"A true friend stabs you in the front."

No one's told him one way or another that he has to have this talk
with Lance.  Maybe 'cause no one's noticed, maybe because they
think he should be taking care of it.  Joey doesn't know.

What he does know is that Lance is his best friend.  That's
completely and utterly true.  And if it wasn't for one thing, he
wouldn't have to disappoint Lance this way.  But the thing's there,
and he owes it to Lance to handle it personally.

If only Lance didn't give him that bright, happy smile whenever he
sees him, like Joey lights up the room for him.  Then maybe it
wouldn't hurt so much, having to do this.

"Lance," he says.  "I need to talk to you."

"Sure, Joey!"  Lance sets everything aside.  It's stupid, really,
but just being *around* Joey makes Lance safe.  For as long as
they've been a group, Joey's been the one protecting Lance and
helping him.  The one who was patient and kind instead of making
fun of him.  *And* he's the first one who knew Lance was gay.  He
really helped Lance come to terms with it by being so supportive,
like being gay was totally normal.  Lance started to fall in love
with Joey then.  He knows he's totally gone now, but it's all
right.  It's only a matter of time until Joey loves Lance back,
after all.

Joey sits down.  When Lance sits down, too, Joey takes his hand. 
Maybe that'll make this easier.  "Lance, you're my best friend,
right?  And you know I love you?"

"I love you, too, Joey," Lance says, his heart beating fast.  This
is it!  Joey's finally going to say...

"And you know I'm never gonna be gay."

"You what?"

"I'm straight, Lance.  I'm always gonna be straight, too.  If it
was ever gonna be a guy for me, it'd be you, but it's never gonna
be a guy."

"How do you know?  Things change every day.  Besides, I don't mind
waiting."

"Lance," Joey says slowly, painfully, "I'm in love with Kelly. 
We're gonna get married."

Lance smiles blankly for a moment.  And then it sinks in.  "You're
gonna do what?"

"I'm getting married.  I asked Kelly to marry me last weekend, and
she said 'yes'."  Joey adds gently, "I've been in love with her for
a long time."

"You have not.  You hated her last month.  You told me so."

Joey strokes the back of Lance's hand lightly.  "I've been fighting
it for a long time, too.  Trying to pretend I wasn't in love,
because I've been holding onto this idea that it's better not to be
committed, to be able to fuck any girl I wanted any time.  And,
yeah, that was cool.  But there's sex and there's more.  And I want
more."

"We *are* more!" Lance insists.  We're everything but the *sex*, he
wants to say, but his throat is closing up.

"Yeah, we are.  But I'm not ever gonna be *in* love with you.  Not
like I am with Kelly."

"Why not?" Lance asks, his voice tiny and broken.

"Because I'm not gay."  Joey looks at him sadly.  "I'm not even
bi."

"But I *love* you."

"I know.  And I'm sorry.  But I'm not ever gonna love you the way
you want to be loved."

Lance doesn't know what to say.  He just tries not to cry with Joey
still there.

When Lance excuses himself, Joey lets him.  He feels like an
asshole, but it's the truth, and would it be any kinder to let him
find out by hearing it in the news?

They've got a show.  They've got a show in an hour.  Only an hour. 
Lance is being torn apart and he has to do a show.  A show.  In an
hour.  The words just keep repeating, looping through his head as
he rocks back and forth in a dark corner of the back stage area.

Justin stumbles over him, pretty much literally.  Once he sees
Lance's face, though, he knows that this is not a 'him' kind of
situation.

He does what he usually does in these kind of situations -- he
heads straight for Chris.

Chris hears him out.  "So you say Lance is crying his heart out and
hiding.  What'd Joey say?"

Justin shrugs.  "Dunno.  Didn't ask him."

Chris cuffs him.  "Moron."

Justin sticks his tongue out at him.  "I don't need to go find him. 
That's what I got you for."

Chris cuffs him again and goes in search of Joey.

Joey's in the Quiet Room, and Chris stands over him.  "Lance--" he
begins.

Joey holds up a hand.  "He's upset at me; it's my fault and no,
there's nothing I can do about it."

"Do about what?" Chris asks.

Joey sighs.  "I'm straight, he's not, and I'm never gonna be in
love with him."

"And you told him this *now*, right before a concert?"

"Had to be now.  Proposed to Kelly.  Wanted him to hear about it
first, before anyone else could tell him."

Chris works his mouth for a bit.  Then he clenches his fist.  He
steps forward as though to hit Joey, then shakes his head,
remembering they've got to go in front of the public soon.  "That
was a damn cruel thing to do, Joey."

"He deserved to hear it from me," Joey says, sad, but stubborn. 
"You gonna hit me?"

"No.  Show first.  Hitting later."

Chris shakes his head again and heads off to find Lance.

Lance sits still in the makeup chair.  He barely feels the things
being done to him.  It's like he's encased in some sort of plastic
coating.  All the appearance, none of the feelings.

"Hey," Chris says, coming up alongside him.  "How're you doing?"

Lance waits until the makeup is finished to answer.  "Numb. 
Yourself?"

"I'm okay," Chris says.  He covers Lance's forearm with his hand. 
"You wanna maybe do something later?"

"That's nice of you.  I think I'm going to need to be alone later,
though."

"I was thinking maybe of holding Joey down so you could kick his
ass if you wanted."

"I love him, Chris."  Lance shrugs and starts for the Quiet Room. 
"It wouldn't help."

"Joey's in there," Chris says, following Lance.  "Or he was just a
second ago."

"It doesn't matter.  We've only got a few minutes before call.  We
all have to be in there anyway."

Chris nods.  There really isn't any more he can do.  For now.

****

Lance does cry, of course.  Not right away, but after.  After the
show and after the VIP tour.  Even after they get back to the
hotel.  Not until he's in the shower does he cry, sitting on the
cold tiles and sucking in gulps of steamy air as he sobs.  And it's
so damn *cold*.

Chris ponders the wisdom of breaking into Lance's room for about
three seconds and then does it anyway.  Lance needs a friend right
now.  Joey can't be it in the current situation; Justin's
functionally incompetent at the task of caretaking and he's not
desperate enough to turn the job over to JC.  Although it might
come to that.

For the moment, though, he's got an armful of liquor and mixers. 
Lance has to be miserable to get over the not-breakup, Chris
reasons, but he doesn't have to be in his right mind at the same
time.

The cold water must be broken or something, Lance reasons.  That's
why no matter how low he turns the knob, the water pouring over him
doesn't get any warmer.  Well, if he's not going to get warm here,
he might as well go to sleep.  He turns off the water and climbs
out.  His legs are wobbly, but that's from the stress of doing a
show all wound up.  It's happened before.  Still, Lance is
surprised to find Chris in his room.  How strange, when he thought
nothing could make him feel at the moment.

"Hey," Chris says.  "I brought refreshments.  You want me to avert
my eyes from the sight of your mouth-watering body, or should I
just leer?"

Lance doesn't answer, just starts folding down the covers of his
bed.  Normal responses seem to be broken for him.  Nothing triggers
them tonight.

"O-kayyy," Chris says.  "Not sure what that means, but I definitely
think some drinking is in order."

Lance crawls into bed and pulls up the covers, huddling under them
in an unfocused attempt to get warm.  "Hi, Chris."

Chris goes into the bathroom and comes out with two glasses.  He
sets them and a bottle of whiskey on the table.  He sits down on
the side of the bed and pours two half-full glasses.  "Here," he
says, handing one to Lance.  "I think you need this."

Lance takes it and drinks without question.

Chris watches Lance down it all and shakes his head.  Oh, yeah. 
This is serious.  He drinks about half of his, then refills his
glass and trades it for Lance's empty.  "So, the plan is, we get
some of that inside you and see if it helps any."

"Joey's gonna marry Kelly."

"Yeah, he told me when I asked him what was up with you."

"Oh."  Lance drinks what Chris has given him.  "I'm in love with
him."

"Knew that, too," Chris says, nodding.  "I've got eyes, after all."

"He knew it, too."

"Joey's got eyes, too.  And he's smart like that."

"He should've said something before."

"Why's that?"

"Because he's straight and I've loved him for years."

"Yeah," Chris says, lying down on the bed and making himself more
comfortable.  "But I don't see the wrong in that.  Love's a great
thing."

"Yeah."

"Like to have more of it myself."  Chris pours more for both of
them.

Lance just keeps drinking anything Chris gives him.  He's so cold
and so tired.  Getting even more tired by the second.

Chris figures out after a while that Lance is gonna be the passed
out kind of drunk and not the cathartic, crying, screaming kind. 
But that's kind of all right, because he's kinda tired, too.

The bottle's empty when he pushes at Lance, muttering, "Shove over. 
'm tired, too.  Gonna sleep now."

Lance makes room for Chris.  "Be warm," he requests.

"'Course 'm warm," Chris says, crawling in next to Lance and
curling tight.  He's a cuddler when he's drunk.  He likes affection
and physical contact.  "Not dead or anything."

Lance flinches away from Chris.  "Ow."

"What?" Chris mumbles, chasing after Lance.

Lance frowns.  "Hurts.  Be warm over there."

"Don't wanna.  Snuggle me."

Lance shakes his head, then snuggles Chris and starts crying
silently.

Chris is drunk enough that he's viewing the world through huge
thick spectacles made out of the bottoms of two whiskey glasses,
but he still recognizes the sound of crying.  His hands move
disjointedly over Lance and he makes soothing sounds.

Lance realizes that he's going to pass out.  He's happy when he
does.

****

Chris wakes up with a nasty hangover, in bed with Lance.  The bed
smells like a brewery and the amount of litter is simply incredible
considering that he only remembers having gone through one bottle. 
There's an awful lot of trash though.

Lance is still asleep.  He looks like he cried himself there. 
Chris sorta remembers that.

He decides he owes it to Lance to clean up at least some of the
mess.  Plus he really needs a shower, some aspirin and some
drinking water.  Not necessarily in that order.

Chris shifts.  Lance opens his eyes.  The morning is exactly like
a continuation of the night before.  Nothing seems to have changed
at all, except that he's too dehydrated to care.

"Hey," Chris says quietly.  "Go back to sleep.  It's too early to
be awake."

"I'm awake," Lance says.

"Oh."  Chris hasn't yet accomplished the all important
sneaking-out-of-bed move.  "You want anything?  I was about to go
for some water and drugs and stuff."

"No, thank you."

"You sure?"

"Yes, thank you."

Chris shrugs and gets up.  Yes, he looks like shit in the bathroom
mirror, too.  He swigs some water and swipes ibuprofen from Lance's
toilet kit, then strips and gets in the shower.

Lance is laying on his side, staring at the wall.  He thinks hazily
of turning over and seeing the sun that's casting a square of light
on the wall in front of him.  But that would make it real, and
Lance doesn't want any of this to be real.  He wants it to be a
nightmare.  It has to be a nightmare.

Chris feels slightly more human once he's clean.  Slightly.

He wraps a towel around his waist because his clothes from the
night before are a little more gross than even he can stand.

He grabs a glass, fills it with water, takes more of the ibuprofen
and brings it out to Lance.

The image in front of his eyes distorts.  A moment later, Lance
realizes Chris is holding a glass in front of him.  Like last
night, he takes it and drinks.  "Thank you."

"Any time.  Okay if I steal some clothes?"

"Yes."

Chris' head still hurts.  Focus on the important stuff.  Like
clothes.  He goes and hunts through Lance's selection of outerwear.

Lance closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep.

Lance's clothes are extremely boring.  Chris ends up with a t-shirt
and a pair of sweat pants, because Lance is also trimmer around the
middle.

Dressed, Chris contemplates the wreck of the room.  He really
should clean the place up.  He also really should hit himself over
the head with a hammer.  Decisions, decisions.

On one hand, he's established a reputation as a lazy, irresponsible
brat, so he can just leave it.  On the other hand, it's his fault. 
On the one foot, he should also keep trying to fix Lance, even
though Lance obviously doesn't want to be fixed.  And on the final
foot, he's not a dogooder and he's tired and cranky and he doesn't
see why he should have to launch a crusade to save Lance until,
say, mid-afternoon.

Then there's the fingers and the toes.

But what it really comes down to is, Lance seems to want to be left
alone.

So Chris comes up beside Lance and bends down and kisses his
probably aching forehead.  "Sweet dreams.  I'm gonna go pay for my
sins."

Lance waits until Chris leaves, and then a few minutes more.  He's
not going to fall asleep again, no matter how much he'd like to. 
Instead, he gets up and cleans the room, then himself.  In fact, he
does everything he can possibly think of to clean himself, up to
and including going to the hotel's in-house salon for a haircut,
eyebrow waxing and manicure.  And then he goes back to his room and
sits, watching the city wake up.  They have another show tonight,
he knows.  After that, it's onto the busses to travel to the next
city.

Lance gets up and starts packing.

Chris isn't the only one concerned about Lance.  He and JC talk
about it in the Quiet Room, JC draped in Chris' lap for a nice cozy
*private* conversation.

"See, the thing is," Chris says, stoking JC's back, "is that he's
probably gonna sleepwalk through tonight's show, too.  And, yeah,
no biggie, but then we're back on the busses.  With Lance and Joey
together.  No good can come of this," he says ominously.

"No, it really can't," JC agrees, frowning.  "So, what are we going
to do about it?  I can probably talk Joey into switching busses,"
he offers.

"Yeah, but leaving Lance alone's even worse."

"Well, one of us would go over there," JC says delicately.  "You
know, someone he feels comfortable with?  Someone good at dealing
with emotions."

"Yeah.  I kinda figured you'd wanna do it."

"I want to, you're right.  But I don't think I'm the one who
should."

"Justin?  Don't be ridiculous.  Only *I* get to be ridiculous."

"Chris, he trusts you.  Besides which, you've already proven that
you're firmly on *his* side.  He needs that right now."  JC kisses
Chris on the cheek.  "You're the cheerleader in the game of life."

Chris had been about to protest that Lance obviously doesn't trust
him, because the dork keeps telling him 'thank you' to everything,
probably up to and including, 'I'm sorry; I seem to have broken
your arm.'  Then JC adds the cheerleader comment.  "With pompoms
and the little skirt?"

"Sure thing.  And spankies with 'Go Lance' written on them in gold
letters."

"Those little underwear thingies?  Huh.  I think I could get into
that."

"Kinky, baby.  Real kinky."

"Okay," Chris says.  "I'll do it, but I don't think he's gonna
care.  I'm not even sure he knew who I was last night, and that's
just not flattering."

JC nods.  "I saw him this afternoon, and he seemed perfectly fine. 
Y'know, except that I know him.  If I'd been a reporter I'd have
thought he was having a great day."

"Exactly!  He should be upset.  Not... all acting like nothing's
wrong and he doesn't even know Joey."

"He's probably in shock.  I bet he thinks he's walking through this
really bad dream."

Chris sighs.  "I want simple, easy problems, like lawsuits and
people sleeping with people they aren't supposed to be sleeping
with.  I wanna be irresponsible, not trying to fix stuff."

"You love Lance, though."

"Well, *yeah*.  I'm fond of all of you.  Sane people would've
drowned me a long time ago."

"Exactly.  So, see?  Someone has to fix Lance.  And he's a little
insane right now, so you're perfect.  Justin can't handle it, and
Lance can't stand me when he's upset."

Chris grumbles.  "I hate it when I can actually see your point.  It
means I've lost all touch with reality.  Okay, fine.  Switch me for
Joey and I'll do whatever it is I do."

"Okay."  JC smiles.  "You can always call me if you need help."

"So you can laugh at me?  Yeah.  Sure thing."

"Good deal."  JC lifts his head a moment before places are called. 
"On with the show."

****

Chris really isn't surprised when their bodyguards herd him to the
two man bus.  JC is frighteningly efficient when it comes to
getting his way.

Lance is right beside him.  Chris has no idea what he'll say.

Lance tosses his show bag onto his bunk.  "You can have the first
shower," he says.

So now he knows.  Chris fakes a grin.  "I smell that bad, huh?"

"No, not really.  But I like to rehydrate first."  He holds up a
bottle of water in demonstration.

Chris staggers back, hand on his chest.  "It speaks!"  He bounces
up to Lance and kisses his cheek.  "I'm so proud that I'm going to
celebrate by getting naked and wet."

"Okay, you do that," Lance agrees, still a little breathless from
the show.  He chugs his water, then grabs another.  It makes his
stomach feel cold.

Chris keeps the shower short, used to having to share it with two
other people and thus having smaller shares of time.  When he comes
out, he's cleaner.

Chris comes out, toweling himself off.  "All yours."

Lance looks up from scowling at the floor.  "Thanks."  He gets up
and strips on his way into the bathroom, used to having Joey
around.  And wanting Joey to look.

Chris wolf-whistles, but heads to his bags so he can get dressed.

Lance smiles out of reflex.  Joey does that sometimes, too.

Chris has another little post-show ritual.  Nobody on his bus every
comments on it, but then, they're all exhibitionists.

But when he's clean and dry, he really likes stretching out and
feeling himself up.  Then jacking off.

And there's a really big bed in the back of this bus.

Chris drops his clothes on the bed and sprawls out, rubbing his
clean skin against the bed.

Lance comes out of the bathroom and there's no Joey on the couch. 
And there's no singing in the kitchenette.  Because Joey isn't here
and he doesn't love Lance.  In the back of the bus, Lance glimpses
Chris jerking off.  And that's cool, Joey does that all the time. 
Lance nudges the door closed in case Chris is noisy, and pulls on
heavy sweats.  He curls up on the couch and watches late night,
terrible TV.

Chris isn't sure whether he's happy or unhappy when Lance closes
the door on him.  There's a certain thrill to getting off when
someone he's not usually near could just walk in.  But then, Lance
is impossible to freak out at the best of times.

After he's done and dressed and feeling languorous and lazy, Chris
comes out front and sprawls across the couch.  "What're we
watching?"

Lance hands Chris the remote.  "Whatever you'd like."

Chris hands it back.  "I didn't come out here to have to make
choices.  I came out here to be entertained."

Lance shrugs and stares at the muted gameshow on the screen.  "Came
to the wrong place, I think."

"Did not.  TV's working.  And," Chris slides over until he's
resting comfortably against Lance, "you're here.  Seems like a good
deal to me."

"If you say so," Lance replies.

"Why?  You got a problem with me resting my weary head on you?"

"No, it's fine."

"'Cause, y'know, if you wanted to lay all over me, that'd be okay,
too.  I'm equal opportunity."  Chris studies Lance's face upside
down.  It's all blank and scary.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lance says.  He tugs the blanket off the
back of the couch around his shoulders.

"You cold?"

"Yes."

Chris rolls off the couch and stands up.  Gesturing at it, he says,
"Go ahead, lie down."

"Why?" Lance asks.

"Just do it already.  We both know you don't give a damn."

Lance frowns, just for a moment.  He opens his mouth to argue, then
decides he's too tired to.  He lays down.

Chris smiles grimly.  He ought to be triumphant over his victory,
but there's no real pleasure in it when Lance isn't himself.  It
doesn't mean anything.

He sits down on the couch in front of Lance, forcing the other man
to scoot back to make room.  When Lance does, Chris lies down in
front of him, wiggling his way in until they're both pressed
tightly together and against the back of the couch.  "Put your arm
over me and the blanket over us," Chris orders.  "You'll warm up
fast."

Lance does as he's ordered, closing his eyes.  He can't see the TV
anymore and he only wants to hear it anyway.

Chris sighs.  He has no idea if this is the right thing or not. 
Right and wrong and fixing people make his brain hurt.  So he
closes his eyes instead and just enjoys the feeling of being warm
and pleasantly satiated.

Chris snores.  It's been a while since Lance heard it, but he
somehow remembered the rhythm of it.  It's sort of soothing,
reminding him of all of them piled together and the time when they
formed the bonds that hold them close now.  Lance waits until his
eyes start to burn.  He coaxes Chris into wakefulness.  "Hey,
c'mon.  Time to get into bed."

Chris grumbles, but gets up.  He wraps his arms around himself and
stands there, eyes half-closed, hair sticking up every which way,
waiting for Lance.

Lance stands and starts gently steering Chris to the back of the
bus.  "Go on," he says at the door to the back room.  He pushes
Chris lightly toward the bed.  "Go to sleep."

Chris goes where he's pushed, but he stands at the edge of the bed,
clearly waiting for Lance.

Lance sighs and guides Chris under the covers, tucking him in
gently.  "G'night."  He heads back for his bunk.  Space that just
feels like his.

Chris lies down obediently enough, but when Lance doesn't get in
with him, he gets up and goes to Lance's bunk and starts climbing
in with him, despite the limited amount of room

Lance stops Chris.  "What?"

Chris frowns at him, eyes mostly closed.  "Goin' t'sleep.  With
you."

"Chris... can't you sleep alone?" Lance asks, honestly wondering.

"Don't wanna."

"Why?" Lance asks, knowing he's already lost.

"Wanna sleep with you.   Gotta keep you warm."

Lance sighs.  "Fine.  Crawl in, then."

Chris does so, tucking himself under Lance's chin and sighing
hugely in satisfaction as he settles himself.  "G'night."

"Good night," Lance replies.  It's not as terrible as he thought it
would be to have Chris in his space.  Chris doesn't throw off the
vibes.  Lance can still lay here and not think.

Chris falls asleep immediately, tuckered out.

****

In the morning, Lance tries to figure out how to get out of bed
without waking Chris.  He doesn't think he can.  "Chris?  Chris,
let me out."

Chris snorts in his sleep, mumbles something in an irritable tone,
and then rolls on his side so Lance can get out.

Lance climbs over Chris and heads off to make coffee.

Chris gets up a few minutes later.  Scratching, he heads for the
bathroom, then out to the kitchen, toward the smell of brewing
coffee.

Lance looks up from his laptop as Chris comes in.  "Sorry.  Should
have closed the door so the smell didn't wake you."

Chris scowls at him, then walks over to where he is and wraps his
arms around him from behind, leaning his chin down on Lance's head. 
"Woke up 'cause you left," he says, still in a grumble.  "Not
because of the coffee."

Lance stills, stiff in Chris's hold.  He doesn't want to feel this
because he doesn't want to believe this is reality.

After a minute, Chris yawns, pulls away and heads for the coffee.

Lance shivers for a long moment, then drags his attention back to
his laptop.

Chris gets the coffee and, seeing Lance doesn't have any yet, gets
him one, too.  He makes his the way he likes it, then sets the
black coffee by Lance.  He yawns again and slumps down in the chair
next to Lance's, sticking his legs out and wrapping his feet around
Lance's.  "Don't understand what's so great about mornings anyway."

Lance idly drinks coffee as he answers emails.  "Nothing."

"So why not just stay in bed?"

"If you're not asleep, there's no reason to.  Might as well get up
and start slogging through the work."

"Makework," Chris says, dismissing it.

"Make money," Lance replies.

"Already did last night.  Plus the rest of my money is off making
little money babies all by itself.  It doesn't need help."

"It doesn't have to pay back cosmonaut training," Lance notes.

Chris yawns again and takes a huge swallow of coffee.  "How much
you spend on that again?"

"A lot.  It was worth it."

"Yeah, but in round numbers."

Lance quotes back the number.

Chris snorts.  "Yeah, that's a bundle, but I can't believe you got
your panties in a wad over that."  He shakes his head and gets up,
ambling back toward the bathroom.

Lance frowns, unsure of what Chris is talking about.

Chris comes back a few minutes after there's a flush from the back. 
He drops a piece of paper on the table next to Lance.

"What's that?" Lance asks.  "And what did you mean?"

Chris rolls his eyes as he sits back down.  "Reading is
fundamental.  You've got eyes, use 'em.  And what I mean is, the
right amount of money is whatever you need to live with yourself. 
There's no magic number.  For me, it was when I hit the point
where, no matter what happens with NSYNC or my investments,
everybody I love will be taken care of."

Lance glances at the paper.  It's a check.  He hands it back to
Chris.  "Thank you, but I want to earn the money myself."

Chris hands it back.  "And I want you to stop stressing and be a
little happier.  And if I can buy that, I will."

"This will not make me happy.  This will make me a failure," Lance
says slowly.  "You were thrilled when you managed to pay for
everything important to you.  I remember when the sale of your
mother's house was finalized, when she was safe.  Let me find
that."

"But you're not happy."

"I was," Lance says.

"Blaming me for your troubles, while a time-honored tradition, is
not going to get you out of this one."

"I'm not blaming you.  I'm not blaming anyone."

"Are so, are so, are so."

"Okay."

"I hate it when you do that," Chris grumbles.

"I know."

"You know what JC said to me?" Chris asks, changing the subject. 
"He said to me that I love you.  Now, excluding the obvious point
that I have to like all of you at least a little bit, why is he
saying this to me?"

"Because JC likes to be annoying?  I don't know."

"Never mind.  Obviously I'm stupid to think I can help."  Chris has
considered, and rejected, just picking Lance up and shaking him. 
He gets up.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"*Do* you think you love me?"

Chris shrugs.  "Do you care?"

"I think so, yes."

Chris stays there.  His head is down, like it's too heavy to hold
up.  "I think I could.  And that I'm way over my head considering
I feel like I'd do anything to make you happy again and that you
don't give a damn about anything right now and even if you did,
there's the whole break-up thing.  So read in whatever you want to. 
Maybe I just have a fetish for people who need fixing."

Lance considers.  "Chris?  If you maybe wanna give me some time? 
I'll try.  I'll try to let you all help me and I'll try to get over
Joey."  He closes his eyes.  "It's not fair to you.  But I think I
might like to be close to you."

Chris approaches Lance cautiously.  "That's all I'm asking for. 
Let me in.  Let me care about you."

Lance looks up.  "Can I wait until tomorrow?"  He tries to smile at
the weak joke.  He lets the smile fall away, then.  "It just hurts
so bad right now."

Chris moves closer and tentatively rests his hand on Lance
shoulder.  "Yeah.  It's kinda obvious that you're hurting.  Walling
it up, but hurting."

Lance shivers.  "It's a bad dream.  Or it was until just now.  And
I'm afraid to let it out.  We have shows.  I have to be functional. 
And I really don't know what I'd do if I didn't hold so tightly."

"Get drunk and cry all over me?" Chris suggests.  "That's what I
had planned for before."

"No.  I think I'd throw myself under the bus or something."

"I wouldn't let you."

"I know."

"So will you get off the laptop and come talk to me and let me hold
you and warm you up, or do you still want me to go away so you can
work?"

"I never told you to go away.  I don't want to fall apart yet.  I
don't, I don't..."  Lance doubles over.  "I don't want it like
this."

"Hey, hey," Chris says, alarmed, pulling Lance back away from the
table, and kneeling in front of him, touching him.  "It's gotta
happen sometime, but if you don't want it to right now, you don't
have to.  I wasn't trying to force you.  Um, much."

Lance's arms press around Chris.  "Make it stop."

Chris holds Lance as tightly as the awkward position will allow. 
"I can't.  I wish I could.  I wish I could make it all better.  But
I can't."

"I want it to go away."

"It's not gonna go away.  Eventually you'll get used to it and
it'll hurt less, but it won't go away."  Lying would be easier, but
Chris won't lie to Lance.  About this.

"Why?  That's not fair.  This sucks."

"Yeah.  Yeah, it does."

Lance stands up and takes Chris's hand.  He leads all the way back
to the big bed and curls up.  "I suck."

Chris pulls the blankets back, then covers Lance up with them.  He
gets in behind Lance, wrapping his arm and his leg over him. 
"Always a good quality in a guy," he says, breath brushing the back
of Lance's neck.

Lance laughs.  Halfway through the sound changes to crying.  He
doesn't fight it.

Chris holds him and makes soothing sounds.  "Ssh, it's okay.  It'll
be all right.  You'll see.  Even if I have to beat up everyone
between here and Fort Worth.  You'll get better and you'll wonder
why you ever wanted him."

"Promise?" Lance chokes out.

"I promise."

Lance turns over and sobs into Chris's chest.

Chris holds him, and cries too.  But quietly, into Lance's hair.

Lance's whole body shakes.  His whole world is being shaken apart
and everything is broken.  Everything but Chris, holding firm and
holding Lance together.

****

The bus stops with a hiss of the hydraulic brakes.  Lance wakes up,
pressed tight to Chris.  He hurts, his eyes ache and his throat--
he's gonna need a lot of tea to sing this show.

"Hi," Chris says.

Lance croaks out a response.  "I'm screwed," he adds.

"Really?  Someone snuck in here when I wasn't looking and did the
dirty deed?"  Chris doesn't move.

"My voice," Lance replies.

"You got a couple of hours yet.  We're nowhere near anywhere.  It's
gotta be a gas stop.  Or a 'I just can't live without Cheetos for
one more second' stop."

Lance relaxes, choosing to believe in Chris's optimism.  "Good."

"Rest it for a while longer and it should be as fine as ever. 
Besides, you're the bass.  If you're a bit husky, it'll just make
more people swoon."

Lance makes a laughing sound and starts to ease out of Chris's
arms.  "Be right back," he says.

Chris pretends to pout.  "Promise?"

"Yeah."  He heads into the front of the bus for tea and cold
compresses for his eyes.

As soon as he's out of the room, Chris's phone rings from its place
on the bedside table.

Chris picks up the phone.  "Yo."

"Chris?  It's JC, are you doing okay over there?"

"Define 'okay'."

"Oh, no, oh dear."  JC glances out into the parking lot.  "Do you
need anything?"

"Lance's throat hurts.  I doubt there's anything he doesn't already
have here for it, but if you se something, that's about it.  So,
JC."

"Yeah?" JC asks, wringing his hands together as he searches for
something to help Lance.

"How long have I been in love with Lance?"

"*In* love?  Not too long."

"And how come I'm the last person to figure this out?"

"You're not.  Joey will be."

"Like that helps."

"No?"

"Okay, C.  Picture this.  I've suddenly discovered that I'm in love
with Lance.  Someone broke Lance's heart.  What do you think I
wanna do about it?"

"Kill Joey?"

"Excellent.  Give the man a prize."

JC pays quickly and heads for the two man bus.  "Um.  You can't
kill Joey.  I mean, he was an insensitive ass, but it's not his
fault he's straight."

"I *know* that.  But think about it.  Someone falls in love with
Lance.  What's the first thing *Joey's* gonna do when he finds
out?"

"Be an asswipe about it until I beat him down?  Come open the
door."

Chris gets up and heads to the front of the bus.  "No, you idiot,"
he says when he opens the door.  "He's gonna tell them that he'll
beat the shit out of them if they hurt Lance."  He takes the bag
from JC.

JC hangs up.  "And this is bad why?"

"Because then we'll both want to beat each other up.  No good can
come of that."

"Like I said, I'll beat him down.  With my sparkly pants, even."

Chris sighs.  "My hero.  Thanks for the stuff.  Lance is okay.  Or
as okay as anyone gets at this point."

"Hey, remind him we love him, huh?"  JC climbs up the last stair to
kiss Chris on the cheek and hug him tight.  "And don't forget we
love you, either."

"You do not.  That's just a nasty rumor, people loving me."  Chris
hugs him back.  "I promise I'll call if I need anything.  Now get
going."

"Bye!" JC chirps and hops off the bus, skipping back over to his
bus where he will start wearing Joey down.

Chris comes back in and sets the bag down on the counter.  "Care
package from JC," he says, and kisses Lance's cheek.

Lance smiles and lifts his mug of tea and the cold washcloths. 
"Bring it back to the bed?"

"Sure."  Chris picks the bag up and totes it back.

Lance settles, leaning back against the headboard.  He holds his
tea and tips his head back, putting the cold cloths over his eyes. 
"What'd he get?" he asks, between sips of tea.

Chris piles blankets over Lance, then dumps the bag out.  "Huh. 
Cough drops.  Lots of little packages of vitamins."  Chris examines
one carefully.  "New Age crap vitamins.  OJ.  No candy at all. 
Stupid JC."

Lance smiles a little.  "Did you check all the way under the pile?" 
He can feel something cold against his leg.  He's not really
surprised when Chris says there's also Mt. Dew and chocolate
Riesen's.  He is surprised when Chris finds the throat numbing
spray stuff.  That's cool.

"Okay, so I don't hate him after all.  He's back on my Christmas
list."

"Good."

"You know I didn't really *mean* that I hate him.  Right?"

"Yeah, I know.  You're too good to hate him."

"Okay, well, *that's* not true.  But you're cute anyway."

"Yes, the blotchy and red look is good for me."

"Every look's good on you.  You're just gorgeous that way."

"Layin' it on a little thick, there, aren't you?"

"Guess it depends whether you think I'm full of shit and making it
all up."

"Mmm."  Lance keeps quiet and drinks his tea.

Which means that's exactly what Lance thinks.  Chris doesn't see
any way to fix it though.  He picks up the items JC got for them
and stashes them away, then gets back in the bed.  It's warm and
flat and these are all good qualities in Chris' opinion, especially
when coupled with the presence of Lance.

Lance waits until the cloth over his eyes is warm.  "Chris?  I
gotta rewet this, you need anything from the kitchen?"

"Nope.  I'm good."

"Okay."  Lance goes to rewet the cloth and suddenly notices that
Joey's toothbrush is still in the bathroom.  All of Joey's things
are here, and Joey isn't and Joey doesn't love him.

Chris is pretty close to just falling back to sleep.  Gotta
replenish the energy reserves, after all.  But Lance doesn't come
back and doesn't come back, and finally Chris gets up and goes to
look for him.

Lance is sitting on the couch, starting at one of Joey's t-shirts,
crumpled in the corner.

Chris tucks himself under Lance's shoulder.  "Whatcha doing?"

"Hmm?"  Lance becomes aware of the wetness seeping over his knee. 
"Oh.  Uh.  I was just thinking about how... His stuff is here and
he's not.  And he won't be, not how I wanted."

"Is that so bad?"

"Right now it feels pretty bad.  I know that it's not.  It just...
feels that way."

"Gotcha.  Dani leaving just about killed me, and we were fighting
so much by then that you'd think I wouldn't care at all.  But
somehow, I never figured that she'd just leave.

"At least that makes sense.  I mean.  Joey wasn't even dating me."

Chris shrugs, and scootches around until he's lying face up in
Lance's lap.  "Not trying to make sense.  Just kinda trying to say
that you're not alone.  If it helps.  If it doesn't, well, I'm the
annoying one.  Everybody'd understand if you took a swing at me or
threw me off the bus or whatever."

"I shouldn't feel like this.  It's stupid.  He never loved me."

"It's not stupid.  And he still loves you."

Lance sighs.  "Every time I think about it, it feels like someone
is tearing me in half."

"I don't have any answers.  My relationship track record is
terrible."

"Not really."

"You're wrong, but you're unhappy, so I'll let it pass."

Lance leans back.  "I'm not unhappy.  I'm fucking shattered."

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to do."

"Mourn."

"How?"

"Lots of ways.  All of them, really, just not at the same time. 
Cry, get drunk, blame yourself, blame other people, blame him, get
angry, have rebound sex.  Stuff like that."

"What if I can't stop?"

"You will eventually," Chris predicts confidently.  "But you can't
avoid it."

"Why not?"

"'Cause that's what the whole grieving process is about."

"I don't want to grieve.  I want to make this all not real."

"Can't help you with that.  The leprechaun blood's very weak on my
side of the family."

Lance sighs and falls sideways, resting his head against Chris's
side.

It's kinda awkward with both of them lying sideways to each other. 
"Wanna go back to bed?"

"Do I have to think?"

"Nope.  Just move."

"Okay."

Chris ushers Lance to bed.  This time, Lance curls up on Chris. 
Chris chooses to take this as a positive sign.

"I think I'm going to sleep again."

"Okay.  I'll be right here."

"Okay."

Chris closes his eyes and concentrates on the man in his arms.  On
Lance's breathing, which is more ragged than steady.

Eventually, Lance manages to force the static of his mind to quiet
enough for him to sleep.  Anything to keep from thinking.

When Lance finally falls asleep, Chris does, too.  One of the best
things about sharing busses and one of the main reasons why he'd
never want his own bus, is getting to curl up and sleep with
someone.

****

Lance wonders if his lips are bleeding.  He's been smiling so
stupidly for so long now.  But he just doesn't know what else to
do.  They're all together and he can't let himself feel what he
feels-- but he can't stop it either.  So he just smiles and prays
for the show to start, please God, let the show start.

Chris sticks close to Lance.  He keeps waiting for Lance to snap at
him and tell him to stop hovering, but Lance never does.  On the
other hand, JC keeps giving him knowing grins.

Lance smiles himself right into the Quiet Room and before Chris can
enter, the door snaps shut.  Lance looks up.  It's Joey, of course. 
Who else would it be?  "Hello."

Joey's large brown eyes look down on him, worried.  "You okay?"

"No."

Joey comes closer, opening his arms to envelope Lance in a hug. 
"Anything I can do?"

Lance falls into Joey's arms, even knowing that it's a terrible
idea.  "Love me back."

"I do love you.  Just not like you want me to."

"Then I don't think there's anything you can do," Lance mumbles
into Joey's shoulder.  "Except let me go because I can't get upset
right now.  I have to sing."

"You... are you all right with Chris?  He's not driving you nuts or
anything?"

"No.  He's being pretty good to me.  Um.  I-if you wanted to... I
don't.  I don't mean to keep you out of your bus, Joe," Lance says,
frowning.

Joey shrugs as he releases Lance.  "Dunno.  Probably for the best
if you can't stand the sight of me.  And.  Uh.  JC says Chris is in
love with you.  He's not jerking you around or anything, is he?"

"I love the sight of you.  Which kinda sucks right now.  JC says
what?"

"Chris is in love with you."

"Oh.  Okay."

Joey sighs and hugs him again.  "I'm sorry.  I wasn't trying to
hurt you."

Lance stands stiffly.  "I know you weren't.  But you didn't exactly
try to stop me for the last seven years, either."

Joey backs up, eyebrows knitting.  "You're my best friend," he says
slowly.  "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Yeah.  I know.  And it will be all right eventually.  At least,
Chris says it will.  But right now, it's not.  I'm sorry."

Joey nods.  "I get it.  S'okay."

"Thanks.  And, uh.  Congratulations."

"Thanks."  Joey grins.  "I've been trying to keep it to myself,
'cause, y'know," he gestures at Lance.  "But this is like the best
thing to ever happen to me."

Lance smiles.  His lips have to be bleeding.  "I think I need to go
to makeup now.  Congratulations again."  He slips to the door
quickly.

Chris is standing right outside the door, scowling.  He sees Lance
and much of the irritation vanishes from his face.  He hands Lance
a small container of Carmex.  "Here's the lip stuff you wanted."

"Thanks."  Lance puts it on, then momentarily drops his head to
Chris's shoulder.  "Okay.  I'm good now."

Chris has already and automatically wrapped his arms around Lance's
waist.  "Okay.  If you say so."

"I have to be, we sing soon."

"Eh, who cares about that?  We do that all the time.  Boring."

"The billion people who paid around eighty dollars each care."

"Yeah, but they'd like us just as much if we didn't sing at all and
just stood there and shook our booty."

"Our collective booty?" Lance asks.

"Nah.  JC has no ass and Justin?  Even worse.  Just me and you,
baby.  That's what they're here to see."

"FKA."

"You know it."  Chris pecks him on the cheek and lets him go.  "Go
get prettier.  We can't disappoint our public."

"Okay."  Lance goes.  And maybe things aren't as completely
shattered as he'd thought, because he wants to come back.  And see
Chris.

****

Time passes, as time tends to do.  Joey moves back to the two-man
bus, but Lance finds himself spending more and more time on the
other bus.  He just sits with Chris and plays video games.  Or
Chris comes over to his bus and they watch TV.  Anything so that
Lance doesn't have to hear Joey talking to Kelly all the time.  Or,
God forbid, talk to her himself.  She asks about him.  She wants to
talk to him, because of course, Lance has to be in the wedding. 
For fuck's sake, he has to be in the *wedding*.  

Lance gets better, but he wonders if it's real.  Maybe he's still
lying to himself, still expecting it all to be a bad dream.  He's
not sure.  He only knows that Joey fills him with despair and love
at the same time, and Chris-- Chris is starting to make him feel
safe.

Chris knocks on Lance's hotel room door.

Lance wearily pulls himself off the bed.  Since Kelly announced
she'd be joining them this weekend, everything seems to take twice
as much effort as it should.  Still, he's glad to let Chris in.

"Hey," Chris says nervously, gaze shifting around the room.  "Can
I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, c'mon and sit down."  Lance leads the way to the couch.

Chris sits down, fidgeting with his hands.  "Look.  You know I love
you, right?"

Lance reaches out to still Chris before he can rip off a hangnail
or something.  "Yeah.  I remember."

Chris looks down at Lance's hand sitting on top of his.  "So, um. 
It's been months and months.  And I think maybe it's time you gave
me the 'let's just be friends' speech."

"I think maybe it's time I gave you the 'I'm afraid to date you in
case I'm not over Joey and I break your heart, which would kill me'
speech," Lance says, also looking at their hands.

"Yeah.  That one, too.  Whichever one will get it into my stupid
head that you're not ever gonna love me so I can get on with the
grieving thing, too."

"Um.  I, uh.  I didn't say that.  But I can, if you want me to." 
Lance swallows hard.  "I want to try, Chris, I really do.  But what
if I break you?  That's not good."

Chris turns his hands under Lance's so he can hold them.  "Hey, no. 
I'm not telling you you have to love me.  I know you can't, and
it's cool.  Or it will be, once I get it into my stupid head.  I
just need you to make it all official-like, so I can stop hoping."

"I don't want you to stop hoping.  I want to start hoping.  I..." 
But this is exactly what Joey did to him.  And that's not fair. 
Lance breathes deeply.  "Okay.  Uh, yeah."

"Yeah, what?" Chris looks hopeful.

Lance opens his mouth to say, 'No, I don't love you and I don't
think I ever will.'  What comes out is, "Chris.  I'm not in love
with you.  And I think I will be if you please don't leave. 
Please, please don't leave me."

Chris' eyes open wide, and then he's kneeling in front of Lance,
wrapping his arms around him.  "I can do that.  Or I won't do that. 
Whichever one makes more sense."

Lance lifts Chris's face and kisses him.  "I love you.  I'll fall
in love with you, I promise.  Real soon."

Chris kisses him back.  It's the first time he's kissed Lance on
the mouth since this all began.  "I can wait," he says breathlessly
when Lance pulls back.  "As long as there's something to wait for,
I can wait."

Lance slides to the floor, pressed to Chris.  "I'm missing one of
the steps of grieving, you know."

Chris gets as close to Lance as he can.  "What's that?"

"Rebound sex.  You wanna be my rebound sex?  And then we can start
dating.  And I'll have rebounded already."

"That was the plan all along," Chris confesses.  "Cheer you up with
the pleasures of the FKA."

"Woot."

"So you think maybe you wanna??  With me?  I know I'm not Joey..."

"Joey doesn't have an FKA."

"That a yes, then?"

"Uh huh."

"Bed?" Chris asks, licking his lips.

"Uh huh."

"Wanna move to the bed?"

"Please."

Chris grins and helps Lance up.  "Love you."

"Love you too.  But not in love with you yet.  Not until after the
rebound."

Chris guides Lance to the bed, and then lies down over him.  He
strokes Lance's cheek and says very seriously, "You're going to
break the poor rebound's heart when you leave him, y'know.  You're
just too easy to fall in love with."

"Yeah, well.  I've got something better than rebound waiting for
me."  Lance reaches up, wrapping his arms around Chris's neck. 
"Better than fairy tales and dreams."

"Yeah?"  Chris nuzzles Lance's throat.  "You sure about that?"

"Oh, yeah."

Chris grins at him and doesn't waste any more time getting to the
rebound sex.  'Cause sex is nice and all, but he wants Lance.