You're okay with this whole thing, Josh?"
If there's gonna be a 'thing'.

He didn't need to explain what he meant; JC didn't make him say it.

JC reached out with one arm and grabbed Joey's shoulder. "Why wouldn't I be? I just want my friends to be happy. That's all I want." He tilted his head, as though he were attempting to see within Joey's mind. "What do you want?"

A rueful grin spread slowly across Joey's face, but his eyes remained sad. "You think he'll kick me out of our room if I beg for forgiveness?"

JC laughed, hugging him. "Nah, Lance? He'll kick your ass, but he won't kick you out." He pulled Joey towards the exit. "Come on; let's get out of here so you can clean up the mess you made, dumbass."

24 Hours: Praise for the Morning

Lance didn't feel like saying much of anything on the cab ride back to the hotel, and it was driving Chris crazy.

"You sure you're feeling okay, Lance?" he asked gently for the third time, reaching out and placing one hand on the back of Lance's neck.

Lance nodded his head dismissively and shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine. I said I was fine five minutes ago, and I'm still fine now."

It's not like he committed himself to me or anything. It was just a kiss; nothing more. But nothing less either.

"You know you can talk to me about this," Chris insisted, feeling the tension in Lance's neck, knowing how upset he must be. "I mean, I'm your friend and I'm here for you. I think you'll feel better if you just get some of your feelings out."

Lance didn't respond, simply turning his head to stare out of the window as he rested his chin in his hand. But he didn't shrug off Chris's hand, and the older man took that as a sign of encouragement.

"How do you feel right now, Lance?"

"Fine." The answer was biting, cold. Angry.

"No," Chris shook his head, the twists in his hair flying about his face. "One, I don't believe you for a second, and two, that wasn't what I meant anyway. I want an emotion. What emotion are you feeling now?"

Lane turned to face him briefly. "Annoyed." He turned back to the window.

Chris smiled. "Ah, the sense of humour makes an appearance," he mused. "Promising. Anything else? Happy? Joyful? Validated? Relieved?" He was making ridiculous suggestions; he didn't want to influence Lance's own choice of words or his view of the situation.

Lance watched the New York skyline pass by his window, thinking of something neutral, before he finally responded. "Tired," he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Chris nodded. "That's fair; that makes sense. Anything else?"

He felt so defeated, so lost. "Confused."

"Hell, Lance we're all confused," Chris snorted. "We were hoping you could tell us what was going on in there." He quieted down, watching Lance watch the skyline pass in a blur. "I didn't know you felt that way about him, Lance," he said softly.

"Neither did I," came the whispered response from the blond man sitting with his head to the window, struggling frantically to blink back the tears that sprang to his eyes.

"Maybe Joey didn't know either," Chris offered, sliding closer to Lance on the seat and pulling him near, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. "Maybe he feels the same way about you. Maybe he's just as confused."

"He picks a stupid way of showing it."

Chris just shook his head. "Joey's the king of avoidance, Lance, and you know it. How do you think he stays so damn cheerful all the time? Maybe he's just trying to run away again. You can't be sure unless you talk to him about it."

This time Lance did shy away from Chris's touch. "I can't talk to him about this. I don't want him to know I know; I don't want him to know he got to me."

Chris thought of JC, in all likelihood back at the club giving Joey a piece of his mind, and winced. Too late, Lance.

The cab pulled up to their hotel and Chris insisted on paying the full fare, despite Lance's potests. They made it up to their floor in silence, but before they split up at the elevator, Chris turned to Lance once more. "Look, Lance, I know you're probably gonna ignore me on this. But the way to get Joey to face something and take it seriously is to make sure he can't run away from it." His voice was solemn and he placed his hands on Lance's shoulders as he continued to speak. "If you're serious about this, I guarantee you two can work it out. Just don't let him run away anymore."

The tears that had been welling up in Lance's eyes finally began to overflow in thin rivulets that travelled down the sides of his nose, and he made no move to stop them as Chris embraced him tightly. When he finally got back to the room he shared with Joey, he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. But Chris's words continued to echo through his head.

Joey was sorry.

Really, really sorry.

He faced his regrets in his and Lance's hotel room, staring at his roommate's back where he lay in bed and wondered how he'd ever convince Lance of his sincerity as he attempted to explain himself.

Lance hadn't said anything yet, but Joey knew that he was awake; the younger man moved easily in his bed, to scratch an itch, to stretch. The question was whether or not he was listening.

Joey really wasn't trying to make excuses for himself, although he certainly thought that he could. He could point out that since they weren't dating everything was still open-ended. He could emphasize the fact that he hadn't made out with -- or even kissed -- any of the girls he'd danced with, so he wasn't exactly being unfaithful.

He could tell Lance about how no matter who he danced with and what he did, it was all meaningless anyway; well, normally it was still meaningless, but at least he usually had fun. That night, though, he did not. That night he had gone from girl to girl, holding their warm, supple bodies close to his, but it was completely empty, unfulfilling; like attempting to embrace a cloud.

But he didn't say any of those things. "I'm sorry," he said simply, repeating the words for the thousandth time.

"Hey, it's okay," Lance replied, not turning to face him. He closed his eyes and hoped that Joey would go away; go and spend the night in someone else's room, on the lawn, in the lobby. Just somewhere else.

"I should have thought about how you'd feel, and I didn't, so I'm sorry."

"Hey, I said it's no problem," Lance said, his voice flat and higher than usual, and Joey knew that it still was a problem.

"But you're mad at me."

Gee, I wonder why that might be? You tell me, Joe. You tell me why I should be mad at you.

Lance sighed, stubbornly refusing to turn around. "Joey, why would I be mad at you? It's not like I'm your jealous boyfriend."

Oh, but I want you to be....

"You're mad because you thought I was gonna be with you and now you can't trust me not to turn to some girl in a club instead," Joey answered matter-of-factly.

He was met with silence, and frowned. He didn't want to be right about that one.

"Would you trust me not to mess around with the girls at the clubs anymore if I gave you my word?" The question was tentative; Joey wasn't certain that he wanted to know the answer.

Lance considered it; Joey had promised him nothing prior to this night, and Lance didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt just yet, but he also knew how seriously Joey took his vows. Still, this wasn't a light matter or a trivial bet to him, and suddenly a simple promise wouldn't do. He wanted proof; he wanted action. He just didn't know how to ask for it yet. "How much do you think your word is worth to me right now, Joe?" he asked instead. I'm not gonna let you run away from me.

"Good point," Joey conceded, stepping closer to Lance's bed, his knees brushing against the mattress. "What if I did say I wouldn't mess around with the girls anymore? What if I said you meant a lot to me and that I don't know what that means, but I just wanted you to know how I felt?" He raised one leg slightly and rested his knee on the bed. "What if I said I wanted you to be with me?"

Lance felt the mattress give, punctuating Joey's last words, and froze, his eyes wide. What if? he wondered. Well, everything would change, that was what. And suddenly Lance was afraid; so afraid. He saw the life he had planned out for himself begin to crumble at the thought of how happy being with Joey would make him; the lump in his throat grew, and he protested, his voice thick with fright.

"We'd have to tell the guys."

Joey nodded and hoped that his voice didn't betray how incredibly relieved he was. "Of course. We can do that in the morning; I'll lead the way."

"We'll have to be so careful in public."

"Nothing we haven't done before. It won't be a problem. I don't paw you and you don't paw me. But we always hug. Nobody'll notice."

"I still like girls, you know. I mean, I'm not gay.... I don't think I'm gay."

"I don't think I have to tell you I still like girls, too." He chuckled slightly, still embarrassed at his earlier stupidity, and luckily for him Lance joined in.

"I still wanna get married someday. To a girl. And have kids and all that stuff I was telling you about." Lance's voice was so deep, so serious, and as logical and truthful as the statement was, it still hurt Joey a little to hear it.

"Of course. So do I. Nobody said this was gonna be forever. It's just... right for now."

Moving quickly so that he wouldn't lose his resolve, Joey bent over Lance's bed and sat down, quickly bringing his legs up and sliding them underneath the covers. He rolled onto his side and laid his head on the vacant pillow just as Lance began to sit up in surprise. "Joey..." Lance hissed, his voice low.

"Shhhh, it's okay," Joey whispered, raising an arm to pull Lance back down to lie in front of him. He sighed with joy when Lance easily gave in to the tug of his arms and allowed Joey to drape his arm over him, spooning him gently. The room was filled with the sound of their agitated breathing for a long while, until Lance ventured to speak again.

"Joey, I don't know what to--"

"Shhhh," Joey cooed again, moving his face up against Lance's shoulder as he stroked his forearm. There was another long stretch of silence before Joey tentatively touched his lips to Lance's shoulder through the thin material of his t-shirt; then he slid the sleeve up and kissed the bare skin. Lance trembled beneath his lips, and instantly Joey was more certain than he'd ever been about anything that he was doing the right thing... that he was in the right place, with the right person, and that that was all he needed to know for now.

When Lance felt Joey's lips brush his skin for the second time he felt a sob tear its way from his throat; whether from relief or fear he could not tell. Joey had left the club early for him. Joey had apologized to him. Joey had committed himself to him, was in his bed holding him. It was a validation of every mixed signal he had sent and been sent over months of time, and he wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss Joey's mouth... to return his embrace....

Lance's voice was barely audible and, like his body, it trembled when he spoke. "So what does this mean, Joe?" He spun in Joey's arms, his eyes demanding, his uncertainty displayed in his features.

"It means..." Joey fumbled for the words. "It means you're more than just a body to keep me warm through the night," he blurted, at a loss for anything else to say.

Then Lance kissed him, pressing soft lips against his, and Joey sighed, holding him impossibly close. He didn't have to say another word.

"Oh, my God," Justin was saying in response to their announcement at breakfast. "For real?"

Joey nodded with a solemn certainty and squeezed Lance's hand, leaning into him and raising his eyebrows. "Yeah... yeah, it's for real. Is that okay with you, J?"

The curly-headed teenager nodded quickly, his eyes still wide with surprise, and he reached for his glass of orange juice to make sure that he wouldn't choke. "Of course it is. I mean... I guess I'm surprised, I mean... wow. I sorta thought there was something going on, but you guys never said anything about it, you know? This is just so..." He shrugged, taking a sip. "Official." He turned to his other groupmates. "You guys knew?"

JC snickered, and Chris raised a hand to the back of Justin's head, pushing down on it playfully. "Well, things sort of came out into the open last night at the club." Chris paused, pretending to remember. "Oh, yeah, I forgot... you weren't allowed in. You missed everything. As usual."

"Chris, you're mean," Lance scolded as he laughed, still young enough to remember how it felt to be turned away from the doors himself, and still new enough to remember how it felt to be excluded. "I'll fill you in later, Justin," he promised, then wondered if he would want to leave Joey's side long enough that day to actually do it.

I'll fill him in tomorrow, he decided.

Cappucino and Bacon: Word Play

"Joey, this is stupid," Lance laughed.

Joey shook his head, unoffended. "No, no, I'm serious. I'm curious. When did you know? Come on," he pleaded, making a ridiculous pouting expression and batting his eyelashes. "Give a dog a bone."

Lance laughed again, nodding. "The perfect analogy," he smiled. Propping himself up on his elbows from where he lay on his stomach across Joey's lap, he thought about it for a moment. "Okay, remember Stacy's wedding? I mean," he amended, "I know you remember her wedding, but do you remember when you were doing my hair in the bathroom, and you started touching my neck with your fingertips?" He pursed his lips at the memory. "I thought... wow. I thought I was gonna die."

So did I.

"Awww," Joey purred aloud, "so if I did this now," he lifted a hand and began to stroke the back of Lance's neck with a feather-light touch, "you might die?" He winked, although he knew that Lance wasn't watching him to see it.

"Uh, no," Lance clarified, his eyelids lowering at the attention. "I think I'm very much alive right now."

"Oh, I love that double meaning there!" Joey laughed and continued to caress Lance's skin. "So if that was when you knew, what was it that made you like me then?"

"You need me to tell you this?"

"My ego can always use expanding."

"Okay, um...." Lance tilted his head back slightly to think, freezing when his hair brushed against Joey's fingers. "You know, you're making it a little hard for me to think here."

"Oooh, another double entendre!" Joey snickered, and was met with an elbow in the thigh. "Sorry, continue."

"I like... well, you're really funny, for starters," Lance began.

Joey nodded. "So my looks amuse you. Okay, more."

"Um... you're the only one who likes my hair the way it is now."

"It has character," Joey remarked, tracing his fingers higher on the nape of Lance's neck until they brushed over the short platinum strands.

"You always make me feel good about myself," Lance added, turning his head to meet Joey's gaze. His expression was serious, his large eyes intense.

"In other words, I'm so bad at everything that you feel good in comparison," Joey mused, smiling down at him.

"That's not true, and you know it."

Joey shrugged, changing the subject. "So when did you first realize I was hot?"

Lance sputtered, half laughing, half coughing, at the question. "When did I what?"

"Really now," Joey insisted, his eyes twinkling, barely visible above his smiling cheeks. "There had to be a time when you looked at me and first thought, 'damn, Joey is fine.' When was it?" He leaned back on his elbows and awaited a response.

Pulling his face into an expressionless mask, Lance raised his eyebrows. "I still don't think you're hot, Joey." Anticipating a smack or thrown object from his boyfriend, he rolled backwards slightly onto his side....

Right off of Joey's lap and to the hotel room floor.

Joey fell backwards on his bed laughing, his feet kicking up with the motion, and he felt his toes make contact somewhere on Lance's body. "Wow," he wheezed, holding his stomach, "I don't even need to say anything to that. That was punishment enough."

"Oh, my God, I think I broke my arm or something," Lance moaned from the floor.

"You okay down there?" Joey inquired, still chuckling, but a little concerned now.

"Did you... hear what I just said?" Lance said deliberately, then slid closer and wrapped his arms around one of Joey's calf muscles, resting his head on Joey's foot. "Nah, I was just kidding. But I got another thing I like about you now."

"What?"

"I like that you just took a shower, 'cause otherwise there's no way in hell I'd put my face near your foot."

This time when Joey attempted to kick forward Lance held fast to him and his body weight held Joey's foot down. "Your turn," Lance murmured, running his hands slowly up and down the back of Joey's calf. "When did you know you liked me?"

Joey thought of the day he'd told Lance to cut his hair; the way he'd been rendered almost breathless by the feel of Lance's damp hair beneath the palm of his hand, the heat emanating from the teenager's skin in the Florida sun. "Sometime last summer, I think it was," he replied, enjoying the teasing way that Lance was touching him and suddenly wanting to hold him. "Come back up here," he instructed, leaning forward and pulling Lance up by his hands until he stood between his legs.

"And the reasons why I liked you," he continued, tilting his head back and guiding Lance's hands to rest on his shoulders, "hmmm... I like how you sing for me, 'cause I know you don't sing for anyone else but your family, and that makes me feel special." He ran his hands up and down Lance's hips while he spoke, and Lance lowered his eyes, smiling at his words.

"I like how everyone says Chris is the crazy one, but you're not afraid to do anything different either," he went on, half-laying on the bed and continuing to pull on Lance until he crept forward and kneeled on the matress ahead of him.

"And..." he thought for another moment. "And I like how you make me think about things. I might cheer you up, but you make me look at things more seriously."

"Wow," Lance whispered, smiling wryly as Joey cupped his face in his hands and brought him down for a kiss. "Now I feel like my answers sucked."

Joey touched his lips to Lance's, gently at first, then more firmly as the blond parted them for his tongue to gain entrance. He licked at the inside of Lance's mouth once quickly before pulling back with another peck. "Yeah, they kinda did," he joked, and they both laughed. "But you can make it up to me."

Lance allowed Joey to pull his body down over that of the older man's, and checked the digital alarm clock while he kissed at Joey's goatee. "We only have fifteen minutes 'til we're supposed to meet Justin at Janet's soundcheck," he responded.

Joey shrugged, craning his neck to kiss Lance again. "So you can begin making it up to me now."

Lance smiled against Joey's lips, refusing to open his mouth to him. "You never told me when you first thought I was hot," he pointed out, dropping a kiss just between Joey's mouth and where his goatee began, and Joey contented himself with kissing the tip of Lance's nose.

"I think you're pretty hot right now," Joey replied, moving from massaging Lance's hips to pulling him closer by the belt loops of his jeans, causing the younger man to settle heavily between his legs with a sigh.

"Mmm... was there a double meaning to that?" Lance wondered, still smiling. He kissed the sides of Joey's mouth, bringing a hand up to stroke the hair at Joey's hairline and running his thumb over Joey's eyebrow.

Joey pulled on Lance's belt loops harder, thrusting up slightly, and with a quiet moan Lance closed his eyes and brought his mouth back to Joey's, slipping his tongue past Joey's lips. Their tongues touched tentatively at first, then more sensually as Joey wrapped his arms tightly around Lance's back, silently begging Lance to relax his full weight upon him. Lance's hand began to fist in Joey's hair as he thrust downwards, meeting Joey's now steady rhythm. Yet somehow, despite the fact that a beautiful warmth was beginning to spread throughout Lance's body, through the haze he became aware of the fact that time was passing by.

He pulled away, Joey still holding him close, and checked the clock again. "Shit," he muttered, breathing heavily, and he shifted his gaze to the man below him on the bed. Joey's eyelids were heavy with arousal, his lips kiss-bruised, and Lance knew that he must look the same. "Joey, we've really gotta get going. Justin's gonna be mad if we stand him up."

"Justin," Joey said softly, "will understand." He traced the side of Lance's neck with one hand while the other trailed down to press against his butt, forcing their crotches to grind into each other even more.

"Justin will never let us live this down, you mean," Lance corrected, although the tightness in his jeans was beginning to make him think that maybe Justin would forget that they'd agreed to meet after all.

To his dismay, Joey agreed with his words more than with his thoughts. "I know; he'd never let us forget it," Joey conceded grimly, and his arms loosened from around Lance's back as he sat up slightly, forcing Lance to back up off the bed. "We were gonna stop soon, anyway," he said, giving Lance one last peck on the mouth. It was true; they'd never gotten much further than that when they were alone together, even if they were uninterrupted. The situation was still all too new to them to rush things.

"You're right," Lance admitted, pulling Joey by the hands up to a standing position, and both men passed their hands over their jeans briefly to adjust themselves before starting for the door.

I always thought you were hot, Joey, Lance thought, not intending a double meaning at all.

Cappucino and Bacon: Makes Me Wanna Dance

Janet Jackson paced the stage slowly, hands at the small of her back, as she sang through one of the numbers for her Velvet Rope Tour. From somewhere in the middle of the stadium, Justin was staring while trying to seem as though he were only watching with interest. "She's amazing," he breathed, turning to Joey on his left. "Isn't she amazing?" he repeated.

Joey exchanged quick glances with Lance and nodded at Justin. "Yeah," he agreed. "Amazing."

Justin smirked and rolled his eyes. "As if you even noticed. Go back to cuddling with your boyfriend, you. I'll just continue admiring the spectacle that is Miss Janet."

Joey nodded enthusiastically. "Will do!" Laughing, he slouched down further in his seat, taking advantage of the darkened arena as Lance reached across himself to rub his arm, resting his head on Joey's shoulder as he did so. They sat, not speaking, watching Janet run through her show but not paying any particular attention until it was nearly time for their own soundcheck.

"Oh, wow, I love this song," Lance exclaimed, as he did every time they watched sound check, as the bass riff for "Together Again" filled the stadium. He lifted his head off of Joey's shoulder, his hair brushing Joey's chin, as he settled himself to watch Janet run through with greater interest.

Joey glanced up at Lance, pausing for only a moment before he made his decision. "Okay, come on," he commanded, grabbing Lance by the hand and stepping around him to stand closest to the aisle.

"Wait! Where are we going? Joey, I wanna see her do this song!" Lance protested as he allowed himself to be led into the aisle, while Justin followed out of mere curiousity. Once there, Joey pulled Lance into a crushing, friendly hug, and the blond was silenced.

"We're gonna dance," Joey whispered into Lance's ear before pulling away, and their grins matched when they exchanged glances. Coordinating their efforts to dance proved more difficult as they each tried to lead the other, and Lance stepped on Joey's feet often enough that the latter knew it was no accident. He finally settled on guiding Lance through a jive routine, spinning him wildly while Justin egged them on, clapping.

Laughing, Joey clasped his hands around Lance's waist, pulling the younger man's back to his chest after he nearly collapsed with dizziness, as Janet finished her last number. The two doubled over, oblivious to the door swinging open and the dozen or so intruders that invaded the area, until Justin moved to stand before them, attempting to shield them with his own slender body.

"Press, you guys," he hissed through clenched teeth, and tossed his head to indicate the camera crew and reporters who had been allowed access to interview Janet about her tour. His friends' heads jerked up, and Lance immediately dipped his head again, busying himself with the task of removing Joey's hands from around his waist. Joey held on tight, refusing to budge, instead turning them so that his back was to the camera crew.

"You gotta let go," Lance whispered desperately, tugging on Joey's fingers. "Joe. Please. Come on. Let go." The overwhelming awareness of what press and media meant to their careers had Lance's mind reeling, panicking. They had hardly begun in America; one or two hit singles was not enough to cement a new pop group's career. There would be enough rumours, enough doubters, enough critics hovering.

"You guys," Justin insisted, still shielding their bodies, glancing at them over his shoulder and reaching behind him to tap on Joey's back. "Break it up, I said. Press."

Joey answered Justin sharply without turning to him, but his voice was not devoid of warmth. "We're playing, Justin. Ain't nothin' wrong with playing." He whispered soothingly to Lance, his lips tickling his neck. "We're just playing," he repeated, and somehow when he put it that way Lance didn't mind. They were just playing; the papers could giggle, the doubters could point fingers, the critics could take glee in it... but surely there was nothing wrong with affectionate horseplay between two friends and groupmates, was there? It was a faint hope; it was something.

And the feel of Joey's arms around him was warm. Strong. Comforting. And the truth was that Lance didn't want him to let go at all. He let himself go limp in Joey's embrace, stopped prying at his fingers, and concentrated on enjoying it. They held on for a moment more before Chris and JC arrived and they made their way around the retreating gaggle of press members to take the stage themselves.

In the Heat of the Night

The Fatone's house was quiet at this hour of the night except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the muted sounds of contentment that erupted from within Joey's bedroom. Two bodies lay in Joey's bed, fully nude, clothes long since discarded to the floor as hands and lips eagerly explored.

Lance sighed into Joey's embrace, his hands playing in Joey's hair, as his hips thrusted upwards into the older man's hand. His head rolled back upon the pillow, baring his neck, and Joey descended upon him, sucking on the skin there; he was careful, however, to aim his attention low enough that a mark would not be visible above the neckline of a t-shirt.

Joey continued stroking Lance's erection as his mouth moved from his neck, to his jawline, to his earlobe. He nibbled delicately on the soft flesh, entwining the fingers of his right hand in Lance's left, thrusting his hips against Lance the entire time. He finally brought his hand out from between them and allowed his erection to slip between Lance's buttocks. Just to tease; just to rest there; maybe to do more than that. He felt Lance's body shudder at the gesture, and smiled against Lance's neck, moving his face back up for a kiss on the mouth.

"Oh... God..." Lance moaned as softly as he could into the kiss, sucking eagerly on Joey's tongue, thrusting his own tongue further within the depths of Joey's mouth. He wondered at the passion, at the intensity of it all. He knew that in a few moments, just a few, he would reach his orgasm; and oh, he wanted it so badly... too badly to care that Joey's bedsprings squeaked softly on occasion, or that it probably didn't sound as though he and Joey were simply up late talking as they had told his parents they would be. But there was something ominous about the insistent pressure of Joey's hardness against him; and with that semi-conscious thought, he reversed their positions on the bed.

Lance shifted slightly as he straddled Joey's hips, the sheets on the bed sliding halfway off of his body to drag on the floor. He positioned himself so that both of their erections were ahead of him, and ground his pelvis against Joey's, bowing his head to drop a kiss upon his nipple. So close... moaning again, Lance rested his forehead on the older man's chest and closed his eyes, sliding a hand between their bodies to stroke Joey's stomach, his side, his upper thigh. "Why'd you--" Joey began, his voice heavy with desire, and Lance cut him off, placing a finger over his lips, and thrust again, more frantically now.

Joey came suddenly with a choked cry, digging his fingers into Lance's back, and Lance joined him as he felt the warm wetness spread over his stomach, shuddering and attempting to muffle his groans against Joey's skin. They lay happily entangled for a moment, motionless save for their breathless gasps for air, before Lance sighed into Joey's shoulder and rolled back over on to his back. He pulled the sheets back towards him, feeling the fall breeze from the open window hit his waist and chest, and waited for Joey to finish saying what he'd begun earlier.

"Why'd you stop me?" the question finally came, spoken softly; almost whispered, really, and Lance inhaled to answer.

He closed his eyes. "Because it's late. Because I'm not ready. Because I don't want our first time to happen just because we got caught up in the moment."

"Some of the best sex happens when you get caught up in the moment, Lance." Joey hadn't meant for it to sound as though he were arguing a case, but there it was.

"Good for you." The statement came out sounding a little more resentful than Lance had intended, but it represented his feelings fairly well, so he didn't regret it.

"No, Lance, don't be like that," Joey pleaded, turning on his side to face the younger man. "This isn't about me gettin' off; it never was." He swallowed, sighing, and brushed his hair off of his forehead, sticky with sweat. "It isn't about me getting carried away, either. I thought about it. I decided it. I wanted to do it." He let his hand drift to the blond's nipple, and he traced lazy circles around the darkened skin surrounding the bud, feeling it pucker and attempt to draw itself up into his touch. "Why wouldn't you let me? I mean, I just--" he cut off, flopping back against his pillow and removing his hand from Lance's chest.

"You just what?" Lance's voice was cautious, and now he turned to look at Joey, though he didn't make eye contact.

I just love you so much and I wanted us to be as close as possible.
He couldn't say that, could he? Would Lance believe him if he said it now, lying naked and next to each other in bed, the sweat and traces of their near-sex still lingering on their bodies? No, he decided; he couldn't. A profession of love now, and Lance would think -- even if he didn't let on -- that Joey was just saying it to get what he wanted. And Joey didn't want to say the words for the first time under these circumstances anyway. Not in the aftermath of lust and passion. He knew that the emotion would still be there later when he fell asleep, and when he woke up, and when the group was recording, and when he was sitting around with Lance doing nothing... and he wanted Lance to realize that. So now was not the time.

"Nothin'. Nevermind. I wasn't gonna say anything." Joey inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nose.

Lance opened his mouth to speak, then thought against it. Here was where Joey would be angry with him, would pull away, would ask him to leave his room. It had never happened before, but then again, they had never had this conversation before either. The thought that Joey might be upset with him for not wanting to have sex hadn't crossed his mind, but now that was precisely what he was thinking. He hated that it made him feel so defensive, but he was prepared to defend his logic if he had to. "Are you mad?" he asked softly, dreading the answer.

Joey blinked, not expecting that at all. "Mad? No, why would I-- no, I'm not mad," he insisted, and Lance's body relaxed slightly. "I just don't really know why you're so scared to let everything go. Let's just do it. It doesn't have to be a ceremony or anything."

"Joey," Lance said wearily, "do you think I don't wanna do this? That I don't wanna be with you?"

"You don't have to be afraid of it, Lance," Joey tried to reassure him. "We can make it work... I'd never hurt you intentionally. It would be amazing. It could be amazing. Why don't you even want to try?"

"Because this way it's equal!" Lance hissed fiercely, finally meeting Joey's gaze. "Because this way it's like... it's like we share, and it's not like... you give, and I take. Or I give and you take. I like it this way. I don't want it to change." He finished, sounding very defeated; feeling very defeated.

Joey studied him for a moment. "Who said sex is only about giving and taking, Lance? We can share that, too."

"Can we?" Lance asked bitterly. "'Cause I don't think we can. Even before, when I stopped you; what were you gonna do? You were gonna do what you're used to, because you've had sex with girls, and you're a guy. That's what you do. But if you're the guy, what does that make me?"

Joey was silent. He had the feeling that any answer would be the wrong one.

"It makes me the girl; that's what it makes me," Lance continued. "And I'm not a girl, Joey. That's not what I want to be in this relationship. And as long as we're not having sex, I don't have to worry about it. So can we just keep things the way they are? For now?"

There was another significant pause, and Joey seriously mulled it over. Of course he was willing to leave things the way they were, if it would make Lance more comfortable. What bothered him, however, was that he didn't know how he could ever remedy the situation. "Do you..." he began hesitantly, licking his lips as he tentatively reached out, caressing Lance's chest again. "Do you wanna be the guy? Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, Joe," Lance admitted, and Joey finally realized what he was hearing in his voice was fear. "I just know I'm not ready for it yet. Trust me," he chuckled wryly, "you'll be the first to know when I am." Another pause; then a thought suddenly hit him and Lance realized that he didn't know what time it was. "But I should probably get back to the guest room, shouldn't I?"

Joey sighed and leaned towards Lance slightly. "I guess you should," he smiled ruefully, knowing it wouldn't be visible in the dim light from the street. He kissed Lance then, lightly; a gently probing kiss that Joey hoped would convey the feelings he couldn't yet verbalize. He hoped that it would convey his apology. "Sorry," he murmured when they separated, just in case Lance hadn't gotten the message anyway.

Lance didn't acknowledge his words as he pulled out of Joey's grasp, slipping out of bed to gather his clothes from the floor. "If Steve asks what we were talking about so late, what're you gonna tell him?" he asked, slipping his shorts over his boxers and leaving them undone as he reached for his t-shirt.

Joey shrugged. "I'll tell him we talked about sex."

Lance snickered, rubbing his bunched-up shirt over his chest and stomach. "I guess he'll never know just what you mean by that."

"Exactly."

Lance came back over to the bed, sitting on the side next to Joey's head. "Okay, I'm outta here. 'Night." He snuck a quick peck to Joey's cheek before springing up again and padding his way softly out of the room. He closed the door behind him, and Joey tried to fall asleep without him, knowing that he was forgiven.

Close Your Eyes: ...And Let Me Kiss You

"Well, let's look at this objectively," Chris was saying, swinging his champagne glass by its stem, balancing it precariously between two fingers. "This past year we've won two music awards. Our debut is multi-platinum. Our Christmas album has been," he rolled his eyes, "obscenely successful so far. So, yeah, I'd say it's been a not-so-bad year in review," he concluded, finishing the contents of the glass with one gulp.

"Can it get any bigger than this?" JC mused, leaning back in his chair as he made eye contact with each of his groupmates. "I mean, this is already so huge..."

"Of course it can get bigger than this," Justin insisted. "Look, Michael Jackson had the biggest-selling pop album of all time. We're just getting started. We haven't even broken any records yet."

"Do we need to break records, though?" JC questioned. "Multi-platinum, Justin. Multi-platinum. We could quit today and be happy."

"And poor," Chris put in.

"Okay," JC conceded, smiling wryly, "so we have to wait a bit for the money to come in. I'm just sayin'," he gesticulated freely with his hands, "If it didn't get any better than this, it's still goin' pretty good."

Chris nodded slowly, fully agreeing with JC's points. "And we got a better table this year," he added, this time sarcastic. "We're moving up in the TransCon food chain, fellas."

"You know," Justin frowned, "you'd think after Backstreet left TransCon, we wouldn't still be getting IGNORED." His voice rose with the last few words and he looked around himself meaningfully, only catching the eye of a passing waiter, who glowered at him with disdain before moving on.

"So, predictions, anyone? Where do we go from here? Down? Up?" Chris gestured with his now-empty glass, turning it over and over in his hands.

Joey turned slightly in his chair to look at Lance, and the younger man caught his gaze at the same time. He smiled slightly, thinking that JC's words and Chris's question could easily apply to his and Lance's relationship. Could it get any better? He was in love, knew that Lance was in love with him; the confession had come over a week ago, when they'd gotten together to exchange early Christmas presents. Lance had said it first, in fact, and Joey had been surprised -- here he'd been trying to work up the nerve to say the words at the right time, unsure if Lance felt as strongly. But when Joey had murmured his inadequate 'I love you, too', Lance had merely laughed into their kiss and responded, 'I know'.

And with that, they'd decided it was time to tell their parents; Joey spent two days before Christmas visiting the Basses to support Lance when he broke the news, and then Lance had joined him in Orlando to tell his own family. They'd both been so worried; no matter how accepting their families might have seemed of homosexuality, it was quite another thing to spring upon them the news that their sons were romantically involved. Fortunately, it had gone better than they'd feared it might. There had been no hysterics, no angry exchanges, no disowning; only a stunned lack of comprehension. A sense that their families didn't understand, didn't know what to do with the information just yet, but that they would try to anyway, because they loved their children. Lance and Joey really couldn't have asked for more.

"...And," Justin was saying, reminding them, "Next year I'll be eighteen. Finally."

"Of course, lest we forget," JC joked. Justin leveled a glare at the older man, but laughed along with the others.

"Yeah," Joey finally contributed, eyes still sparkling in Lance's direction. "I think things are definitely looking up."

Chris narrowed his eyes at the couple. "Are you two gazing lovingly at each other again? Do I need to separate you?"

Lance simply grinned, glancing Chris's way. "You know, we could just take this elsewhere." He turned back to Joey and raised an eyebrow. "Let's blow this joint, go back up to our room and have wild, drunken sex. Whaddya say?"

Joey winked back at him, ignoring the fact that Chris was pretending to hang himself and JC and Justin were jokingly inching closer together as though preparing to kiss. "I say you're my hero?"

Justin placed his hand over JC's mouth and kissed the back of it amorously, feigning passion while JC moaned loudly to play along. Lance smirked at both his friends' antics and Joey's words, and slid his chair nearer to him at the table. He sighed, turning his head away slightly. "I'm feeling kinda sentimental," he admitted, so softly that Joey had to lean in to hear.

Joey cocked his head to the side, curious. "How come?" he asked, just as softly. His arm, draped casually across the back of Lance's chair, moved forward to contact Lance's body and his fingers started to stroke the blond's shoulder.

Lance turned mischievous eyes upon him, fighting a grin. "'Your cheek,'" he muttered dumbly, gripping Joey's knee with an outstretched hand. "'I meant to kiss your cheek!'" Clicking his tongue, he released Joey's knee, only to slap it. "Bastard."

Oh. "Oh."

Had it really been a year? They'd been through so much, as a group and as a couple, that he had genuinely lost track of the time. Joey laughed, catching Lance's hand under the table and giving it a squeeze before letting go. "You're not gonna get all sappy on me, are you?"

He received a shrug in response. "I thought maybe you might get sappy on me," Lance replied cooly.

Joey cringed, both inwardly and outwardly. Touchy subject. It wasn't until Lance had expressed his concern over being perceived as the "girl" in their relationship that Joey had started considering the way that they interacted with each other. So what, if Lance was the more sensitive of the two? Joey didn't see how that had to make things unequal between them, although at times they wrestled with the 'two captains' syndrome; arguing because they both were inclined to take charge of things.

There was a lot in the way in which he treated Lance that Joey knew he had learned from his father; Joe Sr. wasn't a dictator, nor was he bossy, but he was the boss in the Fatone household, in that way that meant his word was usually the final word on a matter. His mother, though, was hardly a weak woman and didn't allow herself to be ordered around; she exuded a quiet, powerful strength that he and his siblings had drawn on throughout their childhood as well.

The times that he had spent with the Basses had demonstrated that things in their family worked similarly to his own, and at the same time quite differently; it had helped him to appreciate his mother's contribution with newfound respect. While Jim Bass could still be considered the patriarch in that family, Diane somehow guided her family with a quiet leadership that Joey was beginning to recognize in Lance. It was that ability he had to empathize with others; Lance seemed to know when to let an issue drop, seemed to know when it was important to let somebody get their way, and when it was important to put his foot down and fight for something. He had such a way with people that Joey could see why he had such an interest in management, why he excelled at it.

He shoved at Lance's shoulder lightly, hoping to dispel the mood. "Oh, oh, Lance," he cried in a high-pitched voice. "You remembered our first kiss! How romantic! Gimme kissy!" Puckering his lips comically, he leaned deeply towards Lance's lap and let the latter push him away, blushing.

"Well, far be it from us to intrude on your little moment here," JC drawled loudly, his voice heavy with sarcasm, and both men swiveled their heads to regard him as he pushed his chair in, already standing. "We," he indicated himself, Chris, and Justin, "are gonna mingle. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he added as he turned away.

"Bye, guys! Bye, Pop!" Joey called amicably, holding up a hand in farewell. Lance gave a dramatic sigh.

"He's such a great dad, isn't he?" he asked, and the two nodded sagely at each other.

"Hey," Joey barked suddenly after a long moment without either of them speaking, "you're the one wearing a watch. How much longer 'til '99?"

Lance checked his wrist. "Just over a minute," he informed Joey, raising his eyebrows playfully at him. "Who're you gonna kiss this year?" He stuck his tongue out a little, excited.

Joey laughed at his enthusiasm. "Oh, I dunno," he joked, as he stroked his goatee in mock consideration. "I have my eyes on a few girls... hey, Justin's looking pretty good tonight. Maybe if I ask him..." Joey began to stand, fully expecting his wrist to be grabbed before he could leave his seat.

It was.

"Ha, very funny, gigolo," Lance smirked, pulling Joey closer to him, his motions still more or less platonic, if familiar, to bystanders. "Thirty seconds. Choose wisely or sleep alone tonight."

Joey clapped a hand over his mouth, feigning shock. "My stars! You mean you would actually deprive me, the love of your life, of wild, drunken sex? On New Years, no less?"

Lance narrowed his eyes at him, still smiling. "Try me, Joseph. I'm begging you. Just try me." His eyes darted to his watch again. "Thirteen seconds."

The countdown began from the crowd. Joey continued to stare at Lance, until the latter sighed and turned his head to watch the seconds tick away. Joey leaned forward, intimately close for anyone watching, until his lips brushed Lance's ear. "I love you," he whispered, his breath leaving a damp, invisible mist on the sensitive skin. Then he pulled back.

"Happy New Year!"

Suddenly hands were gripping his face, pulling him near, and Lance's lips were on his, pressing against him tightly. Joey closed his eyes, all thoughts of irony and déjà vu fleeing his mind. He opened his mouth, tracing Lance's lips gently with his tongue, and with a breathy sigh Lance's mouth was opened to him. Lance tilted his head slightly, touching his tongue to Joey's, and then their mouths closed, forming a gentle peck and feeling the pressure of teeth beneath lips. They kissed repeatedly, fervently, vaguely aware of the way their groupmates had protectively come to stand around them to shield them from prying eyes; to give them the privacy they deserved.

They were in a room with forty other individuals, but it was only the two of them that mattered.

Close Your Eyes: ...And Feel Your Way To Me

Lance abruptly slipped his hand out of Joeys' grasp once they stepped into the hallway, and Joey didn't protest. The kiss they'd shared back in the VIP room represented a rare lapse in judgement, and they both knew that they'd been counting on the other guys to cover for them. That Joey was an affectionate man was a very effective cover for much of what went on in their relationship, and although Lance had been tentative they had come to compromises on what they could and couldn't do in front of varying audiences. Hugging was okay, and so was wrestling or dancing around. Stolen moments between the two were essentially overlooked around crew and RCA or TransCon execs. But if there was a risk of cameras or fans being around, cautiousness reigned.

At any rate, that New Years kiss had left them both wanting more, so after a little bit more small talk and offered congratulations for the new year, it was time to make a quiet retreat. Lou had hired them a van to take them back to Chris's place, where Lance was staying, and now Lance was contemplating exactly how he wanted things to go that night. It might have been clichéd, but he found it strangely appropriate and even a little romantic; what better way to celebrate the anniversary of their first kiss than with another first?

Lance appreciated the fact that Joey had volunteered to be on the receiving end of their lovemaking, -- whenever they would come to that -- even moreso because he knew that it was not simply an idle gesture; if he had taken Joey up on on the offer Lance knew that he wouldn't be refused. But it was precisely because Joey had made the offer that Lance could never make good on it. Because what kind of boyfriend would that make him; to essentially say, 'okay, I'll get on top because I'm too afraid to let you do it'?

Most importantly, Lance was beginning to feel frustration at the fact that their relationship hadn't been fully consumated. Ultimately, one of them was going to have to take the stand, and with Joey eliminated that left himself. The odd thing was that now that he no longer felt as though he were being pushed into that position by default but rather that he chose it, he was a lot more comfortable with the idea than he'd thought he would be. It was hardly a sacrifice, after all; it was just going to be different. And different he could handle.

He was brought back to the present right around the point that Joey started gingerly licking his earlobe, teasing it between his teeth and scraping his neck lightly with his goatee. Lance barely felt the back of his head thud against the the wall outside of his bedroom as he arched his back in satisfaction; it drove him to distraction every time Joey did that, and the older man knew it well. "Joey..." he breathed, not sure if he'd spoken aloud as his hands tugged Joey's shirt out of his jeans. "I'm ready." He looked up and gave a sheepish grin when Joey pulled back in alarm. "Um... happy new year?"

"Wait... do you wanna talk about this first?" Joey asked, suddenly concerned, as Lance pulled him into his bedroom by the belt loops on his jeans, and Lance grimaced. If he were completely honest, the answer was that no, he didn't want to talk about it.

"What's there to say?" he asked, busily unbuttoning his own shirt, his light eyes boring intensely into Joey's dark ones as he pressed his hips gently against Joey's.

"How about, 'I've been thinking about this since the last time we talked about it and I don't want you doing something you'll regret'?" Joey queried, pausing to tug his shirt over his head.

Lance met him with a crushing kiss, wrapping one bare arm around his neck while he shrugged the other out of his shirt, and they fell to his bed together. He stroked Joey through the denim of his jeans as they kissed, and when they finally separated, they were both breathless. "I won't regret it," Lance assured him. "I want this. I love you; how could I not want this?"

"So what about that whole... being the guy thing we talked about? Does this mean you've decided? Do you wanna be the guy?"

"No," Lance shook his head, beginning to work at unbuckling Joey's belt, slipping his jeans over his hips. "No, not this time. I'm okay with it." He raised his head for another kiss, then allowed Joey to rid himself of his jeans and briefs while he worked on his own jeans. Joey moved his way back up Lance's body, caressing him all over with surprisingly nimble fingers. It was this restrained passion that Lance loved about Joey; while things certainly could become rough and heated between them, Joey almost always knew how to measure it out in just the way that Lance needed or wanted it.

KY Jelly was the only form of lubricant with which Lance was familiar, and he shivered involuntarily at the sensation of Joey's fingers, slick with the cool liquid, parting him both delicately and sensually, slipping inside of him. He kneaded Joey's shoulders, feeling Joey run his hands along his inner thighs, up over his stomach, playing with his nipples, and finally lowering to kiss him as he positioned himself between Lance's legs. There was a moment of pressure and resistance, and then suddenly Joey was in.

Lance's mouth fell open in a wordless 'O', recoiling slightly, and he closed his eyes against the initial pain. As Joey pressed on, he couldn't prevent a quiet whimper from escaping his throat. "Ow," he murmured involuntarily; the pain was not passing as quickly as he'd hoped it would. He fought the urge to squirm up and away from the intrusion; his eyes squeezed more tightly shut and he could feel tears of pain begin to slide down to his temples.

"Lance."

Lance heard Joey's voice, at once near and far away, yet it scarcely penetrated the cocoon of pain that enveloped him at the moment. He'd expected discomfort, even some pain; but this was... he didn't want to do this anymore. He let go of Joey's shoulders, afraid he'd draw blood, and clutched at the bedsheets instead, twisting them in his hands. "Ow... ow...." His tears were beginning to pool in his ears.

"Lance." He felt Joey's hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, and opened his eyes to gaze into Joey's own. Gradually Lance became aware of the fact that Joey had stopped moving, his face full of concern. "Lance, you have to talk to me here," he pleaded. "We don't have to do this. Do you want me to stop?"

Lance tried to lose himself in the sensation of Joey's hands gently stroking away his tears, and shook his head. It would only be as bad later if they tried again, he knew, and he didn't trust his voice to say the words. Mainly, he simply didn't want to cry. Tilting his hips upwards, he forced himself to take more of Joey inside, until Joey withdrew slightly and began to thrust gently within him. He swallowed the apologies and met every one of Joey's remorseful kisses until the pain was no longer the main sensation that he was feeling.

And as the pain abated, Lance became aware of something deep within him that made him shudder with a powerful desire. It wasn't enough to produce anything earth-shattering this first time, but when Joey came Lance was a little surprised to feel a sense of loss. He wrapped his arms around Joey's back, pulling him down upon him, and enjoyed the feeling of falling asleep holding Joey and being held himself.

Sick and Tired

It started off with a flu, innocently enough; a nagging bug that could be expected to hit any of the members of *NSYNC at any given time. Nobody, not even consummate entertainers, were expected to be healthy 365 days a year. While the normal prescription for such occasions was days of bedrest, however, these individuals were not afforded such luxury. So Lance had downed dozens of pills of flu medication, danced through fevers, ignored the chills, and suffered through the nausea, just as any of them did in the same situation.

It was such a chaotic time for the group, though; wrapped up in the midst of their latest US tour, they were already learning and recording songs for their next album. Hopefully, they could have a new album out, and a new tour, by the fall. But most importantly, they were trying to figure out a way to renegotiate their contract. And that was another source of stress for Lance, who often spent his mornings meeting with JC and his lawyer uncle as the professional attorney tried to explain the details of their situation to the interested young men.

They were all aware that the deal they had signed nearly four years ago left a lot to be desired, but such was the case with most recording artists; it simply went with the territory. But there were unique details in their case that made things sketchy; that they'd gotten their start in Europe and had somehow been signed on in the US as a foreign act. That not only their manager Johnny Wright, but also Lou Pearlman was calling the shots. That TransCon owned the rights to their name and merchandising privileges. That Pearlman wasn't taking in 40%, or even 50% of their earnings, but a whopping 60%, leaving the rest to be distributed among all of *NSYNC's payees.

The more they learned, the more upsetting it all was. Yet as depressing as it seemed, Phillip Chasez assured them that they ought to be able to settle on something that would make both parties happy, and Lance found the whole thing fascinating, even moreso than JC. So Lance often found himself up late at nights going over everything in his head, trying to make sense of it all. Joey encouraged him constantly, knowing that this was where Lance's talents lay. Initially, he also figured that if Lance was well enough to be up staring at some papers, he was well enough to go to a club for a few hours, even if it was just to take it easy. Usually, though, Lance would come home sick after a night out, so Joey stopped going out as often, too. None of this was very conducive to flu recovery, and so although Lance should have been feeling better in a week, two weeks went by, and then three; and he still hadn't stopped throwing up, was still having fevers and throbbing headaches.

Rehearsals and performances were the worst; it was the jumping around and all of the excessive heat that did it. But they rehearsed every day and had shows most days of the week. It was unavoidable, and the flu medication stopped working around the second week. And so it was that Joey sat hunched over his boyfriend in the impersonal hotel bathroom, rubbing his back in circles and wondering how Lance could get over the flu if he couldn't even rest for two days straight. And the thing was that no one else in the group knew quite how sick he was; they all knew that he was sick, of course, but he didn't complain or let on just how awful he felt a lot of the time. Joey himself only knew because they shared a room and Lance hardly kept things from him these days anyway.

"You feelin' any better?" he asked gently, as Lance flushed the toilet for the second time that day.

Lance rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl and reached out with a shaking hand, stroking Joey's knee in appreciation. "I wish I was dead right now," he moaned, closing his eyes, and meant it. He knew that in a short while he'd feel better, good enough to even hang out with the guys a little, maybe; but the thought of repeating it all tomorrow was too much to take right now.

"Hey, don't say that," Joey chided him. "If you were dead, then I'd be all alone."

A pause. Then, "I wish you were dead right now, too; how's that?"

Joey laughed, and Lance smiled weakly, feeling a little better already. Someone knocked on their door, and Joey stood to go see who it was. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," he called over his shoulder as he exited the bathroom and strode across the room to open the door.

"Hey, Joey," Justin greeted him, freshly showered and in full street gear, ready for a night on the town. It occurred to Joey that he was still wearing what he'd thrown on in the bus on the way back to the hotel; Lance had been so sick that neither of them had had time to shower or change since they'd arrived. "Me and Chris were gonna go hit a club. JC says to count him out, but we thought you and Lance might wanna come along. You interested?"

Joey hesitated. "Um... I dunno, Lance is sick--"

"He's still sick?" Justin interjected, his brow furrowing in concern. "I thought he was starting to feel better."

"He is, kinda," Joey lied, "he's just not feeling so hot right now 'cause of the concert. But just hang on, and I'll go see if he's up for hanging out or something anyway." Opening the door wider, he let Justin in and closed it behind the teenager before jogging back to the bathroom where Lance now stood over the sink, water dripping from his face and his forehead pressed to the counter.

"Hey," he whispered, "Justin wants to know if you're up for clubbing or something. Maybe he'd be okay with us just hanging out, though. What do you think?"

Lance shook his head against the counter's top. "I'm gonna go lie down, I think. Tell him tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Joey agreed. "I'll stay in, too."

"No!" Lance cried, his voice still low, and he lifted his head to look at Joey, his face still pale and his eyes red-rimmed. "No, you go. I'm gonna be sleeping; you'll be bored. Go clubbing and have a good time."

Joey eyed him carefully, not wanting to leave him alone and sick. "You sure?"

"Seriously. Go."

"Okay, um...." Joey reached for him in a concerned gesture, but Lance swatted his hands away insistently, straightening and heading for the door. At his confused look, Lance grinned.

"On second thought, you stink. Take a shower first."

Joey just nodded dumbly as Lance moved past him to greet Justin, wiping excess water from his face and running his wet fingers through his hair. "Hey, um... J? Joey's just gonna grab a quick shower and then he'll be good to go, but I'm gonna lie down, so how about I go out with you tomorrow?"

Justin nodded agreeably. "Yeah, sounds great. You sure you'll feel better by tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll be fine. I think it was just too humid or something in the arena tonight." Lance shrugged nonchalantly, sitting down on his side of the bed and allowing himself to fall over.

Justin narrowed his eyes, not believing him, but let the subject drop anyway. "Well, tell Joey we'll be waiting back in my room, okay? And feel better!" he added, turning back to the door to let himself out.

The light was still on in their room when Joey returned -- early -- that night. It was just as he'd expected; Lance was curled up in bed, yes, but he was still holding up a page from their contract that he'd probably spent the past hour trying to figure out. He should be asleep, Joey thought, frowning. A nap isn't enough.

"Do you think you might be wearing yourself out a bit, Lance?" he wondered aloud, slowly getting himself undressed for bed. He watched Lance carefully as he spoke, thinking, trying to form his concerns into words. "You're sick, but you're staying up reading that stuff when you could be sleeping and trying to get better."

"I am trying to get better," Lance replied, looking up from the papers briefly before glancing back down. "And this is important. This is our career here."

"I know it's important, but still," Joey argued. "And you're not trying as hard as you should. You should be sleeping right now. If you're sick you can't expect to get better on the same amount of sleep that you get when you're fine."

"You know," Lance began, an edge creeping into his voice, "this is coming from the same guy who asked me if I wanted to go clubbing tonight. And I said 'no'. I said I was gonna lie down. So who's trying to get who better?"

Joey looked away, feeling guilty, and feeling hurt that Lance had insinuated that he didn't want him to get well. "I asked because I didn't want you to feel left out. You know that."

"So now I'm like a charity case? You just ask me, even though you know I'm gonna say no, so you feel like you were nice or something?"

Joey had heard enough, and that comment stung; the reason they had become friends in the first place was because Joey hadn't wanted Lance to feel left out, not because he saw the younger man as someone to be pitied. He knew that Lance was becoming defensive because he thought Joey was nagging him, because he hated to feel mothered; Joey understood that, but he wouldn't stop being concerned just so that Lance could feel like he was a big boy. He loved Lance and wasn't going to leave him alone just because Lance was giving him a hard time. And he knew it was just that; Lance felt as though if he were a big enough pain, Joey would get angry and back off. But Joey knew better than to do that, and he suspected that Lance knew that much as well.

"Fuck you," he growled under his breath, stalking over to their shared bed and glowering at Lance from above. He reached out, tearing the contract from the younger man's hands, and tossed it to the ground at his feet. "Go to sleep," he ordered, and he caught Lance regarding him with wide, unbelieving eyes, his mouth set firmly as though he wanted to say something rude in return but was restraining himself. He ignored the look and got into bed next to Lance, reaching over himself to turn out the light on the nightstand, rolling over so that his back was to his groupmate.

Lance lay in the dark, his eyes still open, unable to quite believe Joey's nerve. He didn't have to... grab it from me like that, he thought; it wasn't often that Joey called him on his attitude. He considered responding, but thought against it because he really didn't want to fight, and his head was throbbing to begin with. There was also the nagging knowledge in the back of his head that Joey was right, but he was trying very hard to overpower that feeling right now.

He couldn't help it; he felt he needed to understand what was going on with the group, with their contracts, with their finances; JC simply wasn't as deeply interested in all of the details as Lance was. And if he was going to be managing recording artists of his own -- which he was already working on, with Johnny's help -- he'd need to know what not to do as well as what he ought to do. It was just so important to him, and there weren't enough hours in the day to do it all. He would gladly give up the dance rehearsals that made him sick to his stomach and spend that time learning all that he could, but that wasn't an option, so he didn't know what else to do.

Joey wasn't asleep yet, Lance knew. He turned over onto his side, hesitating, before draping an arm across Joey's midsection, pulling himself close so that his chest was pressed up against Joey's back and his nose was buried in his hair. Joey didn't pull away; when he got angry he didn't stay angry for long, and he wasn't the type to sulk or give the cold shoulder.

When he inhaled Lance could smell all of the scents Joey had brought back with him from the club; the sweat, the smoke, his cologne, different scents of perfumes from the girls that Lance knew Joey danced with but no longer cared about because he knew that in the end Joey came back to spend the nights with him and not them. He didn't know how he'd work out a balance for all of the things that he needed to get done in a day compared to what his body would require to get well, but he supposed that for his peace of mind as well as Joey's he would have to give it some thought. He hated being sick and he hated worrying Joey even more. Closing his eyes, he stroked Joey's bicep absently until the throbbing in his head eventually lulled him to sleep.

Needed

"Well, Mr. Bass," the nurse announced cheerfully, breezing into the sterile atmosphere of room 412, "it looks like the stream of well-wishers just won't stop for today." She moved briskly about the room, drawing the curtains to allow more natural light from the bright May afternoon into the room and set another two teddy bears down among the growing pile of stuffed animals left by friends and fans alike. Moving back to the door to admit the visitor, she added, "I don't want you doing anything too strenuous now, okay? No getting up and dancing next to the bed just yet, understand?" She winked, and Lance managed to crack a grin from where he sat propped up in his bed.

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

"That's the spirit," she encouraged him, and Joey stepped tentatively into the room, passing her on the way out. He held a small stuffed Tasmanian Devil clutched tightly within his fingers, and his motions were cautious.

"Hey, stringbean," he said softly, calling Lance by the nickname he'd come to use recently after Lance had begun to lose weight. He'd lost the weight due to being ill and worn down, but the nickname was Joey's attempt to keep things light despite the cloud of worry that had hung over the group as of late.

"Hey, carrot-top," Lance replied, returning the joke by referring to the newly dyed shade of orange that Joey was sporting in his short spiky hair. Joey knew that Lance hated it, but was trying to be positive about it at the same time. God, he loved Lance.

"Ooh, you got me a Taz? I'm spoiled."

Joey blinked, Lance's faint voice drawing him out of his thoughts. "Huh? Oh. Um, this," he held the stuffed animal in plain view as he approached the bed. "Yeah. I wanted to get you somethin', so.... And um... but I put a Superman cape on him. So, you know. Get both worlds going there." He chuckled nervously, holding the Taz up for Lance to take, and averted his gaze when Lance did reach up, an IV drip taped to the back of his hand. The needles and tubes only served to remind Joey of how ill Lance had become, a testament of what happens when a human body is pushed beyond its limits.

"How are you feelin'?" Joey blurted, reaching behind him to pull the chair next to the bed as close as it would come and seating himself within it. He made sure to meet Lance's gaze, knowing that he wouldn't be lied to; his warm brown eyes probed Lance's, more sunken in his face than Joey'd recalled them being in the month that he'd been sick.

Lance licked his pale lips, constantly dry now, and shrugged, setting his Taz aside. "Better than I did last night," he answered truthfully. Of course he felt better now; last night he'd collapsed right after filming *NSYNC's performance footage for ABC's Disney Summer Jam concert. The evening had gone by in such a blur; Lance had only been aware of the staggering dizziness and the cold sweats that had come over his body as he danced and tried to keep a light-hearted face for the cameras. He'd thought that he was going to pass out several times during the show, but prayed fervently that he would at least be able to make it through the requisite three numbers, that nothing would happen that could worry the fans.

And when finally, mercifully, the final shot had been filmed, Lance had felt as though he could let go, and realized that there was nothing holding him up besides sheer strength of will. He'd come to for a brief moment in the ER while his eyes were being pried open and someone was shining a bright light into them, asking him if he knew his name, but beyond that he'd spent most of the night drifting in and out of consciousness. Now he was fully awake, though tired, and his body ached a little. He wished he hadn't had to wind up in the hospital to get the break he'd needed, but what was important was that he was going to get better. And Joey was here; he loved that Joey was here. He loved Joey, period. That was most important.

"You know, the nurses here keep calling me 'Mr. Bass', like it's some formal thing or somethin'. I can't get them to stop." Lance laughed slightly, a moment before his eyes widened and he eyed Joey with concern. "How was the show?"

Joey shook his head. "It was a disaster. I don't know why you didn't let us cancel. We can't do shows without you. I mean..." he stopped, shrugging. "We dedicated the show to you."

Lance's brow furrowed, his eyes still wide, though this time with disbelief. "Joey, that's morbid!" he laughed, his voice breaking. "I'm not dead."

You didn't see what you looked like when we put you in the van to take you to the hospital.

"I know," Joey argued, stroking Lance's fingers where they lay at his side on the bed. "We were just so worried, and... and we missed you, and we were feeling it. And we wanted the fans to know how important you are to us."

"They know I'm impor--"

"We wanted to make sure they knew, Lance," Joey insisted, his voice and gaze intense. "We wanted 'em to know the show isn't the same without you. Even if all they care about is Justin," he added, smiling slightly. Lance smiled back, entwining his fingers in Joey's, and they fell into a silence, removed from the hums and beeps of the various machinery to which Lance was connected.

"So they tell me they're letting me out in a couple more days," Lance spoke up, studying the bedsheets around him. "And then I'm staying at my grandparents' place until I get the okay to start working again." There was a mixed blessing if he ever heard one; he longed for the opportunity to rest, to really be able to recouperate after being sick for so long. And he would be able to spend time with his family, uninterrupted, unintruded upon... for how long had he wanted just this chance to arise? But time away from the world meant time away from Joey. Joey, who had been there for him through these trying times, Joey who had sympathized with him, Joey who had covered for him when he needed it... Joey wouldn't be there for his healing.

"That's great; you'll finally get to rest. God knows you need it," Joey was saying, and Lance glanced up to meet his gaze, finding those eyes bronze and shimmering with wetness. No doubt Joey was thinking the same things that he was. He frowned at the vulnerability he saw in Joey's eyes. He knew that Joey partly blamed himself for his winding up in the hospital in the first place. Joey wasn't much for second-guessing, but Lance knew that Joey felt he should have insisted Lance rest more, that he shouldn't have encouraged Lance to go out, that he should have played doting mother somehow.

"Joey, don't...." he warned. He didn't need to explain what he meant. Don't get all emotional on me. I can't handle seeing you like this.

"You scared us so bad yesterday," Joey whispered vehemently, moving to grip Lance's hand tightly in his own, mindful of the juncture where metal needle met delicate skin. He pressed his mouth firmly to the back of Lance's hand and rubbed his thigh beneath the sheets, blinking back tears. "Don't you ever scare us like that again," he murmured, his throat hitching in a sob, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry," Lance said softly, unsure of how to comfort the older man. "I scared me, too." He pulled his hand from Joey's grasp and cupped his face in his hands. "I'm gonna be outta here in two days, Joe. I'm gonna be fine, the next show's gonna be great... so stop looking at me like that, okay?" A small smile was all he could manage at the time, but he tried to make it reflect in his eyes as he brushed the wetness away from the corners of Joey's eyes. When he didn't get a response, Lance used his hands to move Joey's head up and down in a nod. "Good," he cooed jokingly, "I'm glad you agree with me."

That finally brought out a grin in his boyfriend, and it occurred to Lance how odd it was that he'd had to cheer Joey up instead of the other way around. He was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, and closed his eyes, reclining further on his pillow. "Listen, I'm feeling pretty tired now, so um..." he trailed off, and heard the chair creak as Joey leaned forward.

"You want me to stay with you?"

Lance considered it, but the idea of having Joey keep some sort of bedside vigil while he slept seemed like something out of a bad movie, and sort of creepy besides. He opened his eyes. "You have soundcheck. I'll be asleep; I won't miss you." Lance ran his thumb over the side of Joey's hand reassuringly, and with a doubtful look the older man rose to his feet.

"Sure thing, then. You rest up and I'll come back tomorrow," Joey acquiesed, passing his hands over his face as though to wipe the melancholy feelings away.

"Gimme a kiss first?" Lance asked hopefully, putting on a mock pout.

Joey allowed himself to be pulled back down to Lance's bed for a peck on the lips, then parted his to invite Lance's tongue in for a quick swipe at the inside of his mouth before breaking the kiss. "You know the drill," he whispered against Lance's skin, pulling back to gaze down at him. The drill. 'I love you, and all that, so I don't actually have to say it'.

"I do," Lance agreed, smiling up at him, his eyes regaining some of their brightness despite the paleness of his face. "Now get out of here so I can sleep."

Joey threw up his hands in mock frustration. "I'm so unappreciated! Gimme back that damn Taz," he cried, reaching across Lance to retrieve the toy, but Lance gripped it stubbornly like a child, and Joey wouldn't have fought him for it anyway.

"Fine then," Joey exlaimed, backing away from Lance towards the door, reaching behind him to open it. "I love you, man," he called softly, congenially, as he stepped out into the hallway. No one would suspect that he meant it as more than a platonic gesture.

"You know the drill!" came Lance's hoarse yell in return.

Such An Expression

For the moment Joey was regretting his suggestion that the guys all go clubbing that night, but the way that Lance had seemed distracted by their legal troubles earlier in the day had bothered him, and he'd wanted to help cheer the younger man up. Joey was miserable when Lance was miserable, particularly when he couldn't do anything to remedy the situation. He couldn't personally speed up the wheels of justice, so when the judge said 'jump', the only correct response was 'how high'. And the judge had said 'settle'. So they still had the uncertainty of how they would be able to settle amicably with BMG/RCA and TransCon, but their legal team had proven themselves thus far, so they had faith that they would at least be able to walk away with more than they'd had originally.

The important thing, Joey thought, was that they would be able to keep their name. That had been the initial, almost suffocating fear; no matter how many "we're almost positive"'s their lawers uttered to assure them, the thought that they might not be able to use the name *NSYNC any longer was enough to make them all go weak in the knees. It had, as bad news often does, drawn the five singers closer out of sheer necessity, but Joey still marvelled at how the stress had enabled them all to get along even better than before rather than snap at each other all the time. If they were 'in synch' before, collectively they worked as a well-oiled machine now.

It had even brought Joey's and Lance's relationship to a whole other level; Lance's summer illness had taught them a lesson in appreciation for one another, but now their friendship was escalating as well. The only way that Joey could explain it was to say that he and Lance understood each other now, in a way that even he couldn't fully grasp. It went beyond merely supporting each other in their career ventures, or completing each other's sentences. It was scary; it was the best thing that Joey had ever experienced. And right now, he needed to know where the hell Lance was so that they could spend some time together. He really wished he hadn't suggested going clubbing.

"So, what hotel are you staying at?" the girl Joey was dancing with asked him. He perused her smooth features, sparkling slightly under the dance lights, and her black hair -- dyed, he was sure -- and shrugged. He kept his hands free of her, dancing near, but never quite touching his body to hers.

"That's top secret, my dear," he called over the pulsing beat, giving her a conspiratory grin and a wink for good measure. Besides, to tell her would probably be akin to inviting her and twenty of her closest friends to camp out in the hotel lobby for him. And *NSYNC had enough of that already.

"I just figured that maybe if I knew where your hotel was, I could visit you in your room later tonight," she put in nonchalantly, placing her hands on his hips. Joey let her; he had her pegged as harmless. Still, he didn't mimic her gesture, still depriving her of contact on his end.

"Mmmm... I don't think that'd be such a good idea," Joey pointed out. "I've already got someone meeting me in my room."

"Oh," the girl acknowledged, nodding slowly and trailing one hand up Joey's back to rest on the back of his neck. "Lucky girl. Is it serious?"

Joey could have laughed. This girl was very acquainted with the game he used to play so well until he and Lance had started dating. He would say that no, it wasn't serious, and she would say that they should find a place where they could be alone, and he would say that that sounded good... and they would both emerge looking flushed and happier half an hour later. As happened so often, thinking of Lance and sex made Joey's body begin to ache for his boyfriend's touch, and he started to pull away from the girl's grasp slightly.

"Serious as a heart attack."

Her hands trailed back down to his waist and continued on their path downwards. "You say that like it's a good thing."

Joey rolled his eyes, always amazed at how someone could fail to take 'no' for an answer. He gave a startled jump, breaking out of her grasp entirely, and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. "Sorry," he apologized, "I think that's my girlfriend vibrating me." Making a grand show of brandishing his phone and flipping it open, he turned from his dance partner slightly and went through the motions of his one-sided conversation.

"Hello?" he asked the silent device. "Oh, hi, baby, how are ya?" He paused as though listening, then nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I missed you, too. You know I can't do without you, baby." Another pause, and then Joey allowed a cunning grin to cross his face. "Nothing. What're you wearing?" He didn't look to his side to view the girl's reaction, hoping that Lance would show up soon. If he kept up with the make-believe phone sex much longer, though, he thought he might just ditch the girl and start looking for Lance himself.

As if on cue, Lance approached, stepping into Joey's line of sight, and met his grin as though he knew it was intended for him. "Who're you talkin' to?" Lance's voice carried well through the club and over the beat of the music; it always did, Joey noticed.

Joey glanced to his side and noted with relief that the girl was gone. "Nobody," he responded, pulling the phone from his ear and folding it up to put it back in his pocket.

Lance eyed him strangely, but didn't pursue the questions that Joey was sure he had in mind. Instead, he nodded to the now vacated spot by Joey's side. "What happened to your friend?"

Joey smiled broadly, stepping forward and starting to head away from the dance floor, Lance keeping next to him. Now, with Lance in the vicinity, Joey wanted to get him alone as quickly as possible. "She's the reason I was talking to nobody on the phone." Looking up, he caught Lance regarding him with that same dubious expression, and waited.

It didn't take long. "Are you gonna tell me what you're talking about, or do I have to guess or something?"

"I pretended I had a call to get rid of her," Joey explained, unable to hide his amused smirk.

"Ohhhh," Lance nodded in realization. He pursed his lips. "Wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, huh?"

Joey agreed, sighing. "And after I told her I was with someone and that it was more serious than a heart attack, too."

Lance shrugged as they finally made it clear of the dance floor. "Maybe she didn't believe you 'cause that's such a cheesy line."

Joey didn't respond, choosing instead to kick out sideways with his foot and buckle Lance's knees. The younger man stumbled with a yelp, and then Lance shoved him playfully in retaliation and took off running, jostling through the crowd of patrons just entering the club. Joey followed, knowing that Lance would allow himself to be caught, but looking forward to the chase.

"What are ya doin' now?" Joey asked Lance, grinning mischievously as he kicked the bathroom door closed behind him and started over towards their bed.

Lance glanced over at Joey from where he sat propped up against the wall, watching TV, and gave him a small smile before turning his attention back to the screen. "Nothin'," he responded coyly. He'd already had his turn in the bathroom and was dressed almost identically to Joey, in a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Nothin', huh?" Joey climbed clumsily on to the bed, straddling Lance's legs and placing a hand on either side of Lance's hips. He was so hungry for Lance's attentions that the slight contact of Lance's thighs beneath Joey's buttocks almost made him sigh in anticipation. "Can you make some time for me then?"

Lance looked up at him, expressionless. "You're blocking the TV," he said flatly, arching an eyebrow. Joey cocked his head and continued to watch Lance struggle not to smile, but he could see his cheek starting to dimple near his mouth and decided to take action.

Joey smirked, reaching forward and plucking the remote from Lance's grasp as he took Lance's hands in his. Pulling Lance up into a sitting position, he leaned in and placed his mouth against Lance's ear. He slowly licked a path along the contours within, leaving a wet trail, then blew against the wetness, whispering, "Oh, am I now?" He smiled, hearing Lance exhale; a long, drawn out sigh.

Pulling away slightly, Joey dropped Lance's hands and looked at him pointedly. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Lance averted his gaze, pursing his lips as he retrieved the television remote. "I forget what I was saying," he confessed, his voice husky as he traced his finger around the 'Power' button.

Joey smiled and leaned in again, so that his breath tickled against Lance's skin. "I thought so," he murmured, claiming Lance's lips with his own as Lance finally shut off the TV, plunging the room into near darkness.

Linking his fingers within Lance's again, Joey stretched their arms back towards the wall, pressing Lance gently against the mattress as they kissed. Lance's mouth tasted like beer and cola and something sweet -- maybe strawberry tequila -- and Joey took it all in, thrusting his tongue against Lance's, running it over Lance's teeth and along the roof of his mouth. His desire inflamed when Lance moaned and shook his head slightly at the tickling sensation, and he pushed down slightly with his hips, feeling Lance's hardness rubbing against his own through their underwear.

Joey pulled back long enough to allow them both to rid themselves of their t-shirts, then dove in again for a bruising kiss that left them gasping. He reached out and braced himself against the wall with one hand as Lance lifted his head to tease one nipple with his tongue and teeth, kneading at the other gently. Slipping a hand down between their bodies, Lance hooked his thumb in the waistband of Joey's boxers and tugged them down as far as his hand could reach. Taking the hint, Joey put all of his weight back on to his knees and helped Lance to free them of the obstructive clothing, then sat back on his haunches to admire him.

"Hmmm, you're startin' to go a little soft," Joey observed, running his fingers along the flesh at Lance's sides.

"Okay, I know you don't want to go there, Joe," Lance warned, flicking his fingers gently against Joey's stomach, and they both laughed.

"Okay, you're right," Joey admitted, grinning sheepishly. "Can you believe we used to be all scrawny? Now, we're like... big hunks of... manly men!" he crowed, lifting both arms to flex his biceps, then glanced at the muscles and curled his lip as though the view were unimpressive. He shrugged and brought his hands back down to Lance's waist.

"I feel kinda out of shape, actually," Lance conceded guiltily, his fingers still resting against Joey's stomach. "Like, I get more tired doing our shows than I used to. I dunno. Maybe I need to work out."

"I know what you mean," Joey agreed. "We should have more sex -- that burns calories, you know."

Lance chuckled, his stomach contracting beneath Joey's splayed hands, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it does. But I was thinking more along the lines of going running instead. Get a treadmill or somethin'."

Joey shrugged. "Sounds good. Want me to come running with you?"

"No, Joey, I want you to stay in our warm bed sleeping while I get up at the crack of dawn and run all by myself."

Joey scoffed. "Hell if I'm gonna get up at the crack of dawn to run, even for you, babe. Why not nights?"

"If I say nights, will you come with me?"

"To be honest with you," Joey stated, trailing his hands down to Lance's groin and tugging gently on his erection, "I'll say anything you want if we can just stop talking for now."

Lance's eyes rolled slightly at the contact. "Deal," he mumbled, and the corners of his mouth turned up when his boyfriend gave him a satisfied grin. He allowed Joey to lubricate them both well with the lotion they had discovered worked better than store-bought lube, and watched as Joey lowered himself on to his erection.

Joey's jaw clenched at the initial discomfort -- which, he was glad to note, lessened every time -- but he remained silent; the only sound in the room came from Lance's sharp intake of air at being surrounded by Joey's warmth. Joey's own erection surged as he began to move upon Lance, each stroke brushing his prostate, and he could feel his forehead beading with sweat at his exertions. Lance reached out to stroke him, his fingertips dancing lightly along Joey's length, his thumb tracing circles over the tip, rubbing the moisture into his skin. Their hips met again and again in perfect time, and Joey wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss Lance, but he was enjoying watching his lover's face as they made love far too much to ruin it.

Joey could feel his point of no return quickly approaching with the dual sensations of Lance's hand on him and Lance within him, and then Lance's lips finally parted, allowing his first moans to escape. Joey sped up his ministrations, tightening his muscles around Lance and groaning out Lance's name as a white-hot wave of pleasure crashed over him and he came almost violently in Lance's hand. He forced his eyes to stay open as he dared to kiss Lance briefly, making sure to pull back up before he missed anything.

Almost immediately, Lance reached up desperately, clutching at Joey's forearm with his free hand and moaned through his own climax, his eyebrows furrowed as though he were in pain. His eyes began to water with the intensity of it all, and despite Joey's obvious masculinity, he looked so beautiful to Lance right then that he wanted to make love to Joey again, just to see that face. When Joey descended for another kiss, Lance raised his head and met him halfway, reaching up to press against the back of Joey's neck and keep him close. With the way his heart was still beating wildly, Lance wondered if he'd need to take up jogging after all.

Epilogue: Let's Be Ridiculous

"Hey, Lance?"

"Mmmmm?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

Lance opened his eyes slowly and gave up on sleep for the time being, yawning a little. "No, I wasn't really asleep." He turned his head and watched Joey stroke his shoulder absently. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin', I just..." Joey paused, uncertain. "I just wanted to ask you something." He sighed slightly, deliberating. "You still wanna get married someday, right?

Lance lifted his head off of Joey's shoulder in surprise. "What?"

Joey looked at Lance, feeling the tension that suddenly coursed through his body, and cursed his ambiguity. "You know... meet a nice girl, settle down in five or ten years, have some kids, all that. You still wanna do that, right?"

"Oh, sorry," Lance chuckled sheepishly and rested his head back down. He hadn't given it much thought at all in recent months, actually. He was so happy, so... in love with Joey, with being with him, with the way Joey made him feel about himself. Despite how far off of his life plan the relationship was taking him, he had lost sight of his previous goals and they had become mere sound bytes to be recited for interviews. "Yeah, I guess," he said finally, suddenly feeling saddened. "Do you?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Joey turned his head away from Lance, shrugging, and Lance's hair glided easily over his skin when he moved. "I guess so too," he agreed. "I mean... we can't... whatever. I dunno. I mean, eventually, we're gonna..." he sighed again, heavily. "This isn't forever, you know?" He glanced back at the blond, trying to see into his eyes even in the dimness of the room. "I don't know how it would work," he concluded simply, his voice thick.

Lance propped himself up on one arm and studied Joey's face as he considered Joey's words. He supposed that was that. He had never intended to... live with Joey, to really commit himself for life. Joey was just always there, but it wouldn't be that way forever. No matter from which direction he approached it, they would have to go their separate ways sooner or later. Even so, Lance couldn't imagine what his life would be like without Joey -- and he didn't want to.

He placed his other hand over Joey's heart and felt its rhythm beneath his palm. "We don't need to think about that for a long time, though," he said, trying to reassure himself as well as Joey. He didn't want to think about it at all. He just wanted to lay there with his arms around Joey until they both fell asleep, and to do it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, for as long as they could possibly sustain it.

"I know, I know," Joey replied, resting his own hand on top of Lance's where it lay on his chest. "I just got to thinking. It's crazy, I know. Just... never mind." He flashed Lance a large grin, clearly visible in the faint light from the city skyline, and suddenly Lance had no choice but to return it with a smile of his own, all teeth and a hint of gums and eyes that crinkled softly. He lowered his head onto Joey's chest, moving his hand down to caress the planes of his stomach, and the two lay in a comfortable silence until Joey feared that Lance might have fallen alseep again. "Lance?"

Lance stirred only slightly. "What," he murmured, his hand stilled upon Joey's stomach.

"We could do it," Joey blurted, not knowing where the words were coming from. "You know, stay together... who says we have to end this? Who said we need to do the traditional thing? Who's that for, anyway? The fans? Our parents? The media? Fuck 'em. Why can't we just..." His breath caught in his throat as his hand stroked Lance's cheek gently, the skin so smooth under his fingertips. The thought of ever being without Lance nearly suffocated him. "Why can't we just be the way we are?"

The pause drew on for so long that Joey felt foolish at having made such a proposition when Lance was obviously asleep; he knew that given the opportunity he would never be able to say the words again. With a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes and was about to try to get some sleep when Lance suddenly spoke again.

"I really want kids, Joe," he breathed sadly against Joey's skin, his deep voice wavering.

"Yeah, but--look, we can adopt," Joey said quickly, his arm immediately sweeping over Lance's bare back to rub it comfortingly. "Or, you know... there are lots of options for us." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm just babbling."

Lance thought about it, then smiled ruefully. "We'd make great dads," he admitted, commencing rubbing Joey's stomach again.

"We would," Joey agreed. "My Two Dads," he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke, and Lance joined in, turning his head so that his chin rested on Joey's chest.

"You know, we're way too young and busy to be thinking about all this," Lance reiterated, then stretched a little and smiled contentedly, staring up into Joey's eyes, which were focused lovingly upon him. "But it's good to know that we don't have to end this if we don't want to," he added seriously. He was surprised to find himself willing to map out a new future for himself if it would include Joey. Lance made a face; when had he gotten so sentimental and cheesy, anyway? "Okay, why do I suddenly feel like breaking into song?" he laughed.

Joey smiled wickedly at him, continuing to rub his back. "I've got chills," he sang quietly, his grin spreading as he did. "They're multip--" He cut off with a grunt as Lance punched him not-so-lightly in the side.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Lance cried, feigning annoyance, yet grinning widely. Joey laughed off the pain and squeezed Lance more closely to him, enjoying the way the younger man felt in his arms. They fell silent again until Joey felt Lance's voice vibrate through his body again.

"Earth angel... earth angel..." Lance began, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smile. He leaned back to rest on his pillow, suddenly wary as Joey half-sat to glare down at him.

"Okay, that's it," Joey whispered, grabbing Lance's right arm with his right hand and pinning it between them with his weight as he took hold of the left arm and held it immobile. Leaning heavily on the blond, Joey knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore the pleas in Lance's eyes and his contrite words of apology. He poised his fingers as though prepared to assault his lover's body with tickles, then lowered his head to kiss Lance's lips sweetly. They lingered there, Lance having given up the struggle against Joey's grip, until Joey rolled back over and they lay side by side once again.

"So we can take this one day at a time, right?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if this was what Lance would really want, and knowing that if it was, nothing would make him happier.

Lance smiled in relief and closed his eyes. "Yeah. One day at a time sounds good to me."

End.