mickeym

This is written for

ellemem, for her

fan_the_vote contribution. She requested JC/Lance, and preferred songfic-ish, to Nickelback's 'Figured You Out'.

Hope this suits :)

And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out

When they were young and still unknown – even before Europe – JC and Lance would sometimes slip out of the house at night, after everyone was in bed. They'd walk up and down the streets of their neighborhood, talking about things they wanted to do, the places they wanted to see, their plans for 'someday', when they were known all over the world and had enough money to do anything.

At first it was getting-to-know-you talk.

Later, it was need-to-know-more-about-you talk.

There came a point where they always ended up back in JC's room, Lance whimpering into JC's mouth as he kissed him, his hand down Lance's pants, sweatslick skin hot to the touch.

It was JC's turn to whimper when Lance slid to his knees, pulling at JC's pants and underwear. He was better at giving head than JC, and he was years younger. It made JC dizzy to think about how or why and when and where, until all he could do was wind his fingers through silky, soft hair and hang on, panting out his pleasure when he came.

When they kissed, JC could taste himself, along with Lance.

It made Lance a little less mysterious, but not by much. And JC desperately wanted to unravel the mystery; to know what made Lance…Lance.

~~~~~

"Oh, my god." JC waited for feeling to come back into his body; waited for oxygen to circulate again, then rolled over to look at Lance. "How the hell…did you get so good at that?"

He'd been wanting to ask for a while. Now seemed as good a time as any.

"Gay, kinda fem-lookin' boy in a small town. You do the math." Lance's drawl was slow and sleepy and it made JC inexplicably homesick, listening. He wound his fingers through the short, over-bleached strands of hair and pulled Lance closer, hoping to assuage the feeling.

"So, what, you blew the whole football team or something?"

Lance flashed a grin that was too wide, too bright, completely real. "Not the whole team."

"But pretty damn close, huh?"

"Close enough." That was the end of the discussion then; Lance rolled them over and JC pretended they had all the time in the world, when what they really had was an hour or two, before the lunacy and chaos that defined their lives began again.

One bit of the mystery solved. One more piece of Lance he felt like he knew.

~~~~~

More pieces fell together, more of the mystery solved, the longer the group was together. Lance wasn't shy or timid; that was his assigned role. He wasn't soft-spoken, unless you counted the southern drawl; he was snarky and smart-mouthed, and in spite of Chris and Justin being close likethis, Lance was often Chris' co-conspirator in pranks and gags.

He was smart and fun and sexy and JC inhaled every little bit of information given to him and eagerly waited for more, anxious some days to see what the inner core, the unraveled mystery, would look like.

There were days he honestly thought he knew who Lance was. That he'd figured the mystery out.

~~~~~

Celebrity fucked with their heads. All of them, really, though in JC's mind Chris stayed mostly the same because he could remember Life Before. Joey too, because the Fatones were just pretty grounded, middle-class people.

But it fucked with all of them, to some degree, and it fucked with Justin and Lance the most. The youngest when success came and stayed, they finished their growing up amidst the bright lights of flashbulbs and photoshoots; the faux-intimacy of groupies and one-night stands; the crazy accessibility of drugs and alcohol that turned a good time into a free-for-all.

Their coming-of-age was a lawsuit over money and contracts and the right to their name.

He and Lance were still together, as much as they'd ever been. They still fucked, but it was different now. No more sleepy, soft nights spent together; now it was hard and fast, hurried, with Lance coming—and then going.

Suddenly there was a movie in the works, and a management company, and Lance had a PDA permanently attached to one hand and a cell phone to the other. He looked tired or bored most of the time and when he did smile at JC, it had a sly look to it, or so it seemed.

Lance became a mystery all over again, just when JC thought he'd maybe figured him out.

~~~~~

Lance slept soundly, one arm stretched out, his fingers curled inward. It always made JC think of how vulnerable Lance looked in sleep, compared to when he was awake. The armor wasn't in place.

He opened his eyes just as JC was thinking about settling down next to him, and blinked. "What time is it?"

"Just after midnight." The light cast odd shadows around the room and over Lance's face. Or maybe those weren't from the light.

"Fuck. I need to get going." No more vulnerability; Lance had his armor back in place as he got out of bed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Where could you possibly have to go at midnight? C'mon, stay awhile. It's been ages since you stayed." He hated himself for saying the words the minute they were out of his mouth. Hated himself even more for the cool look Lance gave him.

"We're leaving back on tour in a couple of weeks, and I have things I need to take care of. Besides, it's not midnight in Moscow." Lance pulled his clothes on quickly and sat down to lace his shoes up. "I'm here all the time, C. How can you say it's been ages?"

He was gone with nothing more than a ghost of a kiss before JC could say coming over and fucking wasn't the same as staying.

~~~~~

Lance went to Russia and didn't go into space.

When he came home, post-Russia Lance threw himself into parties and public appearances and not much else. JC started to wonder if there was a 'them' any more. If there'd ever really been a 'them', or if it'd all been in his head. Like thinking he knew Lance.

He had better luck tracking Lance through his media appearances than anything else; once in a while he'd hear from Joey or Chris who said, "so Lance said—" or "Lance did—", but he didn't hear from Lance himself. JC thought that should be indicative of a lot of things.

It was easier, JC found, not to think too much about what he'd had, or what they'd had, or who Lance was. He threw himself into the unexpected solo project and tried to forget that he used to like mysteries.

That he used to like Lance.

~~~~~

Hot night, hot guy. After-party party, post-Challenge; very private, just them and their closest people. After a couple of days of watching Lance drink and flirt and clown around, JC needed a break from him. From the constant tug on his heart, on his thoughts, on everything. He snuck out onto the balcony, beer bottle cool against his neck. Even the breeze was heavy, weighted down by heat and moisture.

Lance sidled up beside him, wrapping his arms around JC's waist. He tried to shrug him off, really he did. Maybe the shrug was more a ripple or shiver. Lance kissed JC's neck and whispered, "c'mon, JC—be just like before. I've missed you."

He nodded, and convinced himself he didn't see Chris' sad smile as they passed by. Or maybe it wasn't sad, or aimed at them – him – and he was just being paranoid. Maybe Chris was happy for them. Him. Maybe someday pigs would fly and geese would oink, too.

When Lance kissed his way down JC's body, pausing to lick and bite and suck before laying him down and fucking him thoroughly, JC thought it was different than before. Lance was more there, more involved. He touched and whispered, voice rough with need and emotion. Not such a mystery after all, maybe. He curled up against JC afterward and smiled, and it made heat wash through JC that had nothing to do with sex, or sunburns, or alcohol.

When Lance slipped out of bed in the early hours of the morning, taking that heat with him, JC knew it was exactly like before, and it always would be. There was no mystery to Lance; JC'd known him all along.

That was, after all, what they knew.

~fin~