NOTES: For Glace's Become You Challenge. My song is She's Saving Me by Emily Saliers and it's quoted twice. This is entirely made up and for entertainment only. Know nothing, no profits, nothing but lies and fun. Thank to Nikki for one thing, my mother for another and thanks to Katie for encouragement. Thanks to Katie, Kel and Younger.

FEELS LIKE INSIDE OUT

Justin is napping on the bed; it seems he's always napping lately. He closes the door quietly but Justin still turns over, rubs his face. He grunts.

Lance says, "We got that thing tonight. You up soon, or you want more sleep?"

Justin shakes his head. "Nuh, no. I'm getting up now. I gotta, my hair, figure out what to wear." He sits up and rubs his eyes. Lance sits on the end of the bed and watches Justin tumble off the bed, go into the bathroom, and stare in the mirror. Justin turns and looks at him. "Are you wearing that?" Lance looks down at his black suit and his leather boots, his feet kicking against the bed.

"I am wearing this. We're gonna pick Chris up, the three of us will enter the party together, I figured come get you, blah blah."

Justin looks skinny. Just skinny and not emaciated or worn down, Lance thinks, and hell, that's something. It's a very good something. Justin says, "And this is, okay, I've forgotten. Brain like fucking cheese lately. This is the charity thing. And there's me, twenty-two and fit and looking all healthy and rarin' to go and you and Chris and." Justin stops and starts brushing his teeth.

"Joey's in New York, sent his regrets. He's doing well in that show. I mean, for all the lack of rehearsal and that stuff."

Justin spits. "I know, I know, I'm not. Brain like cheese doesn't mean I don't remember things, man, okay? But JC still has that thing, he's doing that with Dallas out in LA and can't come back?"

Lance nods. Justin spits again. "Well, good enough. The show's about me, anyway." Justin rubs his neck. "What should I wear?"

"Don't we have stylists for this?" Lance grins.

Justin frowns. "I don't need a fucking stylist for a fucking charity event that I'm only going to so people can see I can still fucking walk and shit like that." Lance keeps his face blank. Justin's just out of bed irritability is completely in play. It's even more fun now that Justin takes his doctor's orders two naps a day. So he wakes up three times a day and Lance gets to be there for at least two of them. It's like triple the non-fun of what is actually the least fun part of being with Justin. He repeats his little mantra about how he isn't Justin's problem right now, Justin just hates waking up.

"This is what I'm wearing. It needs to be a suit." Lance tugs at his tie.

Justin opens his walk in closet and starts pacing up and down. The closet that doesn't have the shoes. Justin rubs his chin. "Maybe I should start with the shoes. That's always the way to go."

So Justin's in the shoe closet, which is actually bigger than the clothes closet, when Lynn comes in. She walks past Lance without even a hello and he doesn't even roll his eyes anymore. She says, "Honey, you picking out something?"

They debate for a few minutes and Justin decides on a black suit, gray shirt, black shoes. He puts them on the bed by Lance. He's still wearing his track pants and no shirt and he stares at the shirt, pants, and jacket. "What's Chris wearing?"

Lance says, "I dunno," but Justin is already calling. Another five-minute conversation with lots of swearing on Justin's part but finally Justin decides the suit is okay.

"We're all gonna be in black, but I think that's okay. Chris's suit sounds awful, man, seriously. Pimptastic in a bad way, man." Justin sighs. He rubs his stomach. Lance watches Justin's hand, the skin showing between his fingers. Justin touches himself all the time now, his stomach and his arms, like he's reminding himself that he's there. Or he's comparing. Lance tries not to compare when he touches Justin, because he knows it will get better. It is getting better.

Justin looks at the two of them and says, "I'm gonna change now."

Lynn smiles. "You want us to leave?"

Lance grinds his teeth. This, this is the most tiring thing ever. He's in love with Justin, he must be. Because Lynn acts like he's nothing, always acts like he's not even important and he's yet to poison her macrobiotic cornflakes as much as he wants to. Lynn's never been a big fan of Lance and she likes him even less as the boy in Justin's life. Lance's sins include not being Britney, being someone with dick and rating as maybe even the second most important person in Justin's life right now. Justin looks serious and then looks at his bare feet. "No, Mom, I want Lance to stay."

Lynn's eyes narrow but she leaves. Lance stands up and follows Justin to the bathroom. Justin's putting on lather, and he's spinning the razor. Lance says, "Hey, I can do that." Justin shrugs and juts his chin out.

"Thank you, by the way," Lance says. It's almost domestic, gliding the razor over Justin's cheek, chin, cheek again. "I mean, for earlier. I didn't have to stay." Another minute and he's done.

Justin splashes water on his face. "Yeah, I know she's kinda. But whatever. We're already running late, right?"

Lance nods.

So, this weird version of domesticity. A surprise, and more surprises and then things were good and then scary and melodramatic and now it's just something. Working to get to better.

*

It began like this: somewhere in London, at Christina's party, in an actual back room. A coatroom with coats hanging against one wall, but not the guests', and the music playing wasn't Christina's, not what she'd have picked.

Justin said, "I missed you," like it meant a million things besides the words.

Justin kissed him, open-mouthed, wanting. Lance held on. He tugged at Justin's jeans, undid his belt. Making out, they were making out and that wasn't what Lance had expected. A surprise. A really fucking amazingly good surprise, but mostly Lance thought, surprise. Justin's hands were on Lance's face and then his shoulders. Lance sunk to his knees and pushed up Justin's t-shirt. Tan, how was Justin's stomach still tan in October in London? Which was a really silly question because hadn't Justin just been in Los Angeles or somewhere and wherever Justin had been he'd always have access to a tanning bed. Lance licked up from Justin's jeans, belt open, they were already sagging. He tasted sweat, muscle and the tang of skin, so warm. So much muscle and skin, it was beautiful.

He opened Justin's jeans and pulled out Justin's dick. Justin's hands were on Lance's head, in his hair. Justin's hands barely touched, pushed and then gripped and then just a touch again like a pulse. The same pulse Lance felt on his tongue, from Justin's dick. Every heartbeat, above him and in him.

Over the thrum, he heard Justin laughing. Lance opened his eyes and looked up reproachfully. As much as he could with Justin's dick still in his mouth. Justin was laughing and singing. Lance blinked and then he heard the music. The piped in music that wasn't from the party; it was Britney. Justin was singing, "I was born to make you happy."

Lance hummed and Justin bucked up. And the beat took over again, from Justin's hands and his heart. Cheeks hollowed and sucking, like being underwater with all the sounds so loud and far away. The beat sped up and over and over again and Justin gripped Lance's hair and he was done.

Lance sat back a little, still tangled up in Justin's legs and then all of Justin as Justin sunk to the floor. "Really, really missed you," Justin said, the first time he'd stopped singing. Justin kissed him again, kissed his chin. "You should shave," Justin whispered.

Justin pushed him against the other wall, not harshly. It was a small coatroom, not for the guests, but for the staff maybe and it was only three feet from end to end. Tangled together, Lance thought. Justin rubbed the back of Lance's neck and kissed him again and again. His other hand was opening Lance's jeans, tugging. "Okay," Justin said, "I can't, my throat, sorry, but I was born to make you happy." Justin grinned, white flash of teeth. His big hand was already around Lance's dick, slick with sweat maybe, something else and Lance decided he didn't give a fuck. He didn't want to think about his surprise. He just wanted to be surprised in a good way.

It was best part of the last two weeks by far, in this small space with Justin kissing him, jerking him off, and then he was humming Overprotected. Another Britney song and this so wasn't Christina's choice in music. "Say hello," Justin sang, his hand moving fast. Justin pushed open Lance's shirt, bit Lance's collarbone. Best part, Lance thought.

The song changed, right before everything sped up again. Lance said, "My shirt, man, I don't want my shirt to get messed up." Justin rolled his eyes and licked Lance's jaw.

"Oh, fine," he said and started laughing again. And Justin singing along to the song he wrote with Wade, of all people, Wade and Justin wrote this song for Britney and now Justin was singing it while he jerked off Lance. Surprise, Lance thought. "Do you know what it's like to be me?" Justin bent down started sucking, the touch of his lips replacing his hand and Lance came.

Lance thought it was just that once, just that coatroom maybe. Or just that night, because Justin said, "Come by tonight, man, come back with me." He'd never thought there would be more and he'd never thought about more before. Not Justin.

But Justin called a week later and Lance called two days after that. Not like they didn't talk before but this was maybe different. Because they didn't let two weeks go by without talking and they were talking a lot. A lot, Lance thought, who'da thought. Least likely, they were so fucking unlikely to make things work in any real way.

After two months, without Lance really saying anything, Joey looked at him across a bar and said, "So, J, huh? This time's the charm, you think?"

Lance looked up and said, "It's for real, I think." He smirked and looked down like that made it less stupid sounding.

*

It's the first day in the studio, eight weeks after they were all supposed to be there, and Justin almost bounds in. Lynn crosses her arms and says, "Justin, you know, you have to be home by ten. I know that sounds ridiculous, but."

"It does, Mom, it does. I know. Okay?" And he hugs her and walks quickly into the booth. Lynn stares at him for a moment and leaves. Things go well, they just slip right back into the groove. Lance only admits to himself that he was worried about it when he realizes he's relieved.

They met the week before over a few days to pick songs, plan the studio time and start firming up producers. Every song written by JC or Justin or both. Lance is really, really excited.

After seven hours, Justin crashes. He ends up curled in a ball on the couch, butt and feet against Chris's thigh on one end, head on Lance's lap. The couch smells like cigarette smoke and pot and women's perfume. They always smell like that in studios. Lance rubs little circles on Justin's shoulder and watches him sleep.

Joey sighs. "We are just not gonna hear the end of the questions on this, are we?"

JC sits cross-legged on the orange carpet. "It'll be like Brit, man."

"I wish we could put it on the list, you know, questions not to ask," Joey says.

Chris looks serious. "I wish we could stop them asking a lot of questions. Like, no more questions about how I know Squeaky Fromme. She was my fucking babysitter, man, I didn't know anything about that thing with Ford."

Lance blinks and stops himself from laughing. He knows that one, Squeaky Fromme tried to kill President Ford. Joey's laughter is like an explosion after a minute. JC keeps a straight face. He says, "Man, I know. One more question about my feelings on the Quebecois separatist movement and I'm a-gonna get lethal."

Lance laughs at that. Justin still hasn't started to stir. Lance says, "I'm so tired of talking about the Quebecois."

Chris says, "Quebequack? Quackekweeb? Whatchu talking about, Willis?"

Joey says, "Quebecois. Come on, Chris, say it."

Justin shifts and Lance says, "Sssssssh." JC covers his mouth so he stops giggling.

Chris starts whispering, "Quebekwack. Quebecrack. Queequeg."

Justin's eyes flutter open and he looks up at Lance. "Whu time?"

Lance says, "You've slept for an hour. You want more?"

Justin rubs his eyes. "Fuck, no." He sits up and cracks his neck. Chris is still whispering and Joey is snorting to stop laughing. "Laughing at me or is someone gonna tell me what's up?"

Chris says loudly, "Quebekweekegan!"

Justin stares at him for a moment and then laughs. "Are you trying to say Quebecois?"

"Yes!"

Justin grins. "You suck, man." He stands up and stretches. "Why are we trying to say Quebecois?"

*

Mostly, Lance felt stupid. In his head, he thought of it like a trade. Space for a boyfriend. Somehow that's how it worked out in his head. He wouldn't be going up in April; he wouldn't be going up ever. Window closed. His mom always loved that part in the Sound of Music when the head nun told Maria that whenever God closed a door, he opened a window. Lance's dad would snort and say, "You notice it's a heck of a lot harder to get out the second time."

So it was bad boyfriend for good boyfriend, except now he was the one who had to be discreet. He gave up space, he lost space and in return, he got going to parties and leaving without the person he ended up in bed with later that night. He didn't feel stupid for ending up with Justin, but the rest of it was stupid. He was, maybe, a profoundly stupid person. And maybe even more stupid for putting two bad things together, like not going to space and being screwed over by his bad boyfriend, and thinking of them as one thing somehow. They weren't, except in his head.

Justin was lying between his legs, foot in the air. In a month, Joey would say, "this time's the charm," but right then, it wasn't quite that serious. Justin said, "My foot hurts."

"Well, duh. You broke it."

"You're really fucking helpful." Justin shifted and sniffled. "My foot hurts, I'm so totally fucked, this is my damn album." He paused. "Am I whining enough?"

"I can put up with a little more."

Justin gripped Lance's knee. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting here, thinking about your hair."

"No, I mean, what are you doing? Like tomorrow, next day, after this? You think you're going up in April?"

Lance didn't say anything. Justin rubbed Lance's knee. Justin said, "Okay. Okay. You know what? You don't have to do anything. You deserve a vacation."

"It's not like you ever take one."

Justin sighed. "And look where it got me."

Lance said, "There. You used up all your whining."

"You know what? I was born to make you happy, man, I'm gonna put some more effort in that." Justin shifted again. "As soon as I can walk or something. Or move fucking easier."

*

The short version is that two days after Justin's solo tour ended, he came down with appendicitis. He went in bitching and moaning because he only had two weeks off before it was NSYNC time, meetings and studio time and he couldn't wait. Surgery was nothing and Justin seemed fine. Five hours later, he started running a fever again and then everything went bad. The doctors hemmed and hawed and Lance doesn't remember any of the terms. It was an infection. One of those kind people get in hospitals, all souped up and strong and none of the antibiotics worked. And they waited and waited for three days for Justin to get better and lucid or worse and die. His heart stopped once, but the doctors started it up again a minute later.

He got better. He fought back and the hospital gave him some "super king komea antibiotics," as Joey called them. The doctors made noises about lasting damage and Lynn almost slapped them. Two weeks for Justin to leave the hospital, six weeks at home, on rest. And this was Justin, after all, and after being home one week no one said anything about lasting damage anymore. Still, it would be a while before Justin was up to snuff. Back to normal.

Lance doesn't think about the hospital very often. But he dates things: pre-hospital, post-hospital.

*

Pre-hospital, a party with Joey, they stood in corner watching Justin talk to Alyssa. Joey said, "Yo, is he still with her? Are they, uh?"

"They are. It's totally okay."

"So, wait, he's dating both of you? Or, okay, you're okay with it. But that sounds like a nice deal." Joey shook his head and grinned.

"It's not like that. Look, really, if you have a spare hour or two, just ask Justin about his whole theory of spiritual energy and --"

"Oh, god. No. What's the short version?"

"Justin says, at great length, that having sex with women and men for him, it's different. Because with women, almost all women, the spiritual energy is different, it's not there and the level of connection is purely physical. Except with Britney, and I think Janet. Anyway, so it's different for him. He says. So it's nothing like cheating because it's not the same. It feels different." Lance shrugged. "Whatever, I don't mind."

"I agree that it feels different to fuck a woman than a man, but, uh, that sounds really, um."

"I know. It's Justin, though. He believes it. He has, it's a really well developed theory. And you know he believes. I mean, I like the part of theory where he says having sex with me is some transcendent experience." Lance looked down at his drink and grinned.

"Well, hell, everyone says that." Joey leered.

Justin was touring and Lance flew out to see him. More than once, this was the fifth time. Twice he'd done it under the radar and even the teenies haunting the hotel hadn't caught him. This was one of the times where he got to be a bit more public. Lance grinned because he thought it was funny that Lynn, Justin and Johnny had sat down and decided exactly how many times Lance could show up and be a supportive friend and how many times would be suspicious.

He found himself almost skipping off the plane and shook his head. But he walked fast through the airport, no bodyguards, thinking about Justin. Love him, love him like a little chant in his head. He felt completely stupid but for once it didn't make him feel bad. Stupid and in love should go together sometimes, Lance thought.

He went straight to the venue and got his all-access pass, went straight backstage. He did skip, just a little, in an empty corridor. Step, step, and he smiled at Dre and went in. Justin. He felt like he was smiling too wide, looking drunk when he was sober. Then he saw Justin, one hand on Alyssa's shoulder. Justin's smile wavered and then he was hugging Lance. "Man, so glad to see you." He moved back and said, "It's surprise central, 'cause Alyssa just showed up out of nowhere, too."

"A surprise. I only have tonight." She grabbed Justin's hand and smiled at Lance. "I have to leave for the airport at 2 am, can you believe it?"

Lance nodded. Lynn smirked and started talking to Alyssa about her mother and her horse. Justin shot a look at Lance and then joined the conversation. Lance watched for a moment and sighed. Then Alyssa looked up at Justin, something in her eyes. Lance knew Justin had never said he loved her. He never would. He'd said it to Lance, already, more than once. Lance stepped forward, warm smile in place and said, "Well, we should leave you two alone. Lynn, come talk to me."

The show was great. Alyssa watched from backstage, Lance stood in the pit with a bodyguard. He went back to the hotel after the show and sat in the bar with the band, talking to Kevin and Anthony, catching up. He got a little drunk and got up from the table at 1:45 am. He went out the front door and signed a few autographs, got in a cab. He had the cab let him out two blocks away, in front of another hotel. But he walked in and out, walked back to the parking lot of Justin's hotel. He went in that way and took the elevator to Justin's floor. He'd made guys do this; it was still mostly odd doing it himself. But he felt like a secret agent, or a really high paid gigolo. He was like Richard Gere in that movie, except he wasn't a Buddhist and he didn't care about the Dalai Lama.

He saw Dre outside Justin's door. "Hey, man. He alone?"

Dre nodded, smiled. Dre knew, Lance was pretty sure. If it wasn't obvious months ago, the last five times on the tour when Lance had spent most of the night in Justin's room were probably confirmation enough. Lance knocked and thought about Venn diagrams, circles of people who knew for sure and people who suspected and people who had a clue and everyone else. Gigolos didn't think about Venn diagrams.

Justin was grinning as he opened the door, dripping wet with a towel around his waist. "Come in, you fucker."

Lance sat on the bed while Justin dried his hair with the towel. It was a really nice view. "God," Justin said, "she's just. It's really frustrating. Like, she gets it, on this fundamental level, she knows I don't love her but she's all waiting for me to say it, she's almost getting bitchy about it, even when we're fucking and it's just stupid because she knows, I know she knows, she knows that I'm not gonna say it. And she's just pushing and pushing until I don't say it. I'm gonna have to break it off and it's completely annoying."

"Well, I sympathize with liking you a lot." Lance leaned back on the bed. Justin grinned.

He dropped his towel and pushed Lance onto the bed. "Yeah, I think I know that feeling."

Lance cupped Justin's jaw. He was happy; this was pretty close to perfect happiness. He said, "I know you know the feeling of liking you a lot, you cocky bastard." Justin laughed as he opened Lance's shirt.

*

They have sex every night now. Lance thinks he's going to get tired of it, eventually. Straight from the studio to one of their houses and then sex. Once Lance couldn't spend the night and they did it in the back of Lance's SUV, parked in Lance's garage. Justin stretched, got dressed, and got back in his own car, drove home.

Lance also thinks Justin's borrowed some book on the joys of gay sex from JC because suddenly he's all about positions and toys. Which is, again, something Lance thinks he'll get tired of eventually. They haven't hit anything new for Lance, but along with the inherent hotness of Justin wanting to do these things, he's a little amused by Justin's normal perfectionism applied to the use of dildos and cock rings.

Lance rolls over and buries his head in the pillow. Justin has the best pillows. Justin says, "You sleepy?"

"God, yes." Lance pulls up the blanket over both of them.

Justin nuzzles Lance's shoulder. "Okay, well, stay awake a little longer. I have an idea. I mean, more like a thought. But if you don't wanna, it's so okay."

"Hmmm?"

"Okay. So. It's just a thought. But, I was thinking --"

"Thoughts generally do come from thinking. Justin, god, just say it. Is this the part where you bring up furries? Because I'm drawing the line on this wild and wooly sexual odyssey." Lance turns a little so he can see Justin and Justin can see he's smiling.

"No, God, gross. That's just fucking weird. You think Christina's tried it?"

"I, uh. I don't want to think about. What were you gonna say?"

Justin moves closer and tugs the blanket higher over them. "Okay, here's the thing. I was thinking, you know, someone else. With us. Not like, not you. But three." Justin bites his lip and looks expectant.

"Not a girl, right?"

"No. God, again, no. A guy, of course. I mean, if you want. You know, threesome."

"Oh." Lance blinks. "Who, did you have someone in mind?"

Justin smirks. "Well, you know, I wanted you to agree. So I maybe already said something to someone."

"Who?"

"Joey."

Lance just stares. He's just really surprised. "What, what did Joey say?"

"He said he wanted to talk to you and make sure it was okay. But, um, he seemed interested. Completely. I kind of just assumed you were."

Lance squints. "You want this? I mean, we don't have to. If you just want to --" but Lance won't finish that sentence. He's not willing to give Justin free reign to fuck whomever. He doesn't care about the women, he firmly believes Justin when he says that women aren't the same. It makes sense for Justin. But this is real, and Lance might be stupid, but he's not so stupid as to let his boyfriend fuck around with his permission. Justin gets to work out his issues right here with Lance or not at all.

Justin smiles again. It's his prettiest smile, one of the real ones. "I want this a lot. I want to have fun, you know, but I want fun with you. I think it would be really hot, right?"

Lance nods. He's not going to turn this down. But he does want to talk to Joey, make sure everything's okay.

Joey pulls Lance aside when they get their first break at the studio, the morning after Justin unveils his plan. Lance wonders when the fuck Justin did his asking, how that went down. Joey tugs at his eyebrow stud and says, "Justin told you, right?" Joey glances at the ground and back at Lance and back down again.

"He did. I mean, you seriously okay with this?"

Joey smirks. "Hmmmmmmmm, fucking you and Justin. Wow, do I look stupid enough to say no?"

Lance leans back against the wall and reaches in Joey's pocket, snags his emergency pack of cigarettes. "You should quit carrying these things." Lance grabs a cigarette and lights it. "And now you're back to guys?"

Joey sits down on the ground and grabs his emergency pack back. He just toys with it. Joey has a solo this time. He has two, one in JC's super-fast disco song, and one in Justin's sleek R&B number. So Joey's not smoking. Lance doesn't have any solos, even with fucking Justin for months and months and fuck, it's almost been a year. Lance doesn't care at all. He takes a long drag on the cigarette. He repeats himself. "So, Joe, you're back to guys?"

Joey looks up. He says, "Eh. See, was I ever in guys? Okay, bad phrasing." Joey laughs. "I've had more and less experimental parts of my life. I don't spend a lot of time trying to nail down where I am in some scale of sexuality or spiritual energy appreciation thing. Clearly, there have been points in my life where there were more guys and --" Joey shakes his head. "Whatever, my question is, you okay with this?"

"Okay, like okay?"

"Like, hey, your boyfriend, who seems really serious about you and you really serious about him and all that, he's coming up to me and asking about a threesome. I don't wanna cause problems."

Lance plays with his cigarette and shrugs. "Well. You know. It won't. I think, you know, Justin."

Joey just makes his "keep going, dipshit" face.

"I think Justin is really interested in doing things that prove he's so fucking healthy he can do anything. And this is that. One part of that. And he's a little nuts, but he's not certifiable or bad nuts. And I'm not going to complain. He decides he wants to do an Iron Man or something, I'll complain, but hell, wild sex life, I think that's not so bad. He's happy to be alive." Lance stubs out his cigarette with the heel of his boot.

Joey laughs. "Fine, okay. Then, screw it, I'm there. If you're okay with it."

Lance smirks. "You ever done that before?"

"Threesome, you know it, boy."

"Three guys?"

Joey rubs his face. "Nope."

"So, two guys and one girl?"

Joey considers. "Oh, that, five, no, six times."

"And the guys were?" Not that Lance isn't pretty sure.

"Um. Chris twice, JC for twice, and, you know. AJ was the other." Joey blushes. "AJ's really bendy. Which, I imagine you know."

Lance smirks. "He says nice things about you, too."

"But, I tell you. You know, two girls and me, that's a much higher number. How about you?"

"Well, two girls and me? Once. I think it was a bet. And I think you made that bet." Lance watches Joey push himself up from the ground. He's really trying not to think about Joey's thighs, because even if it's Justin's idea, Lance thinks it's still probably wrong somehow to be too excited. So he looks up at the sky and says, "And it was perfectly fine if a little boring. Two other guys and me? That's probably equal to your with two girls, you know? A much higher number. And two guys and a girl, that's about ten or eleven times. But besides once with Chris and once with AJ, thank you very much, no one you know. I hope."

Joey says, "You hope?"

"Well, you know, sometimes they weren't the nicest guys. Or the nicest girls. And, you know, I have bad taste in guys, sometimes, I think."

Joey cocks his head and says, "I like the guy you're seeing now, so, not so bad taste." He opens the door and waves Lance back in.

*

It felt like a long spring, before the hospital made everything that came before seem too short. It wasn't like Lance didn't have things to do, but mostly he wasn't going into space at all, maybe ever, he snuck in and out of hotels across the fucking world to see his boyfriend and he went to parties and drank too much. Or at least he looked like he did and Lance was really sick of people thinking he was such a lush when really, he just blushed easily. Although he did drink a lot.

Justin decided to learn yoga and hired a teacher who doubled as a massage therapist and traveled with him. Lance laid back on the bed and watched Justin stretch and twist. "It's really turning out to help my back," he said.

Lance said, "Okay. It's nice to watch you do it."

"You should try it. Madonna swears by it." Justin grinned and flopped down on the bed next to Lance.

"Is Kabbalah next? Cause, seriously, Justin, I'm not ready for Jewish mysticism. Or, you know, Jewish mysticism and you." Lance rolled over and pushed up Justin's shirt.

"You got something against Jews?" Justin giggled as Lance licked the thin sheen of sweat off Justin's stomach.

"Some of my best friends, Justin, some of my best friends." Lance looked up. "Also, I slept with a Jewish guy for, um, six weeks? I think. I mean, we were almost dating."

Justin laughed and arched his back, his pretty pretty pecs rubbing up against Lance's chin. "You weren't dating that guy. I mean, you were just fucking. You're dating me and that's way different, right?"

Lance nodded. "Definitely dating you. I mean, really, I've only dated two people. So. You're the best of that. But, seriously, I think it'd be odd for someone with a big cross tattooed on his arm to take up the Kabbalah and I'm telling you this now before you start on it, or something."

Justin looked serious for a moment and then he smiled. "Okay, point taken. I'll get the tattoo redone into a star of David or something before I start on that. Promise."

Lance had only dated two people. Two men, Justin and the other. Two women he would call relationships but he'd never quite got around them being women and he didn't think he would call it dating somehow. Two that mattered and lasted.

He complained about the other one a lot, to everyone but Justin. He felt stupid and he kept trying to make it all seem less stupid. He stopped complaining or even mentioning boyfriend number one after Chris yelled at him.

Chris was drunk, some bar in Orlando sitting across from Lance and Joey and it had all been really nice, they didn't get together as often they should, Lance thought. Except then Chris leaned across from the table and said, "Shut up about it. Just shut up. God, I get you're gay, I get it's hard and how do you find the right guy and how do you ever go out and how do you make it work when you can't take the person you're dating out and about and you know what? Don't be so fucking stupid about it. Just don't. Come out or deal with it." Chris slammed his drink down and Lance sat back in his chair, gripping the table in his anger. What this was really about, Lance thought, was that Chris had hated bad boyfriend from day one and hadn't said I told you so yet.

"Because you know what?" Chris was practically whispering but Lance could still hear him. "Your little thing, your take him everywhere, show him around, wink wink nudge nudge shit, it's just that, it's bullshit. Do or don't do and if you decide to not do or just fuck with the system, be prepared to face the fucking consequences. God, you dated a jerk. Turns out he was a jerk. Get the fuck over it. And next time, don't flaunt him like you're so fucking clever." Chris sat back and glared. "Just shut up."

Lance threw a hundred on the table and marched out. He waited for Chris to call the next day and apologize but he didn't. They saw each other at a charity event and Lance kept expecting more needling or at least a "sorry." He got neither. He dropped hints, left conversational openings and nothing. He was pissed and vaguely embarrassed and he really wanted to focus on Chris being an asshole and not what Chris had said.

After a few hours, Chris bumped his elbow and said, "Dude, chill. I'm not going to apologize and I said my piece. I'm not, like, still pissed at you. I said my piece. You take it or leave it."

Lance looked away, at a waiter, at someone in an ugly plaid skirt who was pulling up her hose. He said, "Fine. I just don't agree, okay?"

Chris said, "Sure. But we're good? If we're not, let's leave and argue in the limo."

Lance shook his head. "No, we're good. I just don't agree." He was lying about not agreeing.

*

It was post-hospital by only one week. So Justin had been someone who was absolutely going to live and not die from some fucking post-operative infection for three weeks and two days. Lynn had hired this chef who only made macrobiotic organic food. "It's good for him," Lynn said. She'd been reading about these things for three weeks and two days and she'd decided that Justin wasn't going to be poisoned anymore. Justin was only awake about six hours a day for the first week, so he didn't object.

Lance didn't object, but he made sure to eat as many meals as possible outside of the house of free-range chicken, kelp shakes and raw food. He couldn't even keep track of what Lynn and her new chef had decided would make Justin heal faster, get better quicker, never get sick again this week.

After a few days home, Justin had said to Lance, "You should come by, like, every day, man. I'm just. It's nice to have you around." He had looked at the floor the whole time. So Lance came by every day.

Lynn stopped him when he came in and pulled him into the kitchen. The chef was puttering around, cooking something that smelled like ass. Lynn whispered, "You know he's still getting better, right? He's not back to everything just because he's home."

Lance said, "Yes." He inhaled deeply and didn't add, "Duh, bitch."

"He's still recovering. Are you clear on that?"

Lance closed his eyes and crossed his arms. He opened his eyes and said, "I know that. If you're trying to say that I shouldn't, you know, be planning twelve hour make out sessions or something, I'm clear on that as well."

She stared at him for a moment and then said, "Good. I just don't want you or him doing anything stupid."

Lance wasn't even interested in the kind of stupid things Lynn was envisioning. He just wasn't. Justin still looked sick and wasted away. Lance walked through the house and found Justin sitting in the back yard, head on his knees. Lance sat down next to Justin and nudged his leg. "Hey, you."

Justin looked up and smiled. He said, "We have photographers. I mean, in the bushes or somewhere. I don't know where exactly, but just so you know." Justin sighed. "And it's not like People isn't coming next week, but."

"Well, your mother would come running out and shoot me if I touched your hair, so. I'll be friends only."

Justin rested his head on his knees again. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. She's just really, you know --"

"It's fine. Don't worry."

Justin was quiet for a little while. Lance watched someone mowing the lawn way out in the back, it looked miles away but he knew Justin didn't have that much property. Finally Justin said, "You know, I've got these, um, it's not quite physical therapy. But this lady, she works with, like, athletes and stuff. Like, um, Lance Armstrong, you know? Not people who lost their leg or were paralyzed, but more, um, chemo or something? Anyway, this lady actually worked with Lance Armstrong. Which is pretty impressive. And we went running today. It was just pathetic." Justin kept his head down.

"Well, you just got out of the hospital, like, not even two weeks ago. The doctor said you're doing really well, you know, getting your strength back." Lance leaned over for a moment, brushed his shoulder against Justin's.

"I know. She gave me, um, she referred me to this shrink. She was saying something about how hard it can be, mentally, to go from healthy to not. I dunno."

Lance thought Justin had done too many interviews to do well in therapy. He just pictured Justin weighing each answer and holding back what he felt wasn't anyone's business. He said, "You thinking about going? You seem pretty well adjusted to me. I mean, I know people who are much more in need of therapy."

Justin looked up and smiled a little. "Yeah, maybe I'll just pass it on to Chris. Just kidding. But, um, I dunno. It might be good or something. I feel crazy."

"You're really not."

"Well, you're not an expert." Justin paused. "You know, it's like, I get it, but y'all, it's different for me. I mean, I get it. I remember, like, when you and Joey, but I don't remember being sick. I was just, just out of it. I remember coming out of surgery and then everything's all fuzzy. The part I remember is waking up and I just felt like shit. And it's like, for y'all, you're up on this hill and for you, you're over it. The bad part is all over. And y'all are all waving at me and I feel like I haven't gotten over the hump at all. Like, it's just a really long climb."

Lance couldn't think of anything to say. He nudged Justin again and said, "Wanna go inside?"

Justin nodded. "Sure, we can make out." He grinned. Lance stood up and pulled Justin up. He let go as soon as Justin was all the way up and jammed his hands in his pockets. No touching, he thought.

When they got inside, Justin grabbed Lance's hand and pulled him upstairs. It wasn't really pulling, and Lance didn't stare at Justin's thin wrist. They went to Justin's bedroom and Justin locked the door. "Okay," he said, "now we make out."

Lance shook his head and waited on the bed. They couldn't do much more than kiss and touch a little and Lance was fine with that. He didn't even get hard usually, but he tried not to let Justin notice that.

He kept his hand flat when he rubbed under Justin's shirt. If he didn't, he could fit his fingers in the spaces between Justin's ribs. Justin kissed him over and over again, and Lance kept his hands flat but kissed back. Then Justin butted his head against Lance's shoulder and said, "Sleepy."

Lance said, "S'okay."

"I just, hmmm, I just feel like. I'm really fucking up at the born to make you happy shit." Justin looked up and grinned and then closed his eyes. "Not to sound like a fucking girl." He fell asleep right after that. Lance stayed awake, wrapped around Justin until Lynn came in to check on them. She didn't say anything, just stared. Lance quickly untangled himself, sat up and pulled on his shirt. He didn't get off the bed, though. He lay down next to Justin and closed his eyes until he heard her close the door.

He actually fell asleep. At some point Justin poked him and Lance opened his eyes. "Hey?"

"I just woke up." Justin blinked. "S'nice you're still here." Justin closed his eyes again and snuggled closer.

*

Lance sits on the bed and rubs his knees. "Okay, Justin, I'm just a little confused about the etiquette here."

Justin walks in from the bathroom and stretches. "The etiquette? Joey's coming over, we get nekkid, blah, blah, hot sex. Etiquette?"

"Like, um, I should have asked sooner, but are we serving dinner or are we eating before he comes? Are we eating?"

Justin smirks. "I hope to be eating something." Then he giggles. "Or is that better to say if girls are involved?"

Lance stands up. "I don't know. I was asking you about etiquette."

"You're the expert. I mean, you've done this a lot more than I have."

"Okay, that was like, a lot more spontaneous. Like, walk into a bar, talk to someone, and find someone else. It wasn't like, hey, friend I've known for forever, in fact, best friend, and my boyfriend propositions him the day before he tells me about it."

Justin walks up to him and kisses him. "Second thoughts?"

"No, nope." Lance pulls Justin closer and kisses him back. "As long as you're okay."

"Excited, not okay. Excited."

Joey comes up through the gate two minutes later. Justin grins and says, "You wait here. I'll bring him up."

It's weird to be nervous, Lance thinks. It's not like he's had some monster crush on Joey or something. Or ever did. It's just that maybe he never let himself have one, because at some point he put Joey in a box labeled best friend and never let himself think of Joey any other way. Probably somewhere around the time Kelly got pregnant, or maybe even way before that. And it was a good idea, it is a good idea. But it should still be okay to let Joey out of the box for one night, especially if Justin will be there. He's relatively sure of that. Just one night.

Justin and Joey come in, Joey first. Joey's wearing jeans, and a t-shirt. He looks nervous. He looks at Justin and Lance and back at Justin. He says, "So. What do we do now?"

Justin shakes his head. "Y'all are acting like a bunch of virgins." He grabs Joey's neck and kisses him, hard. Joey doesn't hesitate; he just pulls Justin even closer, squeezes his ass. Lance starts rubbing his crotch; he's so hard from watching this. He doesn't need to even do anything tonight if he can just watch Justin and Joey make out. He can just stare at Joey's hand moving into Justin's jeans, the way Justin is pushing against Joey. He's really happy with this.

Justin pulls back and smirks. His mouth is wet which just makes Lance clutch at himself a little more. Justin nudges Joey toward the bed and says, "Three means three, and the bed is much nicer than the floor."

Joey looks happy and more confident. Lance thinks, box, box, remember he has to go back in the box and then Joey is pushing him back on the bed. Joey's on top of him, warm and much heavier than Justin. It's great, it's different and it feels good and then Joey kisses him. Which just moves Lance to non-verbal thinking. His mouth, Joey's mouth, and the little tickle from Joey's beard and all of it. Just right there. Warm and wet and the weight pushing him down.

The mattress shifts and Lance thinks, Justin. He breaks off the kiss and says, "Justin?" Takes his hand off Joey's back and reaches blindly. Justin, he should be thinking about Justin.

Justin tugs on his chin, and Lance sees him. Thank goodness, smiling, and Lance thinks box, box. Joey is licking Lance's neck, pushing up his shirt. Then Justin is kissing him and it's all too much again. Not even naked, and Lance feels like his blood is nothing but champagne, fizzing and popping and he can't think. It's a fucking miracle.

Then Justin's gone and Lance closes his eyes and leans his head back. Justin's saying something, and then Joey's weight is gone from his chest, then back. Then Joey isn't grinding against his crotch and Lance whimpers. He looks up and Justin is pulling off Joey's pants. Justin winks. "Naked. This is even more fun naked."

Lance nods and pulls off his shirt. Joey's back on top of him and tugging on his pants. Lance lifts his hips and they're off. "No underwear," Joey mutters, "now that's preparation." Then he says, "I didn't know you got another tattoo." Lance flinches and shifts his hip away when Joey dips his head to lick it. It itches. It's old, parts of it, and it still itches sometimes. Lance knows it doesn't, it's all in his head, and all he wants to think about is Joey's mouth, Joey licking his hips.

Justin's still dressed. Lance pulls Justin over to him and he's impressed with himself. A feat of coordination as Joey licks and nips Lance's stomach. Lance is so hard, he feels like he's seventeen again. He pulls off Justin's shirt somehow and tries to unbuckle Justin's jeans. Justin starts laughing and does it himself. He takes Lance's hand and starts licking his fingers.

Lance is going to come from just this, from Justin and Joey rubbing against his dick and not there yet. His mouth, not yet on Lance's dick. He's just. This is pretty much the best idea Justin has ever had.

So they're all naked and Justin lies down next to Lance and starts rubbing himself against Lance's hip. Lance thinks he's going to die, but this is the best way to go. And then Joey finally, finally has his mouth on Lance's dick and that's even better. Joey's mouth again, wet and licking and Lance is dead. Right here.

Lance comes in Joey's mouth and Joey swallows. Lance gasps against Justin's mouth. Justin says, "Lance, turn over." Justin rubs Lance's chest. "Come on, baby." Lance flails for a moment and remembers how to move. He rests his head on his pillow. Justin murmurs in his ear, "You wanna?"

Lance nods. "Yes, please."

Justin murmurs again and then Lance hears kissing. He's happy, he is, because Justin should be getting some. Then fingers pressing in him and Lance stops thinking again. Justin, Justin fucks him, Lance knows how Justin feels, the breadth of his hands on Lance's back. He hears Joey swearing. Lance is just moaning now, he doesn't know words. Justin comes grunting against Lance's neck. More shuffling and kissing, then Justin is pressed against Lance's side. Lance rubs Justin's arm and they kiss. Justin tastes like Joey and Lance thinks, box, box. He doesn't remember exactly why but he thinks he shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he is.

Joey says, "Okay?" Lance murmurs something encouraging and wiggles his hips. Joey starts laughing. "Okay." Joey thrusts in and it's different. It's been so long since Lance did this with anyone else but Justin. Lance pushes back and Joey moans. It's rougher than Justin and it's so fucking good. Lance claws at Justin's arm and Justin pants into his ear. Lance is hard all over again, and Joey reaches under and starts stroking Lance's dick. They come at the same time, while Justin says, "Now that's a sight to see."

Joey says, "God," long and drawn out. He ends up sprawled against Lance's other side.

Lance says, "Now we sleep, right?" Justin sits up and tucks the covers around the three of them.

Lance wakes up briefly and Justin is wrapped around him, curly head against his shoulder. Joey, Lance thinks. But there's just warmth from his other side, not really touching. Lance scratches Justin's back and falls back asleep.

He wakes up alone. He sits up and rubs his eyes. "Guys?"

Joey pulls down Lance's hand and kisses his nose. "Who's a sleepy guy?"

"Where's, uh --" Joey kisses him, warm, sloppy tongue.

Joey pulls back. "You taste awful in the morning. You got to quit smoking."

"I smoke two cigarettes a week." Lance lies back on the bed. "Where's Justin?"

Justin is standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed. He says, "I'm here." Justin's almost frowning.

Lance says, "Baby. Come over here."

"No, we gotta get ready. We're all supposed to be at the studio, like, soon."

Joey sits down on the end of the bed. He's naked still. Lance likes the view. Joey laughs. "Justin, soon is three hours."

"I don't want us all showing up together. So, you," Justin taps Joey's shoulder, "need to leave first and stuff."

Joey stands up and stretches. Lance really likes that view. He's pretty sure this is just Justin's usual morning irritability. He's almost entirely sure. Then Justin says, "Seriously. That was all well and good --"

Joey laughs again and starts walking to the bathroom. "I think very good is the better way to say it."

"It was fine. But we're not doing it again and it's time for you to go."

Joey turns and looks at Justin. Joey's face is blank and Lance stomach twists. Joey just says, "Yeah?"

Justin looks down and looks back up again. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Joey gets dressed slowly and doesn't look away from Justin. When he's got all his clothes back on he taps Justin's shoulder and says, "You. Are being an asshole. We can talk later." He looks over at Lance and says, "Bye, man. See you at the studio." Lance waves and grimaces. He feels stupid all over again.

Justin walks into the bathroom and closes the door. Lance scrambles out of bed and goes in after him. "Hey, what was that? I thought you wanted this. You were fine last night."

Justin turns on the shower but doesn't completely close the shower door. "I wasn't mad at Joey."

"You did a pretty good imitation."

"Yeah, whatever." Justin pulls the door closed.

Lance opens the door and steps into the shower. The water is hot, it's almost scalding. He steps back against the wall. "Why are you mad at me?"

Justin rubs shampoo into his hair. "I just. God, do you have to be so, it's like, fuck, I get that." Justin pauses and turns his back on Lance to wash his face and his hair.

"You're not making any sense." Lance steps forward and it's too fucking hot. He reaches around Justin and turns on a little of the cold water. Justin has a really big shower, something Lynn got put in the two weeks they kept Justin in the hospital after he started to get better.

"Okay, fine, whatever. I'm the stupid one this time."

"This time?"

"This time." Justin turns again, so he's facing Lance. Water runs down his face, his shoulders. "You're the one always saying you're so stupid, you feel stupid. And this time it's me. I was stupid. I'll fucking apologize to Joey and we can just, just go back to us. Okay?"

Lance doesn't know what to say, he's just confused and hurt. And he's pissed off, it's really fucking low that Justin would be acting like this, like Lance did something other than just fucking enjoy himself when Justin was practically shoving Joey on him. He opens the door and steps out of the shower.

Lance gets back in the bed and closes his eyes. He can sleep more. Justin wakes him up, he's dressed already. "Lance?"

"What the fuck now?"

"It's an hour and a half until we need to go, I thought you'd want to shower." Justin sounds apologetic, maybe, at least he doesn't sound all pissy like earlier.

"What's up with you?"

"I'm just, fuck, you know how I am when I just wake up." Justin sits down on the covers and plays with Lance's hair. "Okay? Seriously. I feel like a shit, I shouldn't have said that shit about you being stupid or whatever. I didn't mean it."

But he did. Lance is pretty sure of that. Justin just doesn't mean it now. Lance rolls off the bed. "You gonna call Joey?"

Justin says, "Already did."

"Yeah?"

"I said, hi, it's the stupid asshole. Have I mentioned I should not be allowed to talk before I've been up for a few hours? And it kinda flowed from there."

Lance walks into the bathroom and Justin follows him. "Lance, you have every right to be really pissed at me. I'm just, okay, that was a really regrettable thing this morning, to you and to Joey. I just." Justin pauses. "I should have remembered I suck at sharing."

Lance snorts. "I'm dating you, Justin. I mean, I assume that's what you're talking about, right? That you were all pissed because of me and Joey? I mean, you were there and --"

"I know." Justin comes up behind Lance and hugs him. "I love you, okay?"

Lance smiles. "It's okay with me. I'm pretty fond of you, clearly." He rubs Justin's hand. "This isn't, like, settled settled okay? We should talk more, okay?"

Justin nods against Lance's shoulder.

Justin really did apologize to Joey; everything's actually perfectly fine between the two of them when they get to the studio. Joey finds Lance outside during one of their breaks and silently hands him a cigarette. "Thanks."

Joey says, "So. Okay, the first part was fun. I mean, Justin wigging out was not, but the rest. That was fun."

"I told you sex with guys is better." Lance smirks and inhales.

"You never actually said that. You said, I think, you were drunk, it was Germany, you said sex with girls was kinda gross and you liked guys better." Joey doesn't smile back.

"Well, that's me. But."

Joey just fidgets. Lance finally says, "I thought you and Justin were fine, he said y'all were fine."

"Me and Justin, sure. He didn't, he said some things. We're all fine. He didn't think things through. I just, you know, you."

Lance shrugs. "I'm good." Lance plays with his cigarette. He's had more than two this week. He should cut down. After he finishes this one. "Right?" He looks up and Joey looks confused. "Okay, see, it's all pretty clear to me. You, best friend, Justin, boyfriend. If that's what you think I'm not good about. Um, not to be insulting. It's just, you know, in love with him, not you. Really." And Lance shuts up because maybe Joey thinks something else is wrong, or something. Maybe he was just really rude.

But Joey smiles. "Okay, just checking." Lance keeps puffing on his cigarette until Joey leaves. Lance knows he's not completely stupid, because he knows he wasn't lying to Joey. He knows the good thing he's got, psycho weirdo in the morning and after threesomes notwithstanding.

*

Chris had yelled at him about the bad boyfriend and Lance spent a good few weeks feeling stupid. Justin lay next to him and poked him, one night in the Midwest somewhere, on Justin's very big bus for one person. Justin said, "A euro for your thoughts?"

"A euro?"

"Well, you know, trying to be more cosmopolitan." Justin smirked.

"I don't know that it worked."

"Good thing I started with you, then." Justin moved closer. "And, you know, answer the question."

"Do you have any euros?" Lance grinned.

"Ah, avoidance. You know, I haven't read as many books as you think I have, but I do know some things." Justin tapped his forehead. "I am not a bear of as little brain as you think."

"I don't think you're a bear of little brain." Lance closed his eyes.

Justin was quiet for a few moments. Lance hoped he'd fallen asleep and they wouldn't have to have any sort of conversation about this. He had no such luck. "But you think you are, right?"

"Sometimes," Lance muttered and turned on his side so he could pretend to be asleep.

"Well, so what? You're not fundamentally stupid, like, hello, who made it through training and all those other things. I think that was you." Justin spooned behind Lance. "So you're not stupid stupid. I think, um, everyone does stupid things and hell, do them when you're young when you can still use that an excuse, right?"

"You think?" Lance shifted back. Maybe he could distract Justin with sex. Justin was comforting, but Lance preferred avoidance and denial.

"Absolutely. You're not stupid, you're just young." Justin started laughing and rubbed Lance's hip, under his underwear. "And I'm not stupid and you can't distract me."

Lance murmured, "Oh yeah?" and rolled over and proved he very well could.

Then they were sticky and naked and the sheets were about to fall off of the bed. Lance pulled the sheets back on the bed and looked at his hips, his thighs. He was still in shape and that was nice. He put his hand over the tattoo and tried not to feel stupid.

Justin put his hand over Lance's and said, "You know, I know a guy who does great cover-ups. Um, if you wanted that."

"Oh." Lance paused and felt the warmth of Justin's hand. "I was thinking that. Or get it lasered off. I have time to kill."

"I mean, it's up to you. I think a cover-up would be better. Because the laser thing takes a few treatments and it's expensive. You could afford it, but it's cheaper to get a nice tattoo. And I do know this guy in LA."

Lance nodded. Justin said, "But whatever you want. Like, I'm not saying this to be all 'please remove that stupid tattoo because it makes me feel like a dork whenever I see it.' Like, not that."

Lance nodded again, but the position of Justin's hand was pretty familiar. Lance realized that Justin always covered the tattoo when they were together, like this, having sex and all that. He sighed and stretched out on the rumpled sheets and their hands fell away.

He went to Justin's great guy in LA. He pulled down his shorts and his underwear enough for the guy to see the tattoo. The guy looked like a Hells Angel gone tired. He said, "Hmm. Cover up that?"

Lance nodded. The guy said, "I tell people, you know, don't put shit on your body unless the people are blood. Family may screw you over, but you can't ever get rid of them." Lance nodded again, he knew this, people telling him he was stupid.

The guy stared again and said, "What's your sign? Like, Virgo? Like that?"

"Taurus." Lance's hand was a little damp, holding his shorts and underwear down.

"That's a good answer." The guy nodded. "I'll do a bull. Won't see a thing of this, a big black bull."

Lance said, "I was in a bullfight once." He blinked and looked down. The guy shaved where the tattoo was, careful, even though there really wasn't hair there. He cleaned the area and then turned to his needles.

"You need to just take off the underwear and shorts." Lance nodded and the guy couldn't even see him.

Lance held his dick and balls in his hand as well as he could while the guy bent down and started the outline. It just hurt. Chris and Justin had once had this whole conversation about the buzz of tattoos, the adrenaline of it. Lance had only felt that once, the flame all those years ago. This one just hurt. After a few minutes, the guy's knuckles brushed Lance's hand. He looked up and said, "Okay, you gotta let go. I'm not gonna hit 'em and you know, I don't care about your junk. I've seen a lot, okay? And I don't care if you get hard, I know it's just the needle."

Lance moved his hand and closed his eyes. He didn't get hard, he hated the needle. He hated being here, hated the tattoo. It hurt most where the old tattoo was and Lance knew that didn't make sense, but he was sure of it. It took an hour. He looked at the new tattoo and thought he'd be the only one who could trace the original in the blocks of black and patterns forming the bull. He didn't smile, but he listened to the same taking care of his tattoo lecture he'd heard before, heard a year before in fact, and tipped the guy generously.

He saw Justin two days later and Justin cocked his head and stared. "Wow, you can't even see the other one. Isn't he great?"

Lance nodded. "You really can't."

Justin grinned. "I can do the lotion part. I want to." Justin patted the lotion on the tattoo. It still only ached where the original was, under all the other ink. Justin said, "I like it. I know you don't much, but I think it's nice. It's like, moving on and saying, okay, mistakes were made, and I'm too smart to make them again." Justin grinned and Lance liked to see that, so he smiled back.

*

The album's done. Justin and JC's best writing ever, Lance's sure. He loves everything they've done and he loves it all, but he loves this the most. He's just plain happy. He's happy that Justin is almost back to the full health and they haven't had any real problems since the Joey thing and all that was fine after a day.

He's pretty sure that the other shoe is about to drop, of course. He's not stupid; he knows things don't go well like this without something going wrong. They're all holed up in the Chateau Marmont for interviews, with the CD done done and the first single about to drop. Justin keeps a stone face in every interview and doesn't flinch from the questions about being sick, the new Britney questions now that her album is out. But he looks tired all the time. At least they're all there to distract him. And it's not like they don't all have things to talk about. Well, except Chris. But he talks enough; it's hard to notice.

Lance smiles and plays with his key and opens his door. His little chateau. Justin is sitting up, rubbing his face and curled in a ball on the couch. "Hey, you." Lance leans down and kisses Justin's cheek. Justin moves away from him, just a little. Lance says, "What's wrong?"

"Where were you?" Justin keeps looking at his hands.

"I was, interview, I was finishing up with the chick from the Guardian. She's a complete bitch, you know, I was just trying, I dunno. Also, that's not an answer. What's wrong?" Lance stands up straight and stops himself from backing up.

"I'm just tired. I'm tired and all the interviews are pissing me off." Justin buries his face in his hands. He sighs and looks up, and he puts his hands in his lap. Lance feels himself go cold, like a premonition. This won't be good. Justin says, "And, also, could you tone down all that shit about how much you love JC's album? It sounds like you want get down and blow him right there."

Lance backs up. "So, wait, it was Joey and now it's JC? Or am I misunderstanding you?"

"No, you've nailed that. I just wish you wouldn't, you wouldn't fucking put it in my face every day how much you're not in love with me at all." Justin spits out, like he's about to puke.

Lance backs up again and clenches his hands. "Excuse me? Are you fucking mental?"

"You never say it. You don't. You're just, I get it. Okay?"

"Okay? No, it's not. I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with you. Are you nuts? You actually think --" Lance stops. He standing in ice, he's sure of it. He's so angry he can't see straight. "What the fuck, Justin?"

"I notice you're not saying it now. I mean, you never say it."

"What would be the fucking point now? I say it and then you come back that I just said it because you made me and you decide it doesn't mean anything because apparently nothing else has made it clear to you." Lance breathes. It's a conscious thing that he has to think to do. "If you're so fucking convinced that I'm not in love with you, why the fuck are you with me? Why do you think I'm with you?"

"I think," Justin stares at Lance and just stops. Then he looks back at his hands and says, "I think you're with me because you like me and the sex is good and --"

"And those six weeks you weren't supposed to have sex?"

"You'd have to be pretty fucking heartless to leave me then and you're not." Justin pauses. "I know you're not. And I stay with you because I love you and I keep thinking, if I do this right, you'll love me. But --"

Lance almost screams, but he stops himself. "Are you listening to yourself? Do you know how fucked up you sound? Do you actually think this shit?"

Justin just stares. Lance grabs his keys and leaves. He slams the door and walks until he finds himself at Chris's door. He thinks about knocking but the door opens while he's debating it. Chris says, "What are you doing here?"

Lance licks his lips. "I was talking to Justin and he thinks I don't love him because I've never said it."

Chris presses his lips together. "Is it worthwhile to offer some kind of distracting video game thing?"

Lance shrugs. "I don't think so."

"So, wait, this was a bad argument? Are you guys breaking up?"

Lance shrugs and presses his fingers against his lips. Chris says, "Okay, you wanna just come in and be in a Justin-free zone a little? We can switch rooms."

Lance walks in and sits on the couch while Chris grabs some clothes and a book. Lance says, "Thanks."

Chris says, "No problem. Just, um. You know, he's a little nuts lately? I know you know that, but I just think, you know, sometimes he says shit he doesn't mean. He's still figuring out things now that he knows he's not immortal."

Lance says, "Some things he shouldn't have to figure out, I think."

Chris nods and closes the door.

Lance goes into the bedroom and stretches out on the bed. He can't exactly leave since Chris, he's pretty sure, took his key with him.

He's asleep after tossing and turning when he feels someone get in with him. Someone Justin smelling, and Lance rolls away. Justin puts his hand on Lance's arm and says, "Please, I'm sorry."

All Lance can think is that it should be proof enough that he loves Justin that he lets him sleep next to him after this. Not only sleep with him, but lie next to him and hold him. If that isn't love to Justin, Lance is too tired to think of what might be.

*

The hospital smelled like hospitals. Lance didn't have anything deep to add to that. The sterile smell, this time, felt like a slap to Lance because wasn't the lack of sterility somewhere how he ended up there? He sat in a small room that the hospital staff set aside for them; they got their own room two hours after the doctors told Lynn that it was really serious. It was critical.

The hospital was boring. Like a dirty little secret, they all waited in their private room and took turns sitting with Justin who wasn't even really lucid and they stared at each other and were bored. Lynn cried and got up and sat back down. She was hysterical and crazed for two straight hours and then she was just quietly furious. She was angry for two and a half days, even when Justin's heart stopped and she hissed at the doctors that they had better make it right.

Once Lynn was in with Justin, holding his hand and trying to talk to him, and the rest of them were just sitting. They had to be there; it was somehow wrong to not be there, to spend too long getting lunch outside the hospital. But Lance thought over and over again that he wasn't actually doing anything. He didn't think sitting with Justin, watching him thrash and cry or just lie there, he didn't think his presence was helpful. JC wrote something and balled it up and threw the paper in the trashcan. Joey looked up and almost smiled. He said, "Three points, right?"

Chris said, "That was definitely a field goal." Chris balled up a page from the newspaper and threw it at the trashcan. It went in with one bounce. "Now we're tied."

Joey threw a ball and missed, Lance threw and made it and then they were playing basketball, or some demented version from their seats. Trace joined in on JC's team and Paul decided to be neutral. They were in the midst of it, scavenging for more paper with Chris's team having a slight lead, when Lynn and a nurse walked in. She blinked and said, "Did someone want to sit with Justin?"

She wasn't mad, for once, it was nice. But they all looked down, guilty. Chris stood up and said he'd sit with Justin. Lynn bent down and picked up a stray ball that hadn't hit the trashcan.

He wanted to fly away. He didn't want to be there. He lingered over their meals out, played with his food that he couldn't even taste. He couldn't do anything at all. None of them could. They were just there because Justin might die and no one wanted to be somewhere else. Lance didn't want to dwell on it but he had nothing else to do.

He'd been with Justin for the last show and then Justin had said his stomach hurt. Justin's gardener was the one who said it might be appendicitis. Lance had driven him to the hospital while Justin had whined and said it wasn't anything bad.

When he was diagnosed, the doctor had said it was good they'd come in when they did, a few more hours and Justin's appendix would have burst. It could have been really bad. It felt hollow and tasted like sand to Lance when he sat in a corridor and played with his cell phone, carefully turned off.

He sat in corridors and he sat in their private room and he sat with Justin. When the doctor first started talking about how serious everything was, Lynn stepped forward and blocked Lance from hearing. Paul tugged on her arm so they could all hear. People started calling six hours after Justin took his turn for the worse, ten minutes after it hit the news. Lynn said, "I don't want all these people. I just don't."

Paul said, "We should decide. You know?" He patted Lynn's arm and he looked at Lance.

Lynn said, "Lance?"

Lance said, "Just Brit, let's not ..." Lynn nodded. Brit wore dark purple and Lance pictured her trying to find just the right outfit to wear to wait at what might be her first love's death. But it wouldn't be, it would just be moments of monotony. Britney took Lance's hand and lead him outside, to the roof. He mostly hoped she'd sneak him a cigarette. She hugged him, instead and murmured something against his arm. Lance was pretty sure people kept expecting him to cry. He wondered if there was something wrong with him that he hadn't.

Lance said, "Any chance I can bum a smoke?"

Britney almost smiled. Lance thought there was a lot of that going around. In the private room, they switched the channels from sitcoms to the news, because someone might laugh. Britney said, "I didn't bring a pack."

Lance looked over the roof and spotted photographers. He thought, typical. He wanted nothing more than to fly away. He'd walk down and walk out and leave and they could all just call him when things went one way or the other. At least he could just watch Friends and not feel like a traitor.

Instead they walked back down to the private room and waited and waited.

Lance hated every minute he spent at the hospital but everyone says that, so he doesn't.

*

They never told anyone when they got serious. Joey knew pretty quickly and Chris knew because Justin told him, Lance assumed. Lance went to JC's place in LA and tried to think of the right way to say, "Woohoo! Fucking Justin! I think things are good!" He thought just saying it might be tacky.

JC sat down next to Lance on the couch and said, "Do you like Tori Amos?"

Lance just made a face.

"I was just, okay, it was maybe a bad idea because sometimes I think I shouldn't listen to other music when I'm recording and working, because it interferes with the vibe, but last night, I just couldn't sleep and, man, I listened to all her albums, right in a row. It was really fascinating."

Lance nodded. He thought that this might be the time to artfully mention Justin, but he opened his mouth and JC started talking again.

"People, I've read all these things about how the first album, Little Earthquakes, and they're wrong. See, it's about standing up for yourself, every song almost; it's about knowing yourself and loving yourself. Like, Winter -- when you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do?" JC grinned and patted Lance's knee. He sprang up and started rifling through his CDs.

"JC, I wanted to tell you something."

JC nodded and said, "Right, right, and I'm gonna just give you all these CDs. You should listen to them, I think you might like them."

"Right, so, um, JC, me and Justin?"

JC sat down next to Lance again and pressed five or six CDs into Lance's lap. "Oh."

"So, you know, we're sort of seeing each other." Lance nodded.

"Sort of or ..." JC was paying complete attention.

"I think, um, not sort of." Lance clutched the CDs.

"Oh." JC nodded. Lance and JC had never dated. They'd never even come close. Lance didn't know exactly know why, but he knew he'd wanted them to, for a long time. And then they hadn't and then Lance had had that first real relationship with someone who probably never thought all his friends should listen to his favorite music. JC said, "That's good. You and Justin."

Lance said, "I hope so."

"No, it is." JC leaned over and kissed Lance's cheek. He stood up again and said, "You and Justin, I bet you'll be good for each other."

*

They're doing interviews. Right now, it's a female reporter from a newspaper in the Midwest. Lance sits back in his chair and thanks God it isn't TV. He can just sit back and not make appropriate faces. They all enthuse and say happy things about being together again, how easy the recording was, all the new stuff they were bringing to it. Lance thinks, first time we had a threesome while we were recording. First time he got to go home to Justin. He's not going to say that, of course.

She starts on the questions about Justin being sick. Joey makes a face and says, "You know, it just really sucked. We're all really glad Justin is better."

She says, "I read that your heart stopped," and she looks at Justin.

Justin shrugs. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything from the hospital." He doesn't look complacent.

Joey says, "Lance was there, when Justin's heart stopped."

Justin doesn't look surprised, but he has his hand on Lance's knees and he's suddenly squeezing. Lance blinks and says, "I don't -- you know, I don't remember." Lance looks down at the table. "I don't want to talk about. It was just scary and I'm really glad Justin's better." Justin squeezes Lance's knee again.

The reporter drops it, but she's good, and Lance knows it will come up again. She'll come back to it. There isn't anything to say, really, more than what they've said. They're glad Justin's better. It was really scary. It's not even the words handed down and polished by the publicist; it's just the truth. It's nobody's business if there's more than that.

She looks down at her sheets of paper and grins. "Okay, I know, I'm not supposed to ask, but, why don't you want to talk about the Quebecois separatist movement?"

Everyone starts laughing and Lance just smirks.

When the interviews for the day are all done, Lance goes back to his room. He empties his pockets and sits down on his bed. He's still mad at Justin, he thinks. So they slept in the same bed, so Justin made some half-assed apology. It just sucks.

The door turns and Justin comes in. "I still have your key." He doesn't smile.

"Yup."

"Want me to give it back?"

Lance shrugs. Justin frowns and sits down on the floor in front of Lance. "I don't want to. I mean, I'm really sorry."

"Yeah." Lance looks down at Justin's feet.

Justin leans his head against Lance's knees. "Did I tell you I was seeing that shrink? The one my trainer told me about?" Lance grunts. "It wasn't worth much at the beginning. I think I was just treating it like an interview. But I've been talking to her more since, um, that thing with Joey. Um, actually talking."

"Did you tell her that you think I don't love you because I've never said the fucking words?"

Justin flinches. "I told her about the fight. She implied that I'm being sort of stupid. I mean, I think I knew that. I did know that. I don't believe that shit, I usually don't. Don't think," Justin looks up at Lance. "Don't think I don't know how you feel."

"You said you didn't."

Justin sits up and puts his hands on Lance's knees. "I was just being stupid. I was just." Justin sighs. "Okay, see, here's the thing? My shrink actually says I'm really well adjusted. She's all surprised. She thinks I'm pretty together. But this whole, you know, being sick and weak and almost dying, as healthy as I am, just kind of threw me off my game. And made me doubt things I should know better."

Lance nods.

Justin says, "You never, uh, you never said you were there when I was dead."

"You weren't dead. Your heart stopped, it was only for, like, 50 seconds. They started it right back up." Lance lies back on the bed. "I mean, do you care about this story?"

Justin scoots up on the bed. "I do."

"It's not. It's not a story. I was in, sitting with you. Which was really sort of pointless, because you weren't even lucid. Like, you called me Trace, and Lance and Mike, and I don't even know who Mike is. And I was holding your hand and you said 'I didn't mean it' and then you gripped my hand really hard and then your eyes rolled back in your head and you passed out. And then all the alarms went off and I hit the call button and the doctors came in. They just pushed me up against the wall." Lance pauses and closes his eyes again.

"I don't really remember it. I mean, I remember looking at your feet. It was all I could see. And I was thinking about how it was like a scene from ER, and now, I think, when I think about it, I think I'm just remembering a scene from ER and not what really happened. I didn't really see much. I wasn't, um, I wasn't thinking about our forever love and I wasn't -- I was just thinking 'I didn't mean it' were really shitty last words."

Justin hugs him. He says, "I have no idea what I was talking about."

"Yeah, I figured." Lance pats Justin's arm. "I didn't think you meant anything. It wasn't, it didn't mean anything."

Justin says, "You're really good for me. You know? I'm sorry I acted all stupid."

Lance says, "That's nice to hear. I don't, how am I good for you?"

"You know, when I was all crazy, um, you know, like last night, so maybe not 'was,' but you always make me feel better. Um, stronger." Justin kisses Lance's ear. "You know?"

Lance laughs. "You make me feel smart."

"I'll try to act more stupid."

"No, I mean, not like that." Lance sighs. "Just, you know, in a very stupid year, I don't feel stupid with you." Lance turns so he can touch Justin's cheek. "If I say I love you now, would you believe me?"

Justin nods.

Lance says, "I love you."

"I didn't, I knew that." Justin smiles. "So I can keep getting the key to your room? It's okay?"

"We're okay." Lance traces Justin's lips with his thumb. "Shouldn't we have sex now? How does that strike you?"

Justin sits up and grins. "I was, in fact, last I heard, born to make you happy."

"First I heard," Lance says, smiling. He takes off his shirt. "I mean, I heard -- I'm not making any sense."

"Eh." Justin leans in and tugs at Lance's belt. "You make sense to me."

She's saving me I don't really think she knows it
It's a strange way to show it as distant as last night's dream unravels

THE END

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