Lance Ficlets!
The other day for Lance's birthday, I wrote ficlets for people. They are all finally done, so I'm posting them. Some of them were previously posted as comments, and some of them are new. Adult content, blah blah, happy birthday Lance, you're my favorite!!
For wendy who requested: JC and Justin conspire to give Lance a SURPRISE.
"Justin." JC pauses, messes with the soundboard dials a little, frowns. "I just. I really don't think this is a good idea. Lance doesn't even LIKE surprises."
"Dude, whatever. Everyone says they hate surprises, but no one ever means it."
JC frowns some more, sighs, shrugs. There's really nothing he can do once Justin has some stupid idea in his head except let it play out, which is pretty unfortunate because maybe when other people say they don't like surprises, they're just being coy or whatever, but Lance? Lance really seems like he means it.
Which is why, when they finally get Lance drunk enough that he's willing to go off into a hotel room alone with the two of them, JC feels very, very nervous. This is possibly the worst idea Justin has ever had, and Lance is being so nice and sweetly drunk and leaning against JC in the elevator like he can't quite stand on his own. It's cute, and JC feels bad because it's Lance's birthday. Lance is turning twenty-seven, it's his birthday, and JC is pretty sure Lance hates surprises.
Also, JC is pretty sure Lance doesn't like strippers, no matter what Justin says. JC's not stupid. Not, apparently, like Justin, who thinks that everyone loves women who get naked for money just as much as he does, especially since it gives him an excuse to eat all the whipped cream he wants, even if licking it off strippers is really unsanitary. JC glares at Justin, just to make his point, mouths, "This is a bad idea!" to Justin over Lance's head, but then the elevator doors open with a soft ping and Justin's hustling them down the hall to the hotel room.
Lance, it turns out, doesn't really mind surprises, like, he doesn't get pissed off or anything, but it's not quite the reaction Justin was maybe looking for, either. They sit Lance down in one of the uncomfortable, straight-backed chairs that hotels always have and the girl comes out, all sexy and graceful with just a hint of sluttishness, which JC really appreciates, carrying a little boom box that blares out 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy' when she sets it down and presses play. It's a whole country-themed strip show, which is pretty awesome, in JC's opinion. She has a hat. And fringy chaps. JC kind of wants them. They'd look better on him, he thinks.
Justin is really into it, rubbing Lance's shoulders and grinning and being all, "See, this is awesome, she's hot, right?" But then Lance.
Lance starts laughing. And not like, in a nervous, about-to-get-a-lap-dance-woo kind of laugh, but a full-out, loud laugh. The stripper just raises her eyebrows and cocks her head to the side and Lance says, "It's okay, darlin', I appreciate the effort, but you don't need to keep going. Justin, give the lady a big tip."
And then she's being ushered out the door and Justin is shrugging apologetically to her and handing over a wad of cash. The stripper doesn't look too unhappy about the whole deal, especially with the money in her hands. She didn't even have to get naked, JC thinks, and stares longingly at the chaps. They'd probably fit him. He has skinny hips. The stripper just smiles and waves and closes the door behind her.
"What the fuck, Lance?" Justin says, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in a glare. "I'm just trying to do something nice for you, dude. Because it's your birthday! You don't have to be a dick about it and, like, turn down my carefully thought-out gift of hot girl flesh!"
Lance just grins and flops down on one of the beds, smiling up at the ceiling. He's really drunk, JC thinks with a smile, and sits down on the bed next to him, runs his fingers through Lance's hair. Lance wiggles happily and says, "It was a nice thought, J. But I really don't like surprises. Also, I'm gay."
*
For trumpeterofdoom who requested: ance and JC please, involving Space Cowboy in some way or other. (Because you KNOW JC wrote the song for Lance.)
When JC tells Lance that he wrote Lance a song, Lance is really flattered at first. JC sits next to him on the bus and bites his lip nervously and says, "I wrote you a song, Lance. It's about the triumph of the human spirit." He hands his song notes over and goes back to his bunk, like he doesn't want to be there when Lance looks at it. Which makes total sense when Lance looks at it, because, well.
It's not a song about the triumph of the human spirit, whatever that means. Lance is sort of expecting something about birds and flying high, or maybe even air balloons because somehow that makes sense, but instead it's a song about cowboys. In space. Lance reads the lyrics and sounds out the melody. He sings a little of it and shudders to himself. There's a whole section of "yippee yos" that's particularly horrendous. Lance tries to mouth the words and thinks about how this is possibly one of the worst songs he's ever seen and he should probably be offended that JC thinks it's about Lance. He can picture the choreography now. It's going to be terrible, and JC will want them to wear hats and chaps and fringe and maybe vests.
Lance shudders again, takes a deep breath, and goes to find JC in his bunk.
JC is sitting there reading something by Robert Heinlein, which possibly explains the inspiration for the song, and Lance climbs into his bunk, sits cross-legged facing JC, vowing to hide all of JC's Sci-Fi novels from now on. One song about space is bad enough. The next thing they know, JC'll have a song about aliens and giant space bugs and virtual reality, and Lance doesn't want to have to sing that.
"Hey," JC says, smiling a little and setting his book face down on the bunk next to him.
Lance hands him the song notes with a smile. "It's. JC, thank you. It's really about me?"
"Yeah," JC says, smiling a little wider. "I just wanted you to know, you know? That you're important. And stuff." JC's maybe blushing a little, it's pretty adorable. Lance has to look away before he does something incredibly stupid, like tries to kiss JC for writing a terrible song for him and making Lance love it anyway, just because it's such a sweet thing to do. Even if the song does suck, and there will likely be awful, literal choreography to go along with it. Lance imagines them miming horseback riding and lassoing and doing the hoe down, but it doesn't help-he still wants to kiss JC.
"And stuff?" Lance says finally, raising one eyebrow.
JC laughs and throws his pillow at Lance. "You know what I mean."
*
For anasuede who requested: However I do think Lance's birthday should include lavish gifts... maybe a lesson in ballroom dancing?
Lance is feeling good, he's feeling really good. It's his birthday and he's had, well, a lot of drinks because hey, Pink Vodka threw him a party and it's pretty awesome. Everything is made with vodka and Lance really, really loves vodka. Lance would maybe marry vodka if it were legal. Not that it's legal for him to get married anyway, at least not in California, but tonight is not the night for thinking about gay rights and the movement and all that crap, because it's his birthday, and he just. He really loves vodka.
So Lance is feeling especially good and all his friends are there. Okay, Chris isn't there because he's a jerk and doesn't think birthdays are a reason to celebrate, and Justin is fucking around in Europe doing some tour thing or whatever, excuses excuses, but Joey and JC and everyone else are there. All his friends. All his pretty, happy friends, and yeah. Vodka is pretty much the awesomest thing ever. He needs more, he thinks, and makes JC take shots with him.
"We can't shoot without a toast," JC insists, and Lance says things like, "To taking it to the next level!" and "To the triumph of the human spirit!" and "To girls who dance with women!" He thinks JC maybe wants to smack him for that, but it's Lance's birthday so JC just laughs instead, and then abandons him. Probably to find some girls who dance with women, the freak.
"Joey," Lance says, and leans against him because the room is spinning a little, happily, fuzzily, and other things that end in 'y' that Lance can't think of right now because vodka is awesome. "Joey, come dance with me. Show me how it's done. We can do the. The thing. With the hips."
"Ah, yeah, the one with the hips. I totally know what you're talking about, dude." Joey grins, though, because he's not mean and he loves Lance, Lance knows this. Joey is his best friend. Joey is straight, or else he would be Lance's life partner whatever thing. He still sort of is, but without the sex. So instead, Lance has sex with hot young guys, really fabulous sex, actually, and then he calls Joey and they talk about Idol and how annoying Phil is and how Blake and Chris are totally doing it. So yeah.
Lance grabs Joey's hand and pulls him into the crowd of dancing drunk people. Lance can do this with Joey because Joey's married, he has a kid, no one will accuse him of being gay. Not like poor JC, who is maybe pretty gay in spirit, but actually likes women and fucking them and everything. Which is not something Lance understands, exactly, but he respects JC's life choice and all that.
"Come on," Lance says, grinning and throwing his arms around Joey's neck, forearms resting on Joey's shoulders. It's sort of the best approximation of a hold he can manage at the moment because-dizzy and fuzzy and, oooh, those are also 'y' words. "Let's rumba. Or cha cha? The one with the hips, Joe."
Joey shakes his head, slips his arms around Lance's waist. The music is fast, something dancey and clubby and not Justin, thank god, because if Lance hears 'SexyBack' one more time he might actually start stabbing things, but Joey just shifts back and forth, swaying a bit, and it's nice.
"This isn't the rumba," Lance says, and lays his head on Joey's shoulder.
"Nope," Joey agrees.
"It's nice," Lance says, and smiles. "Hey Joe, you know what else is nice?"
"Hmm. Let me guess. Vodka?"
"Dude, you're like a freaking genius."
"I know," Joey says, and pats his back a little. Joey's his best friend. Lance loves him a lot.
*
For txtequilanights who requested: Prompt! UM, birthday blowjobs! Do what you will with that.
The best thing about being openly gay, Lance thinks, is the blowjobs.
Not that he couldn't get blowjobs before, but usually they were from girls, or else done really furtively with lots of paperwork and waivers and things involved, and even then he nearly got caught a bunch of times so it just wasn't worth. Plus, getting blowjobs was never really the hard part.
But Lance, he really likes giving them. Like, really likes it. He thinks it's probably something to do with his control issues. Chris would say that Lance needs to feel powerful in an uncontrollable world or something, only he'd use lots of psychobabble words and probably make fun of Lance a lot in sneaky Chris sort of way, so Lance doesn't ask. Plus, cocksucking isn't really a topic of conversation he wants to get into with Chris. Not unless Chris is offering himself as a guinea pig, and um, no. Just. No.
But it's Lance's birthday, his first birthday as an openly gay guy, which means he can pretty much choose any dick he wants to suck and the owner will happily oblige and Lance won't have to worry about the gossip bloggers calling him gay because he is gay and it's pretty awesome. Lance loves being gay, it really is the best time of his life, and he can suck any dick he wants to, now.
Which is what he tells himself at the club when he sees JC chatting up some hot, dark haired guy. Because actually, he's doing JC a favor, convincing him to come with Lance to the bathroom to help him "sober up a little, c'mon C, please?" JC doesn't need more gay rumors. JC still has to worry about the bloggers and the gossip and the annoying papers to get signed and the even more annoying manager watching his every move.
JC shrugs and waves good-bye to the guy, looking a bit sad, but he follows Lance into the bathroom and doesn't say anything when Lance pushes him into a stall and locks the door.
"Are you going to throw up?" JC says, rubbing the back of Lance's neck. Which is nice, and Lance really enjoys. Lance smiles a little and drops to his knees.
"No," Lance says, and unzips JC's pants, "But I am going to blow you."
"Oh," JC squeaks a little. His hands wave around wildly, like he doesn't know what to do with them, and he has this panicked look on his face. It's totally adorable. Lance is really glad he's gay, because he gets to do stuff like this now. Stuff like blowing one of his best friends in a club bathroom, because it's his birthday and he should get what he wants. "Do you, um, I'm not sure that's a good idea, Lance," JC says, but he doesn't stop Lance from pulling JC's pants down off his hips.
"Come on, JC. Please?" Lance looks up at him, tries to give him the big eyes, but JC has his closed and he's biting his bottom lip hard. It's pretty hot. It's really really hot, and Lance doesn't stop tugging at JC's pants. Down, down, little by little, and JC gasps just a bit and swallows when Lance gets them past his dick. JC's not wearing any underwear. Typical.
"I dunno, Lance. Um. I'm not really, you know."
"Sure, I know. But your dick seems okay with the idea. This is what I want for my birthday, C. Think of all the money it'll save on getting me a present."
And then Lance leans forward and slips JC's dick into his mouth and it's, yeah, it's pretty fantastic. JC's hard and heavy on his tongue and yeah, Lance really loves this. He wraps his fingers around JC's hips and sucks hard, tries to see how much of JC he can get into his mouth. JC makes a noise then, a hot little moan, and slides his fingers into Lance's hair.
"Saving money is good," JC says, and let's out a breathy sigh, tightens his fingers in Lance's hair just so. "Because. Because yes."
*
For turloughishere who requested: Lance/Nick and airports, please.
Lately it seems like Lance can't fly anywhere without seeing Nick Carter in the airport. It's almost like a weird stalker thing, except Nick never really says anything, barely acknowledges Lance's existence, and then Lance just finds himself annoyed and wondering if he did or said something offensive. Um, lately. Because okay, so Lance maybe has made inflammatory remarks about the Backstreet Boys (and Nick in particular) in the past, but that's all. In the past. Lance doesn't even have a group now, it's not like they're competing anymore. No blood, no foul, right?
And then Lance misses his connecting flight out of O'Hare because the damn airport is too big and half the moveable walkways are broken and okay, he maybe stopped to stare at the hall of flashy disco lights, and then to listen to one of the street performers, but it was this really hot guy playing an upturned bucket like a drum and it was cool, and the guy was hot, so that's not Lance's fault. That's like, the universe conspiring against him. Conspiring against him to force him to end up in the same waiting lounge as Nick Carter, who's sitting two rows away, typing on his laptop with his headphones on and pretending like Lance doesn't exist.
And maybe it's because Lance decided to have a drink immediately after missing his flight and having to convince stupid United Airlines to let him switch to American so he could still get home tonight, but probably it was the two mostly-vodka drinks he drank right after the first, but in any case, that's the only reason Lance can come up with for why he'd possibly think it's a good idea to sit down next to Nick Carter (still ignoring him), move in close, and lay his head on Nick's shoulder.
Nick has really nice shoulders, though. Big. Broad. Good for laying one's head on. Lance smiles and snuggles in a little.
"Um, hi?" Nick says. He sounds kind of amused. And not angry or confused at all, which is pretty weird, because Lance is almost certain that if some guy he only sort of knew sat next to him and got all touchy, he wouldn't-okay, never mind, bad example, because Lance sort of likes guys he barely knows touching him, as long as they're at least okay-looking. But then, Lance thinks he probably reeks of vodka. Mmmm vodka. He really does love vodka.
"Hey there," Lance says, and doesn't move. He's pretty comfortable. Nick is warm and has good shoulders. Lance could probably go to sleep right here. O'Hare's maybe not so bad, when he really thinks about it. It has some good bars, anyway. "I'm a little drunk," Lance says. "I'm just gonna go to sleep here, okay?"
"Uh. Sure," says Nick, and pats Lance on the head a little, like he's a particularly cute puppy. Lance is particularly cute, he thinks. Nick's pretty cute too, actually, and Lance is really glad Nick stopped ignoring him.
*
For zelda_zee who requested: Maybe Chris gives Lance the perfect birthday gift?
Two birthdays ago, Chris sent Lance a gigantic box of gay porn. Lance opened the box in front of his mother. It wasn't an entirely pleasant birthday after that, and his mom didn't even get a good enough look to notice that all the little naked people on the boxes were men. Lance looked later, though. He looked a lot. In the end, it was actually a pretty awesome present, and Lance wasn't surprised that summer at Challenge when Chris turned to him and said, "So, you're gay, huh?"
"Yup."
"You coulda just said, you know."
"But Chris," Lance said with a smile, "that would've taken all the fun out of it for you."
Last year, Chris sent Lance a box full of sex toys. This time, Lance didn't make the mistake of opening it in front of anyone. The note read:
Dear My Gay Best Friend Lance, Who Is So Very Gay-
I thought these might come in handy. I made JC go to the MeatCannon shop specially, just for you, and when people start accusing him of being gay, it can be your perfect alibi. That's the real present-JC, the Red Herring. But I'm sure the toys will come in handy.
And don't worry about them being dangerous or bad quality or anything. I tested them all myself. You might want to buy some lube though. And give them a good wash before using.
Love-
The Best Gift-Giver Ever, Chris
This year, Lance is out, so nothing Chris can send him could possibly do him any damage. Well, okay, it's Chris, so of course it could do damage because Chris is pretty much the most unpredictable, annoying, crazy, awesome person Lance knows. But nothing comes. Not in the days leading up to his birthday, not on the actual day, and not that weekend, either, although Lance spends most of it in Vegas shit-faced, getting blowjobs in club bathrooms from hot boys he never has to see again and seriously, this being out thing is the best thing ever. He considers telling JC about it, but Lance isn't Chris, he doesn't have the excuse of being insane. Lance, he thinks, should've been the crazy one. He's not fucking shy, that's for sure, and he's watched every single one of the pornos and tried out all the toys Chris got him last year (with varying results, although beads? Are like magic, and Lance really needs to remember to thank Chris).
So he spends the weekend in Vegas and still nothing from Chris. He gets home late Sunday night, early Monday morning and crashes, still sort of drunk, and when he wakes up it's nine in the morning and his head is pounding.
He groans and pulls his pillow over his head and tries to will the pounding away, and it works. Somehow. But then there's a different kind of pounding that sounds a lot like feet running up his front stairs, and his bedroom door being flung open, and a heavy, excited person jumping onto his bed.
"Ooof," Lance says when the person lands on him. He should probably be more concerned, but only like, seven people have keys to his house so he's not that worried. The person bounces up and down a little and Lance groans. He's still a little drunk from the night before and if the bouncing doesn't stop, Lance is going to puke all over whoever is doing. Actually, he might do that anyway, just on general principle.
"Lance!" Chris says. It's Chris, of course it's Chris, only Chris would be enough of an asshole to wake him up at nine in the morning the Monday after his birthday weekend. Little fucker.
Lance just grunts in response. Chris grabs his pillow and throws it on the floor so Lance has to look at him. Chris is grinning and looking annoyingly cheerful and wearing his orange goggles, which Lance is pretty sure JC accidentally threw out the bus window ten years ago, but whatever. Chris looks awake and happy and cheerful. It's really annoying.
"Lance, Lance, Lancelancelance! C'mon, wake up, it's time for your present!"
Lance just stares at him with bleary eyes. "This better be the most amazing fucking present in the history of the Universe, Chris. I had to watch Britney perform last night. I am still drunk."
Chris just grins, leans down and kisses him, a loud, wet smacking kiss right on the lips. "I'm your present, dickwad," he says, and kisses Lance again. A better kiss this time, a real one that gets Lance's dick pretty interested in the proceedings. Chris is a great kisser. Lance is sort of surprised, because he never thought of Chris as having the patience for something like good, long kisses.
"Uh. You're my. My present?"
"Get with the program, genius," Chris says. "I'm the present, so show a little enthusiasm."
Chris, Lance thinks as they kiss again and there are hands on him now, Chris's hands which are small and cute (not that Lance would ever say so) and really know how to touch him, like, REALLY know how. Chris, Lance thinks, always gives the best presents.
*
For madame_d who requested: Ideally, I would love a sequel to Lance/Nick you wrote for turloughishere but if two ficlets with awesome!Nick is too much, then Lance/AJ please. :)
It's not until they're on the airplane and Nick has convinced the annoying businessman sitting next to Lance who won't put down his blackberry even though the poor flight attendant has asked him, like, a million times to turn it off, to switch seats with him that they really have any sort of semblance of a conversation.
"So," Nick says, fiddling with his SkyMall magazine. "You're, uh. I just wanted to say congratulations and stuff. For the thing."
"Are you congratulating me for being gay?" Lance asks. That's pretty funny. That's like saying, 'Congratulations on being black!' or 'Hey, good for you, you're a woman!' Lance doesn't say that out loud though, because Nick seems pretty serious and he did let Lance sleep on him earlier. And he's cute. Nick is very, very cute. Lance doesn't remember Nick being this cute before. Probably because he was blinded by jealousy. Nick is tall and his hair always looks perfect, which just isn't fair. Lance has to work hard on his hair to get it to look so perfect. Effortless hair styling isn't something Lance can really respect.
"Um. No!" Nick says finally. "I, I mean. For the. The coming out thing. I could never. I'm not, you know. I'm not that brave."
"Are you that gay?" Lance asks, and laughs, because he's still a little drunk. This is pretty much the best flight ever, except for the time Chris puked on JC during take off. Like, just leaned over and puked right in JC's lap. That was pretty awesome, now that Lance thinks about it. He laughs again.
Nick frowns. "Are you laughing at me?"
"A little. So, are you?" Lance asks, and touches Nick's shoulder once, just a little brush. Nick has really nice shoulders. Good for sleeping on, and other things, Lance suspects. Awesome things that are way better than sleeping.
"Um." Nick coughs and twists the magazine in his hands. Nick, Lance thinks, also has good hands. Long fingers. Lance stares at them so hard he almost misses what Nick says next. "Maybe. Uh. Maybe a little."
Lance yawns and smiles and rests his head on Nick's shoulder again, pats his knee. "Just a little?" he says, and squeezes Nick's knee. "I think," he says slowly, "I think you're pretty brave. Brave enough to expand on that statement later. Say, ten minutes, left-hand-side bathroom?"
"Um," says Nick, but ten minutes later they're squeezed into the tiny airplane bathroom and Lance finds out that pretty much everything about Nick is really, really nice. Especially the way he moans high in his throat and says fuck and ohmygod when he comes in Lance's mouth.
So in the end, Lance is almost glad he missed his connecting flight in Chicago. Because Nick Carter, he decides when Nick is switching them around and shoving his hand down Lance's pants, is definitely more than a little gay.
*
For rikes who asked for: JoLa, and gave me a picture of Lance and Joey showering together, with Lance spitting water in Joey's face as a prompt.
The truth is, Lance doesn't even really like to jetski. Lou said he needed a hobby, a sports-type hobby, and no one would ever believe he likes basketball because he was so terrible at it, so Lance chose jet skiing. Lance chose jet skiing because Joey wanted to go jet skiing, and Lance liked Joey and really, any excuse to see Joey in a wetsuit was pretty much good enough for Lance.
So really, Lance doesn't even enjoy the actual act of jet skiing. The water fucks with his hair and the suit does nothing for his figure and he tips over way more than he actually stays on the damn thing. He has to get rescued about every five minutes, so it's not really all that enjoyable.
Except that after, he and Joey return their jet skis and Joey's grinning and out of breath and wet and, um, yeah. It's pretty awesome, and they lean on each other tiredly as they make their way to the outdoor showers, covered in sand and salt water and burned a little from the sun. There's only one stall open and Joey just shrugs and pulls Lance in with him.
It's pretty much the best shower of Lance's life even though nothing happens. Lance spits water at Joey and Joey retaliates by tickling him, and yeah, best shower ever. And Lance, he's had some pretty good showers. Like, showers that involved actual sex and once, a rimjob, which at the time, Lance hadn't even imagined was something people who weren't in porn movies actually did. So yeah, some pretty fantastic showers involving some pretty fantastic sex and some pretty hot guys, but none of them were Joey. They didn't mean anything, and none of them were Joey. None of them were his best friend.
So Lance, he doesn't even really like to jetski. But when Joey smiles wide and suggests they take the skis out for a spin, Lance always says yes.
*
For neverneverfic who requested: JC/Lance and some pink article of clothing.
Lance is on a mission. A mission to prove to JC once and for all that his clothing choices suck ass and he should stop wearing his scary, horrendous outfits immediately. Lance is sick of being judged based on JC's fashion choices, and Lance doesn't care how many fashion shows JC has been to, wearing pants with a naked lady on them will never, in any way, on any continent, be okay. Ever.
He tries to prove this to JC by wearing the pants himself (and fuck, but the tour costumer was not happy with him, because JC is skinny as fuck and Lance isn't and apparently, it's really hard to make tiny tiny JC pants into something big enough not to look obscene on Lance), but when JC sees him in the pants he just smiles and claps his hands together and gives Lance a hug. "See, honey?" JC says, admiring the pants and rubbing his hand longingly over the naked lady, "I told you, it's all about being fashion forward and taking a chance. Treat her right, okay?"
Chris, watching from the chair in the corner, just laughs and says, "Awesome pants, dude." Lance really, really hates him.
So Lance sort of gives up after that, because if JC can't see that the naked lady pants are a disaster, JC is never going to get it, ever. That is, until JC starts wearing the pink trucker hat everywhere. It's hideous and sort of dirty and JC attaches various novelty pins to it that say things like, "Feminist since 1976" and "Jesus is coming, look busy" and "Adult child of alien invaders."
"JC," Lance tries, "You don't even like truckers. You think trucking is responsible for Global Warming."
"It is," JC says. "But that's not the truckers' fault. I mean, they need to work too, Lance. Don't be so classist."
"JC," Lance says the next day, staring hopelessly at the hat, "you're gay. You don't even want to fuck women. In what way have you been a feminist since 1976?"
JC just glares at him over the top of his magazine. "If you can't spot the misogyny in that statement, Lance, I don't think it deserves an answer. Just because I prefer to fuck men doesn't mean that I don't value women as people."
Finally, Lance waits for JC to fall asleep and just steals the damn thing. It's even more hideous close up, all pink mesh and a white fabric center and the buttons, big and round and ridiculous. Lance considers tossing it out the bus window, but when he looks over at JC, sleeping peacefully on the lounge couch, his feet twitching a little like he's a dog having one of those really nice dreams about chasing things, Lance just can't do it. The hat is horrible and it's pink and it's against all laws of God and fashion, but Lance doesn't have the heart. JC loves it so much.
Lance sighs and stands over JC for a minute, knowing he's going to regret giving up the battle, before pushing the hat back on JC's head. JC makes a little sleepy noise and his eyes flicker open.
"Lance? What's going on?"
"Nothing, C. Go back to sleep."
JC shifts until his back presses against the back of the couch, stretches out his arm. "Come sleep with me," he says. His eyes are already closed again.
Once Lance is settled on the couch, JC's arms around him like he's a particularly soft stuffed animal, Lance's face pressed in JC's chest, JC makes a little humming, questioning noise, and when Lance looks up, JC is pulling the hat off and dropping it over the back of the couch.
"Itches," JC mumbles, and snuggles down closer to Lance. "Might have to get rid of it."
"You should keep it," Lance says, and smiles. "It's very you."
*
For puszysty who requested: A Lance ficlet involving JC and the beach? :)
JC does not approve of sex on the beach. It's itchy and sandy and gross and outside and did he mention sandy? Because the thing about sand is, it gets everywhere. It doesn't matter if you lay down a towel or a blanket or a fucking tarp, the shit gets everywhere and it gets IN everywhere and okay, so maybe if he's doing it with someone really hot and fantastic, the washing process can be kind of hot, but really, JC would prefer to avoid it altogether. He's rich, he can afford a nice bed.
Also, the beach isn't remotely as romantic as people think. There are sharks in the ocean, JC is pretty sure. He's seen all of the Jaws movies, so he knows. There are sharks, and sharks eat people. Also, sting rays. Which don't actually eat people, but can be deadly nonetheless. So the beach? Not romantic. The beach is deadly and scary and itchy, especially at night. JC thinks he can almost feel all the shark eyes on him. They're probably thinking, "Mmmm, fresh meat. A little skinny, but we can tell he takes care of his skin. He'll go nice with some Chianti and blood."
"JC," Lance says, arms wrapped around his waist from behind, chin resting on JC's shoulder, "don't be ridiculous. Sharks are really, really stupid. Seriously, they have tiny brains. There's no way they even know what Chianti is."
Then Lance is turning him around and kissing him and cupping JC's dick through his shorts with one hot palm, which pretty much makes JC forget about the sharks and almost about the sting rays, but those were really just a distance worry anyway, because sharks might come up on the beach if they're, like, super-charged, genetically-altered, government-controlled sharks, but sting rays will pretty much stay in the water. Probably. JC hopes.
And then Lance is pulling him down onto the blanket, tugging JC's shorts off and pulling him on top, and oh, yeah, this is pretty much the perfect solution to the whole sand debacle. Lance can be his sand-barrier. Lance can definitely be his sand-barrier, JC thinks cheerfully as Lance's fingers press up and in, in, two fingers twisting inside him and Lance smiling below him, eyes bright in the weak moonlight and yeah, JC can't even remember the word 'shark' right now.
Lance inside him is pretty much the best feeling ever. Lance inside him, filling him, the slow stretch and burn of it, the way Lance's mouth goes slack and his fingers tighten around JC's hips. The way he moans and grinds up when JC leans down to kiss him, the way Lance shudders and twists beneath him when JC leans back and swivels his hips, slow and hard.
So, JC doesn't really approve of sex on the beach. It's itchy and sandy and not romantic at all (because, hello, dangerous sea creatures that probably want nothing more than a JC-shaped midnight snack in their fishy bellies!), but after, when he's laying on top of Lance, all boneless and satisfied and, yeah, sticky with come and sweat, but that would happen in a bed, too. After, when he's laying on top of Lance, Lance's fingers trailing up and down his spine, he thinks that maybe, just this once, he can make an exception.
*
For nopsued who requested: Any pairing you like, with sex and food, please. (A/N: for the record, the pairing is Lance/Mochas)
Every morning Lance wakes up, drinks a glass of vegetable juice that he hates because seriously, anything that tastes like that and doesn't contain vodka should be illegal based on sheer disgustingness, and goes running. Sometimes he runs with his trainer, sometimes he runs on his own, but he always stops at the Starbucks on the way back and buys a double chocolate soy mocha, no-whip, because damnit, he works hard, and he deserves things that taste good.
It's the best part of his day, drinking his mocha. He jogs right up to the door of the Starbucks and it's always the same girl at the register on weekdays. Her name is Mary and she's fabulous and she already knows what he wants. She doesn't even seem to mind that Lance's cash comes from his shoe and is gross and sweaty, although she does wear plastic gloves after the first day, but Lance isn't offended. He just wants his mocha. Mary the Barista is happy to oblige. She seems to have a new and interesting facial piercing every week. Lance thinks maybe he's in love, although that's probably just the chocolate and caffeine talking.
So Lance has his routine, and everyday he gets his mocha and it's a good routine. It goes on for months and months and Lance is pretty happy. He maybe doesn't lose weight as quickly as he would because of the added sugar or whatever, but he doesn't really care because he's rich and famous, he doesn't need to be super skinny to get guys. He already has a guy, anyway, and his mochas-his top secret, delicious, lovely mochas-and Lance really loves his routine. This week, Mary has taken out her eyebrow ring and added a nose stud. Lance thinks it matches her septum piercing quite nicely, and he's smiling as he turns away from the counter, already taking greedy sips from his delicious, chocolate-and-espresso-filled cup.
And then his smile slips away and he glares instead, lifting the cup defiantly to his mouth and taking a huge gulp. Justin, sitting at one of the little round tables in the corner with a ridiculous hat and sunglasses on, just glares back and raises his eyebrows questioningly.
"What?" Lance says, throwing himself into the chair opposite Justin and clutching his cup to his chest. He half-expects Justin to try to take it away. Justin's such a jerk sometimes, and Lance considers telling him so, telling him that not everyone has to be perfect like Justin, but on the other hand, Justin is a lot bigger than Lance and could probably take the mocha away, easy, so Lance just shuts up and drinks as fast as he can. "What?" he says again. Justin is just staring. It's freaky.
"Nothing, dude," Justin says, and his lips twitch a little like he's trying to keep from smiling. Probably trying to keep from laughing at Lance and his mocha addiction, but whatever, because mochas taste good and Lance loves them forever and ever and he's not giving them up, damnit. He's not. "I just," Justin grins, "I just never thought never thought my big competition for your love and devotion would be coffee, that's all."
"It's not just coffee, it's a mocha."
"In that case, I'm really worried, man." Justin nudges his foot under the table. "This is the part where you tell me not to worry, that you love me forever and we're gonna go home right now so you can prove it."
"That's. Yes, that's a good idea," Lance says. "Because you know, as much as I love mochas, they don't have dicks."
"It's good to know that at least there's one thing I have that they don't. Come on, seriously, let's go." Justin takes his sunglasses off, leans forward and gives Lance this look, all hot and ready and Lance just knows Justin's already hard and it's, yeah, it's very tempting but-
"In a minute," Lance says. "I have to finish my mocha."
*
And an apology to msktrnanny, who wanted JoLa, with a long-standing inside joke: I tried really really hard to write it, and failed, miserably. Maybe someone else can take on the challenge for me? *pokes flist*
For wendy who requested: JC and Justin conspire to give Lance a SURPRISE.
"Justin." JC pauses, messes with the soundboard dials a little, frowns. "I just. I really don't think this is a good idea. Lance doesn't even LIKE surprises."
"Dude, whatever. Everyone says they hate surprises, but no one ever means it."
JC frowns some more, sighs, shrugs. There's really nothing he can do once Justin has some stupid idea in his head except let it play out, which is pretty unfortunate because maybe when other people say they don't like surprises, they're just being coy or whatever, but Lance? Lance really seems like he means it.
Which is why, when they finally get Lance drunk enough that he's willing to go off into a hotel room alone with the two of them, JC feels very, very nervous. This is possibly the worst idea Justin has ever had, and Lance is being so nice and sweetly drunk and leaning against JC in the elevator like he can't quite stand on his own. It's cute, and JC feels bad because it's Lance's birthday. Lance is turning twenty-seven, it's his birthday, and JC is pretty sure Lance hates surprises.
Also, JC is pretty sure Lance doesn't like strippers, no matter what Justin says. JC's not stupid. Not, apparently, like Justin, who thinks that everyone loves women who get naked for money just as much as he does, especially since it gives him an excuse to eat all the whipped cream he wants, even if licking it off strippers is really unsanitary. JC glares at Justin, just to make his point, mouths, "This is a bad idea!" to Justin over Lance's head, but then the elevator doors open with a soft ping and Justin's hustling them down the hall to the hotel room.
Lance, it turns out, doesn't really mind surprises, like, he doesn't get pissed off or anything, but it's not quite the reaction Justin was maybe looking for, either. They sit Lance down in one of the uncomfortable, straight-backed chairs that hotels always have and the girl comes out, all sexy and graceful with just a hint of sluttishness, which JC really appreciates, carrying a little boom box that blares out 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy' when she sets it down and presses play. It's a whole country-themed strip show, which is pretty awesome, in JC's opinion. She has a hat. And fringy chaps. JC kind of wants them. They'd look better on him, he thinks.
Justin is really into it, rubbing Lance's shoulders and grinning and being all, "See, this is awesome, she's hot, right?" But then Lance.
Lance starts laughing. And not like, in a nervous, about-to-get-a-lap-dance-woo kind of laugh, but a full-out, loud laugh. The stripper just raises her eyebrows and cocks her head to the side and Lance says, "It's okay, darlin', I appreciate the effort, but you don't need to keep going. Justin, give the lady a big tip."
And then she's being ushered out the door and Justin is shrugging apologetically to her and handing over a wad of cash. The stripper doesn't look too unhappy about the whole deal, especially with the money in her hands. She didn't even have to get naked, JC thinks, and stares longingly at the chaps. They'd probably fit him. He has skinny hips. The stripper just smiles and waves and closes the door behind her.
"What the fuck, Lance?" Justin says, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in a glare. "I'm just trying to do something nice for you, dude. Because it's your birthday! You don't have to be a dick about it and, like, turn down my carefully thought-out gift of hot girl flesh!"
Lance just grins and flops down on one of the beds, smiling up at the ceiling. He's really drunk, JC thinks with a smile, and sits down on the bed next to him, runs his fingers through Lance's hair. Lance wiggles happily and says, "It was a nice thought, J. But I really don't like surprises. Also, I'm gay."
*
For trumpeterofdoom who requested: ance and JC please, involving Space Cowboy in some way or other. (Because you KNOW JC wrote the song for Lance.)
When JC tells Lance that he wrote Lance a song, Lance is really flattered at first. JC sits next to him on the bus and bites his lip nervously and says, "I wrote you a song, Lance. It's about the triumph of the human spirit." He hands his song notes over and goes back to his bunk, like he doesn't want to be there when Lance looks at it. Which makes total sense when Lance looks at it, because, well.
It's not a song about the triumph of the human spirit, whatever that means. Lance is sort of expecting something about birds and flying high, or maybe even air balloons because somehow that makes sense, but instead it's a song about cowboys. In space. Lance reads the lyrics and sounds out the melody. He sings a little of it and shudders to himself. There's a whole section of "yippee yos" that's particularly horrendous. Lance tries to mouth the words and thinks about how this is possibly one of the worst songs he's ever seen and he should probably be offended that JC thinks it's about Lance. He can picture the choreography now. It's going to be terrible, and JC will want them to wear hats and chaps and fringe and maybe vests.
Lance shudders again, takes a deep breath, and goes to find JC in his bunk.
JC is sitting there reading something by Robert Heinlein, which possibly explains the inspiration for the song, and Lance climbs into his bunk, sits cross-legged facing JC, vowing to hide all of JC's Sci-Fi novels from now on. One song about space is bad enough. The next thing they know, JC'll have a song about aliens and giant space bugs and virtual reality, and Lance doesn't want to have to sing that.
"Hey," JC says, smiling a little and setting his book face down on the bunk next to him.
Lance hands him the song notes with a smile. "It's. JC, thank you. It's really about me?"
"Yeah," JC says, smiling a little wider. "I just wanted you to know, you know? That you're important. And stuff." JC's maybe blushing a little, it's pretty adorable. Lance has to look away before he does something incredibly stupid, like tries to kiss JC for writing a terrible song for him and making Lance love it anyway, just because it's such a sweet thing to do. Even if the song does suck, and there will likely be awful, literal choreography to go along with it. Lance imagines them miming horseback riding and lassoing and doing the hoe down, but it doesn't help-he still wants to kiss JC.
"And stuff?" Lance says finally, raising one eyebrow.
JC laughs and throws his pillow at Lance. "You know what I mean."
*
For anasuede who requested: However I do think Lance's birthday should include lavish gifts... maybe a lesson in ballroom dancing?
Lance is feeling good, he's feeling really good. It's his birthday and he's had, well, a lot of drinks because hey, Pink Vodka threw him a party and it's pretty awesome. Everything is made with vodka and Lance really, really loves vodka. Lance would maybe marry vodka if it were legal. Not that it's legal for him to get married anyway, at least not in California, but tonight is not the night for thinking about gay rights and the movement and all that crap, because it's his birthday, and he just. He really loves vodka.
So Lance is feeling especially good and all his friends are there. Okay, Chris isn't there because he's a jerk and doesn't think birthdays are a reason to celebrate, and Justin is fucking around in Europe doing some tour thing or whatever, excuses excuses, but Joey and JC and everyone else are there. All his friends. All his pretty, happy friends, and yeah. Vodka is pretty much the awesomest thing ever. He needs more, he thinks, and makes JC take shots with him.
"We can't shoot without a toast," JC insists, and Lance says things like, "To taking it to the next level!" and "To the triumph of the human spirit!" and "To girls who dance with women!" He thinks JC maybe wants to smack him for that, but it's Lance's birthday so JC just laughs instead, and then abandons him. Probably to find some girls who dance with women, the freak.
"Joey," Lance says, and leans against him because the room is spinning a little, happily, fuzzily, and other things that end in 'y' that Lance can't think of right now because vodka is awesome. "Joey, come dance with me. Show me how it's done. We can do the. The thing. With the hips."
"Ah, yeah, the one with the hips. I totally know what you're talking about, dude." Joey grins, though, because he's not mean and he loves Lance, Lance knows this. Joey is his best friend. Joey is straight, or else he would be Lance's life partner whatever thing. He still sort of is, but without the sex. So instead, Lance has sex with hot young guys, really fabulous sex, actually, and then he calls Joey and they talk about Idol and how annoying Phil is and how Blake and Chris are totally doing it. So yeah.
Lance grabs Joey's hand and pulls him into the crowd of dancing drunk people. Lance can do this with Joey because Joey's married, he has a kid, no one will accuse him of being gay. Not like poor JC, who is maybe pretty gay in spirit, but actually likes women and fucking them and everything. Which is not something Lance understands, exactly, but he respects JC's life choice and all that.
"Come on," Lance says, grinning and throwing his arms around Joey's neck, forearms resting on Joey's shoulders. It's sort of the best approximation of a hold he can manage at the moment because-dizzy and fuzzy and, oooh, those are also 'y' words. "Let's rumba. Or cha cha? The one with the hips, Joe."
Joey shakes his head, slips his arms around Lance's waist. The music is fast, something dancey and clubby and not Justin, thank god, because if Lance hears 'SexyBack' one more time he might actually start stabbing things, but Joey just shifts back and forth, swaying a bit, and it's nice.
"This isn't the rumba," Lance says, and lays his head on Joey's shoulder.
"Nope," Joey agrees.
"It's nice," Lance says, and smiles. "Hey Joe, you know what else is nice?"
"Hmm. Let me guess. Vodka?"
"Dude, you're like a freaking genius."
"I know," Joey says, and pats his back a little. Joey's his best friend. Lance loves him a lot.
*
For txtequilanights who requested: Prompt! UM, birthday blowjobs! Do what you will with that.
The best thing about being openly gay, Lance thinks, is the blowjobs.
Not that he couldn't get blowjobs before, but usually they were from girls, or else done really furtively with lots of paperwork and waivers and things involved, and even then he nearly got caught a bunch of times so it just wasn't worth. Plus, getting blowjobs was never really the hard part.
But Lance, he really likes giving them. Like, really likes it. He thinks it's probably something to do with his control issues. Chris would say that Lance needs to feel powerful in an uncontrollable world or something, only he'd use lots of psychobabble words and probably make fun of Lance a lot in sneaky Chris sort of way, so Lance doesn't ask. Plus, cocksucking isn't really a topic of conversation he wants to get into with Chris. Not unless Chris is offering himself as a guinea pig, and um, no. Just. No.
But it's Lance's birthday, his first birthday as an openly gay guy, which means he can pretty much choose any dick he wants to suck and the owner will happily oblige and Lance won't have to worry about the gossip bloggers calling him gay because he is gay and it's pretty awesome. Lance loves being gay, it really is the best time of his life, and he can suck any dick he wants to, now.
Which is what he tells himself at the club when he sees JC chatting up some hot, dark haired guy. Because actually, he's doing JC a favor, convincing him to come with Lance to the bathroom to help him "sober up a little, c'mon C, please?" JC doesn't need more gay rumors. JC still has to worry about the bloggers and the gossip and the annoying papers to get signed and the even more annoying manager watching his every move.
JC shrugs and waves good-bye to the guy, looking a bit sad, but he follows Lance into the bathroom and doesn't say anything when Lance pushes him into a stall and locks the door.
"Are you going to throw up?" JC says, rubbing the back of Lance's neck. Which is nice, and Lance really enjoys. Lance smiles a little and drops to his knees.
"No," Lance says, and unzips JC's pants, "But I am going to blow you."
"Oh," JC squeaks a little. His hands wave around wildly, like he doesn't know what to do with them, and he has this panicked look on his face. It's totally adorable. Lance is really glad he's gay, because he gets to do stuff like this now. Stuff like blowing one of his best friends in a club bathroom, because it's his birthday and he should get what he wants. "Do you, um, I'm not sure that's a good idea, Lance," JC says, but he doesn't stop Lance from pulling JC's pants down off his hips.
"Come on, JC. Please?" Lance looks up at him, tries to give him the big eyes, but JC has his closed and he's biting his bottom lip hard. It's pretty hot. It's really really hot, and Lance doesn't stop tugging at JC's pants. Down, down, little by little, and JC gasps just a bit and swallows when Lance gets them past his dick. JC's not wearing any underwear. Typical.
"I dunno, Lance. Um. I'm not really, you know."
"Sure, I know. But your dick seems okay with the idea. This is what I want for my birthday, C. Think of all the money it'll save on getting me a present."
And then Lance leans forward and slips JC's dick into his mouth and it's, yeah, it's pretty fantastic. JC's hard and heavy on his tongue and yeah, Lance really loves this. He wraps his fingers around JC's hips and sucks hard, tries to see how much of JC he can get into his mouth. JC makes a noise then, a hot little moan, and slides his fingers into Lance's hair.
"Saving money is good," JC says, and let's out a breathy sigh, tightens his fingers in Lance's hair just so. "Because. Because yes."
*
For turloughishere who requested: Lance/Nick and airports, please.
Lately it seems like Lance can't fly anywhere without seeing Nick Carter in the airport. It's almost like a weird stalker thing, except Nick never really says anything, barely acknowledges Lance's existence, and then Lance just finds himself annoyed and wondering if he did or said something offensive. Um, lately. Because okay, so Lance maybe has made inflammatory remarks about the Backstreet Boys (and Nick in particular) in the past, but that's all. In the past. Lance doesn't even have a group now, it's not like they're competing anymore. No blood, no foul, right?
And then Lance misses his connecting flight out of O'Hare because the damn airport is too big and half the moveable walkways are broken and okay, he maybe stopped to stare at the hall of flashy disco lights, and then to listen to one of the street performers, but it was this really hot guy playing an upturned bucket like a drum and it was cool, and the guy was hot, so that's not Lance's fault. That's like, the universe conspiring against him. Conspiring against him to force him to end up in the same waiting lounge as Nick Carter, who's sitting two rows away, typing on his laptop with his headphones on and pretending like Lance doesn't exist.
And maybe it's because Lance decided to have a drink immediately after missing his flight and having to convince stupid United Airlines to let him switch to American so he could still get home tonight, but probably it was the two mostly-vodka drinks he drank right after the first, but in any case, that's the only reason Lance can come up with for why he'd possibly think it's a good idea to sit down next to Nick Carter (still ignoring him), move in close, and lay his head on Nick's shoulder.
Nick has really nice shoulders, though. Big. Broad. Good for laying one's head on. Lance smiles and snuggles in a little.
"Um, hi?" Nick says. He sounds kind of amused. And not angry or confused at all, which is pretty weird, because Lance is almost certain that if some guy he only sort of knew sat next to him and got all touchy, he wouldn't-okay, never mind, bad example, because Lance sort of likes guys he barely knows touching him, as long as they're at least okay-looking. But then, Lance thinks he probably reeks of vodka. Mmmm vodka. He really does love vodka.
"Hey there," Lance says, and doesn't move. He's pretty comfortable. Nick is warm and has good shoulders. Lance could probably go to sleep right here. O'Hare's maybe not so bad, when he really thinks about it. It has some good bars, anyway. "I'm a little drunk," Lance says. "I'm just gonna go to sleep here, okay?"
"Uh. Sure," says Nick, and pats Lance on the head a little, like he's a particularly cute puppy. Lance is particularly cute, he thinks. Nick's pretty cute too, actually, and Lance is really glad Nick stopped ignoring him.
*
For zelda_zee who requested: Maybe Chris gives Lance the perfect birthday gift?
Two birthdays ago, Chris sent Lance a gigantic box of gay porn. Lance opened the box in front of his mother. It wasn't an entirely pleasant birthday after that, and his mom didn't even get a good enough look to notice that all the little naked people on the boxes were men. Lance looked later, though. He looked a lot. In the end, it was actually a pretty awesome present, and Lance wasn't surprised that summer at Challenge when Chris turned to him and said, "So, you're gay, huh?"
"Yup."
"You coulda just said, you know."
"But Chris," Lance said with a smile, "that would've taken all the fun out of it for you."
Last year, Chris sent Lance a box full of sex toys. This time, Lance didn't make the mistake of opening it in front of anyone. The note read:
Dear My Gay Best Friend Lance, Who Is So Very Gay-
I thought these might come in handy. I made JC go to the MeatCannon shop specially, just for you, and when people start accusing him of being gay, it can be your perfect alibi. That's the real present-JC, the Red Herring. But I'm sure the toys will come in handy.
And don't worry about them being dangerous or bad quality or anything. I tested them all myself. You might want to buy some lube though. And give them a good wash before using.
Love-
The Best Gift-Giver Ever, Chris
This year, Lance is out, so nothing Chris can send him could possibly do him any damage. Well, okay, it's Chris, so of course it could do damage because Chris is pretty much the most unpredictable, annoying, crazy, awesome person Lance knows. But nothing comes. Not in the days leading up to his birthday, not on the actual day, and not that weekend, either, although Lance spends most of it in Vegas shit-faced, getting blowjobs in club bathrooms from hot boys he never has to see again and seriously, this being out thing is the best thing ever. He considers telling JC about it, but Lance isn't Chris, he doesn't have the excuse of being insane. Lance, he thinks, should've been the crazy one. He's not fucking shy, that's for sure, and he's watched every single one of the pornos and tried out all the toys Chris got him last year (with varying results, although beads? Are like magic, and Lance really needs to remember to thank Chris).
So he spends the weekend in Vegas and still nothing from Chris. He gets home late Sunday night, early Monday morning and crashes, still sort of drunk, and when he wakes up it's nine in the morning and his head is pounding.
He groans and pulls his pillow over his head and tries to will the pounding away, and it works. Somehow. But then there's a different kind of pounding that sounds a lot like feet running up his front stairs, and his bedroom door being flung open, and a heavy, excited person jumping onto his bed.
"Ooof," Lance says when the person lands on him. He should probably be more concerned, but only like, seven people have keys to his house so he's not that worried. The person bounces up and down a little and Lance groans. He's still a little drunk from the night before and if the bouncing doesn't stop, Lance is going to puke all over whoever is doing. Actually, he might do that anyway, just on general principle.
"Lance!" Chris says. It's Chris, of course it's Chris, only Chris would be enough of an asshole to wake him up at nine in the morning the Monday after his birthday weekend. Little fucker.
Lance just grunts in response. Chris grabs his pillow and throws it on the floor so Lance has to look at him. Chris is grinning and looking annoyingly cheerful and wearing his orange goggles, which Lance is pretty sure JC accidentally threw out the bus window ten years ago, but whatever. Chris looks awake and happy and cheerful. It's really annoying.
"Lance, Lance, Lancelancelance! C'mon, wake up, it's time for your present!"
Lance just stares at him with bleary eyes. "This better be the most amazing fucking present in the history of the Universe, Chris. I had to watch Britney perform last night. I am still drunk."
Chris just grins, leans down and kisses him, a loud, wet smacking kiss right on the lips. "I'm your present, dickwad," he says, and kisses Lance again. A better kiss this time, a real one that gets Lance's dick pretty interested in the proceedings. Chris is a great kisser. Lance is sort of surprised, because he never thought of Chris as having the patience for something like good, long kisses.
"Uh. You're my. My present?"
"Get with the program, genius," Chris says. "I'm the present, so show a little enthusiasm."
Chris, Lance thinks as they kiss again and there are hands on him now, Chris's hands which are small and cute (not that Lance would ever say so) and really know how to touch him, like, REALLY know how. Chris, Lance thinks, always gives the best presents.
*
For madame_d who requested: Ideally, I would love a sequel to Lance/Nick you wrote for turloughishere but if two ficlets with awesome!Nick is too much, then Lance/AJ please. :)
It's not until they're on the airplane and Nick has convinced the annoying businessman sitting next to Lance who won't put down his blackberry even though the poor flight attendant has asked him, like, a million times to turn it off, to switch seats with him that they really have any sort of semblance of a conversation.
"So," Nick says, fiddling with his SkyMall magazine. "You're, uh. I just wanted to say congratulations and stuff. For the thing."
"Are you congratulating me for being gay?" Lance asks. That's pretty funny. That's like saying, 'Congratulations on being black!' or 'Hey, good for you, you're a woman!' Lance doesn't say that out loud though, because Nick seems pretty serious and he did let Lance sleep on him earlier. And he's cute. Nick is very, very cute. Lance doesn't remember Nick being this cute before. Probably because he was blinded by jealousy. Nick is tall and his hair always looks perfect, which just isn't fair. Lance has to work hard on his hair to get it to look so perfect. Effortless hair styling isn't something Lance can really respect.
"Um. No!" Nick says finally. "I, I mean. For the. The coming out thing. I could never. I'm not, you know. I'm not that brave."
"Are you that gay?" Lance asks, and laughs, because he's still a little drunk. This is pretty much the best flight ever, except for the time Chris puked on JC during take off. Like, just leaned over and puked right in JC's lap. That was pretty awesome, now that Lance thinks about it. He laughs again.
Nick frowns. "Are you laughing at me?"
"A little. So, are you?" Lance asks, and touches Nick's shoulder once, just a little brush. Nick has really nice shoulders. Good for sleeping on, and other things, Lance suspects. Awesome things that are way better than sleeping.
"Um." Nick coughs and twists the magazine in his hands. Nick, Lance thinks, also has good hands. Long fingers. Lance stares at them so hard he almost misses what Nick says next. "Maybe. Uh. Maybe a little."
Lance yawns and smiles and rests his head on Nick's shoulder again, pats his knee. "Just a little?" he says, and squeezes Nick's knee. "I think," he says slowly, "I think you're pretty brave. Brave enough to expand on that statement later. Say, ten minutes, left-hand-side bathroom?"
"Um," says Nick, but ten minutes later they're squeezed into the tiny airplane bathroom and Lance finds out that pretty much everything about Nick is really, really nice. Especially the way he moans high in his throat and says fuck and ohmygod when he comes in Lance's mouth.
So in the end, Lance is almost glad he missed his connecting flight in Chicago. Because Nick Carter, he decides when Nick is switching them around and shoving his hand down Lance's pants, is definitely more than a little gay.
*
For rikes who asked for: JoLa, and gave me a picture of Lance and Joey showering together, with Lance spitting water in Joey's face as a prompt.
The truth is, Lance doesn't even really like to jetski. Lou said he needed a hobby, a sports-type hobby, and no one would ever believe he likes basketball because he was so terrible at it, so Lance chose jet skiing. Lance chose jet skiing because Joey wanted to go jet skiing, and Lance liked Joey and really, any excuse to see Joey in a wetsuit was pretty much good enough for Lance.
So really, Lance doesn't even enjoy the actual act of jet skiing. The water fucks with his hair and the suit does nothing for his figure and he tips over way more than he actually stays on the damn thing. He has to get rescued about every five minutes, so it's not really all that enjoyable.
Except that after, he and Joey return their jet skis and Joey's grinning and out of breath and wet and, um, yeah. It's pretty awesome, and they lean on each other tiredly as they make their way to the outdoor showers, covered in sand and salt water and burned a little from the sun. There's only one stall open and Joey just shrugs and pulls Lance in with him.
It's pretty much the best shower of Lance's life even though nothing happens. Lance spits water at Joey and Joey retaliates by tickling him, and yeah, best shower ever. And Lance, he's had some pretty good showers. Like, showers that involved actual sex and once, a rimjob, which at the time, Lance hadn't even imagined was something people who weren't in porn movies actually did. So yeah, some pretty fantastic showers involving some pretty fantastic sex and some pretty hot guys, but none of them were Joey. They didn't mean anything, and none of them were Joey. None of them were his best friend.
So Lance, he doesn't even really like to jetski. But when Joey smiles wide and suggests they take the skis out for a spin, Lance always says yes.
*
For neverneverfic who requested: JC/Lance and some pink article of clothing.
Lance is on a mission. A mission to prove to JC once and for all that his clothing choices suck ass and he should stop wearing his scary, horrendous outfits immediately. Lance is sick of being judged based on JC's fashion choices, and Lance doesn't care how many fashion shows JC has been to, wearing pants with a naked lady on them will never, in any way, on any continent, be okay. Ever.
He tries to prove this to JC by wearing the pants himself (and fuck, but the tour costumer was not happy with him, because JC is skinny as fuck and Lance isn't and apparently, it's really hard to make tiny tiny JC pants into something big enough not to look obscene on Lance), but when JC sees him in the pants he just smiles and claps his hands together and gives Lance a hug. "See, honey?" JC says, admiring the pants and rubbing his hand longingly over the naked lady, "I told you, it's all about being fashion forward and taking a chance. Treat her right, okay?"
Chris, watching from the chair in the corner, just laughs and says, "Awesome pants, dude." Lance really, really hates him.
So Lance sort of gives up after that, because if JC can't see that the naked lady pants are a disaster, JC is never going to get it, ever. That is, until JC starts wearing the pink trucker hat everywhere. It's hideous and sort of dirty and JC attaches various novelty pins to it that say things like, "Feminist since 1976" and "Jesus is coming, look busy" and "Adult child of alien invaders."
"JC," Lance tries, "You don't even like truckers. You think trucking is responsible for Global Warming."
"It is," JC says. "But that's not the truckers' fault. I mean, they need to work too, Lance. Don't be so classist."
"JC," Lance says the next day, staring hopelessly at the hat, "you're gay. You don't even want to fuck women. In what way have you been a feminist since 1976?"
JC just glares at him over the top of his magazine. "If you can't spot the misogyny in that statement, Lance, I don't think it deserves an answer. Just because I prefer to fuck men doesn't mean that I don't value women as people."
Finally, Lance waits for JC to fall asleep and just steals the damn thing. It's even more hideous close up, all pink mesh and a white fabric center and the buttons, big and round and ridiculous. Lance considers tossing it out the bus window, but when he looks over at JC, sleeping peacefully on the lounge couch, his feet twitching a little like he's a dog having one of those really nice dreams about chasing things, Lance just can't do it. The hat is horrible and it's pink and it's against all laws of God and fashion, but Lance doesn't have the heart. JC loves it so much.
Lance sighs and stands over JC for a minute, knowing he's going to regret giving up the battle, before pushing the hat back on JC's head. JC makes a little sleepy noise and his eyes flicker open.
"Lance? What's going on?"
"Nothing, C. Go back to sleep."
JC shifts until his back presses against the back of the couch, stretches out his arm. "Come sleep with me," he says. His eyes are already closed again.
Once Lance is settled on the couch, JC's arms around him like he's a particularly soft stuffed animal, Lance's face pressed in JC's chest, JC makes a little humming, questioning noise, and when Lance looks up, JC is pulling the hat off and dropping it over the back of the couch.
"Itches," JC mumbles, and snuggles down closer to Lance. "Might have to get rid of it."
"You should keep it," Lance says, and smiles. "It's very you."
*
For puszysty who requested: A Lance ficlet involving JC and the beach? :)
JC does not approve of sex on the beach. It's itchy and sandy and gross and outside and did he mention sandy? Because the thing about sand is, it gets everywhere. It doesn't matter if you lay down a towel or a blanket or a fucking tarp, the shit gets everywhere and it gets IN everywhere and okay, so maybe if he's doing it with someone really hot and fantastic, the washing process can be kind of hot, but really, JC would prefer to avoid it altogether. He's rich, he can afford a nice bed.
Also, the beach isn't remotely as romantic as people think. There are sharks in the ocean, JC is pretty sure. He's seen all of the Jaws movies, so he knows. There are sharks, and sharks eat people. Also, sting rays. Which don't actually eat people, but can be deadly nonetheless. So the beach? Not romantic. The beach is deadly and scary and itchy, especially at night. JC thinks he can almost feel all the shark eyes on him. They're probably thinking, "Mmmm, fresh meat. A little skinny, but we can tell he takes care of his skin. He'll go nice with some Chianti and blood."
"JC," Lance says, arms wrapped around his waist from behind, chin resting on JC's shoulder, "don't be ridiculous. Sharks are really, really stupid. Seriously, they have tiny brains. There's no way they even know what Chianti is."
Then Lance is turning him around and kissing him and cupping JC's dick through his shorts with one hot palm, which pretty much makes JC forget about the sharks and almost about the sting rays, but those were really just a distance worry anyway, because sharks might come up on the beach if they're, like, super-charged, genetically-altered, government-controlled sharks, but sting rays will pretty much stay in the water. Probably. JC hopes.
And then Lance is pulling him down onto the blanket, tugging JC's shorts off and pulling him on top, and oh, yeah, this is pretty much the perfect solution to the whole sand debacle. Lance can be his sand-barrier. Lance can definitely be his sand-barrier, JC thinks cheerfully as Lance's fingers press up and in, in, two fingers twisting inside him and Lance smiling below him, eyes bright in the weak moonlight and yeah, JC can't even remember the word 'shark' right now.
Lance inside him is pretty much the best feeling ever. Lance inside him, filling him, the slow stretch and burn of it, the way Lance's mouth goes slack and his fingers tighten around JC's hips. The way he moans and grinds up when JC leans down to kiss him, the way Lance shudders and twists beneath him when JC leans back and swivels his hips, slow and hard.
So, JC doesn't really approve of sex on the beach. It's itchy and sandy and not romantic at all (because, hello, dangerous sea creatures that probably want nothing more than a JC-shaped midnight snack in their fishy bellies!), but after, when he's laying on top of Lance, all boneless and satisfied and, yeah, sticky with come and sweat, but that would happen in a bed, too. After, when he's laying on top of Lance, Lance's fingers trailing up and down his spine, he thinks that maybe, just this once, he can make an exception.
*
For nopsued who requested: Any pairing you like, with sex and food, please. (A/N: for the record, the pairing is Lance/Mochas)
Every morning Lance wakes up, drinks a glass of vegetable juice that he hates because seriously, anything that tastes like that and doesn't contain vodka should be illegal based on sheer disgustingness, and goes running. Sometimes he runs with his trainer, sometimes he runs on his own, but he always stops at the Starbucks on the way back and buys a double chocolate soy mocha, no-whip, because damnit, he works hard, and he deserves things that taste good.
It's the best part of his day, drinking his mocha. He jogs right up to the door of the Starbucks and it's always the same girl at the register on weekdays. Her name is Mary and she's fabulous and she already knows what he wants. She doesn't even seem to mind that Lance's cash comes from his shoe and is gross and sweaty, although she does wear plastic gloves after the first day, but Lance isn't offended. He just wants his mocha. Mary the Barista is happy to oblige. She seems to have a new and interesting facial piercing every week. Lance thinks maybe he's in love, although that's probably just the chocolate and caffeine talking.
So Lance has his routine, and everyday he gets his mocha and it's a good routine. It goes on for months and months and Lance is pretty happy. He maybe doesn't lose weight as quickly as he would because of the added sugar or whatever, but he doesn't really care because he's rich and famous, he doesn't need to be super skinny to get guys. He already has a guy, anyway, and his mochas-his top secret, delicious, lovely mochas-and Lance really loves his routine. This week, Mary has taken out her eyebrow ring and added a nose stud. Lance thinks it matches her septum piercing quite nicely, and he's smiling as he turns away from the counter, already taking greedy sips from his delicious, chocolate-and-espresso-filled cup.
And then his smile slips away and he glares instead, lifting the cup defiantly to his mouth and taking a huge gulp. Justin, sitting at one of the little round tables in the corner with a ridiculous hat and sunglasses on, just glares back and raises his eyebrows questioningly.
"What?" Lance says, throwing himself into the chair opposite Justin and clutching his cup to his chest. He half-expects Justin to try to take it away. Justin's such a jerk sometimes, and Lance considers telling him so, telling him that not everyone has to be perfect like Justin, but on the other hand, Justin is a lot bigger than Lance and could probably take the mocha away, easy, so Lance just shuts up and drinks as fast as he can. "What?" he says again. Justin is just staring. It's freaky.
"Nothing, dude," Justin says, and his lips twitch a little like he's trying to keep from smiling. Probably trying to keep from laughing at Lance and his mocha addiction, but whatever, because mochas taste good and Lance loves them forever and ever and he's not giving them up, damnit. He's not. "I just," Justin grins, "I just never thought never thought my big competition for your love and devotion would be coffee, that's all."
"It's not just coffee, it's a mocha."
"In that case, I'm really worried, man." Justin nudges his foot under the table. "This is the part where you tell me not to worry, that you love me forever and we're gonna go home right now so you can prove it."
"That's. Yes, that's a good idea," Lance says. "Because you know, as much as I love mochas, they don't have dicks."
"It's good to know that at least there's one thing I have that they don't. Come on, seriously, let's go." Justin takes his sunglasses off, leans forward and gives Lance this look, all hot and ready and Lance just knows Justin's already hard and it's, yeah, it's very tempting but-
"In a minute," Lance says. "I have to finish my mocha."
*
And an apology to msktrnanny, who wanted JoLa, with a long-standing inside joke: I tried really really hard to write it, and failed, miserably. Maybe someone else can take on the challenge for me? *pokes flist*