nsync in black and white

Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

Not a Fighter Pilot

written for fic_requests on LJ

It was painful to watch the way Lance smiled his way through the press and the paparazzi, the way he held his head up and refused to make any kind of comment about the breakup. That smile was just a little too bright, the angle of his head a little too jaunty, too defiant. It fooled the public, but JC knew better. Lance was in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He'd already tried calling. The one time he didn't go straight to voicemail, Lance had been snippy and impatient, had dismissed all his concerns and insisted that he was fine. And it wasn't true. JC knew Lance better than that. Lance had invested a lot in that relationship—hell, he'd come out publicly because of Reichen. Even though JC had never liked the guy, Lance had been happy with him.

And now he was miserable.

Since calling was getting him nowhere, JC made up his mind to go see Lance in person, give him a big hug and the chance to let it all out. So here he was on Lance's doorstep. He'd been in touch with Lance's assistant to get a heads up on his schedule, so he knew Lance wasn't booked to be making some appearance elsewhere, and eventually, the door opened and Lance looked at him.


Okay, not a great start, but JC smiled manfully and said, "Thought you might want some company, man."

"What I want," Lance said through his teeth, "is a good fuck." He stared JC straight in the eye.

That was a bit harsher than JC had been prepared for, but Lance was never like that, never, he'd rather die than be rude, even to his best friends. So he was hurting even worse than JC had realized, and it was going to take something special to get through to him. "Okay," he said. "I can do that."

Surprise was a better look than bitterness, though it only lasted a moment before Lance scowled again. "Oh, really."

"Sure. You want me pitching or catching?" He could see the exact moment when Lance decided to call his bluff, a split second before Lance smiled like a shark and stood back to invite him in. Only he wasn't bluffing, so he stepped inside. "Upstairs?"

Lance's eyes narrowed. He obviously still thought JC was going to chicken out, so it was time to convince him. JC was all for comforting people with sex, and though he wasn't exactly accustomed to having sex with men, he was sure he'd covered the basics one way or another, and besides, it was Lance. Lance was hurting, and JC was just not going to allow that.

And besides, he knew Lance.

"You wanna strip?" Lance said as they got through his bedroom door.

JC calmly took off his clothes. He didn't look at Lance, Lance wasn't ready yet, he just folded his T-shirt and jeans and put his underwear neatly on top of them. "I guess you want me on the bed," he suggested. "You got stuff, and everything?"

"Lie down on your front," said Lance, and his hand went to the button on his jeans.

JC stretched obediently on the bed, and spread his legs helpfully. He was a little tense, but Lance needed this, he needed someone to be willing to give him everything he asked for. And however much he was hurting, Lance was still Lance. He wasn't going to hurt JC. JC was pretty sure. In any case, if that was what Lance needed, JC was going to make sure he got it. JC wasn't fragile.

The bed dipped, and there was a hand on his thigh, and then—

"Oh, God, 'C, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." There it was. JC twisted around and took Lance in his arms as Lance began to sob. "I'm so sorry, JC. I never, I'm sorry."

"Hush, babe, it's okay. I know you wouldn't hurt me. I got you." They sat there, clinging on tight until Lance's deep, heaving breaths calmed and he pulled away a little.

"JC," he began, helplessly.

"I told you, it's okay. I know you. You've been so angry and there was nobody you could tell. If you wanted to let it out on me, I can take it."

"I shouldn't have. I wasn't angry at you."

JC said something extremely uncomplimentary about Reichen.

"I thought he wasn't like that. I thought he, I honestly thought he loved me. Maybe he actually did, for a while there."

"Maybe he did," said JC. "He just wasn't the man you needed him to be."

"And I..." Lance stopped.

"And everybody knows you broke up, when you were supposed to be the perfect gay couple," JC supplied. "But you know, you've been embarrassed in public before and you held your head up and you talked to your friends. This time, you just held your head up." He paused, then added, gently, "You want to talk to your friend now? I'm right here."

Lance huffed out a sigh and leaned into JC's embrace. "I don't think there's anything I need to say," he muttered. "I mean. You know."

"I know." So he just held him for a while longer. It was nice. JC hadn't really had the chance to hug Lance for... a long time, way too long, and he'd missed it. It was a privilege to be one of the people allowed to hug Lance—really hug him, not just in that casual one-armed hi-there way he accorded to everybody. When Lance really cared about you, he'd give you a real hug, and it felt good.

It felt. Better than JC had intended.

Okay, this was going to be embarrassing any minute now.


"You know," he said, cautiously, "I, um. I was half-expecting... I wasn't surprised when you said you wanted a good fuck."

"JC, I—"

"No, hear me out. I didn't have to say yes."

"No, I should never—"

"But I kinda wanted to."

There was an entirely new silence. Lance slowly raised his head and stared at JC, who looked right back at him.

"I, but, you. You're not."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said JC. He took hold of Lance's hand and guided it to his groin, where it was fairly obvious that being naked and cuddling a gorgeous man was something JC liked. "So, you know. We could. If you want."

"You're not serious..." Lance didn't sound sure. "I mean, you were never interested in men—in me, anyway."

"You don't know if I was interested in men before," said JC, reasonably. "As for being interested in you, by the time I figured out I might be, you had your big gay fighter pilot in tow. But you cast him loose, now, so..."

Lance stared. But he didn't look as though he hated the idea.

"I'm not a fighter pilot," said JC, "but I'm damn sure I'm a better man than Reichen Lehmkuhl." He leaned in for a kiss.

After that, it was easy.


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