"Holy fucking shit! Orange? How in the hell did that happen?" Chris stared at Lance.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm wearing gray, dumbass. I think you need your eyes tested, old man."

"Not your shirt, dumbshit. I am wearing my glasses, anyway. When was the last time you looked in the mirror?"

"Chris? I don't have time for this. What are you talking about?"

Chris grabbed Lance by the shoulders and marched him into the bathroom. "You're orange, dude!"

Lance stared at himself for a long time. "You're crazy. I'm just a little darker than pasty white. We are in the Bahamas, you know. Tanning is inevitable."

"While I admit you are darker than pasty white, you are in no way tan. You are orange! What the fuck happened?" Chris began to lift Lance's shirt.

Lance yanked his shirt down as best he could. "I'm not orange. Fuck, Chris. Get off me. Justin let me use his tanning bed before we came down here, that's all."

"Don't lie to me. You were not that color this morning."

"It must be the lighting in here. Now, let me go. I have to make a phone call."

Chris dragged Lance out of the bathroom and onto the balcony of the hotel. "Look at yourself in the sun. You. Are. Orange. You were not orange before. Please trust me on this, Lance. I know your skin. Now tell me what you did."

Lance looked down at his hands. "You're crazy. It's nothing. It'll fade anyway." Lance yanked himself out of Chris grasp, stalked back into the room and grabbed his cell phone. "I'll see you later, Chris."

He managed not to slam the door on the way out.

Chris stared in disbelief as the door closed. He knew his eyes were fine. Lance really was orange, he'd stake his career on that. He didn't doubt that Lance had been using Justin's tanning bed; his skin had been looking slightly less pale in the last few weeks. Chris hadn't said anything to Lance, because he knew Lance didn't want to look washed out in the stupid white costumes they wore for 'Pop', but he missed the expanse of creamy skin. When he ran his tongue over it, it seemed like it didn't taste the same. He knew it was probably all in his head, but there it was.

Chris headed toward the door, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, and to do a taste test later, just for comparison.

Chris found Joey sitting by the pool with Kelly and Brianna. "Hey, have you guys seen Lance lately?"

Joey held his daughter in the water, letting her splash around and make delighted sounds. "Haven't seen him today yet, why?"

"He's orange, man, and he won't believe me."

Joey started to laugh. "Yeah. He's been overdoing the tanning a little. What I can't figure out is how he doesn't burn anymore. The guy used to spend 5 minutes in the sun and he was a lobster."

Chris shook his head. "No, I mean since this morning. He was not orange this morning and now he is. If he was red, I'd know he burned. But it's the most unnatural color I've ever seen. It's freaking me out, dude."

"Well, like I said, I haven't seen him the morning, so I dunno. Kel? Have you seen Lance?"

Kelly shook her head.

"What do you mean by unnatural? I mean, I used to say that about him when we first met him, remember?" Joey joked.

"Well, then he was unnaturally white - albino boy. But now he's orange. Like carrot-colored or something, but not. Not a color skin is supposed to be. And it's only on his face, neck, and arms, as far as I can tell, although he was wearing pants..."

Joey continued to laugh. "Dude. It's gotta stop. Orange?? How did he turn orange?"

Chris folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know," he said, over-enunciating each word. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, why I'm asking you."

"Can't help ya, sorry."

"Maybe Justin or JC has a clue. I'm gonna go look for them." Chris made a funny face at Brianna, eliciting a giggle. "You have any clue what your godfather did to himself, baby?"

Brianna burbled and laughed again, drooling down her chin. "You're as classy as your dad," Chris grinned. "See you guys later."

"Hey, leave my daughter out of this. See ya around."

Chris headed for the stage. No doubt he'd find both JC and Justin there, driving the roadies batty, getting in their way. Sure enough, they were loudly discussing whether part of the set should be slightly to the right of where it currently rested.

Chris came up behind them and wrapped an arm over each of their shoulders.

"Boys, why don't we let the nice, competent stage crew get the set ready, and we'll get something to drink. It's hot out here and you two want to be all refreshed for tonight's show, don't you?" Chris asked in his most patronizing voice.

"But they changed the lighting a little. I look off," said Justin, studying the lighting plan carefully.

"Justin, you do not. How many times do I have to tell you?" JC sounded exasperated.

Chris carefully steered them off the stage before jumping on Justin's back. "Take me to the restaurant on the beach or I will never get down!"

"Ouch! Fucker. Fine," Justin groused.

"What's up, Chris?"

"Have you guys seen Lance since breakfast?"

"Not since. But I talked to him this morning before breakfast, why?" asked JC.

"Because sometime between when I left him at breakfast and got back from my FuMan conference call, he turned orange. At least his face, arms and neck did. And he's insisting he's not. But he totally did."

"Orange?!!" Justin started to howl.

JC looked thoughtful. "Really? That's never happened to me. Shouldn't have done that."

Chris jumped off Justin and began walking backwards in front of JC. "What's never happened to you? What shouldn't have done that?"

JC backed away from Chris who looked like he might attack him at any minute. "The stuff he asked me for. Lance was complaining...about being pale. So, I gave him this tube of stuff that I use sometimes. No big deal."

"What kind of stuff?" Chris asked dangerously.

"Jesus, Chris, just tanning oil stuff."

"Tanning oil to wear in the sun? That doesn't make sense. He should have just burned..." Chris looked perplexed.

"No...tanning...cream I guess it is. I dunno. I only ever use it now and then," JC tried to explain.

"Like the self-tanning shit?"

"Yeah. Justin, will you quit laughing? What the hell is so funny?"

"You turned Lance orange!" Chris shouted.

"Chris. Lower your voice, for fuck's sake." JC looked pissed. "Announce it to everyone why don't you. Besides, I didn't turn him orange. It's not my fault if he used to too much."

"Yes it is! You gave him the stuff, so it's all your fault!"

Justin was still laughing. "Makeup is going to kick your ass, JC! They're going to have to use every trick in the book to make Lance look not orange."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," JC said. "Chris, stop looking at me like that. I just gave him something he asked for. Sue me for being a good friend."

"Good friends do not turn each other orange," Chris retorted.

JC pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Look. It washes off. If Lance's skin really bothers you so pissing much, go do something about it. Please leave me alone."

Chris stopped walking. "Wait, it washes off?"

"Well, sorta. It fades. But more with water."

"Why didn't you say so?" Chris leaned in to buss JC on the cheek. "You broke him and now I get to fix him!" Now he just had to find Lance. "Bye," he called over his shoulder as he took off running.

JC just rolled his eyes. "Justin! Get back here and leave Anthony alone!"

Chris ran straight to the business center in the hotel. Sure enough, there was Lance standing over a fax machine, cell phone to ear, laptop humming on the desk next to him. He had the place to himself.

Chris closed the door behind him and locked it. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote, "You have 30 seconds to get off the phone, pack your stuff and come with me or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the room myself."

Lance glared at Chris and put his hand over the receiver. "The fuck, Chris? I'm working. I set aside a few hours everyday so you can annoy the hell out of me, and now isn't one of those times."

Chris tapped his watch. "You've only got 20 seconds left..."

"Fuck." Lance muttered. "Beth? I've got to go. There's a really annoying person here I have to get rid of. I'll catch you later....okay, bye."

He snapped his phone shut. "What? And if you mention the color of my skin, I swear..."

"You got 10 seconds to pack up your shit before I do it. You'd better get the Bass ass in gear."

"Where are you dragging me?"

"Upstairs. Now. It's an emergency."

"A Chris emergency or a real one?"

"Depends on who you ask. I think it's real, but you'd just think it was me."

Lance sighed. "You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?"

"No, but that's only because I know you don't want me to."

Lance failed hiding a small smile. "Okay. Let's go." He grabbed his stuff and heading out the door, following Chris. "Can you tell me what's gotten up your ass?"

"For one, not you since yesterday, which is just longer than I should ever have to go without. But that's neither here nor there. If you're asking what's bugging me, it's that you're fucking orange instead of the delectable creamy white you usually are, and I found a way to fix it!"

"Chris. It'll fade okay? It's not a big deal. By the time of the concert it'll be tan color. And it's not orange anyway. Stop exaggerating. And if you think I'm so depraved as to let you get your hands on my skin with some crazy scheme to change it back, you're crazy."

"You are orange. I am not exaggerating. And the way to change it back is not at all crazy, although it could lead to crazy sex. If you're not interested, though..."

"Sneak. That's not fair."

Before Chris could reply, they ran into Joey, Kelly and Brianna by the elevator.

"Jeez, Lance, what happened to you? You are orange. Chris, you weren't kidding," Joey exclaimed.

"Hah!" Chris crowed. "But have no fear, I found out how to fix him."

"Lord have mercy," mumbled Lance. "Chris, seriously, what are you gonna do?"

"Not in front of your goddaughter," Chris teased. "Have some patience and you will see."

Lance followed Chris until they were back at his room. He wandered over to the mirror and looked again. "It's really not that bad, is it? I mean, c'mon Chris, you've endured other fashion and appearance blunders from me, what's the deal with this one?"

"You're orange. It's not natural." He looked down and toed the carpet. "Besides, I miss the real you. Mr. Hollywood is around so much now..."

"What? Chris, I don't understand."

"Never mind. Let's just get you back to a decent shade of skin." Chris tried to tug at Lance's shirt.

Lance batted his hands away. "Chris. You're not touching me until you explain."

"It's nothing, Lance. I just miss you sometimes when you're all wrapped up with business. I know you need to give it your time. I'm cool with that. It's just that lately, it's taking up lots of time. That's all. Now can we please get with the touching?" Chris again began to lift Lance's shirt over his head. "I think this will work best if you're naked. It'd be such a pity to soak your clothes."

"I didn't know...I'm sorry."" Lance looked down at the scuffs on his shoes. "Okay, so what's this miracle cure of yours?"

"Lance," Chris warned, "Don't even for one second waste any time thinking that I'm not getting enough time with you because we're good. And we'll be better as soon as your pants are on the floor."

Lance gave Chris a skeptical look. "Chris, the orange is above my waist." Chris glared at him. "Okay, okay," and he did what he was told.

Chris took Lance's hand when he was stripped and led him to the bathroom. He turned on the water in the whirlpool tub, adjusted the temperature, and removed his own clothes. "See, JC said if we washed you, the color would fade. I thought about using just my tongue, and while that would be really fun, I'm not sure I have enough spit to do the job. So then I thought, well, if I lick you all over while we're in the tub, then I don't need to worry about having enough spit, and it'll still get rid of the orange. Plus, way more fun. That okay with you?"

Lance suppressed a groan as he felt Chris' hands run up his chest. "I think I'll be able to suffer through it, yeah."

Chris licked Lance's neck. It did taste different, but underneath the chemical flavor was the Lance taste he was addicted to. "Get your ass in the tub, Bass. I've got plans."

~end~