Pairing: Lance and Justin
Words: inversion; fragrant; fruit salad; lounge


This is a lie.  Like a dream is a lie that's better than reality
and more painful at the same time.

So anyway, this is how it happens:

Lance graduates college and goes to work in the high tech industry. 
There's a big boom on, and he wants to get the most out of it.  He
could be rich before he's 25.  It's happened to people he knows.

Only it doesn't.

There's a new president -- always a danger sign, Lance thinks later
-- and then some planes crash and then the market crashes and then
Lance loses his job.  His really good job.

For a while, he's in denial, thinking he'll get work again soon. 
He's young, he's gifted at what he does, surely the market will
rebound.  He lives off his savings and waits and looks.

But there's nothing, and the real end of hope comes when he takes
a job doing tech support for just over minimum wage because at
least that is with computers even if it doesn't really leave enough
to support himself.  Supporting himself meaning rent and gas money,
with food optional and entertainment out of the question.

It's only temporary, he tells himself, but it's been two years and
tech support is still the best he can get and Lance knows: he won't
be rich when he's 25.  He'll be lucky to get there at all, and
he'll be older when he does.  And harder.

So when he closes his eyes and wishes on a star for something
different, it's because he doesn't see any way out.

Which makes what happens next such a shock.  Such an inversion of
his reality.

****

"Go back to sleep, baby, it's too early to be awake," Justin
mumbles when Lance opens his eyes to early dawn light.

Lance blinks.  Blinks again.  Everything's still there.  A wall of
white sheets and navy blue pillows and someone else lying next to
him.  *Lying* next to him, as though a second ago he wasn't staring
out his apartment window looking at the stars.  He obeys the voice
and closes his eyes.  He knows he must be dreaming.

Justin leans up and kisses Lance gently.  "Love you."  And he goes
back to sleep, too.

His lips tingle.  Another guy just kissed him.  Said he loved him. 
Lance doesn't know anyone other than his mother who'll say that to
him now.  He gave up friends along with being happy and working and
having a future.  This dream is a lot more real than he wants it to
be.

Except you aren't supposed to be able to tell you're dreaming if
it's a dream.  He read that once somewhere.  If you can ask
yourself 'is this a dream?' and not know the answer, then it's a
dream.

Lance knows this isn't a dream.  There's the scent of something
fragrant in the air, fruited and sweet, warm like it isn't warm
where Lance ended up living.

He gets up.

Justin makes a protesting sound and curls around Lance's pillow. 
But if Lance isn't back from the bathroom soon, Justin's gonna have
to get up.  He can't sleep without Lance any more.

Lance investigates the house.  He's wearing pajama bottoms that he
scooped off the floor, although why he'd bothered wearing them if
he was just going to get naked in the bed confused him.  Not that
*he* had done it, but it was weird.

The bathroom's huge and gaudy.  Even in all his dreams of being
rich, Lance'd never thought of getting gold fixtures.  He averts
his eyes as he uses the toilet.  The bathtub though -- it looks
like the best kind of hedonistic pleasure.  He doesn't use it.

The house is multi-story and there's endless amounts of rooms. 
Most of it's not to his taste, and he keeps feeling that dreamlike
quality, at least until he finds the -- well, in this house, it'd
have to be a study.  That room is done in his favorite colors, wood
floors with rich carpeting, golden brown wood walls and books. 
What convinces him though is not that, but the computer set up. 
The gear is all better than he can afford now -- he's using the rig
he bought a year and a half ago when he still thought things would
turn around -- but the layout's identical to his, with the split
hand keyboard Lance favors, the trackball mouse, the PDA in its
cradle and the monitor angled just the right way.

He sits down in the chair and cries.

Justin finds Lance.  Lance is crying.  Justin stands behind him and
holds him.

Lance sniffs and wipes his face.  "Sorry about that."

"It's all right.  You wanna tell me about it?"

"You won't believe me," Lance says miserably.

"Of course I will.  I always believe you."

Lance nods, because what else can he do?  He looks up at the
unfamiliar face.  "Hi.  I'm Lance Bass and I have absolutely no
idea who you are or where I am."

Justin blinks.  "I'm glad I put on pants, then."

Lance's mouth quirks.  "I was naked in the bed.  I wouldn't have
been shocked."

"Yeah, but did you *look*?" Justin asks, smiling back.

"No.  That would have been intrusive."

"I knew it."  Justin grins.  "C'mon, let's move to the couch."  He
drags Lance over to a corduroy loveseat and curls up around him. 
"Okay.  How old are you?  I'm Justin Timberlake, by the way. 
Justin."

"You believe me," Lance says, stunned.  "And, um, I'm 24."

"Okay.  So at least you're not, like, from the past before we met. 
It'd be way icky if you were fifteen."  Justin sighs heavily.  "Are
you gay?  Or bi?  Or should I stop touching you?"

"I'm... straight but not narrow?" Lance offers.  "And I don't mind
you touching me.  It's kinda... comforting, what with the shock of
being here and all."

"Okay.  We're together here.  For two years."  Justin hooks his
chin over Lance's shoulder for a second.  "Right.  Do you want me
to tell you the story first, or do you wanna tell me?"

Lance lets his breath out in a sound that's half-sob, half-chuckle. 
"For whatever good it'll do.  I'm not convinced that I'm not
dreaming or that I haven't gone crazy or even that I didn't get
knocked over the head and all of us this is because I'm lying
somewhere in a coma.  I.  I'm in tech support.  Currently living in
Washington.  I used to be an engineer.  Good with software and
hardware both.  Then stuff happened and the industry went bad and
now I'm broke and trying just to stay in a job that relates to
technology somehow.  I... a little while ago, maybe an hour?  I
made a wish on a star.  I wanted my life to change.  And when I
opened my eyes again, I was in bed with you."

Justin nods.  "Okay.  Sorry I keep saying that, by the way.  I'm a
little shocked.  Here, in this life, we're a group called NSYNC. 
There are five of us.  You sing bass, Joey -- he's your best friend
-- sings baritone.  JC and I sing tenor, and Chris does the high
parts.  We've been a group for nearly eight years now.  Started out
touring in Germany, where we were a hit.  Came back to the US,
whole bunch of shit went down, we're a hit here, too.  We're rich
and famous.  I love you.  Your parents live in Clinton, Mississippi
and mine live in Tennessee and we split the holidays.  We're on
hiatus right now.  Indefinitely."

Lance nods.  They have that much in common.  "My parents live in
Clinton, too."

"Cool."

"I'm.  I'm still in shock."  He has a disturbing thought and turns
his face up to Justin.  "I hope... I'd rather this was a dream than
real.  If I displaced your Lance and put him in my life... that'd
be just wrong."

"I don't think it works that way.  It didn't work that way when
Joey ended up with a twin.  See, shit like this *happens* in our
lives.  Random, weird, fantastic stuff.  I turned into a girl once. 
I go' beh'uh!" Justin says in a Monty Python accent.

"Oh."  Lance assimilates this.  "So you're saying that eventually
things will right themselves -- get better -- and you'll have your
Lance back and I'll be back in my life?"

"No.  Joey's twin didn't go away.  Chris never got old again. 
Sometimes it stays.  I was a girl for a reason, I think.  And once
I learned that I could love you even though you were an icky boy,
it was okay to go back."

"You have a friend who doesn't age?"

"No, see.  Chris just got really old and worn down all of a sudden. 
It was all mental.  And then his body got young again, and his mind
managed to follow along.  He's aging.  It's just like he jumped
back ten years, though."

"Huh.  I'm confused, but it's okay, I guess."  Lance shakes his
head.   "So, um, this is your house, right?"

"It's ours.  The gaudy parts were here before you moved in.  We're
eliminating them slowly."

"Oh.  'Cause, y'know, this is the only room I feel comfortable in."

"Yeah.  We're compromising on a lot of it.  I'm trying."  Justin
sighs.  "I just have terrible taste.  Don't repeat that, by the
way."

Lance arches his eyebrows.  "To who?  I don't know anybody here
and, even if there was anyone at home who I could tell about this,
I doubt they know you either."

"Yeah, but we all pretend I don't have terrible taste.  So.  Did
you want to go back to sleep for a while?  I can make coffee if you
want.  Later on the guys'll be over.  I'll tell them what's going
on."

"You're all close to each other?" Lance asks.  He tries to remember
what having friends was like, but he doesn't remember ever just
showing up at their houses.

"Yes.  But we actually arranged today.  We're hosting a BBQ.  It's
just them, though, so we don't have to try to cover who you are."

"Um.  If it's so normal, these things happening, why would you have
to cover it?"

"To people outside the group.  We don't tell the fans."

"You said you'd been on break for two years.  You're that famous?"

"Well, yeah.  But we've only been on hiatus a year.  Lance and I've
been together two."

"Oh."  Lance tries to remember if Justin said it that way or not. 
He can't.  He's not even sure what the names were of the people who
are coming over later.  The baritone's his best friend, that's what
he remembers.  "Still... you're on break and people are going to
notice that I'm not the real Lance?"

"People would, *if* we were doing interviews.  But Lance hasn't
been, so it's okay.  After the space thing, people don't expect you
to be all happy about interviews."

Lance shakes his head.  He doesn't want to know.  He already has
too much to process and, besides, with all the weirdness Justin's
already described, the reference could mean anything.  "So... uh,
what do I do?"

Justin frowns a little.  "Could you elaborate?"

"Now.  What do I do now that I'm here and everything?"  Lance waves
his hand helplessly.  "You're acting like all of this is normal and
that's great, because it wouldn't help at all if you were yelling
at me and demanding to know what I did with your boyfriend.  Or
partner.  Whatever the right term is.  But I don't even know where
to find clothes."

"Well, if you want to go back to sleep, we do that.  Together or
separately.  And then I'll give you a tour after the sun comes up. 
If you don't, we do the tour now and you can play with the computer
-- I know you want to -- while *I* sleep."

"It's only about 9 p.m. to me.  I'm not... if I go to bed and fall
asleep, I won't be up again for a long time."

"That's okay, too.  We've got... seven or eight hours until people
show up."

Lance nods.  "Okay, then.  I'll... try to sleep."  Maybe it'll all
be gone when he wakes up.  He doesn't know that it wants it to be
gone.

"Okay."  Justin leads Lance back to the main bedroom.  It's done up
the way Lance likes, so he'll take a guest room if Lance isn't
about the sharing.  "You wanna be alone?"

"It's your bed.  I don't want to kick you out of it."

"That wasn't the question.  And it's your bed."

Lance's mouth twists.  It's not.  He's very aware of his bed.  He
spent a lot of money on it, back when he had money, and it traveled
into poorness along with him.  "I... don't mind.  But I don't know
if I'll sleep.  With you or without you.  It'll be weird sleeping
with anyone and I don't know if I *can* sleep."

Justin smiles sadly and tousles Lance's hair.  "I'll let you be
then.  That dresser is all your clothes.  I'll be right across the
hall.  Feel free to whatever you like."

Lance nods.  "Okay.  And, uh.  Thank you.  For not freaking out. 
And for understanding and stuff."

"Not a problem, babe."  Justin kisses Lance's forehead softly. 
"You still have to make the fruit salad.  I suck at it."

"Yeah, okay.  I can do that."  Probably.  There's got to be a
recipe for fruit salad somewhere, and Lance is good at following
instructions.

"Thanks."  Justin leaves, heading for a bed he knows will feel too
big and too cold -- but he'll still sleep.  He's always tired.

Lance goes to bed, too.  He leaves the pajamas on, because it feels
weird being naked in someone else's bed.  It would have felt
weirder though, having Justin in it with him.  Lance doesn't sleep
with girls much, never did, not even back in the day.  That would
have meant having a long term relationship with someone, and Lance
had always been more about his work than the people around him. 
Yet another reason why losing it made his life fall apart like it
had.

****

When Lance wakes up again, he's surprised that he fell asleep at
all, but not that surprised to find himself in the blue and white
bed.  His dreams had been scarier actually, full of insinuations
that *this* was the dream and that his life is just going to get
more miserable.  That might even still be true.  Lance makes
himself get up and take a shower.

The clothes in the dresser don't look a whole lot like his, but
then, most people didn't put button down shirts in a dresser.  The
shirts aren't exactly what he would have chosen, but the khakis
are, and he grabs a t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts to wear.

Justin changes the inversion of the fifth chord, guitar propped on
his crossed legs.  He's on the third run of the verse when he sees
Lance in the doorway.  He flushes.  "Hey."

Lance nods.  "Hi.  So, um.  We play instruments, too?"

"Sorta.  You play piano."

"That's cool."

"We don't play while we sing, though.  We dance."

Lance blinks.  "We *what*?"

"Dance?  Like, to choreography."

"I can't dance."

Justin smiles.  "There's another thing you have in common with our
Lance.  He couldn't before the group, either."

"That must've taken a lot of work."  Lance means it.  He's tried
dancing.  Getting laughed at isn't one of his favorite things.

"Yeah.  It was worth it."

Lance nods.  "Okay, um.  Fruit salad?  I'll get started on that."

Justin puts the guitar aside.  "Tour first."  It take about an
hour.  They end in the kitchen.  "I'll do whatever.  I just can't
slice fruit any more.  Not allowed.  Y'know, one little slip, and
people get all cranky."  He displays a puckered scar across his
palm.  It's not nearly as bad as it once was.

Lance bites his lip, then exposes his arm.  Justin either hasn't
noticed yet or is too polite to mention it.  "Yeah, um, except not
a whole lot of people noticed and it was a stupid idea to start
with."

Justin nods.  He lifts Lance's arms to his lips and kisses the
scar.  "We noticed."

"Your Lance has one too?" Lance asks, holding still and shivering.

"Yeah, only he got plastic surgery.  It's not as noticeable.  Not
that this is bad."  Justin kisses it again.  "It's just part of
being Lance."

Lance doesn't pull his arm away.  It's frightening, somehow, to
think that, even with all these advantages, this Lance tried to
kill himself too.

"The surroundings change the person, the way the person acts.  But
don't be fooled.  We're the same people.  And we've had hard times,
too.  In this place, Lance and I didn't go to college.  We didn't
even finish high school the way normal people do.  Career is all we
had at one point.  And it almost got taken from us."

"Mine, too," Lance says, and finds the will to take his arm back. 
"So, yeah.  Fruit salad.  I can do that.  I'm... I'm okay with
knives.  It isn't something that's gonna happen again."  Not like
that anyway.

Justin nods.  "I know."

He turns away himself and starts working on the meats.  After
putting an assortment of fruit on the counter along with the Bass
Family Fruit Salad Recipe TM.

Lance sees the recipe and feels relieved.  He wouldn't know what to
do without one.  The fact that it's in his mother's handwriting is
a different story, and he concentrates instead on cutting up the
fruit.

He does it so successfully that he's got the fruit salad made and
in the refrigerator before he notices that Justin's cleaned up
behind him.

"Oh, hey, thanks," he says.  "You didn't have to.  I would have."

Justin shrugs.  "Not a problem."

After a moment, Lance pauses.  "Okay," he nods.  "Is what I'm
wearing okay?  I didn't know how I should dress."

"Whatever you wanna wear is totally fine.  It's casual."  Justin
sticks the meat on the grill along with vegetable skewers.  "Are
you a vegetarian?"

"No.  I like most stuff."

"Cool.  That makes you way easier to cook for now.  Plus you won't
make faces at me for being a carnivore."  Justin grins over his
shoulder.

"Oh.  I'm a vegetarian, then?"  Lance makes a face.  "That's just
weird.  I can't imagine giving up steak."

"Me either," Justin agrees fervently.

There's questions Lance wants to ask Justin, things that seem more
urgent now than they did before, but then there's the sound of
voices coming through the house and Lance inches away.

Justin takes Lance's hand and leads him toward the voices.  "Hey,
guys.  This is Lance.  He's not our Lance.  He's, like, alternate
universe Lance.  He's a computer genius, but the world doesn't
recognize it, so he works tech.  And I think he just thought of
questions, so I'm gonna go to the lounge and answer them.  Joey,
watch the steak.  Chris, I don't want rare steak.  JC, Lance isn't
a vegetarian, so you have to watch the veggie sticks yourself." 
Justin introduces them each to Lance by name and then leads him
into the lounge off the entryway.  "Okay.  Questions?"

"Okay.  Questions?"

Lance shakes his head quickly.  "No.  Go talk to your friends. 
It's fine.  They're here now.  Won't they get upset if you don't
pay attention to them?"

"Nope."  Justin sits on an ottoman.

"Oh."  Lance shakes his head.  Now he really doesn't want to ask. 
But Justin is staring at him and Lance has a feeling that, for all
of his pliability and niceness, he's a stubborn kind of guy.  "It's
just... I don't want to leave.  I don't want to go back, and you've
got to be missing your Lance.  You're acting so okay about it, but
I don't know why you don't hate me."

"Because you are my Lance.  Inside.  I believe that.  I'm upset,
yeah.  And I don't *expect* you to be *mine*.  I'll miss that.  But
I liked courting you.  I'll do it again, if you'll let me.  My
Lance... I believe that my Lance is either in you or with God." 
Justin tears up and sniffles hard for a moment.

Lance freezes, then drops to his knees.  He still remembers how
Justin held him while he cried this morning.  He puts an arm around
him.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to remind you of painful stuff. 
I just wanted..."  He shakes his head.  "I'm sorry, okay?"

"No, no!"  Justin hugs Lance tightly.  "It's okay.  Change is part
of life, I know that.  Just being melancholy for a minute."  He
sniffles again and gets himself under control.  "Don't ever be
sorry for asking a question.  You told me that.  So, next
question?"

"That was it.  I'm terrified that this won't last.  I'm terrified
of the guys out there and that I'll ruin this somehow.  You've been
wonderful and it's really much more than I deserve."

"It's not.  But they won't care.  And I'll do my very best to make
it last.  I think it'll only end if you want it to, though."

"Do you want me to?  Want me to want it to end?  So you can have
your life back?"  There's a hitch in his voice.

"No.  No, I don't.  To be honest -- I think I might have been
losing my Lance.  I think I might have wished to have a chance to
really show you how much you mean to me and how special you are."

"Oh."  That's a little more than Lance can handle right at the
moment.  "So um.  Introduce me to the guys again.  I forgot
already."

"Not a problem."  Justin gets up and leads the way into the
kitchen.  It's confusing and sad at first.  And then it's buoyant
and far too fun.  And then they all get drunk and it's too much of
both at the same time.  Lance passes out.  Justin carries him to
bed.  Joey cries himself to sleep in Chris's arms with JC curled
against his back.  Justin and Chris carry Joey to the downstairs
guest room with JC crawling along behind.  Justin takes himself
upstairs and crawls into bed with Lance without thinking.  He
remembers to sleep on top of the covers, though he's not sure why. 
Tomorrow he'll know.

Lance wakes up again and it's still real.  Maybe someday that'll
get less surprising.  He sneaks out of bed, takes a shower and
heads downstairs to get something to eat.  Justin doesn't stir at
all when he gets back from the shower or gets dressed.  Lance
figures that they must all have been really quite drunk.

In the kitchen, the short, dark-haired one is sitting at the table. 
"Chris, right?" he ventures.

Chris nods.  "Yeah."

Lance slides toward the refrigerator, feeling like an intruder.  He
has no idea what they have to eat.  Leftovers, probably, assuming
someone put things away.  Yes.  Fruit salad and leftover chicken. 
After a hunt, he settles on using a real plate and a real bowl --
china, too, which is not the paper he'd be using at home -- it's
the stuff his momma would have on display in a cabinet in the
parlor.  He finds the microwave after a hunt -- one more gleaming
appliance in a huge array of them -- and nukes the chicken.

When he's done, he returns to the table.  Unfortunately, Chris is
still there.

Chris rolls his eyes as Lance sits down.  "You don't have to act so
scared, kid.  No one's gonna hurt you."

Lance glances up, startled.  After a moment, his mouth quirks into
a wry half-smile.  "You could.  You could start yelling and throw
me out.  I don't see why you haven't.  I'm not your friend, and
even if Justin says he isn't upset, I would be if I were him.  I'm
an interloper."

Chris shrugs.  "We could, but there's not much point to it.  Not
when these things usually work out for the best if you leave them
alone.  It's not like you chose this."

"I made a wish.  Normally," Lance's lips are still quirked,
"*normally*, I'd say that wishing doesn't make things happen, but
I'm beginning to think it does here."

"You want to unmake it?"

"Don't you want me to?  Don't you want your friend back?"

Chris shrugs again.  "I don't know.  Maybe it was his idea and he
wished to go someplace where he isn't famous and he can make
himself successful all on his own.  Maybe he's trying to prove
something to himself.  Maybe you're where you're supposed to be. 
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't fuck with
fate."

"Because it all ends happily ever after if you don't?" Lance asks,
thinking that this place is like some sort of weird whacked-out
fairy tale.

"No.  Because it fucks with you if you do.  And I don't know about
you, but I don't like being fucked with.  I *like* my life the way
it is."

Lance has nothing to say to that, so he eats his chicken.  He hates
his life, or his life as it was the day before yesterday.  He has
no idea what his life is like now or if he can even call it his
life, when he has no idea how long this is going to last.

"Ever heard of NSYNC?"

"Not before yesterday."

"Hmm.  How about the Backstreet Boys?"

Lance shakes his head.

"98 Degrees?"

"Are these bands?"  Lance wrinkles his nose.  "Are they the guys
who perform naked with just their instruments?"

"No, that's Blink 182.  So you've heard of them."

"They sound familiar."

Chris does a bit of 'All The Small Things' and Lance nods.  "Yeah. 
I know them."

"Celine Dion?"

Lance makes a face.  "Yes."

"Garth Brooks?"

"Of course."

"Mariah Carey?"

"Yes."

"Paula Abdul?"

"Yes."

"O-Town?"

"Nope."

"Huh."  Chris subsides.

"I like country music mostly."

Chris rolls his eyes.  "I *know* that, Bass.  I'm just wondering
where your world started differing from ours.  From what I got from
Justin, you grew up just like our Lance, but you never sang and you
went off to college.  I'm trying to figure out if it's because you
didn't sing at all or if we exist at all in your world."

Lance shrugs.  "I sang.  Show choir.  Nothing special."

"So you never got a call from Justin asking you to audition for a
new musical group?"

"No.  I never heard of him before yesterday."

Chris looks thoughtful.  "I wonder if it's not that we don't exist,
but it's that Lou didn't exist.  He was a bastard, but he did get
us started, and Backstreet, too.  We've always dreamed of a world
without Lou, but maybe he was a necessary evil."

Lance shrugs again.  He has no idea who Chris is talking about.

"Because if we do exist, one thing you should keep in mind when or
if you go back home is trying to find us."

Lance swallows his mouthful of chicken and raises his eyebrows. 
"Why?  They won't know who I am."

"It's a karmic thing.  Or it has been so far, with us.  Like we're
destined to be together."

Lance looks skeptical.

Chris gives him a hard look.  "You don't have to believe me, but
just ask yourself -- how did you get where you are right now?"

"Okay.  Good point."

"So, yeah.  I'll get you a list of some information you should
memorize.  Names, phone numbers, stuff like that."

"Phone numbers?"

"Not our current numbers.  But those of people you can contact. 
Addresses, too.  Of people who stay put.  Like if I was trying to
get a hold of you and I didn't know where in the world you were,
I'd look for your parents first, because I know they've been in the
same place as long as I've known them."

Lance nods.  "True."

"Joey's parents, Justin's real dad and JC's parents are all pretty
stable.  You should be able to find at least one of them."  Chris
grimaces.  "Hopefully at least some of us will know each other.  I
can't give you a place to look for me.  My mom was always moving
around and I was too.  If we're talking parallel evolution, you may
be able to start with the place I went to college.  Maybe somebody
there'd know what I ended up doing."

Lance shakes his head.  "But why?  I mean... why bother doing all
that?  What's the point?"

"Because maybe it'll help.  Maybe it'll give you something to do if
you end up going back."  Chris reaches out for Lance's hand.  Lance
flinches back, but Chris is fast and strong, and he grabs it and
turns Lance's arm over, stroking the top of the scar where it
starts at his wrist.  "Because you may not be my Lance, but it
kills me to see any Lance this unhappy."

****

Justin wakes up alone and that's really not all that unusual,
except that he knows Lance is gone.  Not, like, forever.  But his
Lance, the one who remembers dancing on the roof, that one is gone. 
And it will be all right, seriously.  Even if Justin is kinda
sniffling.  He loves Lance a lot.  A.  Lot.  But he's already
letting go of the connection.

He hates himself for that.  If he loves Lance so much, how can he
let go like this?  How can he just accept that his Lance is dead
and this Lance isn't the same, and still feel okay?  But he is. 
Justin's okay.  It's what he does.  He survives and finds happiness
or makes it if he has to.

Jaded, spoiled, mean, bitchy, demanding, needy -- Justin's all of
those things.  But he's also adaptable and he honestly wants to be
happy.  Something he learned from Chris, to want happiness even
when it seems miles away.  And, since no one is gonna give it to
you, to make your own.

Justin rubs his nose with the back of his hand, gets up and
showers, dresses, and goes to find Lance and make some new
happiness.

****

Chris goes home before Lance can ask him about stuff like how old
he really is now and where Joey's twin is and what other stuff has
happened to them. But it doesn't bother him too much, because then
he can go upstairs and properly worship the computer.

Ah. Gorgeous system. He loses himself quickly.

Justin smiles, leaning against the doorjam. This part is just like
his Lance. He doesn't bother the other man, except to set a
sandwich next to him near meal time.

Lance looks up guiltily when the plate appears next to his elbow.
"Oh. Hi. I'm sorry -- I just got caught up in this."

"I understand. It's not a problem. Just -- you look as skinny as I
expected. I'm used to reminding y-Lance to eat." Justin frowns. "Do
you want me to refer to him in a certain way?"

"I -- I don't care. I -- it's bad enough that I'm taking his place.
I can't steal his name, too. Just as long as you aren't confusing
us, it doesn't matter to me. And, um. I don't eat a lot." Lance
shrugs. He isn't going to go into the reasons if Justin doesn't
ask. His life is already pathetic enough. Talking about it makes
him sound like a complete waste of space.

Justin smiles again, even if it is strained. "It's okay. If you
don't mind me saying -- I can tell. Chris used to look like that.
When we started."

Lance tries not to flush. "Yeah, well, it's easy not to care about
eating when you work on the computer a lot. It takes your mind off
of... other stuff."

"Yeah." Justin hugs Lance, like he did that first night. "It's
okay, though."

"You can feed me up while I'm here at least," Lance agrees. "I
don't need to spend time on the computer, no matter how fabulous it
is. A computer's a computer." He pushes away from the desk, a light
entering his eyes. "Heck. If I have to go back, maybe you should
show me what's fun and fabulous about being rich and famous. Make
some memories to take back with me."

Justin grins. "That's a thought. But if you wanna play, you can."

"I can play on a computer any time." Lance gives him a wry grin.
"In fact, that's just about the only thing I do at home. Show me
something else. Please?"

"Okay."

Lance smiles and stands up. He's not going to tell Justin how long
it's been since he's had fun with actual people.

It takes hours. It takes all day. It involves amusement parks and
restaurants and clubs and dance halls. It involves boats and
jetskiing. It involves every single thing Justin can think of that
Lance likes. And they get home at four in the morning. Justin
didn't even notice the time past, though he ends up sunburned and
full and sweaty with dancing.

Lance is happy and laughing when they get back to the house. "Is it
always like that? People coming up to you and wanting to talk to
you and touch you?"

"Yeah. It can get a little scary sometimes, but usually it's cool
like that."

"It *was* cool. They all liked you. *And* me. It was a little
bizarre though. And the jet skiing! Lord. I've never had that much
fun."

Justin grins. "Plus you look way hot in a wetsuit."

Lance splutters, then laughs. "I almost forgot about that. About
you dating me.  The other me."

Justin shrugs. "This is about how we are. In public, anyway."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "The having fun part or something else?
I'm not sure what you mean."

"Like everything we did today and the way we were together? That's
exactly how me and Lance act in public." Justin rubs his short
hair. "I kept forgetting I couldn't kiss you when no one was
looking."

"Oh." Lance doesn't remind him that he's not gay. He figures Justin
doesn't need any more reminders that Lance isn't his boyfriend.
"That's -- I liked how you were. Friendly. It's easy having a good
time with you. I feel like I've known you a lot longer than a
couple of days."

Justin smiles shyly. "Yeah?"

Lance nods. "Yeah. You're funny, you think I'm funny. You always
have stuff to say and you have great ideas. What's not to like?"

"I'm 'arrogant and annoying and a spoiled brat who always has to
have his way'?"

"If you are, I hadn't noticed. Much. You know you're good -- and
it's obvious you are. You've done a lot more than I have with your
life in a lot less time. And I *asked* you to show me around."

"I couldn't have done it without y'all." Justin grabs Lance's hand
and drags him upstairs. "Here. Lay down."

Lance obeys, but looks up at him. "What for?"

"Turn over, dork." Justin gets the massage oil from the dresser
top. "Your back'll be all messed tomorrow if I don't do this."

Lance studies him for a long moment, then nods.  "All right," he
says, stripping off his shirt.  "I trust you."  And he lies down on
his stomach.

Justin works his way down from Lance's hairline to his pants, then
back up.  "There."  He kisses the back of Lance's neck, a habit,
and recaps the oil.  "All done."

Lance turns over slowly.  He's okay with the whole getting turned
on thing.  He's male; it happens.  When he was 16, fire hydrants
were a turn-on.  As was sunrise, sunset, busses, and pretty much
everything else as well.  He just hopes Justin isn't getting him
confused with the other Lance.  "Thanks."

Justin's hard, too.  "N-not a problem," he murmurs.  He seem to
pull his gaze away.

"You gonna be okay?  You got a little red."

"What?"

"Your back," Lance says.  "You got too much sun.  Are you okay?"

"Oh!  Lemme check."  Justin scrambles off the bed and finds his
calendar.  "Yeah.  I'm good, nothing this week."

Lance regards him bemusedly.  "You do realize you're making
absolutely no sense, right?"

"Huh?  Oh!  I don't have to do any photoshoots this week, so it's
okay for me to be burned."

Lance scratches his stubble.  "And if it wasn't okay?"

I'd probably have a laser peel or something.  It's better than the
stupid makeup."  Justin shrugs.  "Okay.  G'night.  Or good morning,
whichever."

"Do I need to worry about anything like that?"

"Lance keeps all his clothes on for planned shoots."

"And you don't?"  Lance can't quite wrap his head around this.  He
looks Justin over more carefully.  Okay, so he's got a body that
looks like he spends hours every day on it, but some guys do that,
right?  "You've got a lot invested in your image, don't you?" he
asks slowly.  "You're... a sex symbol."

Justin nods.  "Yeah.  It worked out that way.  I'm arrogant and
someone had to do it.  Might as well be me.  I always wanted to be
every person from twelve to ninety's wet dream."  His voice is
perfectly bland.  It's a moot point.

"I'm sorry."

Justin smiles.  "You're sweet."

Lance shrugs.  "You just sound like you hate it.  Like you feel
forced into it."

"I'm not going to make anyone else do it."

"From what Chris said, I guess you guys are all really close.  I --
I think they'd want to help out if they knew you were upset about
it."

Justin sighs and lies next to Lance.  "Maybe.  Anyway.  Aren't you
tired yet?  It's late!"

"A little.  It was a good day.  I don't want it to end."

Justin smiles.  "Okay.  So lay down and tell me a story.  And then
I'll tell you one."

Lance finds it easy to lie down next to Justin.  Justin's been part
of his wonderful day, and him leaving would end it, too.  "I don't
know if my stories are any good.  It's not like I have an exciting
life.  Most thrilling thing I do all day is go home and play games
on the Internet.  And I'm fairly sure telling you about how I once
discovered a flaw in a schematic that would have cost the company
millions of dollars if it'd been put into production would put you
right to sleep.  Um.  How about a stupid user story from tech
support?  I've got a lot of those."

Justin smiles and listens.  He listens behind the words, and loves
Lance's voice.  Especially when it gets sleepy.  And then he offers
a story told him by one of the roadies in return.  The continue
trading off until suddenly the clock is chiming nine and Justin's
eyes are gritty.  But he's happy.

Lance doesn't remember falling asleep.  Just talking and listening
until he's out.  He's pleasantly content the whole time though.  He
still doesn't know what to think about everything, like how the
other Lance is Justin's boyfriend and Justin misses him -- but he
likes Justin for himself a lot.

****

Justin can barely breathe, he's that close.  Lance is there and
pressing down against him just right.  Justin wakes, opening his
eyes.  Lance is asleep, clearly asleep, but thrusting back.  Justin
moans.

Lance is having a good dream.  A very good dream.  He's awake
enough to be aware that it's a dream, but not so awake that he's in
danger of actually waking up.  It's a tricky place to keep himself
at, but there's sex in his dream and it's the closest he's come to
the real thing in a long time, so he keeps going.

He's dancing with a half-naked someone and they can't keep their
hands off of him.  They keep whispering in his ear that he's hot,
and in his dream he figures it's because he's the famous Lance, and
that's almost enough to ruin it, but he's still a little awake, and
in his dream, he decides he wants to be half-naked, too.  And then
he is.  Skin against skin.  Oh.

Justin's thigh presses up between Lance's as he mumbles drowsy
endearments into Lance's hair.

The someone doesn't back away.  Doesn't stop dancing up against
him, and Lance is grateful for that, because that sometimes happens
in dreams, how the good parts get vague or turn weird.  He's gonna
come right there, just humping this person's leg and they want it. 
They're calling his name.

Lance is doing it, getting hotter and higher, and he feels the rush
at the exact same moment he realizes that the someone he's grinding
against is male.  In the dream, that's fine.  That's more than
fine, and he just keeps going until he's coming and gasping.

And awake.

Justin arches his head back and sighs.  He loves the way Lance
sounds when he comes.  It always brings Justin off, too.

It takes a second for Lance to orient himself.  Reality's too much
like the dream and his reality's been getting stranger and
stranger, and they mix for a moment.  He's in bed with his dance
partner and he's awake all at the same time and that's impossible.

Then he realizes.  He's lying on top of Justin and he's sticky and
he just had a wet dream all over the other man.  The gay aspect of
it hits him a second later, and with it, the knowledge that he's
just done something contemptible to Justin.

Lance pulls away.

Justin takes another moment to realize what's happened.  He rolls
onto his side and looks at Lance.  "I'm not mad.  Are you?"

Lance's eyes are closed.  "I'm mad at myself.  I'm sorry.  That
shouldn't have happened."

"Ah.  I don't regret it.  I know you do, but I want you to know I
don't.  I don't mind.  I know enough about you to know you wouldn't
use me like that."  Justin smiles and touches Lance's forehead.  "I
wouldn't use you either.  I'm sorry that you're upset, and I'm
sorry I didn't stop myself."

"Yeah, well."

"Yeah.  Um.  If you're freaking, I'll talk you through it.  Or go
away, whichever you need."

"I'm freaking.  A little," Lance admits, not opening his eyes.

"I can tell.  Do you wanna tell me *why* you're freaking?"

"What order do you want the list in?" Lance asks.  Joking helps a
little.  "You're a guy.  I just got off on you.  Which makes me
what?  You want the person I look like, which is a huge issue right
there.  And *that*, what just happened there, is the most sex I've
had in at least two years.  Pick an issue."

"Okay.  I can't help you with the gay-type issues.  I can say that
you were asleep, so don't read too much into it.  You probably
thought I was a girl for a long time.  I do want the person you
look like, I miss him.  But I want you, too.  What I know of you. 
As for the time period, well.  See the first response.  And, uh. 
Glad to help?"  Justin crinkles his forehead bemusedly.  "I think."

Lance groans when Justin says that he wants him.  It's bad enough
knowing you're the living likeness of someone's gay lover.  It's
worse knowing they want you, too.  "No.  Doesn't help much.  Thanks
anyway."

Justin sighs.  "Look, I'm sorry.  I'm really pretty gay.  Had to
deal with that way back and I'm not going back into denial now. 
You're just fan-fucking-tastic, so of course I like you.  But I'll
make sure, absolutely sure, to sleep somewhere else from now on,
okay?  I don't want you to feel bad."

Lance shakes his head.  "Not your fault.  It's mine.  And I
wasn't..."  He flushes, still concentrating on the insides of his
eyelids.  "It'd be easy if I *had* been dreaming about a girl. 
Y'know?"

"Yes," Justin says firmly.  "I know exactly what you mean.  I never
slept with guys before Lance."

"Oh.  Wow."  Lance opens his eyes and risks a sideways glance at
Justin.  "I would never have guessed.  Especially with what you
said about denial.  I would've figured that you... well, it's
stupid, but I would have figured that being gay comes with the,
y'know, lifestyle."

Justin laughs easily.  "Nah.  I'm bi, Lance -- my Lance -- is bi. 
The other guys are straight."

"Wouldn't have figured that either, the way y'all, um, touch each
other."

"For about the last seven years, ten months out of the year, we
were the only people we saw everyday.  We're closer than family
because we had to be to stay sane."

"Huh."  Lance doesn't completely get that, doesn't know what that
would be like, but it's not an ungettable concept either.  Just
something foreign to his experience.  A new datum.  He looks at
Justin again.  Justin doesn't look upset.  "So, um, mad at me?"

"No.  Why would I be?"

Lance shrugs.  "Just figured you would be."

"Why?"

"Because you should be?  I dunno."

"I don't understand.  I'm-- I'm sort of interpersonally retarded. 
Sorry."

Lance gives him a full smile at that.  "So'm I.  Why do you think
I get along so well with computers?"

"Because you're smart enough not to end up on the Blue Screen of
Death when you try to play solitaire?"

"Nice computers don't go down," Lance says with a flash of teeth.

Justin snickers.

"So, friends still?  Or whatever we are?"

"Yes.  Probably forever.  Takes a lot to get rid of me."

Lance smiles more easily.  "Good.  My current worry is that you're
going to decide you've had enough of me and I'll be left to figure
everything out on my own.  Even just being left *here* would be
overwhelming."

"Um.  Nope.  Keeping you, however I can."

"However you can?" Lance questions.

"As a friend, as an acquaintance, as a roommate -- housemate. 
Whatever."

"You mean like even if your Lance came back?"

"Yes.  It would be -- very hard to choose between you, if you're
here and he's not for a while."

"You'd think the sex would be a factor," Lance says neutrally.  It
could be a joke.

Justin sighs and turns onto his stomach.  "Lance and I aren't doing
that right now.  We were fighting, to be honest.  I'm pretty sure
he was cheating on me."

"Oh.  I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault.  It's not his either."

"Why isn't it his fault?  If he's cheating, then that's definitely
his fault.  Me, I don't have enough good things in my life to just
throw something away like that.  I can't honestly see why the other
me would."

"I'm demanding.  I'm kind of a bitch.  He's got a right to someone
who doesn't always argue with him," Justin says.  It's familiar
ground.  He's heard Lance say it often.

"And it's never occurred to the other me that I'm a selfish prick
who likes everything my own way and gets upset when I don't have
it?"

Justin laughs.  "It has, yeah."

Lance shakes his head.  "I still don't get it.  You seem like a
perfectly nice guy to me.  Do you morph into a demanding monster
when you're in a relationship?  Because the more I'm hearing about
the other me, the less guilty I feel that I ended up here.  He
sounds like he kinda deserves some misery."

Justin buries all but his eyes in the pillow.  His voice is
muffled.  "He used to be sweet.  Like you."

Lance can't help the bark of laughter.  "I am *not* sweet.  Scared
of my mind, but *not* sweet."  He feels concerned for Justin
though, and he reaches over and touches him on the shoulder.

Justin ducks his face lower, blushing.  "Are too," he mumbles.

"Every day I murmur fervent prayers under my breath.  'Dear God,
please strike this stupid user dead.  Dear Lord, if you would let
me kill this person, I would be eternally grateful.  Yours,
truly.'"

"Yeah, but see.  You're making the world a better *place*!"

"By trying to remove everyone who irritates me?  No.  I'm not. 
When I'm not pissed off, I'm sure I haven't helped those poor
people very well.  And then they're gonna go off and make more
people miserable and -- I'm no saint.  That's all."

"Saints aren't allowed to do anything fun."

"Fun.  What's that like again?"

"Yesterday."

"Yeah."  Lance smiles.  "I liked that."

"Me, too."

"I take it that you don't get to have fun very often either?"

"Not like that."

"Why not?"

"Well, usually I either don't have anyone who wants to have that
much fun with me, or I'm with someone who reminds me to stick to my
image."

"What sort of image do you have?  I'm guessing it doesn't fit my
picture of you at all."

"Oh.  Mostly I'm just supposed to act more mature.  Super
confident, all diva-ish.  Too old for fun and games.  But also be
a total womanizer.  I don't get it."

"How old are you?  I think you told me, but I can't remember."

"Twenty two and a half."

"That's not old."  After a pause, Lance says, "Maybe I'm theorizing
ahead of the data, but it seems like the other Lance was either
buying into your image or you were starting to become it."

"Maybe both.  See, Lance went off to Russia to become a cosmonaut,
and I did a solo tour.  We were apart and both under a lot of
stress and both alone for the first time in years."

"To become a what?" Lance asks quietly.  He knows what he heard,
but he can't quite believe it.

"A cosmonaut.  A Russian astronaut.  The certification's down in
his study."

"How did we -- he go up?  Where?"  Wow, he thinks.  The rich really
are different.

"He didn't get to go," Justin says.  "He got fucked over by his
backers."

"Oh.  That sucks."  Lance thinks about it for a while.  "That must
have been when I -- he tried to do it."  He fingers his forearm.

"No.  It was-- it was before.  A while ago."

"Oh."  Lance isn't sure what to think of his other self.  'Spoiled
brat' is coming to mind, but he doesn't really know the other him.

"We had a lawsuit for our name.  Lance was really, really in the
front of the fight.  And it just seemed so... lost."  Justin
shrugs.

"I guess doing stupid things is a tendency of Lances everywhere,"
Lance says, trying to make it funny.  He really doesn't want to
talk about this.  "Um, subject change, please?"

"Uh huh.  So.  Are you less freaked at all?" Justin asks hopefully.

To be honest, Lance stopped thinking about *that* a while ago. 
"Yeah."

"Yay!"

Lance smiles.  Making Justin happy seems like something Lances are
congenitally fond of.  "Going to show me more stuff today?"

"Anything you wanna see."

"But I don't know what there *is* to see."

"Okay.  Well, you've got the nifty computer setup.  Look up Orlando
tourist attractions and I'll make some omelettes, okay?"

"You can go to tourist attractions?"

"Sure.  I have to wear a hat and not do anything special, but we
can go."

"Would it be better then not to?" Lance's voice is wistful.

"Nah.  Besides, all we have to do if we're recognized is sign
autographs."

Lance shrugs.  "That's easy.  It seems weird being special to
people all of a sudden, but the way you get smiled at..." his face
lights up.  It's nice.

"Yeah."

Lance gets up.  "Okay.  I'll do research then."  He grabs some
clean clothes and heads for the shower.  The morning's
embarrassment has been wiped away.  He feels comfortable with
Justin.  Something about Justin puts him at ease.  It's like Justin
knows precisely what to say and how to say it to make Lance be
receptive to what he's being told.  Which, come to think of, Justin
probably does.

Justin stands up and stretches, popping his back painfully.  He
showers in the guest room.

By the time breakfast arrives at his elbow, Lance has come to a
conclusion.  He takes the plate and smiles at Justin.  "Thanks. 
But I'm afraid I didn't do all that well.  There's just too many
things to do.  You'd need months to do everything."

"We're on hiatus.  We have months."  Justin sits down, sliding
behind Lance in the spacious desk chair.  "Name five things you've
looked at."

Lance jumps when Justin sits down in the chair with him.  He
glances at Justin, but Justin doesn't seem to notice anything
wrong.  He decides not to say anything.  It's clear both that
Justin is used to touching the members of his group a lot, and that
he misses his Lance.  It isn't anything personal.  "The Disney
water park... um... I forgot the name.  The Cirque du Soleil.  The
roller coasters at Universal, all of the restaurants, and Paradise
Island."

"Okay.  If you wanna ease into the being noticed, the Cirque is
good.  It's Thursday, so we might wanna wait on Paradise Island
until the week starts up again.  Blizzard Beach rocks.  And if you
want Universal, we can arrange to go one of the closeout dates. 
They kinda hold them for famous-type people."

"How famous are we?"

"That famous."

Lance nods.  The answer doesn't mean anything to him, but then, he
supposes it's not a question that necessarily has a meaningful
answer.  "If you want to, then I'd love to do some or all of that."

"Okay.  I'll call for Cirque tickets, you call for Blizzard Beach."

"Do I have to tell them anything special?"

"Nope.  Oh.  You might tell them VIP if they say they're sold out
or something.  There's a code... here."  Justin hands the little
book to Lance.

Lance shakes his head and picks up the telephone.

Justin grins.  It's gonna be another fun day.

****

It's another long, fun day.  Lance is more careful with the
sunscreen this time.  He can't believe how much he enjoys the
water.  In Washington, the ocean's dangerous and the water's cold. 
Here... He loves it.

But even better than the sun and the water and the playing and the
way that people in authority seem to bend over backward to help
them out, is Justin.

Justin's always at hand, which is good, because Lance is fairly
sure he'd have a panic attack if he got left here on his own.  But
Justin stays within reach or least within shouting distance the
whole time.  And he's just as receptive to Lance's small, wry
jokes.  It feels good that Justin seems to think that he's smart
and clever and interesting and funny.  If he knew anyone back home
that appreciated him this much, they'd be friends.

And then there's the other issue.

Justin's always touching him.  Nothing objectionable.  But Justin's
huggy for a guy, and then there's how every so often Lance will
feel a hand in the small of his back, or on his shoulder or
somewhere as Justin shows him what to look at or where to go.

He likes it way too much to want to give it up.

In the car on the way home -- which Lance graciously agrees to
drive -- Justin smiles happily at nothing.  "Jeez.  Thank you.  I
forgot how amazing Cirque du Soleil is.  You're brilliant."

"I've wanted to see it for a long time.  There's a lot of
conventions that go through Vegas, and every time I was there, I'd
see the sign up for their show, but they were always booked.  I
kept thinking I should go sometime.  And the name's hard to
forget."

Justin nods.  "That'd be a fun job.  Being one of the singers I
mean.  Did you know they don't have any music?  They just make it
up."

"They do?  I'm even more impressed.  If that's possible."

"Right up here.  There's the gate.  8-1-1-5."

Lance pulls up and enters the code.

Justin sighs happily as they finally pull into the garage.  "Yay. 
You like your car?"

"My car?"

"This.  It's yours."

"Oh."  Lance gets it.  "It's his car."

"He's not here and you are.  It's yours."

Lance flashes him a smile.  "I think of it all as yours."

"Not this thing, please.  It hates me."  Justin grins and undoes
his seatbelt.  "It's stalled on me three times and blown two flats. 
For no reason.  It hates me."

"This?" Lance compares it with his '89 Dodge Dynasty that he'd been
lucky to pick up with $500 and that he has to baby along wherever
he goes.  "It's a great car."

"Yes.  I know.  So there's no reason for it to break down, other
than that it hates me."  Justin grins.  "See?"

Lance concedes the point.  "I knew a guy once who could kill a
photocopier just by walking up to it.  Some people are like that."

Justin pouts comically.  "It *hates* me.  I'm *crushed*."

"Well, I like you," Lance says off-handedly.

Justin smiles again.  "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I like you, too."

Lance's brain catches up with his mouth and he ducks his head. 
"Thanks."

"Want a snack?" Justin asks, changing the subject for Lance's
comfort.  And so he won't do something stupid like lean over and
kiss Lance.

"Something to drink?  I'm not really hungry, but I'm thirsty."

"Sure."  In the kitchen, Justin sorts through the contents of the
fridge.  "Uh.  Alcoholic or non?"

"I was thinking water or something of the juice variety.  Should I
have said beer?"

"No.  You should have said whatever you wanted to drink."  Justin
holds out a bottle of water and a bottle of white grape peach
juice.  "Pick.  We're low on juices right now, sorry."

Lance takes the water and grins.  "Well, I suppose as a person from
the Northwest, I should have said coffee, but everybody knows that
no one outside of the Northwest can make coffee."

Justin rolls his eyes and grabs a wine cooler for himself.  "Yeah,
yeah.  Smart ass."

"Besides, alcohol doesn't really have much impact on thirst."

"I know that's *true*, but I still get less thirsty with wine
coolers."  Justin shrugs.  "I'm odd."

"Yeah, well, water always makes me more thirsty, but I know it's
good for me.  Orange juice is what I crave most when I'm really
thirsty."

"We can pick some up tomorrow," Justin suggests, hopping up onto a
counter.

Lance smiles at him.  "You this nice to everyone?"

"No.  I'm mean."

"So it's just me?  Or him, I mean."

"No.  It's just the people who are nice to me."

"Huh.  Except everyone wants to be nice to you -- to us."

"Sort of.  They want to be nice to our money."

"Oh.  I keep forgetting about that part."

Justin laughs happily.  "Good."

Lance regards Justin levelly as he finishes off the last of his
water bottle.  "You know, I think you're probably the best friend
I've had since I was in junior high."  He searches for the garbage
and finds a labelled series of recycling bins and throws the bottle
into the right one.  "I'm starting to worry less about getting
stuck here and more about what happens when I go back and
everything's so much less than this."  He gives Justin a crooked
half-smile.

Justin smiles back, and it's sad along with happy.  "You won't be
going back.  You're here to stay."

Lance looks wistful for a moment.  "It's kind of like dying, sort
of.  You don't know when it's going to happen, so you can't plan
for it, but you can't have very much of a life if you spend the
whole time waiting for death."

Justin slides down, leaving his drink behind.  He hugs Lance close. 
"Shh, now.  You're here and I won't let anything happen to you. 
And you're not going back."

Lance leans against Justin.  One thing that the touchiness is doing
is reminding him how lonely he's been the last few years, without
anyone touching him at all.  "It's probably just as well that I
don't know.  Then I can't settle in and become the insufferable
bastard I obviously was here."

"He wasn't.  Isn't.  He's just -- careful.  It's his mask, to keep
himself safe."

Lance gives him a twisted smile.  "Doesn't work.  Masks.  Or it
does, but too well.  Like you're the mask if you wear it long
enough.  Anything you do for long enough becomes your life.  Like
it or not.  And what good is safety?  I don't believe in safety." 
He looks around the huge, cool house.  "Or maybe you have it.  I
don't know.  I thought I did and didn't."

Justin shrugs.  "I don't know.  I think it's too late for
philosophical debates."

"Okay."

"Not that I'll be any smarter in the morning, but you may have
forgotten by then."  He grins.

"I didn't -- I wasn't trying to say how smart I was.  And I'm not
sure it's something you can just think about and understand.  It's
experience talking for me."

"I know.  But I'm not much good at smart stuff, I think.  Just a
warning."  Justin shrugs.  "I dunno."

Lance gives him a wary look.  "I can't help being me.  I'm not
brilliant, but I'm who I am."

"Oh, no!"  Justin waves his hands.  "Not, like, a *bad* warning. 
But if you wanna talk this out and have meaningful feedback, we'll
invite Chris over.  He's very smart.  I'm not so much.  Plus, you
are brilliant."

"I don't know about Chris.  He seems like the kind of person who
already knows the important answers."

"Yeah, but he'll help you know them, too."

Lance nods.  "Yeah, I can see that."  He got Chris' list via email
-- the password was already helpfully entered into Eudora -- and
promptly memorized it.  "I like him.  Not like you, but he's... got
it together, I suppose you'd say."

"Yeah.  He does."

"So, um, should I give you your bed back?"

"No, you shouldn't.  But we should go to bed."  Justin takes
Lance's hand and leads the way through the dark house.  It's an
excuse, but he's always liked Lance's hands.

Lance looks sideways at Justin when he takes his hand, but when
Justin seems perfectly comfortable with the gesture, Lance relaxes.

In the bedroom, Justin frowns at the sheets.  "I think I was going
to change those today.  What d'you think?"

Lance shrugs, then remembers this morning.  "Oh, um.  Yeah.  Change
is good."

Justin catches what Lance is thinking of, but doesn't say anything. 
Actually, it's just been a while since the sheets were changed. 
"What's your favorite color?" he asks.

"In sheets?  White's good."

"Cotton, flannel or fake satin?" Justin asks, opening a cabinet in
the bathroom.

Lance follows him.  "Jersey cotton, plain cotton, or linen cotton?" 
Chronic insomniacs have keen interests in this kind of thing.

"Jersey."

Lance nods.  "I like jersey.  The only kind I don't like are the
plain cotton ones, really."

Justin laughs and pulls the sheets out.  "You want new blankets,
too?"

"Isn't it a little hot for blankets?"

"Well, there's one on the bed."

"I haven't been using it.  Except, y'know, to curl into."

Justin nods.  "Okay."  It's quick work to strip and remake the bed. 
By the time they're done, Justin's yawning.

Lance reaches out hesitantly and touches Justin's shoulder. 
Justin's been touching him, but he's been unsure about touching
back.  "You should take this bed.  Really."

Justin leans into Lance's side.  "Nah.  It was Lance's bed before
it was mine.  Besides, I know where to find spare clothes, and this
way you know everything you find is up for grabs.  I don't want you
to have to ask all the time.  I feel bad, like I'm making you beg."

Lance hugs him one-armed.  It seems like the right thing to do. 
"It's all your stuff.  I'm like a really strange uninvited guest."

"If anything, you're like a perfectly appropriate guest with an
open invitation," Justin replies, head falling to Lance's shoulder.

Justin's so tired, and Lance feels for him all over again, what it
must be like to have someone important to you just vanish.  "C'mon. 
Just lie down.  I'll try not to molest you in your sleep again."

"I molested you," Justin protests.  "I was awake and you weren't."

Lance is getting to know Justin and he doesn't believe that.  "You
were awake and you decided to play with me while I was sleeping?"

"Well, no.  I was awake, but I didn't remember.  That you're not
the Lance I'm allowed to touch like that, I mean."

"So really, you just didn't stop me.  It's my fault."  Lance
shrugs.  Justin's still leaning against him.  "I just thought that
you'd sleep better this way."

Justin makes himself show a tiny bit of willpower and offers,
"Really, it's okay.  I don't want to crowd you or make you feel
uncomfortable."

Lance nods.  "Okay.  I guess."

Justin hates being nice sometimes.

Lance shifts his hand so it's on the small of Justin's back and
pushes him lightly toward the bed.  "So it's settled then," he
says, as he realizes the best way around Justin's stubbornness --
just declare victory.  "You'll sleep here."

Justin smiles as he looks over his shoulder at Lance.  "You're
really sweet."  He grabs his pajama pants from their place under
his side of the bed and goes into the bathroom to change and brush
his teeth.

Lance gets his own clothes and, since Justin's not there, changes.

Justin calls, "You decent?"

"Yeah."

"Damn," Justin stage whispers as he climbs into bed.

Lance grins and heads to the bathroom.

Justin finds himself falling asleep as he listens to Lance's
sounds.  It's the same series he's used to; the washing of the
face, brushing of the teeth, brushing of the hair, using the
toilet, washing hands.  It's the same.  Because this is Lance.

When Lance comes back out, Justin is already asleep.  He smiles and
quietly climbs into bed next to him.  This'll be good for Justin,
if Lance can keep his subconscious under control.

****

Lance wakes up with Justin curled next to him. Not on top of him or
anything like that. Just on his side, body touching all the way
down. Like Lance is some sort of comfort to him. Or a giant teddy
bear.

It isn't icky. It's a lot of things, but it doesn't feel icky or
wrong being like that there with Justin. And okay, so this isn't
like yesterday. This is comparatively normal, but maybe.

Maybe he's been thinking about stuff.

He wishes he had someone to talk to about this, but he doesn't, not
on this world or any other. Except Justin, but he knows it'd be
cruel to tell him. Justin... Justin's a decent kind of guy. He'd
listen to Lance and help him work things out, but, in Lance's mind,
it'd be unforgivable to tell Justin that, despite his straightness,
he's maybe starting to think too much about just taking Justin up
on the implied offer that hangs in the air.

Because Lance is sure that Justin wants him as a lover.

He just doesn't know what to do about it.

Lance is mostly relaxed. But he's got that little line between his
eyebrows. Justin opens his eyes fully. "Mornin'."

"Good morning."

"Joey's coming over today. He and Lance talk about stuff a lot, so
he might wanna talk to you." Of course, Joey doesn't *know* he's
coming over yet. But he will.

"My best friend, right?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy."

Maybe he can talk to Joey. It can't be any worse than just sitting
here and thinking without knowing what to do. "Okay."

Justin smiles. "Did you sleep good?"

Lance hasn't moved away from Justin. He's actually done the
opposite, turning on his side to face him. "Yeah. I didn't... I..."
he starts to explain that he hadn't meant to go to bed *with*
Justin last night, just get him into this bed, and realizes it
sounds all wrong, even in his head. "I did."

Justin grins. "Good." He wrinkles up his nose as he stretches his
legs out. "Mmm. You're good to sleep with."

Lance decides he should probably start getting comfortable with
hearing that kind of thing. Maybe. "So're you."

Justin ducks his head. "Liar. I kick."

"If you did, I didn't notice," Lance says honestly.

Justin laughs happily. "I'm glad."

"It'd be bad if you weren't," Lance says. Justin's smile is soft...
tender even, when he's looking at Lance.

Justin stares for a moment too long. "Um. Breakfast?"

"Sure," Lance agrees. "I'm not... you don't have to worry that I'm
weirded out by you or you being here. I like y--it."

"I like you, too. What d'you want? I've sort of been forcing foods
on you. I should let you choose."

"Something bad for you?" Lance suggests hopefully.

Justin snickers. "Um. Eggs, bacon, french toast, waffles, pancakes,
pastries... take your pick."

"Bacon and waffles," Lance says promptly.

"Maple or butter pecan syrup?"

Lance's eyes get wide. "Butter pecan? Yes, please!"

Justin kisses Lance on the cheek and rolls out of bed. He's out of
the room before he comprehends what he's done. And then he just
shrugs and goes to make breakfast.

Lance doesn't touch his cheek, but only because touching it might
wipe out the memory of how Justin's lips had felt on his skin. Warm
and soft, and casual. Not disgusting. Not wrong. Not sexual either,
but that kind of friendly was reserved for people who're more than
friends.

Lance has a lot to think about when he goes to shower.

"Lance! Breakfast!" Justin yells up the stairs. He's spent the last
half hour talking to Joey and making breakfast. It's the breakfast
that did it. Joey's a sucker for food.

Lance comes downstairs expecting Justin, but he gets Joey as well.
"Hi," he says. He swallows the impulse to say, 'Remember me?',
because of course, this isn't the second time Joey's met him.

"Remember Lance?" Justin asks, setting the warmed syrup on the
table with everything else.

"Yep. Bass from the Northwest. Pass the butter."

Justin does, even as he tugs out a chair for Lance. "Have a seat."

Lance smiles gratefully at Justin and sits down. "Oh! You got
orange juice. Thank you."

"Justin makes the best waffles. But it's your mom's recipe, so
don't let him tell you otherwise," Joey says between mouthfuls. He
grins at the shy Lance. It's kinda cool.

"He still made them just because I asked him to," Lance says
stoutly, not looking up from his plate.

Joey makes a whip cracking sound. Justin kicks him.

Lance looks between the two of them.

Justin smiles at Lance. "Joey's an ass," he says amicably.

Joey grins back. "I have a fine ass, thank you very much."

Lance frowns. He doesn't like it that Joey's being mean to Justin,
but it sounds like a friendly kind of rivalry and something he
shouldn't get upset by. Still, it bothers him.

Justin hooks his ankle around the leg of Lance's chair. Their feet
brush occasionally. It's a reassurance thing. "Anyway. I need to
run over to C's place and get some stuff. I'll be gone for about an
hour. You two think you can play nice for that long?"

Lance feels oddly comforted when Justin scoots himself just a
little closer. "Yeah. Not a problem."

"Good deal."

Joey and Justin fight over who gets to do the dishes. Neither of
them will let him help, so Lance just sits there and watches,
getting more comfortable with the both of them.

When Justin says goodbye, Lance touches him on the arm, then
blushes.

Justin puts his hand over Lance's and kisses him on the cheek
again. "I'll be home soon."

Lance smiles, biting the inside of his cheek. "Okay. I'm... I'll be
looking forward to it."

Justin smiles again and leaves.

Joey clears his throat from the doorway. "Hey, man. You wanna sit
in the sun?" he asks, hiking a thumb at the back deck.

"Sure," Lance says, following him out.

Joey takes a seat. "Beer?" he asks, opening the mini-fridge in the
bar.

Lance nods and takes one from him.

Joey lays back and spends fifteen minutes chatting through a small
problem with Bri. It's designed to get Lance comfortable enough to
talk, as Justin says he needs to. So, when they've found a solution
to Bri's habit of throwing herself down stairs, Joey asks,
"Anything on your mind?"

Lance turns his head to look at him. After a few seconds, his lips
quirk into a wry smile. "Justin told you there was something I
wanted to talk about?" he guesses. "I'm not used to people knowing
me so well that they can tell what I'm thinking."

"He didn't mean anything by it. We just try to be there for each
other, even if that means getting out of the way."

Lance shakes his head. "That isn't what I meant. Just that... I was
thinking this morning that I needed someone to talk to, and now
Justin finds me someone without me ever saying a word about it."

"He's good like that."

Lance nods. "I'm beginning to see that. That's the problem,
really."

"What d'you mean?"

Lance gives Joey a sad smile. "I'm not his Lance. And I'm not gay."

Joey raises an eyebrow. "He knows you're not his Lance. And our
Lance isn't gay, either. He's occasionally bi."

"Well, I've never been occasionally bi."

"I understand that. Justin was totally straight before he and Lance
got together." Joey squints up at the clouds. "It's not an easy
thing to redefine about yourself. To yourself, I mean. I think
maybe it's easier to say it to other people than to admit it to
yourself sometimes."

"Yeah, well. That's the easy part."

"Oh? What's the hard part, then?"

Lance's lips twist. "He's the only guy I've ever been attracted to.
It's impossible not to be, when he looks at me like I'm the best
thing since the invention of computers. But how am I supposed to
say, 'Hey, maybe I'll change my mind, maybe not, but let's try out
this sex thing and see?' when I *know* it's going to mean a lot
more to him. He's been incredibly nice to me. I don't want to do
anything that'd be bad. Partly, y'know, because he's the only one
I really know here and I don't know what to do without him. But
partly because I think maybe I do care." He stares down at his
hands. He can't bear to look at Joey.

Joey considers that for a long moment. "Okay. First, Justin isn't
treating you like the same person who was here last week. I think
he's more aware of the differences than any of us realize. Second,
Lance and Justin had supposedly casual sex for months before they
admitted it was more. I don't think he'd be irreparably hurt if you
tried the sex thing and decided it wasn't going to work between
you. Sad, but if you stayed his friend, he'd be okay. Third, he's
nice to you because he cares about you. You're easy to care about.
And fourth-- I can't help you with how you feel about him. But he's
grown into a good man. He'll never hurt you and he'll help you
explore, if that's what you need."

"He doesn't think I'll go back."

"He's usually good at predicting these things."

"His theory is that if I want to be here, then I won't have to go
back. I can't help thinking that, y'know, I'll wake up back in my
old apartment, and y'all will be here, and your Lance will have
learned a marvelous lesson about appreciating what he has and, me.
I'll just be a loose end."

"God doesn't let that shit happen.  Besides. Maybe everything that
you remember was a whacked out dream Lance had. Maybe this is what
was always real."

"That's even less convincing. Sorry."

"Exactly. It's not something we can worry about. It's just now we
have to accept. And, honestly, I don't think... I don't think you'd
break Justin's heart if you tried to be with him and it didn't work
out. Unless you just left. He's pretty strong, and he's willing to
take risks."

"I might not have a choice. About the leaving thing."

"You didn't really have a choice about coming, either."

"Nope. All the choices here suck. Except maybe getting to be...
happy. With Justin first. Only I think that'd just make things
worse afterward. If I went back."

"Then believe Justin. You're not going back. Besides, every
relationship is a risk. You just have to decide if Justin's worth
taking that risk." Joey looks over at Lance. "He seems to have
already decided you are."

"Yeah?" Lance asks, pathetically eager for confirmation, even
though Justin's been very obvious.

"Yeah."

"How?" Lance asks.

"He sleeps with you. He touches you. The way he looks at you. He
cooks for you. He won't cook if it's just him. He learned to really
cook because Lance was having problems with eating. He wouldn't eat
because he was afraid everything was bad for him. Justin learned to
make healthy things."

"Oh. I thought he was maybe just being nice. He *said* he wasn't
nice like that to most people, but I wasn't sure what to believe."

Joey nods. "I understand."

Lance nods. "Okay. I'm definitely gonna talk to him then. I don't
know how it'll turn out, but it's important. I think."

"I think you're right."

"So, um. What's up with the twin?"

"Hmm?"

"Justin said you had a twin. Who stayed and didn't go back. But
I've only met one of you."

"Oh! Yeah. Tony -- he goes by Tony -- he's in South America right
now. Basically just carousing. He's sort of the college version of
me, if I'd gone to college."

"Did he... did he get here like I did?" Lance is clutching at any
explanation that means he might get to stay, and he knows it.

"Pretty much. I went to bed drunk wishing I knew what it would have
been like if I'd kept on with school, and woke up with him on my
kitchen floor."

"And he never wanted to go back to his own world?"

"No, I guess not. He's still here. I think school isn't really in
my temperament."

Lance feels better. "Okay." He smiles at Joey. "That helps. A lot.
I can see how you and your Lance got to be such good friends.
I'm... I might not be like that. If I could talk to Justin about
this, I would. And I will now.  I hope you don't mind."

"Not a prob. That's what a relationship is. But sometimes you need
outside advice, or two viewpoints, or you just wanna babble about
stuff Justin already knows. That's what I'm here for."

"Thanks."

"Ditto."

Justin cautiously sticks his head out the door. "Am I home, or
should I go hide upstairs?"

Lance stands up and smiles at him. "You're home!"

"I am!"

Lance doesn't hesitate, but instead moves forward and embraces
Justin. "I'm really glad you're back."

Justin holds Lance close. "I'll always come back," he promises,
thinking Lance is still nervous in this new life.

Lance turns his head and looks at Joey. "Don't take this the wrong
way, but please go home."

Joey laughs and slaps him on the shoulder as he leaves.

Justin hugs Lance. "What's wrong?"

"Wait til Joey leaves?" Lance asks quietly. Joey already knows
what's going to happen next of course, but it's embarrassing.

The door closes and Justin hears Joey's car pull out of the
driveway. "Baby? Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. I had a good talk with Joey. About things. I
just wanted to be alone with you so we could talk too."

"Okay."

Lance takes Justin's hand. "Um. Maybe you know already. But I like
you. A lot."

"I like you, too, Lance." Justin squeezes the hand in his. "You're,
like, completely likeable."

"I mean, more than I've ever liked another guy."

Justin smiles shyly. "Oh. I'm glad."

This is not getting his point across. "As in, I'd like to try
falling in love with you."

"I'd like that. Very much," Justin says. He laughs, then, sniffling
against the back of his hand. He's just spent an hour with JC,
letting himself miss his Lance. And now he's being offered the
world again. "Sorry. Yeah, I'd really, really like that."

Lance wraps his free arm around Justin, not letting go of his hand.
"You okay? I didn't want to upset you. That's why I talked to
Joey."

"No, I'm not upset. I'm just so... It's like being given the
world."

Lance nods. "When you talk to me. When you look at me... it's like
I'm your world."

"You are. Or -- he was, you will be. If you want to."

"I want to try."

"I'm up for that. Did you wanna maybe sit down and talk about what
trying means?"

Lance shrugs. He'd never expected to get this far. "Sure."

Justin sits and pulls Lance down into the same chair with him.
"Okay. You tell me what you mean."

Justin's nestled comfortably next to him. ""I'm not completely
sure," Lance admits. "I know you... if you don't already, you're
pretty close to loving me. And that you're attracted to me." He
shrugs. "I'm not sure what to say."

"Okay. Do you want to date? Or did you want to date *and*...
whatever? Are you interested in a more physical relationship along
with this? And if so, did you wanna build up to it?" Justin asks.
"I'm good with all the options, Lance. I just want to know what you
want so I don't screw up."

"I want you to sleep with me and neither of us have to be
embarrassed if things happen. I want... yeah. Boyfriends, I guess."

Justin smiles and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

"Please?"

So Justin does.

When they finish, Justin is sprawled across Lance's lap and Lance
looks a little dazed. "That was good. Really good."

"Let's do it again," Justin suggests. "You're a better kisser," he
adds.

Lance's face burns. "More desperate, maybe," he mumbles.

Justin kisses Lance again. He can barely think when they pull
apart. "Better," he replies.

"You are, yeah," Lance says. He reaches out to touch Justin's face
with a reverent hand. "You already treat me like I'm the center of
your world. I want you to be mine."

Justin smiles. "This could be the beginning of a beautiful
friendship."

"It could, yeah," Lance agrees. "But I want it to be more than
that, 'cause ever since I met you, I've known I never want to go
back."

"My momma always told me to marry my best friend. Lance was. You
will be."

"Marry?"

"Same theory.  Date."

Lance really doesn't hyperventilate at the thought of permanence. 
Most of the time.  "Okay," he says.  "But you're going to have to
teach me how to sing."

"Um.  I didn't mean to freak you out.  I didn't think before I
spoke.  And I have no problem with teaching you to sing."

"Just thinking about going to bed with you is huge to me," Lance
says.  "I mean, other than the sleeping part."  It's a lot harder
to say 'sex' to Justin than it was to say it to Joey.  But then,
he's got Justin pressed up against him in ways that Joey wasn't and
isn't going to be.

"I understand."

"So, um... wanna go to bed with me?"

"Yes.  I do."

Lance grins at him.  "So let's go already."

Justin stands up, then pulls Lance up.  "Let's."

It's a reverse of everything.  Wanting a man more than any woman
Lance has ever known.  Even more an inversion of his reality than
going from rags to riches.  But he's finding that he likes the
differences, and that upside down and backward is maybe the way his
life should have been all along.