by Zoicite
 Thanks to Coreopsis, Marie, and the Sandys for the Betas. Lance was surprised when he ran into Nick at a club in London and even more surprised later when Nick was standing close, a hand low on Lance’s back beneath his shirt. Nick said, “I don’t do the one night thing,” and Lance nodded, grinned. It was a toothy grin. Lance had had too much to drink. “No, really,” Nick continued, “I really don’t.” “What are we doing then?” Lance asked, running fingers across Nick’s neck. “I don’t know,” Nick said, “but it’s going to be more than one night if it’s anything.” “Sure,” Lance agreed as he began dragging Nick toward the bar for another drink. Lance chuckled, because of course Nick did the one night thing, he wasn’t Brian Littrell. Everyone did the one night thing. Maybe not Justin, but Nick wasn’t Justin either. And Nick wasn’t putting up much of a fight. He wasn’t putting up any fight at all, really. His hand hadn’t left Lance’s body since Lance mentioned that thing about his place being close by. “Let’s go,” Lance said, pulling the front of Nick’s shirt as he backed toward the door. He didn’t get very far before he bumped into someone and Nick was looking at him with bright eyes, had been all night, but he turned then to scan the club. “Looking for someone?” “My bodyguard,” Nick said, gripping the wrist that held his shirt and swiping his thumb across the inside of Lance’s palm. “Do we need to find him?” “No,” Nick shook his head, damp hair falling over his forehead, “No, I wanted to lose him.” “Let’s go,” Lance said again. Nick really wasn’t putting up any sort of fight whatsoever. He collapsed on the bed as soon as Lance locked the door, big and golden and spread out just for Lance. He jerked Nick off afterward, slow strokes that had Nick moaning, whimpering, and Lance’s voice was made for sex, but he thought maybe Nick’s was too. Lance was half-hard again by the time it was finished, by the time Nick was pliant and wrapped around Lance. In the morning Nick said “I’ll call you when I get back to the States,” and Lance thought sure you will, sure Nick, and he said “Sure. Okay,” and kissed Nick goodbye. Lance’s eyebrows were fucking strange, Nick thought, flipping through People Magazine on the flight. He tried to think of a descriptive term, but all he could come up with was ‘quirky’. He thought they were probably more sarcastic than quirky, but he didn’t know exactly what quirky meant, so he decided not to dwell on it. He’d come to London for the premiere of Star Wars, a draw he just couldn’t resist. It was good, it was Star Wars, of course it was good, but Nick thought the love story was a bit too cheesy, even for him. Nick knew cheese, Nick spent his life singing cheese, and he knew bad cheese when he saw it. It was Star Wars though, so the cheesy ass awkward love story was forgiven. Mostly, Nick was just ready to go home. He was sick of Sweden, he was sick of signing autographs, and he was sick of showing up in the foreign tabloids. He never punched his bodyguard. They’d just gotten into a little spat, there was a little pushing, nothing unusual. Shit, no wonder everyone thought he was so fucking fucked up all the time. And AJ, man. Nick nearly shit a brick when he read that AJ had been out on the town trashed off his ass. The last thing Nick wanted was a repeat of last summer. The worst couple days of his life. Nick had his brother back and it was going to stay that way. He’d called Kevin panicked, only to be told that it was a stupid fucking rumor, that AJ had been spending time with Sarah and golfing with Brian and that was it. Kevin hadn't even heard the stories, they hadn't made it out of Sweden. So, Nick was ready to go home, hole up in his house, maybe hang out with Aaron. He was getting a little sick of the solo thing. He wasn't sure how Lance could stand it, stuck in Russia, training for space. Months without his friends. Nick didn't think he could take it. Nick used to think that Lance looked like a scary butch lesbian, the kind that rode motorcycles and wore leather, except that Lance wore button down shirts tucked into faded jeans instead. Lance didn’t look very much like a lesbian anymore. Nick ran a finger over Lance’s face, then looked around to make sure no one saw him do it. He flipped the magazine shut and stuffed it in the cloth rack on the back of the seat in front of him. He didn’t do the one night thing. He thought Lance probably didn’t believe him on that account, but he really didn’t, and he didn’t want to start now. Nick’s one night policy led to a lot of problems really, problems like Mandy, or Willa, or whatever she was going by that week. Still, Nick just didn’t like sex that wasn’t leading to something, sex that didn’t mean something, even if it turned out to be a lie. It probably sounded so ridiculous, like he wasn’t getting laid, and he was Nick Carter so that would sound ridiculous. But that’s why he had Howie. Nick got laid plenty, and it was never a one-night thing. Lance jumped when his phone rang. “Fuck,” he said, looking around though he was the only one in the apartment. Two weeks had passed since Lance’s little fling with Nick. Nick called him six times in two weeks. Just to talk. Lance glanced at his caller ID, positive that it would be Nick, and sighed in relief when he saw Joey flashing on the screen. “Joe,” Lance said, answering the phone and collapsing onto his couch, “Joey, hey.” Joey laughed, “Miss me?” “Yes. I thought you were going to be someone else.” Joey filled Lance in on all the Chris news and the JC and Justin news and the Brianna news, and Lance grinned because his goddaughter was seriously the cutest thing ever. Lance wanted the space thing, he wanted it a lot, and he didn’t regret trying it at all, but sometimes he wished he wasn’t missing so much by going after his dreams. “You’re going to send me pictures, right?” Lance asked. “Pictures and video, man. Don’t worry, I’ll hook you up.” “Nick Carter is a fucking freak,” Lance said before he could help himself. He hadn’t planned to tell the guys. “Nick Carter?” Joey asked, and Lance could imagine the look on his face, his eyebrows pushed together a little in the middle, his hand was probably rubbing his chin. “When did you see Nick?” “In London. I had a few days off, so Freddy and I went to London, and.” “You hooked up with Nick Carter?” “Yes, okay? Yes. And now he’s fucking stalking me or something.” Lance slouched lower on the couch, his forehead cradled in the palm of his hand. “Seriously, I don’t even know how he got my phone number.” “Did you tell him to fuck off?” “No,” Lance sighed, “I can’t do that, Joe.” “You do that all the time,” Joey pointed out, and Lance frowned because he did do it all the time. But this wasn’t some random guy. “It’s Nick Carter.” “Yeah,” Joey said and Lance knew that Joey thought he was screwed. Nick kissed Howie lazily, humming a little and licking into Howie’s mouth. He was home finally, and happy to be doing nothing of real importance. He did some things with Aaron, tv things, but it was really Aaron’s gig and Nick was just along for the ride. He read a lot, but only magazines, and he spent a lot of time at Howie’s. He called Lance often, even though he could tell that Lance was annoyed when he answered the phone. By the end of the conversations Lance was relaxed, laughing along with Nick, chuckling deep in his throat. Nick thought it was a good sign and besides, he just liked talking to Lance. It was interesting to talk to someone who was in the same situation as he was. The same - but completely different - situation. Howie grabbed his boxers from the floor, pulled them on and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing one of Nick’s feet a bit and then leaning over to kiss him. “You going to come downstairs with me?” he asked against Nick’s mouth. “In a minute,” Nick said, “I want to make a phone call.” Howie nodded and Nick reached for Howie’s phone, dialing the number by memory. “Don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that.” Lance mostly only did one night things. “You’re gay, right?” Nick had said on the bench during that basketball game so many years ago. Nick was always pretty blunt as far as Lance could tell, and Lance had choked on his water when Nick asked. Nick slapped his back a little. “Pretty gay,” Lance had answered because he couldn’t see any reason to lie about it to Nick, not then, and Nick grinned. It was hard to be pretty gay and in a pop group. It wasn’t easy for the guys to date girls, but for Lance it was even harder, so mostly he just stuck to the one night things. Lance was busy, and it was easier. He wasn’t afraid of commitment or anything like that. He wasn’t Chris. It was just easier the way it was. When Nick called and asked, “What’s up?” Lance said, “I’m pretty gay,” and Nick laughed. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “I’m kinda gay too. Ish.” Lance figured that maybe Nick didn’t even remember that basketball game, it was so long ago. “I figured you might be,” he said. “So now that we got that straightened out,” Nick started, clearing his throat, “Are you alone?” His voice was lower, huskier for the last part and Lance raised an eyebrow. Usually Nick wanted to know what Lance had been up to, he wanted to hear about Freddy’s latest Russian conquests, he wanted to know if Lance had hooked up with anyone. Now it sounded like he had something else in mind. Lance looked around his apartment. He’d brought Dirk with him, a little piece of home, but he was asleep in his cage by the window. “Very much alone,” Lance said, the hint of a question in his voice. “Good,” Nick replied in his normal tone, and he laughed a little and Lance sighed. Nick added, “Howie’s here.” “Okay. Say hi to him for me.” Nick didn’t say hi. Instead he lowered his voice again and said, “Guess what I’m wearing?” “Jeans that are a little too big and faded down the center of the legs. A white tank. White socks that are discolored on the bottom from walking around without your shoes on.” Lance picked at the leaves of the plant that sat on his end table. There was silence at the other end of the line and Lance smiled a little. “No,” Nick said finally. “Sweatpants?” “Lance,” Nick sighed, “Lance, you’re supposed to say ‘nothing’. I’m wearing nothing. Or at least guess something sexy.” “Are you wearing nothing?” Lance asked, his voice low, and he was back at his original conclusion that Nick had something else in mind for the conversation. “Isn’t Howie there?” “Yes. No. Lance! You’re ruining the mood here. Howie left. He was here and I’m naked, but he left. And I told you about Howie.” Lance hummed an affirmative response. Nick had told him about Howie and Lance thought it sounded a little fucked up. They were together but now they weren’t and they were fucking, but out of love, and it made no sense to Lance whatsoever. Lance used to sleep with JC. They used to be fuck buddies, but that was it, that was where it ended and the meaningless sex didn’t come after a yearlong relationship. “Guess what I’m doing,” Nick said. “Clipping your toenails.” “Lance,” Nick said, and Lance thought he could probably listen to Nick say his name all day. Especially when he was practically moaning it. And whatever Nick was doing sounded good. Really good. Lance was pretty sure he knew. “Oh,” Nick said, surprise in his voice, and then another “Oh,” this time tinged with pleasure. Lance’s jeans weren’t as comfortable as they were at the beginning of the conversation. “Nick,” Lance said, “What -?” “Are you undressed yet?” Lance dropped the phone on the couch in an effort to get out of his pants, and he was pretty sure he heard Nick laughing. Lance did the one night thing, did it all the time, but he’d never actually done the phone sex thing. This was new. “Nick,” Lance gasped into the phone when he finally had himself situated, phone in one hand, dick in the other. “Guess where my hand is,” Nick said. Nick was big on this guessing thing, but Lance didn’t so much feel like making up an answer anymore. “Your cock,” Lance said, running a thumb over the head of his own. “No,” Nick breathed, “lower.” “Oh,” Lance managed, but Nick countered with, “No, Lance, even further.” “Oh.” Lance didn’t think he was going to last very long. Not with the image of Nick, sprawled out touching himself there, fucking himself, moaning Lance’s name. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be between those thighs, and his own hand sped up. Lance moaned into the phone, low and sexy, and Nick’s responding gasp was one of the hottest things he’d ever heard. Lance wanted his fingers there, he knew what it felt like, he remembered how Nick looked when Lance touched him there. It was burned in his brain, that image. He squeezed his balls gently, rubbed a little behind them, and promised never to bitch to Freddy or Joey about Nick’s phone calls again. “I’m so tight, Lance. Oh. So tight.” “Nick. I want –“ “Three, Lance, three. So tight. I can come just like this. Come like this for you.” “Fuck,” Lance gasped, coming over his hand, his hips lifting off the couch. He dropped the phone, let it slip from his hand as his head pushed back against the cushion, his eyes squeezed shut. He took a moment to recover, then reached for the phone, breathing heavily and asking, “Nick?” “Lance,” Nick groaned, and he sounded so far gone, so close. “Come for me,” Lance said, “Please. Come for me.” “Lance,” Nick said again. All day, Lance thought, he’d never get tired of hearing it. “I need. Oh god. I have to put down the phone.” “No, please. Leave it near you so I can hear, Nick. I want to hear.” Lance knew he was pleading. His hand gripped the phone a little harder than was normal, his breathing still heavy. “Oh,” Nick’s voice was a little more distant now, but Lance could hear all of it. He could hear his name like a mantra on Nick’s tongue, and then it became incoherent, a series of moans and whimpers, beautiful sounds that only Nick seemed to make, sounds that Lance had only heard once before, sounds that he wanted to hear again. “Nick,” Lance said, and then Nick cried out and Lance knew it was over. He was hard again. “So, did that count as sex?” Lance asked after Nick had calmed down a little. “Yeah. Wow. I think so,” Nick breathed into the phone. “So then it’s not a one time thing anymore.” “Guess not,” Nick said, paused, then added, “It probably doesn’t really count though.” “Oh.” Lance tucked the phone under his chin and went to clean up a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then?” “Yeah.” “You had phone sex in my bed,” Howie said when he walked back into the room. “I didn’t mean to,” Nick said, a little sheepishly, a happy sated smile on his face, “Sorry.” “You did mean to,” Howie grinned, “Don’t lie to me, Nicky. I knew you meant to when you said you were calling him. It’s okay.” Nick nodded. Howie was the most understanding ex-lover/fuck buddy Nick could imagine. He really couldn’t believe it sometimes, the position they were in now. They were both pretty fucked up after the break up. Nick cried a lot and threw things and Howie ate a lot of fast food and snapped at the guys for no reason. He was pretty sure that Kevin absolutely hated them both those first few weeks. Nick kind of hated them both. He definitely hated Howie. Then somehow, Nick ended up at Howie’s, and they were fighting, which was normal since the breakup, since a little before even, but they didn’t usually end up in Howie’s bed, clawing and biting and tearing clothing. It was the best sex Nick had ever had, that night, though he thought this phone sex thing came pretty close. Afterward they’d talked, a lot, and they’d fucked, a lot, and somehow had reached the conclusion that they were really best as friends. Best friends with benefits, Nick thought, and he was pretty sure that was part of a song. Maybe their song, though he couldn’t say for sure because he had no idea what the actual song was, and maybe it didn’t describe them at all. It probably didn’t. It was probably a love song, and theirs wasn’t really a love story. Or it was, but not that kind. Brian had yelled at Nick, said, “Are you guys fucking nuts? You’re going to rip each others’ hearts out again?!” and that had hurt coming from Brian, because Nick usually thought that Brian knew the right thing to do. Nick usually listened to Brian. Kevin thought it was a bad idea as well. “You’ll never move on,” he’d said. But Kevin was wrong. They were moving on, and Nick thought they’d sort of healed each other. And they were best friends again. They were moving on and better because of it. “Come on,” Howie said, palming Nick’s hip, pinching a little, “I made sandwiches.” Lance was washing dishes when he heard the buzzer. His apartment was small, mostly state of the art, but somehow Lance hadn’t noticed the absence of a dishwasher when he picked it out. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel, then again on the back of his pants, and headed for the door. Freddy was probably early. They were supposed to go out for lunch, Lance had the day off and he was looking forward to a day of relaxation. He was understandably surprised when he opened the door and it wasn’t Freddy standing there, but was Nick instead. With bags. “Hi,” Nick said, grinning. Lance thought he looked a little nervous. “I had some time off.” “I see,” Lance said, looking at the large bag by Nick’s feet, “planning on staying for a while?” Nick just smiled some more. Lance could see why people had a hard time saying no to that face. “I just talked to you this morning. You should have told me you were coming.” “I was at the airport. I wanted it to be a surprise,” Nick shrugged, playing with his fingers now. “What if I’m busy this week? What if I’m entertaining guests?” “Are you?” Nick asked, “busy.” He looked so worried now, Lance wanted to kiss that small frown away and pull him in. It pissed him off a little, that Nick could show up at his door like this, unannounced, and Lance would just let him stay. Because Lance would. Let him stay. Of course he would. But not without making one point clear. “I don’t do more than one night things,” Lance said, stepping aside so Nick could come in. “Sure,” Nick said, smiling again, and hefting his bag off the floor, “Okay.” “Lance.” Nick loved Lance’s name, loved the way it sounded, so he said it often. “Hang on, Freddy,” Lance said into the phone, turning to look at Nick. Nick grinned and pulled his shirt over his head, sprawled a little deeper into the couch, his legs spread, neck exposed. Lance coughed a little, cleared his throat, and said, “Right, so we’re canceling lunch then. I’ll um, I’ll talk to you sometime. Later. Bye.” Lance set down the phone and moved toward Nick, watching him. Nick was pretty sure he looked good, spread out like that, so he smiled a little, shyly, and beckoned Lance closer. As soon as Lance was within reach, Nick gripped his wrists, pulled Lance close so that his knees hit the edge of the couch and he mostly fell into Nick’s lap. He ran his thumbs over Lance’s wrists, over the knobs there, and it surprised him how large his own hands looked. His hands encircled Lance’s wrists completely, making Lance look small, delicate, while still retaining the solidity that Nick loved so much. Lance was watching him, one of his eyebrows raised. Nick stared back, raised Lance’s right wrist to his lips and kissed the inside of it, licked the skin, and then bit lightly, not enough to hurt at all, just enough for Lance to feel the graze of teeth. Lance gasped and moved closer, grinding his hips into Nick’s. That was a pretty good reaction, Nick thought, humming into Lance’s skin, pushing back up as Lance pushed down. He released Lance’s left hand, which immediately moved to Nick’s chest, toying with a nipple, dancing over Nick’s tattoos. Nick’s mouth moved up Lance’s arm, repeating the process, kiss, lick, bite. He bit a little harder this time and Lance again ground his hips against Nick, thrusting, and Nick moaned in time with Lance, his higher voice mingling beautifully with Lance’s low rumble. Nick reached the inside of Lance’s elbow, and thought he could stay there all day. The skin was soft, sweet, and Lance wriggled and moaned in Nick’s lap. “Nick,” he said, and Lance’s voice was so deep that Nick thought he could feel it resonate in his own chest. Nick bit again, licking over the small red mark afterward, and Lance said, “Oh. Oh god,” and pinched Nick’s nipple hard. They weren’t going to stop, Nick knew, they were going to keep going until they came like that, Lance fully clothed, Nick still in his jeans. Lance was thrusting steadily, moving against Nick with an intoxicating rhythm, and Nick was starting to think that the rub of cloth against his cock would drive him mad. He slipped a hand up the sleeve of Lance’s T-shirt, running it over Lance’s shoulder, over the muscles of his upper arm. He continued his ministrations on the inside of Lance’s elbow, small kisses, the pinch of teeth. “Lance,” Nick said against the skin. His hand was under the hem of Lance’s shirt now, on Lance’s stomach, firm beneath his fingers. Nick was a little jealous, jealous of how beautiful Lance was, how solid. It almost made Nick want to get his own personal trainer. Almost, until he looked down and saw Lance’s hand moving reverently across his own softer stomach, Lance’s lips brushing his mostly un-sculpted chest while Lance made low noises in the back of his throat. Nick released Lance’s arm to a whimpered protest. Lance whimpering was probably the single hottest thing Nick had ever heard. He wanted recordings of that to take back with him. Maybe he just wouldn’t leave. He slipped both of his hands up beneath Lance’s shirt, pressing his palms to Lance’s back and thrusting up against Lance’s body. Lance was pressed full against him, his shirt against the bare skin of Nick’s chest, his lips pressed to Nick’s throat. Nick was close, he could feel it building, and he wanted it. His hands slipped a little against Lance’s back, his fingers pressed more firmly into the skin there. He couldn’t hear anything but their heavy breathing, Lance’s moans. He thrust up once, twice more, and then cried out, gripping Lance tightly as he came, He squeezed his eyes shut hard, but saw flashes of white nonetheless. And Lance was still there, still moving, moving and Nick couldn’t take it, Lance’s tongue, the grind of his hips over Nick’s sensitive cock, but then Lance bit down hard on his shoulder and came with a groan. “God,” Lance said when he was sprawled beside Nick on the couch, both of them sweating and breathing hard. “Shit.” Nick looked down at himself, the wet patch at the front of his jeans, and then at Lance, who had a similar damp spot, and also small red marks lining one arm. “Yeah,” he said and sighed happily, “So, just drop my stuff in your room?” Lance nodded and shut his eyes. Nick was a considerate house guest. He cleaned, and sometimes when Lance got back from meetings or training or whatever he had scheduled for the day, Nick had dinner ready. Nick was a surprisingly good cook. He made pasta one night, and chicken another. Plus it was the most fantastic sex Lance could remember having in a long time. It was also the most regular sex Lance could remember having in a long time. Hell, the past week had been the most sex Lance had had in awhile. And that was saying a lot, Lance thought, because he had a lot of sex. The other parts were nice too, waking up with his face nuzzled in Nick’s chest, his hand across Nick’s belly, and so warm, burning up from the shared body heat. Falling asleep with Nick curled around him, snoring softly in his ear. Nick slipping into the shower behind Lance, surprising him with kisses up his spine. Lance didn’t think he’d like those things so much, thought they’d be annoying. And they were, a little, but mostly in a nice way. The week went by fast, it was already Thursday when Lance started thinking about the fact that Nick was leaving in three days. He only left the apartment to go to training and to pick up food. He wasn’t sure if Nick had left the apartment at all since he’d arrived. Lance mentioned sight seeing maybe, but Nick just shrugged, sucked another of Lance’s fingers into his mouth, and Lance decided that it probably didn’t matter if Nick got the full Russian experience. Lance was wiping off the kitchen table when Nick handed him the phone. “For you,” he said and walked back out of the kitchen, scratching his stomach beneath his shirt. Lance watched him go before putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?” “Was that Nick Carter answering your telephone, Bass?” Lance smiled at the sound of Chris’ voice. It was always a surprise to hear from the guys, even though they called often, and Lance treasured every phone call. “Maybe,” he said, throwing the dishcloth at the sink and walking into the living room. Nick was sprawled on the couch, watching television, and he waved Lance over to sit with him. Nick had the television remote in one hand, and his other tucked behind his head, exposing his armpit. Lance wanted to nuzzle that spot a little, but he settled for tickling and Nick lazily kicked a foot out at him before pulling Lance down. He settled onto the couch, in the vee of Nick’s spread legs, his own legs sprawled over the arm. Lance’s head was resting on Nick’s chest and Nick dropped the television remote so he could run a hand through Lance’s short hair. It was so domestic, it made Lance sick, but he nuzzled his head against Nick’s hand anyway. “What about Howie?” Chris was saying, “He and Nick have been like peanut butter and jelly for years now.” “They broke up last year, Chris. You know that. Don’t worry. And before you say anything, it’s not a rebound thing. They’ve both already rebounded,” Lance chuckled, “with each other.” “Why would I worry?” Chris asked, “It’s not like. You’re just fucking. You never get serious.” “Right,” Lance said, “Just fucking. Nothing serious.” Nick reached down and pinched Lance’s side, and Lance pushed his head back in retaliation, a half hearted head butt to Nick’s chest. “Yet,” Nick amended, and Lance rolled his eyes though Nick couldn’t see it. Later, after he’d hung up, Nick let Lance fuck him right there on the couch, and Lance thought maybe after all the action the piece of furniture had seen, he should invest in having it bronzed or cleaned or something. But he only thought about it a little, because mostly he thought about Nick beneath him, over him, around him, and he was in, in, and Nick was always so good, so tight. Lance could make Nick come like that, by thrusting just right, he could make Nick come without hardly touching him at all. It’d happened the night before and taken them both by surprise, Nick had growled, clawed at Lance’s back, left red marks. Later, Lance had looked at Nick’s fingers, but his nails were trimmed, short, and Lance thought it was always the short nails that did the most damage, provided the most pleasure. Nick spent most of Saturday afternoon packing, and then he blew Lance in the afternoon, and Lance got in some quality fingering time before Nick had to call his cab. “I’ll call you when I get back to the States,” Nick said, kissing Lance even as he was backing out the door. “Sure, okay,” Lance said, palming Nick’s ass as he turned and disappeared down the stairs. Nick didn’t see Lance again until Lance was back in the States for Challenge For the Children. Lance didn’t tell him about it, but he read a blurb in Entertainment Weekly a few weeks before and pulled a few strings to get good tickets. It was in Orlando, which was really convenient, and he convinced Kevin and Howie to go with him. “You guys should have told us you were going to be around,” Justin said. He must have spotted them during the game because he ran over as soon as he was off the court, breathing heavy and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “You could have played.” Nick didn’t really like Justin, mostly just out of principle, so he didn’t say anything, scanned the crowd for Lance instead. Kevin picked up the conversation, told Justin that it was really unexpected and Howie grinned and said, “Maybe next time.” If Nick had any authority whatsoever he would tell Kevin what he thought about Kevin’s little friendship with Justin Timberlake. They saw each other at clubs and shit a few times and they sort of hung out, apparently. It had been coincidence, mostly, that Kevin and Justin kept running into one another. It wasn't a planned friendship, but it felt an awful lot like betrayal to Nick. Howie and AJ, they could be friends with whoever they wanted, Nick didn’t mind. But Brian and Kevin were Nick’s, and Nick could be a little territorial. Especially when he read in a transcript of a radio interview that Justin had been giving Kevin tips on going solo. Before Kevin had even said anything about it to any of them, Nick read that Justin was telling Kevin he could be the next Chris Isaak or some shit. Nick didn’t like Justin out of the mere principle of the thing. Nick spotted Lance staring at them and made his way over, and Howie followed, though Nick wanted to tell him to stay and make sure Timberlake didn’t plant any other ingenious ideas in Kevin’s head. “Nick,” Lance said, when they got close enough, “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “Neither did we,” Howie said. Lance reached out a hand, and Nick moved closer, he could tell the hand was moving toward his stomach. Lance really liked his stomach, but Lance pulled back before he actually touched. “Lance wants me to stop sleeping with you,” he said, turning to Howie, who looked appropriately surprised. Nick really loved Howie sometimes. Still. “I do not,” Lance protested, “I never said that.” “Okay,” Howie said, shrugging. “Okay?” Lance asked, looking at Nick with one of his quirky eyebrows practically reaching his hairline. Nick mimicked Howie’s shrug and Howie said, “Sure. No problem,” and wandered off to talk to Chris. Nick set up a meeting place for afterward, a place to meet Lance, and then let Kevin drag him away to sign autographs for a group of waiting girls who seemed more excited about their unexpected appearance than about the game itself. “I didn’t really just break it off with Howie right then, you know,” Nick said between soft kisses up Lance’s back. “No?” Lance asked and wondered why Nick always had to talk so fucking much when they really had better things to do. It’d been a long time, and they had catching up to do of course, but really, first thing was first. “No, we stopped a while ago. He’s seeing someone,” Nick said, his tongue swiping across the back of Lance’s neck. “He’s seeing someone, though I’m not allowed to tell you who.” “It’s okay, Nick,” Lance said, “You don’t need to tell me.” “You’ll probably find out eventually, I’m just not allowed to tell you.” Nick was moving south again, licking his way down Lance’s spine. Lance thought Nick was a big tease, with all the talking, and he probably was, he probably knew it. “Yeah,” Lance said, low in his chest, an invitation, and Nick took it with a little moan, higher but just as sexy, and he finally moved those lips to exactly where Lance wanted them. “How’s it working out?” Kevin asked, when Nick dropped by to pick up some papers. “What?” “Lance. Howie said you were trying to start something there. Why didn’t you just tell me that yourself instead of making up that bullshit about wanting to do your own charity basketball game? I wouldn’t have made you take all those notes.” “Oh, yeah. Um. I don’t know. He hasn’t put a restraining order on me. The sex is good,” Nick shrugged. Kevin nodded. Nick thought that the best thing about Kevin, the thing that Nick loved most, was the fact that underneath the hard uptight exterior, Kevin was one of the most understanding patient people Nick knew. He had to be to put up with Nick as a teenager. Nick could tell Kevin anything, anything, and Kevin would support him. Sometimes Nick forgot that and would go to the others first. Talk to Howie or Brian or AJ, and Nick knew that it hurt Kevin a little. He knew that Kevin sometimes felt left out because he was the “older brother” and it was his job to bitch about their mistakes. Nick promised to try to remember that first and foremost, Kevin was one of his best friends. “If you need any help,” Kevin said, “you know, a shoulder to lean on, seduction plans, or whatever –“ Nick laughed. “I think I’ve got the seduction part under control. But yeah, if I need a sidekick in my evil plots, you’re first on my list.” Kevin was always willing to be a sidekick. Not for anyone, but for one of them, definitely. It was mostly just that no one ever asked him. Lance only did the one night thing and so he didn’t really think anything of hooking up with a tall blond German named Achim. Achim spoke English relatively well and he had big blue eyes and high eyebrows. He had a nice nose too, a strong nose, but Lance liked Nick’s better. Lance really liked Nick’s nose. In hindsight, Lance figured he should have known when Nick called him and told Lance that he was at an airport, he should have guessed where Nick was going. But hindsight was 20/20 and Lance wore contacts, so he shouldn’t have been so shocked when he opened the door and once again found Nick at his doorstep. Achim had chosen that very moment to call to him from the bed, and his accent was so thick that Lance couldn’t even understand what he said. Nick had looked at him questioningly, he’d known right away. Lance had answered the door in his boxers, not even bothering to look through the peephole. Lance needed to get his act together. Lance was undoubtedly an asshole. That much he knew. “How long will you be here?” Lance asked, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick had been lying on the couch staring at the ceiling since Achim left. As far as Lance could tell he hadn’t moved since Lance had gone to take a shower, but he took the beer that Lance offered him. “I was going to stay a few weeks,” Nick shrugged, “but I forgot that I have recording to do with Brian, so I’ll only be staying a few days.” Nick ended up staying for four days, but it wasn’t like the last time. Nick slept on the couch the first night, shrugging Lance off when Lance suggested that he could have the bed. He didn’t cook for Lance, and he left his clothes lying around Lance’s living room. Lance decided that he deserved it. He knew he did. Lance had just pulled up the blanket when Nick padded into his room, climbing into bed beside him. Lance tried not to get excited. Nick hadn’t said anything, but it was pretty clear to Lance that he wasn't getting any during this visit. He broke it off with Achim. It really was only a one night thing. Lance had planned to break it off all along. He’d hoped it would just go away, but Achim called him two days after their little episode, and of course, it happened to be Nick that answered the phone. “It’s that German guy,” Nick said. Achim cried when Lance told him that it was a fling and Lance thought that Germans were a little strange. Lance had sort of expected Nick to cry a little. Nick seemed like the crying sort to Lance. He had seen Nick cry on television when AJ went to rehab. Lance figured he must not hold the same place as AJ. He didn’t expect Nick to stay four days. He didn’t expect Nick to act like they were friends. He expected anger and hurt, but Nick was there, he was amiable, and only a little messy, and by the third night he was climbing into Lance’s bed. “Nick?” Lance asked after Nick had settled in, on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. “I rolled off the damn couch,” Nick said. “Ok,” Lance sighed and settled onto his back beside Nick. He was quiet for awhile, but it was pretty clear that Nick was still awake beside him. Lance thought about Achim and JC and then space and acting and producing and Nick, and when Nick stirred beside him Lance said, “What are you going to do when it’s over?” “I’m sleeping,” Nick said. “No you aren’t,” Lance rolled on his side to face Nick. It was kind of nice that although things were awkward, it really did seem like they were mostly still friends. He could see Nick looking at him, squinting a little in the dark. “I’m going to sing,” Nick said finally. “Even after, you know, it ends?” “Yeah. I want to sing.” “Oh,” Lance said. “That’s why I’m starting now. I need to make sure I can do it on my own. Just in case, I guess.” “What about the rest of you. The rest of the Backstreet Boys. What will they do?” Lance knew he was probably being nosy. Backstreet Boys’ business was none of his business, but Nick just shrugged and looked like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. We all just want to sing.” “Even after it’s over, y’all’ll just want to sing?” Lance knew he wouldn’t be singing after Nsync. “Yeah. Why else would we do it?” They’d talked half the night away and when Lance woke up to his alarm in the morning, Nick had a long leg thrown over both of Lance’s, his arm around Lance’s waist. When Nick’s four days were up, he smiled and hugged Lance, but didn’t promise to call when he got back to the States. “Sure, okay,” Lance said to his closed door. He’d thought he knew what he was doing. He was pretty sure now that he didn’t. “Lance cheated on me,” Nick said when Howie opened the door to let him in. He hadn’t even bothered to go home first, had instead directed the taxi directly from the airport to Howie’s apartment. “Nicky,” Howie frowned. “I mean. I know, it’s not like we were, you know.” “Are you okay?” Howie led Nick into the living room. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Nick sat on the couch. “I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t sleeping with you while I was with Lance. I know that. So it’s not like Lance and I, were, you know. But I wanted us to be. I want us to be. Lance is really hot and the sex,” Nick looked at Howie while he spoke. “I know. I know what you’re going to say, but there’s more, you know? It’s not just that. And he cheated on me.” “Nick,” Howie said again, this time sitting so close he was practically in Nick’s lap. Nick snuggled into Howie’s side, scrunching down on the couch so that he could rest his head against Howie’s shoulder. “No really,” he said, his voice muffled a little in Howie’s shirt, “I’m really fine. He only cheated on me a little. He didn’t hit me or steal my TV. Or my dogs.” Nick really missed his dogs. “You’re still gonna try to make it work?” “I guess.” Nick still wanted Lance. He knew that much. He wasn’t going to just quit. And he wasn’t mad, or all that hurt, not really, he just mostly wished he hadn’t had to see it. “Want me to talk to Chris?” Howie asked, and Nick knew that he was trying to be helpful but didn’t really know how. “No,” Nick said, “please, don’t.” He couldn’t even imagine the kind of advice Chris would have for him. He didn’t know Chris that well, but he knew him enough to know that he had a pretty skewed vision of how a relationship should work. “Why don’t you just wait and see if he comes back?” “I don’t think he will.” “You’re impatient. Wait and see.” Nick had stopped calling Lance, so rather than sit around waiting for his cellphone to ring, Lance called JC. “Nick has me all sorts of fucked up,” Lance said when JC asked how he was. “You’ve got yourself all sorts of fucked up,” JC answered, “You spend too much time with Chris. We all do. It rubs off.” “I cheated on him,” Lance said. “We weren’t even dating but I cheated on him and I feel like shit.” “How was it cheating if you weren’t dating?” “That’s the thing. I think maybe I want to date him. I don’t date people, C. I’ve never been in a relationship. Not a real one.” “Of course you have,” JC said, “We were together for two years.” “Right, but –“ “I know you don’t think it was anything, Lance, but it totally was. We were exclusive and we love each other and I practically, though unofficially, moved into your house.” “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Lance knew how to act in most situations. He’d rehearsed and practiced and perfected, but he hadn’t practiced for this and it didn’t really surprise him that he’d already fucked it up. “Call him, Lance. Quit freaking out. You’re a great boyfriend, you just don’t realize it. So call him and straighten things out.” “I don’t call him,” Lance said, “I never have.” “That’s why you should.” He held off the first week, though everything had mostly seemed fine when Nick was there. Nick still didn’t call though and Lance started to miss it. So Lance called Nick. He didn’t know the phone number but it didn’t take him long to notice that Nick had taped it to Lance’s fridge. Lance wasn’t sure how long it had been there. Nick sounded shocked to hear from Lance. He’d practically shouted in surprise the first time Lance called. And even though Lance called on a regular basis, Nick still sounded surprised every time. “Lance?!” he’d say when he picked up, and Lance would laugh and say, “Yeah. It’s me.” Once Lance called and waited for Nick to answer, waited even longer until Nick was ready to hang up, thinking it was a prank or something. Then Lance said, “Oh my god. Nick? Nick Carter?!” and Nick had immediately started laughing. They hadn’t been able to talk for several minutes due to the wheezing. It actually sounded like Nick had been reduced to tears, though Lance doubted he was really that funny. Even after that Nick still sounded surprised. Lance thought about the phone sex a lot too. He couldn’t help it. They’d only done it that one time, but it was still pretty fresh in Lance’s head. He thought Nick’s voice probably triggered it and then he’d start thinking about Nick’s nose, and Nick’s stomach, and Nick’s teeth against his wrist, and it invariably led to Nick’s cock. There wasn’t much he could do about it by then. He didn’t tell Nick that he was jerking off while they were on the phone. Instead he told Nick about how he and Freddy had gone to an “American” diner. Freddy was unhappy with the service so he proceeded to eat all the little jellies like they were Jell-o shots. Freddy tended to make Lance miss Joey. Once he asked Nick what he was wearing. He was joking mostly, but he lowered his voice and sort of growled it a little, all the while sitting on the infamous couch and stroking his erection. Nick paused and then he laughed into the phone and hung up on Lance. Lance dropped the phone and brought himself off before pulling himself together and calling JC for additional support. Nick didn’t think that Lance would call him. It wasn’t part of Nick’s plan. Nick was going to lay low for awhile, pull himself together, and let Kevin tell him what he should do next. Howie had told Nick to wait for Lance to come to him, but Nick thought that he’d have to be the one going back. Nick wasn’t mad, he couldn’t be. They weren’t exclusive, he’d been with Howie, and besides that, the German looked exactly like Nick except that his nose was bigger and he looked like he worked out regularly. Nick was mostly just upset because he’d thought they’d moved past that stage. He’d thought they almost had something. Now he thought that maybe Chris was right when he told Nick that Lance wouldn’t settle, couldn’t settle down. Howie had ended up telling Chris about it even after Nick had asked him not to, and he’d just mostly brushed Chris off at the time, but Chris would know, wouldn’t he? Chris knew Lance a hell of a lot better than Nick did. Still, Nick figured he’d give it one more shot, try it once more, and if it didn’t work out that was fine. It would hurt, but Nick had tried and it had been more than one night and Nick was pretty sure it had meant something. It had to him. Nick still had at least a week of waiting before Plan B (which was basically just resuming Plan A) went into action, when Lance called him. And Lance continued to call him regularly after the first call. Nick always expected the calls to stop, Lance to realize that he was mostly off the hook and go back to his space training and one night things, but Lance didn’t stop calling. Nick sort of suspected that Lance was fooling around with him on the phone. He thought at first that it was maybe that German, blowing Lance while Lance talked to Nick or something. Nick knew that was sort of ridiculous, but he’d thought about it once. Thought about having Howie blow him while he was talking to Lance. He’d thought it would be hot, but he chickened out when Howie’s mouth dropped open in disbelief and he said, “You want what?!” So Nick hadn’t done it, but he’d thought about doing it and therefore he couldn’t put it past Lance and his blond look alike. Nick decided not to bring it up. Mostly because he didn’t want to know. Nick was telling Lance about AJ’s new car and he could tell that Lance wasn’t really paying attention. “You should see the stereo system in this thing,” Nick said, picking a piece of sock fuzz from between his toes. He’d expected Lance to grunt or something, make some sort of sound of acknowledgment, but instead Lance lowered his voice and said, “What are you wearing?” It sounded like a bad porn or a prank phone call and Nick was stunned for a moment. He was in fact wearing a dirty t-shirt and his boxers, and was unsexily picking lint from beneath his toes. He didn’t know how to respond, and he wasn’t ready to play along. Finally he went with his first instinct. He laughed and hung up on Lance. Lance came out and said it a few days later. “Do you want to try that phone sex thing again?” Lance was usually pretty confident, Nick thought, but he didn’t sound so confident then. “No,” Nick said, “I’m not doing that anymore.” “Howie?” “No. I told you. Howie’s seeing someone. It was just convenient before.” Nick heard Lance sigh a little, and he could almost see Lance’s frustration. “Nick. It was just convenience for me too.” “Yeah?” Nick asked. He knew what Lance was talking about and he’d already forgiven him, but he asked anyway. “Yeah.” “Okay,” Nick said. He thought that maybe everything Lance did was out of convenience. Lance was supposed to go visit Justin in LA for the first part of the week, Joey in New York for the second. It had been planned for months, Lance’s itinerary carefully recorded in his palm pilot. Then JC had called and things had gone to hell. “Go to Orlando,” JC had said, and when Lance said, “I’m going to LA,” JC pretended like he didn’t hear and said, “Go to Orlando.” “And do what? Stay with you? Stay with Chris? I’m supposed to visit Justin, Jayce.” “Stay with Nick. I was thinking and you know, he keeps dropping in on you unannounced. I bet he’d like it if you dropped in on him.” “I don’t want to. I hate people dropping in unannounced. It’s not polite.” Lance heard familiar laughter in the background, followed by a child’s uncontrollable giggling. “C? Where are you? Is that Joey?” “Yeah,” JC said, “I’m in New York. Joey says go to Orlando. He and Brianna will fly down and visit before you go back.” “I’m supposed to visit Justin,” Lance said stubbornly. It was bad enough he was regularly calling Nick, he didn’t need to spend his vacation at Nick’s house. Having all kinds of hot sex. “Justin probably won’t care, right? Too much?” Lance asked, already deleting large chunks of his vacation itinerary. There was shuffling at the other end of the phone and then Joey said, “Nah. We’ll take care of J. Orlando, baby. Get there. I’ll see you at the end of the week.” And that was how Lance came to be sitting at the airport in Moscow, Freddy and his real bodyguard sitting a few rows away. Lance had cursed his friends’ meddling, but the pull of all kinds of hot sex was just too much. He’d done some research and found out that Nick didn’t even live in Orlando, he lived in Tampa. He tried to call Chris, tell him that he was going to be in town after all, but Chris wasn’t answering his phone, so Lance left a message and called Nick instead. “Lance,” Nick said, still not able to hide the surprise in his voice. “Hey,” Lance said. He heard some muffled talking and then Nick said “I’ll be back,” to someone. “Did I call at a bad time? Do you have guests?” “No, no,” Nick said, breathing a little heavier. He’d probably just run up the stairs. “It’s just Howie. And um, Chris.” “Chris?” “Yeah.” “As in Chris, Chris? Kirkpatrick, Chris? My Chris?” Lance couldn’t figure out why in the world Chris would be at Nick Carter’s house. As far as he knew the two weren’t even friends. Nick laughed a little, “yeah.” “Chris didn’t answer my call because he was hanging out with you?” “Well, with Howie more so than me.” “Oh,” Lance said, getting it finally. “oh.” That made a little more sense, though not much. “Yeah.” “wow.” “Yeah,” Nick said again, “And for future reference. I suck at keeping secrets. Just so you know.” “I’ll remember that. Thanks.” An announcement sounded over the loudspeaker and Lance listened to it, but it wasn’t for his flight. Nick heard it too. “Where are you?” “I’m at the airport,” Lance said and left it at that. Kevin dropped Nick off late in the evening. It had been a long day, and Nick had forgotten what writing a song with Kevin was like. Kevin liked to talk for an hour, maybe write a line, bond for another two hours, come up with a rhyme for “live”, then maybe jump in the pool and bond some more, then call his wife while Nick watched television and ate potato chips. The song was turning out really well though. Nick thought it could even be a single. Maybe the first. If they ever finished the damn thing. He tried to wave good-bye to Kevin, but Kevin got out of the car and hugged him, and Nick thought he’d definitely had enough bonding for awhile. When Kevin finally drove off, Nick picked up his backpack and trudged up the front steps and into the house. He made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge and checking his messages, thinking that maybe Lance had called. No messages though, except for one from his mom that he chose to ignore. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the hallway and headed toward the living room. He was leaning over to pick up the remote when Lance said “Hi,” and Nick jumped, dropping his can of soda on the hard wood floor and spinning around. “Fuck,” he said, staring at Lance, and then the soda, and then back at Lance, “Fuck, you scared the fucking shit out of me, you fuck.” Lance smiled. “Way to greet a guy,” he said and then he headed out of the room, Nick guessed to grab some paper towels, and he thought he heard Lance stumble over his shoes in the hall and curse under his breath. Nick stared at the soda pooling on the floor, thought about using his shirt to start mopping it up, but then just decided to wait for Lance to come back instead. Lance was there. Lance was getting him paper towels, in Nick’s house. In Florida. It had briefly crossed Nick’s mind when Lance said that he was at the airport that maybe Lance would be flying to Nick, but then Nick remembered that Lance had said something about Justin and Joey and LA and he’d pushed the thought out of his mind. And now Lance was getting him paper towels, not in LA at all. “Lance,” Nick said when Lance came back with a bunch of wadded up paper in his hands. Lance handed Nick some of the towels and together they cleaned up the mess that Nick had made. Really Lance cleaned up most of it, because Nick had graduated from staring at the spill to staring at Lance. Lance smiled at him, but Nick just kept watching. Lance looked good, kneeling on the floor, his brow furrowed a tad in concentration. He looked really good, and Nick reached out and touched his fingers to the patch of white skin exposed where Lance’s T-shirt had been pushed up a little. His fingers were cold and a little wet with soda, so Lance jumped and then he smiled at Nick again, laughing when Nick flicked at Lance’s underwear where it peeked out from the top of his jeans. “How’d you get in here?” Nick asked, not moving his hand from Lance’s back. When Lance wadded up the wet paper towels and stood up to throw them away, Nick stood with him, keeping his hand where it was. “Howie and Chris were here when I arrived,” Lance said, looking back over his shoulder as Nick followed him into the kitchen. “You’ve just been going through my stuff all evening then?” Nick slipped his arms around Lance and pushed himself up against Lance’s back, making it difficult for Lance to walk the ten more steps to the wastebasket, but he made it, laughing, and tossed out the wet towels before running his hands over Nick’s wrists. “Pretty much, yeah,” Lance said, “I didn’t know you collected beanie babies.” “You were in the basement?” Nick asked, a little surprised. He’d been kidding about the going through his stuff thing. “Chris blew a fuse,” Lance explained, “I went down to help Howie fix it. And hey, I used to collect them too. Had to do something with all the stuffed animals we got thrown at us.” “What happened to LA? Justin?” Nick asked, “How long do I get to keep you?” “I’m yours for a week,” Lance turned in Nick’s arms and kissed his jawline, nuzzled at Nick’s neck a little. “Yours in the sense that I only do one night things, of course.” Nick stiffened, but decided to ignore Lance’s bachelor status for the time being and instead said, “Right,” and pulled Lance upstairs. “Why wasn’t I allowed to know about Howie and Chris?” Lance asked later, his head against Nick’s chest. He’d been thinking about it ever since his brain cleared from the incredibly incapacitating orgasm of half an hour before. Everyone else must know, so Lance couldn’t really figure out why they kept it from him. “I’m the only one that didn’t know, right?” Nick shrugged against him. “I think so. I don’t know. It was Chris. He’s weird, I think. I don’t know where you guys found him.” “Yeah.” “He said something about me not telling you because he didn’t want the idea of him settling down to mess with your ideals. Like he’s your fucking role model or something,” Nick paused, “Please tell me that guy is not your role model, Lance. I’ll lend you Kevin if you want.” Lance laughed. “No, seriously. You can borrow him. As long as you promise not to give him tips on going solo or leaving us or anything. Anyway, it was really tempting to tell you. I want your ideals messed with,” Nick said and his hand slipped lower on Lance’s stomach. “You did tell me,” Lance pointed out. “Yeah, but you would have found out in a few hours anyway.” “Right. So looks like you’re off the hook. I pretended to be surprised and everything.” Lance had jumped, mostly because he’d sort of been looking up when someone answered the door, up to where Nick’s head should have appeared and so Howie scared the shit out of him. “I’d already told them that you knew. So nice try. You probably looked like an idiot,” Nick said and pinched Lance’s arm. Lance thought Nick was probably right. He did act overly surprised even after the initial jumpiness at Howie answering the door. Lance thought that he sucked as an actor. “Hey, once you get past a threesome, is it considered an orgy? Like, does a foursome exist?” “Nick,” Lance said warily. Nick could sleep with as many of his bandmates as he wanted, that was fine, but Lance really would rather stay out of it. Lance would really rather Nick stayed out of it as well. “What?” Nick asked, “I’m just wondering.” Nick was getting pretty sick of Lance’s insistence on being single. It seemed like complete bullshit to Nick, since they’d pretty much been as together as they could be all summer. And it made him wonder how many more Achims there really were that he just didn’t know about. Nick decided that he hated Achim. “I don’t think it’s going to work,” Nick told AJ and Brian when they came over to coerce him into golfing. “Why not?” Brian asked, pulling some lemonade from the refrigerator and pouring three glasses. “I mean, I think he likes me, a little anyway. I know I was driving him nuts in the beginning and he might have hated me even, I’m pretty sure I’ve grown on him since then.” “Like fungus,” AJ snorted. “He didn’t hate you,” Brian said. “He might have. You don’t know.” “He didn’t.” Brian was stubborn like that. It drove Nick nuts, because how the hell would Brian know anyway? He just assumed that no one could hate Nick, because he loved Nick. Nick thought it was pretty ridiculous and was sure that there were a lot of people that hated him, and it was entirely possible that Lance had once been one of those people. “Plus, like, I want a relationship, right?” “You always do,” AJ said, taking a large sip of the lemonade and rolling a golf ball around the table beneath his palm. “Right, I do. But I’m pretty sure Lance doesn’t do that.” “Maybe he’ll make an exception.” “Maybe,” Nick said doubtfully. “So, you don’t want to golf with us?” AJ asked. “No,” Nick said, “Lance is upstairs.” “He’s here?!” Brian nearly choked on an ice cube. “Yeah,” Nick said, “he’s on vacation, so he came here. I just don’t know if I can do it anymore. It’s. Howie suddenly seems like he was easy.” “Wow,” AJ said, “that’s pretty impressive.” Lance was still mostly asleep when Nick woke up, kissed him, and headed downstairs. He stayed in bed for awhile, sniffing at Nick’s sheets and thinking that maybe he could deal with the relationship thing. Chris could do it. Hell, Joey’d even gotten back with Kelly. Maybe Lance could do it too. And if he was going to try, it might as well be with Nick. It was nice, being with Nick. Not just the sex, but all the little annoying things, the snoring and the cuddling. Lance even liked Nick’s ugly tattoos. “What are these supposed to be?” Lance had said, poking the paw prints on Nick’s chest, and when Nick had mumbled something about Blackfoot Indians, Lance laughed. He stopped when Nick frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to cover up the tattoos. “Nick, Nick, I’m just kidding. Come on, don’t do that.” He pulled Nick’s arms away and put them on his waist instead, leaning down to nuzzle Nick’s chest. Lance always thought that tattoos might taste different, but they never did, it was all just Nick, delicious and wonderful. Lance heard the door downstairs, he heard voices, and he thought he recognized one of them as AJ. He figured he better make himself presentable, just in case, so Lance climbed out of bed, pulling on his clothes from the night before. He was pretty sure his bag was still somewhere downstairs, so they would have to do. He washed his face and ran wet hands through his hair and then walked quietly down the stairs. He was about to walk into the kitchen, say hi, something, but he stopped when he heard Nick talking. Lance wasn’t really surprised that they were talking about him. He knew he shouldn’t, but despite any protest to the contrary, Lance was nosy. The shades in the living room were still drawn and it was dark and quiet, so Lance sat softly on the arm of the couch and listened. He jumped a little when Nick told Brian that he was upstairs, and he thought about going back up then, not tell them that he was awake at all, but he chanced it and stayed for the last bit of the conversation. “He’s on vacation, so he came here. I’m just not sure if I can do it anymore,” Nick said, and Lance thought, Fuck, and turned on his heel, heading back up the stairs. Of course it would go that way, of course it would. If he’d just held off, gone to visit Justin, he wouldn’t be in this mess. It would have been business as usual for Lance Bass and he and Nick would have phased into good friends. It was safe, it was easy, it was the way Lance did things and Nick had fucked it up and then tried to fuck him over too. Fuck him over in the sense that Lance had to make a decision and fast, and it was a decision that he wasn’t sure he wanted up to him. Lance peeled of his clothes and climbed back into Nick’s bed and gave serious consideration to strangling JC. Nick trudged back upstairs after AJ and Brian finally left for their game of golf. He puttered around the bedroom, not picking things up, because Nick liked a little clutter in his life, but mostly just trying to make a little noise to see if Lance was awake. When Lance didn’t move Nick stopped poking at things and instead stood quietly over the bed, watching Lance sleep. Lance’s face was resting on his arm, Lance’s legs curled up beneath the sheets. His eyelids fluttered against his cheeks and Nick smiled a little but didn’t move. It was really too bad that Lance had an intensely delusional fear of relationships. Nick thought they could probably have been great. He was about to strip out of his clothing, climb back in bed with Lance and waste the rest of the day away, when he saw one of Lance’s pale green eyes open. Nick grinned. “Faker,” he said, and palmed Lance’s cheek. Howie called and said that he and Chris were coming by for dinner and Lance grumbled about the number of guests that Nick entertained. “What the hell?” he said, coming out of the shower, “Don’t they ever leave you alone?” “Do your guys leave you alone?” Nick countered. “No,” Lance admitted, climbing into Nick’s lap. He felt sort of like a schmuck still, doing cheesy things like that, but then he really couldn’t think of a better place to be than straddling Nick, so he decided to push the schmuckiness of it all aside. “What are you making for dinner?” Nick shrugged, “Pizza?” Lance laughed and kissed Nick’s mouth, but Nick did in fact end up ordering pizza. After dinner they sat in the living room, drinking some type of concoction that Nick had made out of rum and some random fruit juices. He said it was an ode to the Caribbean, and it didn’t taste bad exactly, but Nick probably shouldn’t quit his day job. Lance must have been giving off couple-y vibes or something, emitting some type of Nsync detectable pheromone that he didn’t know about, because the first chance he got Chris leaned over to him conspiratorially. “Don’t do it, man,” he whispered, “retain the bachelor-hood.” But Chris only knew how to stage whisper so of course both Nick and Howie heard him and he received light smacks from both of them. “Ow,” Chris said, rubbing the back of his neck where Nick had also pinched a little for good measure, “See what happens when you start hanging out with Backstreet Boys?” Lance laughed and Chris yanked on his ear, and Lance couldn’t believe how much he’d missed him while he was in Russia. He missed them all more than he ever thought he would, and he couldn’t wait until Joey flew down to visit in a few days. Howie and Chris left late into the night and Lance had to drag a tired and intoxicated Nick up the stairs and to the bed. They helped each other undress, and Lance thought it was pathetic how well they worked. It shouldn’t be possible. And then Nick climbed into bed beside Lance, snuggled into him and said, “Maybe your role model is right.” “What?” Lance asked, pushing his nose behind Nick’s ear. “’Retain the bachelor-hood’, or whatever the hell he said. Maybe he’s right after all. I don’t think it’s working.” “Nick,” Lance started. “I think we should just maybe be friends or something, you know? That’s what you want, right?” Lance kissed Nick’s neck and then pulled away to look at him. Nick was wide-eyed, much more awake than he’d been when Lance had dragged him up the stairs. Lance knew what Nick wanted. It was obvious, though perhaps unfounded, from the start. Nick wanted more than meaningless sex, and despite Lance’s intentions, Nick had already gotten that much. But Nick also wanted a relationship, someone to love, someone to love him. Lance didn’t think he’d ever really know why Nick had thought he’d be a good candidate, they hadn’t really even known each other when it’d all started and Lance was notorious when it came to flings. Even Lance could admit that he was something of a slut. “I only do one night things,” Lance said. Nick rolled his eyes, and tried to pull away. “I know. Boy, do I know. We can stop reminding ourselves of the fact anytime you want.” “But you know, what if I still do the one night thing. But I only do it with you?” Lance wasn’t sure when he first started seeing it Nick’s way. He knew it was before he wanted to admit, but he thought he could probably blame Achim. “No more Jochens or whoever? No big blond Germans?” Nick asked, and Lance thought that perhaps they shared a brain. Sharing a brain with Nick Carter was a pretty scary thought, despite all of Lance’s recent revelations, so he hoped not. “Nope. No Igors or Dmitris, either.” “What about Freddy?” “What about him?” “Well, you’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Lance’s mouth dropped open and he rolled away from Nick. “What?! No!” “Oh,” Nick said, moving so that he was looking down at Lance. “Why would you think that?” Lance could think of absolutely nothing that would have given Nick that idea. “Lance,” Nick touched his chest a little as he said his name, “The whole world thinks that. I thought he was your Howie or something.” “They do not,” Lance said, his voice catching a little when Nick pinched his left nipple. “They do. They think that ‘bodyguard’ is just like a code or something.” Lance couldn’t believe it. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Freddy was his friend, sure, and he was more a friend than a bodyguard, definitely. But a code word? Lance’s fuck-buddy? Lance liked to think he had better taste than that. And he was pretty sure he was ruined for the night. It’d be pretty difficult to get it up after that lovely image. “So what you’re saying, proposing, is like a relationship of one night things?” Nick asked, changing the subject and sliding his hand lower on Lance’s chest. “Yeah,” Lance said, watching Nick watch him. He was suddenly afraid that Nick wouldn’t go for it, would change his mind or something. “We both win,” Nick said and slid his hand down, past Lance’s cock, which was suddenly having no problems functioning whatsoever. Nick’s other hand pulled one of Lance’s arms up and over his head, gripping at the wrist. Nick kissed Lance’s mouth, licked at his teeth, and Lance barely managed to moan out a “Right,” in response when Nick paused to let them catch their breath. Nick moved away from Lance’s mouth, kissing the inside of his arm. “Fuck,” Lance gasped when he felt the scrape of teeth at the same instant as the tip of Nick’s finger pushed inside. “Works for me,” Nick said. |