Reviews

by Karen and LB
© 2002

JC wakes up to a pair of very brown eyes watching him. Feeling guilty, he reaches for the brown-eyed boy and pulls him into a hug. "I miss Lance too, dude," he whispers. "But he's home now." Jackson lets out a sad little whimpery sound and JC sits up. "C'mon, let's get you some Puppy Chow." Lance's flight had been so delayed last night that he finally told JC to go to forget about picking him up at the airport and to come over in the morning, instead. So JC'd had one more night of puppy-sitting and missing Lance. JC feeds the puppy, then walks him. Leaving Jackson with several toys, he showers and dresses, then loads him into his carrier. JC spends ten more minutes searching for the puppy's favorite squeaky toy, which he finds under the couch. He'd bought lots of toys for Jackson when he'd agreed to pet sit--even food and water dishes so Lance wouldn't have to pack them every time. The one toy always travels with the puppy. JC takes Jackson out to his car and heads over to Lance's house.

For the first time in a long time, Lance doesn't want to get out of bed. Normally, even after lots of travel and appearances and shows, Lance still finds himself getting up at a decent time and going about his day with the usual amount of energy. Not today. Today, he just wants to unplug every one of his phones and keep the door locked and hope the world just goes away.

Lance knows it shouldn't bother him. He knows what other people say shouldn't matter. What CRITICS say. It's their job, after all. But they're not the people important to him. He knows it's what his parents think, what his friends think, what JC thinks, that matters most. He remembers all the hard work that went into the movie, how much people believed in it and poured their hearts and sweat into making it happen.

No matter what he tells himself, however, he still feels the sting of the words. Wendy tried to get him not to read the papers, and Joey just laughed them off. Lance tried to laugh too and made a show of not caring. But when he got home, he put the papers in a stack in his office and crawled into bed and cried.

JC lets himself in with his key in case Lance is still asleep. He punches in the alarm code, then lets Jackson out of his carrier. Scooping the puppy up, he whispers "Let's go find Daddy."

Lance rolls over, clutching his pillow, one leg under the blanket, one on top. He thinks of all the things he could have done better, then tries to focus on the things he felt he did well. Then he remembers Ebert's words and once again feels that stab. He wonders what his friends really think of the movie and if they've just been lying to protect his feelings. He wonders if JC's been lying.

JC peeks into Lance's bedroom, and his heart give a painful little thump as he sees the forlorn figure on the bed. Lance looks small and vulnerable and lonely. Jackson gives a little yip of excitement at seeing his Lance, and struggles to get down.

Lance turns, hearing the familiar voice of his little friend and smiles. If there's one being who will think nothing but the best of him, it's his furry child. He holds out his hands, bleary-eyed, and manages a "Hey, darlin'," to JC and, "come here, Jackson. Come to Daddy."

JC walks over to the bed and deposits Jackson onto Lance's chest. "We missed you," he says as Jackson excitedly starts licking Lance's face.

"I missed you too." The dog jumps excitedly and his whole body shakes. "I did, yes I did," he baby-talks to the puppy. "Were you a good boy? Were you Daddy's good little boy?" As if in answer the dog turns around and around on the bed. Lance chuckles, glad to have both his friends home. "Was he good? Did he have any accidents?"

"Hims was da best widdle puppy in da whole world," JC replies as Jackson curls up next to Lance, looking up at him with adoring puppy eyes. JC stretches out on the other side of the puppy and leans over to kiss Lance lightly, tasting salt. "How are you? Really."

"Tired. Jet-lagged. I probably smell real good too."

Just then the puppy starts sniffing and nuzzling Lance's shirt. "No one here seems to mind."

"Dogs are attracted to odor. He's not a good judge." Lance curls his hand around the tiny body and snuggles Jackson.

"I am." JC snuggles closer, still leaving a comfortable space for Jackson. "What can I do for you? You wanna sleep more? You want breakfast?"

Lance rubs his eyes and yawns, and the dog yawns along with him. He smiles, cupping the dog's chin. "I guess I could eat something. Did he eat?" Jackson looks up with a hopeful "I've never been fed in my entire life" expression.

JC rubs between the puppy's ears. "Don't let him fool you. He ate. He was spoiled all weekend."

Lance rolls onto his back and lifts the dog in the air. "You were, were you? You're gonna get fat, you know that? No French toast for you."

"Until he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes," JC says.

"He's got us both wrapped around his little paw. He knows it. I know it. How could anyone refuse this face?"

"Either of those faces." JC sits up. "I'll go start breakfast. Take your time."

Before JC is off the bed, Lance takes his hand. "Thanks . . . for watching him."

"Any time, babe. I liked having him around. Someone else who missed you as much as I did."

When JC leaves the room, Lance sits up, holding Jackson in his lap. Jackson watches his owner, panting and flicking out his tongue at Lance's hands without a care in the world. Right now, Lance envies him. He dreads the pity he'll receive from his friends after they read the reviews. He's already gotten voice messages from Eric telling him not to worry. Knowing he can't stay in bed all day, Lance heaves himself off the mattress and pads to the bathroom, Jackson at his heels. He showers slowly, letting the water massage his tired muscles until his skin begins to prune. Dressing in jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, he heads downstairs to the kitchen, the smell of vanilla and coffee hitting him before he reaches the landing. "Smells delicious," Lance comments when he enters the kitchen and sees JC standing over the sink. He comes up behind his friend and kisses him on the neck. "You want to eat outside?"

JC points out the table already set for two. "Your OJ is already out there."

"I knew there's a reason I love you." He gives JC a gentle squeeze and walks outside, his bare feet warmed by the sun-drenched patio. The table umbrella provides some shade, but Lance puts on his sunglasses anyway. His eyes were still red from crying, and he'd rather not JC notice.

JC pours coffee into two mugs and brings them outside with the platter of warm, sugar-sprinkled French toast. He trots back in and finds a puppy treat for Jackson, and they all settle down to eat. Lance chews in silence, pondering the weekend's events. He still doesn't get it: When he and Joey slipped in quietly to a movie theater in Vegas the audience seemed to really be enjoying the film. Whatever, he tells himself. "We going to Johnny's today?"

"Yeah. If you still want to."

"Sure. I mean, we have to start talking about the tour and the new album and stuff."

"Yeah. I worked on some songs while you were gone. Jackson helped."

This evokes a chuckle. "I bet he did. He likes to sing. So what've you got?"

"Sing? Keyboards, dude. He likes to walk on them."

"Are you saying he wrote the new song?"

"He contributed. Well, he peed on the music paper."

Lance shakes his head in disbelief. "You told me he was good."

"He was. He went on the paper." JC scoops Jackson up off the chair he'd curled up on. "Didn't you?" he asks, holding the puppy aloft. "And, um, I may have waited too long to take him outside."

"Am I gonna have to swat you both on the nose?"

Two pairs of eyes, one blue and one brown, are turned on Lance. "No," JC says. "We'll be good."

"When I wanted him paper trained, I kind of had newspaper in mind." But Lance is smiling anyway. "I should have taken him with me."

"Nah. I liked having him with me. And he IS learning. He hung on till I got paper down."

"Did you have a copy of it?"

"Yeah. The one I gave Jackson was, like, an early attempt."

"So do I get to hear it?"

"Yeah. It's in the car. Give me a minute." JC jumps up and heads for the driveway. "You wait here," he says to Jackson, who's jumped down and is trotting after him.

Lance works on his breakfast, tossing a scrap to the pleading puppy, glad to have him back. Glad to have them both back.

JC pulls his walkman out of the car. He checks it for the tape, then, as he walks back, turns it on. The battery's definitely low, so he makes a detour into Lance's study. Lance always has batteries in the desk drawer. He puts down the walkman and roots through the drawer, then notices what he'd put the machine down on. Newspapers. Somehow he'd hoped that with all his traveling, Lance had managed to escape the reviews. He should have known better. Lance doesn't do anything halfway.

Lance sips his coffee, then decides to check the pool. He has a guy come once a week to take care of it, but sometimes Lance likes the mundane tasks of checking the filter and cleaning the bugs and leaves from the surface. He makes sure that Jackson is well clear from the edge of the pool before grabbing the net. The last thing he needs right now is a drowned dog.

JC quickly looks through the stack of papers, reading reviews that are mostly negative. They've all tried to become thick-skinned about this stuff, but these seem, even to his accustomed eye, to be personal and unnecessarily harsh. With a sigh, JC heads back outside. He watches for a moment, as Lance skims the pool, Jackson behind him trying to catch the handle of the net. Then he walks over and drops light hands onto Lance's shoulders.

"You find the tape?"

"Yeah. Remember: it's rough." JC slips the headset onto Lance's ears, and unclips the walkman from his jeans, handing it to Lance. Lance puts down the net and sits on one of the lounge chairs. His head bobs in time with the music, and he smiles when it's done. "It's really good. The guys are gonna love this."

"Thanks." JC squats in front of Lance, trying to look at his face. He reaches up and removes Lance's sunglasses, wincing at the sight of his still red-rimmed eyes. "Oh, babe . . . "

Lance turns his head away, not wanting to cry again but feeling the lump well in his throat at the look of pity on his friend's face. "It's nothing. Lack of sleep."

"Yeah, I know." JC crawls up onto the lounge, wrapping himself around Lance like a blanket. Lance doesn't say anything, just hugs him back. Hugs him like he hasn't hugged anyone in days. Weeks. Months.

JC tightens his grip on Lance, murmuring "I'm here." They hold each other as tightly as possible for long moments, until Jackson jumps up and tries to wriggle his way between the two boys, intent on licking Lance's face.

Lance gives the dog some room. "At least someone doesn't think my movie sucks."

"It doesn't," JC says emphatically. "I know it's hard not to listen to critics, but you know you can't."

"I know. That's what everyone says. But did you read them?"

"Yeah, I did. They were brutal. But most of them had decided what to say before they saw the movie."

"So I'll never get past that. They'll always think of me as 'N Sync."

"You just have to prove them wrong."

"I want to. But I don't know if anyone will even want me to do another movie."

"That's why you have to keep making movies yourself. Keep doing it until you have enough power that no one can pull the rug out from under you again."

"There's always going to be someone with more power."

"Yeah, but you have it in you to be one of them. If you want it."

"I want it. I really want it."

"Then go after it. I will always support you on this. Even if you did let them cut my scene."

"Ouch. You know that wasn't my decision. It was a time thing. Eric didn't want to do it, but he had to."

"I know. I'm just teasing you, baby."

"Maybe if we'd left you in, the critics wouldn't hate it so much."

"Or they would have hated it more. They're like beings from another planet."

Lance falls back against the chair, pulling Jackson with him. "I guess we can write this one off. The worst part is, so many people worked so hard on it."

"I know it's hard to remember, but a LOT of people enjoyed it, too."

"I keep wondering what we could have done different. What we need to do better next time."

"You're too close to it right now. Give yourself time."

"I really thought it was the kind of movie everyone would want to see. Especially now."

"I know. The timing seemed perfect."

"What's wrong with people that they don't want to see a romantic comedy? Was I, um, really that bad?"

"You were really that . . . you. Most of those critics had written you off before they saw a single frame."

"But a lot of them DID see. Roger Ebert saw it."

"With an open mind?"

"He's the best critic out there. People listen to him."

"I know. Still doesn't mean he didn't go in with his mind already made up. But at least he recognized you had chemistry with Em."

Lance scratches behind Jackson's ears and ponders JC's words. "If he only knew how much acting it took to kiss her."

"He's got nothing to compare it to. Someday, we'll have to give him a chemistry lesson."

"How about you give me a lesson right now?"

"Only if you promise to do your homework," JC replies, leaning in to brush his lips lightly against Lance's.

"What's the homework?"

"Practicing the lesson, of course."

"I think I need lots of practice." Lance gives Jackson one more rub and deposits him on the ground, where he sniffs around for a minute before crawling into the shade under the chair.

"Practice makes perfect," JC agrees, sliding up so they're sharing the narrow space.

Lance pulls JC onto his stomach the way he'd done with Jackson earlier. "You already are."

"I love you, too."

Lance pulls JC into a kiss, a loving, sweet, thanks-for-being-there kiss. JC sinks into the kiss, pressing Lance into the lounge they both lie on.

When their lips finally part, Lance wraps his arms around JC, holding him close, breathing in his clean, outdoor scent.

"I don't . . . " JC says, dropping little kisses on Lance's cheek and jaw, "...think you need any lessons."

"I think I need . . . you."

"You have me. Always."

"I couldn't have done it without you, you know."

"Aw, I didn't do anything."

"You did a lot. You supported me. You listened when I needed to talk things out. You put up with my schedule. I don't know anyone else who would do that."

"You would do that. You have done that."

"I'd do it for you."

"You always have. When I'm in one my studio things and I forget to eat. When the critics ripped me for Space Cowboy . . . "

Lance cocks his head. "Who ripped you? It's a great song. Everyone loves that song."

"And lots of people love your movie. You just gotta focus on the ones who do."

"The 'N Sync fans will see it no matter what. Sure, I did it for them. But I was hoping that people who don't normally listen to our music would see it too and like it."

"I know. And they're missing out, 'cause if they'd just SEE it they'd like it."

"They wouldn't even show it at all the theaters I was told it would. They almost didn't even show it back home."

"That's like the stupidest thing EVER."

"I know. I was so mad when I found out. If I had to, I would have rented the theater myself and shown it."

"And I would have gone THERE to see it <mumble> times in the first weekend."

Lance lifts his head, smiling.

"What was that? I didn't catch that."

JC reddens. "Um, fifteen."

Lance pushes him away. "Only fifteen? Some friend you are."

"I went to every showing."

"When? While I was away? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. The whole weekend, I went to as many shows as I could."

"You sat in the movie theater all that time? Oh, I get it, it's a great place for a nap."

"I didn't sit in the movie theatre the whole time. I went home to check on Jackson in between. Except the shows I sneaked him in. And I didn't sleep, either."

"You brought Jackson in and NO ONE found out?"

"Nope. He was so good. Just curled up in my lap and slept."

"See, I knew someone slept through my movie. Seriously, though, thanks. I can't believe you sat through it so many times. You must have gotten sick of it after, like, the third time."

"I never get tired of looking at you."

"Even when I look like a dork? Aw, darlin' come here." Lance brings his hands to JC's face and pulls him down into a tender kiss.

"Never look like a dork," JC murmurs against Lance's mouth.

"Have I told you today how much I love you?"

"Not today," JC says sadly. "Not for days and days."

"Then I guess I have a lot to make up for." He kisses JC. "I love you." He kisses him again. "I love you." And again, until it turns from words into a tangible feeling that covers them like a warm blanket.

JC returns Lance's kisses, murmurs responses to Lance's declarations, and slides his arms under and around Lance, squeezing Lance for all he's worth. Lance hugs back, never wanting to let go. It feels so good. So good, after all the weeks of traveling, promoting, interviews, photo shoots. It feels real. JC kisses the soft underside of Lance's chin. "When are we supposed to be at Johnny's?"

"Later. Late. We could be late. We're gonna be late."

JC lifts himself to look down at Lance with smouldering eyes. "How late?"

"As late as it takes."

"Very, very, very late," JC agrees, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Lance feels such a warmth spread through his body that even the Florida sunshine can't compete. He slips his hands under JC's shirt and feels even more heat coming off his lover's skin. His hands trace the contours of each strong muscle of JC's chest before they find the small soft nipples, which Lance teases with his thumbs.

JC kisses and licks Lance's neck and chin over and over before moving back to his hot, delicious mouth. Lance's arousal is evident and he shifts restlessly, bringing one knee up as he lifts JC's shirt higher. JC shifts so his own growing erection is pressed hard against Lance's. He rocks his body against Lance's in a rhythm like breathing, like a heartbeat, and just as essential.

Lance urges JC on, rubbing his groin in time with JC's motions, moaning softly in his mouth so the vibration penetrates his whole body. JC sits up, straddling Lance, keeping the sweet pressure on Lance's crotch. He quickly strips both of their shirts off, then pauses, running one finger over the smooth expanse of Lance's chest, admiring the play of muscles as it rises and falls.

A shiver ripples through Lance at the light touch, and he watches the path of the finger as it travels his body. His hands are on JC's thighs, and even through JC's tight jeans he can feel the strong muscles contracting as his hands move higher to the hot bulge at the top.

JC lets his head fall back, savoring the sensations coursing through him. Then he falls forward, plummeting into Lance's arms again, hungrily seeking his mouth. Lance returns the kiss just as eagerly; after days of separation he needed this more than any positive review for his movie. He fumbles with JC's zipper for a minute, then slips his hand inside to touch the waiting heat. JC gasps against Lance's mouth, breathing him in. He peels himself away from Lance, rising to shed his remaining clothing, then kneeling to remove Lance's.

One of the advantages to being a celebrity is having a house with a lot of privacy. The fence and high hedges around Lance's property provide enough seclusion from prying eyes that the boys are able to enjoy their freedom. It's only Jackson's curious sniffing at the discarded clothing that reminds Lance that they're not alone. But Jackson is more interested in the clothes than in what his owner is doing at the moment, so Lance returns his attention to JC's sun- drenched naked form. "You're beautiful, you know," he remarks. "YOU should do a movie."

"Only if we get a love scene," JC replies as Jackson curls up on the pile of clothing for a nap.

"Well, since I'm such a bad actor I'm gonna need lots of rehearsal time."

JC leans in to plant a kiss over Lance's heart. "You are NOT a bad actor. But even the best need rehearsal."

"I think by the time we're done, I'm gonna be ready for an Oscar."

Licking his way to one nipple, JC murmurs "I'd like to thank the academy . . . and all the people who made this all possible. And the love of my life."

Breathing heavily, Lance curls his hands around JC's long hair. "I'd like to thank YOU for being so talented."

JC wraps a hand around Lance's erection. "This is better than any Oscar."

"It's all yours," Lance groans.

"Did I tell you I always wanted to kiss an Oscar?" JC asks as he replaces his hand with his lips, placing small kisses up and down the shaft.

Lance arches his back and gasps his pleasure as JC's warm mouth engulfs him. "I can change my name."

JC chuckles, letting the sound vibrate along Lance's erection. He keeps his movements small, subtle, but he can tell from the little noises and twitches Lance makes that he can fell every tiny touch.

And Lance does. JC doesn't even have to make physical contact for Lance to feel him. Sometimes when they're making love Lance almost believes they're one person.

JC stops what he's doing and turns his face up to Lance, the dazzle of the sun in his newly opened eyes turning them vividly blue. "I need you in me," he rasps.

Lance's heart beats wildly at the suggestion; it's what he wanted all weekend. He bends his knees, nudging JC forward, and brushes the hair from his handsome face. "I owe you one, for seeing my movie so much." He reaches down between his legs and spreads the first drops of his semen on his hardened shaft, then over JC's opening to provide some lubrication. Both bodies are covered in a sheen of sweat, so when he lowers JC onto his hot organ it's like slipping his hand into a glove.

"That's the only reason?" JC mock-pouts.

"And for taking care of Jackson."

JC lifts himself up and slams himself back down on Lance. "So any pet- sitter who shells out the cash for your movie?"

"Not just any," Lance groans as his lover takes him in. He thrusts his hips upward, impaling JC.

"A select few?" JC growls, his teeth gritted against the exquisite pleasure.

"I'm . . . narrowing . . . it . . . down," Lance replies, gripping JC's hips and creating a delicious rhythm.

"So . . . selectivvvve . . . " JC sputters into inarticulateness as his mind stops working and the passion of their lovemaking takes over.

Soon the only sounds are the waves lapping against the edge of the nearby pool and the soft panting of the two boys as they near climax. Lance thrusts faster, unable to hold back after days of being apart from his lover. He brings one hand to JC's neglected erection and strokes it firmly, watching every movement, every muscle of JC's body ripple and contract. JC leans forward, supporting himself on strong arms as he meets every thrust. "Missed you so bad," he whispers.

"Makes the reunion that much better," Lance whimpers, unable to hold on any longer as he finds his release with a soft cry, waking Jackson and causing him to lift his head curiously. JC follows almost immediately, exploding with a whimper that makes Jackson prick up his ears. His head drops over Lance's, his hair almost brushing Lance's face.

Trying to catch his breath, Lance holds JC close, not yet wanting to release him. Spent, he turns his head to the side to see Jackson prancing toward him. "It's okay, baby, Daddy's okay."

Jackson cocks his head to one side and carefully examines both boys. Satisfied, he returns to the pile of clothing and settles into it.

"Guess we shouldn't do this in front of the baby from now on."

"Yeah, we don't want to traumatize him."

"Who's talking about him? I don't know if I can handle being watched again. Now I know I'll never do a sex scene."

JC shakes his head, tickling Lance's face with his shaggy locks. "Dork."

Lance pulls one of JC's hairs out of his mouth. "There's a reason I got a small dog." But Lance is smiling.

"You love me even if I DO shed."

"I'd love you even if you were bald."

"Aw, sweetie." JC climbs off Lance and stretches his long legs.

Feeling neglected, Jackson trots over and puts his paws on the edge of the chair. Lance lifts him up and places him on his chest. Jackson scampers about energetically, not knowing who to lick first, his owner or his friend. Lance looks at JC. "You wanna go for a swim?"

JC grins. "That's one way to clean off."

"Go on in. I just want to put Jackson inside so he doesn't try to jump in after us." Lance scoops up the dog and carries him inside to the kitchen, where there's a cage set up with newspapers inside. Lance pauses in front of the cage, then looks at the dog. "I think you need some new papers, what do you say?" As though Jackson understands, he swipes at Lance's face with his tongue, and they retreat to Lance's office, where he gathers up the reviews he'd stacked up. At least they'll be useful.

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