NOTES AND DISCLAIMERS: So very made up. For entertainment only. Inspired by three of my favorite things from the VH1 program Driven. Thanks to Tiff, Younger and Kel. Also, just in passing? Lance knew Justin from the Mickey Mouse Club.

EVERYBODY HAS SECRETS

Lance has secrets and things he secretly likes and it doesn't bother him, he thinks, really, he likes it. Everybody has secrets.

Lance is popular but he doesn't feel lonely and he isn't mean to people. He isn't haunted by some deep inner feeling that no one really listens to him and he's not very manipulative. He just likes people and he likes people liking him and he doesn't even put much effort into his popularity. That's a secret. Popularity is supposed to be a curse, that's what you see on TV. People kill for it, apparently, though Lance thinks not so much in Mississippi.

Lance has other secrets. He's had sex exactly ten times, twice with his first girlfriend when he was fifteen and after the second time, she moved so they broke up. She still writes sometimes. Then he dated this other girl and they just broke up. She's still a good friend. The secret isn't so much the sex as the way Lance thinks he didn't really enjoy it as much as he should have. It felt like something the girls expected him to do, to push for so they could give in. He didn't enjoy it and he thinks he knows why but that's a really big secret.

Lance can form the words but he never does. It's just sort of there, on the edge of his mind. Like how happy he gets watching football games at the college and how it's maybe not so much about the game itself. He's even done things, or as much as he can get away with drunk, fumbling boys and still call it experimenting and not get a reputation. He liked that way better, so it's officially a secret. Something to say, someday, even though he knows it, really, for sure.

The tapes in the box under his bed are another secret. They're also part of the same big secret. It maybe wasn't so bad when he first started taping. He was just fourteen the first time he saw it and he only started taping because he was kinda interested in what happened next on the stupid soap opera thing. He's a methodical and organized person, so, really, that's why he sat down and made sure he'd gotten all the episodes. It didn't take long since they were showing them Monday through Friday.

But he kept taping when the new episodes started up again back in May. And he's sixteen now. Taping some stupid show from the Disney Channel, some stupid variety show with stupid skits and he still has every episode on tape and he watches his tapes almost every night now that they're only showing the episodes once a week.

His parents gave him the old VCR and he has his own TV in his room. He's home now from school and activities and he had dinner and he's called two of his friends so he puts on a tape and lies on his bed and starts his homework. He doesn't fast forward because it could hurt the tape and he can't re-tape these episodes. He wants to fast forward, though, because he just popped in a tape and he's not that interested in these skits. He mainly likes Justin.

Justin's his favorite. Which is maybe sort of sleazy, but he checked, he found something in a magazine and Justin's only nineteen months younger than him. They must have filmed these episodes a while ago or something because Justin still looks pretty young and he must be at least fourteen now. Fourteen's okay. If Justin were in his high school, he'd be a freshman probably and Lance knows a couple of juniors who are dating freshmen. But not two guys, of course.

Of course. He looks up from his pre-calculus homework and Justin is saying, "Fiery explosions are cool!" Lance smiles and pushes his hips against the bed a little. Just a little. Sort of humps the bed. There's a reason he likes these tapes. It's a secret.

He's not some girl, he doesn't have stupid dreams. Sometimes, he lets his mind wander and he thinks, it would be cool. Maybe they'd meet somewhere. Attaché travels all over the country, maybe they'd run into each other. He bets Justin does a lot of stuff, commercials, maybe he's got a new show, too. And then they'd talk, but Lance usually skips over that. He thinks about the kissing. And maybe more. But he doesn't think about that too often.

He's done this one stupid thing. On his sixteenth birthday, five months ago, he had a party. But the next night he was watching a new episode in his room, one that he'd taped because he doesn't like people knowing he watches. So he was watching the new episode, and Lance had snuck this beer into his room from the night before. He decided to watch with beer in one hand, other hand occupied elsewhere if it was a really good one. He thought maybe that was gross. But Justin was even taller in these new episodes and he looked, just, older. More like fourteen maybe, not even twelve or however old he was. So it wasn't so bad.

And then they'd flashed the address to write. Lance wrote it down and maybe he was a little tipsy on that one beer and only picking at his dinner, and he wrote a letter. He wanted his own picture. He'd looked through teen magazines sometimes, he'd never buy one, but he never finds anything anyway. His own picture of Justin. He wasn't completely sloshed, he signed Stacy's name. He stole a stamp from his mom's purse and mailed it the next day. And he still hasn't gotten an answer. It was really stupid. But he's heard the show got cancelled so maybe he never will. Five months ago.

He gets home from school and this meeting he had and talking with this girl from his math class and his mom is standing there, looking surprised. She says, "Justin Timberlake's mom called."

Lance thinks, fuck, is this about the letter, do they think he's some scary whack job, did they find out some crazed boy from Mississippi is crushing hard on their baby and he swallows and says, "From the Mickey Mouse Club?"

His mom says, "She says, she says they have this music group. They need a boy to sing bass and Mr. Westbrook, remember him? He mentioned you." His mom blinks. "The Mickey Mouse Club? That kids show on Disney you used to like?"

Lance nods.

His mom says no. Lance wants to cry. And even after Lance begs and his dad says he thinks it would be okay, his mom still says no. Mr. Westbrook calls and then his mom gives in.

So when he meets Justin and the other guys it's not at all like he imagined it might be but it turns out okay. Really okay. Justin's taller and definitely fourteen and seems even older. And Lance's mom gives in completely and Lance is part of NSYNC.

He has two hours to pack his room. He grabs the important things and then he looks at the tapes under his bed. Okay, he doesn't really need those anymore. The show was actually over a year ago. Mrs. Harless probably has all of them, anyway. Not that he can ever really watch them again. He rubs his forehead. They can stay a secret. So he leaves them under the bed and walks out to where his mom is packing books.

*

He's really tired and really busy and he doesn't put two and two together until 1 am when he's just gotten into bed. Then he thinks, fuck, and before he can think more he's already out of the bed, trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake up Chris. Then he's in the hallway, on the stairs and he bangs his knee but he just bites his hand so he doesn't make any noise and he's on the bottom floor before he even feels the pain.

At dinner, Lynn said she was gonna spend all day tomorrow entering in the addresses from the fan mail. A years' worth of fan mail they haven't even looked at. Not even opened. For Justin and JC. So, Lance thinks, fucking hell. Fucking hell. And then he's in the room Lynn uses as a workspace and he looks at the piles.

They'd know. It's only been a week but it's not like Lynn won't recognize the address. And fuck, Lance is already being tutored and Lynn looks at the papers and she'll recognize his handwriting. And it's to Justin and why would Stacy be writing someone so much younger than her? Not so much, but enough. And Lynn said she was gonna get the boys to help her and they'd know.

Lance sits down with the piles. All unopened. And one day to get everything in a database and then send out mailings. Come see the demo being filmed. Lance hasn't had time to breathe in a week and he maybe won't ever breathe again, but at least his secret is safe. Or will be.

He moves aside the book on using FoxPro and he's careful with the piles, can't make any noise. Can't wake up anyone. Can't, can't. He starts sorting, he doesn't care about the letters to JC. Everything is jumbled up, not even by date. Of course. He just sits down and gets to work.

It's been a week of real rehearsals and practicing and okay, the singing is good and the dancing will come, he's sure of that. And it's easier than he thought seeing Justin every day because he barely has time to study and do everything he needs to do and practice and remember his own name, much less worry about some silly crush. Except it really seems even less silly because now that he knows Justin a little. Justin's sweet and funny and intense and hotter at fourteen than he ever was at thirteen on that dumb show.

Lance hasn't even had time to think about things. Other things. Like, he used to be popular without any work and now he needs to be popular with a lot fewer people. It should be easier but everyone except Justin is older. Not like high school and all Lance had to do was be pleasant, sometimes funny.

And they all have secrets but not ones he understands, like at home. Not like the three girls he knew who suddenly got a little pudgy and then went to Gulfport, because everyone knows that's the only place in Mississippi any more for things like that. Or kids with parents getting divorced or the kids who came in to school with bruises they didn't explain. Lance just doesn't get the guys yet.

He looks down at his watch, 2:43 am and he has the letter. He rips it open, shreds the envelope in the trashcan by the desk. Then he moves around the garbage so the shreds of the envelope are at the bottom. He sits down and starts to read it, blushing and embarrassed at the way his crush bleeds out with every word.

Justin says, "What're you doing?" Lance looks up and Justin's there, in just his underwear, standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

Lance says, "What're you doing? Why are you up?"

Justin scrunches up his face and then rubs his eyes again. He has such big hands. Lance folds the letter up and puts in the pocket of his t-shirt. Lance covers his mouth, he's just in his boxers and a t-shirt and there's Justin.

Justin says, "I had a nightmare. And I couldn't, I didn't want to go back to bed. Then I saw the light. What was that letter? Were you reading my fan mail?"

Lance blinks. "It was from Stacy. Stacy wrote JC and she told me and when your mom said that thing about using the letters, I remembered that Stacy wanted me, she wanted me to make sure JC didn't find out. Because, you know, now she knows him. Or sort of. She asked me so I came down here to find it. And I did."

Justin grins. "Can I read it? Sometimes those things are really funny." Justin pauses. "I mean, of course, I love the fans and it's really important and stuff. Mostly it's just really sweet when they write, but you know, sometimes they are funny."

Lance frowns. "I promised Stacy. It's from my sister, Justin, it's not funny." Justin sits down and he hunches over. Justin's boxers aren't even underwear anymore, damn it, he shouldn't be wearing them. They're thin and they don't quite fit. And fuck, Lance looks. Justin shifts and Lance will never need to imagine what Justin looks like down there again. Lance squeezes his eyes shut.

Justin says, "Okay. Are you going back to bed now?" He brings his knees together and Lance says a silent prayer of thanks. Justin rubs his eyes again.

Lance sighs. "You had a bad nightmare?"

Justin nods. "I was running and there was a fire and it caught my mom and my daddy and it was just about to get me. It was really scary."

Justin stands up and Lance rubs his shoulder. He says, "Um, well, it didn't happen. You're okay now."

Justin reaches across and tries to pull the letter out of Lance's pocket. Lance grabs Justin's hand and puts his other hand over the pocket. He twists Justin's hand until Justin pulls away and says, "Okay, okay, God. I just wanted to read it."

"Justin," Lance stares at him. He tries the one thing he thinks might work, not that he knows Justin that well, but it would work on Lance and in some ways Lynn is like Lance's mom. "Justin, it's rude. You're being rude."

Justin looks down chastened, and Lance thinks, score. Lance pushes past Justin and keeps his hand over his pocket. Justin feels warm against him for just a second.

Lance makes it to the stairs and then he hears Justin sniffle. He looks back and Justin's sitting in front of the still bright room, hugging himself and rubbing his head against his knees. Lance closes his eyes and sees in negative Justin shifting his legs and his boxers falling away.

He thinks, so fucking gay and there, he's formed the words, even if only in his head. He quickly says, "You wanna help me put the office back in order? I don't want your mom to know."

Justin springs up and says, "Okay."

It takes them five minutes to put all the letters back in their piles and then Justin's smiling again. Lance says, "Nightmares are scary."

Justin nods. They walk out of the room and Justin flicks the light off. Lance says, "Don't tell anybody, okay? It's a secret."

Justin nods again. In the half-light leaking in from the street, Lance can see Justin's smile. Justin says, "A secret. Secrets are good."

Lance grins and doesn't know if Justin can see it. He says, "I think so, too, sometimes."

Justin hugs him suddenly and says, "Thanks for being cool." Lance isn't sure what he did, but he likes the hug. He pats his pocket to make sure the letter's still there, and it is.

He has to get up three hours later and before he goes downstairs, he reads over the letter again. So obviously his handwriting, and he sounds so dorky. He doesn't destroy the letter, he's not sure why, but he puts in the bottom of his desk, with his passport and his birth certificate and letters from his parents.

*

Justin's tipsy at least because part of Joey's birthday gift was to sneak Justin two beers behind Lynn's back. Justin leans over and says, "I'm having a good fifteenth birthday, man."

Lance pats Justin's knee and says, "Good."

Joey, Chris and JC are heading out to drink even more. It's weird to Lance, even now, after four months, how much younger he feels here as opposed to home. At home he always knew where the cool parties were, and now he only knows the people in the house and the people they see for work. JC, Joey and Chris, they all have friends and Joey got JC a great fake ID. So, Lance is still only sixteen, Justin's only fifteen and they end up with the house to themselves because Lynn heads out with Paul. And then there they are, still on the couch.

Justin rubs Lance's knee and says, "So it's just us, and I wanted to say, I know a secret."

"A seeeeeeecret," Lance says, grinning.

"A seeeeeeecret." Justin leans over and whispers in Lance's ear. "I know you wrote me a fan letter. You like me."

Lance pushes Justin and shuffles over on the couch. "What are you talking about?"

"I read that letter. The one you said was from Stacy. It was wrong, I know, but I was looking for something and I saw that letter you said was for JC except it was for me. And you wrote it." Justin grins and reaches for Lance again.

Lance stands up and backs away from the couch. "You were looking at my stuff? That's so fucking uncool. And it was from Stacy. Stacy wrote the fucking letter."

Justin blinks and his mouth hangs open. "You're mad."

Lance says, "Of course I'm fucking mad. God, you're poking around in my private things, you think, you think I wrote that letter and Stacy wrote it, okay? Of course I'm mad. God."

Justin licks his lips. "Oh. But I'm not, I'm not mad."

"I didn't break into your fucking room and read your private things and make, like, false assumptions about them." Lance stops backing up and stands still, ten feet from Justin.

"Okay. Okay. I shouldn't've. But, Lance, come on. It's your handwriting. And why would Stacy be writing me? I was, like, twelve."

"Why would I, why would I be writing you? I." Lance can't quite force the words out. He needs to lie. "Stacy wrote it."

Justin frowns. "Okay, seriously, I don't care. I mean, I care. But I'm not, like, upset. I'm glad about it."

"You're glad you broke into my room and rooted around in my private stuff?"

Justin stands up. "Okay, okay. Here's the thing. You're mad. Because I was looking at your stuff and your stuff is private and secret. I don't want you mad at me. Let me make up to you." Justin walks up to Lance and grabs his hand. Before Lance can shake him off, Justin drags Lance to the door to the basement.

Lance says, "Justin, what the fuck?"

Justin opens the door and pulls Lance down the stairs. "I'm gonna show you a secret of mine so we're even. And you won't be mad."

Lance glares at Justin's back and his sweaty big hand pulling Lance down the steps. Justin weaves and it's only narrow stairs and Lance wonders how much beer Joey really did slip Justin.

Justin pulls him towards a small room where Lance knows Lynn and Justin have their stuff. The things they couldn't leave back in Memphis. Chris has a space marked out in the corner where the records that don't fit in his room are stored. JC doesn't have much more than two boxes labeled "JOSH-private." Justin opens the door and tugs Lance in.

Justin turns on the overhead light and pulls a sheet off of a trophy. It's a big trophy, really big, with three sashes hanging on it. "It's a trophy," Lance says. "A really big trophy."

"It was taller 'n me when I won it." Justin has a small smile on his face. He looks down at his feet. "I won it."

Lance looks at the inscription. The light sucks and he can't read it. "What did you win this for?"

Justin shrugs. "Well, that's kinda the secret part. I think, you know, the other guys would make fun of me. I'm proud of it, man, but."

Lance stares at Justin. He's blushing.

Finally, Justin says, "It was a pageant. When I was, like, ten or eleven."

Lance nods. "Okay. How is that embarrassing? My cousin enters both of her kids in those things, you know, the boys' part and the girls' part and they've never won, but."

Justin presses his lips together. "There weren't any other boys. Just me. And there hadn't ever been. Or, I think, since. But." Justin pauses. "Look, it was really good for me and I got to compete and stuff and there were judges and it was great for preparation and I won money. Like, over five thousand dollars."

Lance strokes the trophy. It's really big. "You competed in a girls' beauty pageant? And you won?"

Justin scuffs his feet against the floor. He reaches out and touches the trophy. "Yes. I did. It was a good thing and I won and I got money and experience. But, you know, the other guys. They would make fun. And my mom has this video, it would be kinda embarrassing."

Lance laughs. "There's video? Oh, god, can I see it?"

Justin frowns. "No. You can't. This is a secret because, man, I'd never hear the end of it. It's to make up, you know, because you're mad at me and I don't want that."

Lance says, "It's a nice trophy."

Justin grins and sits down on the floor. Lance notices the lack of dust in the room and remembers the clear path to the door. He says, "You come down here sometimes?"

Justin nods. He says, "Yeah. It's, you know, it's hard. We work so hard and this is something I won, I like to remember that things go right and I can do it. We can do it. We're gonna do it." He looks up and smiles. "You still mad at me?"

Lance sits down next to Justin. He says, "No, I'm mad, but mostly I'm kinda laughing at you."

Justin grimaces. "Okay, I'll take that."

Lance looks at the trophy for a while. He says, "Was it taller than you when you won it?"

Justin says, "Yeah."

Lance leans over and pushes Justin shoulder. "You had a good birthday?"

Justin says, "Yeah," and moves so fast Lance doesn't even really see it. He blinks and then he has a lapful of Justin. Warm pretty Justin sitting in his lap, arms around his neck.

Lance says, "Justin, get off me."

Justin says, "No. Now you're not mad at me and I wanna say. I'm not upset or anything that you liked me. You like me. And it's good. I was, I kinda thought maybe I was the only one in the group like that. Except maybe JC, but. Anyway, it's even better that it's you, you know?"

Lance says, "I don't. Justin, Stacy wrote that letter."

Justin frowns. "Okay, I need you to stop being stupid." Justin shakes his head. "I'm not getting through to you at all." Lance opens his mouth to protest but then Justin's kissing him. Kissing. Mouth open and kissing. Lance holds on tight, Justin's waist in his hands and Justin is kissing him. Better than he ever thought, really.

Justin moves back a little and says, "Did you get that?"

Lance nods. He says, "So you're saying."

"I'm saying. You dork." Then they're kissing again, and they kiss for a long time. Lance is so hot, he feels the sweat on his neck and he won't let go of Justin ever. Justin pushes against him and Lance squeezes and kisses back.

Lance says, "We should. I don't want to hurt your trophy. And it's right behind you."

Justin nods and stands up carefully. He throws the sheet over the trophy again, gives the thing one last caress through the linen and pulls Lance to his feet. Justin kisses Lance again. Then he says, "How 'bout my room? Cause, you know. We can't tell anyone. I mean, maybe the guys, but never Lou. And your mom, I guess. Will she be mad?"

Lance shakes his head. "Not my mom, she won't be mad. I think she knows, um, not about you but in general. But, yeah, Lou. It's a secret."

Justin grins and they run up the stairs. In the living room, Justin says, "This is the bestest birthday gift ever."

Lance says, "I got you a gift." He did. He went with his mother to the mall and looked for something that said "happy birthday" and not "after four months I still want you even though you're really young but I'd like to do a lot of things with you." He bought Justin a baby blue t-shirt with cartoon panels on the chest. "A ringer tee" the clerk called it, with a red ring around the neck and the ends of the sleeves.

Justin grins and they're in his room. He closes the door and sits on the bed. "I liked it, I did. It's great. But, I like this even more." He pulls Lance on top of him and they're kissing again. Again. Kissing. Lance can't even think.

Justin rolls over and says, "Just, right, secret? Just for now. Okay?"

Lance smiles. "Okay. I like secrets. It's good."

THE END.

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