Almost
By Pet

***

Joey was tempted to blame it on JC, even though he knew that wasn't really fair. JC was one of those people with an insane metabolism; people thought he was on drugs, or crazy, when in fact he was just a furnace, burning so much energy he didn't know what to do with it all. He was always hot, always sweating, always bouncing off the walls with that almost-scary grin. And if he didn't get food every few hours, he went REALLY nuts, and then crashed so hard they'd almost called an ambulance a few times. Joey figured all the naps were just his body's last-ditch, desperate attempt to get a break. JC was either on or off, no in between. But to keep him healthy, they had food on hand ALL the time. Sandwiches, cookies, chips. On the bus the fridge had been stocked daily, and tables groaned under food at rehearsals, backstage at concerts. It had been fine when they were young. A nineteen-year-old Joey could eat whatever he wanted, dance it off the next day, and stay pretty fit. A twenty-four year old Joey was not so lucky. But the food was still always around.

***

Teen People

In a recent interview with *N Sync, we asked the guys about stage presence and how they work together during shows. "Oh, we all just bounce around. It's completely high-energy and a lot of fun," states leading man JC Chasez. "Yeah, we stick to the choreography, mostly, but sometimes the crowd's just so great we can't help it, we have to play up to it," chimes in popular favorite Justin Timberlake. "We just jump up and down a lot," laughs class clown Chris Kirkpatrick. "Not me!" Joey Fatone chuckles. "No jumping for me! I mostly just hang out." Chris turns to me and stage-whispers, “Yeah, cuz Joey's FAT!"

***

"What the FUCK, Joe? Get your fat ass off me, you're crushing my ribs!" Justin gave him a hard shove back, settled himself back on the couch with his Playstation controller, one lean leg thrown carelessly over the arm. "Go play with Lance, dude. You take up too much fuckin' space anyway."

Joey just stood still for a second, uncertain and not liking the feel of it. Ran a hand through his hair. Opened his mouth, closed it again, and Justin was just staring at the screen, jerking his hands around as he blasted his way through some level of Tomb Raider hell or other. Long and lean and perfect. Joey left.

***

Blind Item: What always-chunky but recently just-plain-porky boyband member has been placed on notice by his management that it's either slim down or get out? Industry insiders swear that the chubby one is getting a nutritionist and a personal trainer on this year's tour, since his rapidly increasing waistline is hurting the group's popularity in its target demographic.

***

The thing was, Joey didn't FEEL fat. He'd thought he looked ok. Strong arms and wide chest, and yeah, his legs were kind of thick and he had a little belly, but hey. He liked food, he liked beer, he was a GUY.

The nutritionist and publicist who were hovering in the kitchen of the Orlando compound didn't agree, apparently. He'd had a stern talking to, and thank GOD the guys weren't there, because Jesus, he'd never been so embarrassed. They calculated his body fat, and made disapproving noises, and they poked him and pinched him and had him write down what he usually ate in a day. He felt hot, despite the air conditioning, and heavy, and awkward, and generally miserable, and they talked about him like he wasn't there, and he heard them say things like "strictly limit his caloric intake" and "monitor closely" and "special meals." He didn't want to listen any more. His shirt was suddenly too tight.

"But-" he said, and they looked up at him expectantly. "I'm not that…I mean…Chris…"

"Chris has lost almost twenty pounds since rehearsals started for this tour, Joey. You're a special case. Don't worry, we'll take good care of you…Alicia here was Nick Carter's personal nutritionist on THEIR last tour."

She'd sort of been making a try at being nice, he guessed, but he didn't really want to be a special case. He spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, watching tv, and when Chris pounded on the door and yelled that he and Justin were going to dinner and a club so he should get his ass ready and come out, he just pretended that he was sleeping.

***

MEMO
To: Nsync Cast and Crew
Re: Pop Tour Catering
As usual, Craft Services will be handled by WestLake Services for the duration of this year's tour. Please contact your manager for any special dietary needs. Cast prep (yes, this includes you in the makeup department!) will need to transport food to the venues, since catering for the band will be handled privately this year (thanks Fatone!) and those services will not be available to you onsite. Don't say we didn't warn you!

The Management

***

"What the hell is this?" Justin was in a snit, surprise surprise. Another endless rehearsal finally over, and they were fucking exhausted, and Wade was a self-important little prick who thought he was God now that he had songs on the album, and Justin couldn't find cheese fries on the catering table. Joey cringed from his spot on the couch, and even Chris looked up from his collapse on the floor.

"Justin, relax." Lance, being soothing, though Joey could practically see through him, he was so tired. Lance did not suffer rehearsals well. "We'll send someone out…"

"No, man, check it out, all the normal stuff's gone! There's like no food here! What the fuck is this? SALAD? I want a fucking burger and I want one NOW!" His face was red, and Joey couldn't tell if he was just tired and frustrated or if he was about to go into full-on diva mode. He suspected the latter. Justin was halfway there already.

"Jup, fuckin' CHILL, man. You know we got those new caterers, they just don't know what you like yet." Chris let his head fall back onto the floor with a little thud. "I don't know how you can eat anyway. All I want is sleeeep…sleeeep…"

"I want a burger!" Justin stomped to the door and let it slam behind him.

"You said that. We heard you. Christ." Lance muttered, and leaned his head on Joey's sweaty shoulder, and Joey looked down at him in surprise. Lance didn't usually get snippy like that. JC just sighed.

When Justin got back, they hadn't moved an inch, but he had a strange expression on his face, and folded himself to the ground beside Chris.

"Joe…"

"What?"

"Dude, this food's for you, man. We've got a whole different table set up out there."

Joey froze, and Lance looked up at him, and JC moved away from the stack of music and stared, and Chris narrowed his eyes at Justin.

"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean?"

Joey really wished they hadn't done that.

***

JujusGirl2481: Omigod! Did u get the pics I sent u??????? Justin is SO HOT!

NsYnC4Eva12: they are SO KEWL!!!!! Lance looks so sexxay! I can't believe it! Where did u get them

JujusGirl2481: they are on the sight. Did u get the group 1 to?

NsYnC4Eva12: YES! Josh is da man, and Chris is making that funny face…sooooooo CUTE! I almost DIED!!!!!!

JujusGirl2481: wassup with Joey tho?

NsYnC4Eva12: Oink oink!

JujusGirl2481: Omigod!!! ROFLPMP!!!!!

***

Joey had to explain, after all. Why he wasn't going out to eat with them, why he was in the gym with a trainer every morning, even on rehearsal days, why when they left on tour in two days his bus would have a separate fridge, just for him. He didn't know what to say, or where to put his hands, so he just shoved them into his pockets and hunched over, and then realized that made his stomach look bigger, and pulled them out, and let them hang. He hated it when the guys were quiet like this. Just staring at him. Lance had eyes like headlights. God, just find something else to look at!

Chris's mouth was open. He looked completely flabbergasted.

"So…they think you're FAT?" Trust Chris.

"Um. Yeah." He shrugged, looked at the floor.

"And you…Joey, you did NOT agree to this." He was pacing now. Justin was still wide-eyed and quiet. And JC had turned away.

"What am I gonna do, Chris? They said I'm…it's hurting our popularity."

"My white ASS it is! What the FUCK, Joe!" Working up a good head of steam now, rehearsal or not, and Joey had to head this off quick or Chris was going to storm Jive on his behalf, right now, at midnight. Probably with a baseball bat. Scary little fucker, too.

"Hey, it's ok, man. I mean, it's just food. And I'll get all hot, start stealin' the ladies from Jup here…" He tried a smile on. It felt ok. Justin and JC grinned back, relieved and maybe even a little approving, and Chris looked at him in disbelief, shook his head, and muttered something about Nazis and mind control, but dropped it. Joey could still feel Lance's eyes on him, but when he glanced over, Lance looked away.

***

It wasn't that bad, once they were on tour. The first few weeks were always a blur anyway, finally getting the shows nailed down, settling into the buses and the rhythm of hotel life and sound checks and new cities every few days. It's not like he was missing anything, he told himself, eating a plain chicken breast and looking longingly at the cheeseburger Justin was cheerfully putting away.

They monitored his room service bills.

Lance offered him `normal' food out of his fridge, that first night on their bus, but Joey just shook his head, and went to his bunk to read. He didn't really want to talk to Lance about it, because Lance was big boned and solid, but toned and hard and working on a six-pack now, and he had this way of looking at Joey that made him think Lance might be a mind-reader. He didn't really want anyone reading his mind just then. Lance had also apparently decided that Joey was putting up a front, and felt that it was his job to cheer him up, and was constantly hugging him and touching him, which wasn't out of the ordinary, really. But Joey'd never felt disgustingly big while being touched before, and it sent him shuddering away from Lance's hands. It wasn't easy, avoiding the only other person on a two-man bus, but Joey thought he did a pretty good job. And Lance stopped looking at him with big hurt eyes after the second week, which helped.

It was like his entire world had been reduced down to what he ate. It was all he thought about. Pretty much every day he stepped on a scale, and Alicia made a note, and had him turn around and raise his arms, and he stepped off and she smiled at him proudly.

Because it was working. A month and a half in, and he was definitely thinner. Not THIN, but getting there. He felt lighter, and he had more energy, he thought, which was nice, because at their first concert he'd been so self-conscious he could barely sing. Now he was dancing just like the old days, and even managed a wink at the audience in Kansas City, because he'd convinced himself that all the people out there weren't cringing away from him in disgust.

The quick changes between songs still bothered him, though. Next to JC, he felt huge. Justin was worse, because Justin had a body that your average male model would kill for. Chris was ok, because Chris could give a shit if he grew an extra head, as long as he could still play video games and hit his marks onstage. Lance...he didn't like changing in front of Lance. He wasn't sure why.

***

"Yes! We are live with N Sync from our studios in New York, and the guys have taken time out of their sold-out North American tour to come talk to us. First, thanks so much for that amazing performance!"

[wild cheering from the studio audience.]

"Yeah, you were GREAT up there! Now we've got you in the hot seat for a few questions. Joey, you first."

[looks of startled surprise from Justin and JC, and blank incomprehension from Joey.]

"We can't help noticing that you are looking great, lately. Am I right, ladies?"

[screams from the audience.]

"So, tell a poor dieting woman...what's your secret?"

***

"Woo hoo!" Justin was dancing around him, wiggling those hips, and laughing, in Chris's hotel room. "Hot stuff, Joe! You are da MAN! Rosie wants you, baby!"

"Yeah, Joey." Chris batted his eyelashes at him. "You are sooooo fine! What's your secret? I need me some JOEY lovin'!" He threw himself into Joey's arms, swooning, and Joey caught him, laughing. Picked him up and tossed him onto the bed next to Lance, where he promptly collapsed into sobs, burying his head in Lance's lap. "Lance, baby, I've been rejected by the HOTTEST man in the world...help me...my heart is BROKEN, Lance..."

Lance smacked him in the head, and grinned. "Get OFF me, you freak..."

"You are lookin' good, Joe." JC was almost asleep already, in the big armchair, and his voice was slow. He'd be out in seconds, Joey judged. "Really good, man."

Joey smiled, and it felt real for the first time in months.

***

Little was good, but less was better, and Joey stopped eating breakfast sometime around Chicago. It gave him a nice light feeling, almost hollow, and he realized that a cup of coffee and a cigarette gave him all the energy he needed till lunch. Pretty much. Sometimes the light feeling in his stomach traveled up to his head, but he could shake that off, no problem.

Alicia was so happy with him, she started letting him go clubbing again, with a stern reminder of "no beer, Joey, I want you sticking to gin, ok, and not too much." He'd smiled and nodded, and figured it was good that he kind of wasn't eating dinner any more, either, because just a couple of drinks had his head buzzing nicely. And when he was out on the floor, in brand-new tight pants that he couldn't have gotten past his knees two months ago, he felt hot. Sexy. And when Justin rubbed up against him from behind, hard in the hot crowd and the pulse of lights and bass, he didn't flinch away, even when Chris grabbed Justin's hips and yanked him off, looking pissed.

"I was lookin' for some of Joe's mojo…" Justin dissolved into giggles, pliant and drunk in Chris's arms. "Mojo Joe, mojo Joe…Wanna rub it off on me…all the girls are over HERE tonight…" And Chris smacked him and said "Well, don't go humping him on the floor, then, or they'll get the WRONG idea…" and Justin turned in his arms and swayed and giggled again and whispered in Chris's ear, and Chris blushed and dragged him off the dance floor. Whatever. Joe shrugged, and went back to dancing. That tall girl with blond hair looked kind of good. Her eyes were the wrong color. Not-green. Huh.

***

TEEN BEAT

Inside: One on One with Joey Fatone! This N Sync hottie talks about his sudden upsurge in popularity, what he looks for in a girl, and what it's like to be in the hottest band in the world! Full-size wall poster included!

***

When JC moved onto their bus, because "Chris and Justin, JESUS, I mean, they NEVER STOP," it got a little harder for Joey. Not that he was doing anything WRONG, or that he really needed to hide, but he didn't want his friends to worry about him. So he got up earlier and earlier, and when JC offered to make him breakfast, he smiled and shook his head, and "I already ate, man, you know, before I worked out," and JC seemed to accept that. Lance had always been a late sleeper, so he'd never really had to worry about it before, and he didn't like lying, but he wasn't going to start stuffing his face again just because JC could make great French toast and usually went to bed so early he was awake by nine. They usually just grabbed whatever in the evenings anyway, so that was easy, and he could shrug and say "Alicia" whenever they asked him if he wanted to go out with them to some new restaurant.

He didn't even miss the food, really, didn't like food much at all anymore, though sometimes he'd sit in his hotel room and think of Justin flinging peas at JC, and Chris pretending to drool on the dessert cart, and Lance laughing in that low, slow rumble, and feel a little lonely.

He could actually see the lines of ribs when he stood in front of the mirror, now, and the heavy muscles in his arms and chest stood out in relief. He bought a tight pair of jeans and a couple of tank tops, like the ones Justin and JC wore, and even though he never wore them outside the bus or his hotel room, he thought they looked pretty ok.

The first time he took hold of Lance and hauled him over to rest against his side, like he used to, Lance grabbed him around the waist in surprise, and then melted into him. Kept his arms around Joey, and linked his hands together over Joey's hip, and whispered "Where did you go, Joe? There's nothing left of you," and Joey took it as a compliment, even though he wasn't sure Lance meant it like that.

***

Internal Memo
To: Mandy MacIntosh
VP of Public Relations and Marketing
Jive Records

Re: Current popularity rankings, N Sync

Mandy-
The numbers are in from the latest poll, and the rankings are as follows:

1. Justin Timberlake
2. Lance Bass
3. Joey Fatone
4. JC Chasez
5. Chris Kirkpatrick

Great work with the Fatone situation!

I know we'd only briefly discussed an image consultant for JC, but considering the facial hair and his appearance on `Today,' I think we can safely move that up to the top of our priority list. I've enclosed a number of recommendations…

***

Joey's trainer was named Ben, and was an extremely buff, if somewhat short, bundle of energy who sometimes reminded Joey of Chris, if Chris had been taking steroids for about five years. He didn't yell like Wade, though, or condescend to him like Alicia, so Joey really didn't mind working out, especially since it was only a few times a week now that he was dancing almost every night.

Ben was looking at him a little strangely today, though, and finally stopped him in the middle of a set of lunges.

"Joey, are you eating ok?"

"Yeah, same. Why?" He was sweating and tired and it was EARLY and he so did not want to get into this.

"Your energy's definitely down, and you're starting to lose muscle, which isn't right."

Joey shrugged. "I'm just eating what Alicia gives me every day." And throwing about half of it away, he didn't say. And not picking up anything else to snack on, even though I got the green light on that weeks ago, he also didn't say. And smoking almost a pack a day, he didn't add.

"I'm gonna talk to her, then. We might have to tweak your diet some now that your metabolism's back up." He slapped Joey's shoulder. "Hey, you might be scarfing down lasagna again sooner than you thought!" Joey smiled weakly at him, and didn't mention that the thought of all that cheese made him feel a little sick.

Cigarettes were a marvelous appetite suppressant, he'd found. They all smoked socially, once in a while, except Justin who was terrified of tarnishing his image. Joey had taken it up more seriously back when he was still hungry, and it wasn't affecting his voice or his dancing, which he'd told JC when JC had come to him all worried and hesitant and "Hey, Joey, turning into kind of a chimney there, huh?" He could lean out the bus window in the back lounge and keep the smoke from getting too bad inside, but Lance had a sensitive nose and JC didn't like the heavy feeling in the air or something, so Joey spent a lot of time back there by himself. It was ok, he thought. It was better than being in the front lounge and watching JC work his way through an entire bag of Doritos and a sandwich or two before lunch.

***

"Hey, Joey, you feeling ok?" Chris actually looked up from licking Justin's neck long enough to notice Joey stretching and heading for bed, despite the fact that it was only around eight.

"Yeah, man, just a little tired." He could barely keep his eyes open.

"You're always sleeping these days, dude. You sure you're not sick?" Chris looked pretty concerned, which was a surprise, but all Joey could think of was his comfortable bed in his comfortable dark room and the fact that Lance didn't snore.

"Yeah, Joe. You're not turning into JC on us, are you? Because this bastard…" Justin nudged JC with his foot, and got a half-hearted swat in return, "…is enough of a narcoleptic for all of us."

"Shut up, Jup, what, you showing off that you read a dictionary or something?" Lance drawled, and got a pillow thrown at him, and Joey escaped.

Later, though, he felt the bed dip, and there were long fingers in his hair, and he smelled apples, and knew that it was Lance.

"Joey?"

He grumbled and swatted at the hand, because he had been SO close to sleep…

"Joe, come on, man. I need to talk to you." Lance sounded serious. He opened his eyes, and looked at Lance. Didn't say anything.

"I know that you're not eating." And Joey was all the way awake, but couldn't think of a thing to say, just stared through the darkness. He knew his eyes were big. Maybe a little scared-looking.

"Joey, you've got to eat. Half a sandwich a day at lunch is not enough. You're tired all the time, and you're smoking too much. Joe. Come on, say something."

"I eat." He hated sounding defensive.

"No, you don't. I've been paying attention." Fucking Lance, he should have known. "You skip breakfast, and don't give me that shit you lay on JC. You eat lunch, but half the time you leave most of it on your plate. And I don't even know what you do for dinner, but you never eat with us, and I don't think you eat at all. Come on, Joe, tell me what's wrong."

"Alicia, man, you know she's been cutting way back on cal-"

"No WAY, Joey. She doesn't know about this at all, does she? She's a nutritionist, man, there's no way she'd have you stop eating like that."

Joey started getting a little mad.

"What the fuck, Lance? You start hitting the gym five times a week and get all cut, and Justin and JC don't even need to, and I can't lose a little weight without you freaking out? What, afraid you're gonna lose your spot in the top three?" He knew he was sneering, but Lance just looked at him, eyes very clear and very green.

"Nah, Joe. But I can see your bones, man, and that's not good." He rested a hand on Joey's side, rubbed back and forth, and his fingers were so warm. "I think you looked great before, Joey. Healthy. You're always sleeping, now, and you're looking kind of too light for your frame, you know?"

Joey liked the Thin Joe that he had become. Liked that he'd been told to leave his shirt unbuttoned after a change backstage, and got to come back out and get the screams. Liked that JC would tap knuckles against his abdomen and say "damn, Joey. DAMN!" admiringly. Liked that people he hadn't seen in a while would come up to him at awards shows and tell him how fucking fantastic he looked. And Lance thought he was getting TOO thin? Fuck Lance.

"I did not look healthy before, Lance, and you know it. Now Jesus, just let me sleep! I'm FINE." He rolled onto his side, away from that warm hand, and curled into his pillow. Heard a sigh, and the bed shift, and Lance moving around the room, getting ready for sleep.

***

Lance was awake before he was, typing away at his computer, and looking up with a smile when Joey groaned and rolled over and opened his eyes. Joey glared at him as he stomped into the bathroom. He did NOT need a babysitter.

"When you get out, Joe, we'll go get breakfast, ok?"

"I've got to go to the gym!" He shouted through the door.

"No you don't, there's a message on the phone, Ben's canceling today."

"Fuck." Joey muttered, and shaved, and showered, and took his time about it.

The hotel dining room was almost empty by the time they got down there, Justin trailing them sleepily because Chris refused to put up with him before he'd eaten, and JC was still asleep, and probably would be till noon, on a day off.

"Fruit salad" Joey ordered when the waiter came around, but he was cut off by Lance, who got cereal for Justin, and a Western Omelet for both Joey and himself. Joe just scowled. He would NOT eat that.

"Come on, Joey, it's all vegetables. It's good for you. Just eat it, ok?" Lance gave him the big puppy dog eyes, and stuck out his lower lip in a truly Justin-worthy pout, and Joey thought, ok, fine, he just wouldn't eat lunch. The omelet tasted surprisingly good, and Lance even coaxed him into eating some of the potatoes, with Justin looking on like they were both lunatics.

He wasn't prepared for the stomachache that hit about twenty minutes later.

"Fuck." He said, in the middle of tying his shoes because they'd dragged JC out of bed and were going to the movies. "OUCH," and he bent over, arms wrapped around himself, because this really hurt, really badly, like he was being stabbed or something, and he couldn't think at all, and he had to sit down.

"Joey?" JC sounded very concerned, and had his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing a little. "Joe, what's wrong, man. You ok?"

"Something-" He gasped, "something I ate, I think, oh, ouch, JC…" He tilted sideways until he was on the bed, curled into a ball, because that seemed to help.

"Food poisoning? Shit, Joey, who ate with you?"

"Lance and…ahhh…Justin."

He heard JC leaving, heard him come back. The pain was coming in waves, now, and wasn't quite as bad.

"Nah, I'm fine. We had the same thing." Lance's deep rumble. "What did he say?"

"Just that his stomach was hurting. But LOOK at him, Lance, he's white as a sheet."

"I don't think it's food poisoning. Maybe he shouldn't have started with something like eggs. Shit. My fault."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"JC, Joey hasn't eaten a decent meal in weeks. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"WHAT?"

"Jesus, Jayce, where the hell have you been? Joey's fucking starving himself over here."

"He eats! I've seen him eat!"

"You've seen him push food around on a plate, maybe. Joe. Hey, Joey, come on, man, uncurl. Look at me. Joey. You're scaring us, come on."

He opened his eyes, saw Lance, smiled a little. Pretty Lance, always taking care of him. He loved Lance.

"This really hurts, Lance."

"I know, man. Take it easy. It'll be better soon." The hands stroking his back were making him feel a little better.

"Don't make me eat any more, ok?"

"Nah, Joey. We'll go easy for a while." Were those tears in Lance's eyes? Lance shouldn't be crying. The pain in his stomach shifted, changed, and he was up off the bed and pushing past both of them in a sprint for the bathroom. Lance held his head while he coughed up the omelet, and JC gave him water to rinse his mouth, and they tucked him into bed and made him drink ginger ale from the mini-fridge. His stomach felt comfortingly empty again, and he dozed with his head on Lance's thigh, and let the murmurs of his friends' voices send him off to sleep.

***

From the wire:

Top pop group N Sync has postponed tonight's concert in San Francisco, states Jive management. The delayed concert is attributed to Joey Fatone's case of the stomach flu, which, manager Johnny Wright assures, is mild and already `on its way out.' He reminds fans with passes for the show to hang on to those tickets, since they'll be valid at the rescheduled concert. No word as yet on a new performance date.

***

Chris was shaking him by the front of his shirt, and if he didn't lay off, Joey was gonna throw him through a window.

"What were you THINKING? Joey, you bought into that bullshit? You weren't EATING?" Joe didn't think it was right, a man being able to screech that high. "What…I mean…the FUCK?…Joe…WHAT?…" He was actually sputtering now.

"C'mon, Chris, let him go, that ain't helping." Justin dragged him off Joey, for which Joey would be forever grateful. His eardrums, too. They'd all wandered into Joey and Lance's room at some point, to see Joey in bed and Lance petting him, and had been informed of events while Joey was sleeping. He supposed he should be grateful that they'd let him finish his nap before starting in on him.

"You do have to tell us what's going on, though, Joe." Justin was looking much older than his age, which seemed weird, since his usual response to crisis was to regress to kindergarten. Joey wondered absently if this was some strange Chris-effect. Only one infant in the relationship at a time, maybe.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I don't know what happened, I just stopped being hungry. I really don't think it's that big a deal, you guys."

"Not that big a deal? Joe, we postponed tonight's concert because you were throwing up so hard you couldn't stand." JC was pacing, manic-phase. Great.

"Wait…WHAT? Postponed? That's nuts, you can't do that! I'm fine!" He stood up, too quickly and awkward. "I am just the same. I drank some ginger ale, had a nap, I am FINE!"

"You're not fine, Joe." Lance was being calm again. "You're NOT. And we've gotta fix you. Or get you to do it."

"Whatever, but we're going on. You guys know what happens when we postpone. It fucks up the rest of the tour. Come on. I'm fine. I SWEAR. And I'll come out to eat with you after, it'll be fun, come on. Don't make a big deal out of this." He was begging and he didn't care.

So they performed that night, as usual, and Joey went to dinner with them, but it was very difficult to eat when everyone at the table was staring at his plate like it was the most fascinating thing since Must See TV.

When Lance crawled into bed with him after the lights had gone out, and wrapped arms around him like he was afraid Joey was going to vanish in the night, and pressed a sweet, soft kiss to the back of his neck, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

***

Dear Joey-

I'm a huge fan, and when I heard you were sick I just had to write! I hope you're feeling better. I think it's wicked cool that you went on stage even though you were all sick and stuff. Is the flu why you've been looking so thin and tired, lately? Anyway, you've got a whole bunch of fans in Seattle who hope you get better real soon!

My friends and me were at the concert last year and we were…

***

He'd acquired a Lance-shaped shadow pretty much overnight. Lance was sleeping in his bed, following him to the kitchen, to the gym, to the bus when he'd forgotten something there. Joey surprised himself by not minding very much. And he was eating with everyone else, as decreed by Chris, who said "If you're gonna be a fucking idiot about this, Fatone, you deserve an audience" and who kept ordering him huge plates of pasta and giant steaks that made him cringe. But he usually managed to eat at least part of what he was served, mostly because Lance looked so sad when he didn't. But it wasn't Like That, as he told JC when JC offered to move back to the three man bus to give them some privacy. Joey didn't like Lance Like That, or so he informed himself firmly every morning when he woke up wrapped in warm sleepy boy, or when he caved to big green eyes and ordered chicken parmesan instead of a salad.

Lance was with him when Alicia frowned, and looked at her little chart, and asked him if he'd been sticking to her diet because he was putting on weight again. Joey didn't know what to say, but Lance stood up, and told her in a firm, calm Manager voice that Joey had been getting too thin, and that they were taking steps, and she caved too, so maybe it wasn't just him.

He had more energy, sure. But he still felt heavy and bloated after he ate, and he would lay on his bed after, watching Lance at his laptop or on his cellphone, and think about the girl who had ignored him at the club last night in favor of JC, or the way Justin's jeans were forever threatening to slide off his hips (Chris liked that, he knew), or how no one said "lookin' GREAT, Fatone," anymore, or even commented on his appearance at all. He understood. They couldn’t compliment him, because they were all blaming themselves anyway. And they couldn’t say mean things, because that would be worse. So they just kind of ignored him. It was like he didn’t even have a body any more. And he kind of realized that maybe this whole thing had really fucked with his head. His most recent pair of tight leather pants didn't button any more, and he could see softness at his waist again, and he stopped letting Lance sleep in his bed.

***

"He's getting weird again."

"He threw me off the couch when I was just playing, trying to get the remote away from him, and he got all pissy and told me not to touch him."

"I know. I KNOW. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Why's he being such a goddamn girl about everything, yo?"

"Shut the hell up, Justin. I'd like to see what you'd do if management told you that something about your precious self wasn't perfect."

"Jeez, Lance, take a pill. I'm just saying."

"He thinks he's getting fat again."

"He wasn't actually fat to begin with, Jayce!"

"He was getting kind of heavy, La-"

"Oh, FUCK you, JC. Just, fuck you. No wonder he's all messed up."

SLAM.

"I just meant…"

"Shut up, JC."

***

Joey had refused to take off his shirt for some beach-scene photo shoot, and had been yelled at by the photographer, and had stormed off to the bus to sulk. He wasn't even surprised when Lance slid into his bunk with him, moving against Joey until his entire front was pressed against Joey's back, knees tucked behind Joey's, his hand resting over Joey's heart, his face buried in Joey's hair.

"Joey, you've got to stop this. You're making yourself nuts. And you’re scaring us. We love you.”

"Fuck off, Lance. Seriously. Just. Go away."

"Never."

And then Joey was being flipped—Lance looked almost as strong as he actually was, these days, but it was still surprising—and covered, and Lance had his face between his palms, and was kissing him. And it was hot and sweet and everything that he'd been looking for. One slick slide of tongue, and Joey moaned, and Lance pulled back, visible in the dimness only as pale smooth oval of face and the occasional shine of eyes.

"You are fucking beautiful, Joe, now, before, all the time, and I can't stand it that you can't see that." And he bent again, and ran his hands down Joey's arms until their fingers were interlaced, and pressed himself into the vee of Joey's legs, and whispered things like "gorgeous," and "so hot, Joe, you don't even know," and "want you," all in that porn voice that had secretly always made the hairs on Joey's arms stand up and never failed to send a shiver down his spine. And then he was stripping him, ignoring the little motions of protest, and kissing every inch of skin he revealed, praising Joey with mouth and hands and tongue. When Joey was arching up into the best, hottest, fiercest blow job he'd ever had, he could almost forget that he'd put fifteen pounds back on. And when he was running hands down Lance's sides and legs and making him purr and stretch, he could almost understand that Lance really wanted him. And when Lance slid long, delicate fingers oh. so. gently. into him, sparking fireworks in his brain, he could almost believe the "forever" and the "beautiful" and the "love" and the "always" and the "mine."

Almost.

[the end.]