Date: Sun, 07 Apr 2002 06:09:22 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 3

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true
sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned.

NEEDING YOU
By Neqs
Chapter 3

By the time Marshall Mathers woke up from his much-needed sleep, it was six
o'clock and his hangover, which hadn't been that bad to begin with, was all
gone. He took his time to flex his limbs one at the time, planning his
schedule for the evening. 'I'll call Lance around eight. That means I have
two hours to relax and ready myself for the night.'

Marshall didn't waste any time after that. He called the room service for
some breakfast, "Yeah I don't fucking care if it's six p.m., I just woke up
and I'm starving my ass off!" and while he still had the phone in his hand,
he called one of his numerous, nameless assistants.

"I need the latest *NSYNC album, and I need it yesterday. Bring it to the
hotel within the hour."  There was no need to offer the bewildered
assistant any explanation. He wasn't high enough in the food chain to know
of Eminem's nicer persona.

While waiting for the food to arrive, Marshall slouched on the sofa. Before
sitting down, though, he put his Ella Fitzgerald cd in the stereo. 'Now
this is relaxing morning music,' he thought, leaning against the back of
the sofa with his eyes closed. When the track changed, he opened his eyes
again and picked up a book from the side table. Opening it on the first
page, he read aloud the famous starting sentence.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of
a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Marshall sighed. 'Jane was sort
of right, but I don't think she'd thought it all through. I don't want a
wife; I had one from hell already. A life companion, well, that's another
matter altogether.'

Tossing the copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' back on the table, Marshall
grabbed the remote control and flicked on MTV. The first words he heard
shook him a little.

"I guess I'm ready, for settling down when fooling around is over-"
Marshall hit the mute button, at the same time feeling shocked, amused,
irritated, and, oddly enough, pleased by the coincidence.  'Damn British
boy bands, I've got enough trouble with the American ones,' he thought
morosely.  'Am I a jumble of emotions or what?' he asked himself
rhetorically.

Soon his 'breakfast' arrived and he wolfed it down, oblivious to the taste.
The next disturbance was a flustered-looking assistant bringing the
requested album. Marshall immediately put it on.  'Not that bad,' he mused
as he listened. 'At least they have more attitude than the sugar-water
Backstreet Boys,' he thought while listening to 'Pop'. 'Girlfriend' he
found plain whiny. As he went through the songs, listening to snippets of
this and that, the track he liked best was 'Do Your Thing'. It was relaxed
and easy-going and had some good lyrics.

'Ok, so I don't hate my boyfriend's music, that's always good,' he thought,
before the realisation of what he'd just thought froze him to the
spot. Boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. This he had to think through very carefully.

Leaving 'Celebrity' playing on repeat, Marshall ran himself a hot bath. The
green apple scented bath oil caressed his form while he gradually willed
his body to relax.  'Always tense. I suppose it's an occupational hazard,
being an angry rapper and a bigoted asshole. Well, people who survive my
remarks will only get stronger for them. Luckily 'Stan' is pure fiction.'

Marshall focused his wandering attention to his earlier
slip. 'Boyfriend. Is that what I want Lance to be? Sure, he's nice, seems
smart, and is definitely good-looking.  And he's a celebrity too, so he
would understand the need for secrecy and my travelling. I hope he's after
something real too and not just hot for the 'angry mean rapper'. I'll have
to see how tonight goes.'

The ringing of the phone shook the lightly dozing blonde alert an
indefinite period of time later.  He pulled the plug, and wrapped a plush
bathrobe around his wet form as he stalked over to the phone.

"What!!!" he half screamed half growled. It was a fearsome sound, and it
caused the assistant in the other end to gulp and stutter and offer silent
prayers of gratitude that he wasn't in the same physical location as
Eminem.

"Uh. Mr Mathers, Dr. Dre asked me to remind you, sir, that your presence
would be greatly appreciated in the meeting tomorrow afternoon. Actually he
did mention something about dragging your ass there himself, if need be,
but I'm sure that was just a figure of speech, sir, Mr Mathers-" the poor
man managed to blurt out, before Marshall cut him off.

"I'll be there, tell him that too and now get off my case, freak!" he
snapped.

'Well, that might have been a little harsh,' he thought as he slammed the
phone down, 'but I've gotta keep up the image and he was really starting to
piss me off.' Then he glanced at the clock above the widescreen TV.

"Holy fuck! It's half past seven, I must have fallen asleep in the bath or
something. Now I've got to hurry!" he said out loud. It was essential that
everything would go as planned tonight. And boy did he have a plan...

* * *

"And again!" rang Mitchell's cheery command. It made Lance sigh and rub his
head with one hand. He was still feeling a little buzzed, despite having
had eight hours of sleep instead of Chris's six. What on earth had Chris
been doing up until eight o'clock in the morning anyway? "Wouldn't you like
to know" was the only answer he'd give, along with a saucy wink and a
wagged eyebrow.  The little man had never required that much sleep anyway,
so this was nothing new for him. Lance, on the other hand, while not being
quite the sleep artist Josh was, still liked to sleep in after he'd been
drinking. So, he was not in his best working condition.

"Come on guys, I know it's 6:30 p.m. and you're probably tired and still
hung over from last night's celebration and all, but this is the last track
that we absolutely need to get down today, and then we can all go home,"
Mitchell tried to encourage the tired singers.

"Let's fess up, guys, we can't make Lance late for his big date, can we?
Let's do this and get going," was Justin's last effort to wring the last
drops of energy out of his exhausted band mates.

And amazingly, it worked. What they didn't have the strength for to do for
their own sakes, they did for their friend and brother. One for all and all
that sappy stuff, but it still brought smiles to all worn faces when the
job was finally done.

Lance's enthusiasm in the limo on the ride back to the hotel was fun to
watch. As minutes and city rolled past, though, his old insecurities began
to raise their ugly heads. 'What if he doesn't call?  What if he calls and
then wants only sex? I know what he said, but still.  What if he calls and
tonight goes great but then he doesn't want to see me again? I know I'm
falling for him fast, how could I let myself fall this quick? He'd never
want me anyway! I've got round cheeks and weird eyes that are too pale and
an ugly pale body. And I'm such a wuss and I'm not even funny or good
company or anything...'

Justin frowned at his friend from the opposite side of the limo, where he
was snuggling under JC's protecting arm. It was clear that the green-eyes
bass was being plagued with doubts once again. 'When will Lance see what we
see when we look at him? He's an attractive, talented, extremely
intelligent guy who's fiercely loyal to his friends and caring to all
around him. He so deserves a chance for happiness. I'll help him get ready
for tonight, that'll cheer him up and ensure that he's at his best,'
decided Justin, his face brightening at the last thought. Some might call
him shallow, but he liked to think that he knew how to enjoy the little
things in life and not dwell on the bad stuff. And he too would do anything
to make a friend happy.

* * *

When the limo arrived to the hotel after what seemed like hours to Lance
but was actually only about twenty minutes, the guys trooped out of the
vehicle and aimed for the elevators, barely dodging the hoards of rabid
fans. Once they were on their floor, Justin gave JC a kiss on the cheek and
a murmured explanation. The proud and loving gaze that JC sent back to his
lover expressed his approval, and promised a reward for the kind act later.

Justin allowed an anticipatory shiver run through him before following
Lance to his room. 'He's got such intense eyes!' he thought in a dreamy
daze. 'I remember the one time he brought me to orgasm only by-'

"Justin! Are you sleepwalking or what? Did you want something?" Justin was
snapped out of his reminisces by Lance's query. He blinked at his friend,
not at first recalling what he'd come there for. Then it came to him.

"I'm here to help you prepare for tonight's big event. God only knows what
you'd do without me here to hold your hand! Now go shower, it's already
7:20, I'll choose your outfit," Justin fussed, rapidly taking control of
the situation. Lance was more than a little amused by his younger friend's
bossy manner, but he was used to it. He was also very grateful, and thus
only nodded obediently before digging a clean pair of briefs out of his
bags and scurrying to the bathroom. He also very carefully neglected to
tease his formerly curly friend about the tent he'd seen in his pants just
a minute before, when he'd spaced out.

'I bet he was thinking about Josh,' Lance mused while washing his
hair. He'd been sincerely happy for his two friends when they'd finally
gotten together six months earlier. It had been amusing for a while to
watch Justin dance circles around JC, who'd only turned more intense and
more true to his nickname 'sex on two feet'. When they'd been found
sleeping in the same bed all naked and cuddled together, glowing with
sexhausted glory, their friends' reaction had been a "Finally!" from Joey
and Chris and a dazzling smile from Lance. It was then that Lance had found
the courage to blurt out the words "I'm gay, too" and it was then the he
was answered, "So what's new?" by a smirking Chris. After that, all had
been going great in *NSYNCland, what with a few minor lovers' spats and
Lance's occasional bouts of depression.

'Things are definitely looking up,' he thought, looking forward to his
evening with Marshall Mathers with only slight apprehension. Keeping that
frame of mind he decided he was squeaky clean and turned the shower off. He
patted his pale body dry, giving his reflection in the steamy mirror only a
brief, habitual, disgusted glance. Putting the briefs on he made his way to
the bedroom, where Justin had just about Lance's entire wardrobe laid out
on the bed.

"Things are not as hopeless as they seem, my friend," Justin intoned,
arcing his hand over the clothes on the bed. "Now if we combine this and
this..." Justin was apparently in love with his new role as Lance's advisor
on all matters of love and looks. As the younger blonde went on, Lance
checked the time. 'Seven thirty. Half an hour to go, until and if he
calls.'

* * *

In the hotel room right down the hall, Marshall Mathers was ordering a
romantic meal from room service. "And bring some candles too, will you? The
Argentinean red should go fine with the pasta, how the fuck should I know?
Bring some soft drinks too, just to be on the safe side. And for dessert
we'll have..." Marshall was getting tired of giving detailed instructions
to the obsolete person on the other end of the line. "You know what a
romantic dinner is, fucker? Just bring all the stuff I told you to and it's
to be here by eight, you get that? Great!" he exclaimed, slamming the phone
to its cradle.

'I think that's about it,' he thought, going through a mental checklist.
'Romantic music, dinner with candles, lights toned down. I'll order the
movie later so that I can ask Lance if he has any preferences. Now what am
I forgetting,' the rapper wondered, his naturally pouty lips pursed as he
gazed down at his feet. His bare feet!

'Shit! I guess I should get out of this stupid bathrobe and put some
clothes on,' he thought, startled by his forgetfulness. Chuckling
sheepishly, he hurried to the bedroom, where he put on some light grey
slacks and a blue v-necked shirt that brought out his eyes very nicely and
followed the form of his torso. He added his usual aftershave. His hair was
short enough not to require any brushing, the smooth platinum helmet it
was.

When he was dressed and ready, Marshall checked his watch for the
thousandth time that night.  It was ten to eight. Not wanting to seem too
eager, he tidied up the already immaculate suite until the room service
waiter arrived with the food. After inhaling the delicious odours and
accepting the man's offer of spreading the included candles artistically
around the room, Marshall shoved him out the door and tipped him
generously.

Checking his watch again, he decided it was time to call Lance.

* * *

He wasn't calling. Lance was sitting on the edge of his bed, which was
still covered with clothes.  Lance rubbed his hands on black-clad thighs
and adjusted the cuffs of his white silken button-up, the top two buttons
of which where unbuttoned to show off the elegant silver cross dangling
from his neck. Every five seconds or so, he would glance at the clock on
the night table, or at his wristwatch. His cell phone, which was on the bed
next to him, got an almost uninterrupted stare.  'It's five past eight
already! He hasn't called, and he won't,' Lance was agonising silently,
while a concerned Justin observed his friend's anxiety. 'Why would he want
to see me anyway, the ugly, stupid loser that I am-'

"Did he say he'd call you eight o'clock sharp or around eight?" Justin had
the presence of mind to ask. He immediately congratulated himself as the
light of understanding and hope began to dawn on Lance's expressive face.

"I don't remember, but I don't think he was too specific," Lance replied
brightly, turning to beam at the younger man.

At that moment, the cell phone started to ring, and after staring at it
disbelievingly for a few seconds Lance lunged for it, only to be stopped by
a shout from Justin.

"Wait! Keep your cool, man! You don't want to seem too eager. Let it ring
at least three times, otherwise you get no respect," Justin sagely advised
his impatient band mate.

Lance was almost whimpering in his desperate need to answer the phone, and
finally Justin let him. Of course only after moving so that he'd hear every
word Lance and Marshall were saying.

"Hello?" Lance said breathily.

"Is this Lance?" came Marshall's unmistakeable voice over the phone.

"Yeah. Marshall?" Lance said softly in his lovely low rumble.

"That's me. You can come over any time you're ready now. I've got
everything prepared," Marshall said.

"I'll be there in no time," Lance replied, which made Justin slap the back
of his head and roll his eyes.

"I'll be expecting you, then," Marshall countered with an audible smile in
his voice. "See you soon."

"Bye," was all that Lance had time to say before the phone went dead.

"What did I tell you about seeming too eager," Justin fumed. Then his mood
lifted and mouth curved into a faint smile. "I do wonder what he meant
about having everything prepared. Well, never mind, you'll find out soon
enough. Here you go, just a tiny sprinkle of scent and you'll be
irresistible," Justin said while adding the final touches to his
'masterpiece', primping a hair here and smoothing fabric there.

Lance swallowed his apprehensions, stood up, and walked to the door. He
turned for a final inspection and asked Justin, "How do I look?"

Justin got up from the bed and took the sight before him. Lance was fresh
from the shower, looking sharp as ever. The black slack showed off his long
legs, hugging him in all the right places, and the white shirt added just
the perfect impression of innocence and grace. The cross glinted alluringly
from its resting place on his smooth chest. And most important of all,
Lance's gorgeous jade eyes were shining from within, making his entire face
glow with the hopefulness and excitement that lighted them.

'God, if I didn't love my Josh more than life itself, I would have begged
on my knees for a year to have a chance with Lance. He is such a wonderful
person, inside and out.'

"Oh, Lance," he said out loud, "you look absolutely fantastic. I wouldn't
go out like that, though.  It might be inconvenient if the world stopped
turning just to drink in the sight of you, and if the moon came down from
the sky to lay adoringly in your feet," Justin whispered almost tearfully,
overwhelmed by the moment, a poet against his will.

"Thank you so much, Justin," Lance said, holding back tears, moved beyond
belief by his friend's uncharacteristic emotional display. "Thank you for
everything."

"Well, go already," Justin urged. "Remember that we leave for the studio at
two tomorrow afternoon. And first thing in the morning, you're telling me
everything!"

"It's a deal," Lance replied, opening the door to the hallway and stepping
through. He walked slowly towards Marshall's suite, stopping briefly in
front of the door to compose himself. He took a deep breath, summoned all
his courage, and knocked on the door.

TBC

Quotes: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen World Of Our Own by Westlife

Sorry if the quotes aren't word and comma perfect, I recited them from
memory.

Comments and suggestions for the plot are greatly appreciated. Please send
some to nea_1@hotmail.com. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received
so far!