Fic
(Pairingless, but written with basez in mind)
His hands tell of fading youth, wrinkled with time and experience; his knuckles more finely lined than those of the young. His pianist’s fingers are still long, elegant with immaculate talent; his skin is drawn tightly over flesh, and scattered, thin trails of blue smudge the back of his hands.
You thumb skates familiarly across his fingers, and he responds immediately to your touch, his hand curling affectionately into yours.
Your mama’s always said that hands tell many stories. And it’s obvious that his hands, and he himself, have known love for a long time. You smile.
So have you.
balcony; dreamlike; camouflage; fiord; derail
It was dreamlike, almost surreal, when the crowd surged forward, screaming his name, arms outstretched, tears streaming down their faces. Justin stood on the balcony of his hotel room, waving. They could probably create a fiord with their tears, Justin thought humorlessly, what with Lonnie and Dre being the valleys and all.
He felt a little mortified to tell the truth. And a little like Michael Jackson without the kid, and the stupid stunts.
Justin laughed a little at his thoughts, and then shook his head. God only knew he wasn’t going to start scaring his fans off by laughing at nothing. He gave them another huge grin, and waved wildly, smirking at some of the signs which read ‘Justin, I wanna have your baby!’
One would expect more creativity over time.
“Hey, girls, thanks for coming out tonight.” He called down to them, and their screaming was derailed by the simple fact that he was actually addressing them. Funny how that made him actually sound important. “But it’s really late, and there’s a concert tomorrow. So I’m going to turn in now, and I think it’s also time for y’all to go home and get some rest, and get your pretty selves ready for the time of your life tomorrow night!”
There was another loud round of cheering.
Justin sighed. Sometimes things were just too easy. “Peace out,” he smiled, and then turned to head back into the room, where it was peaceful. And silent. And he could actually hear himself think.
But then he caught sight of a familiar face. The only one he’d want to see out of his horde of screaming fangirls, camouflaged by the night, and the crowd of wailing, hormone-crazed teens.
Lance took a step forward when he saw Justin’s jaw drop, guessing the younger man had seen him. “Hey, J,” he shouted up, and suddenly everything was quiet as everyone turned to look at him.
There was a hush, and then all hell broke loose. “Oh my god! That’s LANCE!”
Security was there in an instant, and the girls were parted so Lance could walk to the hotel doors without getting himself murdered. The blonde was smirking to himself, even as Justin ran down the flights of steps to receive him.
“Lance, you. You crazy fucker! You could have gotten *killed*!”
Lance laughed, batting Justin’s worried hands away. “But I wasn’t.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “That was *not* funny. You can’t do that again. Ever. I mean it.”
Lance shook his head, “I won’t. As long as you don’t give me reason to. What the hell did you mean by performing everywhere in American but where I was hanging? Hmm? How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Those photos you did for that porno photoshoot were really good.”
“You saw those?” Lance actually looked like he was about to blush.
“Yeah, I did. I really liked what I saw, by the way.”
Lance grinned. “Well, now you’ve got the real thing 3d.”
“It would be really wasteful if we didn’t… make good use of it.”
Lance was already dragging the younger man towards the elevator, the dying screams of the fans outside fading with their ringing laughter.
His hands tell of fading youth, wrinkled with time and experience; his knuckles more finely lined than those of the young. His pianist’s fingers are still long, elegant with immaculate talent; his skin is drawn tightly over flesh, and scattered, thin trails of blue smudge the back of his hands.
You thumb skates familiarly across his fingers, and he responds immediately to your touch, his hand curling affectionately into yours.
Your mama’s always said that hands tell many stories. And it’s obvious that his hands, and he himself, have known love for a long time. You smile.
So have you.
balcony; dreamlike; camouflage; fiord; derail
It was dreamlike, almost surreal, when the crowd surged forward, screaming his name, arms outstretched, tears streaming down their faces. Justin stood on the balcony of his hotel room, waving. They could probably create a fiord with their tears, Justin thought humorlessly, what with Lonnie and Dre being the valleys and all.
He felt a little mortified to tell the truth. And a little like Michael Jackson without the kid, and the stupid stunts.
Justin laughed a little at his thoughts, and then shook his head. God only knew he wasn’t going to start scaring his fans off by laughing at nothing. He gave them another huge grin, and waved wildly, smirking at some of the signs which read ‘Justin, I wanna have your baby!’
One would expect more creativity over time.
“Hey, girls, thanks for coming out tonight.” He called down to them, and their screaming was derailed by the simple fact that he was actually addressing them. Funny how that made him actually sound important. “But it’s really late, and there’s a concert tomorrow. So I’m going to turn in now, and I think it’s also time for y’all to go home and get some rest, and get your pretty selves ready for the time of your life tomorrow night!”
There was another loud round of cheering.
Justin sighed. Sometimes things were just too easy. “Peace out,” he smiled, and then turned to head back into the room, where it was peaceful. And silent. And he could actually hear himself think.
But then he caught sight of a familiar face. The only one he’d want to see out of his horde of screaming fangirls, camouflaged by the night, and the crowd of wailing, hormone-crazed teens.
Lance took a step forward when he saw Justin’s jaw drop, guessing the younger man had seen him. “Hey, J,” he shouted up, and suddenly everything was quiet as everyone turned to look at him.
There was a hush, and then all hell broke loose. “Oh my god! That’s LANCE!”
Security was there in an instant, and the girls were parted so Lance could walk to the hotel doors without getting himself murdered. The blonde was smirking to himself, even as Justin ran down the flights of steps to receive him.
“Lance, you. You crazy fucker! You could have gotten *killed*!”
Lance laughed, batting Justin’s worried hands away. “But I wasn’t.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “That was *not* funny. You can’t do that again. Ever. I mean it.”
Lance shook his head, “I won’t. As long as you don’t give me reason to. What the hell did you mean by performing everywhere in American but where I was hanging? Hmm? How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Those photos you did for that porno photoshoot were really good.”
“You saw those?” Lance actually looked like he was about to blush.
“Yeah, I did. I really liked what I saw, by the way.”
Lance grinned. “Well, now you’ve got the real thing 3d.”
“It would be really wasteful if we didn’t… make good use of it.”
Lance was already dragging the younger man towards the elevator, the dying screams of the fans outside fading with their ringing laughter.