Quietly Supportive
byAMuse

Is this the beginning or beginning of the end

It started out as a joke, a joke Lance hadn't particularly been in the mood for, but was bound to be the brunt of. Justin, finding himself clever and amusing, simply couldn't help himself, which was no surprise at all. So, when Lance entered the room after the news hit, Justin pounced.

"Why-yi-yi-yippie-yi-yay-yippie-yi-yo-yippie-yi-yay."

Before the never-ending list of expletives could even leave Lance's mouth, and being that it is his song, JC chimed in. Joey wasn't far to follow, and he grabbed Lance's hips from behind, and started a conga line. And yeah, even though it was annoying as shit, it was still kind of funny the first time, with four of them piled up on the floor of the bus in a tangle of congaed-out limbs.

As he attempted to detach himself from the fray, Joey's voice rose first from the laughter, "Really Lance, who needs space when you have all this?"

The bathroom door slammed shut, and the room quieted completely.

"Chris apparently."

They had known, of course they had known. The reality of space, and the idea that he'd, one day go up, was something Lance had never fully let go of. And while it wasn't the way he had envisioned it when he was nine, it was, as ever, the chance of a lifetime. When he made the initial decision to pounce on it, he went to his mom first, and then to the guys. He supposed that the idea may have seemed ridiculous at first, but Lance was nothing if not determined, so the seriousness of his pursuit should never have been called into question. And it wasn't as if the preparations and negotiations hadn't been constant.

Chris should have known better. That he hadn't, disappointed the hell out of Lance.

It continued that way for several weeks. Justin kept on with his funny. Chris kept on with the attitude. And it was just too easy to chalk it up to the fact that Chris was a moody bastard and be done with it. They all knew, after living in busses and hotel rooms with Chris, that everything got pushed aside, if not forgotten, so when it came to a head, it had surprised everyone, especially Justin.

"Do you ever get tired of that?" Chris snapped, just as Justin boomed into a 'Why, Yi, Yi' chorus.

"No man," Justin's smile didn't waver, and Chris' face bunched in further annoyance.

"Not the song, nimrod, how fucking. Not. Funny. You. Are."

"What the f-" But Chris was up, leaping over the back of the chair and b-lining for his bunk.

Lance looked to Justin, who was shaking just a little. Considering what Chris was capable of, it wasn't a particularly horrible jab by all counts, but the tone, and the look in Chris' eyes had them all kind of reeling.

"What is up with him?"

Lance tore his gaze from Justin. "I don't know, but boys, I think it's time we found out."

It was an unwritten rule to let a sleeping dog lie. Chris' exit from the lounge served two purposes: one, to save Justin from further tongue-lashing and two, to give Chris time to cool off. And in the time they'd been touring together, they'd learned when to cross the line with each other. Whether they chose to use said education always remained to be seen.

Lance knocked first, then spoke Chris' name. He was met succinctly with a growled, "I'm sleeping."

"I'm not going away till you talk to me."

"Fuck off, Lance. What part of 'I'm sleeping' don't you understand?"

It was an effort not to tell Chris to 'fuck off' himself, and leave the bastard to stew in his own anger, but Lance knew it wouldn't end here if one of them didn't step up, and deal with him. "Guess it was your sleeping self telling me to 'fuck off'."

"Fuck you." Chris snarled.

"Very articulate, Chris, but this is getting a bit ridiculous." Lance moved slowly, yet surely, closer to his friend's bunk. "What is your problem?"

"My problem, Bass," Chris barked, "is that I'm trying to sleep and you won't take the god-damned hint."

"You were out of line just now. You owe J an apology."

"Justin is a fucking baby."

"No, you're a fucking baby. Now what the hell is going on?" Firm voice softened as Lance lowered himself onto the edge of Chris' bunk. "You're freaking us out."

Lance didn't look, but he heard Chris inhale sharply, and then blow out a whole shitload of tension. "I'll apologize."

"And that'll hold us over till the next time you decide Justin is being annoying."

"Don't push me on this one, Lance. I said I'll apologize, leave it at that."

"It isn't just that. You've been acting weird since," And he knew when it started, but he'd never wanted to say it out loud, for fear of voicing the changes what were happening to all of them. It was just easier to go on tour, be *NSYNC, and go about their business without the reality of the personal transformations they'd all be going through once it was over. "Fuck," Lance mumbled. "Look-"

"Don't," Chris cut him off, as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "My issues'll pass, they always do. There's no sense getting all, you know, about it."

"They don't always pass, and you are, all you know, about it," Lance looked at him then. "And I don't get it."

"Because you're a fucking brainfart, Bass," Chris sighed, and Lance watched him loosen up that much more.

"Chris,"

"What are you gonna get up there that you can't get here?"

"It isn't as simple as that."

"Then explain it to me, because I don't understand."

Born to fly sky high up to the top see
Nothing to fear, no doubts and no tears

Lance thought they had understood, all of them. A lot had changed in them all since they started this thing years ago, when two of them were still underage, dealing with zits and puberty, and the fantasy of stardom. And it was always true that they'd never thought they'd come this far, far yes, but this truly was beyond all comprehension. There were times that Lance questioned it all, the validity of his job and the mere idea that, why, since he had it so good, was he questioning anything at all. The meek will inherit the earth, and all. But dammit, Lance got tired of humble, and realized anything he got, he was going to have to reach and take himself. Dreams, reality, it didn't matter. And this, *NSYNC, they grabbed it together, each working themselves until their bones ached and their minds bled.

"Space is mine," Lance started, without taking his eyes from Chris, who watched him with a similar intensity. "Everything I've accomplished, while it's been my dream, it's been yours too. Yours and C's and everyone's. We reached this place where, maybe if I thought I had anything to do with it, I'd be satisfied."

"What the hell is that suppo-"

"No, wait." Lance put his hand between them, hanging it in the air, palm facing Chris. "Not that I wasn't a part of it, but it wasn't mine. It was just always ours. I want something that's just mine, something I'm going to live out and do because it's what I always wanted."

"But you have FreeLance and-"

"It's not the same thing. Those are businesses, something separate from this, separate from space."

"Something for you to fall back on."

"Essentially yes, but that doesn't take away from their importance to me."

"And space is?"

"A dream come true, so far away from everything that dictates my life, proof that I can be beyond this world. It's just for me, Chris. Selfishly and beautifully for me."

"Would you listen to yourself?" Chris snarked, and Lance's hand fell to his lap. "You don't even sound like you. 'Selfishly and beautifully'. You're talking to me, not Tiger-fucking-Beat."

"I thought you understood. They," Lance pointed out towards the lounge. "They do."

"No, they don't. They're just being quietly supportive."

"Why don't you take a lesson from them then?"

"Because I don't do quiet."

Lance twisted away, almost angry at Chris' refusal to back him. "Is this because of the band? The hiatus, or-"

"The band has nothing at all to do with it, Lance. You are so fucking clueless sometimes, it's actually amusing." And Chris laughed, almost bitingly. But when Lance looked, there was something resembling tears pooled in the corner of Chris' eyes. And he wanted to avoid it, not see it, and keep himself in the dark. Like space.

Lance rose to his feet and made a move to leave, before he up and said something he'd regret later. "Just. deal with Justin, okay?"

"Lance, don't, come on," Chris was up and behind him, gripping his arm and pulling him back.

"No, Chris, you were right. I shouldn't have pushed this one. You got your reasons, I got mine. Let's just leave it at that. And next time Justin-"

"Bass." And it was quick pressure, on Lance's arm, fingers digging and pulling. Lance offered his resistance, yanking towards himself and away, before Chris stumbled and the two of them, off-balance, tumbled down. Smacking his head hard against the floor of the bus, Lance cursed Chris furiously.

And you can either be scared or get prepared
Against all odds I bet you never would've dared
To make these moves and take flight like me

"You always do that," Lance scowled, the back of his head pulsing hot as it swelled. "You always have to cross the line, take a step further. Why can't you just leave it when it's done!"

"Because it's not done," Chris was next to him, in a prone position, talking into the carpet. "It won't be done until you tell me that you're not going."

"You fucker."

"Damn right." There was no laughter in his voice, and Lance cringed at the seriousness of it all. It was too much, too late. But Chris moved towards him, pulling himself close, and before Lance could drag himself away, Chris' hand splayed over his heart. Lance met his gaze, the steady stream of brown force willing him to understand the. fear.

"Christ, don't do that," Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. Anything and everything to avoid that look, the frightening, pleading look in Chris' eyes. He was the one who always understood, even when he didn't, who always offered the explanations, the glue that kept them together, the one who swallowed every fucking ounce of pride he had and led them not so quietly because that was his job, falsetto.

"I can't help it."

"I'm in the best shape of my life. This is the time."

Without moving his hand, Chris was on his knees, then straddling, looking down. "How do you know?"

"Because they won't let me go if my body can't handle it."

"How do you know it can handle it? How do you know your heart won't explode and-"

"At least I'll be free, doing what-"

"Can you not be so fucking selfish for once?"

"Fuck you."

"That's the fucking point."

It was out, and out, and Lance turned his head to the side so he couldn't see Chris' face. "You're such a shit."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"It's too late." To which Chris' only reply was, "Fuck."

~..~

The first time, Lance saw Chris naked, he had fled. It hadn't been so much what he saw, but more what he felt within that moment, the pink flush that had risen to his own cheeks, the flutter in his stomach, and the hard-on in his shorts. He hadn't wanted Chris to see that, to see him, on the verge of seventeen, starry-eyed and turned on, by his much older, much wiser bandmate. But Chris had caught his gaze, and Lance, refusing to hold it, ran away. And Chris never mentioned it.

It wasn't like Lance carried a torch for Chris. He had taken his arousal to the bathroom, jerked off, and then let it go. It wasn't like he knew much then, not as far as wooing a guy who might take offense and introduce his face to a right hook. Or far worse, would have been 'the talk', where Chris laid out in no uncertain terms what the deal was when it came to propositioning guys in the band. No, Lance had thought better of entertaining any thoughts of Chris as a potential fuckmate, and went about the business of the band. And it was fine, and Lance was always just fine.

~..~

They ran the last leg of the tour, through middle America and then finally, soundly to Florida. When it was over, it was bittersweet and the usual relief and euphoria was tempered with something resembling fear. Other tours in other lifetimes, they always knew where they were going, and that they'd go together. Lance didn't doubt that eventually, after the break, that they would again, but that didn't stop the emotions from running high, and it didn't keep the post-show embraces from clinging that much more.

Lance had felt Chris' fingers dig into his shoulder, and it hurt.

Life went on, as it always did, post tour. They scattered but not like previous years. Lance thought he wished they wouldn't stick around, not for him, but he kind of liked the feeling that they were grabbing as much of him as they could get before he left.

Lance was home when the call came. They gave him a date and time and it was suddenly more real than ever. He called his mom and she cried. He called JC, then Justin, then Joey. He didn't tell them on the phone, but asked Joey to make sure he brought Chris when they all came over.

It was hard not to gush when he had them all sitting and drinking by the pool. The day was warm and just a little muggy, but Lance breezed. He breezed through the small bit of details he had been given. If he qualified, which no one could tell him, he wouldn't. training, TV, Take-off. Everything together and yet too far down the line. They congratulated him with handshakes, hugs, and tears. Quietly supportive, and Lance had never felt more loved in his life. Chris stayed, but continued, sans malice, to jabber about the chill and loneliness of space. And Lance smiled even though he hurt.

They took turns saying goodbye. It wasn't completely goodbye, since Lance was sure at some point they'd show up on television with him. But he supposed that they needed a stopping point, something concrete and grounded so that life, post Celebrity, could go on.

He played golf with Justin, and they talked for the hours it took to actually walk the greens and play eighteen holes. He never mentioned it afterwards, but Lance knew Justin let him win. JC took him shopping and piled him with anything and everything Russian, including an ordering guide to Russian cuisine.

The day before Lance was due to leave for Russia, Joey took him fishing. They ended up lying on the floor of the boat, beers in hand, staring, through dark glasses, into the sky.

"You're sure about this, right?" Joey asked.

"As sure as I've been about anything."

"And you promise to come back in one piece."

"Yeah, I promise."

"Then have the time of your life, man."

They had a party for him that night. It was all kind of bogus since it was the production company's idea, but Lance couldn't make himself care. It was all coming to a head, the fusing of his dreams and reality and even if Chris had been a prick and done nothing to say goodbye, Lance decided that the time for self-pity would be later.

The clock read half past three when Lance made it home the next morning. He had a little over twelve hours before his flight, and he was so damned tired. Days and days of emotional highs and lows culminated into this, and Lance just crawled under the covers of his bed, in his house, and slept.

Don't be afraid at all
Cuz up in outer space there's no gravity to fall
Put your mind and your body to the test

Lance was in the middle of an early morning conference call when Chris showed up. Lance opened the door, but stood quite still when Chris didn't as much as say 'hi'.

"What are doing here? You're not going to talk me out it, especially not now, not after." But his voice fell away as Chris rested a palm on the doorframe and leaned, still saying nothing. "What. Do. You. Want?" Lance annunciated each word carefully, hoping to convey his irritation, and at the same time, completely cover the absolute relief he felt that Chris had come after all.

But still, Chris said nothing.

"Are you just going to stand there? Say something, dammit."

Chris smiled, not widely, but placidly. His eyebrows arched, and he just kind of shrugged. And Lance understood. "You fucker."

Before Chris could shrug again, Lance grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him inside.

It was hot and open, all at the same time, the kind of warmth that years had never really given Lance a chance to want. Fingers gripping, clothes building a trail behind them, and the sheer force of will that blinded Lance through the tears he hadn't allowed himself to cry until then. There were so many dreams to grab and he would continue, up until he left this world, and rose high above it all, proving to himself that what he wanted mattered, and it was about him, for him, but this, with Chris' lips bruising and possessive, it should have been about him all along, sooner. And Lance responded in kind, taking more for himself, and leaving Chris just a little breathless, and still silent.

It was a pressure Lance wasn't used to, wordless sex, with the only sounds coming from his own mouth, and his only encouragement taken in the buck of Chris' hips and the tension in Chris' legs bent over Lance's shoulders. Strangely enough, and it was something he'd never thought about before, he wanted Chris' voice, needed to hear it. Too long, too quiet. And yet, the silent chill in space would be warmed with this, tight heat and the slide inside, fusing, melding, and fucking splendidly deep.

The initial grunt was barely audible, and Lance felt himself shudder, a thundering shake rumbling from the inside out, building the pressure, and yet keeping it at a distance. Deeper thrust and closer, his edge completely gone, "I need to hear you," quiet pleading met a furtive smile and a sparkle in the dancing darkness of Chris' eyes. "Chris."

Chris groaned, surprisingly deep and throaty.

Lance's hips jarred, the unexpected sound tingling over sweat-soaked skin. "Oh yeah, baby, like that." Arms taut and stretched, fingers curling into the woven silk of the sheets. Felt the response, Chris' body jerk beneath him, the slide of Chris' cock throbbing against his belly, the gasped, "Oh fuck, oh fuck," and Lance came, long and hard and loud.

See I'm talking bout the future y'all
And the future looks bright

He was too tired to fly, and even though he only had a mere two hours to get the airport and run through security, he couldn't make himself get out of bed. Chris had been talking for an hour about the desolate wasteland of space, and Lance just listened.

"This doesn't change anything," Lance told him, as time slowly became an issue.

"It changes everything, you twerp, but different like."

Lance got up and started dressing while Chris watched. "You're not going to shower?"

Lance looked down at himself and shook his head. "No, it'll tide me over till you decide to get your ass to Russia and keep me warm."

Chris snorted. "Fat chance."

"Yeah, we'll see. You can't resist me, old man, my nimble young body-"

And Chris was up and pouncing and Lance laughed, as they hit the floor, laughed until Chris' mouth found his and he started shaking out something other than hilarity. "You really are a shit, you know?"

"I know, but better late than never, right?"

Lance sighed heavily. "Yeah, should be your mantra maybe."

"We'll see how long it takes me to haul my ass to Russia, then we'll talk mantra."

Lance laughed again as Chris picked himself off the floor, and offered him a hand. "Thanks," Lance took the hand, and hopped to his feet. "For the support I mean. You know, with you not doing quiet and all. Means a lot."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it."

Another smile, "Wouldn't dream of it."

End the transmission