Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2000 18:53:18 EDT
From: NCC1701DS9@aol.com
Subject: Every Little Thing I Do 11

	Surprise surprise!  It didn't take until Thanksgiving for this
chapter!  Well, I guess having a three-day weekend helps.  Lots of extra
time to write well into the morning.  :-) Anyway, I'm going to keep this
header short, maybe.  As a side note, me getting this out in a week is
probably a fluke.  School's coming down even harder now, and I quit writing
at about 2:30 on many a night cuz I just was so damn TIRED!  So the next
chapter...Thanksgiving.  Not a guarantee...if you're lucky, it'll be out
sooner, like this one!  But as a reminder, I'm a STUDENT first, a PERFORMER
second, a SLEEP-DEPRIVED person third, and a WRITER fourth.  So, yes.
There we go.  Much love and thanks go out to my friends who keep in
touch...Ken, Jake, Ryan, Kris.  Special thanks to Michael McCall, author of
"Lance and Michael," and Jeff, author of "Twist of Fate" (JLS!)  And to
you, Rob...you know what you've done for me.  Nothing
special...just...THANKS.  I love you, and you, and you and you you you and
you!  All of you!  Thanks for reading!
	OK, and here are the boring, various disclaimers.  This is a
FICTIONAL story involving the band NSync, specifically member Lance Bass.
I do not know NSync in any way, shape, or fashion with the exception of
what I can get off of fan pages, their official site, various interviews,
and the like.  I do not know the sexual orientations of any members,
although a guy can dream, can't he? :-) I do not claim to know the
personalities of any member of NSync either, and all reactions are the
product of one deranged author.
	If you're part of NSync, please e-mail me!  If you're not, e-mail
me anyway!
	Iff (test your math/science terminology here!) you are offended by
homosexual relationships, or are under 18 or the legal age in your area, or
your local laws/customs do not permit the reading of such material, then
don't continue. I'm not one for writing porn stories, so don't expect pure
sex.  This is (hopefully!) a real story with emotions beyond passion.  If
those rules apply to you, then don't get caught reading this if you do
decided to go on and read it.


Previously in "Every Little Thing I Do"...

	"Looks like we're here, and we've got a crowd."  He pointed out the
window.  I stretched across Lance's lap to look out the other side.  A
billion screaming girls were standing behind NYPD sawhorses, waving signs.
I had seen this scene before - on TRL, safely from 100 miles away, in my
own home.  Now I was in the middle of it.  I took several deep breaths,
trying to calm my nerves.  I was all worked up, and I knew that I would
break out in a sweat soon.  I kept telling myself that it would be alright,
that I wouldn't have to say anything.  Lance will take care of me, I
thought.  Lance'll take care of me.


Every Little Thing I Do
	Chapter 11
	By Mahka

	"Oh God, are we going to have to sign autographs?" whined Chris.
	Justin grabbed his cell phone and talked directly into it.  I
realized that I had never gotten my own little care package from Evan, even
though I had read the guidelines and agreed to them.
	"N1 to J, over."
	A pause, then some static.  "J here."
	"Johnny, we were wondering how we were going to get into the studio
with all these people here."
	"We're gonna have to brave the crowds.  NYPD's got a section
blocked off.  Just do a little waving and smiling, but look like you're in
a hurry, and get inside ASAP.  We've got five minutes, and we haven't done
make up yet."
	"Alright.  N1 out."
	Justin put his phone back in his pocket.  "Well, you heard the man.
Let's get going."
	At that moment the limo pulled up next to a break in the crowds.
Police surrounded the area, and we could see a clear path directly into the
studios.  1515 was prominent above the doors.  Cool, I finally get to see
the MTv studios!  This was exciting.  And terrifying at the same time.
	Lance popped the door open, and we hustled out of the limo, moving
briskly towards the door.  The screaming was intense, high-pitched, and
painful.  The guys smiled and waved, but kept moving.  Arms reached out
over the lines, trying to touch them.  I followed Lance, scared to death
and not knowing what to do.
	We entered the building, where an important-looking woman stood,
holding a clip board and wearing headphones, similar to the ones used by
the crew at the shows.
	"We're gonna have to delay the conference slightly.  Get up to the
TRL dressing rooms for make-up.  The press is already here," she said,
pointing us toward a bank of elevators.  "Go!" she added when we didn't
move right away.
	We entered the elevators and rode it up to the second floor.
	"Sheesh, what a bitch!" commented Justin.
	"Go!" mocked Chris.
	"C'mon guys, we're late already.  Let's just get this over with,"
said JC with a sigh.  My sentiments exactly.
	The guys knew their way around the studios, and we were soon
getting foundation and blush powdered onto our faces.  There were only
three make-up artists, so I quickly signed the agreement as Joey, Justin,
and Chris were prepared.  These people were quick.  By the time I had
finished signing the 15 lines, they were done.  It took them a little
longer to work on me, since they didn't have the foundation pre-matched.
Apparently they record what foundation was used on which person.  Still,
five minutes later I was done.  We were told that Mel, Johnny, and Evan
were ready as well, and that we were to meet them by door four, wherever
that was.
	My heart continued to race, and my hands started to sweat, as they
always do when I get nervous.  I could feel the paper of the agreement
soften under the sweat.  Euw, yuck.  Turn, turn, turn, forward, turn...I
followed the veterans through a maze of corridors.  Door four suddenly
loomed ahead.  I saw that the red light next to the door was on, indicating
a show in progress.  A sign on the door said "NSYNC PRESS."  Odd, what was
being taped?  We weren't even inside yet!
	The three people from management stood right there, flipping
through papers.
	"You guys ready?" asked Evan.  He sounded stressed and high-strung,
like his tie was too tight.  He reached up and adjusted the knot slightly,
loosening it.  OK, so it was too tight.
	There was a quiet chorus of affirmative noises, and Mel opened the
door.
	The lights were bright, but not blinding like they were on tour.  A
raised stage stood in the middle of the room, which I recognized as the
room that TRL was taped in.  The shades were drawn, and behind the stage
was a large backdrop screen with "MTv News" scrawled all over it in small
logos.  A podium stood in the middle, with at least ten microphones
sticking out of the holder.  Was it news THAT important?  Someone had to
feed the gossip papers, I figured.
	Mel walked up to the stage, Evan following.  The rest of the guys
trooped obediently on to the stage and stood behind her.  Johnny stood next
to me, surveying the crowd.  Cameras clicked, flashes flashed, and the
video cameras rolled, their little red lights blinking.
	"Good afternoon.  On behalf of Nsync and Wright Entertainment
Group, I'd like to thank you for coming to this meeting.  We're here to
clear up any questions about last night's incident here in New York."  Mel
flipped a page in the packet she carried.  She cleared her throat and
continued.
	"Last night, members Lance Bass and Justin Timberlake were shopping
on 5th Avenue.  They took Mark Bechent, the son of one of our crew members,
with them.  Mr. Bass was crossing the road when a car being pursued by the
police came around the corner.  With little time to react, Mr. Bechent
managed to push Mr.  Bass out of the way.  He was struck on the ankle, but
suffered only minor injuries.  Mr. Bass suffered only minor scrapes.  The
two were taken to St.  Mary's hospital, where they were treated and
released.  The shows scheduled here in New York are unaffected and will
continue as planned."  Mel took a breath, gazing into the crowd.  Lance
shifted uncomfortably beside me.  "Any questions?"
	The press exploded into a flurry of noise, pads waving, hands
flying through the air.  Mel drifted back toward us as the band and I moved
up to the podium.  FLASH!  My vision was temporarily blinded as a flash
went off near me.  So this was the life of celebrities.  I don't think I
could really take it.  I'd be blind by the time I turned 30.
	Finally Lance pointed into the crowd, and I recognized Brian
McFayden from MTv News as he stood.
	"What is your relationship with Mark?"  I caught my breath.  If I
had been asked that question, I don't know what I would've said.  Yes, I
had memorized our story, but the pressure was on.  Lance fielded the
question smoothly, though, answering as if there was no problem.
	"Like Ms. Bell said, he's the son of one of the crew members.
Since Justin and I are closest to his age, we've become good friends."
	His answer satisfied, Brian sat back down.  Another round of
questions erupted.  This time JC picked the winning reporter.
	"David Rolston, New York Times."  Ugh, it was the reporter.  "Why
is there a non-staff member on the tour?"
	"Well, Mark's mother is a wardrobe manager with us.  Since we're on
tour, and it's the summer time, she didn't want to leave him home alone.
She talked to management, and they OK'd it."  JC ended it there, not
revealing any more information than needed.
	"Why is he hanging out with the band?" pushed Rolston.  Damn him, I
hate really pushy reporters.  Oh wait, oops, that's me.
	"Like Ms. Bell said, we're close in age, and we just have a good
time together, like regular friends.  That's all," responded Justin.  You
could tell that he was getting annoyed.
	Rolston opened his mouth as if to say more, but a glare from Justin
made him sit back down.  The next barrage of noise came once again, and we
were back to answering the tide.  This continued for the next half hour or
so, and I fielded some questions on my own.
	We kept to the script, which I found somewhat difficult to do as
almost everything about me was a lie.  I wasn't related to a single person
on the crew.  Hell, I didn't even know anybody on the crew.  The only
reason why I was here was because I ran into Lance, and he fell for me.
The reason why we were in this room was because I didn't want to lose a
friend, and the world lose a pop icon, who would probably fade away in five
years or so.
	Finally Mel broke in, and ended the session.  We filed out of the
room as cameras flashed and reporters made last minute notes on their pads.
Some already had laptops hauled out, others were on their cell phones.  I
was feeling dizzy from the fast pace of the conference, and I was thirsty.
Luckily there was a table piled with food just outside the studio.  I
grabbed water and a few pieces of fruit.  I stood by the table while the
guys grabbed food and downed the water.  Before I could finish, though, we
were off again.
	"Hey, wait!  I'm not done!" I protested.
	"We're going back to the hotel," said Joey, dragging me along.
	"What about make-up?" I replied.  I never went out after a show
with my make-up still on.  Of course, that was the cake make-up, but still.
Guys walking around in make-up...not the greatest of things.  True, we WERE
in New York City, but it just didn't seem quite right.
	"Later," was the curt reply.  We fought the throngs of girls once
again, and luckily made it back inside the limo without incident.  This
time, however, the guys paused briefly to sign a few autographs.  The
result was, as usual, swooning.  Really, these girls needed to get a clue.
The guys of Nsync aren't going to marry some random fan.  Ten years later,
when Nsync was just another New Kids On the Block, they'd look back on the
posters and wonder what the hell they were thinking.
	But I, I was lucky.  I really understood what was going on with
them.  I felt special, in one way, but not special in another.  Special on
the fact that I was dating one of the members of Nsync, and not special in
the fact that I was just another person to them.  Which, actually, I liked.
Because I then could see the real Lance, Joey, Justin, JC, and Chris, not
the image.
	Lance...Lance was...Lance is.  It was hard to believe that it had
only been four days since we met, a collision in the mall.  This was
something that only happened in fairy tales and fictional, optimistic
romance novels.  After everything we had gone through in those four days, I
knew that I wanted us to move on in our relationship.  I know that just
that morning I had explained to him why I hadn't slept in the same bed with
him, but that seemed like ages ago.  The whole press conference made me
realize that he was the one for me.
	I waited in the limo, on one of the side seats, for the guys to
finish.  One by one, they entered.  Not surprisingly, Lance was the first
inside.
	"Hey you," he called softly, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.
	"Careful, Lance.  We've got company.  LOTS of it."  Still, I
snuggled up to him, brushing my head against his chin.
	"Nah, we're ok.  They can't see us through the windows."  He slung
an arm around my shoulder and drew me close.  I could feel a slight
stickiness clinging to him, probably from a mix of humid August air and
sweat from the conference.  I didn't care though.  He was cute and sexy no
matter what.  I had decided that a while ago, and it stuck now.
	"You did a good job today, for a rookie," he laughed.
	"Thanks, I think."  I grinned and looked out the window.  Joey and
Chris were heading toward us.  I removed his arm from my shoulder and
scooted away from him.
	"Hey!  What's that for?"  His eyes contained a look of hurt.  "I
thought you-"
	Lance was interrupted as Chris popped his head inside.  Lance shut
up and gave me a nod, now knowing the reason behind my action.  We still
hadn't talked about what we were going to do, and when, or if, we were
going to tell the rest of the guys.
	"Whew, now THAT was a pain," groaned Joey as he settled in opposite
me.  "Hey, how come you never get so many requests, Scoop?"
	"I guess I'm just not as popular as the rest of ya."  He shrugged.
I felt bad.  I remembered the McDonald's commercial that promoted the
Nsync/Britney Spears CD.  Lance waving a sign for himself in the crowd.
That was sad.  "But it's OK.  I happen to know that I'll still be making
millions in ten years because of FreeLance."  He grinned evilly, if that
was possible with my angel.
	"Ooo, ok, I'm sorry Mr. Hotshot manager," responded Chris.  I could
tell that this exchange had happened many times before, and that it meant
no harm.
	The limo shook once again as Justin and JC crawled inside.  A few
quick waves, a yell, and they slammed the door shut.
	"Whew, now THAT was exhausting!" exclaimed Justin.  "I'm ready for
bed."
	"What, AGAIN?" asked JC.  "You got up no more than five hours ago!
Lazy bum!"
	The chauffer entered the limo and we headed off into New York once
again.
	"So?  I need my beauty sleep!  Notice how all those girls out there
were swooning?"  Justin leaned back and ran a hand through his curly hair.
	A round of laughter came from the guys and myself.  Man that Justin
was vain!
	"Ha, you wish!" said Lance.  I nudged him lightly in the ribs, and
he gave me a knowing wink.
	Our ride back to the hotel was much more relaxed than our ride to
the studios.  Jokes flew back and forth, including some rather off-color
ones that I'm sure fans would have been shocked to hear, coming from a
goody-two-shoes band like Nsync.  But I understood where they were coming
from, being musicians and all.  Our music department was always full of sex
jokes, especially after school.
	"Hey, what do you guys say to another round of shopping?" asked
Justin.
	Lance recoiled in his seat, bumping into me.  I winced as my ankle
was jostled.  "After what happened yesterday?  Are you kidding me?"
	"Why not?  That was such a freak accident that I doubt anything
like it would happen again."
	"Well...I dunno.  I mean, Mark is still in some pain I think."
	"That's what you THINK Mr. Bass," I chided.  "I'm up for some
shopping, as long as we don't have to trek all of Manhattan again."
	"Coo," responded Justin.  "What about the rest of you?  Wanna join
us today?"  He looked at the other three guys.
	"Sure, sounds good to me," said Joey.  "But it's Sunday, y'know."
	"Yeah, but the stores here in New York tend to open longer even on
Sundays," Justin countered.
	"Hey, speaking of shopping," interrupted Lance.  "What happened to
our stuff from yesterday?"
	"Yeah," I chimed in for lack of anything better to say.  Besides,
it was some of my stuff too, and Lance and Justin had picked out some
pretty funky outfits that I really liked and wanted to keep.  It wasn't my
money, but...hey.
	"It's in our room.  We picked it up after you guys left, and
Justin's been poking around in it trying to remember what's his and what's
not," JC said.
	"Oh, ok.  We'll take a look when we get back."  Lance leaned back
in his seat, his leg rubbing up against mine.  Any casual observer would've
thought it was an accident, but I could tell from the extra pressure behind
it that it was more than that.  Geez, only four days.  Wait...five.  This
was moving pretty quickly.  But not as quickly as my previous relationship
that just stunk.
	We finally arrived at the hotel, our plans for the evening figured
out.  We'd go shopping, then return to the hotel somewhat early for a quick
bite to eat and then catch a show.  A general consensus agreed on Rent,
which I was happy to agree with.  I'm a big Rent fan, and I wanted to see
it on Broadway.
	Lance and I ended up not stopping by JC and Justin's room to pick
out our stuff, quickly changing into something more casual and then heading
out again.  Nothing happened in the room despite everything that had
happened in the limo, which was somewhat disappointing.  But it was
understandable, as we were pressed for time.  Johnny, Mel, and Evan had
vanished off to wherever management people go, and we were free for the
day.  Even security seemed more relaxed around the hotel.  I took a look at
the guys assembled in the hall.  With their various disguises, a hat here,
sunglasses there, and more casual clothes, they seemed like normal people.
Now if I could get by without being recognized.  If we were lucky, no news
channel had broadcast our press conference, and I was still an unknown.
	We hit the town, six hyper, unruly guys.  Being daring, Chris
suggested the subway to take us into the heart of the city.  Why not?  The
rid was uneventful, just more chatter and laughter.  Some of the guys
looked silly with sunglasses on in the subway, but hey, it was "style."
Hitting a few stores and running up a bill that must have totaled in the
ten-thousands between the six of us, we completed our shopping spree
without incident.  Lance was very keen on looking for what might be used as
wardrobe for the next video.  He really was the business-minded one,
looking forward.
	We hopped the subway back around six, and staggered into the hotel
laughing thirty minutes later.  McDonald's was declared the official dinner
for the night, since it was quick and there was a McD's just a block over.
The guys dumped off their bags in their rooms and were ready to go again in
under a minute.  I wasn't sure if I could keep up with all this hyper
energy.  My ankle was hurting somewhat after three hours of walking,
standing, and balancing as I tried on countless pairs of pants.  I decided
to take a break and rest before heading out once again to see Rent.
	"Hey, guys?  I think I'll stay here and order room service or
something," I announced to the group.
	"What?  Why?" asked Joey.
	"My ankle's hurting somewhat," I replied.  "I just want to give it
a rest.  Go on, I won't mind."
	"Hell no, we're not leaving you here alone!  We'll run down and get
the food to go and bring it back."  JC was being the compassionate one
again.
	"I'll stay with Mark," offered Lance.  Figures.
	"Alright, cool.  So what do you want?"
	Lance and I gave him our orders, and the quartet headed down the
hall to get our food.  Lance jogged after them, stopping JC and briefly
conversing with the guys.  I turned back to our door and patted my pockets,
searching for the card key.
	"Problem?" asked Lance, coming up behind me.
	"Hmm, seems like I left my key in the room," I said, flustered.
	"Nah, that's ok.  I've got mine."  Lance took his own key out and
opened the door.  I moved forward to enter the room, but Lance surprised me
by sweeping me off of my feet and carrying me in.  I was surprised he could
do that, since he wasn't exactly the strongest man in the world and I
wasn't exactly anorexic.
	"Hey!  What are you doing?" I cried, laughing.
	"Well, you said that your ankle was hurting you.  Can't let you
walk on it too much, can I?"  He chuckled, and I let myself melt, absorbing
the bass of his voice.  "Why, do you have a problem with this?"
	"Well, y'know, it...it's just that...y'know, carrying somebody into
a room in this particular fashion is usually for..."
	"A married couple?" he finished.
	"Heh, yeah."
	"But they usually go in all gentle and everything, don't they?"  We
were approaching my bed.  I could feel his muscles tense under me.
	"Yeah..."  I was getting nervous, trying to figure out what he had
in mind.
	"Well then, I guess we're not married!" he shouted as he dropped me
onto my bed rather unceremoniously.  My ankle smacked the edge of the bed,
sending needles of pain up into my brain.
	"OW!  Crap!" I cried.  I grasped at my ankle, rolling over and
curling into the fetal position.  "Thanks a LOT Lance!" I said through
gritted teeth.
	Once again, his expression instantly went from playful to concern.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry Mark!  I didn't mean for that to happen!"  He was
instantly by my side, holding me, comforting me in his arms.
	"Agh!" I moaned.  I rolled about for a few more minutes, waiting
for the pain to subside.  All the while Lance sat, stroking my shoulder and
apologizing.  My ankle finally returned to its original state, with only a
dull ache coming through.
	"I'm sowwy," he said once again, a puppy dog look on his face.
"Want me to give it a kiss and make it all better?"
	I had to laugh at that.  "With my shoes on?  If you want!"
	Lance turned over and gave my ankle a tender kiss, and then moved
up my body.  At any other point I would've slapped him silly, but it just
seemed right.  Even though we were fully clothed, I felt chills running
down my spine.  He worked his way up and finally ended up on my forehead,
having bypassed my lips.
	"Have I told you that I love you?" he whispered.
	"Uh, I don't think so," I responded.  I looked across the mere
inches that separated us, into his green eyes that revealed so much.
	"Well, I do."  Once again, those eyes revealed every last bit of
meaning behind that statement.  "I love you."
	He moved his head even closer, closing the gap.  His eyes began to
close, and I knew where this was headed.  This time as I felt his lips
brush against mine, I didn't pull away.  They moved off again, and then
returned, this time with more pressure and more intensity.  I responded,
parting my lips just slightly.  His hands danced across my back, grasping
me and pulling me even closer.  Lances soft lips parted as well, and
suddenly our mouths were open wide, tongues exploring the other's.  My
tongue entwined with his, exchanging volumes with the muscle in our mouths.
The feeling was incredible, and all thoughts of pain vanished instantly.  I
reached up, grasping his hair and bringing him closer.  I could feel his
hardening cock through his jeans, and I was sure he could feel mine.
	We continued to make out, coming up for air for only brief amounts
of time.  Both his hands and mine traveled down towards the other's waist
band.  He pulled away briefly, closing his lips.  I opened my eyes just in
time to see him attack once again.  We met, kissing once again as we
explored each other.  My hands snuck past the waist band and I could feel
his soft butt cheeks through the thin fabric of his boxers.  He gasped
slightly as I squeezed softly.
	There was a sudden knock at the door, and we pulled apart quickly.
My bed sheets were a mess from our squirming.  We were both panting from
the exchange of passion, despite its rather non-physical nature.
	"Lance?  Mark?" came a voice.
	Lance bolted from the bed, checking his appearance in the mirror.
His hair had no difference, as its natural style was a mess.  He
straightened out his clothes as I put the bed back into some semblance of
order.  I patted myself down, trying to dislodge any incriminating
wrinkles, smoothing out my unmovable hair.  I walked over to the hallway
leading to the door just as Lance opened it.
	"Hey," said Lance.  JC turned back to face the door.
	"Hey!  You're alive!  We thought you guys had gone out or
something.  Here's your food."  He stuck a bag through the door, then let
himself into our room.  "Everything OK?  I thought I heard a scuffle or
something."
	"Yeah, we're fine.  Just a little rough-housing."  Lance stood
back, trying to look casual.
	"Really?  With his bad ankle and all?"
	"Yeah, I'm fine, actually," I said.  I sat down on the bed, and JC
was none the wiser.  "It only hurts when something hits it or if I'm on it
too long."
	"Ah, well, cool.  We're eating over in our room.  Wanna come over?"
asked JC.  He stood by the door, his hand on the handle.  "You can look
through your stuff before we go out again."
	"Sure," Lance and I responded in unison.  We looked at each other
and laughed.
	"I think we've been together way too long!" I chuckled.  I meant
the remark in good humor, but the change in Lance's ever expressive eyes
told me something else.  I gave him a look that hopefully set his mind at
ease.  Luckily JC was already half way out the door and hadn't witnessed
our exchange.
	We walked the twenty feet next door and entered JC and Justin's
room.  We walked in on a war zone.  Fries were flying through the air, salt
packet being chucked and ketchup packages were acting as bombs.
	"What the hell is going on?" shouted JC.  Hey, it was his right.
After all, it WAS his room.
	The three hooligans stopped and stared at JC looking like a bunch
of five year olds caught with spilled grape juice on mom's fancy white
evening gown.
	"I leave you alone for FIVE minutes and you can't control
yourselves?  GEEZ, I mean, you, Chris, of all people, the oldest...but
obviously not the most mature or responsible.  And Justin, this is MY room
as much as it is yours, and I don't feel like sleeping on fries tonight!"
	I had never seen JC explode like this, and from the looks on the
faces of the accused and even Lance's, they hadn't either.  What was going
on?
	"JC," began Justin, rising from the bed.  "I'm-I'm sorry.  It was
kinda my fault.  I started chucking some fries at Chris, and...and I guess
it just got out of hand."  Justin stood in the middle of the room,
shuffling his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, head down.
	Joey and Chris walked next to Justin and mumbled apologies.  JC
strode over to them and walked around them, giving them a slew of verbal
abuse.  Lance stood behind me as I watched in amazement.  Talk about the
other side of the performance!
	"Does this happen often?" I asked Lance, turning to face him.  But
before I could get any further, I was bombarded with fries as Lance turned
the bag he was holding upside down over my head.  The four other members
ran over and started sticking fries in my hair, down my shirt, breaking
open ketchup packages and dumping it on me.  I struggled in vain, but the
five of them overpowered me and I was helpless.  They were laughing as they
tormented me, and finally stopped.  I was covered in red streaks with bits
of golden yellow.  It was then I realized that I was standing on top of
plastic sheeting that had been cleverly concealed.
	"Welcome to the group!" chuckled Lance.
	"You didn't think you'd make it this far without some sort of
initiation, did you?" asked Joey.
	"Well, I-" I tried to say, but a fry nestled against my chin
tickled me, and I was forced to stop.
	"Your REAL food is in the bathroom.  Go get cleaned up and then
come back.  We've got about 45 minutes before we have to go."  JC pointed
to the door.
	"THANKS guys," I finally managed to say as I made my way out the
door.  I walked to our door, and then realized that my key was still inside
the room.  I sighed and turned around to walk back to JC and Justin's room,
but walked instead into a mass of flesh.
	"Looking for this?" came a southern bass.
	"Lance, you jerk!  Yes!  That was some prank you pulled off in
there!"  I grabbed the key and let myself into the room.
	"I know, I know.  I'm sorry, but we always do something to a new
member.  I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but the rest of the
guys have really accepted you as just another friend now, not an outsider.
We usually do something with water, but obviously, since we're in a hotel
with carpet, we couldn't do that."
	"How'd you know this was going down?" I asked as I grabbed a towel
and started wiping off the ketchup.  Maybe a shower would be a better idea.
	"Well," started Lance.
	"Oh, wait, stupid!"  I smacked myself as I remembered that Lance
had talked to JC just as they were leaving.
	"Hehe, yup."
	I finally managed to wipe off all the ketchup with the help of a
little water and walked into the room searching for clean clothes.
	"And what about everything after that?"  I asked.  "Was that part
of the plan too, to get my guard down?"  I knew it was harsh, but I felt it
had to be asked.  I turned back to him, and I knew the answer before he
said it.
	"No, that was just me."  Lance sat down on the bed and pouted.
"You think I did that just because we had an evil plan hatching?  Hell, I
haven't even told the guys yet!  That was me, and my expression of love for
you.  I can't believe you even thought of that idea."
	Damage control team 1, report to Lance Bass immediately.  Damage
control team 2, report to Lance Bass immediately.  Hell, all damage control
teams, report to Lance Bass immediately.
	I sat next to him on the bed, my clean clothes next to me.  I took
his hands in mine and lifted his chin.  "Lance, I'm sorry.  I love you too.
I just wanted to make sure.  I know how much you guys act occasionally.  It
was just that it was so...so intimate, I wanted to make sure that it was
permanent and was going to last.  Because..."  I took a breath.  "I enjoyed
it."
	"Really?" His eyes finally met mine.  "You don't hate me for doing
all that to you?"
	"For the ketchup, maybe," I grinned.  "But for the nice little
make-out session, hell no!  I think an encore would be nice, actually!"
	His face lit up, and he leaned over, opening his lips once again.
But this time I pulled back and stood.  Lance fell over onto the bed.
	"Hey!  I thought you wanted an encore!"
	"Not now, blondie.  I gotta get changed so we can eat!  I'm
hungry!"  I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom, closing the
door behind me.  I changed, and checked myself in the mirror just before I
left again.
	You're crazy, you know that?  I told my reflection.  You've gone
completely crazy, and so has the world.  But you don't care, and you're
happy, and that's all that matters.  Now, what happens at the end of the
tour?
	I mentally chided myself for leaving me with such a troubling
thought, but slapped a smile on my face and walked out to meet Lance.
	He whistled at my appearance, as I was dressed in one of the new
outfits he had picked out for me.
	"Lookin' nice!  A change from the t-shirt and jeans combo you
always do."  He opened the door for me.
	"Wait, I'm not forgetting my key this time!"  I sprinted back into
the room and looked for my key.  I checked the table, the night stand,
under the bed.  It was no where to be found.  Where was it?  "Hmm, I can't
find it."
	"We'll get the front desk to make you another one.  C'mon, our
foods going to be frozen by the time we eat it."
	We ate quickly, the guys complimenting me on my new look.  I didn't
think it was that different.  It was still a casual style, but it seemed
more pop star-ish than my usual outfit.  After finishing our brief,
calorie-laden meal, we headed for the elevators once again to go see Rent.
	The elevator arrived, and as the doors opened a man stepped out
onto our floor.  He mumbled something and proceeded down the hall.
	"Odd, I thought we were the only people on this floor.  And I don't
recognize him from any of the crew," commented JC.
	"Maybe he's a hotel employee, or a temp on one of the crew,"
suggested Joey.
	"Maybe, but I don't like that," responded JC.  "I'm gonna give Mel
a call."  He pulled his phone out of his pocket as we descended toward the
lobby.
	"C to M, over."
	"M here.  What's up?"
	"We just had some person walk out onto our floor, and none of the
guys recognized him.  Did we get a new crew member?"
	A pause.  "Not that I know of.  I'll have security check the floor
right away.  M out."
	JC returned the phone.  "Weird," was all he said as we picked up
our tickets at the front desk and walked into the humid August night.