A Matter of Semantics

by Karen and LB
© 2002

A Larry King Interview story...

Lance shifts in his seat, hating that Larry just asked that question about girlfriends, knowing what the answers will be. Until he feels the hand on his back. It's such a subtle move, and no one even notices. No one but Lance.

JC hates having to do this to Lance, again. He rotely recites the rehearsed lines, hoping that his hand is giving Lance the reassurance he intends it to impart.

Lance concentrates on the mug of water on the desk. The interview is fun, and it's going well, but damn, that question. And the way JC so confidently answers it. But still, Lance smiles and speaks when he has to, but his eyes wander back to the desk every chance he gets. The hand on his back strokes gently, calmly, but Lance doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to just pretend like everything's okay.

JC can feel Lance's tension, knows he's angry, but what's he supposed to do? They'd agreed to live with this story, to protect themselves and the band. He wishes it were different, but for now, this is what they've got.

Lance toys with the handle of the mug. To the world, they appear to be five pretty together guys. Inside, Lance feels the lump in his throat and pushes it down. Last question, thank goodness. A little banter, some talk about doing a song, and it's over. Lance smiles and takes a deep breath, and the cameras are off.

There's still the ritual of shaking hands with Larry to deal with, but finally JC can look around for Lance. And sees him talking to Joey, teasing him about the "she said I had her child" comment, but with the saddest face. JC sighs, not knowing how to fix this.

Lance doesn't want to be upset--he really doesn't. But after JC's comment, and watching Chris suffer through numerous questions and comments about his breakup, Lance has had more than enough. He's trying to keep up the appearance of being happy, but with each passing minute all he wants to do is get out of here and have a drink.

It's finally time to go, and their bodyguards are ushering them to the SUVs that are their transportation for the night. As they walk, JC comes up next to Lance and touches his hand. He has no idea what to say, so he opts for nothing instead of something stupid, letting his eyes speak for him.

Lance can see the hurt in JC's eyes when he feels the brush of fingers against his own. He knows it's just as hard for JC as it is for himself. Lance nods, but he still feels the pain of having to go through this charade. He wished he could just scream out, "I'm seeing JC! JC is my BOYFRIEND! I'M DATING JC!"

JC takes Lance's hand in his, a bold gesture in this semi-public setting. But desperate times call for desperate measures. He squeezes lightly, hoping to impart some measure of comfort or support or--JC isn't even sure what. Maybe just THERE-ness.

Lance eyes grow wide for a second. To anyone watching, it would seem as though he'd just been briefly pinched or something to that effect. He pulls his hand away quickly, not wanting to draw attention. But a flicker of a smile plays across his lips at JC's daring move. He wills it away. He can't let JC think that holding his hand is just going to erase the hurt.

JC tries not to feel too hurt when Lance pulls away. He knows he messed up, he knows he needs to fix it. He just wants to get back to the hotel so they can fight--er--talk.

They all pile in the SUVs: Joey, Lance, and JC in one and Justin and Chris in the other. Joey suggests a place for dinner and then a club for their last night in LA, and before JC can say anything Lance says yes. So they all head off for dinner where they talk about the show and try to cheer up Chris, and then head to a nearby club, where Lance has maybe one too many hard lemonades.

JC watches Lance, his forced gaiety amplified by the alcohol. He's also avoiding JC, jumping up to dance (LANCE?) every time JC comes back to their booth. JC doesn't know whether to be relieved or angry that they're clearly not going to have a rational discussion about this tonight.

Finally, Lance decides he's had enough. Joey wants to stay, Chris has long gone back to the hotel, and Justin decides to stay with Joey. So it's just Lance and JC. Great, what a way to end the day, Lance thinks, his mind fuzzy. But boy, does he look good tonight. He wavers slightly, and staggers to the booth where JC is sitting, talking to Justin. "C'mon," he slurs, grabbing JC by the arm. "Time to go."

JC looks up into his friend's unfocused face. "Yeah, all right, I'm coming." He gets up, steadies Lance as he stumbles against him and heads for the door, tossing a goodbye to Justin over his shoulder.

Lance tries to stay focused on the short ride back to the hotel. He stumbles out of the van and the bodyguard rushes to help him, but JC shrugs him off, telling him that he'll make sure Lance gets upstairs in one piece.

"You're such a good boyfriend, Joshy," Lance slurs in the elevator. "And I'm such a bad girlfriend." He giggles drunkenly at his own joke.

"You're a drunk boyfriend, Lance," JC replies as he keeps Lance on his feet as the elevator stops. He manages to get Lance down the hall and into their room.

"No no no, I'm not the boyfriend, YOU'RE the boyfriend. I'm the GIRLfriend," he quips as JC deposits him on the bed.

"Whatever you say, DRUNKfriend." JC kneels to remove Lance's shoes.

Lance pushes himself up on his elbows. "I am NOT drunk. I am slightly inebriated." He breaks out in a fit of giggles and kicks his feet, almost hitting JC in the face. "Stop that, it tickles!"

"You want to sleep in your shoes? Be my guest." But JC finishes removing Lance's shoes and socks and starts working on his belt.

"Mmmm, careful, your girlfriend might get jealous."

"Lance, we are NOT taking about this while you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk! I'm fine. I'm just . . . horny."

"Then you're more drunk than I thought, because you're way too angry with me to be horny."

"Being angry always makes me horny. You know when we were sitting there, in Larry King's studio? I wanted to climb into your lap. I wanted to just climb right on top of you."

"I wanted you to."

"You want your GIRLFRIEND."

"Lance, I'm sorry. You KNOW we agreed to stick to these stories."

"I hate these stories. I hate your 'girlfriend'. I hate lying. I hate that I come off sounding like a loser. I hate that I can't just answer the question with, 'Sure, I'm seeing someone. I'm seeing JC. He's verrrrrry speshul to me.'"

"Don't you know that I want that too?"

"But you keep having to tell the world you have a girlfriend and I keep having to sit there listening to it."

"And I have to listen to you say you're not dating anyone at all. It sucks for both of us. But what can we do?"

"We can tell the whooooooole, fucking world." Lance, still laying on the bed, throws his arms out wide. "In fact, let's start right now." He struggles to his feet, catching himself on the edge of the bed and staggers to the balcony door.

"Lance!" JC is too slow to catch Lance before he wrenches the door open, but manages to grab him before he reaches the rail.

They're a lot higher up than Lance at first thought. He feels himself being pulled back from the cold, night air and back into the hotel room. "Let me go! I wanna tell everyone! I wanna tell everyone you're MY boyfriend!"

"Lance, you're gonna hurt yourself. Come ON."

"Let me go! Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!" Lance struggles in JC's grip, but he's too drunk to put up a fight. His body goes slack as the anger is drained out of him. "It's not fair, it's not fair . . . "

JC picks Lance up and carries him back inside. "No, baby, it's not. It's not."

"I hate feeling this way, I hate being mad at you," Lance sobs.

"I know, I know." JC says soothingly as he drops into a chair and holds Lance to him. "Go ahead and cry it out, Lance, I'm here."

"I just love you so much and it kills me that I can't say it. That everyone else can talk about their relationships--Justin and Britney, Joey and Kelly--but WE can't, like we have some sort of disease or something."

"I know, I know. But you have every right to be angry. I took it too far tonight and I'm sorry. But I was really talking about you. Whether you know it or not." JC's hand moves in soothing circles over Lance's back as he speaks.

"It wasn't you," Lance mutters. "It was THEM, making you say that. But every time you do, I feel so . . . inadequate."

"Inadequate? Lance, you're worth all of us put together. "

"Ha! You make me sound so sssspeshul. We're all speshul, Joshy." Lance pulls back from where JC had been cradling him and puts a finger on JC's chest. "But you're more speshul than anyone else in the whole wide world," Lance states, punctuating each word by poking JC.

"You're so discerning when you're drunk."

"Dishurn this." Lance presses his lips against JC's mouth; even in his drunken state his body still knows what it wants.

JC gently pushes Lance away. "Lance, there's about a million reasons we shouldn't do this right now. You're drunk and I don't want to take advantage of you. You're mad at me. Okay, that's only two, but they're good ones."

"I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at my Joshy. I want you to take advantage of me. Wait, I want to take advantage of you. We can take advantage of each other." Lance kisses JC again, this time harder.

JC knows he should protest more, but he doesn't really want to fight Lance on this. Maybe making love will help them feel connected again, assuage the pain of the lies they'd put between them. So JC tightens his arms around Lance and kisses him back.

Lance shifts awkwardly in JC's lap, not being at his most coordinated at this moment. He ends up half-straddling his more sober friend, with one foot on the floor and the other leg bent on the chair.

JC looks up into Lance's eyes, a little unfocused now, but still the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. With one arm holding his precariously perched lover in place, he uses the other hand to guide Lance's mouth back to his, licking at those full lips until they open for him.

Lance grips the back of the chair and presses his body against JC. He thrusts his hips, grinding his crotch into JC's lap as his tongue snakes out and probes JC's mouth.

JC's not sure he's ever seen Lance so aggressive, so needy. All he can do is sit back now and let Lance set the pace, let him get out of this what he needs.

Lance continues to grind into JC, pushing the older man as far into the chair as he is able. Lance is barely aware that JC isn't responding in his usual manner, and when he finally comes up for air, he slides off JC's lap and onto the floor. "You don't want me, do you," he states flatly.

"Of course I do, baby. I'm just not sure YOU know what you want." JC rises and offers his hand to Lance, helping up from the floor and leading him to the bed. "Besides, that chair was NOT very conducive to--well--anything."

Lance glances down at the bulge in his pants. "It's conducive to _something_." He flops onto the mattress and reaches a hand out to JC. "I know what I want, Josh. I want you. I've always wanted you, I always will want you." He starts singing, "You're all I ever wanted, you're all I ever needed, YEAH . . . ," and smiles, his eyes half-lidded.

JC takes the offered hand and stretches out on the bed next to Lance. "Now I KNOW you're drunk--you never sing to me."

Lance blushes. "I sing to you all the time," he protests. "It's just that Justin, Joey, and Chris happen to be singing at the same time."

"Exactly." JC smooths Lance's hair back from his hot face, heated by alcohol, anger, tears, and now blushing.

"I'll sing to you now." His voice grows quiet and he touches JC's lips lightly, "Till the day my life is through, this I promise you . . . "

JC is so touched he can hardly speak. "Lance," he almost sighs. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do," Lance slurs. "But I don't deserve you. You're so nicccccccce, Joshy. So nice. An' soooooooo sexy." His fingers play along JC's face, touching his cheek, his nose, his chin.

"Yeah, I'm so nice. That's why you got drunk, that's why you were crying."

Lance's hand falls to the bed and he rolls over onto his side, his back to JC. "I got drunk because I wanted to forget about that stupid interview. And because I wanted you."

JC puts an arm around Lance and pulls him back tightly against his chest. "I know, baby. But you don't have to get drunk to have me. I'm yours and you know it."

"Do I?" Lance turns in JC's grip. "Tell me, Josh. Tell me."

"From the first moment I saw you, Lance, I belonged to you."

Lance rolls on top of JC. "Then say it. Say what you couldn't say on that stupid show tonight. I want to hear it."

"Okay, Lance." JC takes Lance's face into both hands and looks straight into his eyes. "'Yes, Larry, it IS someone you know. He's sitting right beside you. I've been dating Lance for years. He's the love of my life and we're incredibly happy together."

Now the tears flow freely and Lance has no control over them. He collapses onto JC, crushing him into the mattress.

"Oh, Lance. Please don't cry. Please." JC wraps Lance tightly in his arms. "Forget I said that. You cry if you need to. I'm here. I love you."

It all comes flooding out of him: All the lies, all the secrets, broken down by those words--broken down by hearing the truth. He just needed to hear it. He needed the words to be spoken aloud, because they never were. Not in public. But just hearing them now is all it took. Lance sobs into JC's chest, shaking and gasping for air. Finally, after many minutes, the tears subside, and he lays there, in the comfort and safety of his best friend's arms.

JC kisses the top of Lance's head. He speaks quietly, calmly after the flood of emotion. "I wish I could say it out there, baby. You have no idea how much. And I will. Someday. I promise."

The tears finally subsiding, Lance sniffs and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, and someday we'll live in a world where this won't matter. And someday hell will freeze over."

"I can't change that. But I will keep my promise."

Lance sits up, wobbling on the bed, hand on JC's chest. He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm a mess. I'm gonna wash my face." He rises, stumbles, and makes his way precariously to the bathroom.

JC sits up, staring at the bathroom door. He'd known they both hated these stupid lies, but he hadn't realized it was hurting Lance so much. And it must have been bothering him for a long time--JC knows Lance well enough to know that one comment tonight wouldn't have been enough to cause this storm.

The cold water stings his face and clears up some of the blurriness in his mind. When Lance sees his reflection in the mirror, he cringes. Someone's been a bad boy. He giggles at that, then reaches for a towel to wipe his dripping face.

JC listens to the sound of running water, glad for a sign Lance hasn't passed out in there or anything. He takes off his shoes, throwing them in the closet, glances at the unblinking message light, and waits.

Lance shuffles slowly out of the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bed. He kicks his feet back and forth, saying, "I'm sorry I was such a jerk tonight, Josh."

JC walks over and stands in front of Lance, turning Lance's face up to his with both hands. "You weren't, Lance. You had every right to be upset."

Lance falls against JC's legs and wraps his arms around them. "I love you, Josh. I love you soooooooooooooooooo much."

"I love you too, Lance." JC smooths the wilder-than-usual hair.

Lance lifts his head and finds he's face to face with JC's crotch. He nuzzles JC's pants and opens his mouth, nibbling with just his lips. "Mmmmmmm, yummmy."

JC shouldn't be surprised by anything that Lance says or does tonight, but he didn't quite expect this. And it feels SO good. He has one more moment of hesitancy, thinking he should just convince Lance to sleep or something. But how can he possibly say no to what he really wants?

Lance reaches up and tugs at the waistband of JC's pants, confused as to why they aren't moving. He tugs harder, but still nothing happens.

JC has another pang of guilt. He wants Lance, but Lance is so out of it. He sighs. "Baby, maybe you should get some sleep."

"I don't wanna sleep, Josh. I wanna screw. I'm so horny right now. Look!" He flops back on the bed, his erection evident through his baggy pants.

"Yeah, I see." JC lies down next to Lance, propping himself on one elbow and looking down at his lover. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Lance smiles wickedly. "D'ya wanna play-by-play?"

JC's smile is just as wicked. "Yeah."

Lance throws his arms above his head, barely missing whacking JC. "'Kay. First, I want you take allllll my clothes off." He gestures wildly with his hands. "No, your clothes off. I mean OUR clothes off. Then, I want you to kiss me allllllllll over. Then, I want you to screw me."

"No."

Lance stops moving. "Did you just say 'no'?" He reaches over to JC, tugging at his shirt. "But Josh, I want you. I want you so bad."

"I want you, too. But I'm not going to screw you. I'm going to make love to you. There's a difference."

Lance stares up at the ceiling, mullling over JC's words. "Oh. Yeah. I like that. Okay, first you're gonna take alllllllllllll my clothes off, then you're gonna kiss me allllllllllll over, then you're gonna make love to me. Better?"

"Much better." JC leans in to kiss Lance's lips, taking one lip and then the other between his, licking the soft skin, before closing his mouth over both.

"Mmmmmmmmm." The numbness Lance felt when they'd first arrived back at the hotel is starting to dissipate, especially with the way JC kisses him. He responds immediately, kissing JC back with all the intensity building up inside him.

JC slips a hand under Lance and lifts him enough to take his shirt off. One of his shirts. He had to fall in love with Mr. Layers. He lifts Lance more upright. "C'mon Lance, sit up. Let me get this shirt off you."

Lance falls against JC in a fit of giggles. "Where'd all these clothes come from?" he asks, picking at his shirt.

"YOUR closet," JC says with mock sternness as he, with effort, manages to get the shirt off.

"My mom's always telling me to clean my closet." Lance tugs at JC's shirt, trying to lift it over his shoulders. An impossible feat, since JC's hands are otherwise occupied.

JC pushes Lance's hands away, gently but firmly. "Just let me take care of everything, okay?" He lowers Lance to the bed again, stripping off his own shirt before bending over his lover again.

"'Kay. Next one's on me." Lance eyes JC as he removes his shirt, the tingling in his groin a reminder of how aroused just that amount of bare skin can make him.

"I'll hold you to that," JC whispers, his lips just above Lance's, then dipping that necessary millimeter to touch Lance's. He drops his body as well, pressing their bare chests together.

Lance opens his mouth and covers JC's greedily. His tongue snakes out, probing the moist mouth above him. The numbness is definitely wearing off as Lance's senses begin to return. He can almost hear the twin heartbeats through their chests.

JC breaks their kiss and begins dropping small kisses on Lance's cheeks, forehead, chin. He kisses his way over to one perfect ear, and whispers "I believe my instructions were to kiss you all over?"

Lance's voice is low in response to the hot breath in his ear, "Every . . . inch."

"I can do that. Unless I get distracted . . . by certain . . . inches."

"You mean THIS," Lance growls, rubbing his bulge against JC's thigh.

"Yeah," JC assents, kissing his way down the pale column of Lance's throat. "That."

Lance sobers up by the minute. Every touch, every kiss, brings him back to his senses. He's still intoxicated, but it's more by JC's ministrations than by the alcohol in his system. JC dips his tongue into the hollow of Lance's throat, then runs it over the contours of his collarbone. As he starts kissing his way down Lance's chest, he reaches for the belt buckle. As he pauses to devour one tight nipple, he begins to work the stiff buckle.

Lance wriggles under JC's hand. "You didn't say the password."

"There's a password? Poofu? Scoopy? Blow job?"

"NOW you may enter," Lance exclaims excitedly, flicking open his belt with the precision of a much more sober man.

JC grins down at the bundle of contradictions in his arms, the bundle of contradictions that he loves. As he slowly pulls the belt from its loops, he returns his attention to Lance's chest, specifically the nipple he'd neglected before.

Lance runs his fingers down JC's arms and sighs happily at the wet mouth on his chest.

JC continues kissing Lance's chest, thoroughly pleasuring both nipples and pausing over his heart to feel the quickened beating. His hands brush over the front of Lance's pants, feeling the already substantial bulge before seeking the button.

Raising his head, Lance watches as JC expertly flicks open his fly. He's breathing rapidly now, and the hairs on his arms are standing as every nerve in his body is electrified by JC's touch.

JC steadily kisses his way over every inch of Lance's chest, finding the odd little spots that arouse him, like the bottom of his sternum or the edge of his rib cage. When he reaches Lance's navel, he circles it, then dips his tongue into it, almost but not quite tickling. It not until he starts following the line of hairs leading downward that he raises himself up and starts easing Lance's pants down.

Lance follows with his eyes JC's travels down his body. He touches the soft, dark hair and makes quiet moaning noises with each kiss. And when he feels his pants being removed, his arousal becomes evident as his erection springs up out of his shorts.

JC quickly strips Lance of both pants and shorts and kisses his way up from Lance's toes, up the strong calves to the powerful thighs. With strong hands, he spreads Lance's legs, nuzzling his face against the hair, the shaft, the sac. Lance's scent is intoxicating, and he breathes deeply for a moment or two before taking first one ball then the other into his mouth, rolling it gently. He replaces his mouth with his hand, and brings his mouth up to lick the long shaft from base to tip and back, moving his tongue from side to side as he travels the length.

If Lance was aroused before there is no word in the English language that describes what he's feeling now. He didn't think JC took him seriously when Lance said he wanted JC to kiss every inch of his body. But when he felt those lips traveling up his legs, he writhed in the delicious torture. Now, he's a prisoner of JC's tongue, and he loves every lick, every touch, every hot drop of saliva.

Lance is so responsive. That's what makes it such a pleasure to make love to him. Well, not only that, obviously, but JC loves how he writhes and squirms, loves the sounds that come out of his mouth, his throat, sounds that start so deep inside Lance that JC can feel them before he hears them. Lance makes JC want to please him by showing his pleasure so openly. Like now, when JC takes the tip of Lance's penis into his mouth, circling it with his tongue again and again.

Lance bunches the bedding in his fists; if JC keeps this up, Lance is going to tear the covers to shreds. "Jooooooooooooosh!" he cries out.

That's all the encouragement JC needs. He plunges down on Lance, taking him in as deeply as he can, his tongue flickering around the turgid shaft, then pulling back and doing it again. And again. Finding a rhythm that seems to please Lance, JC reaches over and fumbles in the drawer for the lube he'd thrown in there earlier. He squeezes some out and uses his slick fingers to find Lance's opening, sliding them in and finding a rhythm that counterpoints what his mouth is doing.

His back arches and he brings a fist to his mouth, stifling the sounds that threaten to emerge from his throat. Lance draws his knees up and lifts his head to see JC moving up and down on his stiff shaft. He reaches down and tangles his fingers in that beautiful, dark hair, and he raises his hips to meet JC's thrusts.

JC slows then stops his movements. With one final kiss, he releases Lance's hardness. He just has to be inside Lance when Lance comes. He crawls up Lance's body, then sinks down onto him, pressing their hips, their chests, their skin together. Pressing their lips, their mouths, their tongues together.

Lance welcomes JC, needing to touch him and have his weight against him. He reaches between their bodies and squeezes his hand down to JC's crotch, massaging the heat through his pants. With his other hand, he rubs the back of JC's neck, reassuringly.

JC rolls off Lance and quickly disposes of his remaining clothing. Climbing over Lance again, he whispers "Anyplace I missed that you still want kissed?"

Lance turns his eyes to the ceiling as though he's really thinking about it. He shakes his head back and forth wildly. "Nope." Then he freezes. "Wait. Yeah. Here," he commands, pointing to his lips.

"I didn't miss there." JC takes Lance's upper lip between his own. "I definitely got here." He pulls Lance's lower lip into his mouth nibbling it lightly. While he's doing this, he reaches for the lube again and slathers some on his own erection. As he slides his tongue into Lance's mouth, he also presses his erection into Lance' hot tightness.

"I can't remember if you . . . ohhhhhhh . . . but it feels so good." Lance sucks greedily on JC's thick tongue. The part of his mind that's sober cannot believe how turned on he is. To think this night started on a bad note, but it sure turned out fine.

JC starts moving in Lance, pushing deep into his lover, then withdrawing almost completely, starting slowly, then moving more quickly and intensely.

Lance places his hands on JC's shoulders, gripping them tightly; his brow is creased as he gazes up at his lover in total ecstasy. His body trembles with every thrust, and he feels himself close to orgasm.

JC looks down into Lance's eyes. The expression in them stuns him. So impassioned, so open, so adoring. He briefly wonders if Lance can see the same things in his before his orgasm hits him and he cannot think for long moments as his body stiffens and spasms and shimmers.

Lance's eyes widen as he watches JC's face. He can see the pure elation, the glow that comes from JC when he comes. Lance's own climax hits him as JC trembles against him, and a low moan rumbles in his throat as his hot fluids hit JC's flat stomach.

JC collapses against Lance, still quivering, whispering Lance's name.

Everything starts to spin as Lance's orgasm subsides. The last thing he hears is his name before his eyes close and darkness descends.

JC feels Lance slip away. "Baby?" he asks, concerned. He lifts himself off Lance quickly, brushing the hair back from his forehead and peering into his face worriedly.

"Mmmmmfffffff."

JC sighs. Not passed out, just asleep. He gets up and goes into the bathroom, bringing back a towel and cleaning Lance up, then he manages to roll Lance under the covers. He puts a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on Lance's bedside table, then crawls in next to him, wrapping himself around his lover.

Someone stop the train. That's the first thought in Lance's mind as he emerges into consciousness. The pounding in his head continues as he struggles to focus. He's lying on his side, and JC is pressed tightly against his back. Lance brings a hand to his head and groans. He's just glad they don't have anything scheduled for today and that their flight to Orlando isn't until . . . 4? He lifts his head to check the clock, but that just brings on another stab of pain. What he does see is a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. His mouth turns into a half-smile then; JC thinks of everything. He reaches for the bottle but ends up knocking it onto the floor, and as he stretches to retrieve it JC's arm prevents him from going any further. But that movement alone stirs the man behind him.

"Baby? You okay?" JC gets up, retrieves the bottle and opens it, shaking out the pills and handing them to Lance.

"Yeah," Lance groans. "Just stupid. Thanks." He takes the pills, successfully lifts the glass of water from the night stand, and swallows.

"We've got time. You can sleep some more."

Lance throws his arm over his eyes. "Yeah. I think I'll just . . . " and before he knows it, he's sound asleep. JC pulls the covers up around Lance's shoulders again, dropping a kiss to his cheek. Then he quietly heads to the bathroom for a shower. When he's done he orders breakfast, which he eats before settling on the couch with his notebook.

This time, when Lance wakes up, there's no noise in his head and he actually feels better. He yawns and stretches, then sits up; the aroma of bacon and eggs causes his stomach to growl, and he's surprised that's he's actually hungry after the way he felt earlier. He sits up slowly and runs a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair. Seeing JC sitting up scribbling away, he calls out, "Hey."

"Hey," JC smiles across the room. "Welcome back to the land of the living. How're you feeling?"

Lance does a quick assessment. "I'm feeling pretty okay, actually. Thanks for the aspirin. It really helped. He smiles and looks down at the covers. "I guess I shouldn't have drank so much. I guess I also shouldn't have said those things last night." The smile vanishes. "I'm sorry, Josh."

JC walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. "Don't apologize, Lance. You said things that needed to be said. You just maybe didn't need quite so much alcohol to say them." JC takes Lance's hand. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Aw, Josh, you didn't. I was an idiot. I know you had to say what you said on Larry King. I knew what I was getting into when we started this thing. What's important is that WE love each other. What the world does or doesn't know-- that doesn't matter."

"Yeah, as long as we're okay, I can live with anything else. You want some breakfast? I saved you some, but it's probably pretty gross by now. I can order you something."

"No. Yeah. I guess. Thanks." He falls back onto the pillows, relieved that they're back to normal, whatever that is, that somehow they survived this latest threat to their relationship. But Lance can't help wondering: Will they survive the next one?

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