THIRTEEN

 

It was a long way before Ken said anything again, which was pretty unlike him. Nor did he distract himself with video games, or even pull out his phone to play some mindless games there.

No, he just sat there, draped over most of the couch, his glowering face a raincloud in the otherwise cheerful bus. Everyone was fascinated by Star, who wandered around the place like she owned it, like she belonged here. Of course, she seemed most interested in where they’d put down her food and water bowls, sniffing at them endearingly before lapping up some water with a delicate pink tongue.

It was sort of funny. Star was Lance’s, in name, at least, but she seemed like she was going to become more like a band mascot than anything else. She had touched the hearts of at least three of the four Lost Boys, and even Ken surely wouldn’t be able to resist for long.

Ken. There was guilt there when Lance poked at it. Or even when he didn’t, to be honest. Ken was doing such a poor job of hiding his anger, but he wasn’t talking about it, which had to feel strange to a man who was normally so open.

Lance waited until they’d been on the bus for hours, on their way to the next stop on their tour, but Ken didn’t say a word. He just sat, and stewed, and Lance watched him with more and more concern.

If Ken would just let off the steam that he was clearly feeling, chances were, in Lance’s experiences with his best friend, he would recover quickly, get it out of his system, move on. Ken was a hothead, but the brief burst of anger, while it burned hot, also burned itself out quickly.

Lance found himself more and more concerned as Ken kept it to himself. That wasn’t good, especially not for someone like Ken, and he got up and walked over to Ken, sitting down beside him, nudging his feet out of the way so that he could seat himself.

“What going on?” Lance asked, watching Ken’s face. He’d been thinking about this man so much as his adversary, someone he had to keep secrets from or risk ruining his own life, but this man was his friend. And he’d been his friend since long before Jamie had come into the picture since long before Ken’s strange antagonism toward the newest Lost Boy had been such an issue.

Ken gave what looked like a sullen shrug, and Lance frowned a little bit as he studied Ken’s face. Or he tried to since the other man had it turned mostly away from him. All Lance could see was one ear, the curve of his chin and his cheekbone, and part of one eye.

It wasn’t just anger in that eye, though. There was sadness, too, wasn’t there? Just when Lance had discovered that look, though, Ken turned to gaze at him directly, and his face was, just for a moment, anguished.

“Why did Jamie buy you a cat?” Ken asked, and Lance tried to force his gaze to stay steady on Ken’s, but his eyes slid off of Ken’s like water skating over an oily surface. His fault, he knew it, not Ken’s. After all, Ken wasn’t the one hiding anything.

“I …” Lance took a deep breath, trying to make himself tell a lie, which was harder than he would have expected. Hiding things from his best friend felt strange, unnatural, though he’d done it before. Ken knew hardly anything about Lance, at least not anything important.

Opening up to Aaron had proven to be a dangerous thing, though, because now Lance wanted to tell everyone. He wanted to share with his best friend, wished more than anything that Ken could just be happy for him. But that was never going to happen. Or not soon, anyway.

“I’m not an idiot,” Ken sighed, and there wasn’t anger in his face anymore, not more than a hint of it. Instead, there was sadness, almost despair. “People think I’m an idiot, but I’m not. I might not notice everything, but I notice enough.”

That was all Ken said for a few moments, while Lance struggled to free himself from the crippling grip that guilt had on his tongue, on his whole body. He tried to speak, to say something, anything, but he couldn’t do it.

This might be the perfect time to tell Ken, but something held Lance back. Ken wasn’t ready, he told himself. But when it came down to it, Lance had to admit that maybe it wasn’t Ken who wasn’t ready.

“We should probably go out again soon,” Ken finally spoke, as he stood up, still with that devastating look on his face. Anger had been so much easier for Lance to deal with. “If you care about that anymore.”

Then, Ken was gone, leaving Lance alone to wrestle with his own thoughts. What a mess he’d made, and yet, what else could he have done? He’d tried to keep his distance from Jamie, but that had proven to be utterly impossible.

Why couldn’t things be different? Why couldn’t he just date Jamie? He closed his eyes and leaned back into the spot which Ken had vacated. It was too much of a risk. Soon, he tried to comfort himself. Soon, he would talk to Lester. He kept saying that, but then, really not that much time had passed.

He rubbed at his temples, and the look in Ken’s eyes haunted him. As soon as they got somewhere private, somewhere where they couldn’t be overheard at all, Lance was going to have to talk to Jamie.

Their tour was going to be over the whole summer, after all. For the next two and a half months, they were going to be on the road together. They all had time to work this out. And somehow, Lance was going to have to try to make himself believe that it could work out, that it wasn’t all hopeless.

Star climbed into his lap, curling up into an impossibly tiny ball of fluff there and dozing off again, and Lance took comfort in the warmth of her body, in the way she buzzed happily under his fingertips as she dozed off.

 

* * *

 

Lester pulled Lance and Ken aside when they got to the arena. The conversation they had there was brief, terse. Their date had turned heads, but it had faded from the collective consciousness of their fans, Lester informed them. If they wanted to keep this going, they were going to have to ramp the heat up.

The whole time, Lance found himself on edge, waiting for Ken to say what he knew, or suspected. Waiting for the man to tell on him, because the truth was, Lance hadn’t kept his part of the deal. He’d promised to try to make Jamie leave, to scare him off, and instead, he’d started sleeping with the guy.

But Ken didn’t say a word. He just gave a curt nod, then went off to get checked into the hotel. Lance followed more slowly, watching his friend’s back, hating himself at that moment for the wedge which had come between him and Ken.

It made him surer than ever. Jamie was important to Lance, far too important, but so was Ken. And so was Lance’s spot in the band. Lance had been slack lately, talking to Aaron about it, and kissing, touching, Jamie every chance he got. The right thing to do would probably be to give up Jamie entirely, but he already knew that he wasn’t going to be able to do that. Hadn’t he already tried?

Damn it. Why couldn’t Ken and Jamie just get along? Then the three of them could go to Lester together … Lance shook his head as the band made their way to the suite of rooms they had booked, and he watched as Ken went immediately to his room, dropped his bags off, and then stormed out of the place. He was dressed to go running, something that Lance knew his friend did when he was dealing with stuff.

“Jamie,” Lance said, as he set down the carrier which held Star, who was sniffing around at her surroundings with interest and who came right out when Lance opened the door for her after setting up her food and water, as well as some toys. They probably weren’t supposed to have pets in here, but Lance didn’t really care that much.

Jamie glanced through the door of his room, head tilted inquisitively to the side, and Lance tried to bolster his heart against the way that look made him feel. How innocent, almost, Jamie seemed in that moment, a slight smile on his face.

“Yeah?” Jamie asked, and Lance glanced at Aaron, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

“I’m going to go get some snacks and stuff,” Aaron commented, but Lance knew better. Aaron was giving them privacy, which was pretty damn decent of the guy.

Lance sighed softly, looking around the room. Ken was gone and would be for quite some time—there was no doubt about that. The guy had had some serious stuff to work out, and Lance couldn’t begrudge him that.

“Come here?” Lance requested, patting the spot beside him on the couch as he sat down on it. Jamie frowned, maybe put on guard by the tone of Lance’s voice. Whatever it was, Jamie walked cautiously over to him, dropping down into the seat beside him with his face guarded.

“What is it?” Jamie asked, and Lance sighed. There was no way this was going to be easy, but at the same time, what choice did he have?

“Look, we have to be more careful,” Lance said bluntly. There was no point in trying to hold back on this one. Better to just get it into the open. “I mean, Aaron knows and …”

“He knows because you told him!” Jamie protested, interrupting Lance, but Lance just shrugged to acknowledge the point and continued on.

“I know. But Ken suspects something, too. He told me. And Lester said …” Lance tried to explain, his words tumbling all over each other as they spilled from his lips in a torrent, but Jamie just looked away, all masks firmly back in place, guard up once more.

God, Lance hated to see that, but he couldn’t exactly ask for anything else, not as long as everything was so strained between them. Not until he was really free to give himself to Jamie.

“Yeah, it’s cool, I get it,” Jamie said, his eyes fixed on Star, who was sniffing curiously at a table leg, rather than on Lance. “No big deal, man.”

No big deal, man? Because to Lance, it felt like a pretty fucking big deal. What had the gift of the cat meant? Or had Lance just been rushing ahead of himself, eager to see signs of romantic attachment when there weren’t any, just because he wanted there to be?

“Are we okay?” Lance asked, his tone coming out hesitant, but he forced the words from his mouth. Jamie, however, just shrugged, and for a long moment, he didn’t speak.

Finally, the redhead let out a soft sigh and gave Lance a cocky little half smile, the sort of smirk that he hadn’t seen on that beautiful face for quite a few days, now.

“Sure,” Jamie told him, not meeting Lance’s eyes, not quite. “Why wouldn’t we be? I mean, we both knew what this was.”

“Jamie …” Lance took a deep breath, and at that moment, he was ready to spill everything. Ready to tell Jamie about his plan, the one he’d secretly been forming. But was it what Jamie even wanted? Was Lance getting ahead of himself, letting himself like, or even love, this man?

“No worries. I mean it. It’s all good. I’ll be around if you wanna fuck later,” Jamie told him, his tone careless. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. We’ll figure it out.”

It’s all good. I’ll be around if you want to fuck later. And Jamie would keep Lance’s secret. Lance’s secret, not theirs. Lance wanted to curse, he wanted to grab Jamie and pull him down and make him understand, but Jamie was gone before Lance could even make up his mind to do any of those things.

Maybe gone forever, had Lance lost his only chance? Someone who had been hurt as badly as Jamie obviously had probably wouldn’t be all that interested in trusting.

He very easily could have ruined things with Jamie there, and all he could do was hope that Jamie would give him the chance to fix it. But that didn’t seem exactly likely to him.

 

* * *

 

That night, Jamie stayed in his own bedroom, and so did Lance. They both needed some time to figure out what this all meant. For the next couple of weeks, they barely talked to each other, except at dance practice, where Jamie stayed as far from Lance as humanly possible, and for rehearsals. For concerts. Other public places, where there was no time for anything.

Before it seemed possible, they were a whole month into their three-month tour, and Lance sighed as he realized that this was the time when he’d been planning to tell Lester that he wanted to stage a breakup with Ken and build something with Jamie. It could be slow, but he had been so determined to make it happen.

Now, he wasn’t sure. Was there even any interest from Jamie? They were barely speaking, and Lance had to wonder if it was worth rocking the boat for something that wasn’t even going to happen.

They were driving overnight to get to their next location, and truthfully, Lance couldn’t have even said, if pressed, what state they were in, much less what city their next concert was going to be in. It had all started to blur together long ago, and Lance lay, sprawled over the upper bunk of his bed, sleepless despite the fact that he could hear Ken snoring softly, and Aaron’s heavy breathing.

“Hey. These things aren’t very sturdy,” Jamie’s voice reached Lance’s ears, though only just. The other man was keeping it pitched low so that he didn’t wake up Aaron and Ken, Lance figured. “If you keep tossing and turning like that you might break the bed.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh, though he kept it as quiet as he possibly could.

“Sorry. Can’t sleep,” he admitted, and then, acting pretty much purely on instinct, he hopped down off of the top bunk and onto the floor. He was being too loud, talking so that Jamie could hear him.

His intention was honestly innocent enough. He was just going to sit on the edge of the bed, and simply allow himself to enjoy the feeling of being around this man again. Things were weird between them, but that didn’t actually change how Lance felt about him. Maybe he was desperate, pathetic, but he would take what he could get.

Or so he thought until he actually laid eyes on Jamie, who was sprawled on the bed, utterly delectable, with his hair in a reddish halo of curls around his head, his crystal eyes sparkling with something like amusement at Lance.

More than that, though, this wasn’t just the first time in several weeks that Jamie had really spoken to Lance. It was also the first time he’d truly looked at him like he was looking now. The first time that there was some vulnerability, maybe, in that gaze.

It was pure instinct for Lance to slip into bed with Jamie. Stupid, of course, since Ken and Aaron were so close, and they were supposed to keep this a secret. But he lay beside Jamie on the narrow bunk and had to hope that the curtains which separated their bunks from Aaron and Ken’s bunk would be enough to keep this secret.

“Lance!” Jamie sounded legitimately surprised, the shock clear in his voice, and Lance knew very well that he was being wildly inconsistent. He had, after all, been the one to try to put distance between them, and now, here he was, literally climbing back into bed with Jamie.

“Do you want me to leave,” Lance whispered, gazing at Jamie. It was fairly dark in the bus, the only light coming from the streetlights outside, and the gentle swaying of the bus rocked them from side to side, so that their bodies pressed together again and again.

Only the blankets and the thin layer of their nightclothes kept them apart. That and the restraint that they both felt after so much awkwardness.

“No,” Jamie admitted, and those strong, toned, slender arms came around Lance, pulling him close. Jamie tugged Lance under the blanket with him, wrapping them both up in it, and Lance smiled and let himself cuddle close. “But I thought we weren’t doing this stuff anymore.”

Lance groaned softly, muffling the desperate little sound in Jamie’s shoulder, letting himself just breathe in deeply, letting himself experience that slightly sweet, but musky and masculine, scent again. He had sort of thought that Jamie would never let him do this again, and the relief radiated through him, making his own arms just a little bit too desperate as he clutched Jamie to himself.

“I never said that,” Lance murmured, and then talking, well, it just seemed like too much trouble. Like it could make things worse because all he wanted to do was tell Jamie how much he missed him. But he had no right to do something like that, not when he still couldn’t give himself over completely to the other man.

They were in some sort of weird holding pattern. It probably wasn’t the most healthy thing in the world, but it was definitely better than not having Jamie around at all. He knew that from experience now.

So he forgot about words, which he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, say. Instead, he just pulled Jamie close to him, both of them lying on their sides, and kissed him, putting all of the words that he couldn’t say into that kiss, into the sweet slide of their lips and tongues together.

It was just supposed to be a kiss. Just something brief, to give Lance some comfort so that he could relax enough to go to sleep. But the moment their lips met, he knew very well he was going to need more than just a kiss.

It had been weeks. Far too long. Moaning softly, Lance pushed Jamie’s underwear out of the way, tugging them down just enough. At the same time, Jamie’s fingers were fumbling at the waistband of Lance’s underwear, and in seconds they were pressed right up close to each other, throbbing erections pressed together, hips writhing together.

They kissed over and over, and there were absolutely no words exchanged, very little in the way of sounds, even. Just the frantic grind, grind, grind of their bodies together, their tongues slippery and hot against each other, hands desperate on each other’s hips and asses as they focused entirely on the movements of their bodies, on the heat which they had denied too long.

No one had ever been like this for Lance. No one had ever been able to work him up so much with so little. He’d gone from not even thinking about sex to rutting against Jamie like his life depended on it. And more than that, he could feel from the sparks which seemed to flow between them, from the heat and the tension which coiled together tightly, that it was going to be almost no time until his release exploded through him, and pleasure wiped everything else out of his mind.

The way that Jamie was kissing him, too, it felt like he was probably in the same place. Their bodies strained together, writhed together, leaking hot precome all over each other until Jamie tensed and Lance felt the slick slipperiness of Jamie’s fluids as the man kissed him more frantically than ever.

Lance wasn’t far behind. He hauled Jamie’s body against him, rolling on top of him and pinning him down, straddling his hips as he let himself spill on top of him. His fingers buried in those soft, reddish curls, he kissed him and let those full, sexy lips muffle his cries of pleasure as he came for him.

“See?” Lance murmured when he had recovered enough to speak. He lowered his head, whispering right into Jamie’s ear, “We can keep it a secret. We’re fine.”