Leave My Heart

I'd love to be the way your heartache ends, but til it does we can't be more than friends.

The end had been inevitable; Lance had known that from the start.

Chris' heart's desire had never been to find his one true love; it had been JC's only one. JC loved music, his family and friends, and just plain living, but they'd all known that he'd never feel his life was complete until he'd found "The One". And that was how Lance always thought of it, capitalized and in quotes: "The One".

JC's one, JC's only, JC's everything; which two years ago became otherwise known as Chris.

The same Chris who didn't believe that relationships were meant to last forever, the same Chris who wasn't looking for anything even remotely resembling that, the same Chris who had never hid or lied about either of those facts.

Still, knowing that hadn't stopped JC from pursuing him, nor had it stopped Chris from being human enough to not walk away from that love. And it wasn't as if he didn't love JC back, he did; but it was Chris-love, and that was an entirely different thing.

So it was inevitable that the disaster waiting to happen would turn into a train wreck that would land squarely in Lance's lap.

He knew somewhere somehow, he must have done something horribly evil as a child.

Why else would he have to watch the person he'd wanted since he was sixteen years old fall in love with someone else; have to be around them daily knowing the whole time that it was going to end in disaster; and then, then, when the disaster finally happened, find himself smack in the middle of the mess?

Horrible and evil. There was no other explanation for it.

Otherwise Chris wouldn't have called him to say, I sent him to you, man, because I knew you'd take care of him, and JC wouldn't be standing on his front porch looking far worse than anything any cat had ever dragged in, and pretending for all he was worth that he didn't.

A really bad, evil, horrible something.

Lance tucked those thoughts back into the corner of his mind, shoved his love for JC back into the far reaches of his heart, and smiled. "Hey."

JC looked everywhere but at Lance. "I, uh. Chris, he and I-"

Lance took pity on JC, telling him, "Yeah, he called a little while ago." He left out the part where he'd torn into Chris.

"Oh." JC hunched his shoulders, shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, and hung his head until his chin touched his chest. When he spoke next, it was to Lance's porch floor.

"I couldn't - watch - him - pack - and -" JC shook his head, making his curls bop wildly about his face. "Just. No."

"It's okay, C." For a brief second, Lance reached over and touched JC, a soft brush of hand over his shoulder. "It's okay."

There were no tears in JC's eyes when he finally raised his head to look at Lance, which didn't surprise Lance in the least. His heart, JC held it out for the world to see, but he kept his pain - always - tucked securely away.

"Why don't you come in?" Lance offered, stepping out of the way. "Stay."

Lance could see JC's hand curl inside his pockets as he again looked everywhere but at Lance.

"Yeah?"

"Of course, yeah. For however long you need."

Minutes had turned into hours and before Lance had known it he'd been tucking JC into one of his guest rooms and waking up to the smell of coffee drifting through the house. Days passed, and then weeks and Lance no longer found it odd to find JC sitting at his kitchen table, wearing his clothes.

Carlos had finally shown up with a bag, and though Lance had had no clue he'd been coming, he'd taken it from him with barely a blink, and then a shrug for the questions he could see lurking in the other man's eyes. He couldn't offer Carlos something that he didn't have himself.

JC had come, stayed, showed no signs of going home, and aside from that one time standing outside of Lance's door, had mentioned Chris' name not once.

At JC's invitation, Carlos stayed for lunch, and then the two of them retreated to Lance's office to discuss JC's next album.

Lance stared after them until he heard the door click closed. "I must be out of my fucking mind," he mumbled, pushing plates aside so that he could bang his head against the table. "I should send him home. Tell him it's time to face up to things, drive him back to his house, make sure he's okay and then come home. I should," Lance pulled at his hair, "stop talking to myself, find Chris, and kill him. Just - dead. We'd all feel better then. He'd stop calling, JC could go home, start recording his album, and I could stop talking to an empty kitchen." With a solid thunk, Lance's head hit the table again. "Shit."

"I can go," a soft voice said from behind him, and Lance jumped a foot, rapping his knee hard enough on the underside of the table to see stars.

"C! No. I." Lance stood and reached for JC's arm, but the other man evaded him.

"Joey's out of town. I can crash at his place. It's, uhm," JC's shoulders twitched in some semblance of a shrug. "Not a big deal."

"JC, it is a big deal."

When JC continued to stare at the floor, Lance went to him, bending so that JC was forced to meet his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave."

"But you said --"

"I was talking off the top of my head, C, because I thought that I was alone, and I'm worried about you. A lot."

"You said you wanted to kill Chris." JC bit his lip.

"That was frustration talking, JC. Nothing else."

"But you --"

"I don't want to kill Chris, JC, and I want you to stay."

"But --"

"For as long as you need."

"But --"

"JC, really. Stay."

It took a minute, but JC finally looked up at Lance through his eyelashes. Whatever it was he saw as he studied Lance's face seemed to reassure him, because he nodded and then stole Lance's heart all over again by dropping his head onto Lance's shoulder and sighing, "Okay."

They stood like that, Lance's arms at his side, touching only where JC's head rested against his shoulder until Carlos cleared his throat behind them.

"I'm going to head on out."

JC lifted his forehead and let his chin rest in the curve of Lance's neck. "Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Sure, man. Just, you know, call me when you're feeling better. It can wait."

JC nodded and then nestled back into Lance's shoulder, only this time his arms came up and settled around Lance's waist. It was one friend reaching out to another, and Lance knew that, was grateful for it, for JC finally doing it, but it was hard, so hard to lift his arms and circle JC's back knowing he wanted so much more than that. Still, that didn't stop him from reaching up to cup his hand around JC's head and pull him closer when JC whispered softly, "I never thought things would be this way."

"I know, love. I'm sorry."

Lance never noticed that he let the endearment slip, and he would have been appalled if he had. He'd spent so many years shoving his feelings for JC below the surface that it had become second nature to him, but now, as he stood in his kitchen holding JC, he found that he couldn't control them, and all he wanted to do was let go of JC and find a quiet place where he could rebuild his defenses. But how could he do that now when he could feel the wetness of JC's tears against his neck?

They were silent, as JC's tears always were, but that did nothing to lessen the impact of them. If anything, their silence made you feel his hurt that much more.

So they stood, Lance holding his emotions as tightly as he held JC, until with a soft sigh, JC's tears ended as quietly as they'd begun.

"It's going to be okay," JC stated, and that, more even than the tears, made Lance's heart hurt.

A soft squeeze to JC's neck was all Lance could muster, and then, for the sake of his sanity, he had to back away.

"How about if you go and clean yourself up a bit, and then we can talk some more or whatever, if you're not up to that."

"Maybe you could -" JC bit his lip, something that he'd been doing with greater frequency lately, something that Lance wished he'd stop, because the last thing he needed was to watch that and wonder what JC's mouth would feel like between his own teeth.

"Maybe I could what, JC?" Lance asked, a bit more brusquely than he'd intended if the look on JC's face was any indication.

"Uhm, it's just…sleep, I'm not really, 'cause alone, and if you -"

"JC." Before Lance knew what he was doing he had JC's chin in his hand. "What?"

"CouldyoupleasesitwithmewhileItrytosleep?"

Lance nodded once, which was all that he could manage now that thoughts of watching JC sleep were filling his head.

"You go ahead," Lance gestured in the direction of the bathroom, "and I'll go and grab your pillow and -" he faltered, because the thought had just crossed his mind that JC might actually want to nap in his bed and there was no way, he couldn't, Lance wasn't - no.

"Can you grab my fleece, too?" JC asked, on his way out of the room. "Please?"

Lance managed a nod, and then, when JC left the room buried his face in his hands with a groan.

He was never going to survive this; and Chris, when Lance got a hold of him, despite the reassurances he had given JC, Chris was a dead man.

Lance had given the nap situation a great deal of thought as he'd gathered JC's things from the guestroom, and had come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be as horrible as he'd imagined it to be. For one, JC would be at one end of the couch and Lance would make sure he stayed at the other, and then there was the fact that JC would be asleep, so Lance didn't have to worry about JC curling into him for comfort like he had in the kitchen. So, all in all, he figured this nap thing wasn't such a bad deal. He could let his guard down a bit and in the process hopefully get rid of the knot he had stuck between his heart and stomach, and JC would get some much needed rest.

Then JC came back, settled into the couch, his fleece settled over him exactly the way he liked it, looked over to where Lance was sitting and quietly asked, "Could you please lay down with me?"

He wanted to scream No at the top of his lungs, but how could he do that with those softly pleading eyes staring him in the face? He couldn't. The problem was, he also couldn't see himself lying in the space in front of JC that JC clearly wanted him to take. It was too much, more than he should be asked to give, except that JC would have no way of knowing that, because he didn't know how Lance felt about him. And then the matter was taken out of his hands because JC was pulling his blanket up to his chin and saying, "It's okay, you don't have to, I'll be alright," in that same wounded tone he'd used to tell Lance it would all be okay in the kitchen, and Lance was sliding under the fleece that JC was now happily holding aside for him.

The couch was wide as couches went, but JC wasn't about making sure that they each had enough space; no, he wanted a body warm and snug against his and so when he finally settled, it was with his arm tight around Lance's waist and his face sheltered in the curve of Lance's neck.

"Thank you," JC murmured, and Lance closed his eyes tight, knowing this was going to be the longest hour of his life.

He felt JC fall asleep by degrees, his body leaning more heavily into Lance's as he did, a warm weight against Lance's back as his breath slowly evened out in slumber. His arm grew lax and shifted back so that his hand rested against Lance's stomach and Lance tortured himself by wondering what life would be like if the seeming possessiveness of the touch was real. JC took great care of what belonged to him, they'd all seen that over the years, and Lance had closely watched enough of JC's relationships to know that care extended beyond possessions to people.

Where JC loved, care and attention were freely given and Lance longed to be on the receiving end of that. He fell asleep, despite his best intentions to the contrary, with images of JC offering that gift to him in his head, and when he woke, it was to find himself alone, tucked neatly under JC's blanket with a note propped on the table in front of him that simply read Gone to see Chris.

Lance was debating between take-out menus when JC came in through the garage, at close to nine, carrying a large white and red KFC bag. Their eyes met for a brief second before JC looked away with a mumbled, "I thought you might be hungry."

Lance was, though greasy chicken at this time of night wouldn't have been his first choice, but JC was here - here, and not with Chris - and Lance wasn't about to say no to that.

"I'll get the plates and drinks," Lance offered, and that was the last they spoke until they were seated across from each other with full plates.

"So, uhm, Chris says hi," JC ventured after several mouthfuls.

"Hm."

"I ah, woke up, and you were still, ya know, sleeping, and I thought, maybe…that I should…um…talk to him…about stuff."

The food in Lance's stomach hardened into a block of ice; even still somehow he managed to ask, "How'd it go?"

"He wants to buy me out." JC stared at his plate. "Of the house."

It didn't surprise Lance to hear it, Chris had always loved the odd angles of the house JC had bought several years before more than JC ever had. Still, the house was JC's and not Chris' and Lance wasn't entirely sure how JC was going to feel about letting it go.

"I think I'm okay with that," JC told him, almost as if could read Lance's mind. "The house in Orlando I bought because I loved it as soon as I saw it, this one was just 'cause I needed a base here and it was available when I needed it. It's not home," JC sighed. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry."

JC stared at him quietly from across the table, his eyes searching Lance's for what Lance didn't know.

"It was time," JC told him quietly, decisively, before returning to his food.

They passed several minutes eating, each lost in their own thoughts before JC spoke again.

"I'm going to need to find a place."

"You know you're welcome to stay here for as long as you need, JC."

"I don't want--"

"To jump into something that you might regret later."

"To overstay my welcome."

"You couldn't."

JC smiled softly. "Oh yeah, I could."

"Okay, then you wouldn't, and even if you tried, I wouldn't let you. If I didn't want you here, JC, I'd tell you."

JC slid his hand across the table to touch Lance's arm where it lay near his plate. "Promise."

Lance's gaze was drawn to that hand; lying warm and heavy against his skin, it brought to mind how it had felt to lay circled within those arms earlier today. His voice was husky when he answered, "I promise."

JC squeezed once, his hand lingering over it, before he pulled his hand back into his lap. "I'm going to hold you to that, Lance."

Lance nodded in acknowledgement and then rose to bring his plate to the sink.

"I know this good storage place," he told JC when he joined him at the sink and began to rinse off their dishes for Lance to load in the dishwasher. "I still have some stuff there from the Orlando house."

"I'll have to check it out. Chris said he'd call his lawyer and when he knew something he'd let me know. I'll have to get a truck and stuff. Go over there and pack."

Lance looked up from his task. "I'll help you with that if you want, or get Chris out of the way for the day if that's better for you."

"Chris and I are good, Lance. Really," he added, when Lance couldn't quite manage to hide the skeptical look that passed over his face. "This breakup is best for both of us."

According to who? Lance wondered. Chris? Still, he didn't say that, because JC was hurting enough and he wasn't about to add to it. And knowing JC as he did, he knew that he would never hold a grudge against Chris over this; it just wasn't in his nature. Lance wasn't so sure he could be as gracious, not after witnessing JC's quiet heartbreak earlier. He knew he'd have to try, and eventually he was sure it would all be okay; he loved Chris, too, despite how often the urge struck to kill him.

"So uh…" JC's quiet voice broke into Lance's fantasy of stringing Chris up by his toes, "about earlier." JC leaned in and stopped Lance's heart by brushing a kiss over his cheek. "Thank you."

Lance opened his mouth, but his throat was so tight he knew nothing was going to come out so he settled for a nod that he prayed wouldn't look as curt as it'd felt.

"I'm going to go soak in the whirlpool and then try to catch up on some sleep." JC smiled and patted his stomach. "Cast iron," he said, again reading Lance's mind.

"I'll see you in the morning." He touched Lance's shoulder on his way by. "G'night."

Hours later and Lance was still lying in his bed wide-awake. The chicken that he'd eaten earlier was keeping him awake; he was sticking to that even if he was well aware that it was thoughts of sleeping beside JC this afternoon that had him staring at the ceiling at one in the morning. He couldn't forget what it had felt like to have JC pressed up behind him, how sweet it had been to have his warmth surrounding him, to feel the soft whoosh of his breath over the back of his neck. This was not going to help, bringing those feelings to the forefront of his mind over and over again, but Lance couldn't seem to stop it, nor deep down, was he sure he wanted to. It was the closest he was ever going to get to what he truly longed for and he was going to savor those moments, no matter what they cost him.

A movement caught out of the corner of his eye had Lance's heart leaping into his throat before he recognized the shadow hovering at his door. He'd know that silhouette anywhere. As his heart settled back into his chest, Lance called out softly as JC began to turn away. "JC, what's wrong?"

There was a pause and then JC was turning back, framed once again in the door. "I woke up and it - the quiet - and I thought, maybe, if I could just hear you breathing for a minute that I…" JC sighed, and Lance was out of the bed and standing beside him before his mind had fully processed what he was doing.

Touching JC's arm, Lance led with his heart. "Do you want to sleep in here tonight?"

JC bit his lip, hit teeth gleaming white against the dark pink, and it was all that Lance could do not to reach up and gently tug the abused flesh free. JC's nod of acquiescence had Lance taking his arm and leading him to the bed.

"C'mon, crawl on in there," Lance urged when JC just stood, staring at the bed.

"This is so stupid," JC whispered when they were both settled under the blankets. "I'm halfway to twenty-nine and I'm afraid to sleep alone."

"You're not afraid, C, you're --"

"Yes, I am," JC interrupted. "I'm afraid. Of being alone, of wondering if this is it, if I've done something -"

"You haven't done anything," Lance growled. "If Chris can't fucking handle making a commitment, that's his issue, JC, not yours. It's not your fault."

"Lance, no. It's not…it wasn't." JC sat up. "Lance, Chris didn't break up with me. I broke up with him."

Dead silence greeted JC's announcement, and then Lance was reaching over and flipping on the lamp.

"What?!?"

"I thought…I just…you talked to Chris, Lance. I thought he told you?"

"No." No, he hadn't told Lance, and that was one more thing that Chris was going to have to answer to. Though Lance was well aware that there were more than a few things he was going to have to answer for himself.

Why had Chris not said anything, why had he let Lance assume that he had been the one to end things, especially when Lance, spoken and unspoken, had aimed his venom directly at Chris' head over this?

There were a million questions raging through his head, and the man sitting next to him blinking in the sudden light better be damned well ready to answer a few of them.

"I think you'd better start at the beginning, C, because I've obviously missed something."

JC bit his lip again and then sighed, "Chris and I…we weren't…we were never forever, Lance. We knew that going in."

Lance laughed -- a short, bitter sound. "You knew that going in. Well that's just fucking peachy, JC, but maybe you could have stopped for a minute and let the rest of us in on your little secret, because I for one didn't think this was just a fucking game of playing house between you and Chris."

"We weren't playing house. We loved each other, we still do, we just…it's not a forever kind of love. He wasn't the one."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, JC," Lance threw the covers aside and jumped off the bed. "You're such a fucking girl sometimes, I swear. A forever love and "The One". Do you even hear yourself? You either love someone or you don't."

"You know it's not that simple, Lance." JC was beside him before Lance had registered he'd left the bed. "You know."

He couldn't do it; Lance couldn't look in those intense blue eyes, because he knew what he would see. JC believed everything he said, and to Lance all that meant was he was going to have to live through this heartache again and again until JC found his "one" and he couldn't do it.

"Yeah, I know, but I also know that life isn't a fairy tale, C, and sometimes the one never comes, or they do and they love someone else." Lance forced himself to look up. "So, I'm sorry if you standing here telling me that you threw away something that I thought was pretty special, just because it wasn't the right kind of love, pisses me off, but it does, because I think you're pretty fucking lucky to have found someone to love who loved you back, because I never have."

"Yes, you have."

Lance laughed. It was either that or cry, because his whole life, he'd played the game well, and JC had obviously bought into the charade.

"JC, all those people that passed in and out of my life, that wasn't love. And before you bring up Jesse, yes, he was a great guy, and he stuck it out for longer than even I thought he would, and maybe in our own way we loved each other but he wasn't -"

Lance stopped; he'd been about to say "The One" and in doing so, admit to being just as much of a girl as JC was, and he couldn't, because if he did, then JC would know. Somehow, he would know, Lance could feel it in his bones. JC would know, and Lance would rather out himself to the world than see pity fill JC's eyes with the knowledge.

"He wasn't the one. I am." JC's words shot through Lance's system and had him shaking his head and taking several steps back.

"Yes." Determination etched in every line of his body, JC followed Lance. "I know it's you, Lance. For months now, since Joey's wedding, I've known. I looked up while they were saying their vows and you were looking at me, and it was just," JC spread his arms wide. "There."

"No."

"Yes." JC took another step forward. "I don't know why I never saw it before, why I didn't feel it until then, but I knew. I still know, and it's not going to change. No matter how many times you back away or say no, I'm your one." JC touched Lance's flushed cheek. "And you're mine."

Shock trembled through Lance's body and he wanted to rage, strike out at something, because this was so cruel; cruel and unfair and he didn't deserve it, no matter what his sins, he didn't deserve this false hope over something that was never going to happen.

"I know you might not believe it, that you think this is just rebound or something from Chris, but it's not. I've always known that when it was right I'd feel it. I feel it."

"You can't. A month ago you were living with Chris, in love with Chris."

"No, I wasn't. We shared the same house, and you're right, I did - do - love him. I always will, but it wasn't like you think, Lance. It hasn't been since we got back from the wedding. I could never lie to him, and I didn't. When we got home, we talked and we started moving away from each other. The final break came the day…well, you know about that."

Lance watched JC's hand drop as he took a reluctant step back. JC had always read people well; Lance knew that he could see that Lance needed space, and as much as he might want to get closer there were ways to deal with this, and boxing Lance in wasn't one of them.

"I wasn't going to tell you any of this yet, because I didn't want you think this was just a rebound thing, but you said that about Chris and I thought…I had to. I tried so hard not to come in here tonight, Lance, but today, sleeping with my arms around you, I couldn't resist the chance that I could have that again. I'm sorry."

"Why?" Lance asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Because, I never meant for you to find out like this. I thought you knew, that Chris had told you about us. I thought that if we spent enough time together that you'd start to see, and when you did you'd know it had everything to do with you and nothing with Chris, and now--"

"I don't know what to think," Lance confessed.

"I know," JC sighed, and Lance could see the struggle going on behind his eyes. "Can I?" he finally asked, stepping forward with opened arms.

Lance nodded, he couldn't not, and this time it was his head on JC's shoulder, though JC was the one again assuring him that everything was going to be okay.

It wasn't something that Lance was sure he could believe. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of a dream and it was a very thin line between it being sweet or turning into a nightmare, because regardless of what he felt or what JC thought he was feeling, there was Chris to consider and a group whose future was teetering on the edge as it was. Adding this to the mix, Lance wasn't sure he wanted to think about what that would do to either.

"Chris-" he began, but JC wouldn't let him finish.

"Knows." The hand that had been running soothingly over Lance's back stilled. "You don't really believe that I would be here, telling you this, if I hadn't told him first?"

"I don't know." Lance stepped away from JC's touch. "I don't know what to think, or what to do. This is just so--" Lance lifted his arms and then let them fall heavily to his side. "I can't think."

"Okay." JC ran his hands down the length of Lance's arms. "Then this is what we're going to do; you're going to go back to bed, I'm going to go back to my room, and tomorrow I'm going to find alternate living arrangements."

Lance's head snapped up at that.

"I think we need some space," JC told him, though they both knew he meant Lance was the one who needed it. "Without me here, you'll be able to think clearer and I'll be able to show you that you're not just a crutch and this isn't some rebound thing." Unable to resist, JC touched Lance's face again. "Because it's not, at all, and I need you to know that."

Torn between knowing JC was right and not wanting him to go, Lance turned his face into JC's hand and confessed, "I don't want you to go."

JC's smile caught Lance right in the heart. "I know."

They hugged one last time, Lance's arms wrapped tight around JC's middle and then JC was pulling him towards the bed and urging, "In you go."

He was gone before Lance could protest, the door closing quietly behind him, and the spot on Lance's forehead where he'd kissed him still warm from his lips. Thoughts jumbled together in Lance's head and he groaned as he flipped over onto his side to stare at the pillow where a short time before JC had laid his head. He wanted to reach out and pull it to his face, but God, talk about girl, so he resisted and instead laid his hand on it.

Sleep came sooner than Lance expected and he woke slowly, the late morning sun shimmering around the edges of window. Again, he rolled towards what he now thought as JC's pillow, only this time instead of finding it empty it held a note.

Off to Joey's house, where he is allowing me to mooch for the foreseeable future. Dinner tomorrow at 7. I'll pick you up. Wear a suit.

Until then - C

Anticipation washed over Lance. He had a date, with JC, tomorrow, at seven, and until then JC had given him time to think and - Lance eyed the clock and then crawled out of bed - to mend a few fences.

He bought a case of Chris's favorite beer, because he knew that would get him through the door faster than a hundred I'm sorrys.

Still, though Chris had buzzed him through the gate with no problem, he kept him hanging at the door for longer than they both knew he had to.

When he finally got around to opening it, Lance thrust the case into his stomach. "So I was an ass for no reason, but you could have told me that, Chris and saved us both the grief."

"Dude, far be it for me to stop you from making an ass of yourself."

"Jerk," Lance grumbled on his way to the kitchen, though Chris didn't let him have the last word.

"If anyone would know about jerks, babe, it'd be you."

"Okay, fine." Lance pulled the case away from Chris and began loading it into the fridge. "I'm sorry."

Chris settled onto a stool at the island, his chin resting on his fisted hand to watch Lance work. "You should be."

"I thought…"

"I know what you thought," Chris injected with a sigh. "Hell; I guess if I'd been you, I'd have thought it, too. Still…" Chris shot Lance a look when he would have spoken. "You could have given me the benefit of the doubt, man. I love him, too."

"Shit." Lance stopped pushing beer bottles into the fridge, the cool air rushing out over him and again offered, "Shit."

"Yeah, it sucks. Lance," Chris scolded, pulling Lance away from the refrigerator. "There's enough damn beer in there for an army already. Leave it for now."

Lance kicked at the tile with the toe of his sneaker several times before looking up at Chris. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Chris shrugged. "But that's life. It was never meant to last forever, Lance. It was just a," Chris waved his arm. "A thing…until the next thing came along." He smiled at Lance. "And it looks like you're that thing, man. The thing."

"How can you--" Lance trailed off.

"Because he's your thing, too, and he wasn't ever mine." Chris opened the refrigerator door; grabbed two of the beers Lance had just put in and gestured to the stools. "Not that this isn't bothering me, because it is. We're talking JC here after all and he's…" Chris thought for a minute and then grinned at Lance. "Special, but we both knew going in that this wasn't a forever kind of thing."

"How can you not want that?" Lance asked, because if this thing worked out between him and JC, he wouldn't give him up, not without a fight.

"I just don't. It's not me. I don't have a problem making a commitment, but for a lifetime…" Chris shivered. "No thanks."

Chris downed half his bottle before he spoke again. "That's what he wants, what you both want. It took him a while to figure that out, but this is JC we're talking about and he's nothing if not slow when it comes to shit like this. You, I'd say you've known a bit longer he was what you were looking for."

"I never--" Lance started to protest, with Chris again cutting him off.

"I never said you did, Lance. You hid it well, but I know you well." Chris slid his now empty bottle across the counter. "Sometimes, I'd see you look at him, like at Joey's wedding, which I'm sure you know is how he figured it out, too. He saw you looking at him and the light bulb went off."

"I didn't mean for this to happen. You're-"

"I know I am, dude." Chris' smile was evil when he continued, "I feel the same about you, which will not stop me from doing what you threatened and killing you if you fuck this up."

"I don't know what's going to happen."

"No?" Chris asked, because he was pretty sure that they both did, Lance just wasn't ready or was too scared, to admit it yet.

"He's--"

"Intense as hell when he wants something, and he's not afraid to go after what he wants." Chris looked down at the counter, remembering. "This - you, it means everything to him, Lance. He was kind when he told me, because he is after all JC, but I knew that even if I'd told him it wasn't what I wanted, we were done. He looked at you and saw what he'd always wanted to see, and that was that."

Chris rose and took his empty bottle to the sink. "So, seriously don't fuck this up, man. Let go of all that anal shit you have going on in your head and take what the boy is offering. And no matter what, you and I, JC and I, we're solid. I promise you that."

Lance came home to an answering machine full of messages from Joey, most of them along the variety of 'What the hell is going on there, Lance?' The final message however wasn't from Joe, but from Justin.

'Hey. I just talked to Chris and he said that if I wanted to talk to C I should call here. So, I'm callin. Hit me back, man.'

Lance elected to ignore Justin for the time being and instead called back his best friend. It took five minutes of Joey babbling, with Lance holding the phone away from his ear before he was finally able to get a word in, and then he was only allowed to talk between the questions that Joey kept firing at him.

He was exhausted by the time they were done, though Lance thought he'd managed to soothe the Italian mother inside Joey at least. Lance had just settled into the couch, remote in hand when the phone rang again.

He gave serious thought to letting it ring, but then thinking it might be JC, he caved. "Lo."

"Hey, its J. C never called me back, is he there?"

No, hi Lance, how are you. No, fuck you Lance, I'm still not happy with you, either; just where is C and why didn't you play message boy for me and have him call me back. It was pure Justin, but it was also his bad luck that he was the last person Lance felt like dealing with today, because out of all of them, he was the best at pushing Lance's buttons.

"Last I looked, Justin, I wasn't your messenger service and this wasn't JC's phone number. Having trouble keeping things straight these days?"

"Fuck off, Bass. I just want to talk to, C, man. I don't need or care to deal with your shit, so just put him on the phone. Chris said that I could find him there."

"Chris lied, he's not here. Sorry I couldn't be of more assistance, now why don't you fuck off, J."

Click.

Lance smiled as he tossed the phone onto the end table, right up until a picture of JC's face frowning as he always did when Justin and Lance got into it filled his head.

"Shit."

JC must have his cell off, which was why Justin was calling all over looking for him, and when he found out that J had been looking for him and Lance hadn't passed on the message, Lance knew he'd feel JC's disappointment without him ever having to say a word.

He practically drove his finger through the phone as he punched the numbers for Joey's house.

"Fatone residence," JC answered, and Lance smiled.

"Hi."

"Hey." JC's smile was in his voice, and Lance settled back into the cushion picturing it moving across his face.

"How're things?" Lance asked, delaying the Justin part of the conversation and all that went with it for as long as possible.

"Good, man. You know Joey, he's got everything here a person could possibly need and then a few hundred other things. I'm good. It's quiet though."

"Yeah, here, too," Lance confessed, before getting to the real reason for his call. "So, listen, J called. I guess Chris told him you were here."

"Uh, oh," JC sighed into the phone. "What happened?"

"You mean aside from both of us telling the other to fuck off, not much."

"Lance."

"JC."

"Why must the two of you insist on going at each other constantly?"

"Because he's a cocky little shit who lately doesn't think about anyone but himself?" Lance bounded off the couch to pace around the room. "No wait, maybe it's because he's let his 'Supa-star' status go to his fucking head and the last three times I called him for something he's had his assistant get back to me."

"He's busy, Lance, you know that. And right now, he's more into his solo stuff than group stuff. He's entitled."

"Oh fuck that, JC. He's not entitled to be an ass and blow us off when we're not convenient."

"He doesn't do that. Okay," JC backtracked when Lance growled into the phone. "Maybe sometimes he does, but he's got a lot on his plate now and he's a little overwhelmed."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't give him the right to treat the people who helped him get there like shit, C. Stop making excuses for him."

"He's not like that with me, baby. You know that." Or with Joey or Chris, but JC didn't say that, because the topic was already touchy enough as it was. "The two of you, you just - you've hit a bad spot or something. You need to fix it."

"No."

"For me." JC used his best coaxing tone, the one he knew none of them could say no to, the one he was going to use on Justin as soon as he hung up with Lance. "Please."

"You're not playing fair, JC."

"No, you're right, I'm not. But he's important to me. He's important to you, too. You're just pissed at him now."

Always, it seemed to Lance, he was always pissed at Justin about one thing or another. The little shit, which is how Lance always thought of him despite their closeness in age, never failed to rub him the wrong way, and most of the time he did it on purpose.

"Lance," JC prodded.

"Okay, fine, I'll call him. Tomorrow. I'm not making any promises though."

"Fair enough."

"So." Lance settled back onto the couch. "Seven tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, seven."

"You going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope."

"JC," Lance whined in perfect imitation of Justin, and they both laughed.

"Sorry, but you'll have to wait and see."

"Meanie," Lance scolded, but there was no heat behind it.

JC's soft laugher wrapped around Lance like a warm blanket, and he closed his eyes as they chatted, savoring this new aspect of their relationship.

"You falling asleep on me, Bass?" JC asked, jerking Lance out of the little fantasy he'd been building in his head.

"Um," Lance cleared his throat. "No, I-"

"I think," JC interjected. "That on that note, I'm going to let you go, before we both get into trouble."

"Getting in trouble could be a good thing," Lance teased.

"Tell me," JC growled into the phone.

Feeling daring with JC across town, Lance drawled, "Why don't you come over here and I'll show you."

"Tomorrow," JC answered, and Lance went still.

"C-"

"Tomorrow. We'll - talk."

Lance shifted so that he was lying prone on the couch, "Okay."

"Get some sleep."

"You, too."

"Night, baby."

Lance smiled at the endearment. "Good night."

He'd fallen asleep on the couch and had woken at three with a crick in his neck and the television gone snowy. He'd slept badly after that, so his disposition when the phone rang the next morning wasn't the best it could be.

It didn't get better when he picked up and he heard Justin on the other end.

"I talked to C last night. So…the two of you, huh?"

Lance put his aching head down on the cool tabletop and sighed, "I-"

"It's cool, man. I'm not going to give you any grief over it if that's what you're thinking. I guess I kind of knew that you always had a thing for him."

First Chris, and now Justin.

"What am I, transparent?"

"Apparently to everyone but JC," Justin answered.

"Great."

"Hey, you were among friends, right? So, no biggie."

"Yeah, but."

"Lance, if there's one thing that you do way too damn much, it's overanalyze things. We saw, so what, big fucking deal. You had a thing for him and now he has one for you, so it all worked out in the end, didn't it? And it didn't matter one bit what we all saw, because it had no impact on the outcome."

"Don't fucking talk logical to me, J. I'm still pissed at you."

Now it was Justin's turn to sigh. "When haven't you been pissed at me?"

"That time in - what was in 97 - when we were in Germany. I didn't mind you that much then."

"Ass."

"Yeah, well, you do try to go out of your way to annoy the shit out of me, J."

"It's just part of my charm, Bass."

"You have charm?" Lance managed to sound genuinely puzzled. "Go figure."

"I have no clue what the fuck he sees in you."`

"Ditto."

"Seriously, if he wanted to hook up with a smartass, he could have just stuck with Chris."

Ouch.

"Okay, so maybe that was uncalled for," Justin admitted when the ugly silence between them stretched out. "Especially since I talked to Chris last night, too and I know he's good with all of this."

"So, you know," Justin continued when Lance remained silent. "Maybe I'm sorry about all the shit that happened with us since Challenge."

"Okay."

"Ass."

"Me, too." Lance was grinning though Justin couldn't see him. "Mostly."

"So, I can tell JC we've kissed and made up, and he can stop worrying and start…what the fuck was it he called it…courting." Justin laughed manically at the stunned silence he got from Lance. "You did know he was part girl, right?"

"Courting is not something a girl would say."

"Nope, it's something a southern boy like you would."

"Oh fuck you, Justin."

"My work here is done."

Justin's laughter was flowing out of the phone when Lance hung up on him.

"Courting," Lance snorted, and then when the thought truly hit him that this was JC they'd been talking about, his eyes widened, and he thought, oh shit, courting.

Justin had been yanking his chain, something that Lance would get him back for at the first available opportunity, but right now he was too busy trying not to look like a complete moron in front of JC - his date.

He'd answered the door promptly at seven to find JC standing there in a dark gray suit, pale pink shirt, opened at the collar, neatly shaven, his hair curling against his neck, looking good enough to make Lance want to take a huge bite out of him.

God.

He'd yet to find his voice, which was fine because JC wasn't saying much himself. In fact, he was pretty much doing the same as Lance, standing and staring. He recovered quicker than Lance and then he was handing over the bottle of wine he had in hand and commenting, "You know I could never resist a man in black."

Lance could feel the color creep up into his cheeks and he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "Momma always said you couldn't go wrong with black," he said and JC laughed.

"Remind me to thank your mom the next time we see her."

That - the thought of their new relationship coupled with his mother - more even than finding JC dressed in his finest on his doorstep, totally flustered Lance.

"We have time for a glass of that," JC nodded at the bottle of wine in Lance's hand. "Before dinner, if you'll let me come in."

"Oh. God. I'm sorry." Lance stepped back from the door. "Come in. Please."

Lance led the way into the kitchen, his back tingling where JC's hand rested. He made quick work out of finding the corkscrew and opening the wine. When the each had a glass of the deep red liquid, JC raised his glass and offered simply, "To new beginnings."

They drank to his toast, and then JC took the glass from Lance's hand. "I know that we'll both be thinking of this all through dinner, so." He leaned in, cupping Lance's face between his palms and touched his mouth to Lance's. His lips were soft, full, and so warm. Sweet and tender, persuasive, they coaxed a response from Lance. His heart stopped, pounded, and then stopped again when JC licked at the seam of his lips. It was an invitation too tempting to resist, certainly for someone who had waited as long as Lance had for a moment like this, and Lance opened for him, took him in and gave himself over to the kiss.

JC's lips were swollen when they parted and Lance couldn't resist reaching up to run his fingers over them. He was rock hard and certain that he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted the man standing in front of him.

JC must have seen something in his eyes, because he stepped back and picked Lance's wine back up, handing it to him. "We have to leave soon."

Lance closed the space between them. "We could skip dinner."

JC traced a line over the stubble on Lance's jaw. "We could. Or we could go out, enjoy each other's company over dinner, and then come back and," he nipped at Lance's mouth, "enjoy each other more."

It was the smart thing to do, Lance knew it; especially when as of only yesterday morning he hadn't been sure about this at all. A lot had changed since then, his talk with Chris had gone a long way towards that, but still slowing things down a bit, at least until after they'd eaten, might not be such a bad thing.

"I can deal with that," Lance answered, though he couldn't resist one last kiss before leaving, nor did JC protest when Lance pulled him towards him.

"Just one more," Lance murmured, his mouth brushing over JC's. "To hold me over." He was much too busy after that, showing JC just a bit of what he could look forward to later, to say anything more.

JC had brought the Mercedes, which he knew Lance secretly coveted, and the car purred smoothly beneath them as they wove his way through traffic - to where Lance still didn't know.

They'd been quiet for a good fifteen minutes, simply enjoying sharing the same space, when JC spoke.

"So, your mother hen called me this morning."

Lance blinked in confusion. "My mother hen?"

"Joey."

"Ah. That's funny, ha, ha. Though now that you mention it, I talked to your mother hen this morning, too."

JC merely nodded. "I was kind of wondering about that. Did you guys work things out, or are you going to force me to knock your heads together for the," JC shot a quick glance over at Lance. "How many times would this be?"

"He's a pest."

"He's the little brother you never had, man."

"And also the one that I am now very sure I never want."

"You're two peas in a pod," JC shot back.

"Oh please, we couldn't be more different if we tried."

"Uh huh."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just uh huh."

"Oh, yeah, right. Look, just because we're both a bit anal about things and we like stuff to run a certain way, doesn't mean we're alike. Not by a long shot."

"If you say so, love."

"I do."

JC nodded agreeably, and then ruined it by saying under his breath, "Peas in a pod, man, peas in a pod."

Lance had finally stopped pouting by the time they were seated at Costantinos. Of course it'd helped that JC had chosen his favorite Italian restaurant and had somehow managed to score a private booth in the back.

Lance was happily trying to decide between Scallops Alla Aurore and the Cappellini Primavera when JC brought up Joey again.

"So, about your mother hen, it seems he's worried that we've lost our minds."

"He's just being Joey."

JC's attention strayed to the sommelier as he returned with their wine selection, and Lance took a minute to study his date unnoticed.

A smile spread over his face at the attention that JC was giving to the wine tasting ritual. If it had been him, Lance would have absently glanced at the bottle, waved the cork away, taken a small sip and that would have been that. Not JC, he went through each step as if it were of the utmost importance to maintaining world order, and then practically bowed to their sommelier when the ritual was done.

"You're grinning at me," JC mused, when his attention returned to Lance.

"Am I?" Lance took a small sip of his wine and hummed appreciatively. "Mm, good."

"Yes, you are, but as you are so obviously loving my choice of wine, I'll let the fact that you're poking fun at me in your head slide."

Lance's nose wrinkled. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my mind?"

JC slid his hand over the table until it touched Lance's, "You live here." JC touched a finger of his other hand to his head, and then his heart. "And here."

Lance turned his wrist and their hands clasped. "You're not making it easy to stay over here on my side of the table."

"Wanting something and not being able to have it is never easy."

The expression on JC's face was serious enough for Lance to know that they had gone beyond talking about sex.

"No, it's not."

"Joey." JC paused, studying Lance. "He told me how long it's been."

"Joey is a dead man."

"No." JC squeezed Lance's fingers. "He's your friend, and he loves you. Enough to make sure that you wouldn't be hurt if I were just, as he called it, playing."

The intensity in the blue eyes across from him stole Lance's breath. "I told Joey the same thing I'm going to tell you now, Lance, no holding back. I've never been more serious about anything in my life than I am about you and making this work." In the blink of an eye the intensity was gone, and JC was leaning back to reach for his wine. "I thought you should know that."

The waiter arrived to take their order and the moment was lost, but Lance knew it would be some time before he forgot what JC had said and how it'd made him feel. Once the waiter had their dinner choices and took his leave, Lance took a moment to think of how he wanted to bring up his conversation with Chris. JC beat him to it.

"I talked to Chris this morning; he said you went to see him yesterday."

With a shake of his head, Lance sighed, "You've been a busy boy, haven't you?"

A small smile played over JC's lips at the look of exasperation Lance sent him. "I talk to him everyday, Lance, this morning we just happened to talk about you."

It surprised Lance to hear JC say he spoke to Chris daily; he'd been under the impression that earlier in the week when JC had gone to their house had been the first time he'd spoken to Chris since the breakup.

"He's my friend." And for JC it was as simple as that. It would take Lance a bit longer to forget that Chris and JC had also been much more. "And we work together."

"You were also, up until a few weeks ago, lovers."

"No." JC laid his hand over Lance's, wanting his full attention. "We weren't. After Joey's wedding - for a little while, yeah - but then - I couldn't. It wouldn't have been right."

"But."

"Look, Lance. I loved Chris for a long time, and yes, we had sex. We were a couple, and we did couple things, but then we stopped like we both kind of always knew we would. It still hurts, because there's history there, and it probably will for a while yet. Hell, I'll admit, it's weird talking to him, but I'm not giving up years - years, Lance - of friendship because right now things are a little weird, and I think its best you know that up front."

"Okay."

"And I don't think--" JC was on a roll and it took him a second to catch up to what Lance had said. "What?"

"I said, okay. He's my friend, too. I can deal with the rest."

"Are you sure? Because I'm not a big fan of leaving shit hanging, Lance. If there's a problem, I want to bring it out in the open, fix it, and then leave it behind us."

It was how JC had always dealt with relationships; Lance knew that, everyone who knew JC knew that, still it made his stomach clench to know that those rules now applied to a relationship that was his and JC's.

"I'm sure. No BS, no telling you what you want to hear; Chris isn't a problem for me. End of story."

"Good." JC smiled cheekily at him. "Because you know what they say about girls and sex."

"Uhm…huh?"

"They're not receptive to having any if there are issues in a relationship."

His brow furrowed in concentration, Lance gently asked, "JC, are you feeling okay?"

JC's lips twitched. "I'm feeling great." He played with Lance's fingers, threading his between them, before he stroked his thumb lightly over Lance's palm. "Better than great, actually."

"Did you have a lot of wine before you came and picked me up? Or," Lance dropped his voice discreetly. "Something else?"

This time JC laughed outright. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Completely flustered now, Lance mumbled something that JC couldn't quiet catch.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Don't ever let anyone accuse you of being slow, love." JC took the sting out of his words with a soft smile. "Yes, I'm teasing you. You're always so fond of telling me that I'm a girl, so I thought." JC shrugged as he trailed off.

"Oh!" Duh, Lance thought, on both their parts, because honestly, throwing girls and their sex habits into that mix had been pretty lame. "That was--"

"Stupid, silly - pick an adjective."

"I was going to say you. It was very - you."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" JC asked, smiling at the waiter who had arrived with their food.

"Good," Lance decided, after deliberately leaving JC hanging for several minutes.

JC was already digging into his food when he answered, so his, "Mm hmm," could have been either his agreement with Lance, or his appreciation for what he'd ordered. Lance wasn't sure, nor when JC launched into a story about his brother and his latest misadventure with his current flavor of the month, did he care. He simply wanted to enjoy the meal and JC - and the anticipation of what was to come later - when they were back at his house again, and alone.

They touched - continuously - on the ride back to Lance's house; a soft stroke of a hand over a shoulder; the light brush of fingertips across a knee. It was by turns torturous and sweet, this prelude to what they both knew was coming. Eventually the distraction became too much for JC, and he clasped Lance's hand, bringing it to rest under his on his thigh.

It seemed the longest ride ever, and Lance would have sworn that JC's thigh was vibrating by the time they pulled into the drive. They didn't speak as Lance unlocked the door and coded in the alarm; they'd said all that they'd needed to for now. What they needed now weren't more words, but a more physical expression of how they felt. They needed to touch, taste - feel - whatever else needed to be said could wait, what they wanted now was more of what they'd shared in the car. Much, much more.

The door had barely closed behind them and JC was wrapping himself around Lance, pushing him against the wall. JC's mouth was on his, hot and hungry, demanding the same from Lance and God, he was giving it because he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wanted this; JC's body pressed hard against him, his hands roaming over Lance's body, and before he realized it, his shirt was undone and JC's hands were skimming over his skin, touching everywhere they could reach until he pulled back, panting, and Lance could only imagine what he looked like backed against the wall, his shirt open but not fully un-tucked, his hair a mess from JC's hands.

"More," JC groaned, and then his mouth was there, taking the place of his hands, and Lance groaned too, because, fuck, he was going to explode, right there in his foyer, and screw making it to the bedroom; he wanted like he had never known he could.

JC's body was hot, solid, and hard under the soft silk of his pants when Lance reached down to touch him. It was JC's moan that unleashed something inside of Lance, and without thinking Lance was pushing JC, knocking him into the wall with a solid thud that had something on the hall table crashing to the floor. Lance didn't stop to see what it was, he didn't care, all he wanted was to taste - now, and the need was almost brutal as he ripped at the button of JC's pants. He groaned when it popped free, and then JC was there, sweet, so sweet on his tongue, and Lance couldn't be bothered to complain when JC's fingers dug into the back of his head. It was a pleasure/pain that added to the hunger and Lance moaned with it as his hands grasped JC's hips, pinning them to the wall.

Lance meant to prolong the pleasure until JC reached the point where he was begging for release. Only then would he stop the slow torturous sweep of his tongue and take JC deep into his throat.

JC tried to arch his hips, wanting more, and Lance chuckled, shifting so that his arm settled over JC's waist and he had a hand free to play.

"Fucker," JC accused, his head bumping against the wall, and Lance had known that the circling, teasing, not touching where JC needed to be touched, trail of his fingers over JC's thigh would drive him nuts. This time though, when JC tugged at his hair, Lance went where he wanted him and with one swallow took JC deep.

There was a thrill to that, to easing up on JC's hips just enough to let him thrust once, twice into Lance's mouth before Lance took control again and had JC whimpering, "Pleasefucknow."

"Not yet," Lance told him as he shifted his weight and took his mouth on a journey up and over the tight muscles of JC's stomach. His tongue dipped into JC's belly button and out again, soft and teasing, and then he was biting and licking over JC's ribs, his thumbs tracing up to find and tease hard, tight nipples. "Want to be inside you, feel you come."

JC jerked at the words, and it wasn't hard for Lance to imagine what he was feeling, his body so in tune with JC's that it was almost as if he were touching his own. When he scraped a nail over JC's nipple his own tingled in response, and when he kissed his way up JC's chest to his neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, he felt the sting of his teeth on his own skin.

Lance thought it impossible to feel more, to need more than what he did in that moment, until JC was kissing him again, soft and slow, taking his time as he helped Lance shed his jacket and shirt. They were skin to skin then and still it wasn't enough, not even when JC kicked free of his shoes and pants and was standing beautifully naked in front of him.

Lance yearned to feel every inch of JC's skin, wanted the thrill of touching JC everywhere, and he needed it to be now. Lance was suddenly filled with impatience as he pulled JC down the hall and into the great room where they kissed again, dirty and rough, before JC gave a hard tug on Lance's swollen bottom lip with his teeth, and their hands were tangling over Lance's belt and they were laughing breathlessly as they tumbled onto the cool leather of the couch, Lance thanking God that he'd thought to dump a few necessary items in an end table drawer.

It was the sweetest thing he'd ever felt, sliding deep into JC with one long stroke. He loved the noises that JC made, from soft whimpers to husky growls, as he stroked slow and smooth. It was good, so, so good to feel JC tighten around him, to bend down and take those soft pink lips in a hungry kiss and Lance wanted it to last forever.

JC's mouth was sweet, and Lance took his time savoring every inch of it, nipping at his lips and tongue, stroking the hurts away, over and over again until JC was arching under him and pleading, "Pleasepleaseplease," in a voice raw with need.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Lance groaned, thrusting up hard, his hand wrapping around JC, matching his rhythm stroke for stroke. JC strained up, took Lance's mouth with a soft murmur and Lance slowed, moving sure and smooth, his hands reaching up to find and clasp onto JC's. It was worth every second of pain he'd ever spent, wishing for what he'd thought he couldn't have, to have JC here now, to be living this feeling this. It was a pleasure so sweet it was breathtaking. As breathtaking as JC was when he whimpered and arched high, pulling Lance deeper, dragging a hoarse groan from deep within him.

Lance wanted to keep feeling that, just that, forever, but he felt his orgasm building, starting at the base of his spine. He drove harder, deeper, his mouth fused to JC's, waiting for what seemed an eternity before JC came, and only then did Lance let himself go moaning, "Babyfuckloveyou," into JC's neck.

There was no question of his moving, not just yet, though he did do his best to keep his full weight off of JC, not that JC seemed to mind Lance lying on him. In fact, if the low hum coming from him was any indication, JC was pretty happy with the status quo of the moment.

"C'mere," JC ordered, pulling Lance close for a soul stirring kiss. The man loved to kiss, Lance thought, not that he was complaining because JC could do incredible things with his mouth, and there was no way in hell that Lance was going to do anything but savor every second.

"So, so good, baby." JC feathered his fingers through Lance's hair, and Lance dropped his head down onto JC's chest, a shiver working its way through him. "You like that?" JC asked, despite already knowing the answer. Lance was practically purring in pleasure.

"Fuck, yeah," Lance groaned, because now JC was using his nails, and hell if that wasn't making him want to fuck JC senseless again. Or better yet, he thought flicking his tongue over JC's nipple, let JC have his way with him. Now, there was an idea with potential, one that he and JC seemed to be of like mind about if his busy hands were any indication.

"God," JC breathed against Lance's mouth. "I am never going to get enough of how you feel against me."

Please, fuck, don't ever let him change his mind, Lance thought, because the feel of JC's skin sliding over his was the best thing he'd felt in a seriously long time.

"I think though," JC was talking again and Lance had to force himself to focus on the words. "That I'd much rather do what I have in mind next in your bed."

Bed - yes. Room to spread out, with soft sheets and acres of mattress to play on and Lance had no problem buying into that. It was cold when he sat up - and sticky - but a few quick swipes with his shirt took care of that, and the blanket he grabbed off the back of the couch to wrap around both he and JC took care of the other.

They tripped up the stairs, Lance behind JC, and fell, one stubbed toe later, laughing, onto Lance's bed.

Lance complained loudly about his toe until JC shimmied down the bed and had him so far in his throat he was seeing stars and focusing hard on not embarrassing himself by coming like a teenager in two seconds.

It was worse when he looked down and saw JC's lips slide over him, an electric shock up his spine to see that and then look up to find JC watching him back. Lance couldn't look away, because JC was nothing if not intense as he used his tongue to shred Lance's control. It was one slam after another through his system; those eyes, that tongue, and fuck, that hot, hungry mouth moving up and over him. Colors sparked behind his eyes when he slammed them shut, because he couldn't hold on and watch at the same time, and then JC was swallowing him again and again, and fuck control, because JC was humming, too, and he could feel it through every inch of his body as he brutally fucked JC's mouth and came hard.

There was a moment when the world went black, and when he came back to his surroundings, it was to find himself on his stomach with JC raining kisses over his back and neck. "So beautiful; want you, so much."

And though Lance didn't know how he could possibly take anymore, he was because JC was sliding one slick finger over and in him and then another and Lance was clutching a fistful of sheets because JC was there - hot, hard - and he felt so full and it was good, so-so good the way JC slowly slid all the way out and then quickly back in again.

The fall of words never stopped, even when JC's lips and teeth were working over his skin, but Lance was so far gone at that point he only managed to catch a few here and there, loveneedfuckingbeautifulyou.

It had seemed impossible for him to come again, but JC's hips drove high and deep and Lance could feel the spark of it through every nerve ending in his body. It was a sweet agony that increased when JC reached down and fisted his cock at the same time his teeth unerringly fond the sweet spot on the back of Lance's neck. There was a sharp bite of pain when JC's teeth sank into his skin that had Lance howling over the edge. He could feel JC follow him, his fingers digging into Lance's hips as he ground into him one final time. They tumbled into a sweaty heap onto the sheets and Lance realized the whimpering he's hearing is coming from his own mouth.

"Shhhitsokay," JC mumbled, sliding in close behind Lance to draw him back against him. "Loveyouloveyouloveyou," he hummed, until all Lance could hear was JC's voice in his head. It soothed him, the combination of JC's voice and touch, and he drifted half asleep, wrapped in JC's arms until sleep unknowingly took him.

It was a shock to find himself drifting awake hours later to soft sunlight, and Lance was torn between embarrassment and lust when he opened his eyes to find JC watching him, his eyes sleepy; his hair a tousled mess.

"Hi." He smiled, his voice gruff with sleep, and JC returned the greeting by bending down to nuzzle the corner of Lance's mouth. It was a short stretch from there to kissing and Lance wasn't surprised that both of them were willing to forgo the niceties of things like toothpaste to get there.

Morning sex had always Lance's favorite and with more enthusiasm than finesse he did his level best to show JC just how much he loved it, and him. They slept again; entwined in one endless tangle of arms and legs, and hours later Lance was awakened by the sound of the shower running. Lance was tempted to join JC, but there were things they needed to settle and he knew that would never happen if he did. Instead, he dug through his dresser until he came up with a couple pairs of sweats, threw one on the bed, crawled into the other and headed downstairs for coffee. He had a desperate need of coffee.

It didn't surprise him that a good thirty minutes went by before JC came down. Lance knew that JC tended to take the longest showers known to man. He had a steaming cup of coffee, heavy on the cream, ready when JC finally wandered in. JC's hair didn't look any less messy for his shower than it had hours before; except that now it was dripping onto the shoulders of the light grey t-shirt he'd pulled on.

Lance had gone shirtless, something that seemed to please JC if the way his eyes traveled over Lance's torso was any indication, and suddenly Lance was extremely conscious of his partial nudity.

"We need to talk," he said, a bit more gruffly than he'd intended, as he watched JC drag a hand through his wet hair, flinging drops of water in every direction.

"Oh."

It was the quiet, oh no, in that one word that had Lance reaching in the drawer behind him for a clean dishtowel. "C'mere," he ordered, tugging JC close. "You're getting everything soaked."

JC complied, resting his forehead on Lance's chest, allowing him to run the towel over his curls. It was sweet and sexy at the same time, and Lance couldn't help but throw the towel aside and use his fingers to comb out the tangles in JC's hair. Of course, that had JC arching into the touch, tempting Lance to scrape his teeth over the cord of JC's neck - which would take them nowhere but to the floor or back upstairs to bed - so instead Lance slid quickly out from under JC, and just barely managed to shoot out a hand and catch him before he slammed into the kitchen counter.

"Sorry, I-"

But JC was laughing, and Lance knew it was because JC was aware of why he'd been in such a hurry to get away and that was just - wrong.

"We can't just keep having sex every time we turn around," Lance protested, which had JC chuckling even more.

"Why not?"

"Because we…because," Lance sputtered, and then frustration kicked in and had him picking up the towel and throwing it at JC. "It's not funny, C."

"I'm sorry, you're right, it's not," JC agreed, wrapping his arms around Lance. "You're just so fucking cute when you're flustered."

"Amnotcute," Lance mumbled into his neck, but he was feeling better, if a little silly for the way he'd acted, and it wasn't all that hard to wrap his arms around JC's back and take a minute to just enjoy holding him.

"What'd you want to talk about?" JC asked, rocking back so that he could see Lance.

"I. Last night was - incredible," and unbelievably intense. "And I - don't - you - Joey's," Lance growled in frustration before he finally blurted out, "Stay. Don't go back to Joey's; don't get your own place, just stay."

"Yeah?"

Lance laughed, because honestly. After all this, could JC really still not get it?

"Yeah."

"Really?" JC bounced on the balls of his feet. "Because you know it's okay - if you don't want to. I mean, if you need more time. You know, to be sure. Or maybe you just aren't ready to live with someone, because sometimes that can be a pain. You might want privacy and they're always hanging around, or--"

Lance grinned and began to push JC backwards through the kitchen door. "God, I love you."

JC beamed. "Yeah?"

Lance stopped in the middle of the hall and pressed his forehead to JC's. "Yes, JC Chasez, I Lance Bass, love you. Very," he kissed JC's nose, mouth, and chin. "Very much."

"Okay," JC sighed, snuggling into Lance. "Okay, that's good, because I love you, too, but there's just one thing."

Lance laughed, because really, how could he not?

"What?"

JC looked around at the hallway and then back at Lance. "Why are we here, and not still in bed?"

"I was trying to get us back there," Lance told him. "But someone kept asking me silly questions."

"The only stupid question is the one you don't ask," JC informed him with a nod.

"You know, when you first showed up on my doorstep I thought that I must have done something horrible as a child, because you were all that I wanted and I thought I couldn't have you. Then things started changing and I figured I must have been wrong, because here you are, but now faced with a lifetime of JC logic," Lance winked and started easing JC towards the stairs again. "I'm really not so sure I didn't do something horrible after all."