Notes: Title again from The Holy Childhood. Thanks to Lily again!
FAT TUESDAY EVERYDAY!
Lance has work to do. He always has work to do and he loves the calls and decisions and conferences. He sits in a hotel room, on his third conference call, hunched over his laptop. Justin sits behind him, draped over his shoulders. Lance talks on the phone and Justin burrows into Lance's shoulders and neck. It's not annoying. Lance thinks he's never felt more on top of everything, more on his game than right now.
He knows the conversation needs to end. He makes a joke about remembering that double entry bookkeeping doesn't mean keeping two sets of books. It's been an hour and Justin will get antsy in a few minutes. After the joke and quick good byes, he winds up, puts the phone down and closes his laptop. Justin lifts his head and starts kissing Lance's neck. Lance turns around and Justin grins, his hands on Lance's belt. He loosens Lance's jeans enough to slip a hand inside and he wraps his fingers around Lance's cock. Lance emits a guttural sound, bites his lip and then Justin's, but pulls away. "Hi." Justin grins again, blindingly and beautifully. "Joey's out there," Lance says softly. Justin shrugs and sinks into an overstuffed chair. "Okay. I want to taste you, man. I want you. But if Joey's out there, I guess we can't do anything." Lance feels himself grow stiff against his jeans. He moves to the door and locks it quickly. Justin's shoved him down in the chair with quick gesture and sat on top of him before Lance can open his mouth. He arches his neck as Justin kisses his neck and grabs his cock. Lance says, between gasps, "It's not, it's not ... I think Joey's pretty clear on what's going on ..." Justin's got one hand cupping Lance's ass while the other is jerking him off and for a moment, Lance can't quite figure how to form words. He breathes in as Justin moves from kissing his neck to removing Lance's shirt with his teeth. Lance remembers what he wanted to say. "There's something to be said ... to be said for being ... discreet." Justin mutters "shut up," and kisses Lance hard, all tongue. Lance is tugging at Justin's baggy jeans when they hear Justin's pager go off. It buzzes and buzzes. Justin ignores the sound, intent on his task. Lance smiles into the kiss. Lance is brushing his teeth in the bathroom after they're both done when he hears Justin say "fuckin' bitch" softly and then, even softer, "Brit. What is it now?" Lance brushes slower and leans close to the crack in the door. He hears the conversation from Justin's end, hears the ice in Justin's voice melt, hears Justin call her "baby girl" and say, "don't cry." Lance smacks at the faucet. The water runs loud and strong, and Lance splashes some onto his face after he spits. There's an appearance that afternoon at a record store in Portland. The place is packed as usual with pre-teen girls wearing clothes that are too tight and older girls crying off their makeup. Lance sits between Justin and JC, right in the middle of the table. Halfway through the autograph session, JC's foot wanders over and his ankle wraps around Lance's. Justin does not touch Lance at all. A girl asks Justin if he and Britney are getting married. Justin says no abruptly. The girl looks shocked and then Justin looks up quickly and says, "We're pretty young to be thinking about that, don't you think?" He has the sweet fan smile in place and the girl laughs and moves on. Lance looks back down at the photo in front of him, signing mechanically. Justin says very softly, "Lance. Dude." Lance feels Justin's hand brush his. Under the table, Lance shakes off JC's foot. Justin and JC are on either side of him and they both sigh. Justin sounds tired and JC sounds resigned. Justin comes into Lance's hotel room that night and leans against the door. "Look. You know I can't, dude." Justin looks down. "I'm not stupid." He says it vehemently. Lance smoothes the blanket over his chest and says nothing. Justin inhales sharply. "I'm not stupid. And the thing with Brit." Justin sags against the door, looking tired. Lance stares at the ceiling. "She still fucking that dancer?" Justin snorts. "Yeah. And Tina's a real handful ..." Lance sits up. "Tina? Britney's fucking a girl?" Lance knows he must look like an idiot, eyes wide like a cartoon drawing of surprise. Justin sits down on the edge of the bed, laughing. "Dude, you are so out of it. Yeah, she's been fucking Tina since before you and me ... you know." Lance reaches over and rubs Justin's neck. "Man. Your girlfriend has a girlfriend. Heh." Justin leans into Lance's hand then pulls back abruptly. "Oh! Dude, I forgot. I got you a present." Lance laughs hard. "Right, man." "Seriously. Look." Justin produces a stuffed dog from his pocket, a brown and white spaniel. "It's cute, huh?" "It is." Lance takes it and opens the heart-shaped tag. "'It's not easy being King,'" he reads. "'I just want to do my thing. I would rather jump and play than sit on my throne today.' You know what? I'm naming him Justin." Justin makes a face at Lance and tries to snatch the toy away, but Lance holds it high above his head. Justin reaches for it, scooting higher onto the bed until he's straddling Lance. Lance pushes the small of his back into the mattress and pushes his hips up until they meet Justin's. He feels Justin's weight lower and settle, and he flicks his tongue against Justin's throat until he feels Justin's fingers in his hair. Lance tosses the toy onto the floor and pushes the blankets away. It takes a minute or two, but soon they are both naked and tangled up on the bed. It's one of those nights, Lance thinks, when they can just be. He lies on his stomach and Justin thrusts into him like a jackrabbit. They come almost simultaneously. Justin lies there for a moment, still inside Lance, and breathes softly against Lance's neck. As Justin walks back to bed from the bathroom, he throws the toy dog at Lance. "You really gonna keep it?" Lance looks up at Justin, arms crossed across his chest, naked and standing in the middle of the room. "Lord, Justin, you look nice." Justin rolls his eyes and doesn't move. Lance smiles. "I'll keep it forever. My beloved Justin," he says and snuggles the toy against him. Justin gets into the bed. The next day Justin has to go to this thing with Britney. "Keeping up appearances, you know?" He jabs Lance in the shoulder and promises to fly back on a redeye that night. Lance isn't that surprised when he wakes up alone and finds out from Lonnie that Justin will be back in the afternoon. Lonnie gives Lance some juice, too, and he drinks it out on the balcony. He leans back in his chair and lets his feet rest on the wrought iron. The wind is cool, but comfortable, and it smells like rain. "Hey." Lance turns his head at the sound of JC's voice and sees JC standing in the doorway, clad only in basketball shorts and soccer sandals. "Morning." He nods at the juice. "What's in that?" "Pulp. Dude, go talk to Joey." JC takes the glass from Lance's hand and swallows. "Sorry. Justin still gone?" "He'll be back today." "Oh." JC sits next to Lance and falls quiet. "C, what do you want?" "I'm not -- I haven't been nice to Chris, huh?" Lance chuckles bitterly. "You've been an absolute fuck to Chris." "Yeah." His voice is quiet and his eyes are on his hands. "I don't know what to do." "Act like a person." Lance takes the glass back. JC looks at the horizon for a long minute. He rubs his eyes quickly as he stands. "Thanks, man." He slips past Lance and his fingers graze Lance's shoulder before he goes back inside and the sound of his footsteps recedes. They have a show to do and Justin just squeaks into town in time for the sound check. And then they're the hardest working band in show business and there's no time to talk or not talk. During a costume change, Lance notices Justin's acquired a hickey on his back. Chris hisses at him. "Hurry the fuck up, Bass." Chris is scowling every moment the camera's not rolling these days. JC's first dressed as always, almost relaxing against the door, watching Chris with a confused, if compassionate, expression. Lance scrambles into the pants and runs back to the stage. "I hate these fucking pants," he says as he runs. Justin looks back at him, his face pale under the sweat and make-up. After the show, they all go straight to the bus. Lance starts working on business stuff in the lounge while Joey and Chris play cards. JC tries to join the game but Chris scowls at him until JC decides to go to bed early. Then Justin walks in, showered and smelling of soap. He sits across from Lance. Joey and Chris leave quickly. Chris stares at Lance and mouths the word fucker. Lance looks back at his laptop. "So." Justin says and then purses his lips. "Justin." Lance rubs his forehead. "Justin. We don't have to do this." Justin slaps his hand on the table. He stands up and walks away. Then he turns and looms over Lance. "Look. Lance." Justin rubs his face and drops his hands. "I knew you were fucking JC and here's the thing. I like it when you're disappointed in me." Lance leans back in his chair. He can't stop himself from sneering when he says, "That's good." "Man, fuck. Look. I'm not stupid. I'm not. And I know, I know I can get away with ... It's like in that movie, when Brando runs a restaurant and they serve only endangered animals? I know I could get in there, if a restaurant like that exists. I could get people fired, you know? People who don't work for us, I mean. Like waitresses or whatever. But you -- you're not like all those people. You always expect me to act better. You know?" Lance just nods. Justin is talking a mile a minute. Justin inhales sharply again. "So. When you were fucking JC, you weren't even disappointed in me, anymore. And I want that. I want you to be expecting things of me. So. So, you should be mad at me." Justin falls onto the couch and covers his face with his hands. "Cause you fucked Britney again?" Lance says. Lance rubs his hands on his thighs and watches Justin sit on the couch. "I fucked Britney. I, also I did some coke. And drank a lot. I was, like, Enquirer boy." Justin takes his hands away from his face and pulls on his fingers. "Justin, you know what? I'm not disappointed in you at all. I expect this shit from you." He twists his watch around on his wrist. "You probably do." "I do. I do, Justin, and honest to God, I'm the fucking idiot here because I keep coming back for it." Justin half-grins. "Britney said the same thing." "Fucking seriously, bro, do not compare me to Britney." He stops grinning. "When did you start swearing?" "When did you start acting like a such a goddamned prick?" Lance stands and begins pacing. "You just -- dude, I hate Britney. She's this little bratty girl and dude, she can't sing. But she loves you and you treat her so bad. So bad." Justin tries to shrug and looks at the floor. "She doesn't care." "You don't care and you don't fucking know anything." "I don't love her." "Liar." "I love you." "Liar." Justin stands up suddenly and shouts "Shut up!" He is standing only a few inches from Lance and his face softens. "Shit, Lance. It's all you. I loved Britney, like, once. It's all you, man. I'm sorry I was an asshole." Justin reaches out and strokes Lance's cheek. Lance thinks it feels like Justin's fingers are trailing fire as they touch him. The bus suddenly rumbles to a stop. Lance turns away from Justin and walks to the front. "What's going on?" JC, Chris and Joey trail behind Justin. The driver stands up and walks to the door. "We're gonna get gas and have a stop here. I need to eat, man, look it up in the contract." The five of them stare at each other. JC looks like he hasn't slept in days. Chris's permanent frown makes him look ten years older. Justin is panting and pale. Joey looks at them all, at however Lance looks now, and says, "Fuck. You guys all look rode hard and put away wet." He grins. Chris starts laughing. JC looks around, confused. "I'm just tired." Chris claps him on the shoulder. "Damn, JC. Let's get some fucking crappy-ass food at this middle of fucking nowhere place. You need to gain some weight." JC follows him out of the bus, smiling at the way Chris smiled at him. Joey says food sounds good and rubs Lance shoulder as he leaves. Justin stands behind Lance and doesn't move. Lance rubs his eyes. He looks back, past Justin to the bus and the lounge. There are clothes thrown everywhere and crumpled up napkins on the floor by dirty paper plates. Half-read magazines are stacked haphazardly on top of the DVD player. Lance wants to spend a couple of hours and clean everything, vacuum the rug, scrub every surface. He wants to go to sleep and wake up in the middle of nowhere and never see Justin again. He wants to fuck Justin until they both fall asleep exhausted and sated. "Lance. You hungry?" Justin speaks casually, almost, and Lance knows Justin's bluffing. Justin wants to pretend they've finished this conversation. Lance rubs his eyes again. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat." Justin walks past Lance and Lance follows him out. Justin only looks back at Lance once. The diner is empty, cleared out by security. Lance feels foolish, like a fraud. Restaurants are supposed to be cleared out for the President, not five artificial pussies in shiny clothes. And even the President, Lance thinks, lets the fans stick around and say hi. They all sit in the same booth. Lance is reminded of baby chickens, how they're flown cross-country, all in the same little box. When the box is opened and the chicks are free, they still move about in a huddled mass. At this second, Lance hates JC and Justin and tolerates Chris and Joey, but he doesn't know how he'd get along without them. Chris takes his coffee black, which still surprises Lance. Justin gets tea for his voice, tea and honey, but the rest of them get soda. The waitress can't be older than seventeen, and her hands shake while she writes down their orders until Justin reaches up and takes her hands in his. He says something to her and Lance tries not to listen, but after a minute she starts writing again and her hands aren't shaking anymore. Lance orders pancakes. Lance watches the waitress put in their order and wonders why someone so young is working a shift at three am. He remembers when Justin was even younger than her, and worked more hours. He shakes his head and sips his soda. Chris is telling a long, involved story about some guy he went to high school with named Damien who had a tattoo on his calf. "Before everyone had tats, man," Chris says. He leans forward and talks about how Damien was rumored to be all tough. "He worked at Little Sleaze-r's and people would not order their pizza cause they thought Damien spat in all the pizzas." Joey looks at Chris and lifts an eyebrow. "He spat in pizza? And he had a tattoo? That constituted tough at your school?" Joey giggles. He coughs and says "pussy" at the same time. Justin leans back in the booth, grinning. Justin, Lance knows, has no high school stories. Lance had a few years, at least, to be normal. To be forced to read and learn. Justin's not stupid, not really. It's just that no one ever made him rewrite a paper and he never got a C that meant he might not get into college. Lance wonders idly if Justin would have learned more, grown more if he hadn't been in the band. But he would still have been pretty. He would still have grown up tall and flexible and lithe. Lance sighs. Justin would have been a pampered athlete and maybe now he would be in some college, scamming on sorority girls and still finding people to clean up after him just to see Justin's best smile. JC grins at Chris and says, "I would have been scared. It's gross to get pizza with spit in it." Chris laughs and agrees. The waitress brings their food and walks away quickly. They eat and leave. Lance is pretty sure he hears JC climb into Chris's bunk when they get back. Lance gets into his bunk and Justin climbs in behind him. He just looks at Lance, supplication in his gaze. Lance wonders what Justin would have majored in, if he went to college. Justin falls asleep next to Lance, one arm draped over Lance. In the morning, Britney calls. Justin talks to her for an hour, curled around the phone on the couch. Chris and JC stay in Chris's bunk even after the other three bang around making another breakfast for themselves. Joey turns on a cd and turns it up loud. Lance looks away from the window and says, "Dude. You don't need to wake them up." Joey is standing closer to the bunks and he snorts. "I'm not trying to wake them up. I'm trying to drown them out, dude." Lance looks at Justin, still on the phone with Britney. Justin laughs and says, "Never again, bitch. I am not doing that ever again." Lance goes to stand, but Justin grabs his hand and holds it. They hold each other's gazes and Justin raises Lance's hand to his lips. "Brit," he says. "I gotta go." He can hear her voice on the other end, hear her pitch get higher and her volume rise. Justin curses at her and Lance pulls his hand away. Joey hands Lance a piece of toast, almost dropping it because he's got his eyes closed, head nodding and shoulders moving back and forth to "Turn The Page". Lance makes a face at the toast. He sets it down on the counter and throws the cupboards open. "Dude." Lance turns. Justin raises his eyebrows and tosses the peanut butter at Lance. "Thanks." He spreads it on the toast and thinks about the girl in the diner. Maybe the fault doesn't lie entirely with Justin. Justin likes it when Lance is disappointed in him but Lance thinks that he might like to be disappointed in Justin. Maybe that's the reason he puts up with everything. He wonders if that's true while hoping that it's not and suspecting that it is. He feels suddenly and deeply ashamed of himself. Justin told him once that he does a lot of things but he doesn't lie to Lance. It's true, Lance knows, and that has to count for something.Lance takes his toast and sits at the table next to Justin, who's now off the phone and picking at a Pop-Tart. He rises slightly in his seat and kisses Justin's cheek. Justin smiles one of his smiles and Lance eats the toast, and they both grin at JC and Chris when they roll out of bed at noon.
THE END.
Onto the sequel, Narragannsett Night Life
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