Selfish: And My Heart Gets No Rest Over You
by Karen and LB
© 2002
JC smiles sweetly at yet another anonymous girl in the club. It's a fair trade. He had fun dancing with her and she felt special for that moment at least. And, since the object of his affection hadn't once glanced his way tonight, he guessed she had made him feel special too. As he makes his way back to the table, he chides himself for jumping so eagerly when Lance had said, off-handedly, "Come out with us, tonight, C. You stay in too much." He'd jumped like that guy's dogs. Pavlov? But it's hard to say no to Lance. Especially since JC really doesn't want to.
The club is hopping, just the way Lance likes it. Lots of people, lots of music, lots of drinks. A chance to blend in. Well, as much as one of the world's most famous celebrities can blend in. He spots Joey across the room, doing what Joey does best--hamming it up. Keri in the corner, chatting up some club kid. And JC at the table. Lance smiles and does a little dance, hoping to lure JC back onto the dance floor. His friend has seemed so pensive lately that Lance thought a night on the town would loosen him up a bit.
JC smiles back and heads over to the dance floor. "Hey, there," he says foolishly as he joins Lance.
"Heyyyyyyy. You need to dance," Lance yells over the music, leaning close to JC's ear.
"I WAS dancing," JC replies, leaning a little closer than strictly necessary.
JC's breath on Lance's face feels strangely enticing. Lance throws an arm around his friend, shaking him gently. "You don't look like you're having fun. You need to have fun."
JC shakes his head, making the long layers of his hair fly up then settle around his face. "I AM having fun. See?" he smiles, the same sweet smile he'd used on the girl only minutes ago. "This is me, having fun."
"Your hair's having fun. You're not. Let me buy you a drink."
"I HAD a drink. Over there." JC giggles. "That's what I was doing over there, having my drink. So, yeah, you probably owe me one, making me come all the way over here."
Lance leans around JC to see the table. "Oh, sorrrrrry, making you walk all the way over HERE. C'mon, I do owe you one. You must be worn out from that LONG walk over HERE." Lance leads JC over to the bar and signals the bartender. He orders the drinks and heads over to a quieter area at the back of the VIP section.
JC follows, smiling. It's not often he sees Lance let down his guard these days. Not often, either, that he sees him out when he's NOT surrounded by his tight-knit group of friends. As they sit, Lance surveys the room. His friends seem occupied, so he turns his attention to his bandmate. "You okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Do I sound defensive? JC wonders.
Lance shrugs. "You just don't seem to be thrilled to be here."
JC shrugs in turn. "I used up all my hyper onstage.”
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Don't you have to wait for your crew?”
“They'll be okay. They know where the hotel is.”
“Okay," JC says, downing the rest of his drink. "Let's go."
Lance can feel this strange, tantalizing tension as they weave through the crowd, slapping hands and hugging his friends as they pass. When the cool night air hits him, Lance takes a deep breath and spots Mike with one of the cars parked at the curb. He's acting on impulse, he knows, but right now he's not going to think about it.
JC's not thinking too much either, as if even to wonder how they ended up together like this would burst the bubble of . . . what? Anticipation? No, not that, because JC knows nothing will come of this. They'll go back to the hotel, back to their rooms, back to their intertwined but ultimately separate lives.
When they reach the hotel, neither speaks. Lance leads the way to the elevators, then up to his floor, then down the hall to his room. "Want to come in?”
“Um, sure."
Lance unlocks the door and passes through, turning on only a few lamps. He tosses his wallet on the dresser and checks for messages. "Want something to drink?”
“Yeah," JC says, standing, uncomfortable, in the middle of the room.
"You sure you're okay?" Lance asks, as he reaches in the refrigerator and takes out two bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade.
"You keep asking me that, dude." JC flops down onto the couch. "I was okay; I am okay.”
“Okay." Lance giggles, handing JC the bottle and taking a sip from his own. He falls down next to his friend. "But if you need to talk, I'm here."
"Uh huh. Cause you're a real sympathetic ear kind of guy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you're usually busy with other stuff."
"Just 'cause I'm busy doesn't mean I don't have time for my friends."
"When was the last time you and me sat down like this?"
Lance shrugs. "We see each other all the time."
"It's just . . . " For someone who spends a lot of time making words say exactly what he wants to on paper, in lyrics, JC has an incredibly hard time, sometimes, making them say what he wants to in real life. He hesitates. " It's just, well, we used to all be so close and all. And now . . . I miss that, is all."
"We still are. We just have other things going on right now. Just 'cause I've got Happy Place and Free Lance, doesn't mean 'N Sync isn't still my number one priority." He takes a sip of the cool beverage, wondering when JC became so insecure.
"You just don't get it." JC takes a healthy swig, sorry he brought this up, but unwilling to let it go now that he has. He searches again for words, and to his surprise they start tumbling out. "Listen to yourself. I'm talking about friendship, about closeness, and you're telling me which one of your businesses is most important to you."
Lance looks down at the floor as though he'd been punched. "Oh. I didn't mean it to sound that way. You KNOW how important your friendship is to me. You guys are my brothers. I'm closer to you than anyone else besides my parents. You know stuff about me that no one else knows. I'm sorry if lately I've been preoccupied. I guess I just take it for granted that you guys are always there."
"I'm sorry. It's not just you. It's everyone, you know? You've got your stuff. Chris has FuMan. Joey's on the phone making baby noises to Brianna ten hours a day. Justin and Britney spend all their time together. This tour has just been different." JC hesitates again, then almost whispers. "Lonelier."
Lance brings a comforting hand to JC's shoulder. "Bobbie hasn't been around much. I'm sorry. I didn't realize."
JC shrugs off Lance's hand. "Perfect example. Bobbie and I haven't been together for MONTHS. And you didn't even notice."
Staring at his rejected hand, unable to comprehend why JC is so angry with him, Lance grows silent. "I thought something might be wrong, but I thought you wanted to keep it private. You never said anything."
His voice softer, sad rather than angry, JC says, "A year ago I wouldn't have had to."
"Have things changed that much?" Lance asks, trying to see JC's eyes.
JC looks up, his eyes very blue and suspiciously moist. "You don't think so?”
“Things are always gonna change, JC. But one thing will never change: our friendship. If I'm busy, just pull me aside. That's what we're supposed to do--keep each other in line. Keep each other grounded.”
“Yeah," JC says, and finishes off his Mike's in one swallow. He imagines himself trying to pull Lance aside when he feels like talking and Lance is busy. It's not a pretty picture. "I should," he mutters, gesturing toward the door. "Get out of your hair.”
“You're not IN my hair," Lance states flatly. "See?" He tilts his head toward JC.
JC attempts a half-hearted laugh that ends in almost a sob. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. I'm just . . . I'm just . . . "
Lance hears the pain in his friend's voice and his heart skips a beat. He puts down his drink. "Just what?" he asks, his voice soft and full of genuine concern.
"I don't even know. Maybe a little drunk. Feeling sorry for myself?"
“Lonely?"
JC nods. "Lonely," he replies, barely audible.
Lance doesn't think; he just acts. "Hey. Hey," he repeats, and when JC looks up Lance cups his chin and brings his lips to JC's.
It's what JC has wanted so much for so long. But he never for a moment thought it could actually happen. He's caught up in the moment, open, acquiescent, completely enthralled.
Lance releases JC and gazes into his eyes. "Better?"
"Yeah," JC breathes, wondering how one kiss could leave him both shaky and elated.
Fingering JC's long, wavy locks, Lance says, almost regretfully, "Maybe we should call it a night."
"Do we have to?"
"Yeah. I've had a lot to drink, you've had a lot to drink, and things . . . happen."
JC looks at Lance with his whole soul in his eyes. "Would that be so bad?"
What to do? If he lets JC stay, Lance might be sending the wrong message. But his friend looks so sad, and Lance does feel something for him. He has for a while now. "No."
JC lifts one hand to Lance's face, touching it as if it were porcelain, sculpture, art. "Then kiss me again."
Lance complies, but there's a part of him that thinks they should stop before things get out of hand. Right now, though, he lets impulse take over because it feels so good.
JC practically melts into the embrace. It feels like forever since he's been touched like this, and the fact that it's Lance is like a dream come true.
Lance begins to lower JC to the cushions as his tongue probes JC's hot mouth. It's been so long since he felt this way about someone that he's terrified of giving himself over.
The hand that's not cradling Lance's face wraps around his midsection as they sink down and JC holds Lance tightly to him.
With JC encouraging him this way it's taking every ounce of restraint to hold back. Lance even tries to keep his hips elevated so JC won't feel how aroused he's making him.
JC pushes upward with his hips, pressing against Lance as his tongue delves deeper into Lance's mouth. He tastes lemonade and a flavor that is uniquely Lance.
Lance feels JC's eagerness, but it's too intense. He pulls back, catching his breath. "JC, we don't have to do this."
"You don't want me?"
Lance sits up. "I like you, JC. I really do. But I don't want to rush into anything."
JC is left blinking up at the ceiling. "Six years is rushing?”
“We never did this before."
"No, but it's not like we're strangers.”
“In a way . . . we've never seen this side of each other."
He is not going to lie here and beg, that's one thing JC knows. He's just so confused, though. One moment he's got exactly what he wants and the next he's being rejected. The sweet taste is gone from his mouth, replaced by bitterness. He sits up. "I should go.”
“Yeah," Lance agrees, almost sadly. "Hey, I was gonna get up early and go for a run tomorrow. Want to come?"
JC looks up, hope rekindling in his eyes. "How early?”
“Ten?"
JC glances at the clock and shudders. "Call me?"
Smiling, Lance takes JC's hand and pulls him to his feet. "Sure. It'll be great. It'll wake you up. And . . . we'll have a chance to talk."
"You know me in the morning. Don't expect too much.”
“That's okay. We don't have to do anything but run if you want. But I'd like the company."
"Yeah, that sounds good." JC hesitates, feeling the awkwardness of the transition from kisses back to . . . whatever. Does he just walk out? Does he kiss Lance good night? "Um, see ya tomorrow, then."
Still holding JC's hand, Lance takes the other, sensing JC's anxiety. "Tomorrow," he says softly, then kisses JC. He lets his lips linger for a moment, then releases him. "Sweet dreams."
"Yeah, you too." JC almost stumbles on his way to the door and blushes. At the door he turns, sending his sweet smile across the room. "Night."