Pairing: Justin and Lance
Words: park; cornflakes; body shot; danger


It's not like they hang out all that often.  Not just the two of
them.  But for some reason, today they are.  Hanging out.  Justin
scarfed down cornflakes in place of apple jacks, and Lance ate
toast, and they got a ball and headed for the park-- all without a
word.

Lance thinks he must be insane.  Holding up the basketball and
tilting his head at Justin... sure, Justin could've said no, but
Lance is going to get his ass kicked, and he doesn't even know why. 
Except for the whole Chris thing.

Justin checks the ball and bounces it back.  "Let's go."

Lance nods.

They play.  The game starts out friendly, and gets progressively
less so.  Justin's up, but only by two points.

The game turns vicious fast from Lance's point of view.  Justin
hates losing and he loves basketball.  Lance also thinks Justin's
angry about Chris, even though Justin never says so.  That makes
Lance kinda angry back, because he didn't ask to share a room with
Chris and if Justin'd just say something about *why* he's upset,
maybe they could try fixing whatever it is.

He knows it's dangerous.  He knows someone could get hurt.  He
knows *better*.  But he does it anyway.  He slams into Lance, a
perfect body shot.  Only Lance isn't the one who falls down.  The
guy's surprisingly solid when he wants to be, and it's Justin who
ends up going ass over teakettle across the asphalt and into the
fence.

Lance doesn't laugh.  It's not that he doesn't feel like it when he
sees Justin fall down, but because he's had the breath knocked out
of him.

Justin gets up and steals the ball and makes a basket.  He ignores
the blood on his knees and elbows and palms.

Briefly, Lance considers stopping the game and trying to force
Justin to talk about whatever's wrong, but he's pretty sure that
won't work, so he concentrates on beating Justin.

Lance is winning.  *Lance* is winning.  Against *Justin*.  Justin
plays harder, managing to trip himself a couple more times in the
process.  Lance is getting perilously close to the cutoff.  He's
going to win, and Justin's going to lose.  Again.

Amazingly, Lance seems to be ahead of Justin on points.  The more
angry Justin gets, the worse he plays.  Lance might even win.

Lance wins.  Justin takes the ball and throws it at the fence as
hard as he can.  The instant he does it, he knows it's a bad idea
for a lot of reasons.  It shows how immature he is, as if Lance
needs another demonstration.  It's not controlling his temper, and
with it uncontrolled, Justin might just go ahead and beat Lance up. 
It's not good sportsmanship and Chris would be ashamed of him. 
And, of course, because for every action there is an equal and
opposite reaction.  The ball bounces back and hits him in the face.

Lance manages to turn the snigger into a cough, but it's not easy. 
It's not so much that he wants to twit Justin over being a poor
loser, it's just that he's finally seeing the amazing Justin fail
at something.

Justin screams and kicks the fucking ball.  And of course, *Lance*
isn't gonna go get it.  Justin follows after, wiping away tears --
of pain and nothing else.  He hopes Lance is gone when he turns
around.  He finally catches the damn ball.  It's got bloody marks
on it.  For a petty instant, Justin hopes Lance gets mono from him
or something.

It doesn't look like Justin's temper tantrum is ever going to end. 
Lance considers doing a couple different things, but in the end, he
just shrugs and walks over to Justin.  "If  you're mad at me, why
don't you just hit me and get it over with?"

Justin sniffs.  "I'm not mad at you."  He shrugs.  "I just hate
your very existence.  But I like you.  It's confusing."

"You hate me because of Chris," Lance says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah."

"I don't know what you think I can do about it."

"Nothing.  It's not your fault he likes you more."

"He does not."

"He looks at you."  Justin frowns at the ball.  "You look at him. 
And you're gonna... you're gonna go out together.  And be together. 
And I can't do that because I'm too young and not gay enough."

Lance's mouth drops open.  "I am not!  I... no way!  I thought you
were mad 'cause I get to share a room with him and you have to stay
with your mom."

"Lance, you *look* at him.  And I *saw* your ex-boyfriend.  You
even introduced him as your... friend."  Justin frowns.  "And Chris
looks at you, because you're so fucking pretty."

"My *what*?  You think I'm *what*?"

"You're gay.  Or, like, part gay."

"I'm not gay," Lance says definitely.  He thinks maybe hanging
around these guys is *making* him gay, but he wasn't gay prior to
leaving Mississippi.  He's sure of that.

"It's okay to be gay.  Chris is gay.  Well-- partially."

"Is he gay?" Lance asks.  "Or do you want him to be gay 'cause you
like him?"

"He was with Jason."

"Oh."  No one talks about Jason.  It's like he never existed.

Justin looks up at Lance.  "You're not gay at all?  You can tell
me, you know.  I won't hate you or anything.  I kissed a boy once."

"I never thought about guys that way before."

Justin sighs and puts his arm around Lance's shoulders.  "Let's go
home."

Lance nods and turns toward the house.  He worries his lip for a
few seconds, then says, "Since I got here, I keep thinking about
guys.  Not Chris though.  Not much."

Justin nods.  "There're just so many.  And they're so nice.  It's
hard to know how to feel, because they're like family, but not. 
And you love them.  It was like that with MMC, too.  'Cause JC was
like my brother, but not, and I love him."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"So, um, are you going to keep being mad at me?  Because, if
there's any danger of that, I want to know so we can stock up on
band-aids for you."

"I'll try not to," Justin offers.  He picks gravel out of his palm. 
"It doesn't hurt that bad," he lies.

"Right."  Lance isn't going to question Justin's manliness.

"I do like you."

"Thanks."

Justin nods, like everything is settled.