Copyright September 8-December 27, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: R

Pairings: Justin Timberlake/Wade Robson

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise *NSYNC are their own people.  The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life.  This writing is a work of fiction.  I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashwriters.

Wherein there's dancing, and swearing, and the award for best dramatic moment goes to...

Notice: MTV Video Music Awards, 2001 (This is my fifth Wadefic.  The boy gets more action than I do.)  I also want it known that I will never forgive Jamie Foxx.

        The PET-MA's are older than "Sweet Uncleanness."  They're my personal version of a merit-based music awards show, like the Grammys.  They take place in whichever country I need them, at whatever time of year I need them.  The Planet Earth Video Television Music Awards are sometimes sponsored by VTV, my version of MTV or VH1.  In "Living," AJ shortens PEVTVMA to PET-MA, which is a lot easier to say.

banner by Vanessa

        "Hey, Boy Wonder, you coming?" Chris asked on his way to the door.

        "Yeah," Wade said, giving himself one last look.  Following Chris out of the bathroom and to the party proper, he kept his image in his mind.

        Tall white boy.  Superfine dancer's body that he didn't show off nearly as much as he could.  Bleached hair, dark eyebrows, brown eyes, soft mouth, scruff of dark chin fuzz, smooth skin.  He didn't have JC's sexual draw, but he had his own power.  Let people underestimate him and overlook him; he'd blow them away.

        It had been a good night.  *NSYNC's performance had brought down the house, with a little help; and Britney had worked it as she always did.

        And the awards.  "Pop" was a winner.  He'd co-written and co-produced the song, created the choreography, stood in the video for Joey - - and *NSYNC walked away clutching moon men.

        "Pop" was a winner.  He should feel like a winner.  The evening had been a success, and he'd had his hands all over it.

        Joey had even freaking dragged him onstage.  Now he knew what it was like to stand up there, in front of everyone, at the podium.  The huge crowd, the blur of attention from lights and cameras, the spotlight...

        Wade's happiness continued to stumble over opening impressions.

        *NSYNC's first acceptance speech, when they'd almost forgotten to thank him and stuck him in at the next-to-last second.  Was he that forgettable?  That easily dismissed?  They wouldn't have that award without him.

        And then, the last second.  Justin's, "I love you."

        It had come so soon after the mention of him that he could almost, almost, almost pretend...

        No.  Those words weren't meant for him.

        He must be a masochist.  Designing sultry, live sex onstage choreography for Britney, then sitting there beside Justin to watch it.

        Justin had been aroused.

        He should've told her to stand still for once.  Maybe put on some clothes, even.

        Wade drifted through the party.  Talked, laughed, hung out, signed a girl's neck just below Joey's autograph.  He kept an eye out for Justin, but their paths never crossed.

        He got a ride with Chris back to the hotel.  After five minutes alone in his room, he felt restless.  He watched TV, but couldn't keep his attention on it.  He took a shower, trying to stay busy to keep from thinking.

        Thinking about something in particular.

        Thinking about Justin saying "I love you" to Britney, and watching her perform and getting hard, and being with her at the after party, and coming back to this very hotel with her.

        He tried to go to sleep.

        He got up and looked out of the window.

        He tried to watch TV again.

        He messed around with the minibar.

        He hadn't danced at the after party.  Not once.  Weird.  Very weird.  He'd even turned down offers.

        Maybe he was cracking up.

        Someone knocked at his door.

        If it was a groupie, he was going for it.

        It was Justin.

        Trying to track down Brit?  Not here, Justin.  Not anymore.  Would they always have that between them?

        Wade opened the door.  "Hey."  He stepped back, kept the door wide, so that Justin could see that he was alone.  Then he noticed the moon man in Justin's hand.  "Justin, you won.  It's okay, you can put it down now."

        Justin laughed.  "No, I - - can I come in for a minute?  You're not sleeping or busy or anything?"

        "No, come in."  Wade closed the door, wondering what Justin wanted.  "You here for business or pleasure?"  Shit, he hadn't meant, he'd meant, for professional or personal reasons.

        "Both, I guess," Justin said, wandering around the room.

        "You get to keep all of the awards, or are you time-sharing?"  Four awards for five guys; maybe they'd be put together in a shrine in Justin's mom's living room.

        "We talked about it, and we each got one," Justin said.  "Joey gets visitation rights to JC's.  This is the one for best dance video."  He had stopped wandering and was standing in the middle of the room, between the foot of the bed and the television.  He looked at Wade.  "I'm giving it to you."

        What?

        "It's yours," Justin said.  "You deserve it."

        "Justin, it's...  No.  No."

        "Wade, yes, yes," Justin said, with a flash of a smile.

        "Give it to Wayne Isham.  It's his video."

        "It's your dance."

        "The award goes to *NSYNC.  I'm not in *NSYNC."

        "Best dance video.  Your dance.  Your song."

        "Our song."

        "Take it or I'll throw it at you," Justin warned, joking.

        "Justin, no.  Why are you wasting time trying to give away your awards?  You should be out there celebrating."

        "Take the cosmonaut, Robson."

        "Shove the cosmonaut, Timberlake."

        "Chris named his.  What do you want to name this one?"

        "He named his?"

        "Alex."

        "Alex?"

        "I got no idea.  What are you naming yours?"

        "I don't have one."

        "Oh, here, take mine."

        "Justin, this is your big night.  You're not spending it in here naming your awards.  Where's Britney?"

        "In her room."

        "Isn't that where you should be?"  Shove Justin into her arms.  He was an adult, and he knew the ropes.  Justin was with Britney, and Wade wasn't going to pretend otherwise.  Forcing himself to deal with the truth was his only way to live with it.

        "How do you think it went tonight?" Justin asked.  "We never got a chance to talk about it."  Justin always liked to get Wade's opinion.  JC did, too.  The other guys listened when he offered, but only Justin and JC solicited it.

        "It was good," Wade said.  "Same things going on as always.  JC's working it hard, Chris is trying too hard and not getting anywhere, same lecture I always give you."

        "What did you think about Britney?"

        "She's been better.  The snake was a mistake, and so was her outfit.  The skirt, the back - - we're not used to obscuring the merchandise like that."  Shit.  He hadn't...shit.  Shouldn't have said that.  Definitely shouldn't have said it like that.

        Justin seemed to be thinking about something else, turning the award in his hands.  "Everybody shows off bodies so much - - almost all of the women, and then they're always putting me and JC in pants so tight you can see anything you want."

        "Sex sells," Wade said.  "You can base a whole career on it.  It worked tonight, didn't it?  You think everybody's remembering Linkin Park screaming, or Britney and her snake?"

        "What about you?" Justin asked.  "You don't dress like that."

        "I'm working, not performing.  Justin, what are you doing here?"

        "Giving you your award."

        "It's your award.  You won it, you keep it.  I'll be winning plenty later, anyway."

        Justin grinned.  "True 'nuff."  He sat on the bed.  "This should be a big celebration night.  What're you doing hiding in your hotel room?"

        "What are you doing hiding in my hotel room?" Wade asked.  "It's not nice to keep your girl waiting."

        "Chris called her Jane of the Jungle."

        Wade tried not to smile.

        "Where are you going to keep this thing?" Justin asked, looking at the moon man.

        "At your place," Wade said.

        "Wade, it's yours," Justin said.  "It's yours, you deserve it, you own it, you're keeping it.  Take it."

        "I'm not taking it."

        "It's not nice to refuse gifts."

        "It's not nice to shove your award on someone who doesn't have one."

        Justin looked taken aback.  He stood, coming forward.  "I'm not.  I'm...  I want you to have it."

        "If you're so hellbent on giving it away, give it to Wayne; it's his video.  Give it to Johnny, give it to your mother.  Give it to Britney, she doesn't have any."

        "Can we stop talking about her for five minutes?" Justin asked.

        "You're supposed to be with her, celebrating your victory, having some quality time before the tour kicks on again, and you keep changing the subject-"

        "We're breaking up."

        No.

        "Take the freaking moon man," Justin said, shoving it at Wade and heading for the door.

        In an unpremeditated move, Wade reached without looking and grabbed at Justin's arm, pulling him back.  "What happened?"  They couldn't break up.  Justin loved Britney, and Britney needed Justin.

        "Nothing," Justin said.  "I can't explain it, and that makes it harder.  You can't break up with somebody without telling her why.  I tried it, tonight, but she's not taking it."

        "You're dumping Britney?"  Guilt.  That was one word for what Wade was feeling.  Guilt.  Lots of guilt.

        "It's not because of..."  They didn't have to name it.  They never had.  "It is, but...  It's not your fault."

        The mere fact that Justin had to say "It's not your fault" only made Wade feel more guilt.  "You guys are..."

        "We look good together," Justin said.

        "Yes."  It was the truth.  "Justin, you know each other, you have fun together, I know you want her, you sure weren't hiding it tonight-"

        "What?"

        "When she was performing.  I was right beside you, you were getting hot."

        "You could tell?"  Justin was embarrassed.  Make that mortified.

        "You suck at hiding things," Wade said.

        "It wasn't about her," Justin said.  "I was thinking about something else."

        "Your beautiful, sexy girlfriend is onstage baring it all, and you're thinking about something else?"

        "Someone else," Justin said.  "Don't tell her, swear you won't tell her, she'd kill me."

        "If you're breaking up with her, what does it matter?"

        "It's insulting."

        Only Justin would dump someone but still want to be nice to her.  "You're thinking about someone else?  Who is it?"  It couldn't be a girl on the side.  Justin wouldn't cheat.  Maybe that was why he was breaking up with Britney, because he felt unfaithful.  Because he wanted someone else.  "She must be something if you're ignoring Britney's show to get hot over her."

        "I wasn't ignoring...  I was sort of picturing somebody else up there."

        "Justin, wait a second.  Just tonight, on an internationally televised awards program, you told Britney that you love her.  Now you're breaking up with her?"

        "I wasn't talking to her," Justin said.

        "Who is this girl?  Who's worth dumping Britney for?  Justin, I know she's hurt you, but you've got it made."

        "Chris, JC, Joey, and Lance all have told me that I deserve to be with someone who will stay faithful to me.  If they all say that, then I believe them."

        "Justin-"

        "I'm not faithful to her, either.  Not in my heart."

        "You're fucking with a good thing."

        "You fucked my good thing," Justin said.  "But she's on her way to being single again, so you won't have to hide it anymore."

        Wade threw the award at Justin, who caught it to keep it from breaking.  "Get out."

        "I don't love her the way I'm supposed to," Justin said.  "I want to be a boyfriend, not a career enhancer."

        "You think you're going to get it any better than you have it now?"

        "Our relationship is a lie.  I'm sick of it."

        "A lie?  What lie?"

        "I'm in love with somebody else!" Justin shouted.  "Are you listening?!"

        "Who?"

        "You!"  Justin threw the award at him; he caught it automatically, stunned.  "You freak my girlfriend and I get jealous, yeah, I get jealous of her for being with you.  I got turned on tonight, seeing her onstage, thinking about you up there, you doing the moves, what you might wear.  You were sitting right there, and I could almost smell your cologne, and I wanted to look over at you, but I couldn't, I was supposed to be watching Britney.  I want to watch you."

        Wade was in a very strange world.  He was afraid to move.  He didn't want anything confirmed or denied.

        "I almost asked her what it was like."

        Very bad idea, Justin.

        "You must have been good, since she went back for more," Justin said.  "How many times did you get together?  Three?  Four?  Ten?  I had so many questions for her...  'Was he good?  Does he kiss better than I do?  Does he fuck as well as he dances?'"

        Justin...

        "That's not why I want you to have the award.  You deserve it.  That's business, that's professional, it's yours.  I told the guys I was going to give it to you, and they're with me.  Chris said we should try to get more and give them out as party favors."

        "You'll get more," Wade said.  He looked down at it.  "If I'm so deserving of this award, why did you forget to thank me at the podium?"

        "I didn't forget," Justin said.  "It's...  The guys know.  How I feel."  Oh, shit.  "They wanted me to thank you, and they weren't going to start it themselves.  And I put it off because I didn't know what I was going to say.  I didn't want to blurt out something and out myself on MTV."

        "So you compensated by sending Britney your love."

        "That wasn't for her.  That was for you.  In here, from here," Justin said, one hand over his heart, "it was yours."

        Wade didn't know what to say.  He wanted to deny it.  It wasn't true.  It couldn't be true.  He'd had any number of fantasies about Justin, but never this...

        Justin was quiet, half-turned from him.

        Wade went on the offensive.  "You're with Britney.  What more do you want?"

        "I want you!  I am not with Britney.  I don't want to be with her, not now, not anymore.  She's my friend and we have good times, but I don't love her like I love you."

        "You don't love me.  We're friends.  I slept with your girlfriend."

        "If you slept with my girlfriend and we're still friends, it can't be that much of a stretch for me to love you, too."

        "You're straight."

        "I'm bi."

        "I'm straight."

        "I know."

        What?

        "I'm in love, not stupid.  You're straight and you're screwing my girlfriend - - ex-girlfriend.  But if we've been friends until now, I figure you won't stop being my friend just because I want you."

        "This isn't a soap opera.  Wanting and loving are not the same thing."

        "I know the difference.  I love you.  It's just easier to focus on wanting you, because it hurts less."

        "I can't take this," Wade said, offering the award.

        "It's yours."

        "You should stay with Britney."

        "I can't."

        "It's working the way things are."

        "Not for me."

        "You told the guys?"

        "Yeah.  JC's for it, Lance is against it, Joey doesn't want to hear about it, and Chris doesn't care."

        "That sounds about right."

        "I know that I should be happy," Justin said.  "She's pretty, she's smart, she's sexy, she's talented.  We do look good together.  We're friends, she's great."

        "Stay with her."

        "I'm throwing her away for you, and I can't even have you," Justin said.

        Lately, he'd been getting a different vibe.  Like maybe Chris was going to be okay with him now.  Like for some reason, Chris was willing to accept him.

        He figured Justin's break with Britney had something to do with it.  Also, there was that whole "the guys know how I feel" deal.  Shit, did Justin have to tell them everything?  Okay, yes, he knew that Justin did tell them everything.  That was a given.  But did Justin have to tell them that?

        He didn't want them to know.

        He didn't even want to know, himself.

        He could try to talk his way out of it, rationalize it, explain it away.  Except.  There was no way that Justin would leave Britney, especially in that way, if it weren't true.

        Which meant that Justin wanted him.

        Which was news to Wade.

        Not welcome news, either.

        Justin pressed his hands flat against his chest.  "My breasts are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with mountains."

        Joey cupped his groin with one hand.  "My balls are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with grapefruit."

        From the look of things, Wade had made his entrance at the wrong time.  "You guys busy?  I can come back later."

        "Just the man we need!"  Justin pulled him into the room.

        "For what?"  Wade winced at Chris's butchered movements.  "It doesn't look like anybody can help you now."

        "That's what we're talking about," Justin said.  "Show us how to belly dance."

        Show them how to what?  Wade looked around the room.  Chris had fallen still and was waiting for instruction.  Joey, like Justin, was waiting expectantly.  He didn't dare ask why.  "Where are Lance and JC?" he asked, hoping to distract their attention.

        No one bothered to answer that question.  "You don't have to perfect our technique," Joey said, sticking to the point.  "Just show us how it's done."

        "Come on, everybody does it," Chris said.

        "All the cool kids are into it," Justin agreed.

        "Try it, this one time," Chris said.

        "It's not habit-forming," Justin said.

        "It'll make you feel good."

        "Belly-dancing is traditionally a women's dance," Wade said.

        "And?" Justin asked.

        "So?" Chris asked.

        "I'm not a woman," Wade said.

        "I don't know," Chris said.  "Your breasts are kind of small and humble, like Shakira's."

        "His balls are kind of sm-"

        Wade smacked Joey's shoulder, ignoring Justin's laughter.  "I don't have the right physical form.  Belly dancing emphasizes-"

        "Yeah, I don't think you're dressed right," Chris said.

        "He's not?" Joey asked.

        "You have to be able to watch his hips," Chris said.  "He's got all of those baggy layers.  Come on, take 'em off."

        "You want him to strip?" Joey asked.

        "Guys," Justin said.

        "I don't get paid that much," Wade said.

        "Is it because of the balls thing?" Chris said.  "You know he's kidding.  You have huge balls."

        "Huge," Joey agreed.

        "Can you shut up?" Justin asked them.

        "Huge," Chris repeated.  "With custom-made underwear just to accomodate them."

        "You've never seen him naked," Justin said.  "How would you know?"

        "For 'Pop,'" Chris said.  "When he wore Joey's clothes.  He had the pants all stretched out in the crotch."

        "You've never seen him naked?" Joey asked.  "I can't even count the times I've-"

        "Liar!" Chris yelled, pointing at Joey.  "Liar!  He promised he'd never let anyone but me-"

        "You!" Joey said.

        "Tell him, Wade," Chris said.  "Tell Joey the truth about our torrid affair."

        "It's true," Wade said, turning to Joey.  He shrugged.  "Chris gives good head."

        Joey burst into laughter.  Chris hit Wade and sat, wounded.

        "Look, I don't have the best physical qualifications, but I can belly dance," Wade said.

        They applauded in advance, eager, drawing their chairs closer.

        Wade sighed and relented.  "You have some music?"

        "Got it!" Chris said, reaching for the stereo.

        Wade considered...  It was true that he'd give a much better demonstration if they could watch his hips and abs.  It would help if he lost a layer of clothes or two.

        Chris started the song.

        Wade ditched his sneakers, shed his jacket.  He pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving himself in a tank top.

        Joey whistled.

        "You have secret cameras taping this?"

        Chris started the song over.  "No.  Now, dance, boy, dance!"

        Wade peeled out of his tank top, exposing his long torso.  He tugged at his pants until they were riding too low on his hips.

        Then he began to dance.

        The rhythm.  The grace.  Wade didn't have an hourglass figure, womanly hips, or even a pierced navel, but he knew how to flex and roll with the best.

        Chris had stopped singing along.

        Joey made an appreciative sound.

        Justin was staring, mouth open.  Either Wade was the most fascinating sight Justin had come across in two decades, or aliens had replaced Justin's brain with butterscotch pudding.

        Shakira stopped.  Wade stopped.

        "Damn!" Joey said.  "Way to shake your ass!"

        "Ah, I could do that," Chris said, quickly recovering his wits.

        Wade pulled his clothes on again.  "Just don't do it in front of me."

        "The poor boy is afraid I'll show him up," Chris said.  "I understand your fear, young one.  Joey, we almost forgot.  It's time to go."

        Joey checked his watch, looking confused.

        "Justin, we'll be back soon - - but not too soon.  Wade, thanks for the striptease.  Joey, come on!"  Chris kept up a steady stream of babble as he hustled Joey from the room.

        "What are they late for?" Wade asked.

        "I don't know."  Justin's voice was soft.  Vulnerable.  His eyes were young, hungry.  He was trying to play it off, trying to pass for normal.  Two guys hanging out.  Two friends.  Nothing different.

        "Was he good?  Does he kiss better than I do?  Does he fuck as well as he dances?"

        Wade shifted.  He had the distinct suspicion that Chris had dragged Joey out so that he would have some time alone with Justin.  That was a sign that Chris was on Justin's side.  Wade didn't want anyone to be on Justin's side.  If the rest of *NSYNC not only knew about Justin's...interest in him, but supported that interest, then they must approve of the idea.  They must be okay with it.

        Every barrier Wade had firmly in place, Justin was dismantling.

        "You're flying out tonight?" Justin asked.

        "Yeah.  I guess I'll be back whenever."

        Justin nodded.

        Wade licked his lips.  He didn't want it to sound like he was bailing.  He was leaving because he had a job, a career.  Justin knew that.  Why was he worried?  "I'll definitely see you for the PET-MA's."  Of course he would.  He was choreographing *NSYNC's performance for the awards show.  But that was a long way off.  It sounded like he was suggesting that he was taking off, planning to return only in his official capacity, not as a friend.  Like he would choreograph, continue to produce, keep it professional, but not hang out, not anymore.

        He didn't want to give the impression that Justin's declaration of interest was scaring him off.  It wasn't.  He and Justin were friends, very good friends.  They had a lot in common, a lot to share.  And when they were together, working, their creative energy was amazing.  They sparked the genius in each other.

        He was comfortable with wanting Justin.  The dancing life led to sexual attraction by nature.  Dancing, twisting and gliding and thrusting, physical movement, it was all body-based work.  Dancers were very aware of their bodies, and aware of each other's bodies.  They worked long hours in close proximity, sweating and sharing physical, sexual, primal experiences.  Wade was used to sublimating his desires, because sexual attraction arose often in dancing circles.  He was familiar with recognizing and suppressing sexual interest in his dancing partners, even his pupils.

        With Britney, he had acted on the attraction.

        He would not make that mistake with Justin.

        Wade headed for the door, saying good-bye.  Justin trailed him with a lingering gaze, a subdued voice.

        Justin didn't want him to go.

        He didn't want to go.  He wanted to stay.  But he wasn't leaving for personal reasons.  He had a job to do.  He had responsibilities.  He was a busy man.  Damned busy.  He'd visited *NSYNC too long as it was.

        He wouldn't stay, couldn't stay.  Staying didn't cross his mind, not as a feasible option.  And he knew that Justin wouldn't ask him to stay.  Justin understood his life, its demands.  The demands that he put on himself.

        "Come back before the PET-MA's," Justin said.

        "Yeah, I'll try," Wade said.

        "It was good to see you," Justin said, and shook his hand.  Pulled him in, did a lean-in shoulder hug.

        Wade patted Justin's back and stepped away from him.  "Tell the guys I said bye."

        Justin nodded.  "I will."

        Wade hesitated.

        "Safe flight," Justin said.  "Don't choke on the complimentary snack."

        Wade grinned.  "Bye."

        Justin missed him.

        Justin wasn't dramatic, wasn't melancholy, didn't say, "Hey, I miss you."  He was even trying to keep his distance.  Wade could feel it.  Justin called for no reason, had nothing to say, but would leave rushed messages packed with enthusiasm.  He sounded like someone abruptly returned to a long-lost confidante.  He wanted to share everything with Wade, and couldn't.

        Wade decided to drop by for a day.  He had every right to visit the tour.  He even had the right to stop by unannounced, uninvited.

        So he did.

        After the show, he hitched a ride back to the guys's hotel.  JC and Lance would be busy.  Joey would be out.  Chris and Justin?

        Wade asked around and got Justin's room number.  He headed down that hallway.

        Justin was in mid-stride, mid-conversation, when he saw Wade.  He stared, as though unsure of what he saw, then lit up like a Christmas tree.  He gave Wade a quick hug, then kept a hand on Wade's arm.  "What are you doing here?"

        "I have a day free, thought I'd see how it's going.  Great show."

        "Yeah?  You saw it?  Thanks.  Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

        "Spur of the moment.  You going out tonight?"

        "No, no.  Can you hang out here for a while?"

        "Yeah, sure.  I was just coming up to say hi."

        Wade and Justin sat up talking for a few hours.  Wade would have been happy to keep talking past sunrise, but he knew that Justin needed rest.  After some argument, Justin went to bed.  The bed was large enough to fit all of *NSYNC, so Wade slept with Justin instead of on the couch.  He slept outside the covers, with that protective layer a barrier between their bodies.  He didn't trust himself to share a bed too comfortably.  Not with Justin.

        He wanted Justin.  Justin was asleep, beautiful, vulnerable.  Very much a boy but very much a man.  They had a great deal in common, both on the surface and deep inside.

        Justin rolled over in bed.  Wade was glad that he wasn't snoring much.  What was he dreaming?

        Wade closed his eyes and tried to picture Justin's dreams.  Did Justin ever dream about him?  What kinds of dreams might those be?  Boring dreams?  Nonsensical dreams?  Sexual dreams?

        Sex dreams.  He had sex dreams about Justin sometimes.  Not as often as he'd like.

        He tried to make himself have a sex dream about Justin, tried to project it into Justin's dreams.  The two of them in a bed, and he was getting Justin naked, and they were kissing and grinding and...  Wade opened his eyes to check on Justin, just in case it was working and Justin was sharing his dream.

        Justin was looking at him.  Watching in the darkness.

        Wade felt guilty, ashamed, as though Justin could read his thoughts.  But of course Justin couldn't know what he'd been thinking, what he fantasized.

        "Lance told me you're bi," Justin said.

        How could Lance know?  Wade wasn't mad at Lance; he was too busy wondering what Justin would say next.

        "Are you bi?" Justin asked.

        He didn't answer.  He didn't want to lie and say no, but if he told the truth and said yes, he'd lose one major defense.  And he was running out of defenses.

        "I keep thinking about the last time I saw you dance."

        Belly dancing.  Half-naked, private performance.

        "I'd never thought that a man could do that.  That you could move that way, and make it look so right..."

        Justin's voice was too low.  Wade braced himself.

        Justin was leaning in.  Too close.  Wade couldn't think of what to say.  He felt Justin's lips brush against his.  "Say yes," Justin whispered, "tell me yes."  Justin's hand was on his back, pulling up his shirt.

        Wade was afraid to move.  Afraid of pulling away.  Afraid of moving closer.  Afraid of refusing Justin, afraid of encouraging Justin.  He didn't know what to do.  Paralyzed by fear and indecision, Wade held his breath and waited for Justin's next move.

        "You always smell so good," Justin whispered.

        At least now he knew that his deodorant worked.

        "JC said that he knew he had it bad for Lance when he developed a thing for the way Lance smelled.  He made excuses to visit Lance's bunk just so he could sniff Lance's sheets for a second.  Chris started to make jokes about how stinky Lance is, but I understood.  You've always smelled so good to me."

        Wade worried about JC's mental health.

        Justin's hand was beneath Wade's shirt, massaging the small of his back.  Slow, meditative.  "I tried not to love you.  I even knew that I shouldn't.  We shouldn't even be friends."

        He'd had sex with Justin's girlfriend.  That should have shattered their friendship, soured their affection.  But they'd remained friends.  They'd continued to work together, to create together.

        "You betrayed me, and you're my friend.  I'm in love with you, and I'm your friend.  You've done too much to me.  I want too much from you."

        Wade found his voice.  "Is this a monologue, therapy, or seduction?"

        "Every relationship, every girlfriend, they all hurt me.  You've already hurt me, I know that I shouldn't trust you, and you're the one I'm in love with.  Is my brain so screwed over that I'm falling for the one person who's already hurt me so badly no new betrayal can-"

        "You're not that fucked up."

        "I love you, too, angel face."

        Wade pinched Justin; Justin squealed and wriggled, startled.  When Wade laughed, Justin pinched him in return.  Wade pushed.  Justin shoved.  Wade tickled.  Justin squirmed and smacked.

        "You're an asshole."

        "You're a baby."

        "I'm older."

        "You can't even buy beer."

        "You suck."

        "You suck Joey."

        "Yeah, and I bet you're jealous, too."

        Wade laughed.

        Justin ran his fingers through Wade's hair, toyed with a few bleached strands.

        Wade removed a barrier of his own volition.  He didn't do it as a prelude to weakening his position, but rather to exert some small measure of control over the situation.  If a barrier came down, at least he could decide how and when.  "I'm bisexual."

        Justin stroked his scalp with gentle fingers.

        Wade realized how tense he was, and consciously relaxed.  As his fingers uncurled, they came to rest against the soft cotton of Justin's shirt, and Justin's warm body beneath it.  He lowered his gaze to his hand, and to Justin's chest.

        "Have you been with guys?"

        Wade wiggled his toes for something to do.  "No."  For reasons of his own, he'd maintained a strictly heterosexual life.  He didn't need anyone speculating.  Until tonight, he'd never told anyone that he was bi.

        "Not at all?"

        "There was this one time when this older bald guy kissed me."

        Justin's fingers stopped moving in Wade's hair.  Wade felt him growing tense.  Justin really did not like the idea of Wade with another man.

        "He was a singer in some pop group, and he tried to seduce me, talking about how good I smelled, rambling on about-"

        Justin smacked Wade in the back of the head.

        Wade's teasing turned to laughter.

        "I'm not bald."

        "You don't have hair."

        "I have peach fuzz."

        "You're bald."

        "You have no right to criticize anyone else's hair-care decisions."

        "You like my hair."

        Justin sighed softly, running his fingers through Wade's soft spikes again.  "I know."

        Wade rolled his eyes.  Justin always had liked his hair.  Of course, until recently, he hadn't realized that Justin intended to pet his hair.  He'd imagined that it was more of a macho, hey, cool 'do, kind of passing respect.

        Justin's caress grazed Wade's forehead, his temple.  "You have beautiful eyes."

        "They're brown."

        "Shut up and let me admire you."

        "Are you trying to seduce me?"

        "No.  I'm indulging myself and letting myself love you before you take off again."

        "I didn't take off."

        "You have beautiful eyes."

        "You already said that."

        "Your eyes, your eyebrows, they're so dark, they capture-"

        "Can you go back to sleep?"

        "-attention, they make such a contrast..."  Justin's thumb smoothed one eyebrow.  "And your mouth is so soft..."

        Wade sighed, sounding impatient and disgusted.

        "God, I want you," Justin said, and for a moment Wade heard, felt, every ounce of Justin's longing, desire, need.  Then Justin sighed, a soft and resigned sound, and his hand stilled on the back of Wade's neck.

        Justin held him, and he had the distinct impression that Justin was smelling him.

        He spent two days with the first act, almost nonstop.  On the third day, he left that performance in the hands of a capable assistant and went to work with *NSYNC.

        The guys were excited about the show, but tired from their tour.  Being touchy-feely, and having some inexplicable affection for him, they greeted him warmly.

        It was almost easier to work with people who weren't his friends, because sometimes he had to push and push and play Drill Sergeant Robson.  He didn't like seeing them tired, seeing them exhausted, and then making them work harder and faster.  But it was his job.  And they wouldn't respect him if he let them do less than their best.  He wouldn't respect himself, either.

        He laid out the plans, then went through the routine to show them what he'd conceived.  As he danced, he caught them in the mirror.  Chris and Justin were whispering and bickering.

        Wade stopped dancing and turned to face them.

        Chris and Justin smacked each other, to shut each other up, and tried to look innocent.

        Wade started over.

        Chris and Justin fussed at each other again.

        Joey hit them to make them be quiet.  JC was laughing.

        Wade motioned to Lance to stop the music again.  "Mr. Kirkpatrick, would you care to share the joke with the rest of the class?"

        "No, thank you, Mr. Robson," Chris said in a polite schoolboy voice.

        "Then shut up and pay attention."

        "Yes, sir, Mr. Robson."  To Justin, he said, "See, I told you he was into dom-sub."

        "I guess you recognize it, having experience," Justin said.

        "Just because I like to be spanked-"

        "Hey, I like to be spanked," Justin said, and cast Wade a sultry look from beneath his dark lashes.  "I like it when Wade spanks me."

        "I knew you two were into kink," Chris said.

        "Wade's my leather daddy," Justin said.

        "That explains the sounds coming from your bunk," Joey said.

        "You think you know, but you have no idea," Justin said.

        Wade walked over to them and snapped his fingers in Justin's face, pointing right between Justin's eyes.  "Be quiet and stand still."

        "Yes, sir."  Justin gave him wide puppy-dog eyes and sexy pouted lips, a dangerous combination.

        "Don't make me have to tie you up," Wade said.

        Chris pretended to wipe drool from his chin.

        Wade moved to return to his place before the mirrored wall, and someone smacked his butt.  He pivoted in time to see four people point at Justin, who gave the ceiling an innocent look.  Wade reached around, smacked Justin's ass, and went back to work.

        When he walked into the studio where he'd worked with *NSYNC yesterday, the lights were on, as was the stereo.  Shakira.  "Whenever, Wherever."  He stretched, beginning to limber up.  Then he did a self-mocking three-second belly dance.  Chuckling at himself, he did a few more moves, then went into his regular warm-up routine.

        Just as the song ended, it began again.

        He didn't like it that much.  Wade went over and fiddled with the stereo, finding better music.

        What were the odds that someone would come in, turn on the lights and stereo, put that particular song on repeat, and then leave?

        An innocent practical joke?

        Wade warmed up, stretching and getting into the rhythm of his own body.  Grace, coordination, and self-confidence were a few of his hallmarks.

        He had that song stuck in his head.

        He went through the choreography he'd worked out for *NSYNC's PET-MA performance.

        He had that song stuck in his head.

        The guys weren't due for another fifteen minutes.

        Wade put Shakira on again, and stepped into place.  He had the wrong shape and the wrong center of gravity, but he went for it anyway.  After a moment, he stripped out of his shirts and tugged down his pants, the better to watch himself in the mirror.  If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right.

        Not bad.  He put the song on repeat and tried it again.

        Justin came into the room.

        Wade pulled his pants up higher.

        Justin shook his ass.  "Hey."

        "Morning."  Wade reached for a shirt.

        Justin was closer and quicker, snatching it from Wade's grasp.  "Keep dancing."

        Wade did some quick tap steps.

        "They're all late, they won't be here for a couple more minutes.  Come on, I'm the only one looking."

        Wade went for some ballet.

        "I'll pay you."

        "Funny, I wasn't feeling cheap a minute ago..."

        Justin laughed.

        Wade lowered his pants just a bit, not as much as before but enough to give Justin easier viewing of his hips.  He adjusted his stance, closed his eyes, and let the rhythm move him.  When the song repeated, he kept going.  Having just watched himself in the mirror, he knew his weak areas, so this dance was better than the other time he'd done this for Justin.

        When the song ended again, he opened his eyes, coming out of the dance.  Only after he'd turned off the music did he look to Justin.

        "You should keep performing," Justin said.  "You need to go back to it.  Choreographing, writing, producing, you're amazing, but when I think of you onstage..."

        "I've been there.  I'm exploring a different part of me now," Wade said.

        "I know, and I respect that.  It seems, it just doesn't seem right that you aren't onstage, showing it to the world.  Dancing and sharing with everyone what I just saw."

        "Me twitching my hips?"

        "You have incredible, amazing talent."

        "I know."

        Justin laughed.

        "When we're finished today, if you're still speaking to me once I've run you ragged, you want to hang out?"

        "Yeah," Justin said.  "Absolutely."

        He was sitting with *NSYNC.  Between Justin and Chris, to be exact.  Whenever the guys won an award, Justin hugged him before hitting the podium.  Chris smacked his ass, but it was Chris, so he let it go.

        In the middle of someone else's performance, when all eyes and all cameras were on the stage, Justin leaned in, practically nuzzling him, and whispered, "You smell good."  Justin's attention lingered on him, and he did his best to pretend that he was unaffected.  When Justin sat back and looked at the stage again, Wade carefully let out his breath.

        Wade went with *NSYNC to an after party.  It was a pretty good one, but half his attention was on Justin all night.  And half of Justin's attention was on him.  They stayed side-by-side for most of the party; and whenever they were separated by choice or by circumstance, their eyes met across the room.

        They went back to Justin's hotel room together.

        Sitting on the floor, Justin asked, "Where are you going tomorrow?"

        Wade shrugged.  "I don't have anywhere to be until the twenty-ninth.  I thought I'd hang out with the tour for a while."  He played it well: casual, nonchalant, meeting Justin's eyes.

        "Now that we're an award-winning group."

        "I figure it can't hurt my rep to be seen with you."

        Justin chuckled and relaxed.

        "It might get crowded on the bus."

        "It's the bus," Justin said, as if that explained something.  For Justin, the bus was probably a whole way of life.

        "Wish I could have my own bunk."

        "You could use JC's.  He won't mind sharing with Lance."

        "Thought maybe I could share yours."

        Justin looked at him, trying to decide whether to laugh it off.

        "You looked good onstage tonight."

        "Thanks."

        Wade put his hand on Justin's, stroked up Justin's forearm and down again.

        Justin shivered.

        "Am I good?  Yes."

        Justin was trying to understand, wanting to be sure, afraid.

        "Do I kiss better than you do?  We'll have to see."

        Justin's lips parted.

        "Do I fuck as well as I dance?"

        Justin waited, breathless, for Wade's answer.

        Wade kissed Justin's mouth.  Justin was too surprised to respond, but his lips were soft, and he wanted more.  Wade saw the startled hunger in his eyes.

        Justin kissed Wade.  A little faster, flicker of tongue, testing and anticipating.

        Wade forgot what he'd been talking about.

        Another kiss.  Longer, deeper.  There was no interest in talking, now; their mouths had better things to do.

        Did he kiss better than Justin did?  That was under debate.

        Did he fuck as well as he danced?  Dear God, he was better.