Date: Sun, 30 Jun 2002 17:11:20 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: thieves - part 6

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.

***

They ate breakfast quietly, the four of them glancing at each other, Mitch,
Lance, and Joey focused on their plates and JC watching them over his
coffee. He wasn't really hungry enough to eat an entire extra meal, unlike
Joey, who always seemed to have room to pack in a little more. Being the
only one not eating gave JC an opportunity to observe the others a little
more closely, and he could see what had Joey a little worried. When Lance
looked at Mitch, yes, there was concern there, but there was also something
else, not love or even just lust, but something. If he had to put a name to
it, JC would have said schoolboy crush, but it didn't seem even that
serious. There was definitely a little spark of some kind, but was it just
friendship, or was Lance setting himself up for a hard fall?

Even more interesting, though, was watching Mitch, and the way he looked at
Lance.  When Joey or JC spoke to him, he looked at the two of them
carefully, obviously guarded, and JC wondered what he was holding
back. Granted, he didn't know any of them very well, and he might just
naturally not be a trusting person, but the best word JC could think of to
describe his behavior was "careful". There was something else that seemed
odd to JC, too, and that was that when he looked at Lance, he did look
grateful, and thankful, as expected, but he was holding back there as
well. The scene earlier between him and Mitch had seemed so real, so
genuine, but now JC just got a nagging feeling that something didn't quite
line up. With nothing but a nagging, vaporous suspicion, though, he didn't
feel comfortable saying anything. The whole situation was just too weird,
and he didn't want to risk alienating Mitch or Lance, making any of it
worse.

"So what are you doing today?" Lance asked Joey. They had sound checks
before the concert later, but the day was free before that.

"I told Justin and Wade I would take them to a show," Joey answered. "Chris
is supposed to be coming, too, but I guess we have to see how he's
doing. What are you doing today?"

"I'm not sure," Lance said, remembering the plans he and JC had made the
night before.  He glanced awkwardly at Mitch. "I was going to do some stuff
with JC, but."

"We don't have to if you don't want to," JC said quickly. "It can wait for
another day."

"Are you sure?" Lance asked, not wanting JC to feel ditched, but not sure
about Mitch, either. After all, they had been planning to go shopping, and
it's not like Mitch had any extra money.

"Totally," JC said, nodding.

"Lance," Mitch said quietly, not sure if it was his place to interject or
not. "Go ahead and hang out with JC. Don't worry about me."

"What are you gonna do?" Lance asked, not wanting to just leave him here to
watch television.

"You can come with us," JC offered, thinking that it would give him a
little more time to get to know Mitch, and get a feel for him.

"I'll be gone," Mitch said quickly. "I'm leaving after breakfast."

The other three stared at him in surprise, JC a little relieved, Joey a
little concerned, and Lance feeling something sink inside him. He knew that
Mitch didn't want to stay, didn't like having to take things from him, but
he didn't expect him to be gone so soon. He turned to JC and Joey, and then
at Mitch, setting his plate aside as he started to stand.

"Mitch, could we, um, could I talk to you in the other room for a second?"
Lance asked.  Mitch nodded, reaching for his crutches, and he took Lance's
outstretched hand as Lance helped him up from the chair. "Guys, would you
excuse us for a second, please?"

"Sure," JC answered, wondering what they were going to talk about, but
suddenly sure that the discussion would end with Mitch staying at least
another night.

"Actually, I have to go, anyway," Joey said. He held out his hand to Mitch,
who took it, and they shook, both smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Mitch,
and Lance, I guess I'll see you later."

"Sure," Lance said, patting him on the shoulder. He turned to JC as Mitch
crutched carefully into the bedroom, wondering how long it was going to
take himself to get used to walking with these things. "We'll be right
back."

Lance closed the door behind him, and waited for Mitch to get comfortable
on the edge of the bed. Mitch leaned back on his arms a little, letting
Lance's t-shirt pull across his chest, and Lance crossed his arms and stood
casually against the door.

"Did I say do something wrong?" Mitch asked, a lock of his hair falling
down over his forehead. He pushed it back, watching Lance's eyes follow his
arm. "Did I say something wrong to your friends?"

"No, no," Lance said quickly, realizing that he was setting the completely
wrong tone. He crossed the room, sitting next to Mitch on the bed. "I
wanted to talk to you, now, before we do anything else. We were going to do
it after breakfast, but after what you just said I didn't think we should
wait."

"What did I say?" Mitch asked, knowing full well what had brought this on.
He was already pretty adept at pushing Lance's buttons, and it had only
been a day.

"That you were leaving," Lance said. "Mitch, I thought about this last
night, and again this morning. I know we said at the hospital last night
that we would decide one day at a time, and I guess you decided that since
you're ok, you only wanted to stay one day."

"Well, yeah," Mitch said, shrugging. "Lance, I told you last night, I don't
want anything from you. You wanted to make up for what you did, and as far
as I'm concerned, you have. I told your friend JC that this morning, too."

"What did he say to you?" Lance asked, his eyes narrowing a little. Had JC
said something to make Mitch want to leave?

"Nothing bad, Lance," Mitch said quickly. It was too early in their
friendship for him to start putting in wedges between Lance and his
friends. "He just asked about last night, and about what I was going to do
now, and I realized, Lance, that I don't belong here.  This isn't my life,
and it's been nice stopping in, but you and I are square, and I should go."

"Go where?" Lance asked quietly. "Back out there?"

"Yeah, Lance, back out there," Mitch said, nodding. He knew they'd already
played this scene last night, but he and Keith had talked about this. He
couldn't appear too eager to stay, and it had to be Lance's idea.

"And what if something happens to you?" Lance asked. "What if something
else happens to you, and it's my fault?"

"Why would it be your fault?" Mitch asked.

"Mitch, I'm not stupid," Lance said. "I know that it's not always safe out
there. I know that sometimes you get into trouble. I mean, why were you
running out of the alley last night?"

Mitch paused. He and Keith actually hadn't thought of this, although it
seemed like an obvious question in retrospect. Following the conversation,
though, it was clear what kind of answer he should give.

"I was running from someone," Mitch said, swallowing. "This guy was chasing
me."

"What did he want?" Lance asked, taking Mitch's hand without thinking about
it.

"I don't know," Mitch said squeezing Lance's hand. His skin was soft, but
his grip was kind of firm, and he gently brushed his thumb over the
back. Lance didn't seem to notice, as far as Mitch could tell, but he
actually felt a little shiver go up his arm. "I didn't have anything, but
he probably didn't know that. I was sleeping, and he just, I don't know,
grabbed me, and I jumped up and I ran."

"And you can't run now," Lance said, pointing at Mitch's leg. "That's the
point I'm trying to make, Mitch. You can't run from somebody on
crutches. You can't take care of yourself if you're injured. If I let you
go now, and something happens to you, it'll be my fault."

"But you won't even know about it," Mitch said, looking down. "I mean, it's
not like it would make the papers, Lance. I'm nobody."

Hearing Mitch say that made Lance want to help him all the more. How much
did a person have to go through to be so defeated?

"That's not true, Mitch," Lance said, squeezing his hand tightly. "And even
if I didn't hear about it, that doesn't mean it's ok. Do you see my point,
though?"

"I guess," Mitch said, frowning. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, like I said, I thought about this last night," Lance began, hoping
Mitch would say yes. "I want you to stay with me until your leg is healed."

"But you're on tour," Mitch said.

"Come with us!" Lance said, smiling. "I mean, it's not much different from
what you do now, moving around, and you'll be safe. When your leg is fixed,
I'll take you wherever you want to go, but until then, I want you to stay
with me."

"And you don't want anything?" Mitch asked, leaning in a little
closer. "You don't want anything from me, anything at all?"

"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "I just want to help. Say you'll stay?"

Mitch waited for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a string here,
because there always was. The guys who had picked him up always wanted sex
in exchange for the room for the night. Even Keith, his friend, had only
taken him off the street because Mitch had agreed to work with him on the
con jobs, extorting money from businessmen who didn't want pictures of them
screwing Mitch sent to their families. This job with Lance wasn't the same
thing, exactly, but still, Lance must want him. A major point of the plan
was gaining Lance's trust by pretending to love him, and since Mitch had
nothing else to offer Lance, it had to be sex he was after. He couldn't
just want to help, because no one did. The people at the shelters fed you,
but they usually wanted to talk to you about God, or give you a speech
about something, and you took it if you wanted the meal. Lance wanted to
have sex with Mitch, but he just musn't realize that Mitch was open to it.

"Sure, I'll stay," Mitch answered, dropping his hand onto Lance's thigh.
"But I mean it, Lance. I'll do anything you want to make up for
this. Anything."

"You don't have to do anything," Lance said quickly, standing. He felt his
face coloring.  Why was Mitch touching him like that? Had his hand just
happened to land there, or had there been something else? "Come on, let's,
um, let's not leave JC sitting alone out there.  He probably thinks we're
rude."

"Yeah, sure," Mitch said absently, watching Lance walk away. He got his
crutches back under his arms and followed Lance out into the suite room,
where JC was still sitting.  "I'm going to hit the bathroom, ok?"

"Sure," Lance answered, opening the door and smiling at JC.

"Everything ok?" JC asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Lance looked relieved, and Mitch appeared to be thinking pretty hard about
something as he crutched into the bathroom. Maybe he was just concentrating
on not falling down.

"Yeah," Lance answered, smiling. "Mitch is going to stay with me until his
leg is healed, ok?"

"You don't need my permission for that, Lance," JC said, not really
surprised. "You make your own decisions."

"I know," Lance said. "But I know that you and Mitch talked this morning,
while Joey and I did, and I just wanted to know if I had your approval. And
it wasn't Mitch's idea. It was mine. I just, I want to help him, JC. I know
Joey will back me on it, but it would mean a lot to know you do, too."

JC thought about it for a second. He knew that Lance wanted to help people,
and he wanted to help Mitch, too. After he'd heard the pain in his voice
this morning, it was hard not to reach out to him. He wanted to believe
everything Mitch said, and he wanted to trust him as fully as Lance seemed
to, but there was still that little tickle in the back of his mind, that
little insistence that everything wasn't quite as simple as it
seemed. Looking at Lance, though, and seeing how much this meant to him, JC
didn't have the heart to tell him no. Besides, he'd be able to keep an eye
on Mitch if he was with them much better than he would be able to from a
distance. If Mitch did mean them any harm, with the press or a lawsuit or
whatever, it would be fairly difficult to surprise them with it if he was
right here.

"Of course you have my approval, Lance," JC said, smiling. "If there's
anything I can do to help, please, let me know."

"Thanks," Lance said, hugging him.

"Am I interrupting something?" Mitch asked, smiling, from the doorway.

"No, no," JC said, laughing. "We're just having a moment. Come finish your
breakfast."

Mitch settled himself carefully back in his chair. He knew that in a few
days it wouldn't be so bad trying to move around, but he just couldn't seem
to get the hang of the crutches, and the leg hurt anytime he touched it to
something. Until it leveled off a little, or he got more of the painkillers
circulating through his bloodstream, he was just going to have to keep
moving a little gingerly, like he had been. On the plus side, though, it
just made him look more needy and sympathetic to Lance, and he was pretty
sure that was the way to go. Every time he winced, Lance was right on him,
but Keith had figured that would work when he explained this whole thing to
Mitch.

"So what were you guys going to do today?" Mitch asked, watching Lance
finish up his breakfast as JC poured another cup of coffee. Did the guy eat
anything at all?

"We had planned on doing a little shopping," JC said, immediately realizing
that it sounded wrong as Mitch's face fell a little. "But mainly we were
just going to go walk around and get some air before we had to get ready
for tonight."

"Yeah," Lance added quickly. "I wasn't even planning to buy anything,
really. Do you want to come? We're just going to relax, and we should get
you some pants, anyway."

"I already have pants," Mitch said, pointing at the laundry pile.

"But I owe you a pair," Lance said. "To replace the ones we had to cut for
the cast."

"But you gave me these," Mitch said, gesturing down at the warmup pants he
was wearing, his cast sticking out of the side where the leg was
unbuttoned.

"And those are fine while you have the cast," Lance said, nodding. "But
when you get it off, those aren't exactly right. I mean, they don't even
have pockets.  Besides, remember what we talked about? No arguing, ok?"

"Are you sure?" Mitch asked, looking at Lance, but aware that JC was
watching the whole thing.

"Yes, I'm sure," Lance said. "I owe you some pants, and you don't have to
pay me back for them. It's even trade for the pair in the garbage."

When he mentioned the garbage, Lance jerked a thumb back toward the
bedroom, and JC's eyebrow went up.

"I thought the doctor cut them?" he asked, confused.

"They cut the leg off," Mitch explained. "But then when we got back here I
couldn't get them down over the cast when I was getting in the tub, so
Lance cut them the rest of the way off."

JC looked at Mitch, his mouth dropping open a little in surprise. Lance had
cut his clothes off of him in the bathroom, and they both said nothing was
going on? If that was true, he'd be willing to bet that something would be
going on soon at that rate.

"Why don't we brush our teeth and meet up down in the lobby?" Lance asked
quickly, changing the subject. The memory of last night, kneeling in front
of Mitch and cutting his pants just inches from his crotch, left him
feeling a little flushed, and he didn't want to dwell on it. "JC, could you
get us a car and bodyguard for the day?"

"Yeah, sure," JC said, finishing his third cup of coffee. He really hadn't
had enough breakfast with the other guys for this, and felt it swirling
acidly in his stomach. He grabbed a bagel on his way out of the suite.

When Lance came out of the bathroom he found Mitch in the bedroom, going
through his beat up green duffel bag intently. Next to him, on the bed, was
a small pile of a few very crumpled bills, and some coins. Lance watched as
Mitch pulled another quarter out, and carefully added it to the pile next
to him.

"Mitch?" he asked.

"Hey," Mitch said, smiling. He picked up the little wad of money and tried
to smooth the bills out a little. "I just realized this outfit doesn't have
any pockets.  Will you carry this for me?"

"Sure," Lance said, taking it. There was barely five dollars in the pile,
and he wanted to ask Mitch if this was all the money he had, but didn't
want to embarrass him. "Are you looking for anything in particular? At the
mall, I mean."

"No," Mitch said, following Lance toward the suite door. "I just, you know,
thought I might want some lunch while we were there."

"Mitch, I'll get your lunch," Lance said. He put up a hand before Mitch
could say anything else. "No, Mitch. You're my guest. If I want to buy your
lunch later, I'm buying you lunch, and it would be rude of you to
refuse. If you feel really bad about it, add it to the list of things
you'll pay me back for later."

"OK," Mitch said, looking down. He surprised Lance by reaching out
suddenly, and wrapping him up in a hug. After a second, Lance hugged him
back, and he couldn't help but noticed how warm and tight Mitch's body
seemed against his own. "Thanks, Lance.  Thank you so much."

"It's nothing," Lance said, stepping back quickly, afraid that he was
getting hard. He knew that wasn't why Mitch was hugging him, but Mitch was
so cute, and his body felt so natural pressed against his. Mitch watched
Lance try to nonchalantly adjust himself, and bit back a smile. In the
elevator, a thought popped into Lance's head.  "Mitch, what do you do for
money? I mean, I'm just asking, because I'm curious."

"I don't really want to talk about it," Mitch said quickly, looking away.
The money Lance was carrying for him had, of course, come from Keith, and
from blackmail, but when he'd really been on the streets, he had done other
things for money, and those were the kind of answers his character should
give. They were also the kind of answers he didn't like to talk about,
though.

They joined JC in the lobby, and spent most of the day at the mall. They
couldn't exactly speed through the stores, what with Mitch on the crutches,
but they made a pretty good pace, and he found himself genuinely enjoying
their company. Despite being who they were, they really were just down to
earth, nice guys, and neither of them seemed to mind taking breaks when
Mitch wanted to sit for a minute. The bodyguard paced them the whole time,
keeping a little distance, but staying more than close enough to be there
if anyone recognized them, although that seemed unlikely. Mitch wouldn't
have believed that a hat and sunglasses could really work that well, but
nobody seemed to realize who they were.

JC and Lance, both clotheshorses of the highest degree, didn't buy much, as
every time they looked at something and realized what it cost they would
look to the front of the store, at Mitch. Mitch, for his part, tried to
stay out of their way, not looking at much in particular, just kind of
taking in the scene, but he knew that the two of them felt guilty shopping
in front of the homeless guy, even if it wasn't true. When Lance decided to
buy his pants, Mitch led them deliberately out of the stores Lance was used
to, explaining that they were too expensive, and he could tell that JC
noticed. When they did start looking, Mitch kept leading Lance to the sale
racks to look for pants there, before Lance put his foot down and finally
insisted that Mitch just take whatever pants he felt like buying, and that
the price really wasn't that important.

After they bought the pants, Mitch carrying the bag gratefully despite
having to manage it and his crutches, and refusing repeatedly to let one of
them carry it, they went to the food court for lunch. JC headed off to get
something from the Chinese place, but Mitch wouldn't pick a restaurant,
telling Lance that wherever he wanted to eat was fine. Lance agreed to
this, but was starting to feel a little annoyed. He knew Mitch didn't want
to take anything extra from him, but this was a little extreme. He didn't
want to bring it up in front of JC, but the two of them definitely needed
to talk about it at some point. Mitch finished eating before the other two,
hunched over his food, eating quickly and finishing everything, and then
leaned over toward Lance and quietly asked for his money.

"Did you want something else?" Lance asked, only halfway through his own
meal. "I can go get you something else if you're still hungry."

"No, no," Mitch said, shaking his head. "I just, I need to go buy something
else, ok? I'll be right back."

"OK," Lance said, handing him the few folded bills. He and JC watched him
crutch away, still carrying the bag with the pants in it.

"He's a quiet one," JC said, nodding to their bodyguard to let him know it
was ok for Mitch to go by himself. No one would bother him.

"I feel really bad," Lance said, looking at his plate. JC looked up, and
saw that Lance's eyes were a little wet.

"Lance?" JC asked. "Lance, what's wrong?"

"Did you see the way he ate, JC?" Lance asked, gesturing at the empty
plate.  "He ate everything on his plate, JC, like he didn't know when he'd
eat again. And did you see that way he hunched over it like that? It's
sad. It's really sad that someone could live their whole life like that. I
feel so bad for him."

"I do, too," JC admitted, sighing. "I mean, every time I looked at
something today, I thought about the green jacket he had on the laundry
stack in your room. How can I spend two thousand dollars on a leather coat
in front of him, when that coat is all he has?"

"I want to help him so much, JC," Lance said, looking around to make sure
Mitch wasn't coming back. "I mean, not just with the leg. I really want to
help him. He's smart, and funny. I know you haven't really seen it, but we
talked so much last night, and I just feel like he needs a chance. He needs
a break, and if I send him back out onto the street when this is over, its
like I'm sending him to, I don't know, off to his doom or something."

"Well, Lance, have you talked to him about it?" JC asked, concerned. Lance
seemed so passionate about this, and while he wanted to help, too, he
didn't want Lance to get taken.  Then again, Lance had to fight all day to
get Mitch to accept anything from him.

"Not yet," Lance said. "I mean, you see the way he is. He doesn't like
having to accept charity, and if I tell him that, I think he's just going
to see it as pity.  I want to help him, but I just don't know how, not
without insulting him."

"What if we gave him a job?" JC asked. "What if we gave him a job, and paid
him for it?"

"That's a great idea!" Lance said, smiling. JC smiled, too, seeing Lance's
whole face change. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. You think it'll
work?"

"I don't see why not," JC said, shrugging. "I mean, he doesn't seem lazy or
anything.  Why wouldn't he want a job?"

"Thanks, JC!" Lance said, squeezing his hand. "Thanks so much!"

"Hey, that's what friends are for," JC said, shrugging. "Now we just have
to figure out what we can have him do."

"Yeah, but let me talk to him about it," Lance said. "After we know what
we're doing."

"OK," JC said, looking up. "He's coming back, so I guess ixnay on this for
now."

"Yeah," Lance said, nodding. The two of them looked up innocently as Mitch
returned to the table. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, fine," Mitch answered, wondering what they'd been talking
about. He'd stuck the bag inside his pants bag, figuring that it would be
the kicker in getting Lance to go for him. He just needed to wait until
later. Timing, as Keith always said, was everything.

After lunch they did some more shopping, and then went to another mall.
Getting bored with the whole mall thing after a while, they went all the
way across town to the village, where Lance knew some smaller stores, and
looked at clothes there. Mitch, as he had at the mall, didn't really look
at anything, but just kind of took in the scene. He didn't ask for
anything, and Lance didn't offer anything, but he was sure that at least a
few of the things Lance purchased were meant for him. He also had a lot of
fun watching JC pick out clothing, as his style tended a little more toward
the odd, and if he had to pick the gay one out of the two of them, he would
have pegged it as JC over Lance. He knew from Keith's notes that it was the
other way around, but really, JC just wore too many tiger prints and too
much glitter for a straight guy.

Mitch's musings on this were interrupted when JC and Lance's phones both
started beeping at the same time. Both of them switched them off and began
walking toward the car.

"Guys?" Mitch asked, confused.

"Those were our alarms," Lance explained.

"We have to get over to the arena," JC said. "We have soundchecks, and then
we'll eat dinner there before the show."

"We're not going back to the hotel?" Mitch asked, making sure he didn't
look disappointed.

"No," Lance said. "I thought you could come to the concert. Did you need
anything from the suite?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Mitch said quickly. He'd been hoping he could have some
time alone to look around in the suite because he suddenly just wanted to
finish this, to get it over with.

"Sure?" JC asked. "You don't need your pills or anything?"

"No, I'm good," Mitch lied. He should have taken the pills excuse, but it
was just as likely that they would call someone to bring them to the arena
as it was that they would send him back to get them.

When they arrived at the arena, Lance took Mitch aside as JC headed into
the back to get into his wireless microphone. Leading him to a seat off to
the side, Lance sat down beside Mitch.

"If you stay over here, you should be out of the way, and you'll be able to
see us," Lance said. "It's not much of a show, but the fans like it. I'll
come get you for dinner, ok?"

"Sure," Mitch answered. "Good luck."

"It's just a soundcheck, but thanks," Lance said, meeting Mitch's smile
with his own before turning and walking away.

Mitch watched as the five guys took their places out on stage, walking
around in casual clothes and doing a line or a verse when they were
prompted to. There were about thirty fans watching from the front seats,
cheering each time one of the guys walked past them, and the guys smiled
and waved at them. From his seat, he could just barely see Wade over on the
other side of the stage, watching him like a hawk, and Wade didn't return
his wave. That could be a problem. Looking back at the stage, Mitch
breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that Chris seemed none the worse from
his ordeal last night. Mitch had been against drugging him, and had worried
all day that there would be some sort of after effects, but Chris was
walking around like he was fine.

He was so intent on watching Chris that he didn't hear Keith coming up
behind him until he spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mitchell?"

***

To be continued.