They were waiting to be interviewed. By who, he really didn't know -- was sure Lance knew, but Lance looked like he didn't care, even if someone set his shoes on fire. Justin sat across from Chris at the table, drinking hot tea and reading an old issue of Harper's that someone had left in the hotel room. Joey was sprawled across the bed, probably asleep, twitching and sighing occasionally. JC was picking at the fruit plate and humming something that sounded familiar but not quite.

"Lance, what's wrong?" Chris asked.

Lance grunted and didn't look away from the window. "Nothing."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No."

"Good. Because you suck at lying." Chris laid his head down on the table, still looking at Lance. He wished he could just let it go, just let Lance brood. But he couldn't.

Lance had been giving off those weird 'don't mess with me' vibes for a couple of days now. At first, Chris chalked it up to the bad haircut he had gotten, but when he really thought about it, he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him. Lance seemed to have distanced himself from Chris in the last few days, hovering around the Tropic of Cancer while Chris dallied down at the Equator.

Chris sat up and rolled his neck, popping any kinks that had developed. Justin was still reading, although he seemed to be doing origami with the corner of one of the pages, so if must not have been too interesting.

"Hey Justin," Chris said.

"What." Justin looked up and untangled his fingers from the page.

"Ask Lance what's wrong."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Fine." Just sipped some more tea before asking. "Lance, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." More grunting.

"Okay," Justin said, and started reading again.

Chris rolled his eyes and stood up, purposely making a spectacle of stretching his arms and back. He walked over to the bed and poked Joey in the ear.

"You up?"

"Not now," Joey said and rolled over.

"Go ask Lance what's wrong."

"Huh? What, you guys having a fight?"

"No... I don't know... I... just ask him."

Joey sat up on the bed and turned in Lance's direction. "Hey Lance, something wrong?"

"Up your nose with a rubber hose."

JC snickered from across the room, still chewing on the same piece of cantaloupe he'd been eating since they got there.

Chris paced the room a bit, dragging his feet and tapping on the table as he passed it. He thought about telling dirty jokes, hoping maybe one would make Lance laugh, but it would probably just piss him off instead.

Instead he started humming 'I drive myself crazy' and sauntered over to the fruit plate.

"Hey JC..."

"No."

"Please? Just ask him."

"Why? He'll just say no, or insult me, or tell me to stick it where the sun don't shine."

"Because I asked you to, and nicely at that." Chris folded his arms across his chest, tilted his head to the side, and set his mouth in a most pathetic pout.

"Look man, I want no part of whatever irreconcilable issues you and Lance have." He squeezed the cantaloupe rind, letting it drip on his napkin.

"Who says we have issues?"

"No one, I'm just saying--"

"You're just saying what?"

"I'm just saying that if you would just quit acting like a court jester for once, you'd probably already know what's wrong with him."

"What? What happened? What did I miss?"

Chris took a deep breath and let anger that was rising in his chest dissipate. He didn't like being kept out of the loop.

"It's nothing, really. Just don't bother him." JC patted Chris' shoulder. "I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready."

Chris squinted his eyes and then opened them again, just hoping that maybe he just wasn't overreacting. But whatever was wrong with Lance, JC already knew about it, and Justin and Joey probably did too.

He left JC to play with the strawberries and walked over to where Lance was sitting. "Lance?"

"What." Lance had stopped looking out the window, but wouldn't turn his head.

"Stand up."

"No. I'm fine sitting."

Chris crouched down and let his arm lay across the back of the chair. He leaned in close, and with his free hand, turned Lance's face toward him. "Look at me then."

Lance allowed Chris to hold his chin in place, but he kept his eyes looking off to the side.

"Fine, don't look at me." Chris let go of Lance's face and wrapped his arms around him.

Lance didn't move.

"I'm sorry. I wish I knew what was bothering you. Then I could make it better." He rested his head on Lance's shoulder and placed a light kiss on his earlobe.

Slowly, he felt hands go around his waist, and he was pulled into Lance's lap. "Don't be sorry," he said. "I'm just... I don't really want to talk about it."

"Is it about me?" Chris asked.

"Kind of."

"Oh." Chris' hands loosened from Lance's neck and he leaned forward to get up.

"No, don't." Lance tightened his grip. "I just want you here. I don't want to talk."

"Is it something bad though?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay. But stop acting like a gloomy gus -- it's driving me nuts."

"Okay."

They sat there quietly, cuddling, listening to Joey snore, Justin slurping his tea, and JC clinking around the fruit plate, until the interviewer knocked on the door.

End.

Originally written as an *Mprov on 1/6/00 with the words haircut, Tropic of Cancer, origami, up your nose with a rubber hose, irreconcilable, drip, jester.