NOTES & DISCLAIMERS: Happy birthday to the wonderful Chased_Amy. All made up. For entertainment only. Title from Sonic Youth. Thanks to Kel, Younger and Tiffany.

CONFUSION IS LOVE

Pink kisses Lance at a party in full view of three photographers right after she says, "You're completely gay, aren't you?" She uses tongue. She pulls back after the first flash of light and keeps her hand on his chest. She says, "I hear from everyone you're gay."

Lance looks down at her and her big mouth. He says, "People say a lot of things."

She laughs and kisses his cheek and drifts away, pulled by the crowd. He wonders what the fuck is up with her. He wonders what message she's sending and to whom. Or, if there were no message at all, why she would be kissing him.

*

She calls him the next day and says, "You want to go shopping with me? Get out of your house and have some fun?"

Lance says, "Okay." He's not going to turn down some free publicity even if he has no idea what is up with her. Free publicity with a girl doesn't come his way every day.

She meets him at a mall, one of those upscale ones in Los Angeles, and Lance used to keep track of all of them. He used to spend a lot of time thinking about the right places to be seen, at which mall he'd end up getting photographed by the Enquirer and which by the Star. Now, maybe at last, after last year, he doesn't give a fuck. But it's big and open air and she grabs his hand as they walk from store to store. She talks loudly, she always does, he remembers from when she opened for them.

She talks about this and that store and she doesn't go into that one anymore because they were shits to her stylist. And that one is so fucking over-priced. Lance makes her stop when they get to a nice men's store and walks in. She's still holding his hand and he can't think of the right way to ask why.

He starts looking at the pants and she lets go, drifts away. Both their bodyguards stand at the doorway, talking quietly, their eyes forward. Lance looks at gray pants, and thinks they're cut all wrong for him. They'd look better on Justin, who has no ass.

Pink comes back and holds up a shirt. She says, "Dude, try this on. It would look great on you."

It's a little too JC for him, not quite right. But he shrugs and says, "Okay." He takes it and finds other pants, ones that he would look good in. Pants and the weird shirt in hand, he walks to the back of the store. A salesman fawns over him for a minute and leads him to changing room. Pink follows, chewing her gum.

She says, "Can I come in? I wanna see the shirt and I don't want you just telling me it's not right." She just looks at him. He blinks and nods.

She sits on the little bench while he takes off his shirt and hangs it carefully. She says, quietly for once, "You're so gay."

"I don't want my shirt to get all wrinkled."

She tells him he has a nice ass as he steps into the pants. They do fit well. She says, "You oughta get those. You look pretty hot."

Lance says, "Thanks for your vote." He grins, because she is fun to be with. Sort of. In a completely confusing way.

She puts the shirt on him, and buttons it up. She caresses his chest and says, "This looks hot. You have to get it, I'll pay."

He thinks it looks loud. Something Joey would wear and they'd all regret later, or JC would wear and accessorize with pants with flowers on them. He rolls his eyes. "You can pay for it, but I don't know that I'll wear it."

She says, "Wear it out and I'll take it off you in the car on the way home." She winks and walks out.

So he rides home with her, her bags in the trunk along with his. She bought cheap pants and silly earrings at the teenie store. The bodyguards followed them all the time and they only had to sign a few autographs. She was the one they mainly wanted, and he's not bothered by it. He only bought the pants. She paid for the shirt. She slides over and sits on his lap, straddling him. She's skinny, like JC, he thinks. Strong, too, and her hands smooth down the shirt. It's soft, at least.

She says, "Are you seeing anyone? Some hot guy?"

He answers honestly. "Nothing serious."

She kisses him again. She says, "You're hot." He kisses her back and pulls her closer. She rocks against him and they make out until the car gets to his house.

As he gets out she asks him to dinner the next day.

*

Justin stretches, lean and elongated. Lance wraps himself around Justin's chest and Justin rests his arms on Lance's shoulders. Justin says, "Are you dating her now?"

Lance shrugs. Sore, he thinks. Justin always fucks with all his might.

Justin says, "You kissed her."

"She kissed me." He kissed back, but Lance is pretty sure that's not Justin's business.

Justin says, "What about, you know."

Lance thinks about getting out of bed. "Don't tell me you're about to say 'us.'"

Justin's quiet. Lance says, "She asked me if I was seeing anyone."

Justin says, "What did you say?"

"I told her the truth. No one at all." Lance does get out of bed and Justin still doesn't say anything.

*

They go to a premiere and she holds his hand again. She tugs him closer for all the pictures. Standing on her tiptoes even in her high heels, she nibbles on his ear. She says, "Did you ever fuck that guy? The one over there in the stupid pants? I hear he's gay, too."

He lifts her at the waist and kisses her. She grins and he says, "I don't even know that guy."

They go to a party that In-Style is sponsoring. Something about cancer, and she wears an actual dress. It's ripped on the hem and she pulls at her thong through the rough fabric. She makes him laugh a lot, she can't stop talking about everyone she sees. That one has fake tits for sure, that one is pretty but would be better without the nose job. That one is supposedly fucking his babysitter.

Lance adds in the things he knows or he's heard, much more quietly than her. But it's fun. The pictures look good the next day.

They have sex on what he guesses is their seventh date. They've been making out all the time. He decides it's Pavlovian, she asks him if he's gay, he puts his hands in her panties. It never seems to settle the question with her. After another party with photographers, because they never go anywhere without photographers, she brings him up to her hotel room. She pulls him down on the couch and squats before him. She says, "Can you give me blowjob tips?"

He closes his eyes and she gets his pants pulled down and goes to work. He rubs her head and feels her dry hair under his palms. He says, "Who ever told you needed tips?"

After a few minutes he pulls her up on the couch and returns the favor. It's been a while since he did this, but the last girl had that same Mohawk styling down there, too. She grabs his head, pinches and starts telling him to do it harder, softer, where to put his fingers. She tugs him away before she comes and says, "You should fuck me."

He gets a condom from his wallet and does what she tells him to. It's good, really, and it's been a while since he did this, too. She bites him when she comes. He only says her name.

*

Justin says, "I guess you two are fucking now." He traces one, two bite marks on Lance's shoulder with his finger. Lance can barely tell Justin is touching him.

He says, "I guess we are. Do you care?"

"Is that what this is about?" Justin pushes Lance down on the bed, lifts Lance's legs and his fingers move in and out.

"God," Lance says, "Can we talk about this after?"

They don't, of course.

*

He goes out to dinner with her, their first date since this all started six weeks ago where there aren't photographers. She says, "You're cute, man. Your boyfriends think so?"

He doesn't lie. "I've never had a boyfriend."

Later, while they're eating dessert, he says, "You know, we're not exclusive, right?"

She grins but she looks a little hurt. "Yeah. But we're totally dating."

"Right. But I don't want you to think. Just, look, I'm seeing other people, too. Nothing that will make the papers." He watches her play with her chocolate cake. He was sixteen when he last went out with a girl who ate cake in front of him.

She finally says, "Are you fucking one of the guys in the band?"

He rolls his eyes. Her big mouth. He says, "Do you like your cake?"

She starts talking about some fight she's in with her record company and after dinner, they go back to her hotel room again and have sex.

*

She bites a lot when they have sex. Leaves marks all over him from her mouth and her hands, her short nails. Justin traces them every time they fuck, leaves his own. And then she digs her fingers into the bruises and doesn't say anything. He thinks sometimes they're leaving messages to each other on his body. And hers say "mine for now" and Lance has never known what Justin's say.

*

The publicity is really good. Pictures everywhere, articles, and Lance's publicist gets calls every day. Justin reads aloud every item he finds in the New York Post and emails things he finds on the Internet. He reads each item with an exaggerated newscaster voice and then looks up at Lance, waiting for comment. Lance doesn't say anything. For once, the tabloids get nearly everything right. He's not surprised, most everything they do is right out in the open, anyway.

*

He can take her anywhere, and she's entertaining. He doesn't understand at all what she gets out of his company, who she's sending a message to, what she's covering up. He never asks. Maybe she even likes him.

They're in New York, both of them, recording. Her record company has convinced her to do some kind of stopgap album. Remixes and b-sides and she only has to record two new songs. They're doing the new album. By some silent agreement they don't talk about anything. The only sign of the past ten months is Joey's RENT t-shirt. He takes a break one morning and turns on the radio to hear her talking to some hot morning DJ show. He turns it on and hears her voice, loud like always.

"Oh, I guess it'll be kicking, but I'm only doing it because the record company wants new product. We'll make it good so it's not a rip-off, but that was the original plan." Typical her. He grins. Joey and JC come in and sit down next to him.

Obnoxious DJ one says, "Hey, speaking of kicking, hear you and Lance Bass are kicking some stuff up lately."

JC rolls his eyes. She says, "We're not kicking, we're dating, man. He's a freakin' demon in the sack." Joey bursts out laughing and Lance covers his face.

Obnoxious DJ two says, "Whoa, I thought they were all virgins!"

She says, "Dude, I don't know about Timberlake, but Lance sure ain't. He's got the skills and some, you know, natural advantages to pleasing a woman." Joey's laughing so hard, JC walks over and turns up the radio.

Lance can't imagine anything more embarrassing. And some part of him is thinking that he's finally making Page Six without half their PR and Johnny glaring at him and he tries not to be happy about it. He looks up just as Justin walks in.

Obnoxious DJ one says, laughing, "So you're saying, are we talking Ron Jeremy here, or did I misunderstand you?"

"Oh, man," she says, "he's gonna kill me. He's much more proper than me, man, his mother really doesn't like me. I've only met her twice, you know, just stopping by his place and there she was. I mean, she's so 'it's a pleasure to meet you, Alecia,' and this look on her face like 'touch my boy and I'll kill you.' His mom's a sweetie, but she hates me, man. She can be scary."

Justin says, "Oh, god. Your mom, man." He's smirking.

Lance says, "Fuck you," and turns up the radio again. Joey's crying, he's laughing so hard.

They've talked over something because she's talking about the album again. Then she says, "So, yeah, that's me in summary, getting some good hot lovin' from the Space boy and working on this little thing and there you go, Pink update."

He walks out of the room and out to the parking lot before he opens his phone. Her voicemail kicks in immediately. "Don't you dare talk about my mother on the radio, or in print, or ever to reporters, ever. Not my mother."

*

Lance wonders if the Oepdipal complex works for gay men. He's not interested in marrying his mother. Maybe he's supposed to want to murder his mother and marry his father. But he doesn't like guys like his father. Not his type. Maybe Freud was just fucked up.

He likes pretty boys, the boys he wanted to be, once upon a time, blond and slim. Trevor from Soul Decision, a pleasure to fuck, Wade, Nick Carter for two weeks. Justin.

He likes boys who are ethereal and earthy and supermodel drop dead gorgeous, too, but he sucks at actually getting anywhere with them. Like JC.

He once had a thing for big built guys but the asshole ex ruined Lance for anything like that ever again. It's probably wrong to assume everyone with a decent set of pecs and a neck tattoo is like that. But the heart thinks one way and Lance doesn't try to change that anymore.

Justin says, "If I asked you to dump her, would you?"

Lance sits up and grabs at his clothes. "Why would you do that?"

"She's just using you, man. She's a total dyke, everyone knows that. And, maybe, you know, I don't like sharing." Justin rubs his forehead.

"But it's okay for me?" Lance gets out of the bed and starts dressing.

"What do you want from me? You want us to come out and be together forever?" Justin sounds tired and Lance is confused all over again. Pissed, he would understand, frustrated, annoyed. Tired doesn't fit.

Lance says, "I just want. I don't know, but I don't think I'm asking for much and I think you know what it is." He has his pants on and he starts to button his shirt. "If you asked me, I wouldn't dump her. You don't have that kind of power over me."

Justin says "yeah," and then "bye" as Lance leaves. In the cab over to her hotel, he tries to make the tone of that "yeah" fit in some box he can understand. Love, not on his life. Affection, possibly, exhaustion, certainly.

It's been two years of this, with Brit in the background and then a series of women Lance only sees Justin with in tabloid photos, or traces of in left behind clothes on the floor. He thinks it's too late to ask anymore what's going on. He hasn't reached the point where he doesn't care.

*

The end is loud, which is about what he'd expected from her. They come home from another party with too many photographers and she says, "Did you actually have fun? For real, for serious?"

"I had fun," he says, angry. "Do I need to tattoo on it on my forehead for you to believe me?"

"You never," she pauses and hiccups. "You never tell me shit! You never say anything. I keep trying to get in and it's like you're not even there."

"I am, in fact, right here. Standing here. Telling you I had fun, I had fun with you." He pulls off his tie and flings it across the hotel room. He thinks it's the fiftieth hotel room they've been in together.

"I don't mean just that," she wails. Actually wails. "I mean everything. You're like this fucking wall and I can't climb over and I can't even cut a hole and I have no idea who you are. You never talk to me about anything."

"What, what is there to say? I don't lie to you. But, fuck, everywhere we go there's photographers and people listening and what would I tell you anyway?"

She sniffles and wipes her eyes. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I'm tired of trying to get through to you. I don't think you even fucking exist behind, behind whatever. I think you're a goddamned robot."

He says, "I think you have a big mouth and maybe there's a reason you don't know me very well." He watches her scrub at her face with her hand, mascara in black streaks and it's not the least bit pretty. She's not naturally pretty at all, he thinks. He says, "I'm sorry. I really didn't think you cared."

She shakes her head. "This is over. Like, right now. No more of this." He hands her a tissue from the box on the table by the couch. A hotel suite. Even in the middle of all of this, he thinks she must have settled that argument with the record company if they put her up someplace this nice.

She wipes her face clean. She is pretty, and he always forgets. She says, "Up for a goodbye fuck?"

She lies down on the table and pulls at his shirt after a bruising kiss. He's pushing into her and she grunts. She shifts, sits up and tears at his shirt. She bites him when she comes, and breaks skin. He throws away the condom and dresses carefully, even with his shirt missing a button and the shoulder sticking to his new wound. She doesn't say anything, just rolls off the table.

When he leaves, he says "bye" and she says "fuck you." He's surprised how much it all hurts.

*

He gets back from lunch with his mother and Justin is naked on his hotel bed. Lance closes the door quickly and says, "What if I had brought my mother back with me?"

Justin smiles. He's reading the New York Post and he doesn't even look up. He says, "I'd say, you know, you're not going to believe it, but I was looking for the bathroom. I have the wrong room. Anyway, you didn't bring your mother back, so."

Lance leans against the table and watches Justin.

Justin puts down the paper and points to Page Six. "According to this, Pink has brought back Linda Perry for the album she's working on. Pink says they've reconciled after some disagreement five months ago." Justin looks up. "So, if you were wondering."

Lance blinks. When he opens his eyes, Justin is standing in front of him. Justin starts removing Lance's tie, pushing off his jacket gently. "Didn't you think she was using you?"

"I thought. I was just confused. Along for the ride." Justin hangs Lance's jacket on a chair. Lance says, "I didn't realize. I thought she liked me, maybe. Maybe she did, and you're wrong."

"You're pretty likeable. She probably does, man. But, for serious, you heard the rumors as much as me." Justin smiles. "Why didn't you just ask?"

Lance blinks again. His shirt is draped over the chair and Justin is lightly touching Lance's chest. Lance says, "I wouldn't. It seemed unfair to ask her questions I wouldn't answer."

Justin pushes Lance onto the bed. He pulls Lance's hands so Lance is sitting up and sits in Lance's lap. Lance kisses Justin because he likes kissing Justin. He always has. Justin says, "I've been thinking, you know, about the dreaded 'us.'"

Lance says, "Yeah?"

Justin puts his mouth over the mark from her teeth. He doesn't press, he just kisses the place, soft. Justin looks at Lance and says, "She has a big mouth."

"Yeah." Lance won't say it, so he waits.

Justin says, "Right, back to us. Us. See, this is me, saying it. Us, us, us. I've been thinking, and you know, your little romance worked. I promise. You and me, that's it."

"I didn't do it because of that." Lance lies down on the bed. "I'm not playing games with you, you know. And maybe she wasn't playing me at all and I just fucked it up. Fuck off."

"You were playing with her. It's not like you were gonna be with her forever or some shit like that." Justin doesn't move from the edge of the bed, and he's still sitting on Lance's legs.

"So what? I wasn't playing with her. I was, it wasn't a game. I didn't lie to her. And I never pretended there was some fucking us." But Lance doesn't shake off Justin.

"I'm not pretending." Justin lies down on top of Lance. "Ask me anything, man. Fine, you weren't playing me, but I decided anyway."

Lance says, "Why do you want me?"

THE END.

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