Buying A Clue
by Lennie

Justin sat down directly in front of the door to the bus, folded his arms and glared. He was on time. He was even back early. And what did everyone else do? They had the audacity to be late! Except Lance, of course, but Lance was Lance and had important boring to be doing anyway. Being on the bus because you had stuff to do there didn't count. So he was going to keep glaring at the door until it opened, and then he was going to glare at whoever had opened it.

He had been glaring patiently for what felt like an awfully long time before any of the other guys made their presence known. Sadly for Justin's glare, it was Lance.

"Justin?"

"What?"

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to. Jeez, Justin."

Well, he was getting bored anyway. "Fine. Don't get your panties in a bunch..." He got up and slouched over to the couch, not ready give up looking aggrieved yet. "What?"

Lance didn't look up, just pointed at the floor. "That."

Justin looked. "It's a cockroach."

"I know what it is. And it isn't staying in here." The finger pointed more imperiously. "Do something about it."

Justin blinked. Then grinned as he realised just how tightly Lance's legs were tucked up underneath him. "Oh, this is priceless..." He put one hand to his ear and curled the other around an imaginary microphone. "Reporting from the *Nsync bus, this is Justin Timberlake with a shocking world exclusive. Lance Bass, he who thinks he gets to mock the masculinity of others just because he has the deepest voice, is afraid of bugs. The truth has finally come out and is bound to rock the world of boybands to its foundations. Lance Bass... is a girl."

"Shut up, you asshole. I'm not afraid of roaches." Lance smacked at Justin with a handful of papers. "I just don't like them."

"And you made me get up because?"

"Because I don't want to. I'm busy." Lance looked up impatiently. "Kill it," he demanded.

"Isn't that a little cruel?"

"It's a fucking cockroach, Justin."

"Whatever you say, Lancene." Justin crept up, then stomped heavily. "Lazy-ass girl."

Lance looked down and made a face. "Yuck. You'd better clean that up."

"Who died and made you queen?" Justin reached over and stole one of Lance's pieces of paper to slide the dead body onto.

"Hey! I need that!"

"You can have it back." Justin tossed the little corpse out the door and returned the paper with a smirk. "Seriously, Lance. Pointing at things and ordering me to kill 'em? I thought we settled this." He plopped down on the couch and prodded Lance companionably. "You're too short to play Darth Vader, man, no matter how much you work on the voice."

"Hey, you never know when being able to sound like that will come in handy. Gets you to do shit for me, anyway."

"It did not. I was just bored enough."

Lance looked over and grinned wickedly. "I find your lack of faith disturbing," he rumbled softly.

Laughing, Justin held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Quit with the death sentences and the order-giving, you can be the supervillain when we make the *Nsync superhero action adventure cartoon."

Lance winced but smiled. "The *Nsync superhero action adventure cartoon?"

"There's lip gloss with our faces on it. It's only a matter of time before the superhero action adventure cartoon." Justin took Lance's laugh as agreement and went on. "So you're gonna be the villain, and Chris will be the leprechaun or something...."

"And since you kill things for me, that makes you my minion." Lance smiled sweetly. "Arch-villain Lance Bass and his little helper, Juppy."

"Hey." Justin brought out the glare he'd been practicing on the door. "I'm nobody's minion. Does this look like the face of a minion? Is this the voice of somebody's little helper? I don't think so."

Lance hmmmed thoughtfully. "You're right. You don't have the temperament to be a minion."

"Damn right." Justin nodded firmly.

"But you do kill things for me, so you'll just have to be my deadly, treacherous and incredibly vain trophy-mistress," Lance finished, completely deadpan.

After a long second of staring, Justin burst out laughing. "Trophy-mistress?!" he hiccupped.

"Hey, we arch-villains don't make honest men of anybody." Lance put the laptop onto the floor and grinned. "We see, we want, we tickle into submission..."

Justin grabbed Lance's hands before they could reach him. "No fucking way! That's worse than minion."

"It is not! The trophy-mistress gets to do all the fun stuff and be a total slut."

"Are you calling me a tramp, Bass?"

"I said slut. Anyway, the trophy-mistress always gets to throw the tantrums and do the cunning plots. Seriously, it's you." Lance grinned at Justin's offended expression. "You'd have to be all flirty and go after the hero. You love a flirt challenge."

"I'm not talking to you anymore," Justin sniffed, looking away.

"Well, that's not what Hero Joey'd say, but it'll do. Look, I'll show you." Lance shuffled over until he was up against Justin's side, then rested his hand earnestly on the closest shoulder. "You saved me from the wicked but amazingly handsome Arch-Villain Lance." He tilted his head down and looked up through his eyelashes. The eyes were coy, but the leg that slid up until it was hooked over Justin's knees wasn't. "You don't know what it's like to finally find a man who sees that I'm not bad... just misunderstood." He was still looking soulfully up when he shifted his weight so that he was straddling Justin's lap. "What can I ever do to repay you?" he breathed, tilting his head suggestively.

Justin looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't do that."

"Just, you do stuff like that all the time."

Grinning, Justin patted Lance on the head. "Yeah, but I'm too tall to do that looking up thing."

"Hey!" Lance punched the shoulder he'd just been stroking. "No making fun of the arch-villain's height!"

"Just telling the truth!" Justin said, trying manage wounded innocence.

"Okay, that's it. The trophy-mistress is going to have to be punished now."

"I said I couldn't be the-" laughter broke off Justin's sentence. "Hey, no tickling!" He grabbed for Lance's hands again and they struggled for a moment before they were distracted by someone else speaking.

"Chris!" Joey called with a grin. "Get in here! The babies are playing a grown-up game."

"What?" Chris bounced up the steps and looked around curiously, then stopped. "Okay, nobody tell the press about Justin's little Lance hobby..."

"It's perfectly innocent, I swear," Lance swore with a grin that was anything but.

JC appeared behind Chris and looked at the papers that had ended up spread around the floor and Lance sitting in Justin's lap. "If it's not something that we're going to have to say we never saw, what the hell are you guys doing?"

Lance cleared his throat. "Justin said that when they make the *Nsync superhero action adventure cartoon I get to be the arch-villain. But an arch-villain needs the right entourage, so I'm trying to teach Justin how to be a vain but deadly and treacherous trophy-mistress." He used Justin's distraction to get through a quick attack on his side. Justin squirmed and laughed. "See? He's getting it."

"We're making a cartoon?" Joey asked with a wince.

"How come I don't get the trophy-mistress?" Chris demanded louder.

"Because you're the magic midget and they just get bad puns," Lance managed as he tried to fight off retaliation.

"Leprechaun," Justin corrected, tipping Lance off onto the floor with a loud thud and trying to pin him onto the carpet.

"Whatever," Lance laughed and tried to kick Justin off. "As long as I get to be the one with the trophy-mistress."

"Reality to Lance." Justin snorted. "If anyone's getting a trophy-mistress, it'll be me. Because I'm-" The end of his sentence was cut off by the rest of the band finishing it for him, very loudly.

"Justin Timberlake!" JC and Joey said in chorus.

"Too young to have a real one!" Chris declared.

"A superSTAH!" Lance shouted over the top of them all. Then giggled as Justin growled and tickled him some more.

* * *

"You can't just be Lance," Justin announced into the middle of a commercial break that nobody except him was watching.

"What?" Lance looked up, wondering who else he was supposed to be and how he was supposed to manage it. Frankly, sometimes he ran out of time to be Lance.

"I mean, come on. Lance? That doesn't say all-powerful villain. It says more 'hi, my name's Lance and I'll be your waiter this evening'."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Okay, from a guy who answers to Juppy Timberlake, that kinda stings."

Justin sniffed and turned back to the television. "I'm not the one who wants to be the arch-villain." He waited for the next commercial break, then turned around again. "So what the hell would we call you?"

Lance didn't answer or acknowledge Justin's existence in any way.

"Lance!" Justin reached out to prod Lance in the thigh. "La-ance..."

Chris shook his head and pushed at Justin with one foot. "You don't diss the name, man."

Wriggling around like a determined puppy, Justin nudged Lance harder. "Lance. Lance. Lance. Lance." He dug a finger into Lance every time he pronounced the A. "Lance Lance Lance Lance Lance LanceLanceLanceLanceLanceLance-"

"WHAT?!"

Justin smiled the smile that made teenage girls cry and turned surly grandmothers working behind the counter of a 7-11 at three in the morning to mush and rubbed his head against Lance's knee. "Sorry?"

Bus-fever. Blowing all disagreements out of proportion and making the way people you loved sat into a crime that should be punishable by death. Intellectually, Lance knew that. He just didn't care, which was the other symptom. "Fuck off."

A moment of pouting, then Justin climbed up onto the couch and looked pathetic, moving around to stay in Lance's line of sight. "Lance is a perfectly good name, I was just trying to get your attention. And I said I'm sorry, so you have to talk to me. I won't shut up until you do. Lance. Laaaaaaance. Lance, darling." He smiled as Chris sniggered and Lance's expression of sulk slipped for a second. "Sweetheart. Honey. Cupcake. Pumpkin." He frowned. "Why is it always food? Like, baked stuff and breakfast food." He looked at Lance again. "Muffin. That's all cute. But if I called him a bagel he'd punch me or something."

"So would I," Chris said, sounding more amused than Lance thought was fair. Then again, in Chris' world 'Justin annoying Lance' was a favourite floorshow.

"See?" Justin moved again to intercept Lance's glare at Chris. "Lance. Darling. Lance. Lance. Crumpet. Stop being such a shitty little motherfucker."

Lance burst out laughing. "Crumpet?"

"The arch-villain Crumpet. Yeah, that'd scare me." Chris tried to stay aloof from Lance's laughing fit, but didn't quite succeed.

Beaming, Justin bounced up. "Crumpet it is!"

Lance wheezed. "Justin, sweetpea, you're just fucked up. And so's Chris."

"Sweetpea sounds so funny with the southern accent." Chris shook his head. "Damn, I'm hungry now."

"Make me some," Justin ordered as Chris headed towards food.

"Get over yourself, sweetpea," Chris replied with a smile and an utterly appalling imitation of Lance's accent.

* * *

Even stupid jokes could spread and survive almost perpetually as long as they'd once been funny. Especially among guys, because they, like small children, firmly believe that if something is funny the first time it's funny every time. Like the pseudo-word 'superSTAH!', which was dragged out every time someone's ego got to the point where the others didn't think it could fit on the bus. Or were bored or something.

Likewise, whenever Lance demanded something in the Darth Vader voice then Justin would fall over laughing. And, if he was in the mood to play along, sometimes do it. Then the joke would expand outward, until Chris threatened to kill them both. That was how Joey came to be called SuperJoe most of the time (using Superman would have raised unfortunate copyright issues). Then it was decided that JC would be the guy who wrote exciting songs about SuperJoe's adventures (none of them remembered, or at least would admit to remembering, the right word) providing, in Lance's words, the good guys with a brain of some description albeit on another planet. For that the arch-villain was attacked, trapped, and thrown briefly in prison. Then JC needed to pee, so they let him out.

The joke grew and, at least as far as Justin and Lance were concerned, didn't stop being funny. Especially when the people working backstage looked so disturbed by Justin referring to Lance as 'the Arch-Villain Mr. Crumpet' and lovingly elbowing him into a wall.

Chris looked into the mirror at himself, then at the others in various stages of costume tweakage. "You know, sometimes I have a little detachment from reality moment and think 'what the fuck am I wearing?' for a few seconds. Then I remember."

"Dude, your generation gap is showing." Justin grinned as Chris responded by miming embarrassment and checking the back of his pants. "Anyway, it could be worse. You could be Lance and have reality-warping legs."

Lance glared from the table. "My legs are perfectly normal. It's the pants that are weird."

"Don't twist like that," the woman pinning at the cuffs of his pants said firmly.

"They're pants, Lance. Pants that used to fit you, so obviously you've managed to sneakily make your legs shorter somehow. How you can do that I have no idea, but you did."

"Actually, I'm not sure these are my pants..." Lance looked down. "They must be someone else's pants. There's no other explanation."

There was a sigh from near his feet. "I'm going with you warping reality, because these are definitely your pants. Be right back." Lance's pants-fixer gave his ankles a last suspicious look and hurried out of the room.

Chris shook his head. "Lance, give in. Even if they got them mixed up somehow, everyone else is wearing their pants. And ours fit."

Lance muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'that's because y'all suck'.

"Aaw. Poor li'l Crumpet." Justin grinned and climbed up onto the table, which creaked in pain, draping a length of black cloth over Lance's head and shoulders. "But hey, look! Arch-villain cape!"

"Jup, don't think you can distract me from one of you having done something weird to my pants AND you calling me a weird breakfast food by... ooh." Lance had turned far enough to see himself in the mirror.

Justin grinned and tied the 'cape' on before resting his chin on Lance's shoulder. "Damn, you look evil."

"And Chris looks leprechaun-y." Lance smiled sweetly at Chris.

"I do not." Chris looked into the mirror again and shook his head. "Little fuckers."

Justin laughed. "Calling me little? Chris, you're up to my knee."

"You're standing on the table! And you're both children." Chris shook his head mournfully. "You see, that's what's really sad about this. You two make me look mature."

"You?" Lance folded his arms and looked down with a raised eyebrow.

Chris looked up with an equally condescending expression. "Hey, I never terrorized a bodyguard by tackling Justin from behind and calling him 'my favourite nymphette trophy-mistress, Sweetpea the Terrible'. Face it, Lance, you're getting as bad as him. You're wearing a cape."

Lance flipped his cape back over his shoulders. "Juppy, I think it's time to put the secret plan to seize control of the land of *Nsync into action."

"I don't know about any secret plan," Justin said with exaggerated confusion.

"That's because it's a secret. Plus I just made it up."

"So what is it?"

Lance dropped down off the table, landing with a thump. "We steal the leprechaun."

Justin followed him down as Lance jumped at Chris. "I love it."

Chris made a valiant attempt at evasion, but the room was small and he managed to trip over JC. Once he slowed down, Lance and Justin could just pick him up bodily and carry him out of the room, captured but still loud.

JC looked at Joey, who was still reading the paper calmly, and rubbed the new bruise on his knee. "Aren't you going to do something to rescue your leprechaun?"

Joey shook his head without looking up from the paper. "It'd only encourage them."

"Yeah, but if you don't play along a bit it'll be worse next time. Except that Chris will kill you now, so there won't be one."

"Ah, but there's a catch." Joey turned the page placidly. "To kill me he has to escape. I love my leprechaun, but he couldn't fight off Juppy, let alone both of them. They'll get bored and let him go eventually, and by that time they will have traumatized him enough that he'll support me in not encouraging them."

There were some flaws in that reasoning that JC could see - most notably the probable overestimation of Justin's attention span and underestimation of the irrational strength of leprechaunic rage - but he didn't think that pointing them out would have much effect, so he just shrugged. "Okay. I might have trouble making 'but good guys don't always get along / and so it came to pass / when Crumpet and Jup stole the leprechaun / SuperJoe just sat on his ass' into a stirring ballad, though."

Joey grinned. "I have great faith in your talent, Jayce."

"Good to hear." JC picked up another section of the paper and began to read, enjoying the relative peace and quiet. There were at least two doors between himself and Chris' outrage.

The woman with the pins and tape-measure didn't seem so impressed with it when she returned, though. "Why are there only two of you?"

Joey looked up innocently. "Because the Arch-Villain Crumpet and his trophy-mistress stole my leprechaun."

The woman stared at him.

JC tried not to giggle at the look on her face. "I'm telling him that you called him Crumpet."

"You did it first."

"Go rescue the leprechaun, SuperJoe."

* * *

Joey jumped as his phone rang and scrabbled to find it as quickly as possible. "Yeah?"

"I'm bored," Justin explained. "But JC promised to kill me if I bug him any more and Chris has stolen the controllers for the Playstation because I kicked his ass."

"So?"

"So I wanna play with Lance and his phone is turned off."

Joey grinned. "Lance is asleep. Play with yourself."

"Lance isn't asleep," Lance called grumpily.

"Well he should be!" Joey called back. "That's why I turned his phone off."

"You what?" There were pathetic scrabbling sounds, then another expression of outrage. "Hey, where is it?"

"Hidden." He turned his attention back to the phone. "So you see, Justin, you'll just have to suck up to Chris or something."

Justin sighed. "Can't you just put him on for a minute so I can tell him to go to sleep, then? Telling Lance what to do is fun and you're hogging it all for yourself."

"Um, no..." Joey winced as Lance suddenly exploded into action. "Actually, Jup, you want to pull over and swap with me?"

"Why?" Justin wasn't stupid.

"Lance just puked."

"I told him not to eat anything with eggs in it from a place like that. Seriously, Joe, don't go to any trouble because of me. You stay there with Lance and I'll play by myself." He paused. "Lance okay?"

Joey looked into the bathroom. "Still puking, but he's swearing so he's still alive."

"Fuck off," Lance muttered into the toilet.

"Anyway, he doesn't look that bad and it didn't take long to hit him, so I figure he'll start getting better once he's thrown it all up."

"I FEEL that bad," Lance managed before he made another series of disgusting noises.

"Okay. Just tell him I said hey and I hope he gets better."

Justin hung up and Joey crouched down next to Lance. "Justin says hey and get better soon."

"Fuck Justin." Lance became incredibly surly when he was vomiting.

"You can't right now, that's why I said he'd have to play with himself."

Lance almost laughed.

As he helped Lance get cleaned up and back into his bunk, Joey wondered why neither Justin or Lance understood that he'd been perfectly serious.

When Lance woke up he was disoriented and crabby and the sheets were damp from his sweat, but he didn't feel nauseous anymore. Sliding clumsily out of the claustrophobic and clammy bunk he stumbled back out, wondering what time it was and where they were. He needed to know shit like that, didn't he? "What time is it?" he asked the air with the confidence of someone who has to put in effort to be alone.

"Late," Justin replied, looking up from the TV that was turned down so low that you practically couldn't hear it. "Sit down before you fall down, dumbass."

Lance sat down on the couch and obediently drank half of the bottle of water that was pushed into his hands, then slid sideways and rested his face against the cool skin of Justin's shoulder. "What're you doing here?"

"Lance-sitting." Justin ruffled his hair teasingly and Lance made a valiant attempt to bitchslap him in return, but failed due to lack of will to move.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, probably." Yawning, Justin slid his arm companionably around Lance's shoulders.

Lance wriggled until his head was resting comfortably against Justin's chest and felt bitchy. "Yeah, but now my sleep cycle's all screwed up. Fucking Joey."

"Yeah. Fucking Joey, helping you up and practically carrying you to your bunk so you don't pass out on the bathroom floor. Rude bastard."

Weeks of supervillain imitations had honed Lance's growl, and also made Justin find it rather funny. "Stop laughing. I'm sick, humour me."

"You just said you were fine."

"Shut up, I'm sleeping." Lance resolutely closed his eyes and listened to Justin's heartbeat.

"You are not. When you're sleeping you get this funny look on your face, and it isn't there."

Lance frowned suspiciously. "What kind of a funny look?"

"Relaxed and kind of... amused or something. Like you think that you being asleep when other people aren't is funny. You get a serious look sometimes too. Joey calls it the 'fuck off, I'm busy' look, because you look kind of the same when you're trying to figure something out." Justin drank some of Lance's water. "Or there's the look that makes Chris watch for like five minutes to make sure that you're breathing, but that one's boring."

"You guys know way too much about how I sleep. Some day I'll get married or something and it'll end horribly because she'll shout about having to compete with the *Nsync monster and ask what it has that she doesn't, and then I'll have to say that you all know how I hang one leg over the side of the bunk if I get hot while I'm sleeping. And then I'll get divorced and it'll all be your fault." Lance rubbed his nose against Justin's shirt, too lazy to bother lifting a hand to scratch.

Justin thought. "Will people shout 'homewrecker!' at me in the street? Because if they won't, I'm not letting you get married."

"What?" Lance laughed.

"Dude, if we break up your marriage the least you can do is give us credit." Justin smiled at the ceiling. "First it'll be the speculation that there was some other person involved, then one of your ex-wife's friends or relatives will say that it was your devotion to the united Sync of N that came between you, Joey will jump to your defense and say that she just can't deal with the fame thing so she got jealous of the band, then that janitor from three stops back will sell his tell-all expose about how you called me mistress and kissed me in a hallway and it'll all be over. Justin Timberlake, homewrecker of homewreckers, denies rumours that *Nsync practice group sex on tours. Britney is intrigued, but the ex Mrs. Bass could not be reached for comment."

"I never kissed you," Lance protested, trying not to laugh.

"But it's your word against the janitor's, and we all know you're full of shit. Massive publicity, my face everywhere, the Backstreet Boys would have to leak news of a secret affair between Nick Carter and Prince William to even rate a mention." Justin paused to take a breath. "But we wouldn't want the publicity to be too bad, so don't like marry anyone famous or anything. Celebrity break-ups everyone likes to take a side."

"And you say I'm full of shit."

"It's funny 'cause it's true." Justin patted absently at Lance's hair, which refused to un-ruffle. Oops. Well, he just wouldn't tell Lance that. "Feel more cheery now?"

Lance turned his face against Justin to hide the smile. "No."

"See? Liar."

"I'm not cheered up, I'm temporarily amused. There's a difference." Lance's voice was muffled but resolute.

"Okay, fine. I'm gonna have to bring out the big guns." Justin prodded Lance hard. "Stop wiping snot on me, I made you a get well present while Chris and JC were being boring."

"What is it?" Lance emerged cautiously. He didn't trust a chirpy Justin.

"It's a present," Justin explained slowly. "Here."

Lance took the piece of paper that Justin handed him automatically. It looked like part of a newspaper, slightly squashed. "Oh Juppy, you spoil me.." he said sarcastically as he unfolded it.

"Yeah, I do."

Lance looked down and blinked. It was a bad black and white print of the five of them, the page number of the newspaper still half present. And it was not only a bad quality picture, it was a downright bad picture. JC was the only one who looked vaguely sane and Lance suspected, from when he seemed to remember being in a place like the one in the picture, that that was only because JC had briefly mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open. But that had been before Justin went to town.

The picture had been modified with little artistic skill but a great deal of enthusiasm. Joey had a red cape and a large S on his shirt and was sitting next to Chris, whose clothes had been coloured in green to match his new hat. That probably explained the pained expression. JC had had papers with what could theoretically be music on them added in under his hand and a very nice blue cloak. A very nice one that in no way matched up to Lance's black cape'o'doom, which was swirling out half behind Justin. Justin, who was grinning very broadly in the center of a glittering gold star drawn around his head. 'Superstah!' had carefully been written just above the star, also in gold glitter.

Lance laughed. "You know, one day this joke's gonna get old. I swear it is." He looked down and grinned. "Just not right yet."

"No it won't. Because in the blaze of publicity caused by your divorce, we'll get to make the cartoon," Justin declared confidently.

Folding his piece of newspaper up carefully, Lance leaned his head back until he could see Justin's face. "Just?"

"Mm?"

"If my marriage breaks up because y'all know me too damn well and then people say it's because you're so amazingly sexy that I just couldn't resist?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not adding to your reputation for nothing. So if that does happen, you're actually sleeping with me." Lance smiled his best 'I'm the one with the numbers and the power, so we do things my way' smile.

Justin nibbled his lip in thought then looked down. "Okay. But only if I get mentioned by name."

"Man, you broke up my marriage. Sex is the least you can do." Lance yawned and shut his eyes.

"Never knew you swung that way," Justin teased lightly.

Eyes still shut, Lance raised one hand and pointed imperiously at nothing. "For the worthy cause of making Justin Timberlake's ass finally cash the cheques his hips keep writing, I will swing any damn way it takes." His hand dropped and he snuggled down, tired but not wanting to sleep again. "I owe it to all those teenage girls out there." It was very hard to keep a straight face when the chest under his cheek was shaking with helpless laughter.

* * *

Chris did one last check to make sure he hadn't simply been suffering temporary delusional insanity. Yes, Justin had covered up most of Lance's body with his own. Yes, the two of them had their faces close enough that they were swapping breath. Yes, Lance did in fact have his hand tucked under Justin's shirt, resting in the small of his back in a very familiar fashion. Justin did have his leg slid up between Lance's and if Lance had objected to this at all then he wouldn't have been talking in such a soft, purring way. And he was referring to Justin as his trophy-mistress again, which Justin had long ago stopped genuinely complaining about. Justin had always been a little snugglesome, true, and nobody had much in the way of personal space issues anymore, but this was beyond a little manly hugging.

The Lance-Justin phenomenon was nothing to do with his imagination, overactive as that currently was. "Are you two ever going to stop fucking around and just start fucking or what? Curious and bored over here."

Lance twisted his head to look over, frowning. "What?" he asked with utterly convincing confusion.

For a moment Justin looked blank, then made a face. "Jeez, Chris, you have a fucking dirty mind, you know that?"

Wrinkling his nose, Lance gave Chris a reproving look. "I agree. Get a grip, Chris."

If they kept rolling around on the floor that way, Chris decided, he was going to have to. Either on a bucket of cold water to throw over them or, if Joey ever came out of the bathroom, himself.

Justin looked back at Lance. "We had to get the leprechaun with the sick mind," he said, dropping his head so that they were nose to nose, foreheads touching.

"Someone should warn Joey," Lance agreed with a smile.

They were like half an inch from kissing and they hadn't noticed? Chris dropped his head into his hands and stayed that way until JC tapped him on the shoulder and slid a piece of paper under his arm. Raising his head and noting that Justin and Lance were still obliviously entangled, Chris looked down. And choked back a laugh. The sketch was rough and quick and in ballpoint pen, showing two little figures with their arms around each other and over-large heads staring soulfully up at him from equally disproportionate eyes. They were labeled 'Lance' and 'Justin', and underneath JC had neatly printed 'For just $1 a week you can buy these poor children a clue'.

"JC," Chris said quietly, "I love you. This is the cover of our next CD right here."

JC grinned at him quickly before turning away again.

Lance and Justin were too busy staring at each other to notice.

* * *

"JC?"

"What?" JC turned around, glad of something to do other than watch Lance and Justin argue about which was the superior potato chip in the middle of a gas station. They had apparently decided to settle it through another tickle war, which meant that there was a lot of giggling going on.

Chris and Joey both solemnly handed him a dollar.

"Put it to good use, man," Joey said with heartfelt emotion. "Because those two are driving me fucking crazy."

* * *

Hoping the hotel had thick walls, JC rubbed his face with both hands and looked at the determined incomprehension in front of him. "Let me explain again. There's normal guy touchy-feely, you know? Like Joey does, and Justin and Chris do. And then there's you two. That isn't normal." He explained it again. He used four-letter words and made explicit suggestions.

Then death-threats. He may, at one point, have shaken Lance by the shoulders and shouted "deal with being gay, already". Which was really kinder than what he did to Justin in the privacy of Justin's room after he'd finished with Lance, because he'd known Justin since Justin was literally a little kid and therefore they could be really honest with each other.

In the end, JC pulled out a teenie magazine with a picture of Lance shirtless in it. He showed Justin the picture, pointing out that Lance was a very attractive specimen of gay man in denial. Then when Justin refused to agree with this statement firmly enough, JC rolled up the magazine and hit him with it.

* * *

"It's open." Joey looked up at the knock on his door.

"Joe?" Lance leaned around the door and looked uncomfortable. "Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes. Which is the answer to your question, too."

"You don't-"

"Oh yes I do. And yes. So, so yes. So yes that I can't fucking believe you're asking me this question, how you two haven't fallen into bed yet is completely beyond me. I'd swear that you had if Chris hadn't been whining about it for the last four days."

"Thanks for the sensitivity and support, Joey."

Utterly unmoved by arch-villain faces, Joey shook his head. "Man, this isn't a surprise to me. You told me you were probably gay. Even if you did forget that once you sobered up, I made damn sure you knew I knew."

"I still don't remember saying that. But I don't remember being THAT gay, either, and that would stick in the mind. I mean, Justin Timberlake? That's whole new levels of amazingly gay. I really don't think that I'm that gay. You're just all fucked."

Joey watched the door slam then turned back to his magazine with a smile. "Kid, you've always been that gay."

Lance sat in the middle of his nice, impersonal hotel bed and thought. He didn't want to, but it's pretty much impossible to make yourself stop once you start. What JC had said did kind of make sense. Which was the problem with JC, if you listened long enough you suddenly started thinking about all sorts of things which suddenly seemed scarily true. But theoretically assuming that JC had been right and there was something going on that Lance had somehow not noticed... well, then he was sitting in the middle of some complications, wasn't he? With his friends and his work.

Lance wondered if he could just pretend that he still hadn't noticed for a while, but eventually gave it up. Once you've noticed something you can't un-notice. Which meant he knew where his obligations lay. "Screw JC anyway," Lance muttered, reaching for his phone and dialing. "Hi Britney, it's Lance. Mind if I fuck your boyfriend?"

Britney's voice was slurred by sleep. "Lance, it's three in the morning here. Couldn't your little sexual revolution wait until later?"

"No."

"Been a while, huh?" The giggle rather damaged the impression of sympathy.

"That's... not the point."

"Okay, okay." Britney yawned and there was a rustling sound. "Let's go through this quick, because I need my sleep. Number one question is, have you mentioned this to Justin yet? And if you have, what did he say?"

"I didn't. JC did. He, um..." Lance sighed. He'd known that Justin and Britney were fairly casual about their relationship, which was hardly surprising given the kind of life they both had, but this was shaping up to be one of the most surreal conversations of his life. "Justin and I have been hanging out a bit more recently. And you know that he has no concept of personal space..."

"Like any of you do when it comes to each other."

"Okay, none of us do. Anyway, after a while some of the other guys started making comments. Well, Chris did, but nobody listens to Chris about stuff like that."

"And?"

Britney sounded like she might be dozing off again, so Lance spoke louder. "And anyway, it turned out it wasn't just Chris because JC cornered us and said that it was an intervention and that if we didn't sort out our 'weird-ass sexual obsession' then they'd lock us in a room together until we did." Lance twisted his fingers in the blankets. "I'd honestly never thought about him like that, you know? It was all just jokes and hugging. But now I think about it again..."

Britney sighed. "What did Justin say?"

"He didn't, he just gave me and JC a really startled look, then went all confused and hid in his room."

"Maybe he's sleeping," Britney muttered. "But that does sound like Justin with something on his mind."

"See? And then I thought about it some more, about things other than me..." Other than him and his utter sexual frustration which had just been so firmly pointed out to him, thank you SO much, JC and Britney.

"And my name came up. Of course." Another cute little Britney yawn and a comforting tone of voice. "Look, Lance, you know I love Justin. He's a great guy in his own weird way, good friend, good kisser. We both also know that in ten years he'll probably be gayer than Elton John. Or maybe not, but either way one of us has backed a winner, right? Anyway, I'm getting off track. What I mean is just go for your life, play whatever buddy-fucking games you want, just don't make me another PR nightmare and I'll see you guys when you get to Louisiana. It'll all be cool, okay? Promise."

Definitely a new surreal conversation record. Second time that'd been broken in a day. "Brit?"

"Mmm?"

"You're weird."

"And you're queer. What's your point?"

"I don't know anymore. So I'm gonna go and let you sleep."

"Thanks. Give Justin a kiss for me." Britney laughed again and hung up on him.

Lance looked at the phone for a long minute, then climbed off the bed and went to knock on Justin's door. "Jup, open up."

"Coming, keep your pants on."

Well, that wasn't promising, Lance thought. Then mentally slapped himself. Brit was right, it had been a while.

The door opened, revealing a shirtless but not at all sleepy-looking Justin who wandered away from the door and back to the bed, as usual the 'come in' didn't need saying.

"There's something I need to tell you right upfront," Lance started. Honesty seemed like his only real option.

Justin looked at him a little warily, but nodded. "What?"

"Your girlfriend is seriously strange."

That obviously wasn't something that Justin expected to hear, he blinked rapidly and sat down. "I knew that. Why did you just figure it out?"

"I called her. You know, I needed to sort some stuff out..."

"You talked to Brit before you talked to me and you think she's the weird one?" Justin shook his head but waved Lance over. "Okay, get over here and tell me what she said."

Sitting down on Justin's bed and wondering why that didn't feel at all awkward, Lance tried to remember the important points. "She said that she loved you because you were a nice guy and a good friend. And a good kisser. Um. Then she said to do whatever the hell we like as long as it doesn't get out and turn into a PR disaster and she'll see us in Louisiana."

"That's all?"

"I said she was weird, she called me queer and said to give you a kiss for her. See? Strange."

Justin's lips twitched into a smile. "Sounds like Britney. Especially the kissing part."

"Hmm." Lance looked down. Justin had the same bedspread that he did, of course. It got confusing sometimes, you could forget whose room you were in.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well Brit ordered me a goodnight kiss and you agreed." Justin poked Lance's ribs with one finger and grinned. "Pay up, Bass."

"Fuck off," Lance said amicably.

"No, really." Justin shifted around on the bed so that they were facing each other. "She's right, there needs to be kissing. Because what if we do and there's nothing there? It could just be a totally awful kiss and we'll know that it's all in JC's head. And Chris'."

And Joey's. "Or it could be really good."

"In which case we just had a really good kiss. It's win-win."

Somewhere deep in his stomach, Lance didn't agree. Apparently he wanted it to be a good kiss. He wanted it to be a great kiss. Which meant there was only one thing to do. "Britney says hi," he said, and kissed Justin. Gently at first, because nothing made a kiss bad like too much too soon.

So for a few moments they stayed that way, lips just moving slowly across each other. Experimentally. A successful experiment in Lance's mind - it felt very good to be kissing a guy again. He leaned into the kiss a little more, licking teasingly at the corner of Justin's mouth. This really could add a fun new dimension to the playing... Then suddenly Justin's mouth was open and he'd already taken advantage of that, there were hands in his hair and bare skin under his palms, but that was still good. That happened with good kisses. And it was one hell of a good kiss, he reflected dazedly, moaning very slightly against Justin's mouth and trying to burrow closer. Turned out that the boy could do more with that mouth than sing.

Lance had no idea how long the kiss would have gone on if Justin hadn't eventually forgotten to breathe and run out of oxygen.

"Um," Justin said, looking up and trying to catch his breath. "This is going to sound funny, but I have no idea how I ended up on my back here."

Lance frowned and thought back. Warm, smooth chest under his hands... "I think I pushed you."

"I think I took you with me." Justin coughed and loosened his grip. "Well."

"Yeah."

"That's definitely one of the better goodnight kisses that Brit's given me." Justin grinned. "She's telling you to do that more often."

"Okay," Lance agreed, calmly explaining to his body that it was okay to move away from Justin a little bit. His shoulders and legs had kind of got the idea, but the rest of him was fighting it. "But I think I'm going to have enough trouble sleeping as it is, so..."

"I know. That was kind of enough surprises for one night." Justin sounded reluctant anyway. "Raincheck?"

"Probably a good idea."

"Plus if we say that we still don't admit to anything they might put us on the two-man bus tomorrow."

Lance liked that idea way too much. "Well, we haven't actually resolved anything. We just agreed that Britney's weird and that JC might have a point."

"See?" Justin nodded. Silence stretched on for a minute or two. "Lance?"

"Yes?"

"If either of us are going to get any sleep you're going to have to get off me."

"I'm working on it." With a great effort of will Lance managed to crawl off the bed, standing up on legs that were still slightly shaky. "Right. We'll figure something out in the morning, then."

"Yeah." Justin sat up again. "Because that was really nice, but a bit... blurry."

"I know what you mean." Lance didn't try to hide the smile. More experiments would be required. "G'night, Justin."

"Night, crumpet."

"Don't call me breakfast foods," Lance called softly over his shoulder as he shut the door.

The image of irresolution the next morning was easy to maintain. Lance could glare at JC perfectly well, and he had trouble meeting Justin's eyes, but otherwise they acted much the same. JC was getting increasingly pissed.

Chris looked down at his breakfast, sighed deeply and looked over at JC. "I want my dollar back."

"Me too," Joey agreed.

"Get lost." JC glared. "That was the hardest two dollars I ever earned in my life, so-"

Whatever JC was going to say was lost when Justin's patience broke. He stood, all but picked Lance up out of his chair and said "No, really, I can do better." Then he kissed Lance very firmly. Which meant that Lance bumped into the table, knocked the milk over onto Chris and Joey had to dive to save the Fruit Loops.

It was a very, very good kiss though.

The worst part was that they had to stop eventually because hey, look, other people who are complaining that you just tipped milk on them or that they were eating but they're not hungry now. Lance took a deep breath. "See, this is why I get the trophy-mistress. It's all about playing hard to get."

Joey laughed. "Funny how that's not very convincing from someone who's up against a table with his hand in a puddle of milk."

Nodding, JC tried hard to look serious instead of smug. "It's very Freudian."

"Hey." Lance frowned at them sternly. "I'm still the arch-villain here, okay? I meant to put my hand down in the puddle of milk. It's all part of the evil plan."

"Oh?" Justin was smiling smugly, hand still resting on Lance's waist. "What part, exactly?"

Too smug. Lance lifted his hand off the table and planted it in the exact center of Justin's clean shirt, white droplets soaking joyfully into the cloth. "That part." When Justin looked down he ducked sideways and ran, hoping the chair he tipped over behind him would slow Justin down at least long enough for him to get out of range of the milk.

* * *

Justin banged on the door with one fist, not caring how much noise he made. Being famous and having a large piece of hotel all to yourself could be very cool. "Yo, Lance! You ready to go or what?"

"Yeah, coming!"

Justin stepped back from the door. "About time, what were you..." He continued speaking for about a second after the door opened then trailed off and swallowed. "Um. You're not wearing that."

Lance looked down and bristled. "Why not?"

"Because you can't. Back in." Justin pushed Lance back into his room and followed, shutting the door behind them.

"Justin, what the fuck are you-"

Silencing Lance mid-bitch with a very firm kiss, Justin sighed and let his hands slide down to Lance's hips. "Shit. Because those pants, no. Definitely no."

"I love these pants." Lance looked at him suspiciously. "That's why I've been wearing them for almost two years now."

"Yeah, but that was then. Now I have objections to you wearing those pants and me not being able to grope you." Justin rubbed his palms across the softness. "Because they're made of black leather and with that shirt they look particularly villainy and I think my brain just switched off."

"Villainous."

"Whatever." He looked down at Lance again, at the softly shimmering dark grey shirt and the black leather below it. It really was weird how he'd managed to not notice Lance for literally years. In an intellectual way, he'd known that Lance was good-looking. But somehow the leather pants just hadn't had quite this effect before. Which was a good thing, because an incredibly turned on Justin was not a good thing to have at a photo shoot. "Hey, better idea. We ditch the others and stay here and you can keep the pants on for a little while."

"Let's not and tell them we did." Lance laughed and stepped back. "If I don't go somewhere other than hotels and venues that all look the same and the fucking bus, I may go crazy. But I have a great compromise."

"Right." Justin followed, hands drawn irresistibly back to the leather. Because, well, leather.

"Yeah. We go out, we have fun, we come back and I'm still wearing leather pants."

"Seriously, I'm not going out with you if you wear those pants. It'd just be cruel." Justin looked soulful.

"Then you can stay here by yourself and jerk off," Lance said with a sweet smile.

Justin glared. "You really are evil, aren't you."

"Absolutely." Lance grinned and pushed Justin back until they hit the door.

Justin stepped back with him as if it was the most natural dance in the world and dragged Lance in tighter. He had time for one deep breath before their mouths met halfway. Hot mouth and Lance's leather-covered ass under his hands and Justin decided that if Lance really wanted to leave he was going to have to peel Justin off the door first. Over his dead or sexually sated body, definitely.

Sadly, the plan was foiled when something banged against the door about an inch from his ear, making him jump away from it. Then before he could dive for the lock, Lance had opened it.

Chris leaned against the wall, smirking. "You two coming out?"

"I am. Justin isn't." Lance slipped around the door, looking as innocent as one can with a rosy flush and obviously just-kissed lips.

"I'm coming. Because you're NOT wearing those pants."

"Yes, I am." Lance smiled brightly at Chris. "You agree with me, right? The pants are great."

Chris flickered a glance at Justin's frustrated pout and grinned just as evilly as Lance had. "Oh, I like 'em." He went so far as to smack Lance on the ass to get him moving. "Come on, kiddies. There's partying to be done."

"Bastard," Justin told Lance very calmly in the elevator.

Chris laughed and shook his head. "The word is 'cocktease', Justin."

"No, Justin's right. That was just me being an asshole. You haven't seen cocktease yet."

"But we will?"

"Probably from more than just me," Lance replied, looking at Justin thoughtfully. Justin was relaxed and cool and obviously plotting devious, disloyal trophy-mistress plots.

Chris rubbed his hands together and chuckled a very good impression of Montgomery Burns. "Eeexellent."

Chris leaned back against the soft padding of the booth and draped his arms happily around JC and Joey. "Boys, we are in for one hell of a show tonight."

"Justin's making a good start." JC looked out at the dance floor.

"No, that's just normal Just, I mean something new. Him and Lance, dude. Tensions running high, they were swearing at each other in the elevator."

"Oh, fuck." Joey sighed. "Chris, tell me that you're joking and they did."

"You know they didn't. But I have high hopes for tonight."

"Does it have something to do with the leather pants?" JC asked, looking thoughtfully over to the bar and Lance.

Chris paused. He and Joey both turned to stare at the side of JC's head. "Jayce? Something you want to share with us?"

"What? I'm just looking. Anyway, I happen to know that Justin has a tiny little leather thing." JC blinked, then grinned. "Hey, I'm so right. Aren't I?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Chris sulked. "Steal my punchline..."

"That's all? Lance is wearing leather?" Joey shrugged. "He does that all the time."

"Yeah, but now Justin wants to fuck him and he can't because we're in the middle of a nice, crowded club. He tried really hard to get Lance to change his pants, by the look of them that included trying to kiss Lance into submission."

"Didn't work," JC said cheerily, looking at Lance again. "So Justin is pouting because Lance is being a bitch?"

"Bastard was Justin's word. I tried to suggest cocktease, but Lance said 'not yet'." Chris smirked. "Heh. This is gonna be funny."

Joey looked at Lance, then Justin. In the land of the alcohol and the pounding beat, where the air was dark and smoky and sex shimmered under the surface of everything. "I have this feeling..."

"Anticipation? Amusement?" Chris suggested.

"Foreboding."

Chris sighed and shook his head. "Wimp."

Justin smiled at the woman he'd been dancing with but shook his head as the song changed. Time to go harass Lance. He turned back towards the booth and winced, breath catching painfully in his chest. Normally, Lance was a nice-looking guy. But from some angles, with some expressions, he was absolutely spectacular. The intense look on his face as he talked about something serious with JC, head tilted slightly towards the dance floor and hands waving illustrations in the air - well, it was a very good combination. A pounce-on-him-and-tickle-him-until-he-cries-then-kiss-him-senseless sort of combination.

Fucker, Justin thought as he walked up and nudged Lance with one hip until he moved over. "Are you guys planning to just sit here and get wasted or what?"

"Or what. We're just warming up." JC smiled with perfect innocence. "In a hurry, Justin?"

"Hell no. Just afraid that my stunning performance had scared y'all off."

Lance laughed and pushed a beer towards him. "Have a drink and shut up, Justin."

Teasing but friendly, just suddenly sexy as well. Ah well, Justin could deal with that. Especially if involved alcohol, because DrunkLance was always funny.

Justin drank the beer quickly, then stole the rest of Chris'.

"Fucking infant," Chris growled lazily.

"Hey, I have to catch up to the rest of you." Justin shrugged amicably, leaning back and contemplating the club. It wasn't too bad, really. If they'd been recognized then nobody had made it obvious, the atmosphere was relaxed and un-sleazy. And best of all, they hadn't asked Justin for ID. Justin gloated on that for a moment, then slid the hand not occupied with beer over to Lance's thigh. The other important thing to gloat on was that this club had Lance in leather pants on it, Lance who was trapped between Justin and JC. And talking crap in front of Chris was one thing, he didn't think that Lance was about to say 'Justin, get your hand out of my lap, you're making me really fucking horny' in the middle of a public place. For a start, that would be admitting that it was working.

So Justin smiled and listened to Chris and Joey tell each other blatantly untrue stories and slid his fingers slowly up the seam on the inside of Lance's right leg. Slowly, slowly, pausing to stroke back and forth for a while at the very top of his thigh.

Lance shivered slightly and took another drink, then closed his legs firmly.

Justin frowned. Now his fingers were trapped and couldn't do the teasing little stroking thing anymore. He could probably get them out, but that would defeat the purpose. He wiggled his fingers experimentally. Nope, Lance had very good leg muscles. But leather was nice and smooth and Justin had nice arm muscles, so maybe if he tried another tactic...

Wiggling his fingers again and pushing, Justin managed to get his hand down until his fingertips were touching the seat under Lance. Who paused to glare at him. Justin stayed looking innocently at Joey and twisted his fingers around and up. He loved leather pants, he really did, and the seams were like roads for fingers to follow. Except instead of leading to Rome, they all seemed to lead to Lance's crotch. How about that.

Lance twitched involuntarily. Justin felt a slight smirk spread briefly across his face as he took advantage of the momentary surrender to instinct and slid his hand up to tease with more than just fingertips.

JC looked over, then spun his head back around. "Jeez, Justin."

Justin blinked and frowned in perfectly innocent confusion. "What?"

JC shook his head. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Damn. Ah well, it'd been fun while it lasted. He brought his hand up harder, not caring about hiding it from the other people at the table anymore, and smiled as Lance gasped quietly. Then Justin looked at JC and down at Lance's lap. "Oh, you mean this?" Another slow, hard tease and Lance's eyes shut as he pressed one palm onto the tabletop.

"Yes." That was the JC-tone that Justin thought he should begin associating with rolled up paper and pain.

He pulled his hand back and shrugged. "You should've said something, dude."

Joey covered his eyes with his hands. "I thought it would get better once they got clued in..."

"Weren't you wrong," Justin said cheerily.

"What were you expecting?" Lance raised the famous eyebrow and drank another mouthful of beer. "For me to say 'wow, you guys are so right, I am secretly in love with Justin Timberlake' then just jump into his lap screaming 'fuck me now'? Or were we just supposed to thank you for pointing that out and go back to the time-tested method of male interaction and shove each other, with the occasional communicative grunt?"

"I don't know which would be worse."

Justin looked thoughtfully at Lance, then elbowed him in the side and grunted. Lance waited for a moment then bounced into Justin's lap, leaned in close and growled. "Fuck me now."

Justin raised his hands from reflex and settled them tightly on leather from deliberate intent as he looked past Lance at the rest of the table. "Which was better? 'cause I liked the second one much more."

"I didn't like either." Lance slid right across Justin and out of the booth, then grabbed Justin by the wrist. "Come on. Put your money where your mouth is and dance."

"Was that an order, Crumpet?"

Lance grinned darkly as Justin stood up. "You bet your ass it was."

Chris waited until they'd reached the dance floor and weren't looking before getting a little groove on in his seat. "I was so right, I was so right..." he sang quietly.

As always, Lance was much more relaxed dancing with a partner and an audience that didn't hit the thousands mark, but there was a new edge to it. Calculating. The game could only go so far in public, had to be laugh-it-off tease, but calculation was one of Lance's best things. Justin was beginning to suspect that maybe he'd been had, but he loved dancing. And Lance knew that he loved dancing, the confession was years old that the right kind of dancing, with the right kind of person, was one of the absolute quickest ways to turn Justin into a mindless monument to lust. "You're a cunning little bastard, aren't you?" Justin said conversationally as Lance came in close for a moment, a brief caress down Justin's side before the music moved them apart again.

"Always."

It was different, Justin reflected as the dance continued. More difficult, because Lance wasn't impressed by his Justin Timberlake-ness like the fans and couldn't be publicly groped like Britney. And he was Lance, so there were all sorts of thoughts hidden where Justin couldn't see. But also kind of easier, because it was Lance and he knew most of Lance's sensitive spots, and it was a game. Justin loved games.

The song changed to something that Justin didn't remember the title of, or who sang it, but it was something bright and happy and one of those songs whose lyrics are perfectly reasonable taken on their own but in the delivery become full of humour. People danced to those songs in ways that they wouldn't otherwise, laughed, played. Justin joined in the play by grabbing Lance by the waist and stepping right in, getting one thigh between Lance's and grinning as they went from friendly dancing to pseudo-sex. Lance threw his head back and laughed even as he leaned into the gentle grind, and a few of the people around them joined in. One or two clapped.

"Don't encourage him," Lance laughed, dropping easily into the role.

Justin was encouraged - or possibly possessed by Satan, it could be hard to tell - and bent his knees before wrapping his arms firmly around Lance and lifting. Lance wasn't light, but not too heavy to be swung around once. Twice. Three times.

"Put me down!" Struggling Lance was much harder to keep a grip on and Justin had to put him down, staggering sideways because Lance hadn't let go of his shoulders. "Is that any way to treat an evil overlord?" Lance let go and smoothed his shirt. "I have dignity to maintain, you know."

"Not anymore you don't," Justin laughed. Then squeaked in genuine fear as Lance half-dipped him and dropped a brief but firm kiss on his mouth. Which was nice, but over way too quickly. That made him annoyed. "You could have dropped me!"

"But I didn't."

"But you could have."

"But I didn't. Because I am a multi-talented individual." Lance grinned.

"I don't know. Does the Bass Ass count as a talent, or would it be a trait?"

Lance twisted sideways to look back over his shoulder, giving Justin an excellent profile of the Bass Ass. "No, I think it would be a natural gift. Now shut up and dance with me."

Another song and something was changed, the music got louder and the lights dropped even further. The only light on the dance floor was a little reflected from the bar and tables, coloured circles that swirled over the crowd and the strobe. In the darkness the leather pants faded out almost completely, a new surprise every time one of the coloured lights lit them up in new shades of scarlet, green, electric blue or violet. But it was the strobe that was the worst, in Justin's opinion. Lance was a surreal experience without adding film-flicker lighting while he danced. A smile there in one flash would be completely gone the next, blink too long and he'd miss seeing Lance's hand move, just be left feeling the light trail of fire across his stomach.

Lance was such a good villain because, Justin decided seriously, he really was evil. Justin was dancing with a, although probably not the, genuine Prince of Darkness. And he was really enjoying it. He reached out to Lance's shoulder and stepped closer to explain some of that, but when Lance looked at him questioningly he forgot to actually vocalize. Under a green light, Lance's eyes glowed. Justin didn't move his hand, but kept dancing, waiting for the green light to come back again.

Lance dropped a hand onto Justin's hip and they caught the same rhythm. Then the green light came back and Justin smiled. Glowing green eyes.

"Jup, you know I love you," JC suddenly whispered into Justin's ear, "but you two are getting way obvious. Or you will be in about twenty seconds when you get off and Lance does a little victory dance on a table."

They were practically groin to groin, Justin realised, and stepped back. "Shit. Yeah. Sorry, Jayce."

Lance just laughed softly and looked away.

"Remember he's evil," Justin muttered to himself and went in search of more alcohol, carefully trying not to look as Lance danced with JC. He loved games. He hated losing.

He had two empty shot glasses on the bar and had decided that the best thing to do was watch like he didn't care that Lance was groping JC when Joey and Chris came up, one on either side, and grinned at him.

"I can't believe it," Chris smirked. "Timbah-lake is jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm horny," Justin snapped. "Um. That's close. How come JC can do that and I can't?"

Joey grinned. "Jealous of JC, even."

"I'm not jealous of fucking JC."

"No, you're jealous of fucking Lance," Chris said with difficult, then fell across two barstools laughing.

"He's not fucking Lance!"

"See? Jealous!" Chris crowed.

"Horny!" Justin insisted, loudly enough that the bartender gave them a surprised look.

Joey used the eye contact to smile and ask for another round. "Really, Justin. This is like watching a bad soap opera. It makes my brain hurt, but I can't seem to stop watching."

"Shut up." Justin knocked the shot back.

"He's really got you bad, doesn't he?"

"He's jealous of JC, Joey. That's obvious."

"Okay, look. I know Lance is a bitch, so tell me something. The leather's really a thing for you?"

Justin sighed. "Yeah. Nothing weird, but being made out of leather makes normal stuff kind of... I don't know. It just does."

"Well that's hardly fair." Joey drank some of his beer with a calculating expression that Lance would have been proud of.

"Joe?" Chris leaned in to examine the expression. "What are you up to? I thought you said that you didn't want to take sides..."

"That was when you were trying to make me bet on who did what to who and I wouldn't do that because you can't trust what either of them say about sex."

"Party-pooper," Chris muttered. "JC bet me fifty dollars that Lance would get Justin doing whatever he wanted."

"He what?" Justin glared daggers at JC. Again. Then winced.

Joey blinked. "Okay, JC's trying to help Lance along, then."

"He did stop me," Justin admitted.

"That's because you were going too far for a public place. But now he's got Lance shaking his ass and you sitting here drinking, which isn't a good combination for you." Joey looked thoughtful again, then sighed and leaned in. "Right. Justin, I never told you this, okay?"

"Sure." Justin looked at him curiously.

"I mean it. Never. No matter what you get Lance to do, I never said this. But I like the playing field to be even." He leaned in close. Chris nearly climbed onto the bar to get close enough to eavesdrop. "Ice."

"What?"

"Ice. Lance has a cold kink, maybe wet too. A glass cold enough to have condensation on it will do something, but a piece of ice somewhere sensitive and he starts fucking purring."

"Do I want to know how you know?"

Joey shrugged. "Just two-man bus confessions. Plus I dropped ice down his shirt and got a reaction I wasn't really expecting."

"Right." Justin turned away from watching Lance and JC to order something he'd been known to drink that came with lots of ice in it. He had a plan. Which somehow made not looking easier.

Chris stayed watching the dancing and after a few minutes stood up. "It's a matter of principle, not money," he muttered and marched off to cut in.

Justin didn't know whether it was a result of Chris stealing JC away or him managing to keep his back turned, but within five or ten minutes Lance appeared next to him. He watched Lance stretch quietly, then watched the lights play on the slight sheen of sweat. He had to remind himself that licking it off wasn't part of the plan, but the thought was still nice. "Hot?" he asked casually.

Lance nodded. "Need a drink after that." He leaned across the bar so that the bartender could actually hear him.

Justin waited until the man had nodded and started to turn away, then took advantage of Lance's position. A piece of ice from his drink right on the back of Lance's neck, sliding it up to his hairline then back down. A simple enough thing to pass for a lucky coincidence, but still intimate.

The result was beyond Justin's expectations, Lance shuddered and his eyes closed as he pressed back against Justin's hand.

"Better?" It honestly didn't look as if it was cooling Lance down at all.

"Um, yeah." Lance didn't move or open his eyes. "That's good..."

Justin could feel the alcohol evaporating off his fingers, adding to the chill as he swirled the rapidly shrinking piece of ice back up Lance's neck and around the edge of his hair until it eventually disappeared altogether just under his jaw, leaving Justin's cold fingers resting against a thundering pulse. "Hmm," Justin said, genuinely speculative. Then he picked his glass up and pressed the wet, cold surface against the inside of Lance's wrist. They weren't touching, it looked more odd than sexual. Back and forth easily over Lance's skin, slick from the water and the smoothness of skin and glass.

Lance whimpered slightly and pulled his hand away. Just in time, his eyes were slightly glazed as he took his drink from the bartender. Giving Justin a mistrustful look, headed back to the booth which Joey had retreated to. Justin followed him and slid in beside him again, concentrating on the plan. Cold and wet. He looked out at the dance floor until Chris looked at him, then tried to look as get-over-here as he could. It was harder than come-hither, they weren't the same at all.

Chris and JC were back within a minute, Chris looking speculative and JC looking his own special brand of vague. Justin knew that that didn't necessarily translate to unobservant, but he didn't care. He'd put himself and Lance in a dark corner, and the others were between them and the crowd. Which was good, he decided as he crunched up the last cube of ice, because the cold was starting to give him a headache. He leaned his elbows on the table. "Guys? Lean in here, I want to show you something."

They obediently leaned in, even Lance, and Justin couldn't see the crowd anymore. He turned his head to one side and kissed Lance. Lance's mouth seemed amazingly hot as it opened under his own, which meant that Lance wasn't the only one getting turned on by temperature, but it was Lance who groaned and leaned in further.

Justin took his wet, cold hand and settled it on the side of Lance's neck. That felt amazingly hot too, and he lost track of the plan. There was a niggling thought that he was supposed to remember something, but he didn't know what it was. And didn't care. Lance's hand was sliding up the inside of his leg, and as long as that kept happening he wasn't paying any attention to anything else.

From a long way away came Chris' voice. "I think we might have to call that one a tie..."

Justin pushed up against Lance's hand and moaned into his mouth, ignoring the funny elf far away.

"Yeah," Joey agreed faintly. "Apparently they're both fifteen. Jesus. Did Justin just come or what?"

"I did not," Justin gulped.

Chris laughed. "Are you sure?"

"I think I'd know." Justin looked at Lance and suddenly they were joined at the lips again, which was good because he couldn't figure out why he'd stopped in the first place.

"Guys? Guys. Public place, remember?"

"They remember, JC, they just don't give a shit."

JC sighed. "I guess we'd better head back to the hotel then, before Justin actually manages to get Lance's shirt off."

"Anyone got a crowbar?"

Much to his annoyance, Justin's fingers were pried off Lance's clothes and he was pulled back. Lance was flushed and breathing hard, but hadn't actually been manhandled. Justin thought that was hardly fair and moved again. Chris grabbed the back of his shirt. "Whoa there, cowboy. Hotel nice, friendly, private. Get me?"

"Shut up." Justin took a deep breath. He could control himself, walk out looking like he hadn't just been kissed within an inch of his life. Walk carefully, for obvious reasons which he didn't want to be that obvious, and go back to the hotel. Which gave you ice in a bucket. Yeah, he could see the goodness of the hotel.

They walked out in a little bunch, but if the light hadn't been so bad that still wouldn't have been enough to make the situation less than blindingly evident. Joey sensibly put himself between Justin and Lance until they got back to the limousine. He probably would have stayed there if Lance hadn't gotten stubborn at the last minute and pushed Joey ahead of him. Not needing any more encouragement, Justin cut JC off and climbed in after Lance.

Lance was looking less aroused but a whole lot more evil. He waited until JC and Chris were inside and the door was shut, then he turned sideways and draped his legs across Joey, resting his head and shoulders against the door above Justin's hand and his elbows back on Justin's thigh. Which put Lance's hands semi-concealed in Justin's lap and Lance's wicked little face looking up suggestively.

Lance's hand moved and Justin closed his eyes, sinking helplessly back into the seat. He was losing and he didn't give a flying fuck. He wanted to lose. He wanted to lose immediately, even if the other guys were watching and he was costing Chris money and principle. That settled, his hips tried to lift themselves, which they couldn't do and nearly tipped Lance off onto the floor trying.

"Stop that," Lance hissed. Then obligingly pressed harder.

Justin moaned. "Fuck..."

"Lance, I really don't need to see live-action gay porn this close," Joey complained as Justin arched a little and whimpered.

"Ah, I have discovered SuperJoe's weakness!" Lance's voice was even lower than normal as he gloated, which wasn't making it any easier for Justin. "Not kryptonite at all, but Justin Timberlake achieving orgasm at close range. A simple weapon that arch-villain like me can produce with one hand..."

"Lance!" Joey and JC complained simultaneously.

Chris was more effective. "Don't make me stop this car and throw you out on the side of the road, Bass."

Lance blinked and folded his hands over his stomach. "Foiled again."

Justin groaned loudly. "Chris, I fucking hate you!"

"You ARE fifteen, aren't you? You can't wait two minutes?"

"I can, I just don't want to."

"Tough," Lance said calmly, the vibrations of his voice licking up Justin's legs to wrap hot around his spine. "I'm not walking."

Justin wondered if he'd ever walk again. He had to get out of the limo carefully when they arrived, and he couldn't help but wonder what the bodyguards were thinking behind the tired but implacably patient faces. He knew that he must look like limping porn, and the way he was towing Lance by one wrist was probably its own explanation.

The elevator took forever to arrive. When the doors finally opened he pushed Lance ahead of him and kept walking until Lance ran out of elevator and ended up pinned against the wall. Justin picked up where they'd left off in the club and kissed Lance firmly, hands sliding down to undo buttons. He could probably get Lance's shirt off before they reached their floor, and his room was close to the elevator...

Five floors up Lance pushed him off. "Show a little class to the security cameras, sweetpea," he drawled. Justin frowned at him. The annoyed, evil light was glowing in his eyes again. The light that said 'I have a plan which will cause you pain, great pain, and make you like it'. It was an exciting light, but not a very trustworthy one.

"Ooh, three working braincells!" JC clapped.

"Shut up, C."

"I can, I just don't want to," he said with a smile as the elevator dinged and opened again.

Lance took hold of the front of Justin's belt and led him out, calling back over his shoulder. "Goodnight, people."

Justin followed agreeably until the door shut behind them, then went past Lance to sit on the bed. "What's your problem?"

Stripping his shirt off as he walked over, Lance smiled. "I don't have a problem." Without warning he pushed Justin quite hard on both shoulders. Justin fell backwards with a small yip of surprise, but didn't mind because Lance was climbing up on top of him. A hard, hot kiss and a slow grind of leather against him and he relaxed, sliding his hands up Lance's bare back then back down to push at the top edge of the many-times-damned leather pants.

Lance broke the kiss, breathing his words against Justin's neck. "No problem, I'm just thinking about how to do this without encouraging you."

"What?" Justin hadn't lost, he was lost. He wouldn't have been surprised if there was a big question mark hovering over his head.

"It's not easy." Lance peeled Justin's hands off his skin and pinned them against the bed over Justin's head instead. "I could get you off all sorts of ways and you'd be all 'I am the mighty Divalake, people are falling over themselves to make me happy'. If I let you do those things to me, you think you're all that and a bag of chips because you can make me come until I can't see straight. Either way, it'll all be about your ego."

Hurt, Justin frowned. "I don't do that."

"You do so. And I'm not gonna be a part of it, okay?" Lance kissed him again, gentler and with more of the tease back again. "Suddenly in the elevator you came over all Justin fucking Timberlake on me, and I don't want to sleep with him. I don't even like him very much. The Justin who steals leprechauns with me and lets me call him a trophy-mistress, him I want to lick me all over until I scream."

Justin looked up at him and thought for a moment, then smiled. Because he didn't like the hyper-organized publicity-machine Lance much either. "Was that an order, General Crumpet sir?"

Lance grinned and did his best arch-villain growl. "Absolutely."

* * *

Justin blinked and opened his eyes as the door slammed, inconsiderate of his sleeping. Then squinted, because vicious sunlight was coming in his window. "Chris, what the fuck are you doing in here?"

Tightening his grip, Lance grumbled something angry and buried his face against Justin's back.

Chris looked up innocently. "Borrowing a shirt. You know it confuses the photographers when we wear each other's clothes." He looked at Lance and sighed, putting a hand over his heart. "Aaaw. Isn't he cute?"

"Would you fuck off?" Lance mumbled.

Chris ignored Lance and winked at Justin. "Sleep well?"

Justin stretched as languorously as he could without disturbing Lance, smirked at Chris and said happily "You owe JC fifty dollars."

"Bastard," Chris bitched before picking up the shirt and stomping out of the room.

Justin sighed and snuggled down, smiling to himself as Lance sleepily kissed the back of his shoulder.

He was almost asleep again when the door opened again. "Chris, what..." Justin's brain caught up with his eyes and realised that it was JC who was staring quite openly at the mess of a bed that Justin and Lance were curled up in. "JC? What the fuck do you want?"

JC looked around. "Um, borrowing pants?"

"Out! And Joey's not getting any of my socks!"

"Careful, Lance, he's nasty in the mornings." JC made good his escape.

Lance chuckled. "That's okay. I like 'em nasty."

EPILOGUE

Lance rested his head on Joey's stomach and sighed contentedly. "You know, I think I've got it figured out."

"Enlighten me." Joey waited for another jewel of wisdom, like why Lance's numbers weren't adding up right, why Justin could go from zero to mind-blowing pain in the ass in point three five of a second or what the hell Chris was up to. Lance liked to explain things.

"Between the four of you, I have the perfect boyfriend."

Joey laughed in surprise, making Lance's head shake. Lance prodded him in the side until he stopped. "How do you figure that? Because you know I love you, but not in any way approaching... I mean, ew. No offence."

"Don't be gross. But really, think about it. I have Justin for lust and someone to pick on, which is nice and really what Justin's best at. Chris is for laughs and stops me taking things too seriously, I know he'll smack me across the back of the head if I do something stupid. JC is for love, because that's his best thing. He's not practical and he lives on another planet, but there aren't many people on any planet who are ever going to love me that much."

Joey waited for a moment, then coughed. "And? Lust, laughs, love and?"

Lance looked up with a grin. "You feed me." He laughed at the expression on Joey's face and continued. "And are all Superman for me, because a villain without someone to fight is pretty useless, and you hug me a lot, which Justin kinda sucks at. Short attention span, and he kicks in his sleep. But I couldn't think of an L-word for all that." He shifted around and threw a casual arm across Joey who, satisfied, hugged him for a while. "And you listen to me say this sort of weird shit, which is pretty amazing." Lance yawned. "Hey, listen is an L-word. I like that."

"So *Nsync is the perfect boyfriend."

"Apparently so."

"We should figure out some way to work that into our next magazine interview."

"No we shouldn't." Lance snuggled down with a sigh. "I don't share that well with others. Brit can have Justin, but *Nsync is mine."

"Fine, be that way" Joey looked down at Lance, whose eyes were drifting closed. "But hey, wait. What L-word would you be?"

"Y'all're mine, because I'm the center of the universe. I don't have to have an L-word other than my name," Lance yawned.

"No, you have to. Chris has the laughs, JC's got the love, what are you bringing to the party?"

Lance smirked. "Leather pants."

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