Thanks to [Merry] for the beta.

Box
By: Rhys

Joey was just happy he hadn’t had Brianna with him. That’s what he kept thinking, his cheek pressed to the rough carpet of the back of a van, the wheels turning underneath him. There was a boot jammed on his other cheek, forcing him to stay still, and he kept thinking, "thank god this wasn’t my week, thank god I didn’t have her, thank god, thank god, thank god." All Joey could do was think. There was tape over his eyes and his mouth, around his wrists and his ankles, and cotton pressed to his ears so he couldn’t hear more than muffled conversation.

He was so fucking scared; Joey was man enough to admit that. He was so scared that if he hadn’t taken a piss five minutes before they grabbed him, he would have pissed all over the van, all over their shoes. If he could have he would have made them feel like garbage instead of him feeling the same way. Fuck them, and their unfair strength in numbers. Joey could have taken a single guy, no problems.

The more Joey thought about it, the more pissed off Joey got. Of all the fucking things to happen to him, of all the goddamned unlucky things to happen to him, it had to be this. Him, the wimpy guy who had only been able to watch the Silence of the Lambs once all the way through because it had given him nightmares for a week after, and Lance was still apologising for suggesting it. The klutzy guy who’d nearly taken his own head off because he didn’t bother to read the goddamned instructions about that fucking awful stage for the PopOdyssey Tour.

They were going to fucking kill him, and make a suit out of his fat ass, and probably eat him or drop him in an alligator-filled swamp or mail his eyeballs to his grandma. What a fucking way to go. What a fucking shitty way to exit this goddamned world. All Joey wanted was to die nobly, to save some kids from a burning building or take a bullet for one of the guys or trade his life so that Brianna could live. And this was what he got, kidnapping and the inevitable torture to follow. They were so gonna torture him. Joey had seen the Silence of the Lambs.

The next time Joey wanted twinkies at two in the morning, he was going to stay home.

Fuck.

~~~

Joey was still pissed however later it was that some guy fell on him, getting him right in the ribs with his elbow. Joey kicked at him, but there wasn’t much room, so Joey just ended up wiggling around like a helpless worm. Which was what he was, god dammit. Life fucking sucked so hard. Joey was still simmering when he realised the body was still there. Shit. Well, at least he wasn’t alone, though he pitied the poor bastard beside him for being in this same stupid mess.

Something heavy settled over them, and Joey thought it must be a carpet from the rasp of fabric against his temple. Immediately, it was hotter than hell underneath it, and it became even harder to breathe, stuffy and stale. Joey wished he’d had the foresight to blow his nose.

His buddy in torture was awake; Joey could feel him struggling. It didn’t last long before the guy gave up. Joey was completely disoriented, and they’d bound his wrists, so the best he could do was lie on his side and wriggle slowly backwards. Joey inched closer to him, wiggling his fingers as if his fingers would lead the way. When he finally found the guy’s hand, Joey hooked his index finger around the guy’s thumb. The guy stilled for a second then moved closer to him, and they lay like that for days, it seemed, before the rumble under them finally stilled.

Goodbye life, Joey thought miserably. It’d been a good one.

~~~

They dragged him across the ground, two guys griping him beneath the pits, and fuck, it hurt. It definitely looked cooler in the movies. Sand and dust kicked up at Joey’s naked legs, and the burn of the sun was hot on his skin. Joey still didn’t know where he was, but it didn’t feel like Orlando. He didn’t remember a plane, so Arizona, maybe, or Nevada.

They left him in a room. Well, left was the nice way of saying it. They threw him into a room, and he hit his head on the wall, and they kneed him in the back as they cut through the tape around his wrists, and then they left him there. Joey was definitely back to being scared.

It took forever and a fucking day to pull the tape off his eyes. He’d have no eyelashes left after this, and probably no eyebrows, and shit, it hurt so goddamn much. Screw scared, Joey was pissed again. This was probably part one of the torture. They were probably having a good laugh.

Finally, the tape was off, and Joey opened his eyes to see another guy pressed into the corner, not even bothering with the tape, just curled into a ball. There was a tiny window that let light in, dim rays of sunshine that the dust danced in. It was a little beautiful, and a lot terrible. Too small for anyone to fit through, especially not his fucking fat ass. Fucking twinkies.

There was a sink and a silver bucket, and nothing else, except him and the quiet guy hidden in the shadows. Without bothering with his ankles, Joey dragged himself over to the guy and took his hand. He pulled back fast, but Joey just rubbed at his fingers until he calmed. It was then that he noticed the ring, and Joey would know that ring anywhere. He’d bought it.

Without thinking about how much it’d fucking kill, Joey tore off the tape over his mouth and took half his beard with it. Through the sting in his face, Joey said, "Lance," loudly, right in Lance’s ear. Lance lifted his head sharply, and they smacked foreheads so fucking hard that Joey saw stars. Joey pulled the tape from Lance’s mouth.

Lance said something, moving his head frantically around, but Joey still had the cotton over his ears. He pulled that off too, and it was the most painless thing he’d done in the last however long it’d been, even if he nearly lost an earlobe and an earring to the sticky tape.

"Joey? Joey?"

Lance was breathing too hard, absolutely scared shitless. Carefully, Joey pulled the cotton from his ears before Lance exploded in terror, even though Joey wouldn’t blame him if he did.

"It’s me, man. Shit." Joey grabbed him into the biggest hug he could muster. He fucking loved Lance to pieces right then, even if a smaller part was thinking that Lance was the last guy he’d wanted to see. Poor Lance, poor him. "Can I take the tape off your eyes?"

"I guess," Lance said, sounding reluctant. "It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?"

"Like getting kicked in the balls," Joey promised, then set to work. He tried to save as many of Lance’s eyelashes as he could. Lance kept his hands twisted in Joey’s shirt, not crying or any such shit. Joey was fine so long as Lance didn’t cry. Like, Lance hadn’t cried when Joey’s leg had been mauled. It was good that he hadn’t, or Joey would have realised how bad it really was and freaked the fuck out instead of swearing a lot and marvelling at all the fat oozing out.

When Joey was done, he only hoped Lance’s eyebrows would grow back someday. Lance didn’t have any left, but his eyelashes were all right, a little patchy, but he didn’t look too strange. Joey soothingly rubbed his thumb over where Lance’s eyebrows used to be. Lance smiled, but he didn’t say anything. Joey didn’t blame him. There wasn’t much to say, really.

~~~

Joey held his tongue for as long as he could. He knew Lance liked to be quiet when he was scared, but Joey liked to talk, and he liked to talk a lot. It had to have been at least an hour, at least, and Joey really wished he’d just put on his damn watch when he’d left. Lance had a watch on, but Joey couldn’t see the time, and his lips were itching with needing to say something.

"Do you think they’re gonna torture us to death then make a suit with our skin?" Joey asked.

"My fucking good god, Joey! Don’t you have any tact? Jesus Christ," Lance muttered, slapping Joey hard on the thigh, but he didn’t take his hand away, just smoothed it over Joey’s jeans as he kept grumbling, saying shit like, "fucking moron," and "torture, fucking torture."

Joey had the good grace to look a little apologetic about asking it. It was the first thing that had come to mind, and it was the worst possible thing he could have said, but Lance was used to that, best friends and all. Half the stuff they said to each other was stupid beyond belief.

"I’m so sorry I ever let you watch the Silence of the Lambs, Joey," Lance said once he’d calmed down a little. He slapped at Joey’s knees a couple more times, though. "I think if they were going to, they’d be doing it already. This must be a money thing. Why else grab two of us?"

"It’s a kidnapping, then?"

"I guess. I’ve only seen this in the movies. This doesn’t happen to me everyday, Joey."

"What were you doing when, you know?"

Lance sighed. "I had this sudden overwhelming urge for nachos and cheese. They grabbed me when I was just getting to the 7-11. I’m irrationally angry that I didn’t get to eat them, you know? All I wanted was a damn nacho with some cheese. Is that too much to ask?"

"I was getting twinkies from Wal-mart," Joey admitted.

"This sucks," Lance said, "this is so fucking lame. Who gets kidnapped these days?"

"Us, I guess." Joey shrugged. "Figures. Wouldn’t it figure? We have bad luck."

"You have worse luck than I do," Lance said.

"I’d like to argue that point," Joey said.

So he did.

~~~

They couldn’t fight forever, and they reached a stalemate a lot sooner than Joey would have liked. They were obviously both cursed, Joey in a painfully physical way and Lance more in a traumatically emotional way. Lance was still wearing the battle wounds of On The Line, while My Big Fat Greek Wedding had redeemed Joey on the big screen. And while Lance’s heart had sucked and put him into the hospital once, Joey had been in the hospital seven times, not including the leg, which was deeply scarred. They both agreed to never leave the house again.

"I guess it’s been a day, huh?" Joey asked when the room was dark, the sun long gone from the tiny window. It was getting a little chilly, which was almost an improvement over the stifling heat of the day, but not entirely. They had soaked their shirts through with sweat. Now, as it cooled, they were both shivering, huddled together in the corner. "That wasn’t too bad."

"It could’ve been worse," Lance agreed. His breath was warm on Joey’s icy skin.

"You think everyone knows we’re gone by now? They must," Joey said. "I mean, I parked illegally, so they might’ve towed my car, but they’ll notice your car at the 7-11, right?"

"I walked," Lance said, exhaling a sharp breath. "Even though everyone and my mom has told me to stop walking everywhere by myself, especially at night, but fuck, it’s two blocks away. I thought it’d be fine, and now suddenly I’m in this ridiculous situation, and fuck."

"Somebody’s gotta notice eventually. And hey, if it’s a kidnapping, ransom notes, right? I wonder who got it. I hope not my parents, or yours. And not Chris, because he’d hire a bounty hunter, and Justin’s got too much security. Probably C, poor fucking guy. I hope he’s okay."

Lance laughed and put his head down on Joey’s shoulder. "You hope he’s okay. We’re the ones cooking in a box during the day and freezing in a cellar at night. You’re something else, Joey. Jesus." Lance sounded half fond, half pissed off, so Joey kissed his head a little.

When Lance smiled against his neck, Joey smiled back into the overwhelming darkness.

~~~

They got food the next morning: a stack of wrapped peanut butter sandwiches. They had to kneel in the corner, eyes closed and heads down, before the guys stopped yelling about killing them if they even dared to look and just gave them the damn food. Joey held Lance’s hand until it was slick with his sweat as they cowered fearfully in the corner. Joey did not like those guys.

They split a sandwich. Joey could barely chew his mouth was so dry, so he crawled over to the sink and turned it on, trying to see if the water was clean enough to drink. It didn’t matter if it was or not. Joey was dizzy with dehydration. They’d already taken off their shirts to cool down, but it was like being cooked alive. The water was cool in his throat as he shovelled it into his mouth with the curve of his palm. When Lance crawled up, Joey moved to let him drink, too.

"I thought they were going to starve us," Lance said in a slightly dazed voice, later, when their barely full bellies were still creaking with hunger pains. They were both eyeing the rest of the sandwiches. There were five left. "I honestly thought they weren’t going to give us food."

"They need us alive for the money," Joey said quietly. "Right?"

"Right, the money." Lance swallowed loudly and nodded. "The money’ll keep us alive."

"Don’t talk like that, man," Joey said, feeling helplessly useless. He grabbed Lance’s hand and held it even though it was almost too hot to stand it. They inched closer together, torsos dripping rivers of sweat, and Joey could hardly breathe, it was so fucking hot. "We’re fine."

"We are," Lance agreed. "We’re good. We’re alive. We’re fed. We’re together."

"We’re together," Joey repeated, and held onto Lance’s hand a little bit tighter.

~~~

When they didn’t get sick, they drank more of the water, wiggling their tongues under the refreshing flow of the tap. Only when their bellies were bloated did they sit back, spaced a foot apart, backs against the not-quite-as-hot wall. Between them, they kept their fingertips touching. It made Joey feel better, knowing Lance was so close, knowing he was there.

Joey had to piss first, which figured. They had tried road-tripping before, but Joey made them stop so often to pee that Lance swore he’d never do it again. Lance’s memory only lasted six months, so they always ended up trying at a later date. Lance had often suggested Depends.

They were under some strange unspoken agreement that pissing into the sink was fine, but everything else was for the pail. What happened after, Joey didn’t even want to think about. They already stunk, the both of them, their deodorant long gone. Adding in everything else, Joey didn’t even want to think about it. Stress normally had a terrible effect on his body, but Joey finally had some luck in his corner. Kidnapping, it seemed, made him constipated.

The problem was that whenever Joey tried to pee, Lance giggled, and that made his bladder shy. Joey stood there for a while, dick hanging over the edge of the sink, trying to force himself to go, but Lance was making strange squeaking noises, and Joey couldn’t seem to do it.

"Dude, you gotta stop with the girlish giggling," Joey finally said, clenching his ass cheeks. In an attempt to cool down, he had shoved his jeans to his knees, so maybe that was why Lance was so amused, but Joey didn’t think so. Even Lance wasn’t that shallow, even if it sometimes felt like it, but that was a whole ‘nother ballpark right there, and Joey wasn’t willing to step foot into that game. "I can’t go unless you shut up. You’re making me nervous."

"I’ll be quiet," Lance said, clamping his hands over his mouth and mumbling, "promise."

Lance was quiet until Joey finally let loose, and then Lance was laughing, full and loud, l ike Joey’s dad always did with the belly-centred guffaws. Lance laughed so hard that he started snorting, and that always, without fail, set Joey off. Joey could barely finish without soaking his feet, he was shaking so hard with laughter. He wagged himself dry then sat next to Lance, punching him hard in the shoulder.

"Bonehead," Joey said, "you total meathead. What is wrong with you?"

"I don’t know," Lance said, clutching his stomach, red in the face. "But I’m going to cry if I stop, Joey, so I’m not going to, okay?" Lance folded himself to his knees, and giggled insanely, stamping one foot on the ground. After a pause, Joey joined in. He felt much better.

~~~

"Favourite theme song from a Bond film," Lance said, his head rolled back against the wall. It was getting dark again, so the room was cooling down, but not fast enough. They had both soaked their jeans with sweat, but they were afraid of bugs and refused to take them off. Last thing Joey needed was a big and creepy desert insect making its happy home in his ass.

"A View to a Kill, Duran Duran," Joey said. "I love that one. You?"

"Tina Turner and Goldeneye." Lance wiped a hand across his chest and flung the sweat from his golden skin. Joey tried not to stare at his tight nipples or the swell of his muscles, but it was hard, and he wanted to memorise all of Lance before the darkness swallowed him again.

"Favourite sexy scene, any movie," Joey said, staring at the wall.

"Ghost. When Demi Moore is spinning clay, and Patrick Swayze comes up behind her, and Unchained Melody is playing. In that moment, I can almost forgive Patrick Swayze for not being with me. I tried that once, you know, with Lukas, the clay thing. It wasn’t nearly as hot."

"Never is," Joey murmured. "Mine’s that scene in Top Gun, when Tom and Whatshername finally get together, and Take My Breath Away is playing. And fuck, that guy is hot. I don’t care if he’s a prick. That stomach makes it all better, you know?"

"Sing it, brother." Lance briefly waved his hands through the air before setting them down, limp at his sides. Sweat beaded on his throat. "Favourite romantic scene, any movie."

"When Leia goes to Tatooine to get Han out of the carbonite. I mean, guy’s blind as a bat, and has been out for god knows how long, and she holds him, and they have that moment before Jabba ruins it all. That takes love, man, risking Jabba’s wrath," Joey said, yawning. "You?"

Lance’s grin sliced through the creeping shadows. "You’re going to laugh."

"And you haven’t laughed at me, like, every time I’ve tried to pee? Fuck off. Tell me."

"Okay, but just because I owe you. That scene in Romeo and Juliet, when they’re looking through the fish tank? And they see each other, and it’s right there, everything they’re going to be together, and they just know they’re meant for each other. That’s got to be a great feeling. I want that," Lance said.

"That’s a good one," Joey agreed sleepily. "Favourite Jim Hensen film."

"Labyrinth," Lance replied, without hesitation. "David Bowie is hot in that one. You?"

Joey let his eyes close, barely able to stay upright. "Dark Crystal, man, all the way."

~~~

Day three, and Joey felt his spirits starting to sag. It wasn’t a great situation by any stretch of the imagination, but he hadn’t felt truly terrified since those first few hours in the van. Now, it was back, racing through his blood every time he let his mind stray. He tried to calm down before it made him sick.

When the sun was highest and the room was a total oven, Lance started scratching lines on the wall with the clasp of his watch. At three lines, he stopped and sat back. "So we don’t lose track," Lance said, even though Joey didn’t ask. "I’ve heard that can happen after a long time."

Joey’s intestines cramped at that, and he leaned forward, rubbing his belly.

"Are you not feeling good?" Lance asked, putting his hand on Joey’s bare back.

"No," Joey admitted. He rolled his fingers into fists and clenched harder, fighting it.

"No embarrassment, all right? For either of us. They’re not allowing us much pride," Lance said softly. He put his mouth on Joey’s shoulder and breathed a storm onto Joey’s skin. "It’s me, you know? If nothing else, it’s just me."

"I’m glad you’re here," Joey said. The minute he let it out, tears rushed to line his eyes. He pressed them tightly shut, fighting against the flood. He’d learned to do it in Germany, when they were being pushed to the breaking point, when they never thought they’d make it. There had been times that being Nsync had sucked beyond words, and Joey had never let himself break.

"I didn’t want to be the first one to say it," Lance replied, "but I’m glad you’re here, too."

There was a brief moment when Joey thought they were going to kiss. Every cell in his body seemed ready for it, electrified and humming, but it didn’t happen. It never happened. Joey really had the worst luck in the world.

~~~

On the fourth day, they got more sandwiches, so they pigged out on the ones they’d been hoarding before they went mouldy and gross. They took turns at the sink, dousing themselves with water and drinking a lot. Joey spent an hour at the window, looking out into the desert, nearly blinded by the bright glare of the sun. He didn’t stop, though. Outside was freedom.

"A million bucks says we’re in Arizona," Joey said.

"A million bucks says we’re in Nevada," Lance replied, lying on his back in the middle of the room, stripped down to his underwear and nothing else. Even his watch was off, quietly ticking in the corner. "If we have a million bucks left. How much do you think they want?"

"More than a million, I hope." Joey stuck his arm out of the window and waved it around. It was eerily quiet outside. Joey had begun to suspect that they were being left alone, that their kidnappers weren’t even watching them. The door was armoured with ten heavy locks.

"I’d ask for ten million," Lance said, stretching his arms over his head. His belly almost hollowed, sweat collecting in the cup of his bellybutton. Joey wanted to put his mouth to it and drink, to taste the salt of Lance’s skin. He’d wanted to do that for a long time. Just now ... more.

"For two us? Maybe ten million each. Or fifteen million. Buy one, get the other one half price. What they should have done was grab J or C. They’re worth more, you know, due to publishing rights. Chris even has more, I think, that financial advisor of his." Joey pulled his arm out of the blistering sun and ducked his face under the tap, wetting it, drinking. "I just hope there’s enough left for Brianna, that she can go to college. A nice one, like Harvard or Yale."

"She’s pretty smart," Lance mumbled. "I have some money set aside for that, too."

"No shit," Joey said, lying down so he was next to Lance but not touching him. When Lance rolled his head and met Joey’s eyes, Joey smiled. "I didn’t know that, man. Thanks." Joey closed his eyes. "I’d like enough leftover that Kel and Jen are set for life, that Bri’s cared for."

"I have money set aside for that, too. My mom knows all about it. It’s in my will."

"Dude," Joey said. He groped clumsily for Lance’s hand. "Thank you."

"Hey, I’m her godfather," Lance said, smiling, but it was a sad smile, Joey noticed. Lance looked like Joey felt, the ache in his chest, the burn in his eyes. Gently, Joey squeezed Lance’s fingers until Lance squeezed back, their damp skin sliding together. "She’ll be fine."

Joey felt his muscles relax, turning to jelly in the heat. It was fine. Everything was fine.

~~~

If Lance hadn’t been marking off the days, Joey wouldn’t have known they’d been there for more than a week. It didn’t feel like that long. In some ways, it felt like much longer. In others, it felt like time had barely passed at all. What was going on out there, Joey wondered. How many ransom notes had been sent, how many times had his parents cried, how many more days left?

Joey had thought he knew everything about Lance, and he mostly did, but he learned a couple things when they talked. It came in spurts. For half the day, they’d say nothing at all, then for hours, they’d talk about whatever came into their heads. Sometimes, Lance washed their underwear in the sink then hung them out the window to dry in the sun. The whole room stank.

"The dilemma," Lance said, tapping his finger on his stubbly chin, "is this: do we risk backwash to toss this literal crap," Lance bumped the pail with his toe, "out the window?"

"I vote yes," Joey said. They’d been hoping their kidnappers would come back sooner than later, but they were having no luck in that department. The sandwiches would hold them out for another few days, but the filth of the room was bordering putrid. "We’re gonna get sick."

"Okay. Add more water, and I’ll figure out the physics of it."

Lance was already running his hands over the window edge like he was measuring it and fitting the numbers into some terribly complex physics thingamajig. Joey had always admired Lance’s mathematical skill. In school, Joey had only ever been good at music, drama and lunch.

It mostly worked, thank god. Lance tidied up with one of his socks then rinsed the sock out in the sink. Joey slithered down the wall in mild relief and lay there, hand over his racing heart. Joey had never been so glad in his life that Lance was one of those boneheads who wore socks with his sandals like a total and complete tool.

Fucking Lance.

~~~

"Nobody likes Luke, man," Joey said, lying naked on the ground. Everything was sweating, his pits, his balls, his temples. Keeping still meant keeping the slightest bit cooler. They had soaked their shirts with water and had them covering whatever overheated body part needed it the most. Currently, Joey had his shirt over his face, trying to breathe.

"I like Luke," Lance said, even more firmly this time. His shirt was draped over his cock. "It’s so cliche to like Han the best, Joey. I mean, admittedly hot, yes, but Luke wasn’t an eyesore. I repeat my answer: I thought Luke was the hottest. I’m sorry. That’s just the way it is."

Joey grunted. "But Luke was a whiny idiot, man."

"So?" Even though Joey couldn’t see it, he knew Lance was rolling his eyes. He had that you-are-a-moron tone to his voice. "When a guy’s sucking on your cock, do you really care if he’s got a sparkling personality or not? I mean, it’s a nice bonus, but just so long as the guy knows what he’s doing, I don’t give a damn if he’s the biggest whiny idiot in the world."

"You have a point," Joey admitted, "but Han would definitely be better at head."

Lance snorted. "As if he would be. Cock is the last thing on Han’s mind. Gay as we are, can we agree that Leia’s slave girl bikini was hot?" Reluctantly, Joey nodded. "Han is thinking about womanly bits. The best Luke can manage is incest, which makes me think he’s after the dick and is just overcompensating. Does that make sense?"

"Unfortunately, but man, I’d sleep with Chewie over Luke."

"Ugh," Lance said. "That’s sick, Joey. That’s bestiality."

Joey felt himself getting riled up, mostly out of boredom. "He’s humanoid, and he can give consent. It’s not his fault his species is overly hairy. Some of us are just born with a little extra fur, Lance, not all finely fuzzed and blond. At least Chewie has a sense of humour."

"Whatever, you big pervert freak."

"Them’s fighting words, Bass," Joey said menacingly, warring against the shaking laughter in his belly. It was too hot to really wrestle, though Joey wanted the opportunity to stretch his legs. He didn’t mind the idea of wrestling naked with Lance, either. At that thought, Joey moved the shirt from his face to his groin. When Joey looked over, Lance was smiling.

~~~

On the twelfth day, they took Lance. In a storm of shouting and violence, they dragged him out of the room, and Joey was left there, totally fucking alone. He cried some then, mostly out of rage and a little out of the completely overwhelming helplessness he felt. With Lance’s watch, Joey marked another line on the wall. Nearly two weeks. Nearly two fucking weeks.

The only hope Joey clung to was the idea that Lance was being freed. That would make him happy, if Lance could go back to his life and not have to live this bizarre movie script. He could have all the nachos and cheese he wanted. He could look after Brianna, make sure she was all right, make sure she knew all about her father. Joey was glad that Lance had gone home.

But of course he hadn’t really.

At nightfall, they threw Lance back into the room, his face swollen, welts already forming along his back. He whimpered a little when Joey approached him from the opposite corner, but Joey didn’t let that stop him. Gently, he pulled Lance between his legs, snug against his chest.

"Hi," Joey said softly, combing his fingers through Lance’s hair the way Lance liked.

"Hey," Lance replied. He turned his face into Joey’s skin, breath warmly wet where his lips settled. It felt almost like a kiss entirely done for comfort. Joey returned it gladly, moving his mouth over Lance’s sweaty brow, tasting the salt of his flesh. "Did you have a good day?"

"I had the worst fucking day of my life," Joey said.

"Mine sucked, too."

"Looks like it." Joey kissed Lance’s head again.

"I don’t think I really want to talk right now," Lance said quietly, folding his fingers into Joey’s hand, holding them together. When Joey nodded, lips tightly sealed, Lance looked up at him. Even in the almost complete dark, Joey could see the wet glimmer of his eyes, wide and strange in the shadows. Joey looked at them, looked at Lance, and could hardly stand how much he loved him, as a friend, first and foremost, but as that other unspoken thing, too.

"Joey?"

"I thought we weren’t talking," Joey said, his lips dry, his head dizzy. Lance was so warm, so overly hot and shaking, and Joey could feel rage in himself, anger that this had happened to Lance. Screw himself, Joey didn’t care about himself. Joey didn’t give a fuck at all.

"We’re not," Lance whispered and put a damp row of icy fingers on Joey’s neck, pulling him down. Joey went, because Lance asked him, because Lance didn’t need to ask at all. When their mouths met, slickly warm and openly willing, Joey forgot for a long beautiful moment all about the fear, the anger. They kissed until they were breathless, and then they kissed some more.

~~~

The sun rose, and nothing seemed that much better. They held out until noon for a sandwich then they split a half. The reserves were low. Those abusive fuckers hadn’t bothered dropping off more, despite kicking the shit of out Lance. There were bruises now, purple and dark, all over Lance’s skin. Joey spent the morning wetting cloth and draping it over the welts. Lance lay on his back, stripped to his briefs. His fingers stayed on his lips, splayed apart.

"Biggest regret," Lance said.

Joey pinched his lips together. Fatones weren’t much known for regret. Joey had been raised to live each day as it came the best he could. If he made mistakes, he learned from them and didn’t dwell on them. If something shitty happened, he moved on. Joey wondered if he could move on from this, if he had that strength inside him. Probably, he thought, if he lived to try.

"Mine is that I said no to you, when you asked me out on that date. Remember?"

Joey remembered it like he remembered a metal stake in his leg: painfully and vividly. It was four years ago, and Joey hadn’t even known until that moment that Lance had even realised what he was trying to do. Joey didn’t want Lance to feel bad about that, so he shrugged and said,

"Vaguely."

"I should have said yes." Lance put his hands over his face. "Why didn’t I say yes, Joey?"

"I don’t know," Joey said, wringing the excess water from his tee-shirt.

Lance laughed roughly, but it didn’t really sound like laughter. To Joey, it seemed like Lance was crying but couldn’t figure how to get it out. When Lance laughed, it came full and deep from his belly. The noise he was making now, it wasn’t anything Joey knew about Lance.

"I thought they were going to kill me," Lance said, banging his head against the ground, and Joey, without thinking, slipped a hand under his skull to cushion it. "And there were all these things I’d never done, and they all had to do with you. All of them. Every single one."

"Then do them now." Joey curled his fingers into Lance’s hair to keep him there, steady and still. "I’m right here, man. You’re right here. What happened yesterday, it doesn’t change any of that. You could have died, yeah, but you didn’t. That was yesterday."

"And if we don’t make it to tomorrow?"

"Then we have today," Joey said, "and that’s all we need."

~~~

Lance was a bonehead to the nth degree. Joey had learned that pretty early on when Lance’s so-called touch of death became obvious. Joey blamed it on those record company fucks who wanted to kick Lance out of Nsync. Lance took bad shit personally, even though bad shit happened to everyone and there wasn’t anything anybody could do about it. Shit just happened.

"This is so cliche," Lance finally said. "This is so fucking cliche. I finally get the balls to make a move, finally admit that, hey, we should be together, and we’re in this fucking heat box, and Joey, I don’t think we’re getting out. Things are so fucking fucked. Chris got the letter."

"We’ll get out," Joey murmured, lolling his head against the ground. It was so hot.

"We won’t."

Joey brought his fist down on Lance’s stomach just enough to knock the wind out of him, then said pretty loudly in Lance’s ear, "we will, bonehead. Okay? So shut up."

If it wasn’t so hot, Joey would have shouted.

"They beat me up. Made a video of me all banged up so Chris would understand it wasn’t a prank. Isn’t that hilarious?" Lance laughed bitterly again, and Joey could hear his fingernails scrapping over the dirt floor. "And it’s all my fault. He filled my Expedition with jello through the sun roof, and I said to him, I said to watch out, because I was going to come up with the best joke ever, something he’d never ever expect, something that would trump anything he’d ever done, because he was such an asshole. It cost me eight hundred dollars to get that cleaned up."

"What colour was the jello?" Joey asked.

"Red," Lance said miserably, "on grey upholstery."

Joey nodded and closed his eyes. Sweat was flowing into them. "That’s a bitch to get out."

There was a moment of heavy silence between them until finally,

"I’m sorry, Joey. I’m so sorry."

Lance’s voice broke like a pane of glass, and Joey felt his own composure shatter.

"Oh, no, don’t cry," Joey said, already over him, brushing away his tears. Lance tried to fold his legs up, to curl protectively into himself, but Joey wouldn’t let him. When Lance’s left leg lifted again, Joey caught it by the knee. He moved over Lance, holding him flat. "Man, I’m not mad. Okay? Don’t cry. It’s fine. We’ll be fine. Okay? Shh, shh. It’s fine. We’re okay."

"I’m so scared," Lance breathed, arm looped around Joey’s neck, holding their mouths together. Tears flowed, salty smooth, down the curves of Lance’s face to the junction of their lips, spiralling down their tongues into the gasping passages of their throats. Joey wanted to say a million things and said none of them but I love you as they lay there, shaking and terrified.

~~~

By the time night settled, Lance wasn’t feeling better. They had kissed until their lips hurt, parched and split, sharing small rivers of blood between them. Joey was hungry and thirsty, and feeling about a million years old. He looked outside and counted the stars for a while. In time, Lance was swallowed by the dark. When he held his breath, Joey lost him completely.

Joey pulled himself away from the window. It hurt too much. The heat of the day was still floating inside the room, smelly and stale, but it was cooling down. He put his cheek against the wall. His beard sprawled over half his face, woolly and thick, but he could still feel through it.

At least Lance loved him back. There was that. Small consolation in most worlds, but not his. The way Joey worked, the way Joey had always worked, was to focus on one amazing thing. That amazing thing was Lance, his best friend in the whole fucking world, the best guy period.

Joey felt hot tears bead along his eyelids, rushing across the curves like a roller-coaster. Don’t cry, he thought, do not cry. There wasn’t anything terribly wrong. He was still alive, he still had Lance, he still had fresh water. Forget the lack of food, and the suffocating heat, and all that other terrible shit. He still had his life. His heart still beat like a drum inside his chest.

Please don’t cry, Joey thought, rubbing his cheek over the rough concrete wall, it’s fine.

"Favourite Mad Max film," Lance said, finally, his voice like a rope through the night.

"Beyond Thunderdome, even if it’s the worst one." Joey wiped his eyes. "You?"

"I like that one, too."

Joey smiled. Tentatively, he walked in the direction of Lance’s voice. When he tripped over Lance’s feet, Lance caught him before he could do more than smash his nose into the wall. They were close enough to hold hands, so they did. Joey coughed. "Favourite season of Buffy."

"The one where Spike is naked a lot," Lance said, "even if that show sucks beyond mere words, Joey. That is such a trick question. You’re a jerk for even making me pick. You?"

When Joey grinned, his teeth pressed lightly into Lance’s bare shoulder. "I like season three, man. Spike was hot, I’ll give you that much, but there’s no accounting for taste. Season six was weak, man, so weak. You suck. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d vote you off the island."

Lance laughed, full and deep from his belly, and said, "okay, then. Favourite Survivor."

~~~

"Between JC and Justin? Hmm." Lance twisted up his lips as he scratched a finger over his chin. Joey didn’t even know what day they were on anymore, but Lance was sporting a weird patchy thing that almost resembled an actual beard. "And we’re forcing JC to fight?"

"Two men enter, one man leaves. Them’s the rules," Joey said, shrugging. Day fifteen, Joey thought, or fourteen. It didn’t really matter. They woke up that morning, twisted together in the corner, to the kidnappers screaming at them to hide their eyes. At least they had more sandwiches, a bigger stack than they’d ever been given. They’d had none left until that morning.

Lance folded his lower lip inside out before saying, "Justin. He has the size advantage, and he’d gladly use every weapon he could, especially the big sharp ones. JC has no chance."

"And JC so totally wouldn’t fight with any level of enthusiasm. Your turn."

"Justin and Chris," Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest, grinning smugly.

"Christ, Bass. Gotta give me the hard one, don’t you? Okay." Joey scratched over his knees then up his thighs and over his chest, spending a good minute on each of his pits. The problem with being completely filthy was how itchy you got. "I don’t know, man. It might be a stalemate. Like, they off each other at the exact same moment and both go down. They’re like that."

"This is assuming Chris doesn’t kill himself to avoid killing Justin, right?"

"Oh, totally," Joey agreed. If given the chance, Chris would die for any one of them. It was sorta freaky, Joey had always thought, but a little touching, too. "Okay. Chris and me."

"Ooh, that’s a hard one. Give me a minute to think that through."

Lance eyed Joey critically, looking at him so intently that Joey began to feel a little exposed. They were both wearing only their underwear. Both pairs were wet from the waterfalls of sweat gushing down their bodies and nearly see-through because of it. They hadn’t done more than kiss, though Joey wanted it so bad. Lance seemed reluctant, though, so they just didn’t.

"Chris," Lance finally said. "I’m sorry, man, but he’s got that whole anger management issues thing going on, and you’re just ... you. You’d have a long fight in Thunderdome, I totally believe this, but in the end, I have to give it to Chris. It’d be a good show, though, very cool."

"Worth the price of admission?" Joey asked, grinning.

Lance grinned back. "And then some."

~~~

Joey began to notice that at night things seemed to get a little bit darker. Lance seemed to get a little bit darker, a little bit more gloomy. It wasn’t so bad. Joey couldn’t see his face, and Lance’s voice didn’t betray nearly as much as it should have, and Lance never went totally grim.

"Most jealous you’ve ever been of me," Lance said, his voice a creeping shadow in the night. Between them, they held hands, sitting with their backs against the wall. They were stripped to nothing, their underwear folded over the rim of the sink. Their jeans acted as a rug.

"Lance," Joey said. "Don’t make me get into this with you, man. It doesn’t matter."

"Please. It can be a stupid thing. Hell, the more stupid, the better."

Joey sighed. "Okay, fine, but don’t get all pissy about it. I’m jealous of the fact that, like, we seem to be in this cosmic balance of proportions, where neither of us can be insanely hot at the same time. Everything I’ve lost," Joey tried to keep his voice cool and calm because, really, it was dumb, "you’ve gained. As a result, your boyfriends are always infinitely hotter than mine."

"You’re still pretty hot, Joey." Even in the dark, Joey knew Lance was rolling his eyes.

"You said stupid. I gave you stupid. That’s all you’re getting, Bass, because I don’t generally do jealously, except when it comes to hotness. Mind you, I love my gut," in the dark, Joey petted it, but he’d lost weight, and he had to exhale to really feel it, "but it’s still a gut, and in a day and age when twinks and steroid freaks are all the rage, I lose, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. Want to hear mine? It’s also pretty stupid."

"Sure," Joey said.

For a second, Joey thought Lance was going to chicken out. He always did. It was why Truth or Dare had been banned from their bus in the middle of the first leg of the No Strings tour. Lance was a total bastard like that, but not this time. "I’m insanely jealous of your acting skills."

"Oh, jeez," Joey said, but Lance clamped down hard on his hand.

"No. Not about movie-acting, because I know you’re amazing, and I wouldn’t want you to be any less amazing, but. In general every-day acting? Then I’m jealous. I don’t understand why I’m the gay one, and you’re the straight one. I can go to a million playboy parties, god save me, and everybody’s all, ooh, he’s so gay. You, the big drama queen you are, get your picture taken in gay clubs for Pete’s sake, and everybody’s all, ooh, look at him supporting the gay fans."

"That’s not a good thing, dude. Seriously, you don’t want it. I never get laid," Joey said.

"You get laid, Joey. You get laid all the time."

Joey snorted. "Not as often as you, and I gotta work for it. What’s the point being rich and famous if you have to practically beg a guy to go down on you because he can’t believe you’re into cock? You get all these insanely hot guys already down on their knees, mouths open."

"I’d get down on my knees for you," Lance said.

Joey grinned. "Thank you."

~~~

They kissed for hours, Joey thought, until they were all hot and bothered and horny, but still, Lance kept grabbing Joey’s hand whenever he tried to slide every so subtly towards Lance’s dick. Lance was so hard, so hot, but he didn’t seem to want it. Eventually, Joey gave up, and they went to sleep, wearing damp underwear and using their jeans as pillows.

When Joey woke up, his dick was stiff under his briefs, and Lance was already awake, looking at him. Wearily, Joey rubbed his hands over his eyes then stood up on shaky legs, going for his morning piss. Joey counted to ten, slowly, until his hard-on wilted a bit then peed as Lance stood behind him, thumbs stuffed in his ears and fingers over his mouth. He looked like a moron.

"This is so tacky," Joey said when he was done and his cock was back to full-standing, "but I have to jerk off before I wither and die. You can watch, I don’t care, but my balls are killing me, man."

"Me too," Lance said, a little breathlessly. He didn’t stop licking his lips. Joey couldn’t stop staring at him. This was it. This moment meant they were finally going to have sex. Joey had only been waiting about eight years plus the lifetime before that. Joey was so fucking ready.

Joey even got within groping distance before Lance stopped him. "Joey, not me, you."

"You’re giving me a complex, Lance," Joey said. He redirected his hand to Lance’s hip, hooking his thumb into the waistband of Lance’s underwear. Lance still had his fingers around Joey’s wrist, nails scraping over Joey’s skin. "What’s the problem, man? Don’t you want this?"

"I want it so fucking bad," Lance muttered, back arching, his shoulders against the wall.

Joey licked at Lance’s mouth, and Lance let him. "You’re driving me crazy, man."

Lance mumbled something, so fucking quiet that Joey couldn’t hear it, not above the roar of blood through his ears and his own laboured breath. It was insanely hot in the room already. Sex was probably the worst idea ever, but Lance was being a dork, and Joey was horny as hell.

"You gotta repeat that," Joey said, nosing at Lance’s cheek, "I didn’t catch it."

Lance rolled his eyes. It was a little scary to see. His eyes were so damn big. "I’m dirty."

Fucking Lance Bass and his cleanliness issues. Joey laughed a little before he could stop himself and was rewarded with a look of utter exasperation from Lance. Joey kissed his lips before they could open and say something bitchy, swooping into Lance’s mouth with his tongue. It tasted a little sour but,

"Newsflash, Bass. You’re not the only one cooking in his own filth. I don’t care."

Lance grumbled a little, deep in his throat. "Yeah, but ... I’m gonna taste bad."

"I would suck your dick if it was covered with shit," Joey said. "I’m not kidding."

"That’s," Lance made a face, and Joey grinned at him, "that’s fucking disgusting, Joey. Do you actually get people into bed with these lines? Ugh. I’m so grossed out here, you moron."

"You think I'm joking, don't you? I'm totally not," Joey said, waggling his tongue. Mostly, he really was, but it was fun to skeeve Lance out, and Lance didn't disappoint, his mouth twisted up in his patented "you sick fuck" face of disgust. Joey grinned.

"I’m seriously going to puke," Lance said, pushing at Joey’s laughing face with his hand.

"Mmm." Joey smacked his lips. "Sooo tasty."

Lance started laughing, too. "You are a sick, sick bastard, Joey Fatone."

Joey beamed as big as he could force his dry lips to stretch. "You love me."

"Unfortunately," Lance said, and rolled his eyes.

~~~

They didn’t have sex, but after seriously grossing Lance out, Joey didn’t expect to. It was enough to make Lance nearly vomit in disgust, offending his delicate sensibilities. Sometimes, Joey couldn’t even believe Lance had ever had sex. It was messy and sloppy, and Lance wasn’t.

It was just as well, anyway. It was hotter than hot inside that box, and Joey didn’t want to move except to get water from the tap and wet his clothes. Even kissing Lance in a leisurely, non-strenuous way seemed like too much effort. If they weren’t careful, their sweat was going to fill the room and drown them in a flood. It’d already made the floor into a muddy, tacky mess.

Lance was in a chatty mood, and Joey was always happy to hear the sound of his own voice. They resorted to a game they both liked: talk as much shit about the other’s ex-boyfriends as humanly possible. Joey didn’t hate many people, but he had a special place of resentment for the group of men that had never been him, until now. If Lance ever let Joey sleep with him.

Joey started it. "Grant. He was such a moron, man. Underwear model or not, he couldn’t even spell his own name. I’d find notes to you, signed love Giant, and that pissed me off. I’m not saying I always spell my own name right. I probably don’t. But that guy was not bright."

"Kyle," Lance said, grinning. "I could have hated him only for selling your underwear on eBay, but he was also a kleptomaniac who stole shit from the rest of us. For months, I had to buy everything he listed, using ten different eBay names, just because you liked him so much."

"He was amazingly good in bed," Joey said in his own defence, and Lance nodded understandingly. "Gregory. He was way too pretentious for you, way too anti-pop. Like, if you’re getting laid by Lance Bass, shut the fuck up about boybands ruining music."

"He went on about it in bed, too. Total asshole." Lance cleared his throat. "Lukas. Okay, I liked him a lot, so I’m not sure I have anything bad to say about him at all. I was honestly sad when you guys broke up, even though, um. Okay. I shouldn’t even tell you this."

"Just spit it out, Lance."

Lance sighed. "He broke up with you because of the whole me and you situation."

"I should tell you that Sean broke up with you for the same reason, and Billy the lawyer."

"Darcy ditched you because of that, too," Lance said. "We got into a little fist fight once."

"Wow, I never knew that. Huh. That’s kinda cool. Battling for my love," Joey said.

"He called me a greedy, cock-teasing, ugly bastard actually, but if you want to believe that, Joey, go right ahead." Lance patted his arm, grinning, and Joey grabbed his hand. Even that movement was too much in the stifling heat, but Joey didn’t untwist their fingers, flood of sweat or not.

~~~

Lance spent most of the night standing at the window, his fingertips hooked over the edge. Joey sat in the shadows, watching how the moonlight hit Lance’s shoulders and cast a silver glow over his skin. If Joey could tell anything from the tight muscles of his back, Lance was incredibly sad and fighting it. When Lance began speaking, Joey knew he was right.

"The longer we stay here," Lance said, "the more likely it is we’ll die out here."

"How do you figure?"

"I heard them talking, that day they took me. They already think we’re too much trouble. If they don’t get their money, do you really think they’re going to stop in their frantic escape into Mexico and let us out of here?" Lance continued to stare out the window. "We’re nowhere, Joey, and nobody is going to find us out here. We’re locked in a box somewhere in Nevada."

"Arizona," Joey said idly. He wanted to bite his fingernails, but they were even grosser than anything Lance’s cock could offer. Fucking Lance and his dirty cock. Joey smiled despite himself. Lance was such a bonehead, such a moron and a dork, such the man of Joey’s dreams.

"I never got to go up there," Lance said, bowing his forehead to the backs of his hands.

"You will. This vacation in a box just has to end then you’ll be up there in a few years."

"We’re going to die in here, Joey. Aren’t you listening to me? We’re not getting out."

"You’re probably right, man. I mean, you’re always right. You’re not a big ill-informed loser," Joey said. "I’ll probably bite the dust before you. You have my blessing to eat me, man."

Lance kicked the wall with his bare foot. "Can’t you be realistic for one fucking minute?"

"Not in this scenario," Joey admitted, shrugging into the darkness.

Lance made his way back across the room, arms extended out in front of him. Joey only knew that because Lance poked him the eye before he sat down. When Joey felt for Lance’s cheeks, they were dry from tears and damp from oily sweat. Joey lifted his arm and put it over Lance’s shoulders, holding him close. Lance sighed deeply, and Joey echoed it. Realism sucked.

~~~

Lance’s watch died the next day, and they’d forgotten to tick off marks on the wall for a while, so time just sort of went on, slow and fast, all at once. Joey wasn’t really concerned about how much of his life he was losing on account of being kidnapped. Being alive at all was more than enough. In the grand scheme of things, a couple weeks in a box wasn’t all that long.

"Okay," Lance said after a day of lazy lounging and not a lot of words, "but if I taste bad, I’m sorry in advance. I’m usually a lot more hygienic, and when," Lance’s voice wobbled a little, "and when we get out of here, we’ll have nice, clean, sanitary sex. I just ... want you right now."

"Thank fucking god," Joey said, already over Lance, moving for his mouth.

It was funny, though. Once Joey had been given permission, he completely forgot what to do. Not exactly, muscle memory and stuff, but it felt like he had. Lance’s body was strange and foreign under his hands, like Joey had never touched another man before. With his fingers, Joey mapped every bit of Lance’s skin, the sweaty insides of his smooth thighs, the stinky curves of his armpits, the slick plain of his stomach where the sweat pooled like a pond in his bellybutton.

"I don’t have to blow you," Joey murmured, fitting his hand between Lance’s legs, sliding his fingers up Lance’s cock. It felt incredible in his palm, thick and long, so ready for him. "If the taste thing really bothers you, I won’t. Can save that for later and that bed I’m gonna ask for."

"Now’s fine," Lance whispered, his throat bobbing with laboured breath, "if you don’t mind." Joey knew what Lance wanted to say, that maybe there wasn’t a later, but Lance held it in, and Joey loved him for that. If there wasn’t a later, Joey didn’t want to think about it.

Dark was spiralling across the room, slowly swallowing everything, the scatter of their dirty clothes, the metal of the sink. Lance, too, was fading into blackness, his feet already gone. Joey could still see him, perfect and lightly tanned, and his fucking gorgeous cock. Joey stopped at Lance’s bellybutton to lap at the pool there before sliding down, finally tasting his dick.

"Sweet Jesus," Lance said, spreading his knees and lifting his hips. A hand slid down into Joey’s hair, twisting in the greasy knots. Joey laughed around Lance’s cockhead then nearly choked to death when a startled swallow of pre-come and spit went down the wrong pipes.

"Sorry," Joey choked, slobbering all over Lance’s dick.

"You okay?" Lance asked, lifting up his head and looking concerned, and Joey nodded.

"So much better than peanut butter sandwiches, man," Joey said and tongued his shaft.

Above him, Lance laughed into the night, his belly rumbling against Joey’s sweaty brow.

~~~

In the morning, things seemed great, minus the life in a hot box thing. They’d had sex for as long as they could manage it. Hot, mind-blowing sex that weakened Joey’s knees when he stood at the sink, trying to pee while Lance giggled like a hyena. When Lance came up against his back, wetly naked, and held his cock as he pissed, Joey forgave him for being such a dork.

They shared half a sandwich then laid down to wait for the day to pass. So fucking hot. Joey was moving to Canada the minute he could. He’d had enough of the suffocating heat. Anything that prevented him from jumping Lance’s bones sucked. In that way, the box was both good and terribly bad. Joey had never sexed Lance up before the box, but it was also really hot.

"I spy with my little eye something that is," Lance glanced from side to side, "blue."

"My jeans?"

"Nope," Lance said smugly. "Try again."

"Your jeans?"

"Shucks, you got it," Lance said, weakly sliding his fist in a hook-pattern across his belly.

Joey looked around, barely moving his head and giving himself a mean case of eyestrain. This game was seriously lame, but there was nothing better to do, and it was forcing them to be slightly inventive. Sorta, anyway. "I spy with my little eye something that is brown and silver."

"Hmm." Lance’s smile sparkled in the light from the window. "A pail of shit, perhaps?"

"You’re too good at this game, man," Joey said, laughing.

~~~

"You think everybody’s okay out there?" Joey asked one night, both of them standing at the window, gazing outside. Something Joey was really grateful for was how tightly sealed the box was. Creepy critters lived in dark deserts. He’d seen specials about them on the Discovery Channel. Scorpions and snakes and spiders would have totally made everything worse.

"I don’t think we’re going to return to the same world," Lance replied.

"Want to hear something a little stupid?" Joey asked, his hand at the small of Lance’s back, feeling the little hairs under his fingertips. When he moved his palm down to the curve of Lance’s ass, Lance didn’t even move, just trusted him and let him do it. Joey found that really profound, really comforting. The night-terrors were shaking their way through his bones again.

Lance smiled, catching the moonlight in his teeth. "Sure."

"Sometimes, at night, I think really hard and make myself believe that, like, C or Chris or J are picking up my thoughts. My mom always joked we had a telepathic bond, the five of us. I find it a little comforting to think we do, that they’re coming for us, knowing where we are."

"That’s not stupid," Lance said. "I’ve been praying to God, hoping He’ll lead them."

They shared a smile and stepped forward at the exact same moment, grabbing each other in a hug. Lance fit so well in his arms, Joey had always thought that, and now he believed it, too. Lance was little and sturdy, small enough to envelop but big enough to give it all back.

"Think they’ll be surprised," Joey asked, "about us?"

"I’m not even surprised about us," Lance said. "Only if they’re morons, which could very well be."

Joey smiled, fighting the sadness in his own belly as it crept up his throat like heartburn. With the dark came the fear, and the night was almost entirely upon them. When Joey slid down the wall, Lance came with him, the two of them twined tightly together and impossible to cleave.

"I’m feeling a little scared right now," Joey admitted.

Lance nodded into Joey’s shoulder. "Me too."

"We’ll be fine," Joey said.

Lance nodded again. "I know we will be."

~~~

Joey’s new favourite game was how many strokes of Lance’s dick did it take to make him orgasm. During the day, when it took all of Joey’s strength just to move, was the best. Lance would lie there, sweating, as Joey barely moved his hand at all, barely even brushing his cock. Lance had played the same game with him before, and it’d been the most fun he’d had in ages.

"You ever hear about those guys who get off on tickling?" Lance asked, panting out the words. Joey knew it was more due to the sweltering heat than the feel of his hand on Lance’s cock, but it stroked his ego and made him feel godly anyway. "That’s what this reminds me of."

"I can see that," Joey said, watching Lance’s face. What a good looking guy Lance was.

"What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?" Lance asked, parting his legs a little more, which meant he was closer to coming than he’d been before. Lance always came like a guy who loved to bottom, with his knees spread wide and his ass lifted high, which was great. Joey loved to top.

He moved his hand slowly over Lance’s shaft. "Done to me or done to someone else?"

"Whatever. Kinkiest thing you’ve ever been involved in." Lance licked at his own lips.

"Darcy had a medical fetish," Joey said, lightly pressing a fingernail on Lance’s shaft as he pulled at his cock. Lance shivered. "I was the doctor, and he was the patient. It was a little odd. He had all these gadgets he liked me to use on him, and he got me this white coat that said Dr. Joseph on it, embroidered on the pocket."

"Weird," Lance said.

Lightly, Joey rubbed the flat of his palm over the head of Lance’s dick. "I know."

"I can’t believe you never told me about that."

"Did you really want to know I had an ex-boyfriend into having a speculum up his ass?"

"Good point," Lance conceded, nodding. He lifted a hand to push hair off his forehead, where it stuck like it was glued there. After a few failed attempts, Lance dropped his hand and let the hair stay thickly matted on his brow. Lance yawned then said, "Grant was into piss play."

"Did you go with it?"

"A couple times," Lance said, shrugging. Lance shook on the up-stroke of his cock, his knees wide open. "It was kind of cool. Nothing I’d tell my mother about, but I found it a little exciting. I wasn’t into him enough to really enjoy myself. You’re right. He was pretty stupid."

"I’ll pee on you whenever you want, man," Joey murmured, fluttering over Lance’s dick.

"Gee, I’ll keep that in mind," Lance replied, lifting his hips.

~~~

The sandwiches ran out, and nobody came with more. Vaguely, Joey remembered that the human body could survive for more than a week provided there was water. He didn’t know whether to believe it or not. Joey was pretty sure he’d learned that from the movie Tremors. Joey didn’t let that get him down, though. There would be more sandwiches. There had to be.

"Sick and tired of hearin’ all these people talk about," Joey warbled as Lance slithered around down below, poking half-heartedly at Joey’s cock. Joey worried a little that Lance had gone off the deep end, but he wasn’t trying to bite Joey’s dick or anything like that. "What’s the deal with this hot box and when are we gonna get out? The thing we got to realise, what we’re feelin’ is not a trend. We got gay sexuality. We gonna have it till the end. Come on now ..."

"Please don’t keep singing that," Lance said, nosing a little at Joey’s balls.

Joey smiled then opened his mouth as wide as he could manage without causing himself too much pain. His lips felt like sandpaper. "Do you ever wonder why, cocksucking gets you high? It takes you on a ride. Feel it when your body starts to fuck and baby you’ve got luck where big dicks are all you suck. This must be ..."

"Joey," Lance said, narrowed eyes appearing above the rise of Joey’s gut.

"Dirty cock, baby, baby, you can’t stop. I know you like this dirty cock. This must be ..."

"Don’t say it," Lance warned, flashing his pearly white teeth.

Joey looked right at him and totally said it, "cock!" It came out shockingly high-pitched.

"I’m never going to remember the right words to that song now," Lance said, "thank you."

"Hey, man. It’s a duet. I’m gonna put it on my album. Joey Fatone featuring Lance Bass, in more ways than one," Joey added, chortling merrily to himself. The heat was making him feel like he’d smoked too much pot, happily and blissfully dazed and really fucking hungry, too.

~~~

"We would have been working on the album right about now."

Joey nodded. He’d been looking forward to it. Fame had ended, he’d moved back to Orlando, and had been poking at his comedy album while waiting for everyone else to get in. It seemed like a million years ago, when Joey thought about it now, like someone else’s life. Joey Fatone, Nsync superstar, and not his current impostor, the man known only as Joey-in-a-box.

"I had a song," Lance said, "about Russia."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It probably wasn’t any good, but I wrote it, you know? I was proud of it."

"Did I get a solo on it?" Joey asked, fighting to keep his eyes open. All he ever wanted to do anymore was sleep, it felt like. At night, he was restless and fidgety, half inside his dreams and half outside them. During the day, it was worse. He could hardly stay in his head at all.

"Everyone did, even me. I demo-ed it, too, in my bathroom, using my voice-mail. It was supposed to be a cappella, I think. I don’t know. I call it a song, but it was really a poem. I hope they find it," Lance said, and there was something in his voice that pinged of slight hysteria.

"C’mere," Joey murmured, lifting up his hand. It was too hot to do this, too hot to be within a foot of each other, but Joey didn’t care. He cared about nothing, except Lance and sleeping, and maybe food, and probably water, too. But those four things, Joey cared a lot about.

Lance wiggled over to him and slid under Joey’s arm. His eyes were shockingly wide.

"That better?" Joey asked. Lance hummed into Joey’s chest and didn’t reply.

~~~

At some point, they stopped talking during the day. The hunger ebbed sooner than Joey thought it would, but he felt like his limbs were made of jelly. It took all the strength he had to get on his knees and hang his head over the side of the sink to drink. The pail became a piss pail, too. Delirium seemed to settle with the heat. Joey faded in and out of consciousness, aware only of Lance breathing beside him, rough and laboured. His eyebrows had started to grow back.

At night, it was a little different. They lay together on the ground, cushioned by the slight give of the dirt, facing each other. Sometimes Lance cried, and sometimes he didn’t. Joey couldn’t cry, even though he knew, on some level, why Lance was so sad. He didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about it made it true, and Joey wasn’t ready yet to say goodbye.

"Maddest you’ve ever been at me," Lance said.

"You don’t have to use this game as a confessional," Joey murmured, "just tell me."

Lance bowed his face to Joey’s then nodded, their foreheads sliding together. Joey could taste the salt of Lance’s tears on his own lips. It was so dark. It was getting so fucking dark. Sometimes, Joey felt his breath stop still in his chest, like it was waiting, like it was practising.

"I’m listening," Joey whispered.

"I wanted Brianna to be ours," Lance said, "and you didn’t wait for me."

Joey saw tears like crystal bead along his lashes. "I couldn’t believe you were coming."

"I’m not mad anymore, but I was. I hated you, Joey, and I couldn’t stop myself. I tried so hard to be happy for you, but I wasn’t. Not until she was born, and then I loved her like she was my own," Lance said. His voice was so low that Joey could barely hear it. Lance was fading.

"She’s ours, man," Joey said. "I gave her to you when I asked you to be her godfather. She’ll be ours, when we," Joey closed his eyes and willed the world to stop spinning, "when we get out, get back, to where we were. To our life together outside this fucking box. Remember it?"

"I remember it," Lance said.

"We’ll see it soon," Joey whispered.

"We will," Lance agreed.

~~~

They saw it, the outside, sooner than Joey expected. He woke as they dragged him out of the box. When he opened his eyes, the sunlight seared his retinas and tried to bring his hands to his eyes, but they grabbed him and yanked him over to Lance, who looked beautiful in the light.

"I love you," Joey said, blindly reaching for his hand, blubbering, "I love you, I love you."

Lance whimpered when they kicked him down, but Joey still held onto him, their fingers an unbreakable knot between them. They were bound with silver duct tape looped around their wrists, and Joey barely got his eyes closed before the tape came over his eyes, blinding him.

"Stand up," one of them said, and Joey ambled to his feet, pulling Lance with him. "Feel this?" Something smooth, hard and round slid between Joey’s teeth. "Know what it is?" Joey knew. Oh, god, he knew. Fear crept over him like a thousand scorpions. Rapidly, Joey nodded. "Good. Now, start walking and don’t stop. If you stop, we’ll shoot only one of you. Got it?"

Joey nodded, and the gun was pulled from his mouth, replaced by a line of tape.

"Go," the same voice said.

Joey didn’t know where he found the strength. He hadn’t eaten for days, hadn’t had a sip of water for at least one. There was nothing left in him but grim determination and the realisation that if he didn’t move forward, one of them would really die. Knowing Joey’s luck, it’d be Lance.

Each step seemed like forever, and Joey could hear them behind him, the kidnappers, the shouts of their voices, and the roars of their engines, and then their tires, screeching like bats out of hell and then the crack of a gunshot, and another, and another. Joey wanted to run, felt every muscle in his legs ache for it, but he couldn’t. Lance fell to the ground, and Joey followed him.

~~~

In the eerie silence that came after, Joey realised he couldn’t cry with the tape over his eyes. His chest hurt from all the dust he breathed in, and oh god, oh god. Lance. He didn’t want to breathe. He wanted to die, to be there with him, to be back in that box, protected. Anything but what he had, this suffocating stillness, this terrible heat on his skin. Joey was going to die, too.

"Guys?"

Joey lifted his head then groaned in pain as Chris tore off the tape, quick and fast, like a bandaid, taking all of Joey’s eyelashes with it. Joey closed his eyes the minute the sun touched them, tears of pain streaking down his cheeks, and maybe tears of something else, too.

Joey roared when the tape came off his mouth, the agony in him bubbling to his skin. He grabbed Chris and held onto him, face buried in his stomach, gasping everything out. All those weeks of making Lance smile and taking his mind off everything and loving him, all for nothing.

"Come on," Chris said. "I have to get you guys into the car. Can you stand up?"

Joey snapped his eyes open, and there he was, Lance, fucking breathing and alive and fuck. Joey lunged for him, and Lance did the same, and their heads banged together like two rocks, but Joey didn’t care. Lance had the same sort of crazy relief bending his mouth.

"Come on," Chris hissed and pulled them up, dragging them along, "come on!"

In the car, they locked the doors. Chris looked horrible, dark patches under his eyes and a beard that hadn’t been touched in at least a month. On the steering wheel, Chris’s hands shook. Instinctively, Joey reached out and folded his fingers over Chris’s shoulder, tightening at first touch. Lance did the same on the other side, thumb rubbing gently against Chris’s neck.

It was then that Chris bowed his head to his arms and started to weep, his tears washing the dust from his skin. In the back, Joey and Lance were still bound at the wrist with silver duct tape. Joey pulled Lance closer and watched Chris cry, strangely detached from it all.

I’m in shock, Joey thought suddenly. He’d seen that shit in the movies a couple times.

~~~

When Joey woke up, he was in a hospital bed, hooked up to a lot of creepy-looking gadgets. Lance was in the same room, staring out the window. Stars twinkled brightly in the sky. Joey wondered how many nights he’d missed. A lot, if the amount of flowers in the room was any indication. It felt like forever, and he’d been in pretty rough shape those last few days.

When Joey cleared his throat, Lance looked over and smiled. They’d shaved off his patchy beard-like facial hair. He looked dangerously thin and even more tired than he had after Russia. Joey made a mental note not to look in the mirror until he’d had a couple cheeseburgers.

"Hey," Lance rasped, waving his fingers.

"Hi," Joey said, his own voice rough in his throat. He was suddenly very thirsty.

Lance sat up, putting his skinny legs over the side of the bed. When he tried to walk, he wobbled. Lance made his way to Joey’s side and stared at the mattress until Joey scooted over. Lance climbed in, dragging all the contraptions he was hooked up to with him. "You okay?"

"I’m so gonna need therapy," Joey said, "and I’m a little thirsty, but not too bad. You?"

"Mostly the same," Lance said. "Your parents and mine were here earlier, and Kelly and Jen and Brianna, and the guys, too. Everyone looks pretty awful, but I think we have them beat." Lance yawned in Joey’s ear then snuggled up against him, threading their fingers together. The whole world seemed still and quiet. "Those guys, though, they’re all dead. We’re safe."

"Big police shoot out?"

"Something like that," Lance murmured, dropping his eyes. "I thought ..."

"Me too, man. I mean, that you’d been shot. I knew I hadn’t been hit, but for a minute there." Joey shuddered as the memory fought its way back into his head. When he looked at Lance, he knew Lance was remembering the same thing. Joey’s therapy bills were going to be through the roof, which wasn’t as funny as Joey was hoping it would be. "But we’re fine now."

"You were right," Lance said, "and I didn’t believe you. Not once did I believe you."

"You never believe me, man," Joey replied. "That’s okay. I’m used to it ... bonehead."

Lance smiled then kissed Joey on the lips. "I love you, too."

Joey chuckled, even though it hurt to do it. He felt stiff all over, and hungry. Oh, boy, he felt hungry. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he clamped a hand over it. Sheepishly, he looked at Lance, who was laughing. "Hey, man, you think we can get nachos and twinkies in this joint?"

"Where do you think the guys went? There’s a 7-11 down the road." Lance exhaled a warm breath over Joey’s neck. It fluttered down his gown and puffed out the front. "Turns out they have them in Utah. The Mojave Desert, Joey, in fucking Utah. Oh, god, I hate Utah."

There was nothing else he could do, so Joey laughed.

Fin.