Pairing: JC and Lance
Words: live nude girls; miaow; little salsa god; whore


Lance looked up again at the sign blinking "Live Nude Girls" and
sighed.  "Why am I doing this again?"

Justin poked him in the side.  "Because you're a good friend and
you want to help me get over Britney."

"No, I'm fairly sure that wasn't it.  You've got Trace for that."

"All right, dude, if you want to be an asshole about it, you know
it's because you got caught shaking it with Howie on the club down
on 9th.  How could you be so dumb as to do it in public, man? 
C'mon."

"Like you've never..."

"No.  Never.  And you know it.  Virgin, remember?"

"*You* are not a virgin."

Justin rolled his eyes.  "Yes, I realize that.  Hello?  I was there
at the time.  But you've got to protect the image."

"And it makes sense to go from the image of being a highly public
virgin to going to a strip club and making it with one of the
dancers?  From saint to whore in one easy step.  Congratulations."

"Better that than grabbing the little salsa god's ass in full view
of a reporter."

"Miaow."

"Takes one to know one."

"Yeah, fine, whatever.  We going to do this or what?"

Justin pulled his shoulders back.  "We're going to do this.  I'm
going to show the world that I'm over Britney, and you're going to
show the world that you're not doing a Backstreet Boy."

Lance shook his head.  "I'm going to need some alcohol for this."

"It's a bar.  I'm sure they've got some.  C'mon, already."

He really didn't want to do this.  "Can't I just watch?"

"No.  You are going to stuff money in these women's thongs, if they
have any.  You are going to get a lap dance.  You are going to lick
whipped cream off their breasts if that's what it takes to show
everyone that Lance Bass is not gay."

"Lots of alcohol."

****

Lance woke up, opened his eyes and staggered to the bathroom. 
Walked into a wall and *really* opened his eyes this time.

Not his house.  Okay, that explained everything.  Took a sidestep
to the right, walked through the door, and wow.  Bathroom.  Much
better.

JC's bathroom, in fact.  Which made it safe to open the medicine
cabinet, find a bottle of ibuprofen and take four.  He didn't
remember getting there, which made it a safe bet that he'd been
very drunk, but since the last thing he remembered clearly was
Justin shaking up a can of whipped cream, he didn't really want to
remember anything after that.

Came out again not feeling very much better and went in search of
his host.

JC was in the den, reading.  He looked up when Lance came in. 
"Good afternoon.  How are you?"

Lance sat down next to him on the couch.  "Not all that great. 
How'd I get here last night?"

"This morning.  Justin dropped you off."

"He dropped me off *here*?  Why would he do that?"  He patted
himself down and found what he was looking for.  "I still have my
keys; I could've gone home."

"You really don't remember?"

Lance ran a hand through his hair.  "No.  I don't.  I don't want to
remember last night, thank you.  What I do remember about Affirm
Your Heterosexuality Night is bad enough."

"Oh.  Well, you insisted on it.  You wouldn't let him take you
home."

"I wouldn't?"

"No."  JC shook his head.  "You asked me to let you stay.  Kinda
grabbed me by the shoulders actually and held on and said you were
feeling lonely and you needed me and would I give you shelter?  And
then you started singing, so I took you upstairs and put you to
bed."

"Oh, man."  Lance covered his face with his hand.  "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right.  I mean, what are friends for?"

"Thanks."

"No problem.  Anytime."  JC bumped Lance's shoulder companionably
with his own.  "So, you feeling any better now?  Than you were last
night?"

"No.  But it's over with, and that's the important thing."

"Um, well, actually, Justin said something about making sure you
sobered up enough by tonight so you could do it again.  That it
wouldn't be convincing unless it looked like something you were in
the habit of doing?"

"Oh, lord."  Lance slumped down into the couch.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, it's not your fault I was stupid.  Or that Britney dumped
Justin.  I should be the one apologizing.  Again.  I mean, I came
over here and probably woke you up and you didn't need that, not
when you didn't do anything..."

JC wrapped his arm around his shoulders.  "No, no.  It's all right. 
You were lonely.  And, you know.  I will.  Be your shelter.  If
that's what you want."

Lance looked up at JC, who was looking earnest and maybe a little
awkward, but entirely serious.  "Yeah," he said, letting his head
rest back against the couch, against JC's arm.  "I want that."

JC started petting his hair, and Lance closed his eyes.  He didn't
know what this was, if it was anything at all.  It wasn't illicit
groping in a dark club, wasn't sex or even anything he really
understood.

But he thought maybe he needed it.