Pairing: Howie and Lance
Words: glisten; piercing; prowl; abject


Chris was nervous.  Really, really nervous.  Howie was supposed to
turn up on their tour tomorrow.  For sex.  With him.

And, really, aside from how Chris had always wanted that, there was
no downside.

The guys, of course, were no help.

"You're a fucking freak, man," Joey said.  "You want to get laid,
you like guys, and he's coming out here just to fuck you.  I wish
*I* could get service like that.  He knows how much of a freak you
are, and he still wants to do it with you.  Feel lucky."

Justin was even less help, laughing whenever Chris got anywhere
near him.  Of course, Chris'd told him all about his crush on
Howie.  Justin thought this was just what he deserved, sadistic
bastard.

JC kept saying stuff about band unity, which was perhaps the most
helpful -- and least threatening -- thing anyone had said, and so
Chris almost liked him.  Okay, true, it had taken fifteen minutes
of Chris poking him to get JC to come up with that.  But it was
more sympathetic than anyone else had been and if it hadn't taken
so much persistence to get JC to be coherent and in this reality,
Chris'd spend more time with him.  As it was, Chris wasn't one to
put in that much concerted effort, not when there were better
things to be doing.

Like fleeing from Lance.

Lance was the least help.  He'd suddenly gone on the prowl ever
since the prank phone call to Howie that'd started this whole mess,
stalking Chris like Chris was some sort of small, fuzzy creature
Lance wanted to snatch up and have for lunch.  Chris didn't know
half the time whether to run for his life or cower in abject
terror.  Because, you know, if he cowered, he'd be holding still,
and Lance might catch him and...

Right.  Running.  Running was a good thing.

Why was he running away again?

Oh, yeah, because he was afraid of what might happen when Lance
caught him.

Chris had been attracted to Howie for a long time.  He hadn't been
attracted to Lance for nearly as long, but it didn't mean he
wasn't.  Attracted, that was.

For lack of anyone better to hide with -- er, spend time with,
Chris plopped himself down in Justin's lap and declared loudly, "I
have two hot guys lusting after my sexy bod.  Eat your heart out,
Divalake."

Justin shoved him off his lap onto the floor.  "And you don't want
either of them.  Man, you're fucked in the head.  Or straight."  He
kicked Chris.  "Fucker.  How dare you be straight and not tell me?"

"I don't have to tell you everything.  I didn't tell you when JC
and I stole one of Britney's lace thongs and.." Justin kicked him
again.  "What?"

"Do *not* tell me about that.  I don't want to know about it. 
Besides, you're lying.  JC would never do anything like that."

"Sure he would.  He wanted to try them on.  Said his hips were
skinnier than hers.  Sex-ay Cha-sez.  I don't think orange is
really his color, though."

Justin kicked him again, not particularly hard.  Chris grabbed him
around the calf and started chewing on his ankle.  "Now I know
where JC gets that from."

"What, his love of women's underthings?  You all learned everything
you know from me," Chris announced.  "So, when are you going to
start dating guys, anyway?  Joey's looking kinda lonely for a
little of the Timberlake lovin'."

Kicking was useless with Chris attached to his leg, so Justin
jumped on him and they wrestled instead.  Justin inevitably came
out on top, sitting on Chris' back and pinning him face down into
the carpet.  "Admit it," Justin said.  "You got it bad for Howie
*and* Lance, and you don't know how to choose."

"Do not!"

"Do so."

"Do not.  I don't want either of them."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am--"

"Am I interrupting an intellectual discussion?" Lance asked drily
as he entered the Quiet Room.

"Lance!" Justin said brightly, climbing off Chris.  "Not at all. 
In fact, I have big important things to do elsewhere.  Really big
important things to do, like getting JC out of his panties."

Chris yelled after him as Justin high-tailed it out the door, "It
was a thong, not panties!"

Lance sat down on the couch.  Chris rolled over and looked at him
expectantly.  "So, Chris..."

Chris bolted.

Lance sighed and tapped his fingers on his thigh.

****

Howie showed up the next day, bodyguards in tow and a stylish
backpack slung over one shoulder.  He was greeted with much fist
bumping and enthusiasm by Joey, JC and Justin.

"Good to see you, man."

"Howie.  You look good."

"Hey, how's it going?"

Howie returned the attention equanimably, then cleared his throat. 
"So.  Where's Chris?"

"Hiding."

"Hiding from you."

"Hiding from you and Lance."

Howie's eyebrows rose.  "Should I not have come?  I thought I
understood..."

Justin relieved Howie of his bag, and Joey slung an arm around his
shoulders, leading him toward the two-man bus.  "You understood
right.  Chris is just a big freak."

"Little freak," Justin corrected.

"Major freak," Joey amended.  He flung his arm out at the two-man
bus.  Justin tossed Howie's bag onboard.  "Here.  Home, sweet home
'til we hit Chicago.  All yours and Chris'.  Have a good time."

Howie went up the steps.  They waved at him until he disappeared.

"Not gonna tell him about Lance?" Justin asked Joey.

"Nope."

"Coward."

"You know it."

****

Lance greeted Howie as he came aboard the bus.  "Howie."

"Lance.  Not that I'm complaining, but I was kind of expecting to
see Chris.  I'd been led to believe I was going to meeting him
here."

"There was a... slight problem with that."

"What kind of problem?"

"I found him in the Toy Room making a sign, 'Boston Or Bust'."

"Huh?"

"Would it make more sense if I said he saw me, let out an
ear-piercing scream, grabbed the sign, ran for it, and we -- me,
Lonnie and Dre -- caught up with him halfway to the rear entrance
of the stadium babbling something about the lure of the open road?"

"He was going to hitchhike to Boston?" Howie asked,
half-disbelieving, half-amused.

"I don't think he'd've made it out of the stadium personally, but
you never know."

"So...?"

"So?"

"So what's going on now?"

Lance quirked his eyebrows.  "Chris is... a little tied up at the
moment.  I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you though."

"Tied up?"  Howie's eyes glinted.

"Yep," Lance agreed.  "Want to disturb him?"

"Well, you know," Howie said, a grin beginning to form, "if he's
doing something important, I wouldn't want to interrupt him."

There was a muffled pounding coming from the back of the bus.  The
driver boarded, nodded to Lance and closed the door.  A few minutes
later, they were heading down the road.

"I don't know if I'd call it important..." Lance began.

"Bass, you fucker!" Chris yelled from the back of the bus.  "I'm
going to get you for this!"

"Pity," Lance said, eyes dancing with evil amusement.  "Sounds like
he chewed through the gag."

"The gag?"

"Come see."   Lance motioned Howie down the corridor and led him
into the back of the bus, where Chris laid on the large,
leopard-patterned couch.  A bandanna was tied loosely around his
neck -- it had apparently been in his mouth until it had been
somehow dislodged and spit out.  He was lying spread-eagled, face
up, wrists and ankles secured with black cuffs that fastened with
velcro and were snapped into black nylon cords that disappeared out
of sight under the divan.

"Just so you know, Bass..." Chris began, then saw who was with
Lance.  "Howie!" he squeaked.

Lance sat down next to him, by Chris' hip.  He rested a proprietary
hand on Chris' stomach.  "Just so I know what, Chris?" he asked. 
Chris was fully-clothed; Lance's hand brushed at the hem of Chris'
shirt, pushing it up, running under it and over the skin.

Chris' breath hissed out.  He regarded Lance with wide, startled
eyes.

"Howie?" Lance asked.

"Yes?"  Howie was standing in the doorway, not coming any closer.

"The way I understand it," Lance said conversationally, stroking
Chris' stomach, "Chris has always wanted you.  For reasons
surpassing understanding, he isn't willing to admit it."  Chris
made a small, protesting noise, and Lance looked down at him. 
"Also for reasons surpassing understanding, he seems to want me."

"I don't think that surpasses understanding," Howie murmured.

Lance flashed him a smile.  "Yeah, well, he kept annoying me until
I started chasing him, and then he ran for the hills.  It seemed to
me that a more direct approach to his fear of intimacy was
required, so..." he inclined his head at the bound Chris.

"I applaud your creativity, but are you suggesting what I think
you're suggesting?"

Lance nodded.  "He asked you to come out here.  Even on a bet, he
still asked.  And if that hadn't happened, I don't think I would
have realized what was going on.  I'm not sure what Chris really
wants, but I'm not going to give him up.  I'm willing to share,
though."

"Hey, don't I get a say in this?" Chris asked indignantly.

"No," Lance said firmly.  "If you wanted a say in it, you had
plenty of time to say something before this.  You just ran away
from it."

"But..."

Lance put his finger over Chris' mouth.  Chris bit it.  Lance
pulled it back and examined it for the glisten of blood.  Chris
hadn't broken the skin, and Lance wiped his hand off on Chris'
shirt.  "You aren't going to say anything sensible anyway, and you
know it.  I'll tell you what.  You can have another chance
afterward."

"Afterward?  After what?" Chris asked.

Lance rolled his eyes.  "After we break out the cards and play Go
Fish.  What do you think?"

Howie snorted.

Chris wriggled as much as he could in his current position.  "Well,
I dunno, but seeing as how I'm tied up here and there's two hot
guys staring at me, I was kinda thinking there'd be some sex
involved eventually.  I mean, if you didn't have anything better to
do, like play Go Fish.  Or do each other's nails or something."

Lance looked at Chris then looked at Howie.  "I'm thinking we gag
him again and then spank him.  How about you?"

"Sounds good to me.  But maybe leave the gag out."

"I dunno.  He talks a lot," Lance said, considering Chris.

"Hey!  I do not talk a lot.  And who said you could spank me
anyway?  I mean, what if I'm not into all this kinky stuff?  Huh? 
I'm claiming sexual harassment and suing my lawyers.  Er.  Suing
your lawyers."  Chris groaned.  "Bass, you bastard.  I can't think
when you're doing that."

Lance removed his hand from the waistband of Chris' pants and
lifted his eyebrows at Howie.  "See what I mean?"

"Good point.  Maybe you should put the gag back."

"Just so you know," Chris said, before Lance could do just that, "I
hate you both."

Lance leaned forward and kissed him, even as he reached for the
bandanna.  "No," he said, pulling the makeshift gag back up and
over Chris' mouth.  Chris looked a little forlorn that Lance had
moved his lips away.  "You don't."

****

After it was all over, and Chris had long since been untied and
they were all lying together on the couch, jumbled together naked
with the couch's leopard-print cover thrown over them, Chris might,
just maybe, have tried to sneak out.  Or thought about it anyway.

But there was a heavy leg thrown over his on one side and a warm
body snugged up to him on the other, and really, he didn't know
where he was running to anyway.  He sighed and settled back down. 
Maybe he didn't need to run.  Maybe this was real.

Lance opened one eye.  "Go back to sleep," he said in a sleepy
rumble.  "I'm too tired to chase you down right now."

"But you would, right?" Chris whispered back, not sure why he was
asking.

"Duh," Lance said.  "You're not getting away from me now,
Kirkpatrick."  And closed his eyes again, like that settled things.

Maybe it did.  Lance always had been a smug bastard.  Chris closed
his eyes, and Lance sighed.  "You're an idiot, Chris, but I love
you anyway.  Go to sleep."

"I'll get you back for this, Bass.  Just you wait."

"I know you will.  I'm looking forward to it."

"Kinky fucker."

That settled, Chris wrapped his hand around Lance's arm.  Just in
case.  And went to sleep.