Disclaimer: Again, not mine. Don't know. Didn't happen.
Lance woke up to the tantalizing aroma of food cooking in the house. He was laying on his stomach, hugging his pillow to his face, and there he stretched like a cat, arching his back and making a low groaning sound without ever opening his eyes. He yawned and then smiled as he inhaled again, almost positive that he was picking up the sweetest scent of waffles and pancakes, possibly bacon, and knowing JC, eggs. Lance didn't remember having much food in the house, which meant that JC must have gone shopping. But JC didn't have a car. That meant that JC...
"Jace!" Lance shouted, rolling out of the bed and running out of his bedroom, barging into the kitchen with wild eyes. JC was standing at the stove flipping a pancake, and when he caught sight of Lance, he set the pan back on the flame and arched an eyebrow.
"Mornin' to you too, babe," JC drawled dryly. He reached inside the refridgerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "OJ?"
"Joshua Scott Chasez, how did you get this stuff?" Lance demanded, still standing in the middle of the doorway to the kitchen.
JC shrugged impishly. "I sorta borrowed your--"
"Oh, Jace, you didn't!" Lance groaned, clenching his eyes shut tightly. "Tell me that you didn't wreck it. Tell me that you did not wreck my car."
"Look, just 'cause I accidentally ruined mine a couple of times--"
"JC, the thing won't even run!" Lance exploded, then slumped against the wall on his shoulder, leaning his head against it as he looked at his best friend. "JC, you've gone through three of your own cars and one of mine. The insurance company will hardly even give you a policy. Now tell me that you didn't wreck my car!"
JC grew indignant, picking up the pan and checking the pancake, then setting it on a plate with a stack that showed that JC had been there for quite some time. "Two of those weren't my fault," he pointed out, then smiled gently at Lance. "I didn't wreck your car," he promised. "She's still in beautiful shape. Didn't even go over a curb."
Lance sighed in relief and dropped into one of the chairs. "JC, you are a menace to society," he told his friend, shaking his head in relief. It was common rule of thumb that JC didn't drive.
Ever.
If JC wanted to go someplace, either the guys took him or he took a taxi. JC was not allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle. Not even to drive five miles to the store and back. And especially not in Lance's car. Lance loved his car. JC would not destroy Lance's car. It would not be happening. It did, once, and JC had bought him a new one--coincidentally the same one he now drove--but Lance had made JC promise to never drive it, and JC had agreed at the time. At the time, of course, being the operative phrase.
"I know," JC agreed cheerfully. "Don't you wish you were as cool as me?"
"Not any day," Lance agreed conversationally. JC glanced at him over his shoulder and Lance kept his face blank. JC stuck out his tongue at Lance, who laughed and went to the counter between JC and the refridgerator to pour himself a glass of orange juice. "Don't put anything out there that you don't want me to put in my mouth," Lance warned teasingly, looking up at JC through his eyelashes.
JC leaned forward and placed a kiss on Lance's nose. "Good morning, sunshine."
Lance smiled sheepishly and replaced the orange juice into the refridgerator before going to the other counter and hopping up on it, beside the stove. "Morning, Jace," he returned, smiling. "When would you like to go look for a new lawn set?"
"Two days from never," JC answered easily.
"So around 1?"
JC shrugged. "Works for me."
Lance smiled and sat up straight in his chair as he tried to peer into the pan. "How long have you been at this, hon?" he asked, taking in the stack of pancakes, waffles, cut up fruit, and he assumed there were eggs in the microwave, where JC always stuck them to keep them warm.
"I feel so domesticated," JC said instead, smiling brightly. "Should I go grab an apron, too?"
Lance snickered at the thought of JC in an apron and shook his head, holding up a hand. "Not necessary," he assured JC, smiling slightly. "Unless you really want to, and then be my guest."
JC made a face at him and laughed, then nodded in the direction of the refridgerator. "You gonna call him?"
Lance frowned and followed JC's line of sight to where JC had put up Ace's number with a magnet. Lance flushed bright red and scowled. "As a matter of fact, no," he answered firmly, coming to an immediate decision. He couldn't see the boy that had haunted his dreams the night before again. He just couldn't. "So you can take it down, now."
JC studied him casually, but Lance knew that calculating look in his best friends' eyes meant that Lance was under careful inspection, so Lance forced his face to remain neutral and impassive.
JC shrugged finally, taking the paper down from the refridgerator and going to the garbage. "So you won't care if I toss this out?"
Lance's heart beat picked up a few more beats per second, but he sternly told himself to stop acting childish and nodded. "Go for it. I don't care."
JC took either side of the paper and tore.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Lance exclaimed in horror, jumping down from the counter with wide eyes and staring at JC.
JC smiled impishly and displayed the paper he had torn in half. All he had done was tear off needless white space, but as Lance flushed with the realization, he discovered that JC had gotten his point across. Lance wanted that number. JC tossed the blank page into the garbage and slowly stood in front of Lance, extending the paper with Ace's number on it. "Call him, Lance. Take him to go have a cup of coffee. It doesn't have to be serious. But go. Call him. You'll thank me."
Lance looked down at the black ink with the boys' scrawl on it and sighed before walking past JC, going to the refridgerator, and tacking it back up. "Maybe later," he muttered, unable to meet JC's eyes as he hopped back up onto the counter. He couldn't believe how foolishly he had called out at JC, or that JC had managed to get him to admit how much he desired to meet with the boy again.
JC laughed and smacked him lightly on the knee. "Go sit at the table, Lance my man." He held up a plate stacked with pancakes for Lance's inspection. "Breakfast is served."
Lance told himself he was just going to open the refridgerator door and grab a Coke. So what if it was almost 10:30 and he needed to get some sleep? He could sleep after drinking Cokes. Really. He wasn't going in there to peek at the number on the door. And he certainly wasn't holding the portible to call him, either. He was waiting for Joey or Chris to call. Yeah. And he was holding the phone because he didn't want JC to be woken up. They had spent all day shopping for lawn furniture and JC was exhausted. He was just trying to be a considerate friend.
Lance reached his hand out for the handle and faltered, his eyes unwillingly straying straight for the paper with the boys' number. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears and thumped against his chest that he was certain his entire body was shaking from it. Actually, he was shaking anyway, but his heart seemed like it was trying to escape from his chest. And Lance knew that if he tried to speak, his voice would shake uncontrolably. Therefore, he could not call the boy. With that resolved, his fingers on the door tightened, he pulled it open and retrieved the Coke he had gone into the kitchen for, and when the door shut, he found himself again looking at the number.
Maybe he could just call it and talk to the boy for a minute or two. He could say that he had to go, he was just calling to say hi and that he'd gotten the number. No, that sounded unbelievably corny and stupid. "I'm just calling to say hi," Lance mocked disgustedly to himself. How lame could he get? He was Lance Bass, international superstar, and he couldn't even gather enough courage to call a child that he had met.
A child with a stunning smile, bright blue eyes, and a fabulous build, that is.
Lance groaned and snatched the paper from the refridgerator, dropping down onto the kitchen seat with it and his Coke. He set both on the table and put his head in his hands, angry at himself and the situation. Why he was torturing himself was beyond him, but it was utterly ridiculous. He should have just let JC tear the number up completely. He should forget about the boy. They had only spoken for a few minutes. It hadn't been anything except some teasing flirting. It wasn't serious! He wasn't that interested. He wasn't. He was fine. He was strong.
He was infatuated.
Lance sighed in exasperation and drummed his fingers nervously on the tabletop as he jiggled his foot under the table, his eyes trained on the numbers. To dial, or not to dial. He set the phone on the table and stared between it and the number, then, on a moment of impulsive weakness, he snatched up the phone.
It rang in his hand.
Lance cried out in surprise and quickly turned it on, his heart pounding furiously in his ears, his pulse racing and his chest tight. "Hello?" he gasped out.
"Lance? You alright, man?"
Lance relaxed. "Joey. Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me."
"I did? How?"
"I was holding the phone and it went off in my hand," Lance explained. And my courage with it, he thought to himself dryly, pushing the paper away to the end of the table and out from his direct line of vision.
"I hope you were going to call Chris or I," Joey returned shortly. "We haven't heard from you or JC since we got back."
Lance smiled slightly. "We've been busy," he apologized. "What've you and Chris been up to?"
"Me, Chris, and Justin, you mean," Joey corrected. "We spent all day watching cheesy movies and chillin' in Chris' pool suntanning. Don't know why; we're still as white as we were before we went out. But we had fun. Now where where you and JC? We tried calling to invite you guys but neither of you were there."
Lance nodded. "JC's spent the past couple of days with me, and like I said, we've been busy. We went out and got him some new lawn furniture."
"Please tell me that it's not some pukey pink color or something."
Lance laughed out loud and clamped a hand over his mouth as he remembered the other man trying to sleep in his house. "Not exactly," he laughed, his voice muffled through his hand as he tried to control his shaking shoulders. "More of a dark forest green."
"That works," Joey relented. "But I would personally prefer orange."
Lance sighed, rolling his eyes in amusement. "I know you would, Joe, that's why he asked me and not you."
Joey pouted. "I have good taste," he argued. "Chris likes what I pick."
"No I don't!" Chris shouted in the background, and Lance snickered.
"Shut up, Chris!" Joey hissed, sounding like he was covering the mouth piece. "I have good taste!"
"Ha! You should have seen the boys' new swim trunks that he and JC bought when they went out, Lance! He wore them today and Justin and I couldn't stop laughing until he changed! JC and Joey are never allowed to go out shopping together again!"
Lance stiffled his laughter for JC's sake, but his sides were going to burst soon. "You do have awful taste," Lance reminded Joey. "And so does JC."
"Lance!" Joey shrieked unhappily. Then, his sullen voice muttered, "Forget this, I'm giving you to Chris." There was a shifting and loud sound on the phone and Lance held the receiver away from his ear in pain.
"Lansten?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with laughter. "What exactly did you say to our little Joseph?"
Lance couldn't help but chuckle. "Is he pouting?"
"Oh, big time." Chris called out to Joey. "Want me to kiss your wounded ego and make it all better?"
"No!" Joey snapped back poutingly.
Lance snickered and shook his head, listening to Chris' laughter on their side until Chris returned his attention to Lance. "So what've you and JC been up to?" Chris asked. "We missed you guys today."
Lance laughed. "Like you're not going to see us tomorrow?"
There was a pause, in which time Lance frowned, trying to figure out if he'd somehow managed to offend Chris. He hadn't intended the question to be offensive, and just as he was about to apologize, Chris spoke. "We just missed you guys, is all."
Lance instantly felt bad. Chris' voice was soft and masking hurt, and knowing that he was the cause of his friends' pain sent him through an immediate guilt trip. "I'm sorry, Chris. I don't mean to hurt your feelings. Actually, JC and I spent all day talking about you guys. We bought you gifts, too, if it helps at all."
"Oh, it helps," Chris agreed, perking up instantaneously. Lance smiled in relief and amusement. "What'd you get us?"
"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Lance taunted.
"But I wanna know!" Chris whined.
Lance laughed. "Sorry. You'll find out tomorrow." He could just picture their faces when he and JC handed them all matching fumanskeeto.com shirts. JC and he had found them in the store when they were wandering around after looking at one too many lawn chairs, and they had snatched up seven immediately. Five for the guys, one for Johnny, and one for the choreographer. Now they waited in sacks in Lance's bedroom.
Chris grumbled good naturedly. "Well I guess it helps make up for the fact that you totally ditched us."
Lance protested. "We didn't! We just didn't hang all over you guys."
"You guys didn't even call once, not all day, and not last night, either. What happened to bein' bros?"
Lance drew his eyebrows together in puzzlement. "The two have nothing to do with one another, Chris. Just because we didn't call or hang out for a full day doesn't mean that we're not still bros! JC and I just went shopping, and it never occured to us to call."
"Mighty selfish if you ask me," Chris sang, then laughed. "I'm just razzin' ya, Spikey. But listen, Joe's pulling on my hair so I gotta go. We'll see you and JC at the studio tomorrow at 10, right?"
Lance groaned. "Thanks, Chris, now I'm going to have nightmares."
Chris laughed. "Serves you right! You won't go a day without calling again, will you?"
Lance sighed in exasperation, then laughed. "Never again, Chris. See you tomorrow."
"Bye Lance!"
"Bye." Lance hung up the phone and smiled at it, remenants of his conversation with Chris still hanging in his mind. Chris was such a cool, fun guy. He loved Chris, even when he was making fun of Lance. Lance was used to it, though, and Chris only did it in jest. Chris had admitted more than once that Lance was his favorite member of Nsync. Joey was his best friend, and he had the most in common with Justin, but Lance was his favorite member. And JC was Chris' favorite singer. Chris was just a fun guy.
Lance sighed and found his smile dying as his eyes drifted towards the piece of paper he'd thrust out of his view. He glanced at the writing on it and then slowly, as if driven by an unseen force, his fingers reached out and touched the paper, drawing it back in front of him and studying it closely. He could call... He glanced up at the clock quickly and discovered it to be almost 11. Then again, he could call another day. Or he could not call at all. It was probably an omen anyway. He wouldn't be calling the boy.
With another sigh, Lance stood and returned the paper to the refridgerator, leaving the Coke out on the table and padding his way down the hallway to his bedroom before climbing into bed beside JC, trying to be careful to not disturb his sleeping best friend.
"Lance?" JC mumbled, and Lance cringed guiltily at having woken him up. JC rolled over to face him and gazed at him through half closed, sleepy eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Jace, I'm fine. I'm just going to go to bed." Lance settled his head on the pillow beside JC's, and JC smiled at him from mere inches away, both on their sides facing each other.
"Okay," JC sighed softly; tiredly. "G'night, luv."
Lance couldn't resist lightly stroking the side of JC's cheek, smiling sweetly as JC leaned kittenishly into the touch. "Night, baby," he whispered softly, studying JC's perfect features before letting his hand fall between them and slowly drifting off to sleep.
"JC, we are so late," Lance groaned as they dashed through the parking lot at the studio. They were both wearing their Fumanskeeto shirts, Lance's green and JC's red, and they were already a half an hour late. Joey had already called them and told them that Johnny was pissed, and Lance glared at JC while explaining that JC forgot to set the alarm. JC had simply shrunk down guiltily in the passenger seat and twiddled his thumbs the whole way over.
"I know, Lance. You keep telling me," JC panted as they ran as quickly as their legs would take them. "But look at it this way: we're fashionably late. Everyone else is already there!"
"Jace!" Lance moaned, his feet pounding on the pavement as the plastic sack he held swung around his legs with every step. "We're supposed to be meeting the new choreographer! Not only is he going to get a bad first impression of me because I can't dance, but now he's going to think that I can't be on time, either! At least you can dance, and that works as a redeeming quality for you!"
JC laughed as he breathed, carrying his own sack with the shirts in them. "I told you, Lance, you'll do fine!" They burst through the double doors that led from the outside of the building in, smiling weakly and nodding at their body guards as they ran by, taking note of the guards' smirks.
"It's JC's fault!" Lance called at them, slowing down enough to turn around and look at them. JC gave the door to the studio a shove and Lance faced forward again, running smack dab into JC's back. "Ow, Jace," Lance muttered, stepping back from where he had crashed into his best friend. "What was that--? Uh oh."
Five very stoic faces glared at them.
Joey had his hands stuffed in his back pockets, and he had a grim line making his lips flat. Chris was beside him, wearing a frown. Justin was beside him, scowling at Lance and JC. Johnny was on the other side of Justin, his arms crossed over his chest and radiating disappointment and disapproval. On the other side of Johnny was a new person, around 5'11, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, tan skin, and a dancer's muscular body. He was certainly cute, and he was staring at the two in the doorway with a slight smile of amusement.
"We forgot the alarm," Lance offered weakly, trying to smile at them.
No one smiled back.
"Ahh..." Lance glanced at JC nervously, who was still staring at the six in the room, and deciding that JC wasn't going to be any help, he held up the bag he carried. "We brought presents?"
Still no response.
Lance frowned as he pondered what he could do next to make them say something, and turned helplessly to JC, who met his eyes and then addressed the occupants of the room. "We're sorry that we're late," JC told them contritely. "But really, it's my fault. Not Lance's."
Johnny sighed in exasperation. "Just get to work you two. And pass out your presents before the other guys kill you."
Lance flashed a grin. Johnny was such a great guy. He really looked out for them. Lance reached inside his bag and pulled out a dark blue shirt, tossing it straight at Justin, who caught it in one hand mid-air. Lance took the other shirt from his bag, the gray one, and tossed it at Joey, whose stomach it ended up in. JC threw both Chris and Johnny their shirts at the same time, one in each hand with perfect aim, and then calmly strode up to the new guy and handed him the shirt.
"Hi! I'm JC. Sorry about being late on our first meeting. Not exactly the first impression we wanted to make."
Lance followed JC to the guy and held out his hand. "I'm Lance," he said politely, just as he was brought up to do.
The guy grinned. "I'm Parker. Parker Davis. Nice to meet you both." He had a firm grip and an easy smile, and Lance found himself instantly charmed. His dark, mischevious eyes lingered on Lance's for a second longer before he turned to JC and shook JC's hand. "And don't worry about being late. I'm surprised I made it here on time." Lance and JC both grinned, Lance utterly captivated. Lord, he was like a boy-crazy school girl. He was fallin' for them left and right!
"It's my line!" Chris exclaimed excitedly, and Lance broke the stare he was having with Parker to grin at one of his best friends. "Where did you guys find these?"
"At the store," Lance teased, holding out his arms and spinning for them to give the 360 degree look at the shirt. He turned back, smiling. "Jace and I saw them and knew we had to get them and share the wealth."
"This is awesome!" Chris yelped, practically jumping up and down. He hugged Lance, and then JC, and then ordered, "Everyone put them on!"
Joey arched an eyebrow. "You want us to strip here? Now? In the middle of the studio?"
Chris made a waving motion with his hand. "Come on, come on! I wanna see those stomachs, people! My shirts are on bodies! Whoohoo!"
Lance snickered and exchanged an amused look with JC, finding his glance including Parker, who was smiling at... Lance? Lance flushed and looked away, embarassed, and found his gaze on Justin, just in time to see him calmly stripping out of the Hard Rock Cafe tee shirt he wore to reveal that body that should be outlawed, and Lance couldn't help the way his lips fell apart. He quickly averted his eyes, however, his heart thudding against his chest and his mouth feeling like cotton as he shook where he stood, his mind's eye still seeing Justin's hard chest, naked... Oh Jesus...
JC placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, startling him out of his revere, and Lance gulped and offered a tentative, weak smile for JC's sake. JC was frowning and his grip became more protective, but he said nothing. When Lance dared glance in Justin's direction again, he found Justin in the Fumanskeeto shirt and staring straight at Parker, who was still staring at Lance. Lance's eyebrows drew together in confusion and bewilderment, especially at the almost pleased smile Parker was giving him.
Lance looked away.
"If you guys are ready," Johnny sighed. "We can begin now."
Parker clapped his hands together. "Excellent idea! Let's take it from the beginning, shall we?"
Lance groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. This was going to be a long day.
Lance flopped down on the ground, laying flat on his back and his limbs spread as he panted for air in his exhausted state. They had been practicing and working for the past four hours straight, with only a ten minute break at the two hour marker, and he was completely sapped for energy. He couldn't even get his head up.
"I think I'm dying," he wheezed, when JC peered down at him.
JC laughed. "You're not dying," he objected, dropping down beside Lance but sitting up. He was covered in sweat and guzzling water from a bottle. "You're just tired." He held out the now half-empty bottle. "Want some?"
Lance shook his head, still gasping for air. "No water, just rest," he begged. "I can't do this. I'm too old for this."
"Ha! You don't know what old is," Chris informed him, sitting down on Lance's other side. "I'm almost 30 and I'm doing this. If I can, so can you."
Lance glared at him.
"Lance is just a wimp," Justin offered, sitting down on JC's other side and taking large gulps from a waterbottle. His pointed look was not lost on Lance, who met Justin's eyes evenly. "Can't take the 'strenuous' work."
Lance shrugged uncaringly, purposefully looking away from Justin. "I wasn't born to be a dancer or even someone with rhythm. I was meant to sing, and that's what I do." He glanced at Justin, knowing that his green eyes were probably dark. "Not all of us can be perfect like you, angel boy." As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, his mind drifted back to the day on the bus when he had caught sight of Justin sleeping, practically surrounded in his own halo, and he swallowed hard, his mind flashing the pictures back at him rapidly of how beautiful he was.
Justin smirked. "I know. I'm just naturally better than everyone else. What can I say? I was born this way, and you can't mess with greatness."
Lance's head snapped to his side and he glared up at the curly headed boy. "You're so arrogant, Justin, that I wonder how you get clothes over your oversized head."
Justin shrugged innocently, but there was nothing innocent about those snapping blue eyes. "You're the one stroking my ego. If you don't want me to think I'm perfect, then don't say so."
"Well, someone who knows the real you has to, otherwise you'd think you were as worthless as you really are." Lance knew the words would sting Justin, and from the looks of how quickly his face paled, it had worked. Wordlessly Justin pushed up off of the ground and stalked out of the studio, giving the door a brutal shove as he stormed out and it hit the wall with a loud smack before it shut furiously behind him. They all cringed at the sound, and Joey and Parker stopped working in front of the mirror to look over at Lance, Chris, and JC. Lance was vaguely aware that they were all looking at him, but his eyes were on the shut door.
"That was cold, man," JC told him softly. "You know how Justin feels about that."
Lance slowly brought his eyes to meet JC's. "Why do you think I said it?" he countered, then took a deep breath and lifted himself from the ground, standing. "I'll be right back." Without turning to look at the others, he followed through the door Justin had went out through.
The body guards pointed down the hallway, and Lance offered them a weakly thankful smile before going down it, searching to the very back corners of the studio hallways--the most deserted hallway of all of them--before finally finding Justin sitting in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms on his knees, his forehead resting on his arms. His breathing sounded hard and labored, like he was either trying not to cry or was trying to avoid hurting something or someone.
Lance could only stare for a moment at the boy who was larger than life and was currently curled up protectively to himself before feeling his heart break. He silently slipped over to Justin's side and knelt beside him, placing a hand on Justin' back. Justin tensed and became stiff, lifting his head to reveal red, angry eyes.
"Don't touch me," Justin ordered, his voice low and from someplace deep within.
Lance sighed. "I'm sorry about what I said, Justin. It was a lie and very uncalled for."
"Yeah, and now you can sit there and feel guilty about it for a few days. I could care less. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you."
"What, your arm is so much more interesting to look at?" Lance returned flippantly, desperate for Justin to forgive him. As much as he and Justin fought, he hated it when Justin was actually angry with him, and he knew that he'd screwed up. He should not have used that against Justin, because he knew how sensitive about that subject Justin was. He and Justin had key subjects they just didn't mess with each other on; unwritten boundaries. And Lance had just crossed it.
Justin glared at him furiously. "Well it's a lot prettier than you," he snapped. "So you can just go away now, thank you."
Lance shrugged. "I've been told that I'm very pretty," he objected. "I don't think your arm is more prettier than me."
Justin's jaw clenched. "Your arm is going to be broken in about five seconds if it doesn't stop touching me," he warned darkly. "And then it'll be really really pretty."
Lance sighed quietly and ran his hand across the smooth muscles of Justin's back before letting his hand fall off and clasp with his own in his lap. "You going to be grumpy for a few hours or a few days? Just a rough estimate, because we all know how long you hold grudges."
Justin's entire demeanor became impossibly darker. "Did you come find me to apologize or to dig yourself into a deeper hole?"
"I came because the guys would have kicked my ass if I hadn't," Lance answered plainly, watching Justin's blue eyes blaze furiously.
"Well I'm going to kick your ass if you don't leave. So move!" Justin's voice was booming and he sounded so livid that Lance was half tempted to go just under the promise his voice held. But no, he had come with the purpose of apologizing, and that was what he was going to do. He had been wrong in attacking Justin on such a sensitive subject, and he was going to tell Justin just that.
"Look, I am apologizing," Lance offered, shrugging. "I'm sorry that I said something about a subject I know is very hard on you, and I didn't mean it." He stood, knowing that he wasn't going to get anything else out of Justin. "I'll be in the studio with the other guys." He listened to his shoes scuff along the linolium hallway as he walked, straining for any sound from Justin, but he was silent.
"Why do you say stuff like that?" Justin sighed so softly that Lance almost didn't catch it as he turned the corner. He pulled back and turned to look at Justin, leaning his shoulder against the wall and shoving his hands in his back pockets. Justin's head was down, but he was clearly talking to Lance, so Lance answered him.
"Because it hurts you," he responded honestly. "And sometimes when you hurt me or make me angry, I want to make you feel the same way."
Justin nodded, his gaze studying the ground intently. "I understand that. I feel the same way about you. But god damn, Lance," his eyes came up and met Lance's, and Lance had to admit he was startled at the pain in those depths, "why do you always know exactly where to hit to make it ache?"
Lance felt a stab go through his own heart, and slowly he crossed back to Justin's side, dropping beside him and yet not letting any inch of his body touch Justin's. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Justin," Lance told him seriously, meaning every word that passed through his lips. "I love to banter with you, and while the other guys think it's pretty bad, I don't. But there are some things that not even I am comfortable or like saying, and what I said to you is one of them. I don't think you're worthless. No one does."
Justin sighed and dropped his head back to his arms. "I really hate you sometimes, Lance," he muttered quietly.
"I know," Lance breathed, feeling the words like another stab in his heart as he leaned his head back against the cool wall and closing his eyes. "I know."
"Are we ready to partay?!" Joey howled, slinging an arm around Justin's shoulders.
Lance smiled tiredly at them as he hoisted his bag up onto his shoulder. He, for one, was not ready to "partay." He was going to go home and sleep and rest his exhausted, aching body. Maybe have a little bath first, but then, bed.
"I'm in," Justin agreed easily, picking his bag up off the ground.
"Me too," Chris chimed in happily, grinning as Justin wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
JC hesitated and looked over at Lance. "You wanna go?" JC asked, a bit hopefully. Lance smiled. It was sweet of JC to not want to go without Lance, but Lance wanted him to have a good time.
"I'm sore, but you go, Jace." Lance looked over at Chris. "Y'all can bring him home, right?"
Chris nodded. "Of course. He stayin' with you?"
Lance nodded in confirmation, then turned to JC, who was studying him. "You have fun, Jace," he told his best friend reassuringly, smiling at him. "I'll be at home when you get there."
JC hesitated, and Lance laughed. "We're parked in back," Chris piped up to Lance. "Where're you?"
"Front," Lance answered, shrugging. His eyes met JC. "You cool?"
JC nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm cool. See you tonight."
Lance nodded. "Definitely. I'm out, y'all. See ya tomorrow." He turned to the door and then turned back, his eyes piercing through Joey's. "And Joey, I swear to god that if you somehow get alcohol in your system, I will go into your home with a marching band. Got it?"
Joey gulped. "Got it."
Lance flashed a grin. "Good." He turned his attention on Parker. "It was nice to meet you, man. I look forward to working with you."
"Ass-kisser," Justin muttered.
Lance's eyes shot to him, where he was standing under Chris' arm with a disgusted look on his face as he glared at the floor. "All of 'em but yours, baby," Lance tossed back flatly, watching as Justin's eyes rose, narrowed into slits, and then Lance flashed a grin at the rest of his friends. "Night, y'all." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, still fuming over Justin and his annoying self. Sometimes Justin just pissed the hell out of him.
"Hey, wait up!" someone called. Lance turned around in the dark, dimly lit hallway, and smiled as he saw Parker running towards him. He waited until Parker caught up, and flashed a grin at him.
"Didn't the other guys invite you to go?" Lance asked, frowning slightly. That didn't sound like his friends at all. They were usually so considerate...
"Yeah, they did, but I've got to get home," Parker explained, grinning sheepishly. "They're nice guys."
Lance found himself smiling and nodding. "All of 'em cept the curly headed one," he told Parker, then smiled slightly at Parker's surprised face. "Oh, ignore me. Justin and I are constantly at each other. He's actually a really nice guy under that conceited egotistical snobby exterior front that he puts up."
Parker snickered. "I can tell you think so."
Lance laughed and glanced at him, nodding appreciatively. "Yeah. Justin and I are very good at making each other mad." He shrugged. "It's all fairly innocent, though, but to the common observer it appears rather cruel." And it was, he reminded himself. Sometimes it got too cruel.
"So," Lance began, changing the subject as they walked through the deserted hallways. "Tell me about yourself. How long have you been doing choreography?"
Parker shrugged. "About four years, I suppose. Two of which I was composing my own dances."
"How did you get started into it?" Lance found himself slightly fascinated by the man beside him, wondering how this rather attractive man found himself in dance.
"Well," Parker hesitated, glancing at Lance and then sighing. "It helps when your dad is the head of Jive. When I was younger he'd bring me into the studio's and I'd get to watch the bands rehearse. When I'd go home I'd practice what I'd saw, and I've been doing it ever since."
Lance stopped short and stared at the back of the man's head, trying to process what he had just heard. But he couldn't have heard Parker correctly... Could he have?! If Parker was the heir apparent, why wasn't he in a college earning a business degree, or studying to take over the freaking company?! What the hell was he doing teaching a boy band with a limited time at the top dance moves?!
Parker turned back slowly, a hesitant, nervous smile on his face. "Yeah, I get that a lot," he told Lance softly, almost conversationally. Lance frowned slightly in confusion, and Parker explained, "That look that says, 'Why aren't you getting a business degree or training to take over the company' face."
Lance's eyes widened in surprise. Parker had read him amazingly well. The poor guy probably did get that same look a lot. Lance tried to push down his shock and surprise as best as he could and cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his shaky lips. "Well, if you're happy doing what you're doing," Lance offered slowly, "then you should be proud of it."
Parker grinned. "Thanks. You have no idea how hard it is to find someone to say that."
Lance shrugged slowly. "It's not my place to judge. If you like to choreograph, then that's what you should do. I'm surprised, yes, I'll admit openly to that. But it's not like you don't have the rest of your life to take over the company, right?"
Parker smiled happily. "Right."
Lance nodded and then resumed walking, still in shock but trying to get over it. He was hanging out with the boss' son? Amazing. This guy was the kid of a multi-millionaire, possibly billionaire, and he was just wandering around like a regular guy.
Well so are you, and you're a millionaire, a small voice in Lance's mind reminded.
Lance scowled. Shut up, you.
The voice snickered back at him, and Lance shook his head slightly in disbelief, deciding that he was going to have to be visiting the funny farm soon. Very, very soon.
They pushed through the double doors, confronted immediately by the cold night air like a slap in the face. The parking lot was practically deserted, except for a few sporatically spaced cars, and even though Lance was almost in the very back, he could see his car through the artificial blue parking lot lamp posts. He hated those blue lights. They always blocked out the luminance of the beautiful moon and stars, making it almost impossible to star gaze in the parking lot while he had to walk out to his car.
"I'm over there," Parker told Lance, pointing in the opposite direction Lance was about to head.
"I'm way back there," Lance laughed, pointing in the direction of his car. Parker grinned, and they slapped hands. "Pleasure, man. I look forward to working with you."
"Me too," Parker told him seriously, and Lance paused, studying the man who was only inches taller than him. Those dark brown eyes were gazing intently into his own, and Lance blushed when he realized that they hadn't released each other's hands yet. He quickly pulled away and took a few steps towards his car.
"Lata," Lance offered nervously, unsure of what had just happened. He wasn't interested in their choreographer, was he? Sure he was cute and kinda fun to hang out with, but damn... He was the boss' son and their choreographer! He was their employee!
Parker smiled and nodded. "Bye, Lance."
Lance smiled weakly and hesitated, studying him for a moment under the blue lights, and then abruptly turned and headed off towards his car, still shaking slightly. He was exhausted, and as he walked out, his eyes seemed to be getting heavier and heavier to keep open. His sore body was protesting the long trek, and his muscles were aching as the steps he took towards the car seemed to somehow push him farther and farther away. Finally, by some grace of a miracle, he reached his car and unlocked it, throwing his bag inside and climbing in himself, immediately locking the doors. He was always getting teased by the other guys because of his compulsion to lock the doors, but he couldn't stand it if they were unlocked. He had heard a story once about a man who was driving and got stopped at a stop light, and someone strolled right up to his car, opened the back seat, reached inside, took the man's briefcase and laptop, and ran off before the man could even get his seatbelt undone. Now that was scary, and ever since then, his doors were always locked.
Weakly Lance stuck the key in the ignition and turned the car on, listening to the familiar grind as it started up and then began to purr silently. He reached out with a heavy hand and turned on the radio, finding his favorite country station. JC was always putting it on some classical or jazz, and as much as Lance was all for that, he sometimes really missed his country.
With a sigh, Lance reopened his eyes and decided that the pit of exhaustion building in his stomach wasn't going to go away, and there was no way he'd be spending the night in the studio parking lot in his car. It just wasn't even an option. Somehow Lance managed to put the car into gear, and he rolled out of the parking lot.
Driving woke him up a bit, and thankfully he was able to make it home in one piece. He had never been more relieved to see his drive way in his entire life as when he pulled the car into it and stopped it, cutting the engine and grabbing his bag, tiredly rummaging through his pockets for his keys. He was certain that he had stuck them in his pocket someplace...
Triumphantly Lance found them and smiled to himself, looking up as he took a step onto the bottom stone step.
His keys went crashing to the ground as he froze in shock.
The boy smiled nervously. "I was in the neighborhood," he offered, sounding slightly shaky. "I thought I'd stop by."
Lance gaped at him.
Ace smiled weakly. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for..."
Lance cleared his throat, shaking himself, and forcing his heart to start beating again. When it did, his mouth still felt like cotton but he stooped down to retrieve his keys anyway, his heart pounding so furiously against his tight chest that it felt like his heart was actually shaking his entire body. "You must be freezing," he heard himself say, slowly climbing the stone steps to the porch. As he approached, the boy stood to match--and surpass--Lance's height. "Want some tea or coffee or something?"
Ace smiled in relief. "That would be great, thank you."
Lance nodded, turning his attention back to the doorknob and key, frowning when it wouldn't go in. He was trembling so hard that he couldn't hold the damn key still enough to get it in. He scowled, then flushed with embarassment, finally just giving the key one good shove. To his utter relief, it slid in, and he twisted it, pushing the door open and going inside, then holding it open for Ace to enter behind him. He smiled unconsciously when Ace wiped his feet before stepping inside, and then slowly closed the door behind them, locking two of the five locks.
"How long have you been out there?" Lance asked, taking the opportunity to study the boy in the dim blue street light that filtered in through the windows surrounding the door. Ace's blond hair was perfectly spiked, unlike Lance's messed up own, and silently he cursed himself for not checking his appearance or caring about it earlier. He needed a shower desperately; he was probably offending the poor boy. Ace's eyes were blue, even in this crappy lighting, and Lance was positively captivated by them. His build was firmer and stronger than Lance's own, not to mention taller, by at least 3 or 4 inches, maybe more. He was wearing a pair of baggy khaki's and a dark blue shirt with white stripes along the sleeves and across the chest. He was a very skatery-prep, a style that Lance loved.
Ace shrugged. "Not too long, but long enough to get cold."
Lance shook himself, flushing brightly. Here he was admiring the hard body in front of him while the poor boy was freezing to death. "Of course. Kitchen's this way." He gestured down the hallway, acutely aware of exactly how far away from Lance Ace was, and the distance was less than five inches as the boy followed him.
"Coffee? Tea?" Lance asked, turning on the kitchen lights and watching as a bright light flooded the room. Lance winced against it, and since Ace did too, he used the dimmer switch to dull it out a bit more and make it more comfortable for both of them. He pulled out a chair a few inches for Ace to take as he turned on the tea kettle.
"Tea would be great," Ace breathed relievedly. "I love tea."
Lance smiled slightly and nodded. "Me too." He, on the other hand, was going to need coffee. Not that he was particularly tired anymore; he'd discovered that he was now very awake and aware of his surroundings. He went to the coffee pot and carried it back to the sink as Ace sank down into the chair, both of them silent for a nerve wracking moment. Lance wasn't sure what to say or do next with the boy that was sitting at his kitchen table, looking as adorable as he possibly could without being arrested.
"You didn't call."
The voice wasn't accusing or angry, but rather, thoughtful and a bit nervous. Lance froze rigidly, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how he was going to explain this one. Slowly he turned around to face the boy, but to his mortification, he discovered that Ace's eyes were on the refridgerator door. "And yet my number is pinned up on your door," Ace continued, finally glancing up at Lance, whose faulty explaination died on his lips at the eye contact. "I can't decide if you're not interested or if you were just scared."
Lance's breath caught in his throat. He could answer either way, and no matter what he did, both sides had major reprocussions that he wasn't sure he was ready to deal with. Oh damn, why did this boy have to come into his life and attempt to screw it up? Everything was going so perfectly and then this kid steps in and wants into Lance's life and he wants him there, only he knows he can't have him... So many god damn problems just because of a cute boy!
"Look," Lance began hesitantly, turning off the water and setting the coffee pot on the counter he leaned against, fearful that if he sat down too close to the kid he'd try something. "I think the first time we met you got the wrong impression about me."
Something flickered in those deep blue eyes. "Did I?"
Lance's heart skipped and a cold sweat broke out over his body. Suddenly it was incredibly hot in that house. He found he couldn't respond, couldn't answer. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to say no... He didn't know what to do, so he simply stood there and stared at the boy helplessly.
"If you're not interested, just tell me and I'll quit wasting both our time," Ace told him, standing slowly and to Lance's horror, crossed the few feet between them until their bodies were only inches apart.
Lance didn't know what to do. "Sit down," he instructed softly, shyly. "It's cold and you need something warm to drink. The tea will be ready in a moment."
"That," Ace began slowly, taking Lance's arm in his hand gently. "Is avoiding the question. Are you, or are you not, interested in me?"
Lance froze, paralyzed with fear. How could he answer that? He flushed under the boys' careful scrutiny, and finally let out a soft sigh. "Yeah," he admitted slowly. "Yeah, I'm interested in you."
Ace's face broke out into a relieved grin, and Lance found himself smiling back before he could stop it from happening. "Thank god," Ace breathed happily. "I was worried that you were just being nice to me out of pity or something."
Lance couldn't resist a small chuckle. "Not exactly."
Ace grinned and released Lance's arm, tucking his hands in his back pockets as he backed away a few feet. "Good. I-I mean, 'cause I'm interested in you, too. But you knew that already. Right? Of course you did, I'm not being very subtle about it. I'm not normally like that, I promise. I'm actually more of a, 'you come to me' kinda guy." He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm not exactly the bravest person in the world."
Lance found this sudden shyness very appealing, and he smiled back hesitantly. "Well I'm glad that you were, at least in this instance," he admitted, his eyes on the linolium floor.
"Me too," Ace agreed softly, and Lance looked up and met his eyes before they smiled at each other.
~~~~End Part Three~~~~