Challenge
Lance is totally fucked. Okay, maybe not totally. It’s not like everybody hates him, or anything. Even Chris isn’t really mad at him, just kind of exasperated with his inability to realize that they’re all older and wiser and Lance really needs to let go of some of his issues. Lance understands that.What he doesn’t understand is why Justin is being so nice to him. After the first couple of days of pained silence, during which Lance gave serious thought to deserting the tour, just escaping in the middle of the night without even leaving a note, Justin isn’t just being nice, he’s being kind to him, nodding cheerfully as he passes him the salt at dinner, touching his arm companionably as he hands him a towel backstage after the concert, smiling brightly as he holds the door open for him when they enter the hotel lobby.
“Joey, what is he doing?” Lance demands. “I’m not a girl. Do you think he knows that?”
Joey looks at him strangely. “Um, Lance, if Justin doesn’t remember that you’re not a girl, I’m not sure I wanna know what you guys were doing in the shower for all those years.”
“Shut up,” Lance says mildly, blushing only slightly at the images Joey’s words conjure up. Justin, wet and slick, grinning at Lance as the water beats down on his back, dripping off his eyelashes, while his hands-
“Lance, man, don’t do that,” Joey says hastily, laughing at him. “I can practically see what you’re thinking, and I don’t need the visual.”
“What?” Lance blinks and brings his attention back to the subject at hand. “Oh, right. I’m not a girl. So what the hell is he doing, opening doors for me and handing me things all politely and smiling at me like he’s high on crack or something?”
Joey shrugs. “I don’t know.” He looks pointedly at Lance. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you fucking ask him?”
Obviously, Joey’s not going to be of any real help here. Lance should have known better than to think be would be.
Ask him? Just walk right up to Justin and ask him what’s going on, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking? Like, a confrontation?
As ideas go, it’s probably not the worst one Joey’s ever had, Lance has to admit.
~~~~~
For two days after the TRL misunderstanding, Justin is beyond hurt, he’s livid, fuming on the phone to his mother, ranting about Lance, about what an asshole he is, and what was he, Justin, thinking, trying to start over again with someone who’s that big of an idiot. His mother listens, murmuring soothing sounds into the phone, letting him bitch, being properly supportive, right up until the minute she says, “Justin, honey, just shut up.”
Justin is actually shocked into shutting up, and his mother laughs at him until he says, “Hey, no fair, quit it.”
“Sweetie, does Lance have any idea what’s going on in your head? Does he know what you want? Or is he supposed to guess, just because you wrote him a nice song?” Lynn asks, with a hint of asperity.
Justin opens his mouth to protest, but realizes he really doesn’t have a good answer for that. “Well, I was hoping…”
“You were hoping he’d guess, yes, I know. Justin, you made a decision a long time ago,” and now her voice is quietly serious. “You made a decision to walk away and not look back. And you’ve stuck to that all these years, even when Lance tried to get you to change your mind.”
“I know,” Justin answers quietly.
“And now that you have changed your mind, you expect him to just know it?”
“I-“
"Yes, I know, you were hoping,” his mother says wryly, and Justin laughs a little. Her next question is the kicker, though. That’s his mom, never pulling any punches. “Are you afraid he’ll say no?”
Well, of course he is. It’s what he’s been afraid of this whole time. It’s the reason he hasn’t really talked to Lance, not about anything important, since this reunion thing began. Because as long as he’s just there, trying to get Lance to give them another chance based on Justin’s mere presence, he won’t have to know for sure if he fails.
“Justin.” His mother’s voice is kind, but implacable. “Talk to him. It’s time. Like your grandpa always said, shit or get off the pot.” She doesn’t add and stop complaining about it, but she doesn’t really have to.
Justin laughs reluctantly. “Okay, I will. You’re right. Seriously, I will.”
But he doesn’t have to do it right this second. Lance is too upset right now, anyway. In spite of his mother’s criticism of his chosen method of courtship, Justin knows Lance was considering the possibilities, and now he feels guilty for reverting to form and thinking the worst of Justin.
Lynn’s right, though. He owes it to Lance to be clear and honest about things.
He’s threatened Chris with dire consequences if he makes Lance feel any worse than he already does, and enlisted JC for enforcement purposes. He smiles at Lance whenever he can, letting him know there’s no hard feelings.
Lance looks more confused than relieved by that, though, and Justin thinks maybe it’s time to follow his mother’s advice.
~~~~~
Justin wasn’t stupid, nor was he as computer illiterate as some people thought he was. He knew perfectly well that he needed to be upbeat and happy for this Challenge, participating in everything like he was thrilled to be here. He wasn’t, of course, but that was more because of his issues with the CFTC organization than anything else. That, and being afraid of meeting up with Chris’s mom some night in a dark bowling alley.
He was almost relieved that Cameron couldn’t get away from LA to come to Chicago with him. Good PR dictated that he be there as a member of NSYNC, not as one-half of JustinandCameron, paparazzi magnet. Especially, he thought sourly, as he eyed the completely inadequate bank of elevators, in this particular hotel.
JC had floated the idea of singing the National Anthem again this year, but it had only been three months since Justin’s throat surgery, so he had to tell them that his voice wasn’t bouncing back as quickly as he would have liked. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, because he didn’t like talking about it. As soon as he mentioned it though, JC backed off, and they all agreed bowling and basketball was enough.
“No, no, that’s fine, J. I didn’t know, I mean, I thought-oh, hell, I’m sorry, it’s just-” JC ran his hand through his hair, looking upset.
“C, it’s fine,” Justin said, rescuing JC from the morass of half-sentences he was trapped in. “I’m sure it’ll get better. I just have to be patient, and that’s, you know, a bit of a challenge for me,” he finished, grimacing.
They all murmured sympathetically, and then they didn’t bring it up again, for which he was grateful.
Once the weekend was underway, Lance was the only one who mentioned it again.
Justin ran into Diane on one of the impossible elevators. He had just decided that there was no way he was going to spend the entire time he was here fucking around with these things, and when he got up to his room he was going send his security to talk to whoever was in charge and make arrangements for him to use the service elevators.
“Hey, sweetie,” Diane said, and she looked delighted to see him as she kissed him warmly on the cheek and gave him a big hug.
“Hi, Diane,” Justin grinned. They chatted and caught up on family news while the elevator creaked it’s way upwards, opening at every floor. Justin’s security waved the people crowded around the doors away, and Justin could hear them all groaning about having to wait for another elevator.
“If we do this again next year, I’m not staying in the hotel unless it has decent elevators,” Justin said darkly.
“If?” Diane said, raising her eyebrows in that way she and Lance both had. Justin looked away under her scrutiny.
“Well,” he shrugged. “You know.” Diane studied him a moment longer, then nodded.
“I know.” The elevator doors slid open and Diane said, “Oh, this is me. I’ll see you later, J.” She kissed him again, and stepped off the elevator into the hallway, where Lance was waiting for her. He frowned when he saw who she was with. The doors slid closed again, cutting off Justin’s view of Lance’s stormy face.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad weekend. The best part was Chris and Joey. Justin hadn’t had so much fun with them in, well, in a long time. He’d been hearing some worrisome things about Chris, but he seemed fine to Justin.
Justin had an early flight out Sunday morning, and Saturday night he was actually back at the hotel by midnight.
He was asleep, or at least he thought he was, but he couldn’t figure out what that aggravating pounding noise was. It wasn’t his head, because he hadn’t had that much to drink.
Someone was at the door.
He opened one eye and peered at the clock. Three o’clock in the morning. Who the fuck was out in the corridor banging on his door at three o’clock in the morning? His security had been doing a pretty good job of keeping the fans away from his room, but he still wasn’t getting up to see who it was.
“Justin. Justin, come on, open up.” It was Lance.
He didn’t have to open the door. Lance didn’t even know if Justin was in there or not. Justin could just ignore him until he went away.
Or Lance could make a lot more noise and everyone on the floor could wonder why Lance was out in the hallway banging on Justin’s door at three in the morning, and then they could wonder why Justin made him stay out there.
He got out of bed and groped his way to the door in the dark. He opened it an inch and said, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Let me in, Justin.” It was halfway between a plea and demand, and oh shit, Lance wasn’t drunk. He was a lot easier for Justin to handle when he was.
Against his better judgment, Justin opened the door and let Lance in. Like a vampire, Justin thought. He’d invited him in, so he couldn’t really protest whatever happened after that.
~~~~~
They meet in the hallway, each one on their way to see the other, both of them striding along the hotel corridor with determination. They stop in the middle, staring uncertainly at one another.
“Oh,” Lance says, not sure what to do. “I was, um,” he waves in the direction of Justin’s room. “Just, uh, coming to see you,” he finishes lamely.
“Oh yeah?” Justin says. “Well, I was coming to see you.”
They seem to have reached an impasse. Lance sees Justin’s lips twitch a little and he smiles to himself and says, “Well, come on then. Might as well go to my room,” and he leads the way back down the hall, keys his door open, and ushers Justin inside.
Again, they stand there, regarding each other with wary amusement.
“Listen, Lance, I really think we need to clear up-” Justin starts, while at the same time, Lance says, “Justin, you know I’m not a girl, right?”
“What?” Justin says, scrunching his face up in confusion. He looks kind of cute like that, Lance thinks.
“Stop holding doors open for me. What’s next, flowers?”
Justin colors at that, but he recovers nicely and demands, “Are you on crack?”
“No, but it might not be a bad idea,” Lance says, rubbing his forehead. “Look, this is all making me crazy. You’re making me crazy. What the hell is going on?”
“I always did make you crazy, didn’t I?” Justin grins at him. Lance feigns a scowl back.
“Yes. And not always in a good way.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Start talking.”
Justin sighs. “Can we sit down, at least?”
There’s only one chair in the room, so Lance gestures to Justin to take it, then parks himself on the edge of the bed. “Quit stalling.”
“I’m not!” Then Justin takes a deep breath, blows it out, and takes another one, seemingly fascinated by his shoes. Lance recognizes his standard relaxation breathing technique, and knows he won’t get any answers until Justin’s breathed in and out at least five times.
He waits.
“Here’s the thing. I think I miss you.”
Lance waits some more.
Justin still hasn’t looked up from his shoes, which Lance has to admit are very cool, but not quite as interesting as Justin seems to think they are.
When he realizes there’s nothing more coming, he snaps. “That’s it? You think you miss me? What the fuck, Justin?”
The tips of Justin’s ears, which are pretty much all Lance can see, are pink. At last he looks up and nods sheepishly. “I miss you. I want to, you know, kiss you. I see you and that’s all I can think about, touching you.” He looks at Lance, his eyes clear and bright. “I miss touching you.”
Lance is completely undone by this, this straightforward, uncomplicated declaration. He misses touching Justin, too.
“You know it’s not that simple,” he says.
“Why not?” Justin whispers.
“We’ve already tried that. It didn’t work.” Lance looks away, because if he keeps looking at Justin, he’ll agree to anything, and that would just be stupid.
Justin seems to deflate a bit at that, and he doesn’t say anything else. They sit in silence until Lance can’t take it anymore.
“Here’s the deal, Justin. You can take it or leave it.” He throws the words out like a gauntlet. “We have to talk. We have a hell of a lot of issues, don’t you think?” Justin looks at him, wide-eyed, and nods. “Okay. We can’t just pretend like the last eight years didn’t happen.” Lance waves his hands around like he’s dispensing with those years and all that’s happened between them, but he knows he can’t.
“Lance-”
“Shut up a minute.” Justin frowns at him, and Lance can’t help but grin at him a little. “I’m serious here. I am. But, Justin.” He gets up and crosses the room, standing in front of Justin, gazing down at him. “Justin.” He kneels, and now they’re face-to-face, and he focuses, gravely meeting Justin’s eyes. “I’m not saying no. And we can still do this.” He leans forward, and Justin meets him halfway, and this time it’s not tentative at all, this time it’s like coming home, like finally breathing again after being too long underwater, and Lance closes his eyes and gives himself up to it.
The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough, but Lance makes himself pull away. He puts his hands on Justin’s shoulders and gently pushes him back against the uncomfortable desk chair. He wonders for a fleeting moment why his hotel room is so crappy that it only has one hard-backed chair, and then he forgets all about it when he sees Justin’s face. He used to be able to make Justin look like that all the time.
“We have to take it slow, Justin. You know that.”
“We’ve been doing this for almost a year, Lance,” Justin protests with a grin. “How much slower do you want to take it?”
Lance kisses Justin quickly and stands up. “Don’t be a smartass. You know what I mean. There are things to talk about.”
“I love you,” Justin says simply. And Lance never thought he’d hear those words again, not from Justin, and they’re almost enough.
~~~~~
Lance spit the words out like a challenge.
“When was the last time you got fucked?”
Justin’s head shot up and he glared at Lance. “None of your fucking business.”
“Well, I think it’s been a while. I don’t think you’ve let anybody fuck you since the last time I did it,” Lance said, advancing slowly on Justin.
That was true. Justin decided girls were safer and easier after he and Lance ended. Sometimes he missed it, missed the feel of stubble, or the slick glide of a dick in his mouth, or his ass, but most of the time he worked very hard to forget he was bi.
But what he really missed was Lance, and now Lance was right there, right there in front of him, offering, and it was an offer, because under the angry façade, Justin could see what Lance really wanted. He wanted to make Justin change his mind.
He wasn’t going to, and Justin should say so, should make Lance leave, go back to his own room, so Justin could get safely out of Chicago without doing this.
Instead, he grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled him into his arms, his mouth coming down on Lance’s in a kiss so hard that Justin tasted blood. He had no idea whose it was.
They fought over the kiss, each one trying to get the best of the other. Lance bit Justin’s lower lip sharply, and Justin tightened his grip on Lance’s wrist, twisting just a little. Lance grunted and pressed his hips into Justin’s. Justin let go of Lance’s arm and took hold of his hips, pulling him closer still.
Lance worked his knee between Justin’s legs and pushed his thigh up, pressing hard and heavy against Justin, and a groan caught in Justin’s throat. Walking them backwards to the bed, Lance pulled Justin’s sleep pants down over his hips to his knees, breaking their kiss just long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head. He pushed Justin onto the bed, and yanked his pants completely off. He glared fiercely down at Justin as he hastily unzipped his jeans with shaking hands. Justin stared stonily back, then deliberately turned over onto his stomach. He might let Lance fuck him, but he wasn’t going to look at him while he did it.
Justin heard Lance go still for a moment, and then he heard the rustling sound of the rest of Lance’s clothes coming off. He listened to Lance searching roughly around in the bathroom, looking for supplies. He trusted Lance to find what he needed.
Then Lance was behind him, warm and close, and Justin felt two slippery fingers slide into his ass. God, it had been so long. It hurt, but Justin didn’t care. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.
Lance fucked him carefully, slowly, and Justin never wanted him to stop.
But of course it couldn’t last forever. Nothing ever did. For a moment, after, they lay there, Lance pressing small kisses between Justin’s shoulders, Justin struggling to catch his breath, and it was almost like the last four years had never happened.
“Justin,” Lance said, and it was all there in that one word, everything Lance wanted. And part of Justin wanted it, too, but he couldn’t. There was too much to lose. Lance was too close to being out, and Justin wouldn’t do that. What if his voice was permanently fucked up and he had to depend on acting, instead of music? He wouldn’t risk it.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No.”
Lance didn’t say anything else. He rested his cheek on Justin’s back for another minute, kissed him tenderly one more time on the point of his shoulder blade, and then Justin felt the mattress shift as he got up. He dressed quietly, and went to the door. Justin didn’t watch.
Right before Lance closed the door behind him, he said softly, “I hope your voice gets better, Justin.”
~~~~~
challenge: a: to confront or defy boldly b: to invite into competition c: a stimulating task or problem d: to call out to duel or combat
