Date: Wed, 17 Jul 2002 18:36:36 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: thieves - part 16

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

***

"Are we sure we want to do this?" JC asked, standing between Chris and Joey
in the hallway, outside of Wade and Justin's door.

"Yes," the other two answered together, nodding.

"Who's doing the talking?" JC asked. The other two looked at him hopefully.
"Oh, come on you guys. Why is it always me?"

"Because it just always is," Chris said, shrugging.

"We'll do it together," Joey said, smiling. He looked at JC. "Go ahead and
knock."

JC knocked, wondering why he had to do it when they were allegedly doing
this together.  It was always his turn to be the leader, or to be the one
who brought the other guys bad news. If something came down from
management, JC told them. If they lost their vacation, or had to add in
another rehearsal, it was always JC, and if one of them had to be spoken to
about something they'd said or done, it was always JC who had to cushion
the blow. Figuring that Wade and Justin might be in the bedroom already
(actually, he thought, it was practically a given, since they'd been in the
room alone for more than ten minutes), he knocked louder, banging on the
door with his closed fist. The bodyguard in the hall looked at them
curiously, wondering if something might be wrong in Justin's room, but
Chris shook his head, giving him an "everything's ok" gesture.  When they
still didn't answer it, Joey raised a hand began knocking, not stopping
until Wade jerked the door open, bare chested and sweaty, holding a sheet
around his waist.

"What?" he barked as Joey finally lowered his hand.

"We need to talk to you," Joey said.

"And Justin," Chris added. "Both of you."

"Now?" Wade asked incredulously. First Lance was banging on the wall in the
middle of the night, and now the other guys were pounding on the door. What
the hell was going on around here?

"Now," JC answered firmly, pushing his way inside. "Go get Justin, and get
dressed. We need to see both of you."

"Wade?" Justin called from the bedroom, confused.

"We'll be right out," Wade said, pissed. He stalked into the bedroom and
slammed the door behind him. The other three looked at each other, and sat
down, waiting for the two of them to get dressed.

Over in Lance's suite, Mitch stared at him, stunned, as his brain turned
over what Lance had just said.

"You know?" Mitch asked quietly. Lance nodded.

"Yeah, I know," Lance answered.

"How?" Mitch asked. There was no point in denying it. He knew Lance well
enough by now to know he wouldn't lie. Sadly, he couldn't say the same for
himself. "I thought I was careful."

"You were, I think," Lance said. "It was just a little slip, really, and I
only found out because I wanted to do something else for you, something
else to help you.  After the other night, I was thinking about how you
hadn't talked to your family in years. I was thinking about the way you
said they treated you, and how they didn't know what they'd done, didn't
know what they'd driven you to, so I thought I would hire someone to find
them, and that maybe you guys could talk."

"Oh, God," Mitch said, turning away. It figured. Lance, again, had been
trying to do something kind, to do something Mitch would never have
expected, and it had undone him. "I told you I didn't want to talk to
them."

"You told me a lot of things," Lance said. His voice was flat, neutral, and
Mitch couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. "Were any of them
true? Any of them at all? Or was that just a story?"

"No, Lance," Mitch said, hobbling back to the table. If they were going to
have this discussion, the least he could do was look Lance in the eye. He
stood, a few feet away, and stared down at him. "It was true, all of
it. Everything I told you about my friends, and my family, and how I ended
up on the street, it was all true, except for my name."

"I know," Lance said again. He felt a little relieved, knowing that Mitch
hadn't lied about everything. He wondered for a second why he believed him
on that point, when he'd been dishonest about so much else, but for some
reason, he did. "There aren't any Hawks in Alcoa. I thought maybe they'd
sold their house and moved, but you never went to the high schools, either,
not even the private ones. There's no record of you there, anywhere, or
your family. I told them to check again, but it's true. There is no
Mitchell Hawk in Alcoa, and there never has been."

"You would have been ok looking for Jonathan Mitchell Prescott, though,"
Mitch said.  He smiled ruefully. "They've always called me Mitch, because
Jon is also my father's name, and my grandfather's."

"Oh," Lance said, nodding. He wasn't sure what else he should say.

"You knew all day, didn't you?" Mitch asked. Lance nodded. "You knew all
day. It's what you were on the phone about. You probably worked on it
yesterday, too, while I was at the hotel."

Lance nodded again as Mitch turned away, crutching back over toward the
windows.

"You still set all this up, though," Mitch said. "You still lined me up a
job, and kept me here in your room, and didn't treat me any differently,
even though you knew I lied to you. Why, Lance, why did you do that?"

He felt Lance's hand on his shoulder, jumping a little. He hadn't even
heard his chair move. When Lance answered, his voice was soft, but firm.

"I did it because I love you."

JC, Chris, and Joey all looked up as Justin and Wade came walking slowly
out of the bedroom. Wade, wearing a robe and probably nothing underneath,
still looked pissed, but Justin looked a little scared in his pajama pants
and white beater. They all wanted to reassure him, but even Justin could
tell that something serious was wrong if they all came to the door when
they knew what he and Wade were doing.

"What did you need to talk to us about?" Justin asked quietly, looking from
one to the other, trying to read their faces. He sat on the couch next to
Wade, holding Wade's hand tightly in both of his own as Wade ran his other
hand in circles over Justin's back, trying to keep him calm.

"We, um, we," Chris began, and looked to JC, his voice faltering. JC
sighed.

"Justin, there isn't an easy way to say this," JC said, his lips pressed
together into a thin line. "We need to talk to Wade about something, and
you need to hear it, too."

"What?" Wade demanded. "You're upsetting me, and you're upsetting Justin.
Whatever your problem is now, just spit it out."

"Fine," Joey said. "I heard you in the lobby earlier, Wade. I heard
everything you said to Mitch."

"That's none of your fucking business!" Wade said quickly.

"You made it our business!" Joey snapped back. Both of them looked like
they were about to jump out of their chairs.

"Stop, please," Justin said quietly, his eyes darting back and forth
between them. "Why are you shouting? Baby, what did Joey hear?"

"Nothing, Justin," Wade said quickly, hugging him. His eyes dared the
others to challenge him, but they'd had enough. With what they'd heard,
they had all agreed in the lobby that it was time to solve the Wade
problem. "Right, guys?"

"Wrong," Chris said, not smiling. They weren't happy to do this to Justin,
but they were damn happy to be rid of Wade. Wade blinked in surprise, but
JC kept going before he could say anything else.

"Justin, Wade offered Mitch fifty thousand dollars to leave and never talk
to any of us, or Lance, again," JC said, hoping Wade wouldn't make them
share the rest. If he was smart, he would just let this go, and walk
away. "He told Mitch it was from all of us, and let Mitch think that none
of us wanted him here."

"What?" Justin asked, letting go of Wade's hands. He stared at him.

"Justin, baby," Wade began, reaching out for him, and Justin slid back
across the couch.

"You lied?" Justin asked. "You lied to Mitch, and to us? You promised you
would leave it alone, that you would go with what we decided. You promised,
Wade!"

"Justin, I did it for you," Wade said quickly, catching one of Justin's
hands. Justin shook his head in confusion, unsure of who to trust, his
boyfriend or his best friends. "I did it to protect you, Justin. I know I
lied, a little, but I did it because I love you, that's all, because I love
you."

Joey caught JC's eyes, and JC nodded sadly.

"That's not all I heard, Justin," Joey said quietly. "Wade was, um, he."

"Shut up!" Wade screamed. "Just shut up, you fat piece of shit!"

"He came on to Mitch, Justin," Joey said firmly, over Wade's protest and
Justin's sharp gasp at what Wade had just called Joey. "He tried to get
with Mitch, Justin, behind your back and behind Lance's."

"No," Justin whispered, jumping up off of the couch. He backed away from
Wade, shaking his head, but he didn't need to ask. He could see that it was
true, all of it, from the look on Wade's face.

"Justin, please," Wade said, watching Justin's face, realizing that
everything was slipping away and he hadn't even seen it coming. He walked
toward Justin, reaching out again.  "We can talk this out, Justin. If you
just let me explain, just you and me."

"Don't touch me," Justin said coldly. His back hit the wall, and he stood
up straight, staring into Wade's eyes. Wade reached out for him again, and
Justin raised his voice a little. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Baby, don't be like this," Wade said. The others stood, afraid that he
might do something to Justin, might hurt him in some other way. "If we can
just talk."

"I don't want to talk to you," Justin said, shaking his head. His voice was
cold, his eyes dry. "You lied to me. I don't want to talk to you. I don't
want to see you, and I don't want to touch you. I don't want you near
me. I'm going to sleep in JC's room tonight, ok?"

"That's fine," JC said quickly. He wondered why Justin wasn't crying, and
wondered if he might be in shock. Wade, on the other hand, now had tears in
his eyes, his face turning red, and JC wondered if maybe Wade really did
love Justin after all. If he did, he'd blown it.

"Thank you," Justin said, nodding at him. "Wade, I'm going to go now, over
to JC's room, and I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to talk to
you, I don't want to listen to you, and I don't want you to be here in the
morning. You lied to me."

"Justin, please," Wade moaned wretchedly, sinking to his knees in front of
Justin. The four of them stared at him, watching tears run down his cheeks
as he stared up at Justin, waiting for Justin to take him back. JC put a
hand on Justin's shoulder and guided him toward the door.

"Come on, Justin," he said, pulling him gently. Justin moved slowly, like a
sleepwalker.

They stepped into the hallway, and when the room door clicked closed,
cutting off the sight and sound of Wade breaking down, Justin burst into
tears. JC held him tightly, unsure of what else to do.

Mitch turned, staring into Lance's eyes.

"What?" Mitch asked.

"I love you," Lance repeated.

"You don't even know me," Mitch said quietly. "I'm not who you think I am,
Lance."

"Because you didn't tell me your real name?" Lance asked. "It doesn't
matter to me, Mitch. You had a good reason, whatever it was, for what you
did, and it doesn't change who you are, not to me."

Mitch laughed bitterly, stepping away from him.

"It doesn't change who I am?" Mitch asked, laughing. He didn't mean to,
didn't want to, but Lance just didn't seem to understand. "I'm a thief,
Lance. That's who I am. I threw myself in front of your van on purpose so
that I could get close to you."

"What?" Lance asked, stepping away.

"You heard me, Lance," Mitch said sharply. "I was supposed to get close to
you, and gain your trust. Then I was going to get proof that you were gay,
and I was going to blackmail you. I was going to do it for money,
Lance. That's who I am. That's the guy you think you're in love with."

Lance turned away, taking it all in. He knew that Mitch must have had a
reason for lying, for not telling him his real name, but he didn't think it
would be this. He never would have guessed this in a million years.

"That's not who you are," Lance said quietly.

"It is, Lance," Mitch insisted. "Everything else might be a lie, but that's
the truth. I'm a thief. I came to steal from you."

"That isn't the truth, Mitch," Lance argued, shaking his head. "That isn't
the truth. It doesn't have to be."

"Lance, I was going to blackmail you," Mitch said again, wondering if he
just wasn't getting it.

"But you're not going to," Lance said, shaking his head. "You were going
to, but you can't now. You could have gone along with this, could have
stuck around, could have taken the job, but you didn't. You told me the
truth, Mitch."

"You're right," Mitch said, nodding. "But that doesn't change anything,
Lance. Just because I'm not going to blackmail you now doesn't mean
everything is ok. It doesn't suddenly make me the person you think I am."

Lance turned to him again, staring into his blue eyes.

"Mitch, you're already the person I think you are," he said firmly.

"Lance, don't," Mitch said, shaking his head. He felt like he was dying
inside. "Don't see something that isn't there."

"I'm not," Lance said, taking Mitch's arm. He led him toward the couch,
sitting him down and setting his crutches aside. "Mitch, you just told me
that you were going to hurt me, but you didn't. That's not who you
are. You're smart, and funny, and loyal. You're kind, Mitch, and caring. Am
I wrong? Am I?"

"I'm not, I can't hurt you, Lance," Mitch said finally, looking down. Their
hands were linked.

"Then take the job, Mitch," Lance said. "Take the job, and walk away from
whatever this is you were supposed to do. You've already taken the first
step. Please."

Mitch sighed, looking at their hands again.

"Lance, I've never met anyone like you," Mitch said finally. "I've never
met someone who doesn't want anything from me. I don't know what to think,
or how to feel, when you say things like that. Every time I turn around,
you're there, and you just want to help me, and that, I don't know how to
deal with that. Lance, when you talk to me, or when you, you hold my hand,
or touch my arm, I just, I don't know what to do."

He smiled suddenly, snickering.

"Listen to us," Mitch said. "We sound like one of your songs."

"I guess we do," Lance agreed. He looked down at their linked hands as
well, wondering why this was so hard when they obviously cared about each
other. "So, will you do it?  Will you stay here, with us?"

"Why do you want me to stay?" Mitch asked. "Why do you want me to stay here
so badly?"

"I told you already," Lance said, squeezing his hand tightly. "I love
you. I don't care why you came, or what you were doing. I want you to stay,
because I love you."

Mitch swallowed, feeling his hands shake. He looked up, unsure, afraid, and
saw Lance's bright green eyes staring back at him, waiting for him to say
something, anything.  Lance's face was warm, and open, not threatening or
demanding. He let his eyes crawl over it, thinking about the way Lance's
eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way his soft pink lips moved when he
smiled.

"Say that again, Lance, please," Mitch whispered, leaning a little closer,
falling into Lance's eyes.

"I love you," Lance whispered back, leaning forward as well. He could see
how torn Mitch was, how everything was fighting inside of him, but he could
also see that Mitch cared about him, could see the depth of feeling in
Mitch's blue eyes. "I love you."

Their lips finally touched, at last, brushing over each other, pressing
against each other.  Mitch raised a hand to Lance's chest, feeling his
heart hammering under his jacket and shirt. Lance, watching Mitch's eyes
slide closed as his mouth slid open a little, lifted a hand up to catch the
band in Mitch's hair and pull it out, running his fingers through it as it
fell around Mitch's shoulders. Lance closed his own eyes, and felt Mitch's
tongue, tentative, brush his own, darting in and out of his mouth so
quickly that it almost seemed not to have been there at all. They pulled
back, both gasping for air, and Lance saw Mitch's eyes blink open again.

"Love me, Lance," Mitch breathed, his hands sliding up Lance's back as
Lance slid forward to kiss him again, deeper this time, his hand now laced
through Mitch's hair and pulling his head toward him. "Love me."

Lance hooked an arm under Mitch's legs, kicking the crutches aside, and
stood. Mitch wrapped his arms around Lance's neck, neither of them breaking
their kiss, and he moaned into Lance's mouth as Lance carried him into the
bedroom. Dinner sat, forgotten, on the cart as the candles burned in the
empty dining room.

In Justin's suite, Wade had long since finished crying. He thought bitterly
about Mitch, and Joey, and all the rest of them, the smug bastards, the
guys who had never liked him, and never accepted him, as he jammed his
clothes back into his bags. He was going to pack and leave, to get a suite
of his own with the rest of the crew, and then he would work this out. When
he could just talk to Justin again, they would work all of this out.  They
could get past this. Maybe they hadn't fought before, not like this, but
they could work this out, and when they did, he would make sure that the
other guys never got between them, never got in his and Justin's way,
again.

Lance and Mitch twisted on the bed, not struggling, both just trying with
all of their being to touch the other, to feel each other. Their clothes
lay scattered around the bed, and the sheets and bedspread were rumpled
beneath them. Lance couldn't stop touching Mitch, running his hands over
him, feeling the smooth skin of his back, the flex of his arms.  Their legs
tangled together, their calves brushing each other, Mitch's hands sliding
over Lance as well. One of them slid down, brushing past Lance's chest,
caressing his abs briefly, fascinated with the feel of them beneath Lance's
silken skin. He slid it lower, wrapping his fingers around Lance's
throbbing, hard cock, and heard Lance groan.  Stroking him lightly, Mitch
squeezed tightly for a second, and then pushed Lance over onto his back,
his head sliding down Lance's chest, kissing a path down the center of him
as Lance's fingers tangled in Mitch's long hair.

In JC's room, Justin lay on his side on the bed, facing the wall. He had
his arms wrapped around a pillow, holding it to him, and JC sat on the edge
of the bed, rubbing his shoulder gently. He had cried himself out a while
ago, sobbing against JC, but he was mostly finished. Every few minutes he
let out a little sob, or his breath hitched, but his cheeks were dry
beneath his eyes, which were still a little wet.

"Can I get you anything?" JC asked quietly. He had asked before, but as
Justin calmed down he wondered what else he could do for him. When he went
through his own frequent breakups, he got a little depressed, and immersed
himself in his music for a while, but Justin was apparently a crier, and JC
wasn't sure what else he could do to soothe him.

"No," Justin answered quietly. His voice was hoarse, and kind of breathy.

"Do you need to talk about it?" JC asked, still rubbing Justin's shoulder.
Seeing him like this he couldn't imagine how Wade could ever do anything to
hurt him.

"No," Justin answered again, his eyes closed. It felt good just to have
JC's fingers brushing over his shoulder, and to know that his friends were
here and cared about him.  "JC, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Oh, Justin," JC sighed, knowing how much it must hurt Justin to ask him
that. He'd asked JC once before, too, a long time ago, back when they'd
been on the Mickey Mouse Club, and some of the other kids had made fun of
him. "You're not stupid.  You just don't worry about the same things we
do. Different things are important to you, that's all. That doesn't make
you stupid, Justin."

"Do you think Wade thinks I'm stupid?" Justin asked. His voice trembled,
and JC wondered if he was going to start crying again. Maybe he needed to.

"Justin, I think Wade is stupid," JC answered truthfully. Wade would never
find someone else like Justin, someone who believed in everything he said
and loved him unconditionally.

"Me too," Justin said, his voice cracking. He started to cry again, and JC
continued to rub his back and whisper to him that it would be ok.

Mitch crawled back up Lance's body, guided by his moans and sighs, sliding
easily over him. Mitch's hands danced all over Lance's body, pinching,
caressing, and Lance groaned and moaned loudly beneath him, his bass voice
seeming loud enough to make the walls vibrate. He rained kisses down on
Mitch's face and neck and shoulders as Mitch settled above him, and then
Mitch rolled off of him, pulling Lance over on top of him.  Lance ground
himself against Mitch's back, feeling Mitch writhe and press back beneath
him as he kissed and sucked at Lance's shoulders and the sides of his neck,
pushing Mitch's hair aside.

"Lance," Mitch whimpered beneath him, feeling Lance's hard chest against
his back as his throbbing cock slid up and down his ass, pressing into his
crack. "Make love to me.  Please."

"Yes," Lance bellowed, moaning again as Mitch pressed himself against him.
Mitch moaned as well, feeling Lance's need, his urgency.

"Hurry, Lance," Mitch encouraged, as Lance climbed off of him, running
toward the bathroom in search of anything that might serve as
lubricant. When he returned to the bed, Mitch groaned again as he felt
Lance's hands slide all over him, touching him, loving him, and Lance
moaned in response. They were beyond words.

Joey lay in bed in his suite, listening to the sounds coming through the
wall, and giggled.  It sounded like things were going pretty well over in
Lance's suite, and Joey was glad.  Lance deserved to be happy again, after
that mess with Mike. Joey, for a long time, had felt kind of personally
responsible for the bad way that had turned out, since he had set the two
of them up. Maybe now, if Lance could be happy again, Joey could stop
feeling like so much of Lance's unhappiness had been his fault. Maybe Lance
and Mitch could make things work. Joey hoped so, more than anything he
wanted for himself, and, from the sounds of it, they certainly seemed to be
pretty compatible.

As Lance slid inside of Mitch he whispered over and over that he loved him,
and Mitch just sighed in answer, feeling that slow, building pressure as
Lance began to gently thrust into him. Lance ran his hands down Mitch's
arms until he reached his hands, and then he laced their fingers
together. Mitch gripped him tightly, feeling them flex in unison, Lance
pressing above and Mitch straining beneath. Lance fought to slow himself
down, trying to make it last, as Mitch, beneath him, encouraged him to go
faster and harder. Mitch tossed his head back, flexing up from the
mattress, and Lance latched onto the side of his neck, sucking and biting,
both of them groaning and sighing. Lance's chest, his nipples hard, scraped
over Mitch's writhing back, and both of them were slick with sweat.

In his room, Chris stared at the ceiling and wondered if God had cursed him
somehow.  He'd lost the round two hotels in a row, having to sleep by
Justin and Wade again, but he'd started to think earlier that he might
actually get a full night's rest. He hadn't planned, though, on the noise
coming from the other side of the paper thin walls, as Mitch and Lance were
apparently determined to make up for the absence of groaning in Chris's
suite. He was happy for Lance, he really was, but if there was ever a time
when he wished that he owned earplugs, it was now. Then again, it could be
worse.  If Justin and Wade were in their room, he'd be trying to sleep
through this from both sides.

"Five star hotel my ass," he grumbled, reaching for another pillow to press
against the side of his head. "Walls are made of fucking construction
paper."

When Lance woke up, the first thing he did, before he opened his eyes, was
reach for Mitch, sliding his hand over the mattress, looking for the warm,
smooth shoulder that he knew was over there. Last night had been
amazing. He and Mitch had made love for hours, in and out of each other,
before they finally finished, and drifted off to sleep. It had been a long
time since someone had touched Lance that way out of love, had wanted him
with his heart instead of just his body, and he could only imagine that for
Mitch it had been the same. Now, he wanted to kiss him awake, to hold him
close, and tell him that he loved him and that everything would be ok. His
hand, though, only found empty mattress, and the sheet was cold.

"Mitch?" Lance asked, opening his eyes. The bed was empty.

Lance sat up, looking around the room, and listening. He didn't hear
anything out in the suite room, but the bedroom door was closed. There was
no sound coming from the bathroom, either, but if Mitch was soaking in the
tub he wouldn't make a lot of noise.  Lance climbed out of bed, picking up
his boxer briefs out of the tangle of his clothes on the floor, and he
noticed that Mitch's clothes weren't there.

"No," Lance said quietly, shaking his head.

Lance walked quickly into the suite room, where the table was still set,
the food still untouched on the cart. Mitch wasn't there. The bathroom door
was open, but the lights were off, the bathroom dark. He walked back into
the bedroom, jerking the closet open, and saw that Mitch's bags, the beat
up duffel bag and the shoulder bag Chris had given him, were missing. He
picked up his shirt and pants off of the floor and hastily pulled them
on. As he did so, his eyes skated across the dresser, and he saw his wallet
sitting on top, opened.

"No, Mitch, please no," Lance said quietly again, knowing that Mitch
couldn't hear him.  He jerked open the door of the suite and spotted the
guard in the hallway, reading the paper in his chair by the elevators. "Did
you see Mr. Hawk go out?"

"Yes, Mr. Bass," the guard answered, nodding. "He left several hours ago."

"Did he say anything?" Lance asked, hearing his voice rising, but unable to
control it.  "Did he say anything about where he was going?"

"No, I'm sorry," the guard said. Chris opened his door, looking sleepily
into the hallway.  "Is everything all right, Mr. Bass?"

"Lance?" Chris asked, wondering what time it was. Lance turned to him, and
Chris saw that Lance was about to break. His lip trembled, and he was pale,
chalk white.

"Mitch is gone, Chris," Lance said, shaking his head as if to negate it.
"He's gone."

***

To be concluded.