"He doesn't seem lonely to me," Lance says.  "He seems angry.  I
don't do so good with angry, Joe."

Joey hugs Lance close.  "It'll be okay.  But, really, he's lonely. 
So lonely it hurts, and you know what that's like.  And angry
because he doesn't think he deserves anything else."

"But he does.  He deserves everything," Lance says.  He feels bad
immediately, because that's not the type of thing you say about
someone who's not your boyfriend.  Especially not in front of your
boyfriend.  "I mean... he's Chris and he's worked hard.  He
deserves to be happy."  That's a little better.

Joey and Lance have only been together formally for eight months. 
They'd had random near-dates before.  But only eight solid months
of both of them believing it matters.  Lance is afraid he'll fuck
it up somehow.  He'll be too clingy or, worse, not clingy enough. 
He just feels safer behind the business mask he developed for
public consumption.  He hides behind it now, trying to be
nonchalant as he gathers information.  "Don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do," Joey says and holds Lance a little tighter.  To show
his approval, and all.  Lance worries too much.  He's shy and
doesn't want anyone to know.  Joey kind of loves him for that
shyness.  For the kid who's still unsure.  Because Joey's not
really all that exceptional, as a person.  The only thing he really
knows how to do right, the only thing he never worries about
fucking up, is taking care of the people he loves.  He loves Lance,
so he never tries to drive that shyness out.  It might be the last
vestige of who Lance was going to be before he met NSYNC.  And he
never tries to take Chris's anger, because Chris needs it.  It's
kept Chris warm when no fire could have done the job, kept Chris
sane when there was nothing else, and let Chris succeed when it
couldn't be done.  All the same, Chris needs a chance to not be
angry, the way Lance needed a chance to be shy.

Lance takes a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly.  "So. 
Chris, huh?"

"Yeah.  Chris," Joey says.  And, "God, I love you."

Lance smiles.  "I love you, too.  Go.  Invite him over.  Or better
yet, go play with him and bring him home for dinner.  I'll cook."

"I really fucking love you."  Joey kisses Lance and watches the
younger man flush with pleasure.  A chance to be shy.

"Yeah, yeah.  Go.  Get.  Be gone."

~~~~

Dinner is cooked -- running high to meat and potatoes, low to
veggies -- when Chris and Joey arrive.  Lance greets them both
calmly, offering wine or drinks.  He pads over to the bar to serve.

Joey reminds himself not to drool.  Lance is clearly nervous.  He's
in jeans and that white shirt, open at the collar.  The one from
the photoshoot.  He's lovely.  But drinking, and therefore nervous. 
Barefoot, though, so he's trying to be casual at least.  Joey
smiles at Lance and leads Chris in with an arm over his shoulders.

"Okay, what's this all about?" Chris asks.  "I recognize this
scenario.  Lance, are you pregnant?"  He punches Joey's arm. 
"Fatone, you dog.  I told you to use a condom."

Lance hoists his glass.  "C'mon, Chris.  You know I'd never drink
if I were pregnant," he says dryly.

Joey rolls his eyes at both of them and noogies Chris.  "Dork.  My
boyslave has made us dinner.  Isn't he the best?"

"Yep," Chris says.  "Smells good, too."

"Him or the food?" Joey asks.

Lance laughs and says, "We're eating in the kitchen, like real
people."

Chris opens his eyes wide.  "Why, Joey, are you accusing me of
macking on your man?  Or his meat?"  He waggles his tongue at Joey
and goes to poke the steaks to see how done they are.

Lance pours Mt. Dew for Chris.  "You want wine, too, or not?"

Joey smiles.  "Everyone knows Lance is good with his meat."  He
winks when Lance flushes, just a tiny bit.

"Joseph Anthony Fatone!  Stop that, or Chris'll be the only one
allowed to have... my meat."

Chris accepts the Mt. Dew and wraps his arm around Lance.  "Ick. 
Wine is for snobby gay guys and people who honk at you when you
stop at a yellow light.  So, how done are you gonna let those
steaks get?  The one in the middle looks to be the way I like it."

Lance bumps Chris with his hip and flips the indicated steak onto
a plate.  "Your meat, my lord," he says, batting his eyes.

Joey snatches his own steak and also a twice baked potato.  "Lance
is a good cook."

"That's 'cause real men grill steak instead of doing kinky things
with pasta and tomatoes."  Chris takes the plate, a fork, and,
after looking dubiously at the veggies for a while, a potato.

Lance takes his own steak and veggies.  Potatoes are way too heavy
on carbs.  He settles at the table with his gay-man wine.

Joey kisses Lance's temple in passing and takes his own seat. 
"I'll remember that, next time I make that manicotti you apparently
don't like."

"Is the manicotti the one that's for dessert?  I like the one that
you eat for dessert."

Lance laughs.  "I guess he doesn't want the homemade ice cream,
then, Joey."

Chris snorts.  "Is ice cream pasta?  I think not.  I'll have ice
cream."

"Are you sure?  I don't wanna force you into anything," Lance
teases.

"Stuff it."

Lance pretends to be hurt as he eats his steak.

Joey laughs.  "Don't try it with him, Chris, he's a champion
pouter."

"Like that's anything new around here," Chris mutters, and cuts up
his steak.  He can't start eating anything until it's all cut up. 
It's a thing.

Lance stays quiet.  Clearly, it's the better choice.

"So.  Today was cool.  We had a good time," Joey says.  At Chris's
nod, he continues, "We should hang out more often."

"Yeah, yeah.  Had a good time.  Now you know I'm alive and not
hidden in a bomb shelter in Montana.  I really appreciate the
effort."

Joey frowns.  "You should stay."

Chris looks up at that, actually turning to face Joey.  "Huh?  At
what point in this conversation did you start trying to kick me
out?  'Cause y'know, I get the routine.  A little wine and dine, a
little conversation, a little why-don't-we-do-this-more-often, and
then I don't see you again until the next time you remember my
existence."

"You should stay," Lance repeats.  "You should stay."

Chris sighs and returns his attention to his plate and pulverizing
the potato to the right consistency.  "I will, don't worry."

"For... a week?" Lance suggests.

"A week?  Jesus, we don't live across the country from each other. 
I figured 36 hours would be long enough for you to get sick of me."

"How about a month?" Joey suggests.

Chris' head snaps up and he looks between them, shocked.  "What the
hell?"

"How 'bout forever?" Lance says.

"Okay, fine.  That's enough."  Chris stands up.  "Thanks for the
food, I had a nice time, and I'll see you guys next time I'm in
Orlando.  Bye."  He heads for the door.

Lance follows, catching Chris's shoulder.  "Please?"

Chris stops.  If Joey'd stopped him, he'd shrug him off, but he has
a harder time getting rough with Lance.  "Look.  I'm tired of this
shit.  I've had it from J, I've had it from Jayce, and I don't
really feel like going through it again."

Lance swallows hard and makes himself put down the mask.  He needs
Chris to know this matters.  "Please, come back.  Finish dinner
with us.  Think about it?"

Muttering about big green eyes and unfair tactics, Chris comes back
and sits down.

Lance sits, too, and finds his steak cut.  "Joey, did you cut my
food?"

Joey blinks.  "Um.  I was waiting...?"

Chris snickers despite his general feeling of being put-upon. 
"Isn't that cute?  He's not four, y'know."

"Exactly."  Lance levels a look at Joey.

"Sorry," Joey says meekly.  He tries not to grin and ruin Lance's
fun.

Chris digs into his steak.  "Good," he says, chewing and
swallowing.  "Just the way I like it."

Lance smiles at the compliment.  "Good."

Chris wrinkles his nose at Lance.  He can't quite grin at him, not
when he's still kinda pissed that every single one of them has
apparently independently come up with the idea to kiss him off.  He
supposes it would have been more polite to let them do it, but he's
fucking sick of it.

Joey guides the conversation back to innocuous subjects, to give
Chris time to think.  But, when they move to the couch after
dinner, he nods at Lance.

Lance settles against Chris's side.  Nothing more than they've done
before.

Chris knows exactly what they're doing, but he's well-fed now and
sated and he has a huge soft spot for Lance when Lance is being
open and, well, happy.

"I didn't pack for an overnight," Chris says, warning them in case
they think he's giving in.  "I gotta go home for clothes and
stuff."

Lance nods.  "If you want, sure.  You can borrow stuff, if you'd
rather."

"No, I can't.  Joey's shorts're too big and yours're too small."

"Go without!" Lance says, and then laughs.

Joey rolls his eyes.  "Lance, how nervous were you about this?"

Lance blinks owlishly.  "About three glasses."

Chris snorts.  "Wine or the good stuff?"

"Wine."  Lance flushes a little.  "I like wine."

"Lightweight.  Three glasses of wine and you're begging for *my*
ass.  Three shots of tequila and you'd probably do girls."

"I had three with dinner, too," Lance says fairly.  "Besides, I'm
better with hard liquor."

Joey rubs Lance's feet.  "He gets sweet with wine," he confides to
Chris.

"Yeah?"  Chris looks wistful for a half-second.  "Can't stand wine. 
It's like fake-drunk.  I don't get the point of having it with food
either.  It makes everything taste like ass.  Might as well just
get drunk."

Lance tucks his face against Chris's shoulder.  "I was scared I'd
fuck up."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Chris says, awkwardly patting Lance's
arm.  "The steak was great."

Joey smiles.  They all know that wasn't what Lance meant.  But the
evening wears on, comfortable and friendly -- and maybe a little
more.

Somehow, Lance stays leaned up against him, even though Chris has
pointed out, repeatedly, that he doesn't look anything like Joey. 
Chris'd protest harder, but it's kinda nice, pretending.

"Hey, Joe, can you get me something to drink?  I'm getting thirsty
here."

Joey stands and silently heads for the kitchen.

Lance tilts his face up to Chris.  "I missed you."

"Yeah.  Fine.  I missed you, too," Chris says, not quite brushing
him off, because Lance is being all soft and JC at him, but it's
not like he hasn't heard this before.

Lance considers carefully.  "I missed you more than I thought I
would.  I thought I'd miss you being around to make me laugh.  I
thought I'd miss you keeping me company.  I didn't know I'd miss
making you happy.  I miss taking care of you, when you'll let me. 
I miss sneaking around and *trying* to take care of you.  I miss
talking to you."

"S'okay.  Missed you, too.  We'll do lunch sometime.  Keep in
touch."  Justin'd given him the 'let's get together later; don't be
a stranger' thing, and Chris hasn't heard anything since.  He had
to leave a message with an assistant of somebody's assistant
because Justin's voicemail was full and even Justin's assistant was
too important and busy to talk to Chris.

JC'd wanted to do lunch and hadn't shown up.  At all.  When Chris'd
gone over to his house to see if JC'd, predictably, forgotten or
gotten caught up with something, he'd discovered that JC'd flown
out a couple hours before for L.A.

"Will you...  Where will you go?"

Chris shrugs.  "Home, I guess.  Maybe go catch up with Justin on
tour or something.  Make an appearance here and there.  The usual."

"Could we go with you?" Lance asks quietly.

Chris is startled.  "Can you do what?"

"Can we go with you?  Or visit you sometimes?"

Visit sometimes.  Chris understands this language better.  He
relaxes.  "Sure, sure.  Whenever you want.  Feel free."

Lance keeps his eyes on Chris.  "Are you sure we can't go with
you?"

Chris tries to stay light.  Not let this affect him.  "Go with me? 
It's not like I'm going to join the Navy or something.  I'll be
around."

"No, you won't."

Chris sighs and pushes Lance away, but gently.  He can't take this
and he can't yell at Lance when he's being like this anymore than
he could yell at JC.  Justin'd made himself unavailable for the
yelling.  "I'm going to go see what's keeping Joey."

Lance sits up and lays his head on his knees.  He hopes Joey has
better luck.

Chris finds the kitchen just fine, but not Joey.  He considers
going for the real stuff, since he knows where that is too, but if
he drinks that, he's gonna have to stay because he doesn't drink
and drive.  Ever.  And drinking and walking is almost as stupid.

He doesn't bother pouring the Mt. Dew in a glass, just snaps the
can open and starts drinking.  He can almost sorta feel the
caffeine and sugar jangling pleasantly in his veins.

Joey comes into the kitchen.  "Hey."

Chris toasts him with the can and takes another swallow.  "So. 
What the fuck's wrong with Lance?"

"There's nothing wrong with Lance," Joey says.  "Well, not the way
you mean, anyway."

"He's all soft and stuff.  I feel like I'm kicking a puppy."

"That's Lance, when he feels safe enough to be that way," Joey
says.

"Huh."

Joey says, "Look.  We sort of need you.  We want you to stay here,
with us."

"Lance said you guys want to go with me."

"If that's the way to stay with you, yes."  Joey nods and reaches
out to hug Chris.  "We don't want to force anything on you, but I
thought if we didn't make it perfectly clear we weren't joking,
you're just brush it off."

Chris backs up.  "What are you trying to make perfectly clear here? 
Pretend all my friends suck and have better things to do than be
with me."

"We don't have anything better to do than be with you."

"Yeah, right."

Joey's breath hisses out.  "We don't, okay?  We love you, okay?  We
think you're sexy, we wanna date you.  Kiss you and marry you.  All
that shit.  Get it?"

Chris' eyes prick.  But just for a second.  Until he remembers
going over to their bus on the last tour seeking sanctuary.  The
laughter from the back of the bus.  Lance's real, happy laugh, the
one he only ever got when he was with someone he loved.  And Joey's
answering chuckle.  Joey's sexy chuckle.

He sets the can of Mt. Dew down firmly on the counter.  "Yeah.  I
get it.  Thanks for dinner."

Lance sees Chris walk past the living room.  He calls out, "Chris?" 
The bottom of his stomach drops when Joey comes in, looking sad. 
"Chris?" Lance repeats, getting to his feet.

Chris ignores Lance.  He can't listen to Lance.  The only Lance he
isn't affected by is the Lance who goes out in public.  The one who
holds hands with girls and smiles wooden smiles that lie.  And even
that Lance affects him in a way.  He makes Chris sad.

Joey wraps his arms around Lance.  "We have to let him choose,
baby."

"He's going?  He's not going to come back?" Lance asks.

Joey shakes his head.  "I don't know."  Lance buries his face
against Joey's shoulder with a tiny sound.  "Shh, I'm sorry, Lance. 
I'm sorry."

Lance's hands tighten into fists.  "It's me.  I'm sorry, Joey."  He
breaks off with a soft hiccup.

Chris gets all the way out to his car before starting to feel
guilty.  He pulls out his cell phone and dials.  It rings for a
long time and he's about to hang up when it's answered.

"Hello?" Joey says.  They're at Lance's house, which usually makes
it Lance's job to answer.  But Lance is all choked up, so Joey
answers.  He hopes it's not Diane.  In fact, he hopes it's a
telemarketer.  He feels really bad himself, and doesn't want to
have to act normal.

"Hey, Joey.  Can I talk to Lance?  No -- wait.  Just tell him it's
okay and I'm not mad at him and I'm sorry for storming out without
saying goodbye and we can get together some other time."  Justin's
excuses now, but Chris doesn't know any other way.

Joey hands the phone to Lance silently.  "H'lo?" Lance chokes out,
wondering who it is.

"It's me.  I just wanted to say sorry for running out on you like
that."

"I'm sorry, Chris," Lance says.  "Can we still visit you,
sometimes?"  Joey's arms come around him, and instead of feeling
safer the way he usually does, he just feels like something's
missing.

"Sure.  Anytime.  But it's not your fault, y'know.  Joey just said
some stuff that took me off-guard that's all."

"It's my fault because I wanted you so much.  Joey's just trying to
be good to me."  Lance smiles sadly.  "He's real good to the people
he loves.  I'm sorry we aren't good for you."

"Lance... don't say stuff like that, okay?  You're good.  It's just
that this isn't a very nice thing to do, y'know.  I mean, sure, I
know you guys mean the best, but I don't want a pity fuck.  It's
nothing to do with me not liking you."

"I don't pity you," Lance says indignantly.  "I love you," he adds
softly.

Chris bangs his head against the steering wheel repeatedly.  "Give
the phone back to Joey."

Lance says, "Okay.  Drive careful."  He hands the phone to Joey and
pulls away, going to watch out the hall windows.  With the lights
off, Chris won't see him.  Probably.

"Chris?  Are you okay?" Joey asks.

"No.  Not really.  Not at all.  You gotta make him stop saying that
shit, okay?  I don't need to hear that he loves me.  You guys are
great together.  I don't know what this is about, but I know you
gotta understand that, even if he doesn't."

"We, are, yeah.  We'd be greater with you.  But we have to let you
choose, as much as I'd like to tie you to the bed and let Lance
seduce you with his pretty face.  But, yeah.  He probably won't
bring it up to you again.  I mean, unless you said something
first."  Joey's chuckle is strained.  "I mean, the guy asked me out
three times before I figured out he meant forever.  And the three
times were years apart."

"Joe," Chris says slowly.  "Are you guys *serious* about this?"

"Yeah, we are.  I know we maybe went about it wrong, though."

Chris looks in front of him.  There's someone standing in the
window, a shape backlit by the bright lights inside.  Lance.  Has
to be.  "Maybe."

He turns off the phone and flips it closed.  He takes the keys out
of the ignition and gets out of the car.

Walking toward the house, Chris stares steadily at the figure in
the window.

Lance presses his hand to the cool screen.  He's afraid to say
anything and break the spell drawing Chris back to them.

Chris looks away at the last minute, when he has to turn toward the
door.  He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on the doorknob.

Lance looks toward where Chris will be.  Might be.  The door opens
toward him, obscuring his view.  Lance holds his breath.

Chris closes the door.  No one greets him.  He turns toward where
Lance would have had to be standing.

Lance whispers, "Chris."  He smiles.

Joey steps into the hall, smiling at them both.  "Hey."

Chris looks between them.  He wants to go to Lance, but Joey's
there, too, and that holds him still.  "I didn't believe you."

Lance steps forward, reaching out to touch Chris.  "It's okay."

Chris clasps Lance's hand immediately.  "Anger leads to fear or
whatever that Yoda shit is.  I got the same spiel from J and Jayce
and they blew me off.  Figured I'd do it to you first."

Lance folds against Chris as Joey folds around him.  "Yeah,
well..." Lance starts.

"... you're ours now," Joey finishes.

Chris wraps his arms around Lance's waist even as he leans back
into Joey.  "See," he says quietly, cautiously drawing Lance
closer, "that's the problem.  I thought we already were.  All of
us."

Lance sadly says, "But we weren't.  Hiatus came, and we didn't keep
each other."

"No."

"We want to keep you," Joey says.

"Believe it when I see it," Chris mumbles, not letting go.

Lance says, "Well, we're all set then."

Chris snorts.  His face is buried in Lance's neck and his eyes are
closed.

"Do you *really* need clothes to stay the night?" Joey asks.

"Just to leave in the morning."

"That's easy!  Don't leave in the morning."

Chris makes a strangled sound in his throat.  "Yeah.  That's what
I figured you'd say."

Lance blushes.  "I meant, leave in the afternoon.  Then it'll just
be like we got wasted and didn't wanna drive."

"Oh."  Chris is quiet for a long time.  He'd thought they meant he
should stay, with them, for real.  Be the three of them instead of
them and him.  But if Lance wants him to leave...  Finally, he
sighs.  "Okay, I guess."

Joey says, "You don't have to stay, Chris.  If you wanna go home
tonight, that's cool.  We'll just come hang at your place
tomorrow."

Chris lets go of Lance and steps sideways, away from the both of
them.  "Yeah.  Okay.  We can do that."

Lance and Joey look at Chris with twin expressions of caring.

"You wanna stay a while longer?" Lance asks hopefully.

Chris sticks his hands in his pockets.  "Maybe you should tell me
what you really want."

"I wanna have you be part of us," Lance says eagerly.

Joey nods.  "But not go too fast for you."

Chris nods, looking at his feet.  "That's what I thought you said. 
But then," he looks up at Lance, eyes dark and wanting, "there was
the bit about me leaving in the afternoon instead of the morning."

"If you want to leave," Lance says.  "If you wanna get clothes."

Chris shakes his head.  "I might need to.  I don't want to."

Lance smiles.  "Yeah?  You wanna go snuggle?"

Chris rolls his eyes.  "*Snuggle*?  Joey, what have you done to
this poor boy?  Last time I saw him, he had a dirty mind.  Now he's
all innocent and irresistible."

"He's a good snuggler," Joey says.  He grins wickedly.  "Can't ever
get close enough.  Trust me.  You'll like it."

"Oh, yeah?"  Chris eyes Lance speculatively.

Lance smirks.

Chris takes his hands out of his pockets.  "Show me?"

Lance takes Chris's hand and leads him upstairs to the bedroom.