NOTES & DISCLAIMERS: All made up. For entertainment only. Thanks to Kel, and to all the betas who've read our fic before and the lovely people who sent us feedback and all the great authors we've read. It's been a lovely year and we hope y'all keep reading for many more. Also, as an anniversary nod, title is from the Holy Childhood album, Up With What You're Down With.

THE HOLY CHILDHOOD MEETS ITS MAKER ON A MYSTERY HILL

"You know, there's a lot of ways this could have turned out." Lance smiled, trying not to cry.

"Well, yes. I mean, uh, I could be shorter or something scary like that," Justin said.

"That is not what I meant."

Justin fiddled with his tie. "What'd you mean?"

"I just meant." Lance smiled again, but it came out more like a grimace. "As far as blind dates go, getting set up with you isn't the worst thing in the world."

"Yeah." Justin frowned. "It's just, uh, Chris was all, you know, I know this hot guy, blah, blah, he won't ever talk, you should go out with him. Um, I kinda wasn't expecting you. I know you."

Lance sat down on the curb outside the restaurant. "Yeah, I know you, too, dumbfuck. And Joey said the same fucking shit and went on and on about how this guy was so hot."

Justin bit his lip. "Are you saying I'm not hot?"

"Shit." Lance rested his elbows on his knees. "You're hot. You're so hot, I can feel it from here. You're on fire, you're so hot."

"Look, I know you were probably planning on getting laid tonight -- Lord knows I was -- but you don't have to be an ass about it." Justin sounded kind of sad.

Lance sighed. "You are hot, Justin. Really. But you know that."

Justin sat down next to Lance. "I never should'a told Chris I wanted to meet guys. Or that Brit's decided she's a fucking lesbian. All my problems, right there."

Lance sighed. "Glad to know I'm now one of your problems."

Justin nudged Lance's knee with his foot. "Dude, chill. Also, didn't you have a boyfriend?"

"Had. I had a boyfriend. "

"You've had many boyfriends, right?"

Lance shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, you've dated more guys than I have." Justin sighed again. "Shit, Brit's dated more guys than I have and she is, as previously stated, a fucking lesbian."

"She's really a lesbian?"

"For serious."

Lance laughed. "I thought you were kidding when you told us that. How'd you find out?"

"I walked in on her when she was eating out Pink. I wasn't kidding when I told you that, either."

Lance said, "I'm sorry. Uh, also, I'm sorry I made all those jokes when you told us."

Justin shrugged. "S'okay. I, you know, I just played along since y'all thought it was a joke. Um, you know, until later when Chris found me all depressed."

"Yeah, then I'm really sorry." Lance nudged Justin. "I guess we could go in and eat. You know, since Chris and Joey went to all this trouble to set us up."

Justin stood up. "Sure. We can save the receipt and make 'em reimburse us." Justin held out his hand and Lance grabbed it, and stood up, too.

"Was it hot?"

Justin frowned. "What?"

"Brit and Pink."

"Was it hot when you walked in on Freddy and that guy?"

Lance opened the restaurant door. "Jesus, Justin."

"No, it wasn't hot, Lance. What the fuck do you think?"

Lance shook his head. "You had to bring up Freddy."

"One low blow deserves another, yo."

They sat at the table for a while without talking. Finally Lance thought he'd better say something. "So, you're gay."

Justin made a face. "Duh."

"Okay, well, you know, I remember when you were confused. Hell, I remember when you said you were straight."

"Dude, that was, like, a day." Lance watched Justin attack his pasta.

Lance said, "Dude, that was like the first two years I knew you."

Justin said, "Well, you know, I'm all figured out now. I like boys more than girls and I was hoping to meet a cute boy tonight and instead I get you. My life sucks. Do you know how hard it is to meet guys?"

Lance said, "Yes. Hello?" He flicked his finger repeatedly against Justin's forehead.

Justin said, "Ow, stop that."

"You're really Captain Oblivious sometimes, aren't you?" Lance withdrew his hand.

Justin looked up with red sauce on his lips. "What do you mean?"

"Just, telling me it's hard to meet guys. That's like telling me your hair is hard to style. I already know, J." He started cutting his steak. "You probably said the same thing to Chris."

Justin wiped his mouth. "Nah, he's got JC. He doesn't wanna listen to my loser single problems, I think."

"And neither of us have anyone. We're both fucking losers that had to rely on our friends to set us up and they couldn't think of anyone enough of a loser for either of us so we ended up with each other." Lance made a little mound with his mashed potatoes and crushed it.

"You're not a loser, man." Justin sniffed. "I mean, okay, I'm kind of a loser, you know, ha, ha, you're working on your first solo album, you're 21 and life is your platter and shit and --"

Lance said, "Wait, I'm lost, I'm not working on a solo album and I'm 23 and were you talking about you?"

Justin said, "Yes. I was talking about me."

"You said you. Like you were talking about me."

Justin studied his hands. "I was talking about me. But I was making a point."

"So what's your point?"

"That y'all think my life is perfect or whatever."

Lance licked mashed potatoes off his fork. "I don't think your life is perfect."

"I really kind of think you do."

"Are you generally this accusatory when you go out on dates? Because I'm thinking maybe that's why you're having trouble finding a boyfriend." Lance signaled for the check.

"I don't have a boyfriend because I just started looking. Back off, man, we can't all be super stud Lance Bass." Justin pulled out his wallet.

"Oh, no, no, I'm paying. Joey's gonna have to make this shit up to me." When the waiter came, Lance grabbed the check out of his hand.

Justin reached over and snatched the check from Lance's hand. "I'm paying, damn it. I put on a tie for this fucking thing."

"Oh, that's such an imposition. How can you breathe? Oooooooh, a tie. Justin Timberlake put on a tie for me." Lance sat back. "You pay, please. And pass me a twenty for putting up with you."

Justin threw a fifty at Lance. "Here, keep the change." Justin stood up and walked out. Lance grabbed the fifty and marched after Justin.

"Doofus," Lance said. Justin turned and stood in the doorway of the restaurant.

"You coming or what?"

Lance butted his shoulder against Justin's chest. "Can't get out of here fast enough."

"You wanna know the worst part?" Justin called, trailing behind Lance.

"I'm impressed that you can actually single one part out."

"I didn't get laid." Justin ran in front Lance and put his hands on his hips.

Lance leaned against his car. "Yeah, my date didn't put out, either."

Justin said, "Well, fuck, sorry. Dude, fix it both for us, get on your knees."

"Oh, you're so fucking romantic. I'm not gonna blow you in the parking lot." Lance turned around and started opening the car door.

Justin said, "Well, fine, we'll go to my house."

"We're not going to your house. We can fuck at my house." Lance resisted the urge to stamp his feet.

"We will not. Fuck, I don't wanna drive home after. My house."

Lance said, "No fucking way. I don't wanna drive home either." Lance pulled open the door on his Range Rover. "We can fuck in the car."

Justin shrugged. "Fine." He got in the backseat and took off his tie. Lance got in the front seat and turned around to look at Justin.

"Dude, we're not doing it here where anyone can see us."

Justin waved at Lance and then took off his jacket. "So drive somewhere where we won't get gawked at. I am getting laid tonight, damn it."

"Yeah, Justin, I'm gonna drive to a park and we can get nice and caught, George Michael-style."

Justin toed off his shoes. "George Michael? Shit, you really are gay."

Lance kissed Justin hard, for no reason really except that Justin actually looked really hot. He was hot, Lance thought, he'd always been hot. He just didn't always need to be told.

In addition to being hot, Justin was a really good kisser. Nice use of tongue, Lance thought, and definite points for using teeth.

"We're really gonna go somewhere else, aren't we?" Justin said, palms damp on Lance's neck.

"I actually do think my house is closer."

"Close is good," Justin said, and nibbled Lance's jaw. "Let's go right this minute."

Justin, minus his shoes, jacket and tie, hopped from the back seat to the passenger seat and put on his seat belt. As Lance drove away from the restaurant, Justin said, "Dude, my place is closer, really, turn left here."

Lance turned left and then left again as Justin grabbed his arm and directed him to a back entrance to Justin's gated community. When they got to the security gate, Justin leaned over and hurriedly typed in his code. Justin was sweating and Lance decided he liked it, Justin all pressed close while he reached out the window.

Then Justin sat back and said, "Okay, now left."

Lance started to turn left and then Justin said, "I meant, right. Right. Fuck, sorry."

Lance said, "Okay, maybe you should just drive, dork."

"Fine, move." Lance copped a feel as they switched seats. Justin immediately started driving too fast and taking what seemed like fourteen million turns.

"This is maybe not closer, Justin." Lance braced his hands against the door as Justin swung the car to the left.

Justin said, "Ha, fuck you because here we are." Justin parked Lance's car, turned it off, grabbed the keys and got out before Lance had completely gotten off his seat belt.

He kind of bounded up to the house, eager, and Lance laughed because, man, it must've been a long time since the kid got laid. Justin jangled his keys in the door. When they stepped inside, he stood toward the center of the room and said, "So, are we gonna, like, undress each other? Or just go at it?"

Lance grinned. "Well, I don't want to put an analyzation on your foreplay skills, but they could use a little work."

Justin gave Lance the finger. "Fuck you. I said that one fucking time." He crossed the room and slid his hands up under Lance's shirt. His nice, big hands. "That better?"

Lance shuddered and said, "Yes." Then they were kissing and groping, standing in the middle of the room and Lance almost laughed against Justin's lips. Lance grabbed Justin's waist and pulled him towards a couch. He said, "Couch, I think, okay?"

Justin blinked. "Yeah. Except, you know. Well, okay, the stuff that we might need if we decided to engage in, um, intercourse, it's upstairs in the bedroom."

Lance pressed his lips together so he didn't laugh. He said, "Next to the vanilla candles? The stock of rose petals?"

Justin frowned. "I don't have a stock of them. It's for very special occasions. And yes, as a matter of a fact, I do have it all in the drawer underneath the candles. There's nothing wrong with aromatherapy. Smell is an incredible, um, sense. It's very important to the sensual experience."

Lance couldn't stop himself from laughing. He said, "Do you actually have a dick? Seriously?"

Justin pulled away from Lance and pulled off his shirt. "Wanna see? God, could you be more shallow? Do you have any more cheap stereotypes you wanna pull out and use to make fun of me?"

Lance looked at Justin's chest and was glad Justin had all of his questionable tattoos on his legs. It would be a shame to ruin that beautiful skin with his initials or little feet like Nick Carter. "I was more thinking we could listen to some meditation music and give each other facials."

"And you were bitching about the things I said on dates."

Lance ran his fingers along Justin's ribcage. "J, you know I love you more than my luggage."

"Mmm," Justin said, tugging at Lance's belt, "you're quoting 'Steel Magnolias.'"

"I never could resist Dolly Parton." Lance dipped his tongue into Justin's ear. "Also, I figured you'd probably seen it, since it takes place in a beauty parlor and all."

Justin made a little gasp. Then he said, "Brit made me watch it. Okay?"

Lance laughed again. "Enough times that you can recite dialogue?"

Justin slipped his hands under Lance's pants, grasping at his ass. Lance rocked forward and Justin gripped harder. Justin said, "Um. First, you're not wearing underwear. You were planning to get laid, weren't you? And second, you know all the dialogue, too."

Lance drew a shaky breath. He said, "I was planning to get laid. I am still hoping. And my mom and Stacy love that movie. I don't know every line, okay?"

Justin pulled Lance against his crotch and nipped at Lance's neck. It was hot like making out and sweat and clinging sheets and Lance decided he could put up with an infinite number of candles and flowers everywhere for more of it. He said, "Upstairs then?"

Justin smirked and pulled away. "Sure."

Justin's bedroom was surprisingly normal. There was that weird framed Michael Jackson thing over the bed, but Lance forgot about that when Justin put his mouth around Lance's dick.

He hummed a little and Lance figured it was Justin's version of spelling the alphabet with his tongue. "You're -- Justin, please tell me you're not beatboxing."

Justin pulled back and smirked. "You want me to stop?"

Lance dug his fingers into Justin's scalp. "No."

Lance closed his eyes and thought briefly about Justin doing that stupid human beatbox during the Strings tour and opened his eyes and watched Justin's pretty mouth sliding up and down. One for the record books, he thought, or some kind of book as long as it was written down in bright white letters as big as a fucking house. It was pretty much as enjoyable as Lance had thought it would be when he was seventeen and there was very little in his life where that was true.

Justin sat up and licked his lips before Lance came. Lance blinked and said, "Um. Could you keep doing that? I would like that."

Justin said, "No, no, I intended to get well fucked tonight and I'm not gonna wait around for you to regroup or something." Justin pressed a condom into Lance's hand. "You deal with this."

Lance ripped it open with his teeth and put it on. He looked at the wrapping and said, "Chocolate flavored. Should I have put this on earlier?"

Justin shrugged. He was pulling off his underwear and fiddling with the cap of the lube. "No, no, they're all like that. I mean, I know I should use them for blowjobs and stuff, but I almost never do, and I have a lot of those because Brit bought them for me when we were, you know, having sex with each other. She likes the chocolate. She says it's good."

Lance said, "Oh, okay. I've never, you know, flavored condoms." He looked at Justin still trying to turn the cap. "Are you having some trouble there, J?"

"Clearly I am, man, fuck you. Can you open this?" Justin shoved the lube in Lance's hand.

"Do I have to do everything?" Lance asked, and stuck the cap between his teeth.

"I didn't make you blow yourself." He paused. "You ever try that?"

Lance pulled off the cap and spit it out. "What, blowing myself? Doesn't everybody?"

Justin laughed. "Seriously, I had a fucking kink in my neck for a week. JC's the only guy I've ever met who could do that."

Lance liked it when Justin laughed genuinely, without any hint of self-consciousness. He had kind of a goofy laugh and he grinned so wide Lance could see all of his teeth. "Yeah, I couldn't do it either," Lance said, and pushed Justin onto his back. "Good thing I had you here to do it for me."

He lubed his fingers and slipped a few into Justin before pushing himself in. Justin arched and gasped. "You know, Bass, I'm surprised you didn't make any sexual chocolate jokes when you saw that there condom."

Lance thrust hard and got Justin to show all of his teeth again. "What can I say, I was trying to be tasteful." Lance thrust again and watched every movement play across Justin's face. He said, "Also, really, anal sex and jokes about chocolate, not really two things that go well together." He grunted as he pushed in again. Justin just took everything, smiled and pushed back.

Lance came, happy bright white letters behind his eyes of yes and good and he really needed to do this again with Justin. He kissed his way down Justin's chest and sucked Justin's dick until Justin arched up, pulling at Lance's hair.

Justin said, "Wow. I guess, uh, I guess Chris was right when he said I'd get good and laid."

Lance smirked. "Glad to oblige."

"I know you had a good time, man. JRT does not disappoint." Justin rolled over and kissed Lance's neck.

"JRT? Please tell me that's not what you call your dick or something. Though that would be better than you suddenly referring to yourself in third person."

"Actually," Justin said, and didn't even blush, "I do call my dick JRT. Or really," Justin slid back and palmed his own dick, "my actual dick is the T. My right testicle is J and my left one is R." He rubbed his thumb over Lance's dick. "What do you call yours?"

Lance looked at Justin's hand. "What do you think I should call it?"

"The Magnificent Bass."

Lance chuckled. "It's not a superhero."

Justin kissed Lance and wrapped his palm around Lance's dick. "I beg to differ. But okay, no Magnificent Bass. I think you should call Big Jim."

Lance closed his eyes. More white letters, this time spelling nonsense words. "Big Jim?"

"Big Jim...and The Twins."

Lance arched up into Justin's hand. He said, "See, I can regroup really fast." He blinked. "Fuck, Justin, did you get that JRT tattoo on your ankle for your initials or for your dick?"

Justin started kissing Lance while his hand moved faster and then it was all bright again, and pretty pretty. Lance sighed and said, "Answer the question."

"I got the tattoo because I lost my virginity. It was, like, symbolic."

"You got the name you call your dick and your testicles tattooed on your ankle to celebrate losing your virginity?" Lance made a face, he hoped, of confusion and not contempt. Justin kept rubbing Lance's dick, up and down, slowly.

"Yeah, basically. So, you know, um. Britney thought it was really stupid." Justin blushed this time.

"Brit's a great girl, you know." Lance licked his lips. "Um, it is really stupid. Seriously. Don't ever tell anyone that again. I thought that tattoo was a little silly before and now I'm just appalled."

"I'm the one who just fucked a Republican. I think if anyone's gonna show the appalled card here, it's gonna be me."

Lance caught his breath. "You did not just say that. Also, I am not a Republican. I used to follow Ronald Reagan because his career was fascinating." Justin wiggled his fingers and Lance paused. "Do that again."

"The finger thing?"

"Yeah."

Justin grinned wickedly and did it again, faster this time. "So you're, what, an Independent?"

"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss our party affiliations." Lance watched the way Justin's tongue was peeking out between his lips from concentration. "So who'd you lose your virginity to?"

Justin let go of Lance's dick, which was just mean, even though he'd just come. Justin reached for a hand towel by the bed and wiped his hands and Lance's stomach. Justin said, "Who do you think?"

"Brit?" Lance rubbed his head and turned on his side.

"Don't be stupid. Nick, of course. Anyway, are you acting like you're gonna stay because you wanna?" Justin stood up and picked up his clothes, folding them carefully.

"Well, we're getting along so well right now, it didn't seem like a jump to think you'd deign to let me stay the night."

"Okay. But, dude, do not skip out in the morning, my shoes are in your car."

"I wouldn't dream of taking off with your precious shoes." Lance leaned back against the headboard. "Are you gonna fold my clothes, too?"

"Listen, Bass, I ain't your bitch."

"Okay, that's fine." Lance watched Justin put his clothes carefully into a hamper and then start picking out his clothes for tomorrow. "But if you don't pick them up, they're just gonna be all heaped up on the floor all night long. They'll get dirty and wrinkly and --"

Justin frowned and folded Lance's clothes quickly, then placed them on his dresser. "You suck."

Lance patted the bed. "Come on, baby. Come back to me."

"Shut up." Justin got back in bed and tucked the sheets carefully around them. "You know, this wasn't the crappiest date I've ever been on. So, thanks."

Lance said, "Oh, please. Like that's not a set-up. What was the crappiest date you've ever been on?"

Justin sighed. "I'm tired. Do we have to talk about this?"

Lance said, "Yes, yes, we do." He patted Justin's shoulder and shimmied closer to Justin. "I'll hold you while you tell the tragic tale."

Justin loved being held by people he trusted, Lance knew, and Justin snuggled closer. He said, "Okay, well, don't tell. But, you know, after Nick, before Brit, there was this one time with Howie."

"So what happened on the date?"

Justin butted his chin against Lance's chest. "Seriously, like, the entire time, he sat there crying about how he still missed Nick."

Lance laughed. "He actually cried?"

"I dunno, it was dark and I couldn't really tell for sure, but I think so." Justin rested his ear on Lance's shoulder. "Also, like, hello, awkward, Nick broke up with him for me. But I couldn't, like, say that."

Lance thought about the time he'd fucked Nick and how Nick had been really drunk and then thrown up all over Lance's dick. "So then what happened?"

"Oh, we went back to his house and had sex. But still. Bad date." Justin put his hand on Lance's hand. "Your turn, worst date."

"Oh. Huh. Oh, god, I went out with Chris once. Did I tell you that?"

Justin chuckled. "No, he did. Because, wow, fuck, do you two not belong anywhere near each other on a romantic basis. That'd be like me and JC dating. Just, you know, fundamentally wrong. Like, uh, sushi and steak sauce. Like DeNiro in a Tom Green movie. Like that."

Lance said, "Okay." He rubbed Justin's cheek, feeling oddly tender towards Justin. It was weird. "Sleep would be good now."

Justin said, "Yeah."

So they slept. Or Justin slept, all sweaty and kinda gross. At least he didn't make noises. Lance lay awake for most of the night, wondering how he'd describe the date to Joey.

Justin woke up early, just as Lance had fallen asleep. "Bass," he said, poking Lance's shoulder. "Bass, wake up. I need the keys to your car, man. I have to get my shoes. Also, do you want any cereal?"

Lance said, "Motherfucker. You threw the keys somewhere in the living room. And I wanna sleep, fuck cereal."

Justin said, "Okay." Lance heard footsteps and Justin murmuring, "Why would anyone fuck cereal, it's not like it's pie or something."

A few seconds later Justin was poking him awake. "Fuck off, I'm asleep," Lance said.

"You're not asleep and you know what? It's been three hours, man. I got my shoes, I cleaned 'em, I had cereal, and I picked up my car from the restaurant. And, dude, Trace came over, so I think we need to sneak you out." Lance blinked and there was Justin with wet hair leaning over him.

Lance said, "Trace can't know you fucked me?"

"No!" Justin looked horrified.

"Dude, my damn car's still parked in your driveway. I'm sure he saw it." Lance wiped his forehead with Justin's sheets. "Also, why can't you just tell Trace that you've got yourself a hot piece of ass up in your bed and you'd like to get back to it?"

Justin wrinkled his forehead. "You wanna fuck again? Because I just took a shower."

"What I want to do is sleep."

"But you can't!" Justin almost hissed. "Trace is here!"

"Jesus Christ, Justin." Lance climbed out of bed and started pulling on his clothes. "I'll leave. Fuck. But I'm not sneaking out."

Justin rolled his eyes. "This is worse than the morning after scene in 'Notting Hill.'"

"How many fucking Julia Roberts movies did Brit make you watch? And also, why can't Trace know I'm up here?" Lance started buttoning his shirt.

Justin said, "Dude, aren't you going to shower? That's gross. You're all sweaty and you just put on your clothes from last night?"

Lance rubbed his shirt against his stomach and then held the shirt out to Justin. Justin, of course, backed away from the shirt. "I'll take a shower if and only if you tell me why Trace can't know I'm up here."

Justin said, "I'll tell you after you shower. And I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, because, yo, that's gross."

Lance let Justin take off his clothes and push him into a warm shower. "There's shampoo up here," Justin said, gesturing, "and the body washes are here and here." He grabbed something from under the sink. "Oh, and here. But this one kind of smells like seafood."

Lance smirked. "Do you have one of those shower poof things, too?"

"Yeah, right --" Justin paused. "Oh. You were making fun of me."

"Yes. Yes, I was."

Justin shook his head. "You are such an angerball in the morning. I'm just gonna leave you to take your shower in peace."

"'Playing By Heart,'" Lance called after Justin. "You saw that because of Ryan Phillippe, huh? Wanted to see what you'd look like making out with Angelina Jolie?"

Justin ducked his head. "Maybe. Just take your damn shower."

Lance used all three shower washes. He used the seafood one on his legs and the one in the pink bottle on his arms. Everything else got the orange one. When he got out of the shower, he smelled like his mother's garden. And the aquarium.

Justin was sitting on the bed with clothes in his hands and something that looked like a fuzzy hat Justin would wear, or a dead rat. But Justin would never let a dead rat on his bed. Lance said, "That's not a wig, is it? You're going to make me wear a WIG?"

Justin said, "It's a nice wig."

"Seriously, did I make JRT angry? Should I apologize to it?" Lance tightened the towel around his waist. "What the hell is that thing, anyway? Did you get it from Elton John?"

Justin scoffed. "No. I'd never take anything Elton gave me out of the case." He held it out to Lance. "Try this on. Or, wait, I guess you should put on these clothes first."

"Look, I took a shower. Why can't Trace find out I'm here?"

Justin pushed Lance onto the settee and started stuffing his feet into an old pair of Justin's pants. "He -- he didn't know I had a date last night."

"Wait, aren't straight guys supposed to get excited when their friends get laid? Aren't all guys supposed to get excited when their friends get laid?" Lance stood and shimmied into the jeans. "Seriously, J, what's the real reason? Are you ashamed of me?"

Justin said, "Those jeans look good. I mean, they were really baggy on me, but on you."

"Fuck you, I'm not fat. I'm incredibly fit. I'm certified astronaut fit." Lance sat back down on the settee.

"No, I mean, I have no ass and I'm really skinny and you're not. You have an amazing ass. You have a great ass." Justin smiled.

"I'm not gonna wear the fucking wig, Justin. And if Trace didn't know you had a date, how does putting on a wig make it better?" Lance stood up and made sure the damn jeans didn't make his ass look big.

"Oh." Justin spun the wig on his finger like a basketball. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Why can't, like, I just tell him that I came over to pick up --" Lance looked around and grabbed something, "this thimble. A thimble?"

"I ripped my shirt last week and needed to fix it. I so don't trust tailors, man." He spun the wig again. "I still think you should wear this. It's made from real human hair, you know."

Lance sat down again. "Have you seriously gone insane? I mean, for real, Justin, you've stopped making sense. It's me, man. Why would Trace think we were out on a date? We met up at a bar and stuff. I was too drunk to drive, you drove me here, and I slept on your fucking settee. End of story."

Justin frowned. "You're right. Fuck, I just got worked up over nothing. Right. Except, fuck no. I can't tell him that. See, here's the real problem. I lied to Trace. I didn't want him to know I'd been reduced to getting blind dates from Chris, you know? So I told him I was, uh, going to this really boring thing. So, you know."

Lance said, "I'm still waiting to understand the wig. Maybe I went to the same thing, you know?"

"No, see, I told him I was going with Britney to some big lesbian thing. Like, um, an earth goddess ritual. I kinda made it up. But the only thing Trace knows about lesbians he learned from porn and Will & Grace." Justin sighed. "So I thought if you wore the wig, I could say you were a really butch lesbian."

"The only way he'd think I was a really butch lesbian is if I had a haircut like that chick in 'Go Fish.' Well, or if I managed to make myself look like how I did in the early days. Except that I wasn't really butch back then."

"Yeah, you really weren't." Justin waved the wig again. "Real human hair," he said hopefully. Then he said, "When did you see Go Fish? Brit made me watch it."

"She made me watch it, too, fuckhead, I was there. I was sitting right next to you. And you kept laughing at all the hot lesbian sex." Lance grabbed the wig. "You want me to pretend to be a woman because you had to salvage your ego in front of Trace? Has Trace seen the video of you winning the beauty pageant?"

Justin looked up hopefully as Lance jammed the wig on his head. "Trace was at the beauty pageant."

"He saw you cry when you beat all those girls and you're embarrassed about not being able to find a guy?" Lance went to the mirror. He looked ridiculous.

"Look, you know, I apologize for this. Let me walk you out." Justin stood up and grabbed Lance's hand. They walked downstairs and Lance hated himself for the way he kept his head down. Trace called out something as they walked by but Lance couldn't distinguish specific words.

Justin stood by the door as Lance walked to his car. "Lance, um, can I have the wig back? Like, not now. But the next time I see you?"

Lance said, "Yeah. You can bet on it. I will actually wait until all five of us are in the same room and I'm going to tell the whole story. Actually, thinking about it, I may wait until it's the five of us, plus Johnny, and Anthony are in the room. I may invite Britney to come. In fact, I'll invite Pink, too. And you know what? Maybe Toure from Rolling Stone." Lance ripped off the wig and threw it on the garage floor.

Lance heard Justin's footsteps behind him, hurrying to pick up the wig. "That dirt should come right out with a little Suave," Lance said over his shoulder. "Seeing as how it's real human hair and all."

"I got this from Elton John," Justin hissed.

Lance turned around. "I thought you said you wouldn't take anything of Elton's out of the case."

Justin bit his lip. "Special circumstances."

"Oh." Lance bit his lip, too. "Sorry."

Justin sighed. "It's okay."

"Also, like, I don't want to rain on your little wig parade or anything like that, but why would it be okay with Trace if you brought home a lesbian?"

Justin stared mournfully at the wig. "I dated Brit, didn't I?"

Lance said, "Okay. If you think you can make Trace believe that."

From behind Justin, Trace said, "Believe what? Yo, Lance, when did you get in? Hey, J bagged a lesbian last night. She was kinda ugly but maybe you saw her leaving. She just left."

Lance looked at Justin who had just shoved the wig down his baggy jeans. Justin's eyes were wide with pleading. Lance said, "Yeah. I just came by to give Justin this thing. And I saw that chick. She had a great ass. You really bagged her, Justin? Do you get a toaster for that or did you just get someone else's toaster taken away?"

Justin looked at his feet. He said, "I didn't sleep with her. She was really nice and all, but you know, we were just talking. She has a girlfriend. Um, she was just using me to make her girlfriend jealous."

Trace said, "Man. That's way too complicated. I'm gonna crash on the couch." He walked inside.

Justin kissed Lance full on the mouth. "Thank you."

Lance leaned against one of Justin's many, many cars. "The past twelve hours have been like one long episode of The Golden Girls."

Justin's eyes went wide. "Oh, my God, you slept with AJ, too?"

Lance nodded. "Yes!"

"Dude, we had to stop in the middle because his favorite episode of The Golden Girls was on. It was the one where -- "

Lance joined in and they said in unison, "Blanche's husband faked his own death!"

They laughed. Justin smiled and said, "Okay, it's okay if you tell everyone about this. It's all really stupid. I've been stupid. But, I've learned my lesson. No more blind dates."

Lance said, "Me, either."

Justin looked at his feet again. "Um. No more blind dates for sure, but if you maybe wanted. Um. To go out again."

Lance said, "Do I have to provide my own wig? Can we have sex under your Michael Jackson shrine again? Will you insult me and call me fat? Offer me chocolate condoms?"

Justin said, "Chocolate flavored condoms. And hey, man, whatever you want. I got good and laid last night." He smirked.

Lance said, "By an ugly lesbian. That you met at some earth goddess ritual."

Justin ran his finger up and down Lance's forearm. "Are you saying you don't wanna go out with me?"

Lance looked at the pretty line of Justin's throat. "What would we do on our date?"

"I'm thinking pretty much what we did last night."

"Works for me," Lance said, and curled his fingers around Justin's. They leaned in at the same time and kissed, wet and warm and then there was a voice behind Justin.

"Holy fuck."

Justin jumped and whipped around. "Um, Trace."

Lance said, "Hey, man, I thought you were taking a nap."

Trace said, "Me, too. But I. Fuck, J, you fucking Lance?"

"Just last night. I mean, that's the only time we've done it." Justin rubbed his forehead. "So, yes, I lied to you. About my date last night. I just, you know, was embarrassed. Which sounds stupid --"

"Okay, yeah, completely stupid. I'd bought you a beer if I knew you had a date with Lance. Shit, you know how many gay friends we have who have a crush on Lance? Dude, my friend Devon's offered me $100 just to introduce him to Lance and --"

Justin laughed. "Okay, okay, I should have told you. I'm sorry, man."

Trace said, "What happened to the lesbian?"

"She, uh, she had to go," Justin said quickly. Lance could see him patting his pants to make sure Trace couldn't see the wig.

"That's cool, yo. Y'all are cool." Trace started toward the house and then turned back around. "Oh, J, I forgot to tell you, your mom's on the phone. Something about a sidecar?"

Justin nodded. "Thanks, man."

Trace disappeared back into the house. Justin sighed deeply and leaned back against Lance's chest.

Lance said, "Well, it all worked out. Happy ending at last."

Justin said, "Look, I'm sorry for all this drama. I mean, not the parts that you started because you're a snarky bitch, but I mean, the me drama. Next time will be better."

"You call me a snarky bitch and you expect I want to go out with you again?"

"Well, yeah."

Lance wrapped his arms around Justin's waist. "Okay."

"Okay, you're a snarky bitch?"

"No, dork. Okay, I'll go out with you."

Justin spun around, kissed Lance hard, and then patted him on the ass. "Tonight, then?"

Lance shrugged. "Eight?"

"Yeah, or something. I'll call you later." Justin started for the house. "Get going, Bass. You'll need your rest for tonight."

THE END

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