NOTES: Huge thanks to Tiffany, SNKastle, the Turin Brakes, Jude and Lily.

THE AMERICAN WAY

They're going to break up and everything will be over but it hasn't happened yet so when Lance finishes dressing, he shakes Justin awake. Justin mumbles a little and sits up, burying his face in Lance's shoulder. "C'mon, Justin, wakey wakey, eggs and bake-y."

Justin mutters something about cereal, not eggs. Lance smiles a little and pats Justin's head. "Seriously, Just. Driving me to the airport. Movie about to come out, you know. Go, get ready." He shoves Justin a little.

"Right. Fuck, it's early. How much time do I have?" Justin sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his eyes.

"Ten minutes." Lance stands up and waits at the door.

Justin lurches to the bathroom and then turns around. "You're lying, right? I have, like, fifteen minutes."

Lance calls out "ten minutes, I'm not shitting you." He's lying, they have thirty minutes. Two and a half years of waking Justin up and Lance doesn't even think twice about it. He makes coffee and pours a bowl of cereal for Justin. They're ending, he knows it. The next fight or the one after that, and one of them will shake his head and say this is it. Lance drinks the first cup of coffee as Justin walks downstairs and starts eating his cereal.

"Five minutes now, right?" Justin mumbles.

Lance puts a cup of coffee in front of him and says, "No. Twenty minutes now. I lied."

Justin looks up, grinning. They're both in the car and on the road and even by Lance's timetable it's with five minutes to spare. Justin puts on some hip-hop station and Lance switches to NPR. Justin just rolls his eyes. They don't talk as Justin drives to the airport, except for Justin's occasional "whatever" to the news. Justin parks his car in the short-term parking and looks over at Lance. "So. Want me to come in and wait?"

Lance shakes his head. "Bodyguards waiting for me inside, it's easier to say goodbye here."

Justin pulls him into a hug and kisses him. Justin tastes like toothpaste and sugar. "You've got all this shit, I gotta go to the beach with Britney, and yeah. Call me. Often." Justin reaches into the side well behind him and pulls out a cd. "Oh, I was fucking around last night and I made this for you. Like, to listen to on the plane. It's not, like, themed or anything, I just downloaded mp3s and burned 'em for you."

"Hypocrite. Artist royalties? Hello?" Lance kisses Justin and strokes the back of his neck. "I will call you. Often."

Justin grins and says, "Don't fuck around on me." They've been saying that to each other when they say goodbye for two years and this time Lance winces.

"We need to, uh, seriously, find another way to say goodbye." Lance pulls away and starts to open the door.

Justin kisses him again. "Okay, I'll look through your fan mail and find something more appropriate. Maybe something about your hot ass and stuff."

Two and a half years ago, Justin turned to him before a show and said, "So. You're really gay?" And Lance burst out laughing and fell on the floor. He looked up twice before he realized Justin was kidding, only pretending to not know for sure. After the show, Justin grabbed his hand and they snuck past the bodyguards. And 1999 wasn't 2000 or even 2001 so they could get away with sneaking off to McDonald's even in a big city. They walked back to the hotel, laughing and eating fries. When they were about to go back in, Justin snagged Lance's last fry and then grabbed his hand again. "Dude, what time is it?"

Lance looked down at his watch. "Uh. One a.m. Why?"

Justin grinned at him. "I want to know if it's tomorrow. Or today. Just what day it is." Justin paused and smiled wider. "'Cause I'm considering this our first date and I wanna remember the day." Then he kissed Lance, his mouth salty and sweet.

Lance lies on his bed at the hotel in New York and calls Justin at two a.m. "Hey."

Justin says "hey" and shouts at someone to shut up. Then he moves to another room or something because the background noise fades away. "I take it you got in okay."

"Yeah. Dude, you trying to send me some kind of message here? Every song on this cd is all stalker love."

Justin laughs. "Seriously? I, uh, didn't intend that."

"Okay, first song is that Steve Earle one where he's talking about never giving up the girl, even if she calls the cops. Second song is this 'if you marry someone else, I will kill you' thing. They're not all like that, but, uh. I was kinda freaked."

"Yeah, well, make sure Joey listens to it." Justin laughs again. "I was just going with songs that sounded cool. Sorry about that." Justin pauses. "Look, I was gonna email you but there's -- Johnny called me. Some German paper, they have this picture."

Lance swallows. "Of?"

"Uh, us. From last year sometime. I had hair. It's like a detail from something else, but it's us, kissing. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

"It'll be fine? Fuck, Justin," Lance sighs. The walls seem closer and the bedspread beneath him is coarser than he thought.

"No, don't worry. You've got a beer bottle in your hand, we were drunk, big joke, blah, blah, we'll blow it off. I leave for vacation with Brit in Destin tomorrow, for fuck's sake. But, uh, you know, don't call me your boyfriend or anything while pimpin' the movie." Justin tries a laugh and it comes off forced.

"I hadn't planned on it. Fuck, Justin, where did they get the picture?"

"We don't know, dude. But don't worry about it." Justin's silent for a few seconds. "Seriously, don't worry about it."

Lance shakes his head. "Fuck. Are you on your cell? You know, people can record that shit, like Prince Charles?"

"You know I'm on my cell 'cause you called me on my cell. And I don't think Prince Charles gives a shit about our phone conversations. And yes, I knew what you meant. Chill. Look, you want me to call you back from a phone?"

Lance sighs. "No. No. Whatever. But, uh, next time, I'll call you on a real phone. Or, whatever." Lance rubs his forehead. "They have a picture?"

Justin sighs. "It's nothing. Chill." They're both quiet for a few seconds. "Anyway, I guess that's all. Do you have -- that's all I wanted to tell you tonight."

"Right. Email me, and I guess Johnny'll be calling. Right." Lance rubs his eyes and they feel heavy and dry. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

Justin coughs. "Right. Miss you."

"Miss you, too." Lance puts down the phone and stares at the ceiling.

Justin buys him joke gifts all the time. Lance has four different Eminem posters and awful t-shirts from mall stores that say things like, 'PMS got me where I am today' and '40 and loving it.' Lance keeps the posters in the back of his closet and the t-shirts in a bottom drawer. He doesn't even wear them to rehearsals.

Since their second date, Justin has been buying him postcards. They're always incredibly tacky with stupid pictures and lame sayings or incredibly boring one of airports or factories. Justin just puts the date on them and writes jokes that were stupid in fifth grade. He leaves them on Lance's bunk or tucks them in his costumes. When they're not together, Justin mails them to whatever address gets them to Lance fastest. Lance keeps them in a box and at the end of the last leg of the tour he counted them all. One hundred and sixty postcards and Justin never repeated a joke. There are forty different knock knock jokes.

Justin sent him one postcard that didn't have a joke written on it, in the spring when Lance was in Toronto filming. A pretty postcard from Orlando and written on the back in Justin's nearly illegible handwriting: 'I would like to be the air/ that inhabits you for a moment/ only. I would like to be that unnoticed/ & that necessary. - Margaret Atwood.' It wasn't their anniversary or anything and Lance didn't ask what prompted it. That postcard Lance has tucked in his planner or his laptop case. And Justin's given one gift in two and a half years that wasn't a joke: a spider plant in a red pot. Justin said, standing at Lance's door and looking down at the plant with its tiny bow, "Those things are fucking un-killable. They last, like, forever." Lance tried taking it on the bus once during a leg of the tour but the leaves started to brown a little, so he keeps it as his house and bugs the cleaning staff to make sure it's watered.

Lance buys Justin expensive sweaters and once, pajamas. Justin never wears them in photo shoots or when he'll be on TV, but he throws them on as soon as he gets on the bus or when they're just tooling around at home.

He calls Justin from a club after another day of interviews and saying the same five things about the movie. "Hey, where are you?"

Justin laughs, a little tinny through the lines. "Where are you, man? And you're calling me on your cell, what's up with that?"

"I decided not to be completely paranoid. Also, I never remember your number, you change it too often." Lance leans over a balcony a little, watches the people dancing below. "I'm at some club."

"Dude, go dance. Kiss the boys and make 'em cry."

"Why don't you ever get jealous?" Lance grins and laughs a little.

"Hell, I know who you're fucking, and if you don't want to anymore, you'll tell me, right?" The music is softer for a moment and Lance can hear noise behind Justin.

"Yeah. So I should go dance?" Lance hears Britney shouting something to Justin.

Justin covers the phone for a second and then comes back. "Brit says hi and her new friend," Justin loads the last two words with a leer, "says we need more beer. And yeah, dance away. Luscious boy flesh and all that, ripe for the admiring."

"And me at my sexual peak and not doing anything. Wasting away, here." Lance blinks for a moment and realizes his words came out more bitter than he intended or had thought he felt.

Justin pauses. "Uh. Your sexual peak was four years ago, if I remember anything from those Cosmo articles Chris used to read out loud. And I don't think it's been wasted."

Lance rubs his forehead and turns away from the dance floor. He leans against the railing at his back and stares at black walls of the VIP lounge. "That wasn't --"

Justin starts speaking quickly. "Look, I know. You've got a whole feast spread out in front of you and you've spent the last two years on a mostly faithful monogamy trip. So. Yeah. You have some complaints?"

Lance pauses. Maybe. "No. No complaints at all. Nothing wasted here."

"Protesting too much, much? Whatever." Justin sighs.

"Justin, seriously. I was just." Lance sighs and starts walking down the stairs to the exit. "I'm going home. Justin, dude."

"It's fine." Justin sounds sincere and tired. "See you soon. Miss you."

"Miss you, too." Lance hails a cab and goes back to the hotel.

They weren't exclusive the first six months they went out and so Brit's not much of a virgin and Lance knows more about setting up lighting rigs than he usually admits. Then there was a series of pitched arguments about nothing and then the lawsuit and they decided to sleep only with each other. Justin's cheated four times, which puts him one ahead of Lance. When they used to argue about that, Justin always noted that he had cheated with complete strangers except for once with Brit, and Lance had cheated with JC, which made it worse. Somehow it all blew over and they've both been faithful for the last year or more.

The other guys found out a week after the decision to be exclusive because they ended up having a pitched fight that rapidly escalated in volume in the back of a limo with the other three. If the heat of the argument hadn't given them away, the part where Justin called Lance a cocksucker and Lance shot back something about Justin not complaining about that before made it all pretty clear. Chris cleared his throat at one point and said, "So. You two."

JC said, "Yeah. I thought. Yeah."

Joey looked at the two of them and added, "Or not anymore? Did you just like, break up or something?"

Justin said quickly, "No. That was just a big fight. We're not breaking up or anything." He laughed.

Lance grinned back. "Right. Big fight over." And it was, and they were both laughing. Sometimes Justin invokes it again, just calls Lance a cocksucker and then starts laughing, declaring the fight over. And it still works, most of the time.

Once when Justin was complaining about Joey, about how annoying he found Joey and Lance was countering point for point with how obnoxious Chris was, Justin just stared at him and said, "I hate your friends." Lance imitated Justin and whined a little and it was the same weird alchemy as the fight in the limo, everything was fine.

Lance is drunk, just back from Florida, back in New York again, when Justin calls. "Yo, babycakes, what's up?" Lance's slurring his words a little and the what's up comes out as all one word.

"Nothing. Haven't talked to you all day, only talked to you a little yesterday," Justin says. "What are you doing?"

"Drinking. Sitting on a hotel bed. Throwing napkins at Joey." Lance blows across the top of his beer bottle to hear the low sound. "Heard anything about the picture?"

"It's been published. No article of anything to accompany it, but I expect it'll hit the states next week or something. It's a good picture."

"I saw." It was a grainy jpeg when Lance saw the email, but it's clearly Justin, curls peeking out of a dark bandana, leaning in and kissing Lance. It's the only picture he's ever seen of the two of them as a couple.

Justin clears his throat. "You've been in kind of a mood lately. What's up?"

Lance finishes his beer and throws the bottle on the floor. Joey looks up from watching ESPN. Lance sighs. "We're gonna break up, aren't we?" Joey's eyes widen and he gets off the bed, walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

Justin exhales. "I hope not. I mean -- why do you think that?"

"It just kinda feels like it, doesn't it? We're just kinda going through the motions, I don't know. It feels like one more fight and we're out of here, you know?"

Justin sighs. "I feel that way sometimes."

Lance pulls up his knees and leans into them. His stomach flip flops. "You feel that way a lot? Since when?" His throat is suddenly scratchy and his mouth is dry.

"Since our second date, man. I mean, seriously. Like, you are the way you are and I'm me, and it's surprising we haven't killed each other yet. And there's the whole working together thing. I hate your friends." Lance laughs weakly and Justin keeps going. "And, you know, PR and hiding things. Not telling my parents 'cause they'd freak. And, not to be Mr. Stonewall 2001 here, but where do we go from here? We can't get married. So, you know." Lance sighs.

"Okay, I was feeling some sort of relationship angst before, but now. That's bleak, Justin."

"Yeah." There's a pause again and it seems as long as the rest of Lance's life. "But. You know, think about it. Back in 1996? Four goofy looking guys and one cute one singing and dancing to happy songs? That looked pretty bleak. And, uh, we kicked ass. Against all odds, sort of. We broke records, man. So. It's a fucked up crazy world. You never know how these things are gonna turn out. Stranger things have happened than you and me. Than us, you know, working out."

"Oh." Lance falls against the pillows. "Yeah. Okay."

Justin makes a noise and Lance can't quite figure out if it's a sigh or something else. "So. Did you have anything else to say here?"

Lance stares at the ceiling. "I miss you. See you soon?"

"Yeah. I miss you, too. See you then."

Lance throws the phone on the floor. He yells, "It's over, Joey, you can come out."

Joey sits on the edge of the bed. "Is everything okay? Did you guys break up?"

"Nope." Lance rubs his eyes. "We're not, uh, fine, but nope."

"Good. Good. Cause that would suck."

Lance giggles. "You lose the bet, you mean?"

Joey laughs and flops onto the other bed. "Dude, I lost that bet last year. JC won, but it was kinda lame."

"You bet on us? Why do I even ask, of course you did."

"See, we started the bet after we found out. 'Cause before that, we all just thought you were fooling around. And Chris jumped in first and took anytime in the next three months, and I took three months to a year and JC was left with more than a year. He already claimed his money, man, last year. Showed up at our doors and was all, gimme my 500 bucks, man, they're still together."

"I hope he donated the money to charity." Lance falls asleep and doesn't even hear Joey's reply.

They're in DC before the benefit and Justin rolls over so he's on top of Lance and kisses him. Lance grabs Justin's ass and grins into the kiss. Justin breaks off the kiss and starts licking Lance's collarbone. And this part has always been good and sometimes seems to get better each time. Lance closes his eyes and can't help moaning a little.

Justin stops kissing and says, "Did you -- uh, new soap?"

Lance opens his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, uh, it's this salt thing with uh --"

"Peppermint." Justin says, licking his lips.

"Yeah. It exfoliates and moisturizes. Do you, uh, not like it?"

Justin runs his hand down Lance's side and rubs the top of his thigh. "Your skin is already so smooth." Lance shudders a little. "It's fine, it's just, you know, you taste a little different." Justin tastes the same, like Justin's same old soap and sweat.

The picture makes the Enquirer but the article has nothing to it as no one talks. There aren't many people who could talk, after all. On TRL Carson says to Justin, "Man, I saw a picture of you kissing Lance."

Justin laughs and says, "Man, it was wrong of me, but I was so drunk."

Joey says, "Once, I was a little drunk, and I kissed one of our bodyguards. And he's like, man, two feet to the left, Fatone." Everyone laughs and the next question is about Britney's album and Justin babbles on about how great it is. Lance watches from their hotel room, eating lunch with Chris and JC. He swallows twice and then goes back to his lunch.

Justin clips the picture out of the Enquirer and tapes it to the mirror in his bathroom. Lance points at it and says, "Whoa. Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I don't let people into my bathroom lightly, man. It's fine. It's a good picture." Lance nods and sits on the edge of the bed. Justin stands over him and looks down. "Hey. I know you would say something if -- but, uh, just checking here. You don't wanna break up, right?"

"No." Lance means it and he looks up and grabs Justin's hands. "I don't wanna at all."

Justin looks at the picture and looks back at Lance. "Yeah. It's the American way."

Lance purses his lips. "The American way? Tabloids, PR, queer boy band members in love?" He raises his eyebrows.

Justin kisses him and tastes sweet. "The American way. You gotta root for the underdog, here."

THE END.

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