It wasn't easy to pretend nothing had happened, but it was a hell of a lot easier than acknowledging that the three of them had spent the night together having amazing sex. Lance was good at pretending, and he didn't see what else he could do. Once they got back on tour—well, at least he'd be on the bus with Joey, when they weren't all together for the performance/soundcheck/interview rigmarole.
* * *
He was doing a fair job of avoiding being alone with either Chris or Justin—and had the impression they were making the same effort. So that was good. Really. He wasn't hoping that they'd... do anything, because there wasn't anything to be done, unless they apologized, which would be worst of all.
Until the night the others went clubbing, and Lance stayed behind to catch up on some emails for an hour or so before he joined them. And there was a knock at the door.
Chris and Justin didn't wait for permission. The knock was followed at once by the sound of keycard in lock. Must have cajoled Lonnie into letting them have his spare. Fuckers. Dismayed at the sight of them, Lance hit Save—he was pretty much done here—but kept his eyes focussed on the laptop and pretended to be busy.
Justin started right in. That was ominous. It meant Chris was saving the big guns. Chris was just staring in that concentrated way he had, and Justin was querulous. "Man, you've been avoiding us. That ain't fair. We're still your friends, right?"
"Why wouldn't you be?" Lance asked, pleasantly but with an undertone of get-the-hell-out.
"Yeah, that's what we want to know. I mean, you just wanna ignore what happened, that's okay, I mean, it's not okay, but we're okay with it if it's what you wanna do. I think we should talk about it, but you know, it's okay. If you don't."
"Very lucid," said Lance, his tone not varying. "And I don't. I don't think we have anything to talk about."
"Come on, don't be that way. Lance—we just, it's just, you—"
"And this is your idea of not talking about it?" It was the same every time, it was back to Shrek again even though this time Lance had stated upfront his Matrix preference. "I have work to do," he said, coldly. "And if I didn't, I'd be out having a good time, not sitting here talking about something I prefer to forget."
They exchanged significant looks. Damn, but that was annoying.
"Lance," Justin was wheedling, now. "We should, you know we should talk about this. About what, about why—"
"No we fucking shouldn't! Y'all had your fun, yeah, so did I, y'all are great in bed, period. Nothing more to say."
"Fine," said Chris. "Let's fuck."
"Chris!" Justin sounded anguished. Lance wasn't anguished, though, he was just angry. Livid, in fact. That Chris could treat the whole thing so casually.
"Fuck. You. Chris."
"Yeah," said Chris. "That's what I want. You never fucked me, and J never fucked you, and I bet you give amazing blowjobs, so how about it, Bass? Hell, we'll guarantee to leave before breakfast if that's what you want."
Lance would have liked to hit him. His hands were actually shaking with the impulse. "It is not," he said through rigid jaws, "what I want. Y'all come to me when, what, it's time for some variety? I told y'all before, I'm not a sex toy."
"We know you can go out and get laid any night of the week," Chris said carelessly. "We just don't know why you'd want to, when you could do so much better."
There was so much wrong with that casual statement that Lance hardly knew where to begin. "I do not—" he began, and gave vent to a shout of frustration. "Just go! Go!"
Chris moved, certainly, but instead of heading sensibly for the door, brought himself within range of Lance's fists. Knelt, right there, next to Lance's knee. "Here's the thing," he said. "We're supposed to be friends. We need to talk. The two of us got a few things clear, and now it's your turn."
"Don't wanna talk," Lance said crossly. What was he going to say—thanks for relieving me of my pesky virginity? No. Way.
"Please, Lance." Justin was standing behind him now, there was a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to him. Please."
"Lance. I—we know you could have anyone. Obviously. I mean, aside from being a hot superstar, which doesn't mean much in present company seeing as how I am a sex god and Justin here learned everything he knows from me, except cunnilingus which God forbid, but you are one of the hottest creatures on earth, so you don't have to settle, except we think maybe you need us. Not just for getting laid, but don't you dare tell me the sex wasn't right up there with the best you ever had."
"The best—" Lance glared right back at the intense dark stare. "I must have been pretty damn good myself. Since I'm out practicing every night of the week."
"Of course you were. You were fantastic. It was amazing." Justin's hand tightened on his shoulder, as if to emphasize the point. "But it wasn't supposed to be a one-off."
"So, what? Y'all show up in my hotel room whenever y'all want a threesome?"
"Lance. Listen, for fuck's sake. Listen to what we're saying." Chris leant closer—shades of the first time, Lance thought bitterly, he'd been such a pushover for them. Not again. "We want—we want you."
"Don't. Just don't." This was outrageously unfair. They had no clue, no clue what this meant to him. "Leave me alone!"
"Chris, maybe we should go."
Chris ignored that, and met Lance's glare without flinching. "We don't want you to be alone. We want you to be with us."
Lance stared, bewildered. "What... I don't..."
"No, we know you don't, but can you at least think about it? Is fucking random pretty strangers really better than being with us?"
"I don't understand. What are you saying? I thought..."
"We're saying we want you to be our boyfriend," Justin's voice, from behind him. "We know you don't, um, don't do boyfriends, but you could maybe think about it, because it's us, and you know you already love us."
"I don't—what do you mean, I don't do boyfriends?"
"Not unless you've been hiding some guy in a closet somewhere and not telling your best friends about him," said Chris.
"Of course I haven't! But I don't see why y'all should assume I don't want one. I just, when did I get the chance?"
"You do now." Chris sounded perfectly serious. "Boyband special, two for the price of one." Serious for Chris, anyway.
Lance had no clue how to respond. They were both looking at him, apparently in earnest, surely this had to be some kind of joke, he couldn't fall for it, he couldn't, he should tell them to stick it and take off for that club where JC and Joey had gone. What actually came out of his mouth was, "I don't understand why y'all would want me. Or anyone. I mean, y'all are perfect together."
Chris gave a wry smile. "You'd be surprised," he muttered.
Justin swung round to kneel next to Chris. "It's hard to explain," he began. "I mean, we, it's complicated. But we do. Both of us. Want you."
"Need you," amended Chris. Justin nodded. There was a short silence.
Lance shook his head, trying to fit his thoughts round this development. "Need me? For what, exactly?"
"Well, now, J says stability and I say surprise. He says you're restful and I say you're funny. But we both agree on you being hot."
Lance realized his mouth had fallen open, and closed it. It was as if everything in the room had turned through ninety degrees when he wasn't looking. It sounded as though Chris was saying they'd talked about making him part of their relationship. But—how could that be? Or had he just misunderstood? He wasn't dreaming again...
They were watching him, giving him time to think. It was unsettling. Chris never kept still like this! But it didn't feel like a practical joke, it really didn't. It felt like they might, might be serious.
Be careful, he told himself. See if it's real. Don't give anything away. "So, what exactly, what is it y'all want from me?"
"Everything you want to give us," said Justin.
"Whatever you've got," said Chris almost simultaneously. "Except crabs. If you've got crabs, we don't want those."
"Chris!" Justin yelped, but Lance grinned, suddenly eased. A Chris who would talk about not wanting crabs was a Chris he recognized.
"Whatever you want to give us," Chris amended. "Except—"
"Crabs, yeah. I got that."
There was a short silence. "So?" said Justin, hesitantly. "What do you say?"
"Say you'll at least think about it," Chris added.
"Yes," said Lance. It felt like jumping out of an airplane. He hoped to God they really were serious, because otherwise he'd hit the ground very, very hard.
"Yes... you'll think about it?" Justin was still tentative.
Lance laughed helplessly and got to his feet. Hauled Justin up and into a long, careful kiss. As J's tongue licked eagerly at his mouth, Lance felt the warm pressure of Chris's body against his right side, and reached to pull him closer.
One day, Lance thought, as they lay tangled together between white hotel sheets, he'd tell them how far off base they'd been about him. Not yet, though. Hot boyfriends... tired... tell them someday... Sleep now.
He felt the hands clasped across his chest, and smiled.
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