DISCLAIMERILICIOUS: So not true. Made up. Fiction.
NOTES: Thanks to Tiffany, my J-Lo, and Lily.

ONE THOUSAND DAYS

703. Lance was hot, hot for it, legs wrapped around Justin and all Justin wanted to do was thrust and fuck. Except all he could hear over their panting was the cd playing and it was the Counting Crows. He paused for a moment, heard Adam Duritz sing, "I'm not going to worry about it anymore, it seems like I should say 'As long as this is love ...'" Justin sat back and started laughing. Lance opened his eyes and sat up, leaning on his elbows. "Justin?"

"I can't -- fuck, Lance, put in another CD. This is not sexy music at all." Justin giggled and pushed Lance's legs a little. Lance rolled his eyes, flopped back on the bed and swung his legs over to the floor. Justin watched Lance walk over to the stereo, naked and hard, lube wet on his ass. And it was absurd, Justin couldn't stop giggling, as he sat on the bed with a condom on his dick, smeared with lube himself and waited for Lance to find sexier music.

Lance laughed and poked around the CDs. "Fuck, Justin, there's nothing here. Man, we have to stop fucking in Joey's room." Justin flopped down on the bed and laughed into the pillows. "Okay! New CD!" Lance laughed. "Justin, get the fuck up, it's time to resume positions."

Lance scooted back onto the bed and wrapped himself around Justin again. He kissed Justin deeply and then growled, "Fuck me, will you?"

Justin grinned and thrust as Bye, Bye, Bye started playing. He burst out laughing at the same time Lance grunted. "This is sexy?" Justin said, panting. And it was hot, Lance tight around him, but still funny. Justin laughed again and couldn't help himself from thrusting to the rhythm of the song.

"Best ... I could do," Lance said, grunting and laughing both. Then it was bright and hot and all Justin could think about over the sound of them singing and the beat was fucking and Lance's hips pushing back against him. They came and fell back on the bed somewhere around Just Got Paid. Lance poked Justin in his shoulder, rolled over on his side so he could look down at Justin. "JC told me once he couldn't fuck to our CDs."

Justin rolled against Lance, buried his head in Lance's chest. He murmured, "Maybe he can't fuck listening to himself sing. He's a perfectionist. He hears the bad parts or something."

Lance wrapped an arm around Justin, kissed his forehead. "Clearly, not a problem for you."

Justin giggled and stretched. He sang the Counting Crows song over their CD playing. Songs about love and talking and Anna begins to change her mind. Lance started to say they needed to clean up and they should get somewhere but Justin was blissed out and he spoke over Lance, said more than he meant to or thought, maybe. Justin said, "I hope we last this time, I mean I want us to last this time."

Lance stopped speaking and rolled away from Justin. Justin shook for a second, closed his eyes. Lance said quietly, "Me, too." Lance sighed and got off the bed, started looking for his clothes.

Justin counted. Years of auditions and waiting for cameras to be in the right place and lighting and recording levels and he passed time by counting. He'd been with Lance a total of seven hundred and three days since 1996. On again and off again since Justin was fifteen, when he'd lied before kissing Lance and said he'd made out with guys before. Justin always hedged his bets.

They kissed twice and that was all before Justin turned sixteen and it was stupid, Justin still thought it was stupid, that things he couldn't do the day before suddenly were safe and okay according to everyone else once he was sixteen. And they'd rushed into everything else before the birthday cake went stale and then everything ended with a screaming match about the correct pronunciation of vituperative. The next day they'd ignored each other and then ignored each a little less every day until they were back to friends. And two months later they were in bed together again until the next fight. That was the next four years, fucking and a fight and ignoring each other and friends and fucking again.

706. Lance leaned against Justin backstage, during one of the long waits between soundcheck and performance. Justin smiled and grabbed Lance's hand. Lance looked away, his profile sharp against the gray walls. "Hey, um." Lance swallowed. "Justin, about the lasting thing."

Justin nodded, looked at the other wall, and squeezed Lance's hand. "I -- I meant it."

Lance turned around quickly and pressed against Justin, chest to chest. He kissed Justin quickly, dropped his head. "Yeah. So, we should, I dunno, maybe talk about it? Cause I meant what I said, too, and um."

Justin smiled and rubbed Lance's cheek. "Yeah. That's a good idea. But, you know, we can do that later, right?"

Lance looked up and grinned. "It's a plan." Lance took Justin's hand and they walked to the toys room.

When Lance was twenty and Justin was eighteen, Lance got too drunk and they were on and they were in bed and Lance said, "I love you." It slipped out after they had fucked for hours and Justin had closed his eyes. He'd closed his eyes and kept them closed so he could pretend he hadn't heard.

Even when they're on, they're never sappy. And even when they're off, they're never bitchy, so the guys just let it be. Lance saying he loved Justin is the closest they've come to talking about this, these seven hundred days.

710. Lance sat across from Justin as they ate backstage. He put down his Coke and cleared his throat. "So, with the talking thing?"

Justin chewed, swallowed, and nodded his head. "Yeah, we should do that. I'm down with that."

Lance nodded. They were both nodding for a few moments and staring at each other and neither said anything before they both burst out laughing. Lance said, "Okay. You had a girlfriend, girls talk -- you should know how to do this."

Justin grinned and wiped his mouth. "Okay, but you had a girlfriend, too. Sort of, anyway. You start."

Lance pursed his lips. "Well, mostly we talked about how we never saw each other and that's not going to be very helpful here, is it? What about you and Brit?"

Justin thought, tapped his fingers. "Okay. Hmm. Uh, seriously, this is hard." Lance ducked his head and laughed again. Lance had a sexy laugh, had always had it even when he was only seventeen and couldn't give head for shit. Justin sighed and said, "Why do we always end? You know, we're on again and off again and why is that?"

Lance nodded and his eyes widened. "That's good, that's a good thing to talk about it."

"Yeah? Good, good. You start." Justin took a big bite of his sandwich.

Lance shook his head. "You get to start next time. Um. Us, okay. I think. I think we end things a lot cause um. We usually fight, right?" Lance paused. "You know, every time we fight, we stop. So, I think we deal badly with fighting."

Justin pushed his sandwich away, drank half his glass of water. "It's just, Brit and I would fight and make up until the end and with you, you know, it never feels like the end."

"It doesn't. It's, uh, a habit." Lance finished his Coke and crumpled it up.

"A habit?" Justin winced as his voice cracked. "Uh, that doesn't sound nice."

"No, it's -- Justin. I mean we have these habits. Normal people fight and make up and we, we act like the making up is just not being friends for a month or six months or whatever. But, you know."

Justin nodded again. "We should, um, maybe stop doing that. And wait -- what do I know?"

"You know, I -- I always assume you'll be there. Like, we fight, but it doesn't hurt really, cause I know -- we know that we'll be back together." Lance grabbed at Justin's hand, held it tight for a moment before letting go.

"I guess. I guess that I think that, too. I don't really think about it, but now that you mention it, yeah. I know you're there. I never feel like we're over." Justin leaned back and under the table, snagged Lance's ankle with his own. Lance smiled and rubbed back.

"So. That's why we're on again and off again, you know? Cause we're in this habit of, uh, dealing with things by just walking away. But we never really do walk away."

Justin nodded again. "Okay, then. Okay. We're done with this talking about our -- about us, right? We, uh, can revisit later, but, man, this talking thing."

Lance laughed, stood up. "Yeah. Talking good. Talking done." He grunted like a caveman and leaned over the table. "You. Me. Dressing room. Fucking."

Justin didn't even say anything, just followed Lance out.

Since they'd all gotten laptops, when they're on, Lance started sending emails to Justin, with instructions for chat rooms and they've wiled away hours chatting under fake screen names in rooms for NASCAR devotees, women who knit and once, Backstreet Boys fans. When Lance is bored or in a bad mood, they just go to Gay.com.

They chatted about the tours and their day and Justin always liked that, seeing their days from Lance's perspective. The only time in the last seven years Justin ever talked about his parents' divorce was in a chat room with Lance, a room for bridge players from the Pacific Northwest. The first time Lance admitted to anyone, even himself, that he wasn't even really bisexual was in a chat room for gay fans of Beverly Hills 90210.

714. Justin licked his teeth, fell back into the bed and grabbed at Lance's ass. "Day over, let's screw," he said giggling. Lance sighed and kept tapping on his laptop. "Lance, Lance, day over, concert done, night in hotel room, oh, me so horny! Me love you long time."

"You're like a little child, sometimes," Lance said, grinning at the screen.

Justin stretched and then went back to groping Lance's ass. "Little children do not grope at their -- at their boyfriend's ass to lure him away from work so they can fuck."

Lance closed the laptop and put it carefully on the side table. He sat cross-legged on the bed, looking down at Justin. "Boyfriend?"

Justin rubbed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "Well. Sure, what else would you call it?"

Justin looked away from the ceiling and stared at Lance. Lance's expression went from thoughtful to concerned and ended up at bemused. "Yeah," he said, "I guess that's accurate. Are we, uh, talking now? Talking talking?"

Justin tugged at Lance's knee. "We, uh, can. But how about fucking first?"

Lance nodded, a smirk drifting across his face. Justin didn't want to wait another moment and threw off his clothes before Lance had even stretched out next to him. He got Lance's pants and boxers pulled down when they first started kissing, wrapping his hand around Lance's cock as soon as he could. They fucked, fast and furious, with sloppy kissing until the end and they both came loudly. Justin muttered nonsense and grinned, pulling at Lance's hair. "I love the way you fuck, man, I love fucking you," Justin said, "I love you so much."

Lance kissed him. He whispered against Justin's mouth, "You love me, you love me."

Justin rolled off the bed and threw away the condom. He threw a towel at Lance and found one for himself before climbing back in bed. He looked over at Lance and then smiled. "You love me. You said it first."

Lance blinked. He threw the towel at Justin. "You were asleep! I was drunk. It doesn't count. You said it first."

Justin laughed. "Dude, drunk versus 'I just came' glow? I think we can both claim, uh, disclaimers."

Lance found his boxers and pulled them on. He rubbed his chin. "Uh, let's say talking portion of the evening starts now. Talking, talking. Okay?"

Justin nodded. "Okay. Okay. And um, I'm supposed to start this time, right?" Lance nodded. Justin pulled the covers up over him. "Okay. Do you love me?"

Lance nodded again. "Yeah. I do. I love you."

"Not like you love ice cream, or like you love Chris, or something. Like, the big one, the one you say to boyfriends, you know?"

"I love you like the kind you say to boyfriends. Like that. You?" Lance smiled and got under the covers.

"I -- I do love you. Like that." Justin giggled and turned on his side so he could look at Lance. "And you said it first, boyfriend." Lance rolled his eyes. "So. When did you, um, know that you loved me? Like that and not like ice cream?"

"Oh. Man." Lance closed his eyes. "Okay. You'll take this the wrong way or something. But, uh, the first time you, uh, with your tongue and --"

"The first time I blew you?" Justin bit his lip so he didn't laugh.

"No, uh, other, uh, side." Lance blushed and kept his eyes closed.

"Rim job? Dude, I was, like, sixteen. Was I even that good?" Justin reached across and fiddled with Lance's hair.

"You, you were fine. And it wasn't -- you know, just I used to think, you know, ass and dirty down there and you just, uh, dived in. And I was just like, you wanted so much to turn me on, so I loved you for that." Lance opened his eyes. "So, fine, laugh now. And then you have to answer."

Someone knocked at the door and Lance tensed. "Fuck, whose room are we in?"

They'd ended once like that, fighting about whose room they were in so one of them could stalk out and slam the door. Justin had prepared for this, since then. He reached across and found the itinerary on the side table and looked at the corner. He saw where he'd written his initials in the corner like he always did since the first fight. "Mine, it's mine. Wait a sec." Justin got out of the bed and pulled on his sweatpants as he walked to the door.

"Coming!" He called. It had to be one of the guys, he thought, security wouldn't let anyone else near his door, so all of Lance's panic was pointless.

It was Joey, and he looked Justin up and down and made a bemused face. "Look, sorry to disturb you here, but uh, Lance is here, right?"

Lance said, "Yeah. Yeah, come in." Joey sat on the edge on the bed and started talking about some thing with Kelly. Justin curled up on top of the covers. He listened for a little and started to fall asleep. He felt Lance's hand on his head, stroking one of the braids. He woke up to the same light touch and stretched a little.

Joey was saying, "Right. Right. I know what you're saying."

Lance said, "I'm just telling you what you already know. Now, get out." Lance laughed and Justin opened his eyes and smiled.

Joey stood up and walked to the door. Justin pulled off his sweat pants and got under the covers. They'd all seen each other naked too many times to give a fuck about it anymore. Joey waited in the doorway for a second and then said, "You two are so cute, sometimes." He let himself out.

Lance was still sitting up, covers up to his chest. "You still owe me an answer."

Justin leaned over and kissed Lance. "If I'd known all I had to do was kiss your ass ..." Lance rolled his eyes again. Justin rolled over and closed his eyes. "See, yours is all good, if a little pervy, and mine's all, Lifetime movie cliché." He sighed.

He heard Lance roll over and felt Lance's fingers running down his cheek. "When I was sick last year?" Lance said softly.

Justin nodded. "At the show, actually, so not quite the sobbing in the hospital, all 'I never knew! I love him' moment, but, yeah, when we were doing the show and you weren't there. And after." Justin swallowed and remembered Chris finding him in the dressing room when Justin was curled in a ball, crying and clinging to one of Lance's shoes. He decided not to tell Lance now about the shoe.

"It's sweet." Lance kissed him, and they fell asleep curled around each other.

Justin dreamed about photo shoots. When they were off, they never stood next each other unless they had to, and when they were on, they stood a little apart anyway ever since the time Lou yelled at them for acting like fags around the photographers when they were first together. Justin hung out with Chris and Lance hung out with Joey and even when they were fucking every night, they mostly saw each other only then.

722. Justin watched Lance getting dressed before the show. He'd always known he wanted Lance and he'd spent years watching Lance, admiring his thighs, his ass, wanting him. Lance turned around and winked at him. "Yo, stop looking at my ass."

"You want me to stop?" Justin grinned.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Never stop, baby, never stop."

"I'll kiss your ass after the show, man, I know you love it."

Lance blushed as Chris walked in. Chris rolled his eyes and clapped his hands. "Hurry your asses up." Lance shuffled out as Chris grabbed Justin's arm. "Kiddo. You and Lance, uh."

Justin furrowed his brow. "We've been uh for forever, Chris, you never bitched before."

"I'm not bitching at all. Dude, chill. I just wanted to say, to say that lately you two seemed happy, like in a good place. And that's good. And now we have to get wired so let's move." Justin shook his head and ran ahead to the next place he needed to be.

Johnny knew, and Lou never did. There was nothing to tell, just the place they spent their nights and they worked to make sure Lou never found out and didn't care if Johnny did. The bodyguards see everything and never say a word, and Joey's done worse in front of them than Lance and Justin's occasional drunken necking in limos. And even if he'd known since last year that he maybe loved Lance, he never thought of the two of them, and never worried that there was anything to find out. Now he thought about it, once or twice, and he just wanted to make sure they were safe for as long as they lasted.

726. Lance cornered him at the party and smiled over his drink. Justin had coke and rum so in pictures he was only drinking Coke. Lance said, "I thought of something. Something to talk about, since it's my turn."

Justin hummed old Bonnie Raitt and grinned. "Well, maybe not here, okay?"

"No, no. Of course not." Lance looked around, smiled wide. "Let's blow this, though, 'cause, as stupid as it sounds, I really -- I thought of something." He laughed and Justin wondered how much Lance had had to drink.

They sat in the back of the limo and turned up the music, Garth Brooks coming through the speakers. Justin raised an eyebrow at Lance. "Did you ride over in this one?"

Lance nodded and waved his hands. "Okay, okay, I thought of a good thing to talk about, seriously."

"You're so thrilled with yourself." Lance blushed and Justin understood. Lance always wanted to do everything perfect, get it exactly right.

"Right, right. So, I get to ask and you answer first. So, um, yeah, when we're together -- why don't you ever sleep with other people? Even when we're not together every night and stuff, like when we're not in the same city and stuff?" Lance smiled, proud of himself.

"That -- that's good." Justin inhaled. "Uh. I guess, um, when I'm sleeping with you, when that's going on, I don't want anyone else." Justin looked down at his hands and they seemed too large for the rest of him. He had said more than he meant to again.

Lance inhaled sharply. His eyes widened and then he smiled, wide and drunk. "Really? I'm that good?"

"Well, you're good, but. I don't know, I just don't think about it. I know, I could sleep around when we're together, cause we never talk about that shit, so." Justin stretched out his hand, fingers splayed, and tried to decide if his hands were really too big.

"Right, but. Not anymore. I mean we're talking now, and you love me and stuff, so I -- from now on, no sleeping with other people." Lance said it quickly and grabbed Justin's hand like it sealed the deal.

"You love me, too, baby. And it's fine. Yeah, agreed." Justin looked over at Lance and his bright red cheeks.

Lance stared at him for a moment, his face suddenly serious. He said, "Agreed," and shook their linked hands. "Agreed. But you know, any past things are okay. Cause we didn't talk about it."

"You got something to say here, Bass?" Justin ignored the turning in his stomach.

"I actually don't. I just wanted to make sure that if you did -- if you had, it's okay to say so. Or not say so. But I've never -- when we've been this thing. I haven't." Lance leaned back against the seat and didn't let go of Justin's hand.

"Why not? Your turn to answer." Justin leaned back, and rested his head against Lance's shoulder.

He couldn't see Lance's face, but he could feel the sigh. "Yeah. I guess I've never because, I guess, I thought it would hurt your feelings. Like even when we're not in the same place or anything, I just thought you would hear about it and be hurt. Even though, of course, I could have. If I had wanted something else and wasn't all, whatever."

Justin nodded and felt his cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of Lance's jacket. "Exactly. So, thanks for thinking of me." Justin laughed a little. "And, now, now you can't. Not until you toss my ass to the curb. Or vice versa."

Lance reached over with the hand not entangled with Justin's and rubbed Justin's cheek. "I don't -- no plans for that at all. It's fine with me. I brought it up, I don't mind. It's what I want."

Justin had never thought about it before, another thing to add to that list. And he didn't mind the quiet nights away, had never even thought about actually fucking someone else. It wasn't so much that Lance was so amazing in bed when they first started out. As soon as Justin got a blowjob from someone else, fucked someone else he knew that. But Lance was his first for everything, all the things he'd done with guys and the things he could do with guys and girls, except for kissing. And it was maybe impossibly girly of him to find that important and meaningful, but he did.

Lance had gotten better at all of it, somewhere between their first break and the second go around had gotten amazing at blowjobs and everything else. He just liked sex with Lance. Liked even the rushed blowjobs and quick hand jobs backstage when they couldn't find time for anything else.

735. Lance stalked down the corridor to his room. He looked over his shoulder and snarled, "I don't know why you're following me, I don't want you to follow me."

Justin ignored him and followed at his heels. "Yeah, whatever." He shouldered past Lance into the room after Lance opened the door. He stood by the bed and glared at Lance. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Don't stand here like you're staying." Lance threw his bag down.

"What are you so pissed about, or is this just one of your little bursts of temper?" Justin crossed his arms and didn't move from his post by the bed. Lance didn't get mad often, but it always seemed like an explosion when he finally let loose. And, Justin thought, often way out of proportion for being bottled up so much.

"Oh, fuck you. Fuck you and your little glares and shit. You're a fucking ass, you know that?"

"Oh, my little glares? You're pissed about the interview?" Lance was a complete dork in interviews sometimes. He spoke too fast, saying things he pulled out of his ass and it drove Justin crazy. He was sure only the guys could tell as Justin bristled and dearly wished he could shut Lance up.

"That's certainly part of it, doofus. You know, I know everyone wants you, but you don't need to talk over the rest of us -- we'll still sell records if someone else talks besides Justin fuckin' Timberlake." Lance turned and went into the bathroom. He left the door open as he started brushing his teeth.

Justin watched him, saw Lance's glare in the mirror and felt his own temper flare. Fucking Lance and his stupid answers. And the way he would defend himself later to Justin, every time, saying "It's not the Paris Peace talks, Justin, who cares? No one's gonna come after me about this shit." He'd hear that one soon enough.

Justin had his bag at his feet and he wanted to go to his own room. Then he sat down on the bed as he thought, stupid boyfriend. Boyfriend. And looked at his watch and saw it was past midnight.

736. He loved Lance, he'd said it and he meant it. He picked at his teeth and took off his bandanna. He pulled at his hair and waited for Lance to finish brushing his teeth.

"Why are you sitting down? I don't want you here." Lance rubbed his hands with a towel.

Justin looked up and bit his lip. "Lance, why don't you sit down or something? I'm not going." He smiled as best he could. "I want to be here. With you. Sit here with me and I'll -- uh, I'll be nice. Or something. I just. Just sit down."

Lance glared for a second and then cocked his head. He put the towel down on the table. He turned away for a second and then walked over and sat down next to Justin. "This is you, trying to, uh, stop fighting, right?" He sounded a little calmer and Justin smiled completely.

"Yup. I mean we need to figure this out. Not this specifically, though I guess we should do that, too, but I'm not gonna waste all that talking, you know? That shit was hard."

Lance laughed and shook his head. "Okay. Okay, you're right. Stay. Sorry for, uh, bitching at you like that. Not that I'm not completely justified in being angry at you, but I -- I want you to stay."

Justin took Lance's hand. "Well, maybe. Maybe. But, you know, uh, I want us to be together for a while this time. So."

Lance looked down at their hands. "How long -- how many days has it been, anyway, total? I know you count."

Justin snorted and squeezed Lance's hand. "Seven hundred and thirty six since, you know, five minutes ago or something. So. What I want, I want at least a thousand days. I want us to make a thousand days. Maybe more, you know."

Lance grinned. "So we should settle this. Cause we'll probably have to do more interviews in the next, uh, two hundred and sixty four days."

Justin nodded. He turned his head and kissed Lance. "Probably. So." He tugged at Lance's hand. "Let's, uh, get settled a little and you can call me an ass and I'll call you a dork and then, maybe, we can fuck." Lance laughed and reached down to start unpacking some of Justin's things from his bag.

1000. They woke up together and at the end of the day fell asleep spooned against each other.

THE END.

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