Date: 15 Apr 2000 18:44:31 -0700
From: lancegasm@canada.com
Subject: Those Eyes 1

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and does not mean to imply
anything about the sexuality of Lance Bass of *N SYNC.  If you are too
young to be reading this material, then don't (or just don't get caught
doing it, because let's face it... you'll do it anyway if you want to).
Also, if you are offended by anything M/M (why are you here?) then don't
read it.

Any questions or comments can be directed to Aiken at lancegasm@canada.com.
If you like this, let me know.  If you don't, let me know too, but please
let me know *why* so I can try and fix it.

OK, that's enough of pointless babble.  Let's get on with things.

Those Eyes 1

The best advice I've ever received was given to me by my baby sister
Gracie.  She told me, "Never let Little Mr. Helmet Head do the thinking for
you."  After getting over the initial shock of hearing sweet, innocent
Gracie talking like that (and after resisting the urge to wash her mouth
out with soap) I saw just how sound that advice was.  Thinking with the
wrong part of your anatomy was just asking for trouble.  I hadn't even
realized that I was doing it, not until Gracie pointed it out.

I had just left another empty relationship and had, as usual, gone to
Mallory's Bar to deal with it the only way I knew how.  I got completely
plastered.  Not exactly the healthiest way to forget about the pain, but
certainly the quickest.  Gracie picked me up when Mallory called her, since
I was in no condition to drive.  On the way home, she proceeded to lecture
me, raising points such as, "which one of us is 18 years old?' and "weren't
you the one who yelled at me last time I got drunk?"  She's a smart little
cookie, Gracie.

We get along great, better than the average brother and sister.  She's my
best friend.  She's always supported me, no matter what.  When I came out,
she was the first person I told.  I was so damn scared that I was
practically shaking, but all Gracie did was blink twice and then ask me
what was so wrong with being gay?  And then she made a joke about us being
able to find each other men.

My parents didn't take the news so well, but I know that they love me.  Mom
was really disappointed because she wouldn't have any "little red haired
grandchildren," and Dad... well Dad was a little mad.  Even now I'm not
sure if he understands, but we're not fighting anymore and I guess that's
what counts.  I think that Gracie, the apple of my father's eye, Daddy's
Little Girl, had something to do with that.

It was because of Gracie that I was now running through the grocery store,
trying to find the Belgian Chocolate cake mix.  Her birthday was tomorrow,
and I had promised to bake her a cake, since our parents were out of town
for the third year in a row.  I'm afraid I don't fit the typical gay
stereotype, and I can't really bake.  Since Gracie has this thing with
homemade cakes, she is now stuck with Betty Crocker, the only woman I've
ever truly loved..

I had an hour to get back home and bake the cake before I had to get to the
studio.  I was short on time and not really in the mood to be bothered by
anyone - fan or not.  I'm a voice actor, and somewhat of a local celebrity.
I've voiced sixteen different animated characters in the last ten years,
and though I've been busy, it's an interesting career. Who else gets paid
to just show up, make funny voices, and leave?

I ran around a corner into the baking aisle and came up against something
solid and I nearly fell to the floor.  I looked over to see what I had run
into and met a pair of light green eyes. They were wide and surprised.

"I'm sorry."  A deep voice said.  "I really should have been looking where
I was going."  I just stared at him, a little mesmerized.  I had never seen
eyes that green.  And his voice...  Mine was a little high (my nickname
growing up was Chipmunk) so I had always had a thing for deep voices...
but his eyes were what really had me.  After a moment, I realized that I
was being rude and snapped myself out of my trance.

"No, it's my fault."  I said, reaching down and picking up the package of
spaghetti and the can of tomato paste that the guy with the incredible eyes
had dropped.  I handed them back to him.  "I really should look where I'm
going.  I was just in a rush."  He laughed, and I clenched my jaw.  He had
a nice laugh.

"So was I."  He said.  "I'm Lance."  I took his offered hand and shook it,
making sure not to squeeze too hard, but not to lightly as well.  I've
always been a little confused about just how much pressure to apply while
shaking someone's hand.  My father always told me that a firm handshake was
the key to a solid relationship.  My mother always cautioned me that too
firm a handshake would intimidate people and make them a little wary of me.
I hoped that I was doing this right.

"I'm Quinn."  I said, offering a half-smile.  I wasn't paying attention to
anyone who was passing by, and didn't realize that there was a little girl
standing behind me, talking to her mother in hushed tones.

"It's Billy the Bear!"  The little girl said, pointing at me.  I turned and
waved at her over my shoulder.  I was surprised that someone so young had
been able to recognize my voice.  Billy The Bear was from a movie I had
worked on a year and a half ago.  It was the only character that I used my
actual voice for.  All the rest were a little lower or higher pitched.  I
knelt down beside the little girl and talked to her for a few minutes,
temporarily forgetting my pretty-eyed stranger with the spaghetti and
tomato paste.  I always was a sucker for children and even though I didn't
have the time to be bothered, I still wanted to talk to her.  I was too
late to start baking the cake anyway, so what did it hurt?

"Meghan, we have to let the nice man get back to his shopping now."  The
little girl's mother said.  The little girl waved sadly.

"Bye bye Billy."  She said as her mother led her away.  I laughed and
waved.  When I turned around again to talk to the blonde guy with the
incredible eyes he was gone.  I was a little disappointed for sure, but I
got over it quickly.  After all, I had just run this guy down in the baking
aisle.  He had no obligation to stay and chat, especially when we were both
running late.  So I continued up the aisle, looking for the box of cake
mix.  As I was on my way to the cash register, I couldn't get him out of my
mind.  I knew that I was definitely thinking with the wrong part of my
anatomy right now, and Gracie wouldn't approve.  But dammit, Gracie has
never seen those eyes!

***

"And we're back for another Britney Free Weekend with Gracie Klitcher!"
Gracie hit a button on the control panel and the jingle for her Britney
Free Weekend started to play.  She worked the weekend shift at a small
radio station that got most of it's ratings on the weekends when she was on
the air.  "We're going to be taking your requests all weekend long, so
start sending those E-mails, faxes and get on the telephone.  Starting
things off is a request by... well it's what I want to hear, so I guess it
doesn't really count as a request.  Here's the Timbaland remix of Bye Bye
Bye."

***

I looked over to the radio and smiled.  I had spent the day with Gracie at
the studio once, and she was so predictable it was sad.  Right about now
she would be pacing back and forth and maybe watching the switchboard light
up.  No doubt her requests were mostly for hard rock, maybe a little rap
mixed in for good measure.  I decided to liven things up for her.

Excusing myself from my new boss' tour for a quick second I made my way
over to the fax machine and quickly scribbled my request down.  I sent it
off and rejoined my group.

***

"Hey Gracie, someone just requested Oops I did It Again!"  Jason called
from the next room.  He held up the fax.  Gracie shook her head and stepped
out of the booth long enough to take the piece of paper from her boyfriend.
She laughed when she saw the name on the bottom of the sheet, Q.  Klitcher.
Taking a seat in her swivel chair, Gracie waited patiently for the song to
finish.  When it did. She leaned toward the mic.

"If any of you see Quinn Klitcher today, hit him hard. He's just requested
Oops I Did It Again.  Now, the next song up is That Song by Big Wreck.
Enjoy."  The song was cued and Gracie pushed her chair back and stood up
again.

"What do you think they'll do when they see Quinn?"  Jason asked as he
leaned against a wall and watched Gracie pace the booth.

"They'll probably make him wish he never decided to be a smart ass."
Gracie laughed.  "Nah seriously, I doubt anyone will find him.  He's at the
studio today.  He's getting the grand tour before he starts work on Monday.
They might even start laying down some of the voice tracks today, but I
doubt it."

"And what is Quinn working on now?  A talking sea horse?  Or maybe a
snake?"  Jason asked.

"Don't make fun of my brother, Jason."  Gracie said.  "He's the hardest
working man I know of.  And he loves his job, so stop."

"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it."  Jason exclaimed, raising his hands in
a gesture of surrender.  "I just wanted to know what he was voicing this
time."

"It's an eagle."  Gracie said as she returned to her booth with another
stack of requests to be played.

***

"Quinn, are you paying attention?"  Andrew Simcoe, my boss, asked as he
snapped his fingers in front of my face.  I immediately snapped out of my
trance and blushed, wondering how long I had been off in my own little
world.

"Sorry Andrew."  I said sheepishly.  "I was just thinking."  I could tell
that he was going to ask me about what, and I really didn't want to have to
tell him that while he had been explaining important things that I should
know, probably where the fire exits were, I was thinking about two pale
green eyes that belonged to an absolute stranger.  I doubted that it would
go over well.  Luckily, I was saved by some young kid who looked as though
he belonged in a detention center.  He had piercings where there definitely
shouldn't have been any, and more eye makeup than Tammy Faye Baker had ever
contemplated wearing.  This freaky looking kid punched me in the shoulder.

"Tommy, what the hell was that for!"  Andrew yelled.  I was a little
surprised that clean cut Andrew Simcoe knew this kid, but I didn't say
anything.  I only rubbed my bruised shoulder and silently thanked the kid
for his interruption.

"His sister said to do it."  Tommy shrugged and walked away, running his
fingers through his tangled hair.  It was kind of cute to see that Gracie
had a following, when all she was doing was weekends on a small station.
Even if those followers did beat on me.

"I'm sorry about that."  Andrew said apologetically.  "I don't know what
gets into him sometimes.  He's the voice of Bastian."  I raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't seem the 'happy little bunny' type." I said, trying to picture
the boy who had just punched me as the quiet and shy grey bunny rabbit who
was the main character of the movie.

"I know, I was shocked at first but he can do the voice so we can't
complain."  Andrew said as we all continued on our tour.  "His cousin works
here, so he already knows his way around."  I nodded and did my best to
look interested as Andrew showed the group the important things... like the
coffee maker and the sugar bowl.  I couldn't see the point of this little
tour, but then I reminded myself that I had spaced out through a big chunk
of it, so I had probably missed all the really important things.  I decided
not to ask Andrew to repeat any of it.  Nothing like pissing off the boss
on the very first day.

"Is this everyone?"  I asked Andrew, looking around at the group of eight
that were with me for this little tour.  Andrew shook his head and gave me
a look. I knew what that look meant.  Growing up in my house, when Mom gave
you the Look, it meant that you hadn't listened to a word she had said.  I
guess I did miss something fairly important while I had been daydreaming.
Oops.

"There are still two more who aren't here."  Andrew said.  "Besides Tommy,
that is.  Our voice for Cosmo the Cat, and Drew the Dog."  I nearly
snickered.  Who the hell decided on the names for these characters?  Did
they really assume that the kids were so dumb as to think these names were
cute?  I vowed that if I ever had children (if by some strange twist of
fate I woke up heterosexual one morning) they wouldn't be so stupid.

"I'm going to show you the studio now."  Andrew continued as he led us down
a long hallway.  "And then that will conclude the tour."  I followed him
without saying anything else, glad to be able to finally see something
interesting.

***

"When do you have to be at the studio?"  Justin asked Lance as he sat down
next to him, a heaping plate of spaghetti in his hand.  Lance didn't look
up from his plate as he pushed around the noodles, drawing little spaghetti
pictures.

"An hour."  He replied, pushing the plate away.  "I'm not very hungry right
now."

"Are you OK?"  Justin asked, reaching out and feeling Lance's forehead to
see if his friend had a fever.  Lance pulled away sharply and stood up.


"I'm fine."  Lance said, turning away from the table where he and the rest
of his friends had been sitting.  "I'm going to leave now.  I'll let you
know what happens at the studio."  Without another word, Lance left the
house.

"What's up with Lance?"  Justin asked, turning back to his other friends.
"He's been a little mopey all week, and then today he comes back from the
grocery store with a little smile, and now he's so down."

"Sounds like someone forgot what day it is."  Chris said as he twirled his
spaghetti around his fork.  Justin looked at him, confusion written on his
face before he finally caught on.

"Fuck!"  He yelled.  "I forgot!  Dammit, what kind of friend am I?  I was
there for fuck's sake!"

"Justin, stop talking like you've just joined the Navy."  JC said, rolling
his eyes at the younger man's outburst.  "It's understandable that you
forgot."

"But I was there!"  Justin repeated.  "I found him after he chased back
that bottle of sleeping pills with a six pack, JC.  I should have
remembered.  No, I should have gone with him to see his parents.  That's
what I should have done."  Justin pushed his plate across the table.  It
clinked as it hit Joey's.

"We went through this a hundred times last year, Justin."  Joey said,
pushing the plate back across the table.  "There was no way we could have
stopped him.  You remember what the therapist told us.  Lance has to deal
with this on his own.  All we can do is just be there if he needs us."

"Well he needs us!"  Justin said, jumping to his feet.  Chris grabbed
Justin's sleeve and pulled him back down.

"If he needs us, he'll tell us."  Chris said.  "That's what the therapist
said."  Justin glared at Chris and propped his elbows on the table.

"The therapist has a few screws loose."  He grumbled.  The others ignored
his outbursts and continued on with dinner, though they were as concerned
for Lance as Justin was.

***

Lance pushed open the double doors to the Woodland Productions building and
stopped by the main desk to ask for directions to Andrew Simcoe's office.
The young woman sitting behind the desk smiled up at Lance flirtatiously
and wrote down the simple directions to the office.  She also (not so)
discreetly wrote her phone number on the back.  Lance smiled and thanked
her.  As soon as he got into the elevator, he memorized the directions and
then tossed the slip of paper into the nearest trash can.

It was easy to find the right office, since Andrew had the only one on the
fifth floor.  He shared the floor with the recording studios, preferring to
be near to 'the real work' as he called it.  Lance glanced down at his
watch and saw that he was still very early, earlier than usual even for
him.  He hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long to see Andrew, but he
decided that it was still better than sitting at Justin's house with four
people who were trying to pretend that everything was perfectly fine.  It
didn't take a rocket scientist to see that things with Lance were not fine,
but no one seemed to care.

Lance found the office he was looking for and knocked softly on the door.
Someone from inside, Lance guessed that it was Andrew, called for him to
come in.  Lance pushed open the door and walked inside.

***

I stood up quickly and shoved my hands into my pockets.  I hadn't realized
how tiring the day would be when I had shown up.  I had thought that a
simple tour and a Q and A session would be simple and then I could go home
and start baking that cake.  It wasn't until I had sat down in a comfy
leather chair in Andrew's office that I was exhausted.  I made a mental
note to get more iron, and to go to bed earlier.

"Thanks for everything, Andrew."  I said.  "I'm going to head out now."

"See you on Monday, Quinn."  Andrew told me, shaking my hand a little too
firmly.  I lost the feeling in my fingers for a few seconds, but didn't say
anything.  After annoying your new boss with questions that he had already
answered, and spacing out every few minutes, you didn't want to annoy him
even more by asking that he leave some blood flow to your fingers.  After
all... circulation was a little over rated anyway.

As I turned to leave, there was a knock on the door.  Andrew yelled for the
visitor to come in, and I stepped to the side to allow them a clear path to
the desk.  As the door opened I nearly gasped in surprise.  Once again, I
got to see those eyes.