NOTES AND DISCLAIMERS: So made up, for entertainment only. Entertaining lies about famous people I don't know from Adam. A sideways inspiration from Cry Me A River, the one by JRT, and Mr. Adams of NRBQ. Free Man In Paris is a song by Joni Mitchell about David Geffen. Middlemarch is by George Eliot. Chris sings "Surprise" by the Sundays. Songs quoted are "Perfect From The Start" by Jeremy Toback, "Near Wild Heaven" by REM, "Get You In" by Better Than Ezra and "Easy People" by the Nields, respectively. Thanks to G, Younger and Katie for their help in the first draft writing. Thanks to Katie, Kel, Younger and Missy for very very helpful betas.

3. IN

Why can't I be your lover?
Can there be another?
And when I feel without I want to get you in. - Kevin Griffin

Justin waits for Chris in Heathrow and thinks about cat's cradle. He's never played that game, he thinks, or maybe only once. String combinations over and over again, he remembers that from school. Girls playing it, Justin never did. He's trying to remember if he ever knew how, just from watching, when Chris plops down next to him. "What you thinking, boy?"

"I was thinking about cat's cradle."

"Wanna play while we wait for our flight?"

"You'd have to teach me."

Chris grabs a spare pair of shoelaces from his bag for his new sneakers and complains about how they're not exactly right but he teaches Justin, while they wait and on the flight. Chris starts swearing after about an hour that he's going to go online to get more advanced levels. "This isn't the most stimulating game in the world, you know."

"I like it," Justin says.

From the plane to the first resort and golf course on their itinerary is only two hours. They don't start at St. Andrews. "I figured we'd build up to it. You know?"

Chris nods. "It's a good plan." They're doing a week each at the most famous courses, staying in the best hotels. Justin just booked one room at each place, two beds. It would be sort of pointless since they would just end up hanging out with each other anyway. Justin knows how it will be, him and Chris.

They just sleep the first night. Then they play golf on one of the finest courses Justin's ever seen, with a caddy who looks at Chris like he's Satan. Justin thinks it's because Chris has a really godawful swing. For dinner, Chris suggest haggis and Justin tells him that will not be happening. "I don't need to live the skit, man."

They drink, at the bar and in their room. They're lying next to each other on Justin's bed and Chris is absently drawing an x over and over again on Justin's stomach. It tickles. Chris says, "But, you know, I am over him."

"What were we talking about?"

"Um, hockey. You were nodding in appropriate places as I told you about how I got asked to do that thing on the history of hockey for ESPN."

"Man, you so should. None of the Ken Burns deep voice shit. Be like pow! POW!" Justin pumps his fist.

"And then I said, I am over him. Changing the subject."

"You think you are?" Justin leans forward a little and watches the precision of Chris's finger, one stroke, two, then back again to make the x.

"I know so."

"That's good. That's really good, man." Chris sits up and gets in his bed. "We're sleeping now?"

"Yeah, man, we got golf tomorrow!"

*

Justin's surprised how healthy Chris is. Not that Chris is some kind of always sick person, but he remembers Chris complaining about his knees a lot. Wearing braces, wincing at them. He doesn't anymore. Chris even jogs the second morning, and the fourth. He has these really cool custom-made sneakers. Justin knows Chris has been on this exercising, living right kick for the last three, four years but he's just surprised.

The fourth night they drink again. Chris drags Justin back to the room and they're laughing about something, laughing so hard that Chris falls over and pulls Justin down. Chris runs his hand over Justin's curls. "Haircut, you should get a haircut."

"Don' wanna," Justin says. Justin twists and shifts and somehow he and Chris are face to face, Justin half lying on top of Chris. "Just don' wanna."

Chris's hand is in Justin's hair and they're just right there, Justin isn't even sure when they started kissing, how he ends up pressing Chris down. They don't seem to stop either, and somehow end up getting each other naked, in Justin's bed. They stop long enough for Chris to say, "And you know what happens now."

It happens. It's good, it's slow for all that they're both drunk and tired. But it's slow and teasing and really good. They don't say anything when it's over and Justin's asleep two minutes after kissing Chris good night.

Justin wakes up and his head hurts. "Holy fuck, so glad we're not playing today."

Chris nudges him, and says, "Yeah." He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. Justin wonders if he should think about this, about last night. He wanted this, he knows, when he was fourteen, fifteen and less over the years. But in the back of his head, pretty much always. And now, now there's no one in the way, no Lance, no Brit, no nothing. So it's a big thing. But, mostly he wants to go back to sleep so he does.

*

Chris is in the shower when Lance calls. "Okay, your weekly update," Lance says instead of hello.

Justin thinks about a witty remark or something, but his head is pounding. "Fire away."

"Album's still selling, Jive is making happy noises. Make sure you check your email once in a while, I have things for you to sign." Lance pauses. "Okay, with that done, hi, how are you? How's the vacation?"

"It's good. It's fabulous. The course is amazing and we're not even at St. Andrews."

"Yes, yes, golf things. I don't care. I mean, it sounds great." Lance laughs.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. We're alive and kicking. Mostly." Justin wishes for an aspirin. Maybe the size of a golf ball.

"Hungover or sick?"

"Hungover." Lance laughs, bastard. Justin says, "Fuck you."

Lance laughs again and says goodbye. Justin lies back on the bed. The shower turns off and Chris comes out, settles in next to Justin. Chris is drying off and dripping all over Justin. "Who was that on the phone?"

"You're over him."

"Ah. Cool." Chris drops his towel on Justin's stomach. "Are we gonna talk about last night or just keep doing it?"

"What do you wanna do?"

Chris shrugs. "I vote we show, not tell."

*

So they're sleeping together every night now. First course done, onto the next one. They're gorgeous, green and endless, but not manicured and fake. Vistas like Justin can't believe. And they play and talk and it's pretty wonderful.

Justin sits on the bed and checks his email. Three from Lance and he skims them, blah, blah, business. He signs off on them and goes straight to the new pictures of JJ and Jillian and Briahna. Trace's wife is pregnant again. Justin can't believe someone he grew up with is going to have three kids. He's only twenty-seven.

Chris comes in with the food and sits down next to Justin. "Hey, red-hot lover."

Justin grins. "Hey, you. What'cha get me, boyfriend?"

"Oooooooooh, boyfriend. You're presuming a lot." Chris takes a bite out of his sandwich.

"Am I?" Justin starts eating his fries.

"What happened to not talking?"

Justin eats for a few minutes. He doesn't really like not talking. "I think, okay, we got a good thing here. And so far, these two weeks of, you know, red hot loving, this is great. But, uh, then what?"

"Then what what? Maybe, you know, we just let this happen."

"Then, don't tell me I'm presuming." Justin takes a large bite of his sandwich.

"Two weeks don't make anyone a boyfriend."

"What do they make me?" Justin puts his sandwich down. He's always been in some sort of love with Chris; he doesn't want to fuck things up. He thinks about what Howie said, about things being as they are.

Chris leans in. He has a little bit of mayonnaise in his beard. And one stray gray hair, right by his temple. He's so fucking hot to Justin. Chris kisses Justin and says, "You're Justin."

*

So things trundle along. Two more courses, two more weeks. One month together, whatever together is. Justin thinks together is good, and together right now is more than they had before. So it's important. Justin is pretty sure the Lance thing was just a neurosis, because he hasn't even thought about it more than twice since he and Chris started. Maybe he's thought about it more than twice, but Chris is the one right in front of him, Chris is better for him than some thing with Lance. So Justin tries not to think about it. It's just a little funny, because maybe they're both not thinking about Lance. Justin wakes up to Chris rubbing his thigh and Justin says, "How're your knees?"

"Spiffy. Spiffy."

"With all the wet weather and shit?"

"My knees rock." Chris grins. "Let's fuck."

It's another day of golf and it rains in the afternoon. Justin thinks about toughing it out or something but Chris says, "Fuck that. I'm thirty-seven. I can wait for another goddamn day."

By the time they have dinner, Chris is just pissy. He's banging around, and they have a pretty small room this time. "Hey, can you chill?"

"Chill? Am I disturbing you?"

"Pretty clearly, yes. God, fucking chill. You're just banging around."

"Ooooooh, noise too much for you?"

"Yes, god, yes. Sit down and be quiet, damn it. You're fucking annoying." Strangling Chris seems like a good option, but Justin decides to just stamp around himself. "It's like this, bang bang bang. I mean, do you need more of a demonstration? I can do it right next to your ear if you want. Which one is the good one?" Justin rolls his eyes.

"Whatever." Chris flops on the bed. "Gimme a break."

It gets worse after that. Sometime after Chris throws his shoe at the wall and calls Justin a prick, the actual argument starts. Chris says, "You, you're so full of yourself. You're like incapable of thinking you could possibly be wrong."

Justin shouts, "I know very well when I'm wrong and it's not now. You're full of shit. You can't just sit down and be quiet and you have to make everything a big argument because you're just fucking bored."

"Is that why? Maybe you're being all whiny and you bitched me out for just making a little noise. Because everything has to be so perfect for you all the time."

Justin sits down on the bed. "Shut up."

"Why? Am I bothering you?"

"Yes." Justin doesn't understand, he doesn't get how all this went from Chris being pissy to this argument. He's argued with Chris before; they had their first fight three hours after they first met. But this one feels like a whirlwind. He says, "I think we need to calm down."

Chris says "We?" He stomps into the bathroom and slams the door. Justin strips and just goes to sleep.

He wakes up and Chris is next to him, one arm around his waist. Justin holds Chris's wrist and starts to move Chris's arm when Chris says, "You awake?"

"Mostly."

"Okay." Justin lets go and Chris rolls over. Justin gets up, goes to the bathroom, thinks about showering. They have a tee time in four hours. They have two weeks left in Scotland.

When Justin comes out of the bathroom, he stands over the bed. "Here's what I'm thinking --"

"Yeah?" Chris opens his eyes.

"I'm thinking, let's just make this is a vacation thing. Let's not try for anything else."

"You're not so good with the fighting, are you?" Chris sounds resigned.

"I dunno. Maybe I am, I just. We always fight, but you know, it isn't always so fucking pitched. We were like screaming at each other for an hour. So, apparently we add in sex and we get all psycho. Like, I don't like me being like that." Justin lies on top of the blanket and plays with Chris's hair.

"So just a vacation thing." Chris shifts and kisses Justin's hand. "Wanna chalk it up to timing? I got horrible timing."

"You don't have great timing." Justin leans in and rubs Chris's neck.

"Like, me and Lance? Totally would have worked out if we'd waited, I think. You know? Not started when the group was going to shit. But we started out off-kilter."

Justin nods. They kiss, sweet and tender for once. "Off-kilter. I don't know when we should have done this. But yeah, not now. I'm still gonna count you as my ex, okay? You can be the one that didn't cheat on me."

"So far as you know." Chris grins and Justin bites Chris's lip.

*

It's a great two weeks. They still have sex. Pretty much some of the best sex Justin has ever had. Chris has absolutely convinced Justin that his knees are perfectly fine now. But they both know they won't be doing this again. And it's still great. He tells his mother almost everything and she has a thousand questions. Justin just says he doesn't want to talk more about it. She's quiet for a minute and Justin says, "It's not, I just, I don't need to analyze it more."

He worries she's offended but she just changes the subject and moves on to asking about Scotland and golf.

Before Justin even realizes they're back in Heathrow. "I'm gonna stay," Chris says. "Just a few days. But I like London. You know, a break before I do the hockey thing. Really throw myself into it."

Justin nods. "'Kay man, I'll see you soon, though." Justin hugs Chris and one extra squeeze.

Chris says, "I was wrong, you know."

"Bout what? That you could make par on St. Andrews? Cause you proved that one pretty wrong. You sucked."

Chris doesn't smile. "When I said you were a little boy. That was wrong. You know, untrue."

Justin says, "I know. You just said it to hurt me. I mean, it worked. But I know that. I knew it. Also, that part where I called you a fucking little pisser who always plays at being bitter so you don't have to develop a real personality, you know, that was wrong and intentionally hurtful."

Chris grins. "I wasn't wrong about you being a cocky little shit, though." He slaps Justin's shoulder and says, "Get on your plane. See you soon."

"Guaranteed." Justin doesn't look back.

*

"So, JJ's a little small, but when they calculate by his gestational age, you know, if he had been born when he was due, he's actually ahead of the curve. They think he's gonna be real tall. And he's got this enormous head. So that means he'll be smart. Which is all his mom, frankly." Joey laughs and signals to the driver. "You hungry or you wanna go straight back to the apartment?"

Justin says, "You got food there?"

"Yeah. And some of it's not strained but that's Briahna."

"Home."

Joey leans forward again. He says something to the driver and then sits back. "The movie people gave me this driver thing. It's really nice."

"Romantic lead, man, you deserve it." Justin leans back and closes his eyes. "I'm tired."

"Vacation wore you out?"

"Transcontinental flights wear me out." Justin leans against Joey's shoulder. "Tired."

Joey wakes him up when they get to the apartment and Justin plays with Briahna, coos over JJ and eats a sandwich before falling asleep in the guestroom.

In the morning, he tells Joey about Chris and Joey hmms in the right places. "Maybe it was all timing," Justin says.

"Well, you're smart then. Because, you know, didn't take two years and the complete destruction of your friendship to figure that out." Joey pours them both cups of coffee.

"I guess. It still kinda sucks." Justin drinks his coffee. "So, hey, movie time today, right?" Joey nods.

Justin spends three days just hanging out with Joey, going to the set, eating dinner with Joey, Kelly and the kids. The fourth day Kelly asks if he can stay home with the kids, just for a few hours, because she wants "time, even a few hours, and the nanny's off today." Justin agrees eagerly.

He's good with babies so he doesn't have any problems with JJ. When JJ goes to sleep, he and Briahna sprawl on the floor and play with her Barbies. Justin is trying to get a pink dress on Beach Vacation Barbie when Kelly comes back in. "So you're having fun?" She grins.

"I would be if I had slightly smaller fingers." Justin laughs. "I can't get this dress on."

*

It's more baby duty when he gets to LA. Jillian doesn't have either of her parents' cheekbones; she's got fat little cheeks. She has a little button of a mouth and a tiny nose and enormous eyes. "Seriously, enormous."

Julie raises an eyebrow. "It's not very nice to be insulting a baby in front of her mother. No, wait, it's very stupid."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. She's got huge eyes. It's really cute."

Julie says, "Good save."

JC's on a break, last album done, new one not yet fully formed in his head. He's thinking, though, tapping out beats while they eat and writing on napkins. They stay up late and talk about music and Jillian and Julie. JC and Justin go out once, dance for hours but when they get home JC laughs quietly and walks straight up to the nursery to check on Jillian. Justin kisses the baby's cheek while JC holds her and then goes to bed.

It's all good. Justin likes getting the kind of things you get from being right there with your friends, the names of the people who cut their hair, the TV shows they watch but don't admit to. Joey's gained a little weight, but not as much as he thinks and he drinks a lot of skim milk. JC has a new car and he wants to trade it in already. It's all the little things. Justin misses having them around so he's stocking up.

He spends two weeks at home with his mom, sees her garden and all the flowers. They have lunch with one of her friends from high school. "I just ran into her in the seed store. Would you believe, we have not talked since graduation." Justin's mom and her friend talk a lot about gardening and the friend's kids, who are all three in college and Justin nods. He doesn't have much to add. It's not boring or annoying, but it's not stimulating.

Trace's house is messy in that way houses get when you have two little kids running around and another on the way. Justin puts on the TV, sits Cherise on the couch and starts cleaning. He just can't take it. It itches at him, the tiny stain on the floor by the door, the smeared jam by the light switch. He bets Cherise tries, but she's eight months along. Trace isn't making enough yet for a maid service. Maybe Justin will get him one for Christmas. It only takes about three hours for Justin to scrub and mop and sweep. Justin flops down next to Cherise and grins. "There you go."

"You should go on vacation more often." She smiles and changes the channel to Julie's soap opera. "I bet you got all this excess energy all bottled up in you."

Justin shrugs. "A little. But it's all gone now."

Trace comes home and says, "Holy fuck, Cherise, you shouldn't be doing all this work, you're due soon."

Justin says, "She didn't."

Trace laughs. "Man, you didn't have to." Trace covers his mouth. "I take it back, I bet you did. Girls napping?" Cherise nods. "Okay, man, turn off the soaps, let's play some Halo."

Justin says, "Man, it's Alexis and Cameron! Wait up a few."

*

He leaves for Paris without seeing Lance. There's an email from JC reminding him that Lance's twenty-ninth birthday is only two weeks away. Justin hasn't bought him a gift.

He calls Lance his first night in his apartment in Paris. "Hey, you."

"You've been checking your email and that's fantastic."

"Oh, yeah. The things about that TV show? Yeah. I replied." Justin stands on his balcony. He always asks for balconies.

"I know you did," Lance says. "I was thanking you for that. Hey, guess what I did?"

"Grew a beard?"

"Ewww, no, I'd look awful. I tried once, you know. No, no, no. Actually, it wasn't that exciting. I don't feel like telling you."

"You suck," Justin sits down on the floor of the balcony. "I'm in Paris, I'm sitting on my pretty balcony and you won't tell me some exciting news."

Lance laughs. "It's not that exciting. Also, Howie and I broke ten million. In income and stuff. Not actually income, but it's too complicated to explain. Trust me."

"You and Howie be rich! Congratulations, that rocks." Justin laughs. "Okay, I'm safe and sound here, man. Just wanted you to know."

"Yeah, I knew. But thank you. I mean, I heard from the rental people."

"You're tricky. I gotta go." Justin says goodbye and sits on his balcony for another hour, just watching the city underneath him.

He loves being alone. He wasn't sure he would. But it's incredible. He doesn't talk to anyone, really. He orders his breakfast from a waiter in a café by his apartment every morning; he says "bonjour" to the doorman. Otherwise he just is. He thought it would be lonely. He doesn't feel lonely at all.

He writes a little, bits and pieces. He spends two hours a day playing guitar like some demented college student, he thinks. But it's good for him, even if he is just dorking around.

He thinks about Chris. He calls him, they exchange voicemail and two brief conversations. Everything's totally okay, Justin can tell. He thinks about Lance and neurosis. Dependency. He's so independent here, and he still misses Lance. He wonders what book Lance is reading now. He wonders if Howie made a move on Lance or something and he decides not to wonder about that anymore.

Time gets away from him and he realizes Lance's birthday is all of one day away. He goes down to the shops, maybe a hundred shops but he can't find anything. He has gifts, he's bought lots of gifts, but a birthday present is impossible. Everything he picks up seems too personal, something like, "oh, how I want you" or a boyfriend gift or something. Or too impersonal. Justin knows more about Lance than just his size in shirts. He doesn't want to just get a book or just get some vague gift thing like cologne. Justin knows exactly what Lance smells like.

He doesn't buy anything. He calls Lance at midnight Lance's time and says, "Happy birthday!"

"Hey, you. How are you?"

"I'm good. Writing and stuff and it's all pretty. It's Paris."

Lance laughs. He's slurring a little, he must be drinking. "You're a free man in Paris." Lance says, "Do you know that song?"

"Nope. Who is it?"

"Joni Mitchell. My mom likes it. Anyway, so yes, it's my birthday!"

"It is. How's twenty-nine?"

"I think this is gonna be only the first time I do this, you know. I don't wanna be thirty." Justin hears voices behind Lance, people laughing, someone singing.

Justin says, "Who you got there? Anyone I know?"

"Nope. I'll see everybody tomorrow. I mean, today. Not everybody, but I'm in LA, and Joey's here and JC so, those two. And the kids. No one else you knooo-oow," Lance sings.

Justin says, "I'll let you go. You party hard, man."

"Shit, you know it. Bye, man. Thanks for calling." Lance makes kissy sounds and Justin says goodbye.

He has to go home in a week. He has songs and he has things in his head. He has ideas. He likes Paris, likes walking alone. He starts reading some of the books he's bought. Mostly for Lance. He couldn't find a birthday gift, but he's got fifteen other presents scattered around the condo. He makes it through the first book, some short thing with twisty language and Justin puts it down every few pages to just think.

He writes in the margins, because that always works for Lance. The first thing he writes is "neurosis or love?"

More of the book, of decisions and labyrinths. Justin has to pause to look words up in the dictionary he bought for Lance. He thinks about being fifteen and studying next to Lance, thinks about Chris when he was twenty-five. Neurosis or love, that's a question for the ages, for twisty books. The book doesn't have much of an answer so far.

The next thing he writes, ten pages later, is "does it matter?"

He packs and goes to the airport early. He books a flight from New York to the closest he can get to Jackson, Mississippi.

*

Lance is sitting on the front porch of his parents' house when Justin pulls up. Lance's house looked empty, so Justin came here. He jumps out of his rental car and almost runs up. Lance barely grins. He's reading, earnestly, to Stacey's little girl, who's perched on his lap. Justin puts his bags down and sits down next to Lance, reads over his shoulder. When Lance gets to the end, he kisses her head and lifts her up, sets her down. "Take this into your mama, baby." She clutches the book to her chest and smiles. She runs inside.

Justin says, "Hi."

Lance turns and hugs Justin close. He smells so good. Lance says, "Where's my birthday present?"

Justin shakes his head. "Dude, I got presents galore. I got presents for your parents and Stacey and Ford and everything."

"And my birthday present?" Lance raises an eyebrow. Justin rolls his eyes.

Lance grabs one of his bags and they go inside. Jim and Diane are thrilled to see him, and they all sit down for a big dinner. It's delicious and Justin says so, over and over again. After dinner, Lance says, "Okay, let me take you to your room. You are staying here a bit, right?"

Justin nods. The two of them carry the bags to a room over in the side wing. Lance says, "This is my wing." Lance has been home for a while now, because he says "maaaah" instead of my.

"Your wing?"

Lance says, "Oh, I'm thinking of selling that other house. I like it, but, you know, I don't need so many houses."

"You own a lot of land, man."

"Well, I do. But all that land's got condos and apartments on it. I just, you know, this house is huge. So I was staying over more and more and we talked about it, me and my folks, and so I'm just gonna move in. For when I'm here." Lance opens a door and waves Justin in. "Your room."

"I'll only be here a few days. I gotta go home, you know, things like that. But I really missed you."

Lance throws a bottle of Jim Beam on the bed. "There's your present. Open it up and give me my gifts."

"Selfish."

Lance sings, "You can call me selfish but all I want is my presents," while Justin gets the stuff out of his big bag.

"Okay, shut up. First, I got you this in Scotland, it's a t-shirt."

Lance laughs and leans over to open the Jim Beam. He takes a little sip and then a longer one. He says, "You didn't wrap 'em or anything. Is one of these specifically my birthday present?"

Justin says, "They're all for you. And I didn't get anything wrapped. You saw when I gave those things to your parents and Stacey, man. I'm not a wrapping kind of guy." Justin grabs ten paperbacks. "I bought these, like, everywhere. Everywhere I was. I was kinda random about picking the books, but I guessed you'd like them. Let me know if you have any."

Lance grins and passes the bottle to Justin. He looks over each book and then says, "Nope. Good choices, man, they look interesting." Lance pushes up his glasses. "This is my birthday present?"

"They're all your birthday present, man."

Lance sighs. Justin says, "Okay, one more. I got you this in Paris." He hands over a deep green shirt. "Couture, man. Or, you know, what the salesman said."

"Oh, that's awesome." Lance smiles. "It's awesome." He holds it up and his eyes are almost sparkling. Justin takes a drink of the Jim Beam and sits next to Lance on the bed.

"You really like it?"

Lance nods. They both drink and Lance talks about real estate and Howie's new boyfriend and Lance's niece. Justin talks about Paris a little and Scotland even less. After thirty minutes, Justin puts the Jim Beam on the floor, and he notices it's half gone. They're both lying on the bed and Justin rolls over and smiles at Lance. Lance says, "You look good. You know that, right? All rested and pretty."

Justin smirks. "I do believe I agree with you. And you, you look nice as well."

Lance makes his considering face. "You didn't get me a birthday present, did you?"

Justin giggles and shifts closer to Lance. He says, "God, what do you want for your birthday?"

"Belated." Justin ducks his head and puts his hand on Lance's waist. Lance says again, "Belated. Maybe I want you for my birthday."

Justin leans his head back and smirks. "That's something I can do."

Lance says, "Yeah?" It's impossibly sexy, hot and goes straight to Justin's dick. Justin licks his lips.

He starts to say, "What do you want," but then Lance is pressed against him and they're kissing. Kissing. Lance licks Justin's neck and tugs at his shirt.

Lance says, "I think, for my birthday, you naked."

Justin slips back and pulls off his shirt. His pants come right off and he's slowly pulling down his underwear as he says, "You should be naked, too. To make this even better."

Lance nods, his eyes heavy-lidded. "You first. I think, um, right now, I'll just --" Lance reaches down and undoes his pants, pulls out his dick. He laughs. "Come on over here, let's re-enact my seventeen year old fantasies." He laughs again and looks down, blushing.

"When I was fifteen?" Justin smirks and crawls over. He rubs Lance's dick, lightly, and Lance shudders. "Perv."

"Oh, come on. I was seventeen, you were fifteen. It's not like I held onto that fantasy and only hit on fifteen year olds." Lance bites his lip as Justin's grip tightens. Justin wants and wants and just looks up at Lance.

He says, "Yeah" and then starts using his mouth for other things. He never quite got around to having fantasies about Lance so this is even better, without expectations or a script that doesn't quite work out. So it's just Lance's hand in Justin's hair, Lance's dick in Justin's mouth and it's just as good as it can be.

Lance pushes him off and says, "I know what I want, I know what I want." He makes it a little chant out of it, repeating "what I want, what I want." He sheds his pants and pushes Justin down on his stomach. "You're okay with this, right?"

Justin says, "God, yes. Yes, yes." Justin looks over his shoulder and licks his lips. "Come on."

Justin buries his face in the pillow, smiles, arches his back. Lance hums while his fingers push and push. Justin doesn't hum, he just grunts and moans and figures that's music enough. It's about all he's capable of. He feels Lance, wet against his ass, he shifts back and back and then Lance stops humming.

It's still music inside Justin, in his head and body. Hard, nasty, dirty. Just perfect. Justin bites the pillow and claws at the sheets, while Lance bites at Justin's back, grasps Justin's hips and thrusts.

It's over too soon. It's fucking awesome, push and thrust, Justin panting and thinking he can feel Lance all the way up his spine. And again, and again and Lance grunts and swears. The hook and the bridge and then the fade-out for the music. Lance is heavy, little shudders and sighs. He says, "Sleepy sleep."

Justin turns and pulls Lance close to him. "Sleep," Justin says. He kisses Lance's cheek. "Happy birthday again."

"Hmmm. Definitely." Justin reaches over and turns off the light.

When he wakes up the room is bright. Justin covers his eyes. Lance says, from somewhere that is not snuggled up tight with Justin, "Are you awake?"

"Now I am."

"I just. Do you do that often? I mean, it's really a bad idea." Justin opens his eyes. Lance is dressed, pressed, neat. He's pacing back and forth in front of the bed, arms crossed.

"Sleep with you? What are we talking about?"

"We didn't use a condom, I meant that. I meant the whole stupid no condom thing." Lance glares.

"Um, wait, this is me who's, like, at fault? I mean, uh, weren't you the one who should've been wearing one?" Justin sits up and covers his eyes again. It's really bright.

"Yes, of course, and you're right, but. You should've said something. When were you last tested? Because I'm all clean, I was just, two weeks ago. So." Lance stops pacing and just looks. He looks pissed.

"I should've said something? Fuck, you're a buzzkill. God, I'm clean, too. I got tested before my vacation and you're fine. Shouldn't I be worried here?"

Lance says, "Buzzkill?"

"You are. Man, we had great sex. It was really nice. And now you're all, hey, Justin, you whorin' around much lately? You ever practice safe sex?" Justin frowns. "You're a downer."

Lance rolls his eyes. "I'm just concerned. I'm your manager, I don't wanna be covering up, you know, your wild, uh, things." Lance presses his lips together. Justin turns away and tries not to wince as much as he wants. "Okay, you're right. I'm being stupid. But you're clean, right?"

"Yes, yes. And I haven't had unsafe sex in, um, six years. Before last night. Okay?"

Lance sits down next to Justin. "Okay, sorry, I'm just a little freaked. You know?"

Justin leans over and kisses Lance, just once. "Freaked. Check. Freaked?"

"Just, you know. Anyway, I have to go, I have this thing with Stacey. So, thanks for the birthday present." Lance smirks and pats Justin's head. The door closes and he's gone. Justin flops back on the bed and tries to smother himself with a pillow. Suck-central.

*

Two more days in Mississippi and then he goes back to Memphis. He spends two weeks writing more and helping his mother plant flowers. She's trying to get a color theme going in one corner of the yard. He's following her directions about using the spade when she says, "Did you meet Lance's boyfriend?"

"His what?"

His mother stands up and looks down at her box of seeds and bulbs. He hasn't told her about Lance, not that way. It's weird, it's different, it's where he is right now. So she doesn't know and he didn't tell her about his visit to the Bass house. Not the sex part. So she just looks at the seeds and says, "His boyfriend. He started seeing this guy, Ivan? Diane doesn't like him, you can tell."

"Boyfriend? Lance didn't say he had a boyfriend. I mean, mom, I had sex with Lance when I was there and he really didn't say anything about it." Justin bites his lip. He didn't mean to say that. This is something he intends to work out without leaning on her.

She blinks and looks up from the seeds. "Oh. Was it, are you and Lance --"

"No. I mean, clearly, no." He's never said anything about Lance, that way. Not like he told her about Chris. In his head, the difference is clear. One happened, one is just a thing. Lance is more than a thing, but Justin doesn't like to think about it. And now he just doesn't feel like it. He says, "It was just once. That once. We were both a little drunk. It wasn't anything. I mean, clearly. He has a boyfriend? Diane doesn't like him?"

"Yeah." She sits down and hands him bulbs. "She doesn't say it, but you know her. She suddenly starts talking like she can't unclench her jaw." She grins. She starts talking like Diane, not opening her mouth and her accent altered. "Oh, Ivan is very nice. He's got a job and he's very discreet." She laughs. "She hates Ivan. I haven't met him, but I figure he's no Chris, so."

Justin says, "Lance wouldn't cheat, so they must not be that serious."

She shrugs. "Sure. Or, he did cheat, because it's you and who could resist you?" She smiles again and smears dirt on his nose. Justin stops and rubs until it's gone.

*

He meets with Lance a week later. They have lunch. Justin has been sort of been avoiding Lance since he heard about Ivan. Voicemail works. Lance sits down and says, "Okay, I'm in town for a week, and I have a thing after this, so we can only do an hour."

"You have a thing? Here in Memphis?" Lance looks down. Justin says, "Dude. Lifetime movie. You're living it. You have to see people you met during your community service. You made friends. You changed. You grew."

"It's not a Lifetime movie. I was forced to volunteer at the same center for six weeks, Justin, of course I actually met people." Lance almost smiles. He fiddles with his glasses and keeps staring at the menu.

"You're going to play cards with old people you met while you were doing your community service, aren't you? I bet you intentionally lose to them, and always pretend you can't count out your bets rights so you can give 'em money all subtle." Justin smiles.

"I'll have you know they beat me fair and square. Look, they're really good." Lance blushes. "It's not a Lifetime movie. I didn't learn anything. I didn't grow as a person. I met three very interesting people who I like to play cards with when I'm in Memphis."

Justin laughs. "Do you see them on Tuesdays? Is one of them named Morrie?"

"That was completely different. Have you even read that book?" The waiter comes over and they both order. Lance says, "Alison, Edward and Sam. That's their names."

"Well, then we better get crackin'. I have an appointment as well, of course. Basketball with Jonathon and Steven. And you, no missing card shark seniors."

Lance rolls his eyes. "They're very nice people. I mean, except for when they're playing cards. Then they're pure evil. But other than that." Lance snaps his napkin and puts it in his lap. "Let's talk work."

Justin leans forward. "I want, this time? No co-writing, no other producers. I think I can do it. I want to try."

Lance leans his head to one side and looks over Justin's shoulder, just thinking. He finally says, "Yeah. I bet you can. I can definitely sell that to Jive. So what do you need from me? We should put together a band. You know, work with the same people for all the songs. Maybe even do it here in Memphis."

Justin nods. "Yeah, absolutely." They talk more about it, through their salads and sandwiches. As Lance looks over the check, Justin says, "So, tell me about Ivan."

Lance raises his eyebrow. "Ivan."

"Your boyfriend." Lance doesn't look up. Justin says, "I heard he was your boyfriend."

"You sound, um, jealous."

"I'm not. I am, actually, pissed that you had sex with me and apparently have this boyfriend that you never mentioned to me." Justin taps his fingers on the table.

"We're not exclusive and it isn't really your business."

"How exactly does that work? Not my business? Your friend, your client, I don't get to hear about your business?" Justin glares.

"No, you don't. It's just, you know, it's not important. It's nothing." Lance still doesn't look up.

"Your mom, okay, someone who talks to my mom, said he was your boyfriend." Justin shoots for calm, thinks he ends up with petulant. Good enough.

Lance looks up. "He's probably my boyfriend these days. I haven't been seeing anyone else. But it's not serious. I mean, I don't tell you about everyone I fuck. I've never told you about everyone I fuck."

Justin knows he's hunching over and he knows it's stupid. It's not like he thought sleeping with Lance was some thing that made a difference. He understands their relationship. He just wants it to be different. Except now there's Ivan. And whoever else Lance hasn't ever bothered to tell him about. "I don't get that."

"Why, why should I tell you?" Lance stands up. "I have to go. I set a time."

"Okay, then." Justin stands up and walks out.

*

Lance calls him twice that day. Justin doesn't pick up. When he gets back from hanging out with his brothers, he sits in his room and looks at his poster of Penny Hardaway. He doesn't stay here long enough to update anything so his room is filled with things Justin loved when he was fourteen, fifteen. A few more things his mother added over the years. Justin writes more songs, finishes one in an hour.

He calls Lance after dinner. "Okay, we should talk."

Lance says, "Yes. This isn't, okay. When we were in a band together, pissyfits were fine, because, you know, we just had to work together with three other people to buffer us and now it's not that. It's you and me. And I can't just be angry, it probably violates my probation or something. Not, anyway. That's all over with. But. I should've said something. Certainly when we slept together."

"I agree with that," Justin says. "I dunno. I'm being pissy. It's not like I told you about every little thing I did on vacation. And I don't tell you about, you know, people I sleep with."

"Yes, you do. But that's work things. I need to know who you're sleeping with. I mean, were you, on vacation?"

Justin screws up his face and thinks. He's really not telling Lance about Chris. "Nothing you need to worry about. Seriously. I'm not just saying that. Just, nothing. And I'm not seeing anyone now. And I wanna know who you're fucking because you're my friend. So, let's not get distracted."

Lance doesn't say anything for a minute. Then he says, "Okay. I just, you know. It's weird, Justin. You know? Of course, we're friends, but then there's everything else. Ultimately, I work for you. Close enough to working for you and I think of a lot of things, I think of this as work. And I like to keep work," Lance sighs. "I don't know. I didn't tell you. I should have. Okay?"

"Okay. Sorry I snapped." Justin sighs. "So, tell me about Ivan."

*

"I hate Lance's boyfriend," Justin says. "Don't you wanna hear about that?"

Chris laughs. "Oh, sure. Fire away."

Justin looks around the studio and makes sure Lance isn't about to walk in. "Okay, he sucks. First off, he's like, imagine every stereotype of a gay man with money. That's Ivan. He loves that stupid gay show on HBO, talks about it's so much better than Queer As Folk or something, he loves dance music, he minces, he flames, he's such an ass. He doesn't like how I dress and he doesn't like how Lance dresses, for fuck's sake."

"Lance dresses stupid all the time." Chris almost laughs.

"Okay, but he's really condescending. He's very convinced that he knows everything and he's the hippest guy ever. And like, when he's kinda pissed with Lance? He starts calling him by his first name."

Chris says, "You mean he calls him James, or what?"

"No, nothing like that, he calls him hon, or sweetie, or dear or something. But then he's being all pissy and it's 'Lance, do you really think that's a good idea?' 'Lance, I don't agree with that.' So pissy." Justin shrugs. "I can't stand him."

"Well, why does he piss you off so much? He's Lance's problem."

"But he's around and I hate him."

Chris says, "Well, man, it's not your problem, really. Besides, it's not that serious. Sounds like rebound boy. Token boy."

"I like you better, man."

"Duh. I'm great. Anyone would be second-best compared to that." Chris pauses. "Can we talk about me now?"

"Yeah, fire away. Then we'll talk about me."

"We were talking about you. We were talking about your hatred of Lance's boyfriend. That's you. I think you just resent that Iiii-vaaaaaaaan is taking Lance's attention away from you." Chris sounds very serious, so Justin is sure he's joking.

"Do not."

"Do too. You're used to being all Lance thinks about and now he's back to considering his dick along with you."

"Do not. He's been thinking about his dick since he started working for me. Just now he's only doing it with one guy and I have to see him all the time."

Chris pauses. "Yeah, we're entering the part where I don't wanna talk about this. Okay?"

Justin says, "Yeah, sorry. So, you! Let's talk about you."

"Okay. So, I'm working on the documentary, as I've said to you, and it's going great. We're gonna do the first two parts first, should be done with those in about fifteen months. That's the budget and shit. And I'm seeing this guy. Nothing serious, but still. Thought I might mention that. Especially since you're the one without any significant other right now. Of any sort." Chris giggles.

"Hey, that's cool. Nothing serious, huh? When you gonna do serious again, man? You got a lot to offer."

"Well. I'm over my last serious thing. I mean, not you, I can never get over you. You're, like, impossible to get over. I have, like, conference calls with Britney and we talk about how great you are." Chris laughs. "But, you know, the other one."

"Let's say the name and prove you're over it." Justin looks up at the door but no one comes in.

"Lance. I'm over Lance. Completely."

"Cool. So now y'all will be friends again, right?" Justin sighs. "That would be rocking, you know."

"Over, not recovered, man. Also, you know, over him doesn't mean I like him. I don't."

Justin says, "Yeah, and now we're moving into my 'don't go there' territory. I'm glad you feel like you've put this behind you, but no dissing Lance. And for the record, I say the same thing to him."

Chris pauses. "Saying I don't like him isn't dissing him. Talking shit about what he's like in bed is dissing him. So, fine, then we've got our boundaries set. Anyway, I'm seeing this guy."

"Cool. Tell me more."

"Well, you know him. Nick, you know, Nick."

Justin blinks. The door opens this time and it's Lance. Justin says, "Nick Carter?"

Chris says, "Yeah. I was, uh, we went out a little before, um, you know. Right after me and Lance broke up. I mentioned him to you. Just, um, not by name. I guess, I ran into him and who else can you talk to about dating your bandmate even while your band is all falling apart? But then, you know, I wasn't over Lance, he called me a bitter bitter man. Anyway, I'm only a bitter man now and we're back. But better. Not like last time. I ran into him at some charity thing, which, you know, only place I can meet men, apparently. That doesn't freak you out, right?"

"God, no. Man, Nick and I weren't serious. I mean, we're friends now, but we were never that serious. It's not like you dating Brit." Justin pauses. He suddenly thinks maybe he should be careful here. There might be parallels someday. "It would be okay if you wanted to date Britney, of course."

"Well, I'll remember that." Chris makes a little snort. "Anyway, it's nothing serious."

"Okay, nothing serious. But Nick's good people."

"Yeah." Chris is quiet for a little while. "But you know, in retrospect, maybe I'm not so over, uh, you."

Justin doesn't push. "Well, Nick's good people."

*

The studio time hums. Every moment. Justin thought it would be hard, but it's easy. It's easy to do everything, to tell the engineer what he wants, to direct the band, to write everything from start to finish. He thinks about getting some other voices on the record, but decides against it. So it's just him. He even plays guitar on some of the tracks. He plays what he has for his mother and she ooohs and aaahs. It's only the second time he's been in the studio without her visiting more than twice and this time it feels normal.

He's in the home stretch. Lance smiles and says, "It sounds really good. I took those songs into Jive, they shit themselves. They always do. But they're really excited. And the whole all by yourself, all grown up angle, they like that a lot. It was really nice."

Lance rubs his neck and Justin doesn't look closer, doesn't want to see Ivan's little love marks. Justin sneers in his head. Justin is way hotter than Ivan. It's sick and wrong.

What's wrong is that Justin doesn't care about dependence, doesn't give a shit about any of the million things he can think of that are wrong about wanting to be with Lance, his manager, his friend, his band mate. All those things. He's too old for it anymore. He knows how important Lance is; he knows how rare it is for him, for Justin, to feel so strongly. He wants. And he's going to make this happen.

He looks up and says, "I have an idea."

"For promo?"

"Yeah. Exactly. I want to pose nude."

Lance sputters. "Excuse me? Like, in Playgirl? Naked? You want --"

"Not in Playgirl. Or Maxim or Details. Like, Vogue. Arty. No dick shots, but plenty of ass, stuff like that. I know a photographer, he does stuff for them. Arty. And more of that all grown up thing." Justin smiles and stretches.

He watches Lance stare at his stomach. Justin plays with his jeans and smiles again. Lance says, "You think?"

"I think it would be good. I want to do it. And it'll be news. Another push for the album." Justin stops flirting and turns back to the console. "I want to do it. What do you think?"

"I think." Lance pauses. "I think it's a good idea. Tell me your photographer's name. I'll get it done."

Justin nods.

"Seriously, no dick shots, Justin."

"You'll be there, you can make sure." Justin smiles and keeps his eyes on the console. He presses a button and listens to playback.

*

Lance rubs his forehead and takes off his glasses. If they were outside, he would light a cigarette. Justin knows all these mannerisms now. Three years of close observation. He doesn't always know why, but he isn't tired of watching. So he says, "Why are you all stress-y?"

"We're driving to this porn shoot and you're asking me why I'm stressed?"

"It's not a porn shoot. It's art. Yang's amazing. It's just, you know, me, naked, lounging around some nicely decorated rooms."

"Okay, it's stupid. The 'story,'" and Lance makes finger quotes and then puts his glasses back on. "This is about the rooms, right? It's a decorating story. You're, like, a prop. In a pictorial about cool things you can put in your bathroom. If you're fabulously wealthy." Lance sighs. "So it's really about you, naked and stuff. With pretty things behind you, and I believe you and I agree with you, it's great promo. And yes, Yang is fantastic --"

"You're gonna start frothing at the mouth. You need to stop. Why are you so nervous? We decided to do this."

"I worry." Lance taps Justin's wrist. It's an oddly intimate gesture. Lance touches Justin's head, his shoulders, sometimes his knees. Like those are the acceptable places to touch for manager, friend, band mate. Lance says, "I worry that you're not thinking this through."

"I think. Lance, I've been doing this more than half my life. I think I'm old enough to know when I'm skirting the whole career-ending decisions. And --"

"Okay," Lance says. "The things is, very few people make career ending decisions. They make bad decisions, one after the other. It's not just one, mostly. And I think, you know, you, you're very smart and you're incredibly talented. And I think, you, for you your mis-steps will be things of ego. So I just worry, I worry that this is about things like that."

"It's about," Justin says. He pauses. "It's about the body. Mine. It's about, when I was fifteen I had to take off my shirt and it was kind of gross. And then I was twenty-one I didn't think it was that gross, and I did it a lot. And now I'm twenty-seven, and it's mine. My body. I'm not afraid of it, I don't live off it, as much anyway, it's mine."

Lance sighs. "You finally feel comfortable in your skin? You sound like, I dunno, some starlet justifying posing for Playboy."

"I've always felt pretty comfortable in my skin, man. But now. Now, I don't care what people think. I just want to do it, and you know, you'll stop me if I think of bad things. That's your job." Justin smiles.

Lance frowns. Lance's hand circles Justin's wrist and then he taps the back of Justin's hand. "Okay. Just, just let me know if you don't wanna. If you change your mind."

"Oh, no way, man. I'm stoked. You just keep your eye on those shots so no dick shows. No dick, no balls. I don't want that weird airbrushing thing where it looks like I don't have any dick at all or a really small one. You know?"

Lance laughs. "Okay, okay."

Justin strips down to nothing behind the screen and puts on the thin yellow silk robe Yang left for him. He looks down and it's pretty see-through and then he laughs. He walks out and sits on the brocade couch. "Let's do it!"

They're doing two rooms a day, three day shoot. It's only Lance, Yang, Justin and Yang's assistant, some woman with a very short haircut. Justin wonders if she's a lesbian. Mostly because she barely looks at him.

Yang starts with a lot of ass shots. Justin lies on the couch, looks bored, pretends to be asleep, reads a book. The novelty of being naked wears off after a few minutes and mostly Justin's sort of cold. He looks over his shoulder at Lance and says, "How do I look?"

Lance presses his lips together and tugs at his pants. He says, "You look good. Pert little ass, skinny legs, nice back. I can see almost all of your tattoos. I almost wish I couldn't in some cases."

Justin sits up a little and turns. He's laughing and he can tell Yang is still shooting. "Did you just call my ass pert?"

"It's pert. It's even purty."

Justin rolls over all the way and covers his face while he laughs. "Purty?"

"Bring up your legs, man, it's pure porn now." Lance waves his hand. Justin does as he's told.

They're done for the day at four and Lance follows Justin behind the screen. Justin hangs up the robe and stretches. "Yes?" He smirks at Lance.

Lance makes that face of disdain again but Justin can see Lance is hard. Or his pants are cut really weird. Justin grins and pulls on his underwear, slowly. Lance says, "So everything was okay?"

"Yes, you were there. Can't wait for tomorrow. Man, the bathroom shots."

Lance rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

Justin bought a bunch of pornos. Lesbians, gay, groups. Lance has a date with Ivan, and Justin sneers as he thinks the name, so Justin watches his first batch of porn and jerks off. He figures he's not seventeen anymore and he can tire out his dick so he's not prone to excitement tomorrow. That would be embarrassing and make the shoot more difficult. He jerks off a few times, and mostly thinks about Lance.

Lance picks him up again in the morning and Justin says, "How's Ivan?" He tries to sound neutral.

"I know you hate him, Justin."

"That doesn't mean I don't care how he is." Justin looks down and doesn't laugh, barely. "I mean, you know, if he's feeling bad or something."

"You'll throw a party, yes, message received." Lance taps on the window. "We're here."

The morning is the dining room. After four hours, Lance calls in for lunch. He answers the door and doesn't let the delivery guy inside. Justin says, "My protector."

"Shut up and eat your Chinese." Lance briefly looks at Justin. "Maybe you could put on your robe or something."

"Eh, I don't care."

"I'm a little weirded out eating with you all naked." Lance plays with his chopsticks and then grabs the carton of mooshu pork. He turns in his chair so Justin is facing Lance's back. Lance says, "You feel all comfortable?"

"Well, everyone except for the assistant has seen me naked, you know?"

"She's seen you, Justin."

"I meant seen seen." Justin snags an eggroll.

"Oh." Lance pauses. He turns around and leans forward. He whispers, "Are you telling me you had sex with Yang?"

Justin opens his eyes wide and nods earnestly. "Yes, yes, I have. Just once, but yes."

Lance shakes his head. "Okay, then."

That afternoon is the bathroom. Which translates to a lot of getting in and out of the bathtub. Another four hours and Justin's just a prune by the end of it. When he steps out for the last time, Lance wraps a towel around him. "How are you?"

"Very very clean." Justin laughs and presses against Lance's side. "Now you're all wet."

"Oh, aren't you clever." Lance steps back and grabs another towel. He's just dabbing at his pants while Justin dries off and puts his clothes back on. Yang waves and starts packing up his things.

Justin says, "One more room tomorrow?"

"Eh." Yang shrugs. "I think this will be enough."

Lance says, "I want to see all the negatives. I don't want anything showing up on the internet before the press release and especially not any of the dick shots."

Yang does some weird shoulder roll that seems to indicate he understands. He says, "Yeah, one week."

Justin says to Lance, "Take me home?"

Lance goes up in the elevator with Justin to Justin's hotel room. They're staying in New York for two months, finishing up the album, starting the interviews, filming the video, promo shit. Justin thought about renting an apartment, but he likes hotels. Lance says, "I'll get you safely inside but I have dinner plans."

"I don't need an escort." Justin leans against Lance. "But I'm happy to spend time with you."

Lance pushes him off. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Well --" The elevator stops and Lance gets off, stops in front of the door to Justin's room. "You hate my boyfriend, you're flirting with me, and I'm beginning to think this whole posing nude thing was nothing more than a chance to be, to be naked in front of me."

Justin sighs and opens the door to his room. He goes in and Lance follows. Justin says, "I do hate your boyfriend. Seriously, I think he's an ass. And I always flirt with you. I posed nude because I wanted to. Turning you on is an added bonus." Justin flops on the bed. "You have a date. I need sleep."

Lance says "I'll see you tomorrow," and leaves.

*

They don't talk about it. Things are wild crazy and Lance spends the entire week carrying around a biography of Victoria Woodhull. He only gets ten pages read, and Justin knows because he checks Lance's book every morning just to see. They have promo and mastering and mixing and meetings.

Howie shows up for a day and when Lance isn't with Justin that day, he's with Howie. Before Howie heads out again, he pats Justin on the shoulder and says, "Dude, you need a rest. Both of you." He glances back at Lance and says, "I don't miss this shit at all."

Lance looks tired every single day. It's Saturday night, or really, Sunday morning because it must be 3 am, Lance pulls out a packet and says, "If you're still awake, Yang sent me the photos. We have to take out all the shots where your dick or balls are visible."

Justin nods. "Okay, let's do that."

Lance pulls out the contact sheets and a magnifying glass. "He does digital, and do you care about this? Anyway, we'll get the negatives which aren't really negatives of all the bad ones. Just us. Don't want that on the internet."

"Hell no. I prefer the pics where they stick my face on some porn star." Justin grins and sits closer to Lance.

Lance sighs. He cleans his glasses on his shirt and starts looking at the first page. "Okay, these three are out. Gimme a pen."

Justin digs in Lance's bag and hands him a pen. Lance puts a little x on the first three. Lance says, "You can do this. There's four pages."

Justin takes the last one. Three pics of him lying on his stomach on the brocade couch. He looks good, he thinks.

Lance says, "Nice even tan there." He marks off two more.

"Yeah, I hate that kind of white white ass, tan everywhere else look, you know?" Justin takes the pen from Lance and marks the one where he's laughing, pointing at Lance. "Do we get copies of the bad ones?"

"Thinking about your Christmas cards?"

"Ha ha. My mom wants to see the shots, do you believe that? Maybe I will put the dick ones on the card. Maybe just the card I send you."

Lance sighs again. He puts down the sheet. "Look, can we talk about this? We haven't, you know, had a chance, but it seems like a good idea."

"Talk about?"

"You. This, uh, flirting thing." Lance looks over at Justin, skin pale, bags under his eyes. He looks forty.

"What do you want me to say here?" Justin reaches over and rubs Lance's neck. Lance doesn't shrug him off.

"Well, what's up with you?"

"Well, I think that's obvious. You have a boyfriend --"

"I know you hate Ivan." Lance frowns but his shoulders relax.

"I hate Ivan, but not because he's your boyfriend." Justin moves even closer and rubs Lance's shoulders.

"So, you're saying ..." Lance's voice trails off.

"Look, I think you know how I feel. I'm not gonna lie. And I'm not gonna play some game of do I or don't I, you know, I'm too old for that crap. And I can't believe Ivan is someone you're gonna be with for a really long time because you're way too good for him."

"He's not Satan, for fuck's sake. He has a job, he's very interesting, he thinks I'm smart and hot and he's good in bed." Lance still doesn't push Justin off.

"Well, I know a few people just like that." Justin smiles. "Look, whatever, you think I'm too high pressure? I can step back."

"You're hardly high pressure." Lance shudders and says, "Keep doing that. Are you, you know, I can get the massage therapist girl here tomorrow for you. You've had this week, too." Lance doesn't say anything for a few minutes except a little purr when Justin pushes Lance a little lower so he can rub his lower back. "Ivan and I broke up."

"Sorry." Justin grins and keeps rubbing. Lance is one big ball of tense muscle.

"Yeah. He dumped me, actually, to be precise."

"Idiot. One more reason to hate him."

Lance laughs. After another few minutes Lance shrugs Justin off and stands up. "Okay, I'm taking these sheets and I'll have 'em for you in the morning."

"Okay." Justin yawns. "Works for me."

Lance looks down at the sheet in his hand. "You do look hot."

"Cause I am." Justin laughs. "You should'a done it, too, man, that would have been hot."

"Yeah," Lance rolls his eyes. "I'm too tired to make the sarcastic and rude remark that deserves. See you in the morning."

*

They take the tour bus for what amounts to three straight weeks of radio shows. The single is doing well, but Justin bets it's not quite good enough for Jive. Justin wanders around the bus, hears Lance's music coming from his bunk. Justin pulls back the curtain. "What'cha listening to?"

Lance rolls over and raises an eyebrow. "Whatever I want."

"Why are you being pissy?"

"Because I'm trying to read. And listen to my teeny tiny boombox in my itty bitty bunk. I'm setting boundaries, like they told me. Right now, it's my itsy bitsy bunk, that's my boundary."

Justin grins. "They don't make two people buses, really."

"I used to have one. Now you get the bed and I have this bunk." Lance smiles, though, so Justin leans forward. He can hear the music a little. It's pretty.

"You have all four bunks."

"I can't exactly spread out that way." Lance tugs at the curtain. "Leave me alone. I'm reading."

Justin goes and sits on the couch. He can hear the music and after a few minutes he sings along. He knows this song from somewhere. He sings, "What I wouldn't do for you," over and over again.

Lance climbs out of the bunk and sits across from Justin. The music is off but Justin doesn't stop singing. "What I wouldn't do for you," Justin sings.

Lance looks up from his book. He smiles. "You mean that?"

Justin smiles back. "Yes."

Lance walks over and holds Justin's face. He leans down and kisses Justin. Justin sits up and kisses him back.

Part 4

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