Pairing: Lance and JC
Words: bondage; beatboxing; commission; flammable


Lance shrugs, picking at the edge of his notebook.  "Dunno.  It
said flammable, so I set it on fire."  Of course, another student
had been *wearing* the fabric.  "But he wasn't supposed to be
wearing it.  He broke the rules."  This time he's seeing some...
student.  Not even a real shrink.  It's good to know exactly how
far you can push before they give up on you and use you to break in
the rookies.

JC nods enthusiastically, taking notes.  "So you were striking a
blow for fashion freedom then."

"No."  Oh, good.  A fruitcake.

"Oh.  So it was about disobedience to school principles?"

"No."

JC makes another note, then sets the notebook down.  He doesn't
bother hiding it from Lance's view.  "So you just fucking felt like
it?"  His tone hasn't changed one iota.

"Yeah."

"And fire because it's easy and bright and noisy and dangerous and,
unlike hitting the guy, doesn't get you beaten up?"

"Fire is uncontrollable."  Lance doesn't touch the dark bruise on
his cheekbone.

"Uh huh.  Do much cutting?"

Lance stares at nothing.  He's good at it.

"Ways to control the uncontrollable.  Or control the only thing you
can control.  Or say fuck you to everyone who's in control. 
Question is, who?"

"Okay."  Lance blinks slowly.  It's not like he hasn't read
textbooks on the subject.  He's a fucking honor student.  He's
gonna graduate with two years of college credit.  That's not the
point.  Now, if he could just figure out what is.

"Do you know who?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Who you hate so much.  Who's controlling your life and making you
sick with misery.  Is it a person, place or thing?  Or all of the
above?"

"Oh, that.  Probably all my own fault, right?  Or maybe displaced
love for my mother.  She didn't breast feed me, you know."

JC frowns.  "No.  You're not.  You're hurting for a reason.  And
it's either the situation or it's something that you can't talk
about, can't deal with."

"Sure.  Or I'm pathological."  Lance shrugs.  "Two shrinks ago, I
was a lost cause."

"If you want to be pathological, we can talk about who's cute and
get some snacks.  Find some music, maybe.  You wanna stay like
this, I can do that."  JC smiles to himself, a little sadly.  "I
just thought maybe I could help."

"Why?"

"'Cause, y'know.  Me, too."

"You what?  Need help?"

JC blinks rapidly.  "Uh, no.  Got help.  Not this kind though. 
More random."  He rolls up one sleeve and displays the patchwork of
old scars on his inner forearm.  Slashes and cigarette burns and
scar tissue.  "Sucked the way I went about it.  Fixed stuff, but
the hard way isn't a good way to go."

Lance looks.  He's not repulsed.  He's not fascinated, more
importantly.  He just looks because when someone shows you their
pain, it's polite not to look away as if it's nothing.  "Oh."

"So, yeah.  If you don't care, then that's fine.  Well, not fine. 
But nothing I can do.  I just thought, maybe.  Maybe I was a way to
get you through this.  So."

Lance considers.  "You know, if you keep doing this -- putting
yourself out there -- you're gonna get used and burned and hurt,
right?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay.  Uh.  So.  What do you want me to do?" Lance asks.

"Tell me what's pissing you off so much that you gotta do something
about, but's so big and nasty and unconfrontable that you can't go
after it directly."

"If I knew that, I'd have fixed it myself."

"Not your parents, not your relatives, not your future, not the
school, not the people around you, nothing?"

"Yes, they all tick me off.  But I don't know why.  I don't think
there's any particular thing -- that I'm conscious of -- that does
it."

"Really and seriously, honest to God, there's absolutely nothing
that bugs you except that everything does?"

"God.  Church.  I don't get it.  But I hate going to church.  Even
though I loved it."

JC cocks his head.  "You used to love church and now you don't?"

"Yep.  That's typical, though."

"Why?"

"I don't know."  Lance shrugs and scrunches his face.  "It just is. 
All teens do it."

"God hates teens," JC observes.  "Didn't know that one."

"No, dude.  Teens all hate church."

"Singing and sermons are creepy?"

"No.  Well.  Yes?  I dunno.  Sermons give me the shakes sometimes."

"It's the sex thing, isn't it?"

"What?!"

JC gives Lance a closer look, but continues blithely like Lance's
tone wasn't a huge clue all by itself.  "The one thing you can't
help thinking about is sex.  And what's the one thing that's
universally wrong?  Sex outside of marriage."

"Church does *not* make me think of sex!" Lance insists.  He pulls
his feet up onto the chair.  "That's just sick."

JC gives him a puzzled look.  "Why not?  There's gotta be sermons
about waiting til marriage and chastity and self-control and all
that at least once a month.  Probably more."

"Well, yeah, but they're not, like *sexy*.  Besides, that's not it. 
I don't have a girlfriend or anything."

JC nods.  "Me neither."

Lance doesn't know how they got to that.  "Uh.  Now what?"

"I'm not sure.  I can tell you what I think, but I think you'd
either get so scared you'd run or deny it.  Or I can tell you what
happened to me, but then you might think I knew all along and I
didn't."

Lance's eyes narrow.  "Okay.  Whatever."

"And now you're mad at me anyway."  JC sighs.  "You're gay, right? 
Or you think maybe you are and you don't want to be.  Me, too.  On
the being gay part."

Lance's eyes go huge and his face blanches dead white.  "W-what?"
he whispers.

"You're gay," JC repeats simply.  "You like guys and you think it's
wrong or you know it's wrong, but you still do."

"I do not," Lance protests.  His voice is weak.  He's never had the
thought before, so why does it click in his mind like JC said 1 +
1= 2?

"That's what happened to me," JC says conversationally.  "I figured
it out pretty young.  And maybe I'm naive or something, but I told
my mom.  And she told my dad.  I spent the next three years in
foster homes until the Chasezes adopted me."

"My parents can't get rid of me, the trust is in my name."

"My dad didn't exactly get rid of me.  And I wasn't exactly some
cute kid who got told to leave the house."

Lance cocks his head.  "I'm still sorry."

JC smiles.  "Thank you.  That's really nice of you."

Lance smiles back.  JC's kinda hot.  "You're welcome."

"So, um, I guess I should give you some kind of speech about how
it's okay to be gay and stuff like that, except y'know, a lot of
times around here, it really really isn't.  But it's not evil or
bad or anything.  It's just that people can be mean about it.  But
if it helps at all, I'm here and if nothing else, we could, like,
set cute boys on fire together or something."

Lance snickers.  "Why set them on fire?  Aren't they supposed to
flame already?"

"Cute *straight* boys," JC corrects, grinning.  He holds out his
hand.  "You wanna?"

"Aren't you supposed to be all distant and professional?"

JC cocks his head as he drops his hand.  "Why?"

"Because you're the shrink?"

"No, I'm not."

"Y-you're not?"

"No.  'Cause of my record, I have to do counseling, and after a
while, you get really good at reading upside down notebooks and
listening to interesting conversations, and when I just happened to
overhear that they were gonna recommend a 'special home' for you,
I volunteered to talk to you.  Said I could scare you out of it if
anyone could."

Lance's face goes to stone suddenly.  "Oh.  That's really nice of
you."

"Except I wasn't going to, 'cause that doesn't work, because nobody
would believe it who hadn't been there, and besides, behaving good
'cause you're scared of what someone'll do to you is wrong.  And
anyway, if something like that would've worked, they wouldn't be
talking about it, now would they?"

"Sure, no, you're right."

"Except you're all mad at me again."  JC sighs.

"No, I'm honestly not," Lance says.  It's true.  "Not at all.  I'm
appreciative.  You've helped me and given me something *real* to
think about.  So, yeah.  Thank you."

"Okay," JC nods.  "That's something.  I'm glad I could help you. 
I was just kinda hoping..." he looks wistful.  "That we could be
friends.  'Cause I thought maybe you'd understand."

Lance melts a little.  "I'm not... not upset with you.  It's just
kinda hard to know that they really did give up on me.  And they
were gonna give me away, y'know."

"They were?" JC looks horrified.  "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Well.  If they were talking about putting me somewhere, then
yeah."

"Oh," JC says, relieved now and dismissive of the possibility. 
"That was just the school people.  They couldn't have really done
it, not without your parents' permission.  They were just gonna
*recommend* that your parents do it."

Lance shrugs.  "Um.  Would you -- I didn't know you weren't a
doctor.  That whole confidentiality thing?  Would you, maybe, not
talk about what I said?"

JC shakes his head.  "Of course not.  I wouldn't say anything to
anyone."

"Thanks."

JC holds his notebook out to Lance.  "I won't say anything to
*them* either.  Look."

Lance fidgets.  "So, you wanna go commit acts of petty larceny? 
Um.  You can teach me to look at boys?"  He takes the notebook.

"I'd like that very much," JC says solemnly.

Lance smiles, then looks at the notebook and starts laughing.  It
reads:

To Do:
- Leave bondage toys in counselor's desk drawer.
- Band class: Beatboxing?
- Campaign for posing nude.  Petition federal commission thingy
that sponsored that male porn thing.


JC grins back at him, all crinkly and happy.

"Where d'you go to school?"

"Different state.  Pennsylvania.  Got moved around a lot."

"So... you're here for how long?"

"Til I graduate."  He looks at Lance.  "If you really want, we can
go be delinquents.  My parents -- my real parents, the ones who
know who I am and still chose me -- they aren't gonna give me up or
let anything happen to me.  I'll be here as long as I want to be."

"Cool."

JC extends his hand again.  "Wanna go?"

"Yeah."  Lance takes JC's hand.  The small thrill that shoots
through him -- now he knows it's not fear.

JC pulls Lance to his feet, hugs him, then lets him go.  Plenty of
time for everything still.  He's suddenly looking forward to
tomorrow a whole lot more.

Lance glances around.  "Uh.  Run for it?"

JC smiles impishly.  "Last one there has to bottom," and runs for
it.

Lance stands stunned for a second before giving chase.  "Hey!  Hey,
JC!  What's that mean?"