Pairing: Joey and Lance
Words: prone; natty; molten; hayfever


"Do not make me come over there and force your allergy medication
on you.  I swear to God, I will whup your ass if I have to."  Lance
glares at Joey, though it's less effective when he has to stop
glaring to push his glasses back up his nose.

Joey contorts his face to keep himself from sneezing.  "'m fine."

Lance glares.  "Take the medicine, Joey.  You don't want to compare
me in pissed off caretaker mode to plain old hayfever, do you?"

"Lance... c'mon, it's not that bad.  I can stand it.  It's better
than what the pills do."

"Which is what again?"

Joey remembers that his reaction to his medicine is one he doesn't
want Lance to know about.  Ever.  But lying doesn't come naturally
to him.  "Uh.  I just don't wanna take it.  It makes me feel
funny."

"How funny?" Lance asks, drying his hands.  "Right now, or I'll
make *you* finish the dishes."

"I'll do the dishes," Joey volunteers.

Lance straddles Joey on the couch.  "Tell me."  He puts a hand
against the back of the couch on either side of Joey's shoulders,
trapping him.

About five more seconds, and Lance'll know and Joey won't even have
to take the allergy pills.  "Get up and I'll take them."

"No!  Can't make me!"

Joey considers Lance carefully.  "Get up or I'll tickle you."

Lance's eyes widen.  "You wouldn't dare."

Joey grins and starts tickling, fingers seeking out Lance's
sensitive sides and reaching under his shirt for even more
sensitive skin.

"Noooo!"  Lance laughs and curls up, trying to hide his sensitive
body.  "Joey, Joey, Joey!"

Joey tickles Lance mercilessly until Lance is lying on the floor
begging.  Then he kisses Lance on the tip of his nose and goes to
wash the dishes.

Lance crawls after Joey when he gets his breath back.  "Joe! 
Jooooooey!  Hey, you.  The one with the natty shoes who had
rendered me prone.  Freak.  Come down here and play."

"Nope.  Doing the dishes."

Lance lolls at Joey's feet.  "If you come down here right now, I'll
do that thing you like."

Joey's eyebrows raise.  "*What* thing I like?"

"With the..." Lance pops his lips.

Joey has no idea what Lance is talking about, but then, when Lance
does that, all Joey can think about are blowjobs.  "I don't like
that."

"Liar," Lance whispers.

Joey ignores that.  Plus he has no idea what Lance is talking
about.

"Joey?  NSYNC's been over for a year.  When are you going to ask me
out?"

Joey drops the dish.  Because it's slippery.  "I... uh.  What?"

"Ask me out, Joey."

"You wanna go out to eat?"

"Sure, if it's a date.  And then we can come back here and make
out, since we've basically been dating for thirteen years."

"I'm not... Lance.  I'm not..."  Joey bows his head over the sink,
hands bracing him.  "I..."

"Do not *even* lie to me."

Is it a lie if you've been denying it to yourself?  Joey doesn't
know.  "Ask me why I didn't want to take the allergy pills."

"Why didn't you want to take the allergy pills?" Lance dutifully
repeats.

Joey doesn't look up from the sink full of dishes and soapy water. 
"Because when I take them, I forget.  I relax.  I start rubbing
myself all over you."

Lance stands and gets the medication.  "Joey?  Take the pills."

Joey turns around, away from the sink.  He looks up, but he's
shame-faced as he does it.

Lance takes Joey's soapy hands in his and squeezes.  "I love you. 
You know I love you."

"Yeah, but not like that."

"I love you like that," Lance says confidently.  Because every way
there is to love, Lance loves Joey.

A hand holding two of his allergy pills reaches out.  Joey takes
them and washes them down with water.  "Maybe you do," Joey says,
not quite meeting Lance's eyes, "but me.  Lance, I love you every
which way.  You know that.  But it's... I can't.  I'm not.  I want
to, but when I try to let myself feel it, it's like there's this
huge stop sign in front of my face saying I can't."

"You know why?" Lance asks.  He leads Joey back to the couch and
lays him down.  Lance cuddles against him and waits for Joey to
think through the answer.

"Um.  Only stupid stuff you'd laugh at and I don't even believe."

"Tell me anyway," Lance orders.

Joey looks over Lance's head.  "If I get with you, then I'm gay. 
I'm not a real man."  His voice gets small.  "I have to give up
girls."

Lance nods.  "I understand.  And even though you know that you're
*not* gay, just because you happen to be attracted to me, you can't
help how you feel.  And you're still a real man."  He sighs.  "But,
yeah.  You'd have to give up girls."

Joey shrugs.  "I told you it was stupid."

"It's not stupid."

"It is when I want you more."

"More than what?" Lance asks softly.

"More than what I want."

"You want me more than what you want?"

"Yeah."

Lance frowns and lays his head on Joey's shoulder.  "So, you're
saying that you want me more than you want to be straight or a real
man or girls?"

"Yeah."  Joey hopes Lance doesn't make fun of him for saying that. 
Lance is usually good about taking him seriously though.

"I want you more than I want anything else, except for you to be
happy."

"Me, too," Joey says softly.

Lance smiles.  "Then we'll both be happy.  It might just take a
little work."

Joey lets himself stroke Lance's arm.  In a not-platonic kind of
way.  "You think?"

"Oh, yeah."

Slowly, Joey smiles.