The problem with Chris, Lance had often thought, was that he had no internal censor. If he was feeling something, he showed it, if he was thinking something, he said it. If he wanted something, he went after it, and he fought until he had it, and that was that.

Well, it wasn't really a problem so much. It just kind of...separated them, because Lance wasn't like that himself and didn't really understand it. He wasn't quiet or shy the way he had been years ago, the way too many teen mags portrayed him now, but he was a little more reserved.

Like, right now--he had to fold his legs up on the couch because he kept getting kicked as Chris and Justin danced, Justin following, laughing as Chris waltzed him around the room. Fast. And a little more wildly than was traditional, which explained why Lance'd have bruised shins and why dozens of industry people had forced grins through having their toes accidently tromped on when Chris and Justin whirled too close.

Chris had wanted to be the center of attention, Lance had seen that in his eyes, had been able to watch Chris look around and calculate which of the guys would be the most fun to harass, who would react in a way that got all eyes on them. Had known in advance who he'd choose--it was pretty much always Justin lately. For one, people's eyes kind of were naturally drawn to him, plus he really thought Chris was funny, plus he was twenty-one and famous and comfortable doing pretty much anything, anywhere.

If Chris had tried to waltz Lance around the room, he'd have sat down on the floor and pretty much refused to move, like Busta when Chris got it into his head that really, actually, truly, the dog wanted to go for a walk, he just didn't know it yet.

Justin, though, he followed Chris' lead like a pro, like he had years of dancing backwards under his belt. Lance watched, smiling a little, not thinking about what it'd be like to feel comfortable goofing off that way with so many people around, what it'd be like to spin around the room with his hand in Chris' and their gazes locked, grinning and laughing and happy to be close.

Not thinking at all.

There was no music so their waltz could have gone on forever but Justin's lips moved and Chris nodded, finished the dance with a flourish; he and Justin posed and smiled at each other as the scattered crowd applauded. But Justin was soon whisked away, and Lance knew that Chris'd be wandering around, bored, looking for someone to torment now that his dance partner'd been abducted--and Joey and JC were nowhere to be seen, had disappeared a while ago. That meant he was up for the next round of torment and he wasn't sure he could take it, considering the kind of mood he'd been in lately when it came to Chris, his relationship with Chris. So he unfolded his legs and, without looking in Chris' direction for more than a heartbeat, began to slink out the door.

No one got in his way but the crowd was thick enough for coverage, he was pretty sure, so when he reached a side door and passed through into a prep room, through there into a lounge with a door leading to the manicured grounds, he was fairly certain that he was safe.

However. He hadn't even managed to wrap his hand around the door handle when he sensed another presence in the room, and didn't even have time to twist around before there was a warm, heavy weight being thrown against his back.

"Where ya going, Bass?" Chris whispered into his ear, breath washing over his skin. Lance flinched and turned his head away; Chris was abnormal, a guy who'd sink his teeth into another man's earlobe and not really mean anything by it, and Lance was the kind of guy who'd feel that press of sharp points into tender skin and moan. Automatically.

Really, automatically.

"I need some air, Chris," he mumbled, trying to shake Chris off his back. But then there was a hot chuckle in his ear, and climbing, and Chris wrapped muscular, solid legs around Lance's waist. His arms came around Lance's shoulders and Lance was knocked off-balance and stumbled a little, sideways, into the wall--

Which Chris' knee hit, hard.

He yelped, high and startled, and started to slide down; Lance, wincing in sympathy, felt his legs begin to fold awkwardly and didn't fight it--fighting always made the falling worse. He let them both tumble to the floor, managing to twist and land under Chris, trying to protect his knee.

"Sorry, sorry," he was saying automatically as he untangled himself, knelt, gripped Chris' knees through his jeans, although it was really Chris' fault and if Chris had just used a little common sense and not jumped him when he wasn't expecting it, they'd both be fine--

But when he looked up from his hands wrapping tight around Chris' surprisingly bony knees, suddenly delicate-seeming points of bone underneath scarred skin, underneath denim, he was met by a brilliant, laughing stare.

"Fucking jerk," Chris said, not without affection, dark eyes gleaming. "Get some grace or something, huh? Maybe a little balance?"

"You try balancing with a monkey on your back," Lance said, smiling now since Chris was joking and therefore fine, and he unfolded himself from the floor. Chris ignored his offered hand and sprung up under his own power--as he always had. But instead of brushing off his ass, making another joke, he came right up against Lance's chest and tucked himself in, sighing.

Lance, startled, froze for a moment. He was used to being hit with the lightning bolt of Chris' attention but typically when Chris graced him with it, there was wiggling, bouncing or poking involved. This time, Chris just settled in like it was natural and normal. In an attempt to go along with that, Lance did the manly thing, squeezed for a second and then patted Chris' back awkwardly.

Chris didn't take the hint. He had always been like that, quick to reach out and poke, quick to hug, slow slow slow to lose the mask of obliviousness. But he had always been quick to leave, too, and would be off in a second to do something else and Lance had learned early that it was better to not be trying something stupid, like holding on, when Chris wanted to leave. Since it wouldn't really. Get him anywhere.

Not that there was somewhere to be, exactly.

Chris didn't seem to be letting go though, this time. His body felt solid and warm pressed against Lance's, and comfortable, as if he was completely unaware of Lance's tension and his attempts at distance. He was just resting, no weight on the bumped knee, his breath hot through Lance's shirt.

"Chris," he whispered, feeling like he couldn't stand another moment of the sun-drenched silence. "Chris, are you all right?"

"'m fine," Chris said back, sounding half-asleep. "Shhh. Dancing, entertaining, hunting you up, being thrown at a wall...I've had a rough day. I'm tired. I'm going to nap now." And Lance was both glad that he had Chris' trust--he really didn't just, you know, go to sleep on people much--and afraid.

For unknown reasons.

Chris made a sound of pleasure, of unexpected contentment. Lance let his head tilt back against the wall and closed his eyes. Wasn't I thinking earlier that something kept us separate? he wondered as the sun pouring in through the windows baked his skin and Chris' breathing slowed into something that suggested tranquility. Wasn't I just thinking that we were distant?

Then Chris murmured, shifted, and Lance realized that he was aroused, that they were both--

Hadn't he been thinking earlier that Chris couldn't hide anything?

"Chris," he said, and his voice sounded loud even though he hadn't really raised it above a whisper. "I don't understand what's going on here."

"Stop worrying so much, Bass," Chris murmured. "It's just a hug."

Lance said, "This is not just a hug," but completely without his permission, his arms held a little more tightly. Then, when Chris laughed and pressed harder, fitting himself more tightly into Lance's arms, he opened his eyes.

Chris was smiling at him.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't have to really be anything else," he said. "If you don't want it to be."

And Lance bit his lip, studied dark eyes and golden skin, the fierce white smile. There was something there, something more honest and real than he'd ever seen in Chris before--

And he'd thought Chris was obvious but apparently he'd been an enigma all along--

So he gathered his courage as he'd done a hundred thousand times since the day he'd signed up to sing with this guy, with his friends. Took the kind of plunge he wouldn't have been able to take all those years ago, or today even, if Chris hadn't decided to show him this for whatever crazy Chris-reason existed.

"And if I did?" he asked, very quietly because it was kind of. Soul-baring. To say something like that to Chris, who was watching him with warmth, extraordinary patience; things Lance'd never expected to see in Chris and therefore hadn't believed existed.

Apparently, a lot more things existed than Lance had imagined.

"If you do, I do." Chris' smile widened. "But if you do and I do then I don't know what you've been waiting for, Lance, and I suggest you knock it off with the whole denial thing. Just kiss me before someone comes looking for us and interrupts this magic moment."

"I think I do. Want to kiss you," Lance said, and it sounded like a revelation, which he guessed it kind of wasn't. Then he bit his lip again, looked around quickly because it was an automatic habit now, and he leaned forward. Brushed his bitten lip across Chris' curved one in a hesitant, glancing kiss, and was pretty sure he felt the wall that braced him shake, tremble, collapse.

But somehow, he was still standing. And when he pulled away, the wall was still cool against his back.

Chris leaned against him and laughed, a breezily demented sound. "You're such a Romeo," he said, mockery, affection. Lance had to smile a little, but he pressed against Chris harder, to kiss him again, to cast his slick tongue into Chris' mouth and tangle with him briefly, wetly, before slipping free. Barely a longer kiss than the first, just a little more intense, and the room didn't shake. Lance still felt changed though, on a fundamental level.

Chris seemed just the same.

"Again," he said. "One more kiss to seal the deal."

"I sealed it on my end with the first one, Chris." Part of his new change was apparently the ability to just reach out, to touch Chris' hair, to smile and be confident with it. His hand slipped around, fingers trailing through the short, soft hair at the back of Chris' neck as his head tilted forward and he sighed, obviously enjoying the touch. For a moment, they stood like that in the sunlit lounge, quiet and restful.

And then Chris cleared his throat.

"I feel rested," he declared abruptly. Brightly. Normal Chris, but when Lance met his gaze, there were deep secrets there, deep certainty. Normal, but in an all new way. "Gonna go see if Justin wants to dance with me again," he said. "I'll see you later. Tonight." And he slid against Lance's groin, the movement full of heat and meaning, before he slipped away.

Lance watched him go, smiling. Thinking about all the time he'd erroneously spent assuming that Chris was open, his every desire obvious, and about all the time he'd spent assuming that he'd never want to waltz backwards in public. And that later, he'd be the one Chris asked to dance, and he'd agree.

Knowing that, best of all, their dance would not be for the crowd.

~end~