Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 11:18:29 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Needing You chapter 17

This is to Izzy (to whom also a million thanks for betaing!), Rob and Dan,
Metra, Peter, Ryan, SumSum, Korandda, and all the other wonderful people
who have graced me with their kind and helpful comments.  Hell, it's to
everybody who takes the time to read it! Enjoy...

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true
sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m)
content, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any likeness to people
personally known to me is either purely coincidental and unintended, or not
in any way malevolent.

NEEDING YOU
CHAPTER 17
by Neqs

"Do you realise that we've found the perfect, non-fattening dessert? I
think we even burned calories having it!"

Marshall looked at Lance fondly. They were both sprawled on the bed,
catching their breath from their latest 'light snack'. 'Dessert' had been
the theme of the day from breakfast onwards.

"Sweetheart, we definitely did burn calories, but I doubt we were the first
to discover the joys of dessert."

"Yeah, but wow!" Lance sighed, gazing at the high, white ceiling lazily.

"What are we gonna do now?" The question made Lance turn his face towards
his lover and waggle an eyebrow artfully.

"Well," he drawled, "we did the kissing thing, the licking thing, the
finger thing thing, the gentle nail thing, the nibbling thing, the light
chewing thing, and the nuzzling thing, oh and the eye-lash thing, can't
forget that one. I really wish your hair was a little longer, hon, the hair
thing is just lovely," Lance finished his list in a satisfied, dreamy tone
of voice.

"I ain't growing my hair long," Marshall mock-growled, rolling on top of
Lance. "We've glossed over something vital, Jamie baby," he continued in a
serious tone, raising his head to look his lover square in the eyes.

"What?"

"We've forgotten to do... the toe thing."

The mere mention of 'the toe thing' made Lance's eyes roll back in his head
and a shiver run though him. His breathing, which had evened out during the
recuperation period, quickened again as his lover travelled lower, lower
down his body until he made Lance forget about thinking about anything,
anything at all.

* * *

"I can't believe you haven't done it!" Lance's eyes were wide in disbelief.
Marshall's evaded them.

"Cut it out, will you?" Lance was wonderful no matter what, it was like a
law of nature or something, but hearing him state his amazement at
Marshall's ignorance for the twelfth time or so had made his magical charm
wear out, a little anyway. The tiny amount that it was possible to.

"It's not my fault I'm not a freak like you, babe."

"Freak?" Those eyebrows were way deadly. Marshall knew for sure that Lance
didn't pluck them, so it made no sense for them to be so perfect and
curving. Then he revised his though. It was Lance, after all, so
yeah. Perfection was perfectly normal for him.

Marshall groaned in the quiet of his mind and hid his face in his hands. He
sure was far-gone. Not that he minded much, though... Lance was worth every
bit of it. It was just such a shame that he had the ability to turn
Marshall's brain into mush so easily, sometimes even without doing
anything. But could he call it a shame when he throroughly enjoyed it?

Lance, tapping away on his laptop, was oblivious. "You're the freak here,
hon. You take correspondence courses, I just can't believe you've managed
to do that without setting up an e-mail account. Is that even possible?"

"Jamie." It wasn't quite a whine. He hoped. "I just never got around to it,
believe it or not - and you've made very clear that you don't, and can't,
believe it. So, now you got me one and we can forget about this, right?"

Lance peered into the hopeful blue eyes of Marshall Mathers and smiled
sheepishly. "I'm sorry hon, I've been a pain, haven't I?"

"Nah. Well, just a little. But it's okay, 'cause I adore you."

"Okay." And it was.

* * *

"Fuck!" Lance looked up in surprise at Marshall's sudden outburst. The
rapper, who'd just a moment before been contentedly stroking the back of
Lance's neck, making him hum in satisfaction, now jumped up and began
pacing up and down the room, making frantic gestures.

"How could I forget it? Oh fuck fuck fuck! What's the time? Fucking fuck!"

Lance sighed. Marshall was obviously very upset with himself for some
reason. They'd had a peaceful day until that moment, enjoying each other's
touch and closeness.  They'd barely left the bed, except to bring in the
breakfast cart and then later to fetch Lance's laptop. Now, that peace had
been shattered, and Lance was afraid to find out what was the cause of
Marshall's anxiety.

"Hon. Hon?" For a moment the other didn't seem to hear him, wrapped up in
his thoughts. Then he seemed to snap out of it, turning towards
Lance. "What's wrong, Em?"

Lance was expecting something dreadful. The answer he got wasn't that.

"Hailie." Lance stared at him mutely, and then blinked. Hailie.

"Your daughter?" How did this construe a disaster? Lance was getting more
confused by the minute. Luckily, Marshall didn't keep him in the dark for
long.

"Yeah, she's... She's coming here, I mean, to the hotel. I haven't seen her
in ages, and Kim had some business here, and since I knew I'd be staying
here for a few days I thought it'd all work out great. I was so excited,
but it somehow slipped my mind. And when I heard you were coming, well,
let's just say that I haven't thought much about anything else!" Marshall
was flustered now, not so angry anymore. Lance tried to calm him down.

"Sweetie, when is she coming? It's three p.m. now, she isn't coming
tonight, is she?"

"Yes she is! That's why I'm flipping out here! She'll be here in two
hours!"  Okay, the calming down wasn't working. In fact, Marshall seemed to
be on the verge of outright panic. The situation demanded quick and
decisive action.

Marshall had stopped pacing to and fro, but his hands were still sketching
wild shapes into the air, and his eyes were glazed over. Lance looked him
over appraisingly, deciding which course of action to take. Then he reached
out and grabbed the startled rapper, pulling him on the bed in a rolling
tumble that put Lance on top, which suited him just fine. He proceeded to
kiss the man thoroughly and with purpose. The mild protests soon subsided,
as Marshall got more into the intense kiss, momentarily distracted from his
worries.

After a few minutes of this, Lance pulled back to observe the results.
Marshall was flushed a nice shade of pink, his short hair was in a
respectable state of disarray, his soft lips were very red and wet, and his
eyes were glazed over in a most gratifying way. He looked dazed, but
happy. Satisfied with his success, Lance slid from on top of Marshall to
lie by his side, gently stoking his temples and making shushing noises.

"Em, sweetie." It took a few seconds for Lance's words to seep through to
the rapper's overwhelmed brain.

"Hmm?"

"Hailie." The word was enough to cause Marshall to start flailing about
weakly.

"Hon, stop that. Or do I need to kiss you senseless again?"

Another few seconds. Then Marshall seemed to wake up and shake himself, and
he was smiling slightly when he turned to face Lance on the bed, calmer
now.

"Okay. I'm okay. I wouldn't want you to KISS me now, that's just plain
wrong!"

Lance was reassured by his boyfriend's weak attempt of humour. "Listen to
me baby. Hailie is coming today, and that's not a reason to panic. It's
great, and I'm thrilled to get to finally meet your daughter. I can hear in
your voice that she's precious to you, and I'm honored that you're willing
to share this side of your life with me. I mean... If you are?"

Reality check: no matter how strong Lance could be when it was needed, he
was human. More so, he was a man in love, and that made him vulnerable in a
million ways. He could take a lot, face a lot, but it was his love that
gave him his strength, and it couldn't help him much when it in itself was
in the heart of the problem.

Marshall, however, was quick to dispel his lover's insecurities. "Of course
I want that, Jamie!  James, I've thought about it so much, wanting the two
most important people in my life to meet each other. That will make me so
happy I can't even start to describe it."

Lance, who could hear the truth in his voice and read it in his eyes, felt
warm again, centred. It scared him a little - a lot - that his happiness
revolved to tightly around just one person, but he still wouldn't have
changed it for the world. He made a mental note to think about it more when
he had time. Right now he needed to concentrate on other things.

"Okay then, I'm glad that's settled. Now, let's plan!" Marshall had to
smile at that. Planning seemed to be one of Lance's favourite hobbies,
along with sex and shopping.

"Hmm...what does Hailie like to do?"

"Um, she likes to listen to music, and watch cartoons. And she loves junk
food." Lance sighed.

"They all sound like very intellectually stimulating activities. Well, at
least the music thing is good for her."

"She likes the Backstreet Boys."

"Damn! I guess I'll have to give her a few of our albums to improve her
taste." Marshall curved his lips indulgently.

"Sure babe, whatever you want."

* * *

A little less than two hours later there was a knock on the door. Marshall
glanced around the room, checking one more time that it was presentable. He
nervously ran his fingers through his freshly washed hair, drew a deep
breath, and opened the door.

"Daddy!" Before Marshall could reach out to embrace his daughter, Kim swept
into the room, making him step back.

"Here she is! I'm already late, but I'll pick her up around nine, okay?
I've got a room a few floors below. Don't do anything stupid, Marshall, all
I need to do is call my lawyers and you're in deep shit. Now, Hailie, you
have my cell number, call me if daddy does something that makes you
uncomfortable, okay? Bye!"

For a moment all Marshall could do was stare at the slammed-shut door, a
wry, ironic smile crept over his face. Breezing into his life, or out of
it, making it heaven, or making it hell, that seemed to be all she had ever
done. Bitch. Then a clear voice shook him from his moment of contemplation.

"Daddy?" He turned to the other star in his sky.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Hug me, dummy!" So he did, savouring the feel of her tiny frame against
his own, breathing her in.  It was a minute or so before he could let go of
her, reluctant even so.

"You've grown so much! You're a big girl already, Hailie honey," he said,
stepping back to better admire her.

She giggled proudly. "You haven't grown at all, daddy! What are we gonna
do?  I wanna watch cartoons!"

Soon Marshall had her settled on the sofa, enraptured by the adventures of
Cow and Chicken. He went to the bedroom.

Lance looked up from his laptop. "Can I come out of hiding now?"

Marshall smiled sheepishly, embarrassed even though Lance didn't seem to
mind. "Yeah, sorry about that, it's just, Kim, and-"

Lance cut his ramblings off with an airy gesture. "Em, I understand, you
don't have to explain yourself to me. I love you, remember? Anyway, isn't
there a lady you should introduce me to here somewhere?"

* * *

Curled comfortably in the sofa corner, Lance took a moment to observe the
other inhabitants of the dimly lit room.

Little Hailie's attention was once again riveted to the TV screen, where
the magic carpet was doing tricks. Lance thought she was beautiful. She was
so small and delicate, and she reminded him of Marshall in startling,
heart-wrenching ways. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, not at all. It just
reminded Lance of all those little, abstract things that were so beautiful
and inherently valuable they hurt. It was a good pain, a sweet pain, that
didn't make it hurt any less.

Marshall was also paying rapt attention to the film, not wanting to miss
the experience of watching Disney's Aladdin with his daughter. Lance knew
the contrast should have been absurd; he found it incredibly endearing. He
idly thought that it was perhaps lucky that Marshall couldn't show his true
self for the entire world to see - everybody would fall in love with him,
and that would be bad both for Lance and for boy-bands in general. Here was
a charmer whose potential went wasted, used only behind closed doors among
trusted friends and loved ones. On the other hand, using it on the ones he
held most dear couldn't really be considered waste.

Maybe it was only the fact that he knew Marshall so well that made Lance
think the world of him?  There was such a wonderful thrill in being on the
same level with someone, forming the unique connection that left them
finishing each other's sentences and thinking of the same thing at the same
time. Lance quickly discarded the idea. He already shared an intimate bond
with four other people, but no one had ever touched him with the same
intensity of emotion as Marshall Mathers, the man of many conflicts. When
he'd met him, it had felt like all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into
their places, inspiring awe at how something so complex could be presented
in such a simple, flawless form.

Of course there'd been ups and downs, and some hard times in their
relationship, and Lance had no doubt that there'd be many more in the
future. They were both only human, after all, and it wasn't realistic to
assume that they'd never argue. Lance was also well aware that without the
downs, there wouldn't be any ups either; just steady, empty, uneventful
going that avoided personal growth and any other kind of progress,
development, or change in general.

Meeting Hailie, Lance observed on a tangent, had been an interesting
development. It had been fascinating to watch father and daughter interact,
and the knowledge that this was a sight only the few and privileged were
allowed to behold made it even more precious. And the little princess was a
natural born heartbreaker. She knew exactly the power of her clear,
pleading eyes and winsome smile. Luckily, she wasn't the only one with a
secret weapon. The famous Southern charm did have its uses.

* * *

Marshall was trying to concentrate on the movie, but for several reasons,
he found his mind drifting back into the events of the past few hours. All
had gone well, despite his inexplicably frazzled nerves and tied tongue.

When they'd gone into the other room, finding Hailie from the sofa with her
undivided attention on the TV, it had been Lance who'd gone to Hailie,
introduced himself, and proceeded to make friends with her in an informal,
yet respectful manner that Hallie seemed quite taken with. Marshall had
been too numb and tingly to utter a sound. Yes, HE knew it wasn't possible
to be numb and tingly at the same time, but his body didn't!

In the end, everything had worked out just fine. Marshall couldn't help but
be surprised, even though he'd managed to get through his at times rough
life with his belief that, when it really mattered, things always worked
out, intact.

They had eaten McDonald's hamburgers and fries with extra ketchup, Hailie
daintily, Marshall distractedly, and Lance with relish because he hadn't
eaten junk food in awhile, trying to keep trim.  Marshall thought it was
rubbish, and that Lance should be able to eat anything he felt like eating,
because he was perfect just the way he was. He was glad that Lance seemed
to agree with him, that evening at least.

He was also tired. His body began to feel heavy, and his mind light as they
started to separate for the night's duration. He tried to sharpen up, but
couldn't concentrate on the action on the screen, and his thoughts eluded
his slippery grasp. Slumping down on the sofa, Marshall began to gradually
nod off. Before the last of his consciousness slipped away, he knew there
was something he should remember. Something...

* * *

As the last of the end credits rolled, only one of the three people in the
room was still awake. He watched the other two sleep curled into each
other, struck by the poignancy of his feelings at the sight. They made him
want to stop the world in order to keep them together, and dream of a
little house with a beautifully tended garden, filled with laughter and
warmth.

What he had seen, what Marshall had trusted him enough to let him see, was
a facet of the rapper's life that left Lance feeling humble and honoured,
and also strangely, with more appreciation for himself. If he had earned
the love and trust of this man, what call did he have to belittle himself?

An urgent knock on the door roused Lance from his musings. He glanced at
his watch; it was almost eleven. He wondered why the time was relevant
tonight. Then he remembered. He hesitated, but rose to open the door
anyway. The moment he did so, the person on the other side burst in.

"I'm so sorry, I- Who the hell are you?"

TBC

Oops, I did it again, didn't I? Sorry guys & gals, I just couldn't find a
suitable 'peaceful' place where to end the chapter. I hope no one dies from
suspense before the next chapter!

Comments are greatly appreciated.  Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if
you have time.  Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to
write. I'm especially glad to hear your ideas for the plot. I take requests
if I find them interesting, and I often do.  Thanks for the wonderful
feedback I've received so far!