Spooning
by Karen and LB
© 2002
JC stands and stares at the double bed. The only one in the room. The room he's sharing with Lance.
It's all the hotel's fault. For losing their reservation and only having a tiny room with a single, a small room with two single beds, and this room available to them.
And it's Lynn's fault, for assigning the single to Joey, who's been sniffling and might be contagious, the room with two singles to Justin and Chris, who are eagerly trying to figure out if they can make bunk beds, and this room to him and the bandmate he has a crush on. The STRAIGHT bandmate he has a crush on.
Lance sits up on the bed, book in his lap, concentrating on the pages in front of him. He has a test he has to mail back by Tuesday and he wants to get a good grade. But then he feels the eyes on him. "I'll be done soon."
"Oh, um, sorry. Take your time." Take all the time you need. Take all night.
"I'm almost done. Just a few more pages." Lance runs the yellow highlighter over the paragraph. "This stuff is pretty interesting."
"Yeah? What are you working on?"
"History. The Civil War."
"Oh, yeah. Bloody." JC shudders.
"Yeah, but there was a lot of other stuff. It affected the whole economic climate of the country."
JC watches Lance's eyes--how vivid they become when he's interested in something--and almost forgets to respond. "That's what war's usually about, isn't it?"
"That and religion." He looks up at JC, then at the bed. "If you want to go to sleep, I can just . . . "
"No, you finish. I shouldn't be bothering you anyway when you're trying to study. You want a soda?"
"No, thanks. I'm almost done."
"Okay. I'll be back in a few." JC grabs his room key and some change and heads out.
The room is silent. Lance isn't even aware how quiet the room is until he's finished reading and closes the book. In all the time they've been touring, Lance has never had a room to himself, by choice mostly. He looks at the bed, gauging its size. JC's a skinny guy, and Lance is pretty small, so they should fit okay. Still, it's a little strange to share a bed with your bandmate, even if you've seen him practically naked.
The door lock disengages smoothly and JC comes back in with a Coke. It hits him again how really cute Lance is, like right now when his hair is all tousled because he runs his hands through it when he's trying to concentrate.
Lance gets up and puts the book in his knapsack, and stretches. He can feel the eyes on him, the eyes of the older boy. The talented, older boy. The talented, cute, older boy. "Which side do you want?"
"I don't care. Left?"
"Here, you can even have this," replies Lance, tossing a stuffed animal from last night's show at his friend on his way to the small bathroom to brush his teeth. JC places the toy on his pillow and waits for his turn in the bathroom, fidgeting.
Lance emerges and moves over to the right side of the bed. As he lowers his sweats, he realizes how awkward this feels--undressing in front of JC. It's not like JC has never seen him in his underwear before, but they've never shared a bed while he was wearing just his underwear. Lance quickly slips under the covers and pulls them up to his waist.
JC spends an inordinately long time in the bathroom, delaying the inevitable. When he finally opens the door, Lance is already in bed. JC hastily strips off his sweat pants and climbs in. "Okay to turn off the light now?" he asks, his hand hovering over the switch.
"Yeah." When JC does so, Lance looks around the room. "Hang on," he says, climbing out of the bed. He pulls the curtain as tightly as he can over the window, blocking out the few rays of streetlight trying to invade the room. "Better," he decides, feeling his way back to the bed. He hits the edge and stumbles, groping with his hands until he encounters a soft lump in the bed. "Oh, sorry," he mumbles, when he realizes it's JC.
"Uh, no problem," JC says, uncertainly. "You know, I could have turned the light back on for you."
More embarrassed than when he touched JC, Lance looks for an easy save. "It's more fun this way." Then, realizing how saucy that sounded, Lance continues. "I mean, trying to find my way back without killing myself."
"You're weird, Lance. I mean that in the nicest way, but . . . weird."
Lance is sincerely grateful for the cover of darkness so that JC can't see how red his face must be. Way to go, Bass. Nice way to impress your roommate. But then Lance wonders why he should want to impress JC in the first place. He manages to climb into the bed without further contact, turns on his side, and leaves one leg and one arm exposed.
JC feels Lance's weight filling the other side of the bed, and it's a good feeling. "Good night, Lance," he says, brightly, to cover his confusion.
"Good night, JC." This is weird, he thinks.
JC takes an uncharacteristically long time to fall asleep. He's very conscious of Lance curled up on the other side of the bed. Of all the guys in the world, JC thinks. I had to fall for my bandmate? My friend? A guy who's never even LOOKED at another guy?
Lance is asleep almost instantly, lulled by JC's steady breathing and the warmth of his body. When he awakens, he's still on his side, but there's something slung over his torso, and something familiar pressing against him. His eyes fly open but he doesn't move.
JC drifts awake, aware that he feels warm and secure. His face is pressed against a good-smelling body and his erection is pressed against . . . LANCE?? He freezes, mortified.
Lance's huge eyes scan down the length of his body until he sees that, wrapped in JC's arms, with JC's hot breath fanning his neck, he too has a little morning visitor.
JC acts suddenly, releasing Lance and backing away. "I'm sorry, dude," he says, quickly, then starts babbling. "I didn't mean . . . and I um, well, everyone, um, gets them in the morning and stuff, um, right?"
Lance pulls the covers up to his chest and curls his legs up. "Um, sure. It's no big deal, right?" Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
"Right. Happens when you're not here. I mean, when I'm alone, I mean. Um . . . "
"You don't have to say anything. It's like you said--it happens to all of us."
"Yeah," JC says, at a loss, and then, in a sudden burst of inspiration: "Shower. Do you, um, wanna go first?"
"Yes!" Lance replies, a little too eagerly. He practically tumbles out of bed, facing away from JC, and scurries to the bathroom before JC can see his "condition." Once inside the bathroom, he throws his back against the door and lets out the breath he'd been holding. Cold shower. That's what he needs. Really cold shower.
JC watches Lance run away in mixed amusement and embarrassment. He briefly considers running away himself, but knows that acting weird or avoiding Lance is only going to make matters worse.
Normally quick and efficient in the shower, Lance takes his time. He's in no rush to face JC. Not after what just happened. Not after what just happened felt so good. That's the real problem. Lance LIKED it.
JC decides he needs to look busy when Lance comes out, so he digs out a notebook and tries to look like he's working.
Lance dries off and carefully wraps a towel around his waist, making sure it covers everything. He dreads walking out there but knows he can't stay in here forever. Leaning his head against the door, he turns the knob slowly, mustering the courage and searching for words. In the end, he decides to say nothing. He walks quickly to his bag and bends to retrieve some clean clothes, but the towel slips and he awkwardly grabs it with one hand while the other holds the bag. JC tries to keep his eyes on the page, but he's aware of Lance's struggle.
"Dude, I'm not gonna, like jump you if your towel slips."
"I know," Lance mumbles, but he's thinking, Why not? Oh, that's right--I'm not your type. I'm a GUY.
"I want us to be okay about this. Not all freaked out."
"I'm not freaked out," Lance says, a little too emphatically.
"Yeah, you are," JC says as he walks quickly to the bathroom.
Lance sits back, on the floor, still clad in his towel. "Am not!" he calls out, realizing too late how immature that sounds.
JC turns the shower on cold and steps in. He stands under the spray for a long time, hoping that he can make this horrible feeling go away. It doesn't. He's sure he's screwed up his friendship with Lance for good.
Lance finishes dressing long before JC is out of the shower and stands combing his hair in the mirror above the dresser. He waits nervously for the door to open.
JC finally turns off the shower, towels himself off, and wraps the towel securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.
Lance almost spills his cologne when he hears the door open. "I, um, I'll . . . I'll just get out of your way."
"I'll be ready in a few minutes. We could go to breakfast together."
"Um, sure, okay. If you want."
"Well, if everything was normal, that's what we'd do, right?"
"Everything is normal, so yeah, that's what we should do. Have breakfast."
"Yeah." JC has been pulling on clothing during the conversation and he bends to take a look in the mirror. "C'mon. Lynn's probably waiting for us."
Lance holds out his hand. "Hey, JC, we're cool, right?"
JC smiles for the first time since he REALLY woke up this morning. "Yeah. We're cool. Race you to Lynn's room."
Lance pushes by JC and is at the door. "You're on."
The boys dash down the hall and arrive, breathless and laughing, at Lynn's door. The tension between them, at least for now, is dissipated.
But the feeling isn't. Lance can't stop thinking about how it felt to be so close to JC, to feel JC's body pressed against him. And the guys won't let him forget either. As soon as they're seated in the hotel restaurant, Chris starts in. "So, how was the honeymoon suite?"
JC rolls his eyes. "How was kindergarten?"
"No, no, no. You're not getting off that easy," chides Joey. "C'mon, spill. Does Lance kick?"
"I didn't even know he was there," JC lies.
"I don't kick."
"I bet you drool," Chris teases.
"You're way too interested. You know that, don't you?"
"Wouldn't you be if me and Joey slept together?"
"We've all slept in the same room at one time or another."
"Not in the same BED."
"What's the big deal?" Lance finally asks, the irritation evident in his voice.
"Really," JC says in his sternest voice. "You're all acting like you're about 8."
"Ooh, so defensive. That good, huh?"
Lance drops his fork on his plate. "It was great, all right? It was the best night of my life. Never had a better night than I had with JC. There, you happy?"
"Now we're talking," Chris declares, satisfied.
JC wishes Lance's words were serious, but says jokingly, "Now that THAT's settled, how much do we owe for all the damage you and Justin caused, Chris?"
"We didn't break anything. Did YOU break anything, JC? Like maybe the bed?"
"Yeah, Chris. It crashed through to the floor downstairs."
"Ha! I knew you were a wildman, Chasez!"
Lance rolls his eyes while the rest of the boys snicker. He's relieved when their food arrives so Chris's mouth will be busy. The boys attack their food with relish.
JC catches Lance's eye across the table and smiles conspiratorially. Lance finds himself wishing everything they were joking about was true. He wonders if what happened this morning hadn't happened--if he'd be thinking this way. But he can't help thinking about it, especially when JC smiles at him like that.
JC drinks his coffee, musing about how good it feels to share something with Lance, even if it is just a joking defense for the benefit of the other guys.
Throughout the rest of the day, their little inside joke becomes the group gag. When the van arrives to take them to a local TV station, the guys make JC and Lance share the back seat. When they're at a photo shoot, Joey and Chris push them into one room to change. Lance goes along with it, not just to be a good sport but because he genuinely likes being close to JC.
"Hey," JC says, during one of the moments where they've been left alone. "What can we DO to them? We gotta get them, back."
"They're probably listening at the door right now. Oh, JC," Lance calls out, in exaggerated fashion. "Oh, baby, that feels SOOOOO good."
"Oh, yeah, right THERE!" JC replies, then somewhat dampens the effect with a giggle. "Harder!"
Lance kicks the wall gently. "Oh baby, you feel SO good! I never felt this good before! OH! OH! OH!" He holds his hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to erupt, and with his other hand counts 1, 2, 3 . . . and flings open the door, causing Chris, Joey, and Justin to tumble in.
JC holds his hand out to Lance. "C'mon, babe. We got better things to do than hang with the three stooges." They step over the fallen forms of their bandmates.
"Was it good for you?" asks Lance.
"Except for the interruptions. You?"
"I need a cigarette."
"You don't smoke."
"See? It was that good."
"I never knew I was that hot."
Lance starts fanning himself with his hand. "Whew! Were you ever!" He giggles, blushing over the game, marvelling at how much fun it is to share the joke with JC.
Out of the corner of his eyes, JC sees the guys coming, so he flings an arm around Lance's shoulder. "Flattery. I LIKE it."
And so the day goes until, exhausted, they return to the hotel later than night, after performing and having dinner. Much to everyone's surprise, the hotel still hadn't fixed their room situation.
"Oh crap," exclaims Lynn. "Looks like someone's gonna have to double up again. Lance hon, why don't you bunk with Justin tonight and Chris and JC can share the room."
Lance looks from Justin to JC.
"Why change?" JC asks, "They'd just have to move their stuff."
"Yeah, I don't mind," agrees Lance. "I'm too tired to move, anyway."
"Well, if you're sure . . . " Lynn puts a motherly hand on Lance's cheek. "You do look tired. You boys have all been up too late as it is."
Relieved, Lance tries his best not to smile too much.
******
"You still want the left side?" Lance asks, nodding at the bed.
"Yeah. If that's okay," JC says, suddenly nervous.
"Sure. There's a big dent in that side now," jokes Lance.
"Is not. I hardly spent any time there," JC shoots back, then blushes scarlet.
Neither boy makes a move to climb in. Finally, Lance grabs his book from his knapsack and crawls under the blanket, the book resting on his knees.
JC escapes to the bathroom, where he splashes cold water on his face. He should have gone along with Lynn's suggestion, he thinks. Should have let Lance switch rooms. His head tells him that. His heart and body are screaming another story. Finally, JC opens the door and emerges. He leaves his sweat pants on this time, and slips into bed.
Lance has read the same page three times and doesn't remember a word of it. All he can think about is JC, lying next to him, his body already warming the small space between them. Lance closes the book and drops it quietly on the floor, then shuts out the light. In the darkness, he hears only the sound of JC breathing.
JC shifts, trying to get comfortable, knowing that it's going to take more than the right sleeping position to help him. Now that it's happened once, he wants nothing more than to wrap himself around Lance, to feel the comfort of body against body.
Lance observes JC's restlessness, believing JC wants to get as far away as possible. "I can sleep on the floor, if you want."
"No! I mean, no. I definitely don't want you to do that."
"Okay. But if it gets too weird for you, say the word."
"Lance," JC says, softly. "It's already WAY beyond weird. But that's not your fault."
"It's not your fault either. I have dreams like that too."
"You do?"
"Sure. Don't you?"
"Sometimes," JC says, almost inaudibly. "Do you ever get tired of, um, just dreaming?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. But sometimes I think I wanna . . . think I wanna . . . "
"Want to what, JC?" Lance rolls over to face his friend. Even in the dark, he can make out JC's eyes.
"Touch . . . you," JC whispers, bracing himself for the explosion.
The logical part of Lance's brain knows he should get out of this bed right now, but he's not thinking logically. In fact, he tells that part of his brain to take a hike. "Okay," he answers quietly, letting the darkness of the room absorb the sound.
JC couldn't have been more surprised if Lance had sprouted wings and flown laps around the room. "Yeah?" he says tentatively, and even more tentatively runs a hand down Lance's arm.
"Yeah. I mean, if you want to." Lance hears the words as though someone else is saying them. They come so easily, so . . . naturally.
JC brushes his hand over Lance's chest, instinctively finding a nipple and massaging it through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
Lance's first instinct is to flinch away from the touch, but he remains as still as possible. He's grateful for the cover of darkness, because if JC could see his face right now he'd probably pull his hand away. A shiver runs through Lance--it feels so good, and he can feel his body respond.
JC had never even considered that a guy might like having his nipples touched like this, but when he feels Lance's pucker and tighten under his fingers, he feels an answering shiver in his own body.
Confused and aroused, Lance's breath quickens. "Stop. Wait. No, don't stop."
"You sure, Lance? I'll do whatever you want."
"Do what you were doing. It, um, it feels good."
JC takes a deep breath and slips his hand under Lance's shirt. He explores the warmth of Lance's skin, working his way back up the sensitive nipple.
Lance gasps in surprise at how intense it feels to be touched there. His own hand gropes for JC's arm, and he runs his fingers over JC's toned muscles.
JC smiles at Lance's reaction. At the same time, he can't believe this is happening. Slowly, he lets his hand drift downward, stopping just short of the waistband of Lance's shorts.
Lance bites his lip, fighting the urge to stop JC's exploration. Fighting it because although he knows they shouldn't be doing this, Lance doesn't want JC to stop. He's already hard, but he's terrified of what JC will think when he finds out.
Since Lance doesn't raise any objections, JC slips his hand into Lance's shorts, immediately surrounding the hardness within.
With a quiet moan, Lance grips JC's shoulder and rolls onto his back. He always feels a little guilty when he does this by himself, but having another guy do it to him? Lance never imagined he'd be in this position.
JC strokes Lance's erection with a strong hand, using his thumb to give extra attention to the sensitive tip. He thinks about what feels good when he does it to himself, and does exactly that.
Sweat appears on Lance's forehead and begins to soak his shirt as he writhes against JC's hand. That practiced, more experienced hand. Every touch is so pleasurable, it's hard for Lance to keep quiet.
JC is aroused more than ever by the small sounds escaping Lance's throat. He shifts so he can press his own aching erection against Lance's hip. His hand continues its rhythmic motion over and over Lance's long, hot stiffness.
JC's stiffness only adds to the stimulation. Bewildered that JC is so aroused by this activity, Lance keeps his eyes closed, embarrassed that he's so excited by what they're doing.
Rubbing against Lance's body feels so good, and JC's breath quickens, as does the motion of his hand.
Lance's heart is racing as he realizes what JC is doing. His orgasm hits him then in full force, his body convulsing on the mattress, one hand grabbing a fistful of bed sheet, the other pressed against JC's chest.
JC collapses next to Lance, still hard, still pressed against Lance's thigh. "You want that cigarette now?" he asks, the smile audible in his voice.
"Um, a whole pack," Lance replies, panting. "Ugh," he remarks at JC's hand, still inside his underwear. "That's pretty gross. I'm sorry."
"That's what's supposed to happen," JC says, still smiling. He rolls out of bed, retrieves a towel, and wipes off his hand before tossing the towel to Lance.
"I know, but it's one thing when you do it yourself. I mean, not that I do it a LOT. I can't believe we're talking about this."
"I know." JC lies back down. "What was it, um, like? Having someone else do it?"
"Really strange. But good. Like . . . do you want to find out?"
"I . . . you don't have to," JC says, but his voice is full of need.
Lance sits up. Again, the voice tells him how wrong this is, but his hand doesn't listen. It reaches inside JC's shorts and tentatively brushes against the stiff organ within.
JC feels that light, fleeting touch all the way down to his toes. He stares up at Lance though the darkness and waits, not too patiently, for another touch.
Lance has never touched another man's erection. That's the first thought that shoots through his mind. Yet he's doing it now. He's doing it to his bandmate, his friend. Someone he will have to see tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. But he doesn't stop. Instead, he wraps his hand around the long shaft and begins to stroke it.
"That feels so good," JC whispers. Encouraged by JC's words, Lance reclines on his elbow and strokes more insistently.
JC closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, relishing the sensation of having this most intimate act performed by someone he's dreamed about.
Once again, Lance finds his heart beating frantically as he pleasures his friend. He has this strange urge to kiss JC's sensual lips, but stops himself. No, he tells himself. We're just messing around. This doesn't mean anything.
JC's breathing speeds up to painful little pants, and his hips rock with the motion of Lance's cool, strong hand. He feels himself getting close, then his entire body throbs with the force of his orgasm.
Lance waits until JC's tremors subside, then removes his hand, slick with JC's ejaculation. After wiping his hand on the towel, he places it on JC's stomach. He can't shake the guilt, but he also can't deny that this was one of the best nights of his life.
JC uses the towel and tosses it to the floor. Drowsy with the late hour and the intense pleasure, he curls up next to Lance, pulling the younger boy into his arms deliberately this time, rather than accidentally.
With a sigh, Lance allows JC to envelop him. Experiment? Maybe. Maybe not.
Then next few weeks are a little weird and a little wonderful. JC feels like two people--the one who does all the usual shows and interviews and rehearsals and hanging out, and the one who sneaks off whenever he can so he and Lance can grope and fondle each other.
It's a roller coaster ride, as far as Lance is concerned. He loves the gigs they've been getting, he loves the recording sessions and photo shoots, and he loves spending time with JC. Just the two of them. Lance keeps telling himself they're just having fun, but the truth is, Lance is falling for JC, and not just as a friend. And that's the problem. Every time he speaks to his parents, Lance feels this incredible wave of guilt wash over him.
He can't be gay. He just can't.
JC keeps telling himself that it's got to stop, but every time he thinks about saying so, all he can think about is how it feels to touch and be touched. How Lance looks when he comes, how he sounds. And he decides to give it a little longer.
It's not just the touching that Lance thinks about; the more he sees JC the more he wants to . . . he can't even voice it, even to himself. It's wrong, he tells himself. Wrong.
It's like Lynn suspects something's happened, because she hasn't put Lance and JC in the same room much since those two nights they spent in that double bed. Tonight's different.
Tonight they're sharing a room again, only this one has two beds. Maybe it's for the best, Lance tells himself. Maybe whatever they've been doing is just a phase and now they'll go back to normal. Whatever that is.
JC comes out of the bathroom clad only in a towel, drying his hair with another towel. "All yours," he says.
Lance averts his eyes, afraid to look at that smooth, lean, clean- scented body. "Thanks," he mumbles. "You left me some hot water, right?"
"Of course I did," JC says, dropping a hand on Lance's shoulder.
Lance straightens at the touch; it's so electric. But he stays where he is. "Good. That's good."
"Yeah, so, um . . . " JC steps away to sit on his bed and resumes toweling his hair.
After a few seconds, Lance retreats to the bathroom. While under the hot spray, he decides that whatever is going on between him and his bandmate has to stop. Then he looks down and sees his erection.
JC drapes the towel on a chair and pulls out a T-shirt and boxers, dressing himself quickly. He slips between clean, crisp sheets and stares at the ceiling, waiting for Lance.
Lance opens the door quietly, towel wrapped around his waist, and searches through his bag for clean clothes. When he pulls out one of JC's shirts, he pauses, then puts it aside.
JC's eyes are half closed, as if he were drifting into sleep, but he's really watching Lance, enjoying the smooth compactness of his movements. Waiting to see what he'll do.
Lance can feel the eyes on him. As he slips on a pair of shorts, the towel drops before he can get the pants all the way up. His back is to JC and he knows his butt is exposed.
JC can't pretend anymore. He rolls onto his side, and, propped on one elbow, watches Lance.
Slowly, Lance turns his head. Holding his shirt in his hands, he looks away, blushing, then quickly throws the shirt on.
It's like Lance is dressing slowly just to torture JC. Like he knows how badly JC wants to just as slowly peel off every item of clothing Lance has just so carefully put on.
Lance senses JC's eyes on him the entire time he climbs into bed. "You're staring," he states flatly.
"S-sorry," JC says, blushing to a deep red. "I . . . sorry."
"JC, what are we doing?"
"I don't know. But . . . " JC swallows hard. "I think maybe we shouldn't do it any more."
"I think maybe you're right."
JC hadn't expected quite so quick an agreement. He's a little hurt, a little disappointed. "Oh. Oh, okay."
"Well, you said it."
"Yeah, I guess I just maybe thought we'd talk about it a little. But that's okay."
"What do you want to talk about?"
JC looks over at Lance, so calm, so unperturbed. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
"Why do you think we shouldn't, um . . . ?"
"Because it's wrong. It's wrong, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. But probably not the way you mean."
"You mean that it's wrong to be . . . what I think we are?"
"I mean that I have feelings for you. And it's wrong to do something that should be about love just to fool around and get off."
"You're right, it is. I always imagined that when I . . . did stuff like that it would be with someone I loved. And that's why this is so confusing."
"So, there's, um," JC has to take a deep breath to go on, to say the words. "There's no chance that you might . . . feel the same?"
"That's the problem. I do."
"You . . . you do?"
"Yes. I think I like you, and not just as a friend."
"Then . . . why's it a problem?"
"Because it's wrong. We're guys."
"How can what we feel be wrong?"
"We're GUYS, JC. Guys aren't supposed to feel this way."
"But we do. We do."
"But that makes us . . . " He doesn't even want to say the word.
"But if it's what we are, we can't just . . . not be."
"Maybe it's just a phase. Maybe we've been spending too much time together." Maybe if he denies it enough, it won't be true.
"What if it's not?"
"Then we're gay."
"Shouldn't we, couldn't we find out?"
"But if we are . . . what about the group?"
"What about it? This is you and me we're talking about."
"Is there a you and me? This is crazy!"
"Well, if that's how you really feel, then I guess not."
"You don't think it's weird to have a crush on your bandmate?"
"When you say it that way, sure. But when I look at you, no."
"This goes against everything I've ever been taught."
"Don't think about what you learned. Think about what you feel."
"That's what scares me."
"It scares me too. But it scares me worse that if we walk away now, we might never find out how good it might be."
Lance stares up at the ceiling, silent. "How good might it be?"
"Really, really good."
Lance can't help himself. He turns his head to face JC, seeing the hope in the older boy's eyes. "Are we gonna burn in hell?"
"Why would G-d make us this way if it was so wrong?"
"Maybe he didn't make us this way. Maybe it's a test."
"Like I said before. What if it's not?"
"How will we know?"
"By how we feel?" JC gives Lance a long, soulful look. "You know, we've never even kissed."
"No, we haven't. That's what's so strange. We've done, like, so many other things, but not the most important thing."
"Come here," JC says, his voice husky.
Lance sits up, bites his lip, and rises, as though someone is pulling him up. His feet close the gap between the beds and before he knows what he's doing he's sitting on the edge of JC's bed.
JC sits up and moves closer. With one not-quite-steady hand, he brushes Lance's hair away from his forehead.
Lance watches JC's face intently, hands on his legs, all senses keyed. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, and JC's touch is so gentle that it sends a shiver up Lance's spine.
His hand sliding down to cup Lance's cheek, JC tilts Lance's face up. He gazes into Lance's eyes, nearly luminous in the dim light of the room, before finally leaning in and brushing Lance's lips lightly with his own.
Lance closes the gap, reaching out with his lips to touch JC's luscious, slightly peppermint- flavored mouth. He nearly forgets he's kissing a guy; the kiss is tender and sweet and exciting all at once. JC pulls back enough to look into Lance's face again. He smiles sweetly, and says, "That felt very, very right."
Blushing and averting his eyes, Lance agrees. "It did. This sucks. Why'd I have to fall for my bandmate?"
"Is it really that bad a thing?"
"It's bad when we have to work together and look, we're even sharing a room."
"I would count those as good things."
"JC, we're guys."
"I know. We've been over this part." JC reaches down and takes one of Lance's hands. "Look, Lance, I like you. A lot. Maybe even more than liking you. And I think you like me too. We can walk away, or we can take this gift we've been given and try to make something out of it." Gift. Lance never thought of it that way. He'd been thinking all along that this was something bad, something wrong, instead of something that he's been given for a reason. "I do like you. I just never thought of myself as gay until now."
"I know. I . . . I guess I kinda knew I was, but I never, you know, did anything about it."
"So this wasn't an experiment for you?"
"I already knew how I felt about you."
"All this time? Even before we . . . ?"
JC looks down at their linked hands. He nods silently.
"I never knew."
"I was afraid to tell you."
"I'm glad you finally did. It's gonna take some time to figure this all out, but I am glad."
"Yeah?" JC smiles crookedly. "Yeah. And we will figure it out."
"Okay. Just not all tonight."
"No way! Sleep tonight, okay?"
"Sleep tonight." Lance leans in to kiss JC again. "Good night, JC."
"Good night, Lance." JC moves over on the bed, making room for Lance to climb under the covers.
It's not what Lance expected, but he finds himself stretching out beside JC in this cramped, narrow bed. And somehow, it doesn't bother him at all. They're a perfect fit.