Lance’s momma is a proper southern lady, and has taught him almost everything he knows.  She taught him how to drive a stick-shift, iron his own clothes, and how to control the stubborn cowlick on the back of his head.  Ironically, it’s also from his momma that Lance learns to watch JC. 

Before he’d begun taking his lead from Chris, he’d taken it from his mother, so when they go down to Orlando and Diane looks just a few seconds longer at JC than she has at the others, Lance’s head turns in the same direction.  He doesn’t even wonder why they’re giving JC such close attention, because if his momma thinks that JC is something special, then he probably is. 

It isn’t clear exactly what Diane finds so fascinating about JC, but Lance can take a few guesses.  For starters, nobody moves like JC.  Before he’d even met JC, Lance had spent many afternoons watching the Mickey Mouse Club, curled up on the couch and hugging a pillow to his lap while JC did things with his hips that weren’t even half as suggestive as what they’re doing now.   Still, it’s doubtful that Lance’s momma is transfixed by JC’s sex appeal, so it’s probably the energy-- his incredible light-- or the way he sings with his whole voice.  Lance understands that, too—or he thinks he does.  It’s all a lot less clear when she finally, years after that initial infatuation, says something about JC’s unspoken appeal. 

***

***

“Lance,” Diane pulls Lance’s attention away from the flurry of motion before him.

“Hmm?” 

“Lance,” she says again, and this time he looks away from the choreographer, raises his eyebrows at her in an exaggerated sign that she’s got his attention.  

“I’m fine, mom,” he says automatically.  It’s been a week since he collapsed backstage, and even though he’s still sitting out rehearsals, he’s getting stronger every day.

“I know.”  He can hardly hear her over the music, which is so loud it almost hurts him, deep down to muscle and bone where he feels so bruised.  “He’s a good dancer,” she says, still almost too softly.  Lance follows her gaze to JC and nods, confused.  They’re all good dancers by now; they never would’ve made it this far if they weren’t.   

“…but he’s wild,” she continues.  “Not the kind of boy you want to get too close to.” 

Lance glances at JC, still dancing, and then his mother.  A cautious smile plays on his lips for the joke she’s about to make.  “Uh,” he says.  “What?” 

She leans in and pets his hair with cool, smooth fingers.  “He’s been in some trouble, sweetie.  He hasn’t been careful, if you know what I mean.” 

He doesn’t know what she means but there’s no way he’s going to admit it.  An educated guess paints uncomfortable pictures in his head.  “Mom.”  He shakes off her hand and scowls.  “Stop.” 

“I just worry about you,” she says seriously.

“Well, don’t,” he snaps, then slumps back against the wall, exhausted.  “I thought you liked JC.”

“Oh, I do,” she assures him, and he knows her well enough to know that it’s sincerity shining in her eyes, because why would she cry over something like this?  “Just not for you.” 

Lance snorts, too tired to smooth over his sharp, irritable edges.  “You’re the one watching him all the time,” he points out.  “Not me.” 

It’s not completely true at the time, but after that day he makes sure that it is.

***

***

It’s not that looking isn’t allowed; it’s the looking that’s forbidden, so Lance looks JC in the face while they talk and averts his eyes from the temptation of JC’s straining forearms when his palms land on the floor for a handspring.  It’s easy to watch and smile when JC is so wired that he babbles exhausting nonsense, but Lance knows to walk away when he’s sleepy and pliant, looking for a warm place to curl up and sleep.

After a while it becomes second nature, and Lance knows it’s for the best when he realizes that it keeps that pang at bay, the wrenching roller-coaster twist that he used to feel when he watched JC sing.  The pang disappears, and eventually so does the worried expression in his momma’s eyes. 

***

***

He supposes it was bound to come up again.  His momma isn’t around much anymore but the cameras are, making his life a matter of public access, and JC is always right there. 

It’s precipitated by a sudden hostility between Diane and Karen, to the point where they argue loudly in the hallway where everyone can hear and don’t apologize afterward.  It happens more than once, but Lance and JC shrug off everyone’s questions and promise not to let their mom’s bickering come between them.  It feels good, Lance thinks, to have this pact with JC- however small- and he’s still straightening his shirt from the brief but intense hug JC had given him when his momma drags him off to a private room. 

Once they’re behind the closed door, she hugs him tightly and then steps away, beginning and then stalling out on a stilted, nervous speech so many times that he knows it must be something terrible. 

“This is hard to say,” she murmurs.  A tissue is already clutched tightly between her fingers.  Is she expecting to cry? 

“Did something happen?” he asks suddenly.  “Dad…”

“No, no.  Everyone’s fine.  I just don’t know how you’re going to.  I don’t want you to be angry.” 

 “I love you, momma.  Whatever it is, it won’t matter.” 

“Oh, honey.”  She smiles weakly, gratefully, and it’s only then that Lance starts to feel the slow-growing dread that’s been lurking in his stomach.  “I wish it were that simple.  Sometimes there are just things that are completely out of our control no matter how much we wish we could change them.” 

Lance nods. 

“You know that your father and I had Stacy right away when we got married,” she says, but continues without waiting for an answer.  “But we aren’t perfect.  We made some…mistakes before then, and I ended up in trouble the year before that.” 

“Trouble?”  If it weren’t for her pale, tight face, he wouldn’t believe it.  He doesn’t want to know this about his own mother. 

“We had the baby,” she breathes out shakily.  “Of course we did.  But your grandparents were so disappointed- it was different back then- and there was no way we could keep him.” 

“Him?”  It takes a second for what she’s saying to register.  But of course, him, there had been a baby, a brother his parents hadn’t kept but had given away.  “Oh my God, mom.”  He starts to take a step back and then forces himself to stay.  He’s never seen her this way; so small and sad and unable to look him in the eye.  “Wait, why are you telling me this now?” 

“Lance, I had to-“  She wipes her eyes with the tips of her fingers and shakes her head.  “There’s no easy way to say this.  I never would’ve told you; it was done and over and done with.  And he’s got his own family now; good people who love him.”

Lance nods slowly, not sure he still wants to know. 

“JC,” she whispers, and before she can say any more, Lance has left the room, stalked out on mechanical legs that thankfully know where they’re going, because he doesn’t know a thing. 

***

“Finally!  What did your mom want?” Joey asks, then without missing a beat, “Where’s that bag with the unopened socks?” 

The socks are in the bathroom, but Lance doesn’t have a chance to tell Joey because his breath catches when JC turns to look at him with an expression so tense and uncertain that Lance has to swallow against a wave of nausea. They told JC first?  So much for having some time to prepare himself. 

“What?  Lance, what?”  Joey makes an exasperated sound and goes back to ransacking the room but Lance hardly hears him, hardly sees him, can’t see anything but the way JC’s eyes squeeze shut when he bows his head, hands spread over his unreadable face. 

“JC,” Lance says lowly.  It’s not the right thing because everyone turns to see whatever it is they hear in his voice. 

He dodges their curiosity by shutting himself in the bathroom, where he sits on the edge of the bathtub and stares at the floor, trying to force his mind into the same blank state as the white, white floor.  This is all just impossible to believe.  His momma can’t have done something so thoughtless, but she said it so it must be true unless she’s taken to lying, too, which is looking more likely than ever before. 

So, JC is…whatever.  Lance shakes his head and gets up, turns on the faucet in case anyone is listening.  He can’t even say it, can’t think it, can’t do anything but feel the ugly, uncomfortable weight of it in his belly.  To make it worse, the unwanted truth is already sprouting tiny seedlings of guilt because maybe that look on JC’s face wasn’t shock, maybe it was something else, put there by his own mother’s secrecy.

There’s a knock at the door, and JC’s soft voice asking to be allowed in.  Lance shakes his head even as he moves toward the door and turns the bolt to let JC inside. 

“They’re gone,” JC offers.  His movements are like his voice; slow and careful as though it’s Lance who needs gentleness.

“Yeah?”  A relieved breath shudders out of his chest.  He doesn’t want them to know just yet, doesn’t want anyone to see how he feels until he can explain himself.  “You okay?” 

From the corner of his eye he sees JC wave his hands and hears him say, “Sure, sure.  Yes.  I mean, better than you.  Are you okay?  This is…big for you.” 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles halfheartedly. 

“Because, you look a little, um.  You look sick.” 

When Lance glances up, JC is smiling his squinty-eyed smile, but his hands are nervous on his hips, picking and dancing restlessly.

“It’s hard to think about my mom like that,” Lance admits, and as far as he can tell he’s being honest. “Making such a big mistake.” 

“Who says it was a mistake?”   JC sits his tiny ass down with Lance on the edge of the bathtub.  “Come on.  Who did she hurt?  Besides herself, probably.” 

Lance opens his mouth, but the answers dissolve on his tongue.  You, he wants to say, but how has JC been injured?  He and JC both have great families, and with completely different upbringings they’ve managed to end up in the exact same place—the edge of a bathtub in a five star hotel.   And yet, there’s no denying the way JC had looked when Lance walked into the room. 

“So, this has no effect on you whatsoever?” 

He’s glad when JC’s gaze drops to the floor and his bottom lip disappears behind a hard scrape of teeth.  At least he’s not the only one having trouble with this.  “It’s like, whatever, you know?” he says, a typical JC explanation.  “It doesn’t change anything, so I’m just going with it.” 

Still skeptical, Lance leans his head against JC’s shoulder and they sit together in the dazzling white bathroom, afraid to say anything, and think about how nothing has changed. 

***

JC tells each of the guys privately, which makes it easier for Lance, who has always found them easier to deal with one on one.  They all offer their congratulations, especially Justin, who thinks it’s the best news ever, and feels the need to impart all of his wisdom on how to deal with brothers. 

“But he’s JC,” Lance points out.  “I already know how to deal with him.” 

“Not as a brother,” Justin argues, squinting in annoyance, and even though the word makes his stomach clench violently, Lance lets Justin lecture on family for fifteen minutes before he excuses himself to go pack for their upcoming break.   Justin smiles fondly as Lance leaves, and Lance just adds his friends’ reactions to the list of things he doesn’t understand. 

Packing brings some degree of calm.  The stacks and rows give him something to think about other than the thing he’s trying not to think about, and it seems like he’s spent a lifetime trying not to think about JC.  He’s not even halfway done when he hears footsteps behind him and he’s spent enough time not looking to know who it is.

“So, uh.  Your mom invited me to your family reunion.” 

It’s obvious that JC is expecting some kind of protest, but Lance feels quiet inside.  Let JC come, let his mom explain things to everyone, let them all do whatever is needed to alleviate their years-old guilt.  Lance nods and continues to pack his suitcase even though he’s aware that JC is still standing there, standing with his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, waiting for something.  Maybe he’s waiting for Lance’s blessing, as though Lance has the right to give one.  Still, he can’t stand seeing JC so uncomfortable.

“We all stay at grandma’s,” he says.  The side zipper sticks and he yanks at it, hard, before finally meeting JC’s eyes.  “Mom said for you to stay in my room.” 

“But you’ll be there, right?”  

“Of course.”  He hasn’t seen his grandparents in months, and his favorite aunt has just had a baby.  Socks go on the right side, toothpaste in the side pocket.  Having JC along isn’t a problem.  They’re two parts of five and how could it be better to be apart?  He wants to tell JC that it’s fine, but instead he fits his black gym shoes into the one remaining space and presses the suitcase closed.   

JC makes a frustrated sound. “You have to tell me if you don’t want this.  I’m not going to…force myself on you-on your family- if it makes you so fucking pissed off.” 

“I’m not pissed off.  I’m packing.”  It’s ridiculous, and it’s no sooner said than he hears JC’s soft laughter and feels his own mouth tugging upward; his first genuine smile in days. 

“So you don’t mind?”  JC steps into Lance’s space and Lance doesn’t have to look to know that JC’s eyes are bright with suppressed excitement. 

“Of course not.” 

“Okay, yes, awesome.  I’m just, I hope everyone will be cool…” 

“They’ll love you.  They already love you,” Lance says firmly.  He drums his fingers on his suitcase and looks past JC’s shoulder to the view from their penthouse window.  Everyone loves JC; that’s why his momma has always so thoroughly warned him, after all. 

She’d just wanted to make sure that when Lance inevitably loved JC, he did so in the right and proper manner. 

***

They really do already love him.  It makes Lance wonder whether they’ve always all known but everything has such a perfectly balanced peace that he doesn’t want to risk that just for the satisfaction of his curiosity.  They get settled into Lance’s room and then make their way around the house, greeting everyone they meet like it’s always been this way.

He tugs at JC’s hand- careful not to look at their entwined fingers- and leads him through the crowded living kitchen to the patio where a group of women sit in plush lounge chairs and sip iced drinks.  They stop talking when Lance approaches, and smile their glossy lipstick smiles at both of them. 

“Mind if I steal him away for a while?” Lance asks a woman with dark hair and darker circles beneath her eyes.  She shifts the baby bundled in her arms and then lifts him so that Lance can take him from her arms. 

“As long as you want,” she jokes.  “In fact, when you’re finished I think it’s about time his daddy took a turn, so when I see you again the only thing I’d better see in your hands is a six-pack.” 

Lance laughs and moves so that JC can peer down at the tiny face, the wide dark eyes and the wild halo of curls.  “C’mon,” he says, and leads JC down into the part of the yard that’s shaded from the evening sun by a row of glossy magnolia trees.  His cousin is the slightest weight in his arms, but JC’s silence is heavy on his shoulders. 

They stand under the trees and listen to the chatter coming from the house.  “Look at his hair,” Lance finally says. 

“I…yeah.”  JC sounds odd, so Lance allows himself a glance to make sure he’s all right before turning his attention back to the baby, whose mouth is working open and closed with wet smacking sounds.  Lance misses this the most when he’s touring; the family he used to have around him all the time. 

“Here,” Lance says.  He holds his arms out toward JC.  “You want to?  He’s your cousin, too.” 

“Oh yeah.  Wow.  But, uh, no.”  JC refuses, but he stands closer in order to touch the silky curls with the tips of his fingers.  After a few minutes, the baby starts squirming and making startling strangled sounds that make JC’s eyes go wide. 

Lance doesn’t know much about babies, but he knows that it’s time to hand this one over.  “Let’s find his daddy.  You hungry?” 

“Yeah, wait.”  JC takes the baby then, lifts him right from Lance’s arms and drapes him over his shoulder, patting at his back until the squeaks turn into sighs.  He beams with his cheek resting against the dark curls and his smile is so bright that Lance forgets, for just a second, not to look. 

He doesn’t forget again for the rest of the evening. 

***

There are too many stories to tell, too many people who want to give JC their love and lecture Lance on taking better care of himself, but eventually the dishes are all done and the rooms empty out. 

“Now, what are you two still doing up?  Your room is all ready.”  Grandma shoos them out of the kitchen where even the poker game has broken up and down the hall to the room that has been Lance’s for as long as he can remember.  He’d never wanted to share with Stacy, but sharing with JC is a part of his life now and it still feels like a refuge even with someone else inside. 

“What do you think?” Lance asks as he strips down to his underwear.  On the other side of the bed, JC is doing the same. 

“I remember most of them,” JC says happily.  “They’re awesome, the way they made me feel so…and your parents.  I know it’s weird for them.”  He slides under the covers while Lance turns out the light. 

“My parents are being weird?”  Lance knows they are, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say when he gets into bed and turns onto his side to face JC.  “They just feel guilty,” he says quietly.  The air conditioner hasn’t kicked on yet and the house is strangely, perfectly still.

“I know,” JC whispers back.  “But it’s cool.  I’m cool with everything.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah.”  The bed wiggles slightly when JC nods.  “Lance.  God.  I can’t, I feel like we should’ve known all along.  Can you see it?” 

No, Lance thinks fearfully, and his fists curl up beneath the sheets.  “I don’t…JC.”  But JC is fearless and he plows right on. 

“I can,” he whispers.  “Here.”  The pads of his fingers are callused and gentle when they drag a tingling line of sensation along the curve of Lance’s cheek. 

“You think?”  It’s flattering, but there’s no way he looks even a little like JC, who is perfectly formed in every way. 

“Yeah.  And here.”  Lance shuts his eyes when he feels JC’s thumb brush his lower lip, then move upward to tap the tip of his nose.  “And we’ve both got big…”   He trails off with a smile in his voice and Lance knows what he’s supposed to say.  He would say it if he could -noses-  with just the right amount of teasing so that JC wouldn’t see how he’s stolen Lance’s ability to speak. 

“It was a joke,” JC says, just a whisper because every once in a while a floorboard creaks out in the hallway.  “Lance.” 

“I know.  I’m sorry,” Lance chokes.  JC’s hand is still there, warm and soft where it’s drifted down to his neck. “I just don’t see it, that’s all.”  He swallows against the press of JC’s palm. 

“How could you know?  You never look at me,” JC says.  It’s the quietest accusation he’s ever heard, but that doesn’t lessen the impact, especially not with the way JC’s hand is moving up, fingers pressing into his jaw and turning, pushing, tilting until he’s forced to look JC in the eye.  “Why?” JC asks again.  “Why won’t you look at me?” 

Lance’s eyes fall shut.  “Habit, I guess.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that my mom- she said.  She knew we were…”

“Brothers.  At least I can say it.” 

“Of course you can say it!  It’s not- you’re not…” 

JC’s hand loosens, but Lance feels as though he’s being strangled.  An admission is trying to claw its way out of his throat but he can’t admit it; won’t admit to anything so depraved. 

“Oh.”  Lance feels the exhale of understanding, a soft gust of warm breath across his cheek that touches him everywhere.  Everywhere, too many places, and he shrinks away from JC, but not before JC pushes his other hand down beneath the blankets and lets his bony knuckles skate across the fine hair of his belly, just above his waistband. 

“It’s okay,” JC breathes while Lance’s belly trembles against his hand.  “We’re family.”  His words don’t make sense, not with the way he’s touching Lance under the blanket—unless JC thinks that family makes this okay; heat and intimacy all in the name of comfort.   Lance sucks in a dizzy, shallow breath and steels himself against the wet, careful kiss on his cheek that’s over in an instant but leaves behind a searing invisible mark of promise. 

***

Things are different after that night.  JC seems happier, spends less time by himself and more time glued to Lance’s side.  Lance, who is used to the firm, constant pet of Joey’s hands and the hard cling of Chris, is continuously shaken by the light, smooth touches that JC places on his arm, hip, the small of his back.  It’s as though brotherhood has given him some kind of permission that he’s been waiting for, almost as if he’s been as adamant about not touching as Lance has been about not looking.  It all seems terribly unwise, yet Lance hesitantly yields to JC’s affections because it doesn’t break any of his rules, after all. 

JC hasn’t ever paired off with any of the others in the group, so it feels good that he wants to be near Lance all the time now.  Their first day back they’ve got an interview and JC is settled into a narrow spot on the couch hardly big enough for both of them, but Lance squirms until they’re both comfortable.  Justin takes the first few questions until Chris and Joey take over, talking over one another until the reporter has lost all focus.  Lance lets them talk and enjoys the way JC chuckles every now and then at their answers.  He hasn’t enjoyed an interview this much in forever, so his guard is down when the reporter finally turns toward their end of the sofa. 

“Let’s talk about you two,” she says with a sly grin.  “I’ve heard some things through the grapevine that our readers will go crazy for.” 

Lance smiles back and makes eye contact.  He knows how to do this.  JC tenses beside him and Lance has barely turned to see what the matter is before she delivers her question in a tone of hushed faux-intimacy.  “You and JC have recently discovered a family secret.  Brothers, raised apart and reunited in the most successful boyband ever.  What we want to know is how it affects the group now that two of you are actually related.” 

“What?  Who…who told you that?” JC asks, darting a nervous glance at Lance.

“My sources-“

“Your sources are wrong,” Lance breaks in, shocked by how calm he sounds.  Inside, he’s torn with cold fury and fear that this thing, this perfect balance he’s found with JC will be taken away.  “This interview is over.”  He’s never done this before, none of them have, and he isn’t even sure he’s allowed, but he walks out anyhow, with the frantic apologies of the interviewer echoing behind him. 

JC runs after him but he shrugs the touch from his shoulder; it feels tainted now, unwelcome.  It’s not right to use JC’s new affection as his own guilty pleasure and he has to stop because this is what his momma warned him about all along.  Frustration wells up to join his helpless anger and he shakes with it, the absolute hatred of this situation.

He takes his anger to the stage.  He dances with furious energy and when it’s over he’s pale and shaking, like something inside has been jolted loose.  Backstage, JC watches him from the corner while they dress, and then tries again.  “Good show,” he says carefully.  Lance nods, looking for Joey, who is safe in every way.  JC’s hair is wild and sweaty, and he smoothes it down with his fingers as he moves into Lance’s space and Lance steps away, something he should’ve been doing all along. 

“Got to go.”  Lance points at Joey and gives JC a quick wave before he can say anything else. 

***

The good thing about Joey is that he sees complete nervous breakdowns as a normal part of life, something that everyone has to do every now and then for their own sanity.  It makes Lance wonder sometimes about his home growing up, but supposes that in a house with personalities that big there was bound to be some drama.  At any rate, it’s prepared Joey well for life on the road, life in a boyband, and more importantly for times like this, when Lance is curled on the bus sofa, unable to even open his mouth for fear he’ll break down crying. 

“I can tell you’re messed up,” Joey says.  He shakes his ass at Lance before pulling on a pair of clean sweatpants.  “I think I know why, but don’t yell at me.” 

Lance shakes his head and feels cold inside.  He certainly hopes Joey doesn’t know, but there aren’t many secrets on this bus—in this band, for that matter. 

“So I can guess?”  Joey pulls a sweatshirt over his head and straightens the sleeves, then plops down next to Lance and gets in his face.  He raises one eyebrow, always with the high drama. 

Lance shrugs. 

“Okay.  I think you’re messed up about JC.  You don’t want people to know you’re brothers, which means you’re…embarrassed or something.  It’s hard for you to go from having your little crush on him to thinking of him like family.” 

“It’s not a little crush!”  But there’s no denying the embarrassing part, his face is flaming hot and he wants to cover it, hide himself away completely. 

“It’s fine, calm down.”  Joey isn’t laughing, and it’s a good thing.  He couldn’t handle it if Joey were laughing at him.  “But you guys aren’t fucking, right?  Because dude, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.  Isn’t it?” 

“Joey, please!  I don’t know!”  But he does know; he knows that it it’s illegal in this state but not the one they just came from. 

“All right, all right.”  Joey’s hand comes down on Lance’s shoulder and starts rubbing until Lance sags against him, half-asleep.  “But you have to talk to him, at least,” Joey says as he rubs Lance into a state of nirvana.  “You’re being kind of mean, and he’s really fucking excited about being your brother.” 

“I can tell,” Lance groans, and leaves it at that. 

Joey isn’t the only one who has an opinion on the matter.  After a week of avoiding JC, Justin takes him aside at the hotel the next day and wants to know why he’s not answering JC’s calls. 

“I don’t get you.  Is it because you think he’s gonna like, steal your mom away?” Justin asks, pained with sympathy.  Lance chokes out a brittle sound that’s nearly a laugh.

“Unlike you, everything isn’t about my mom,” he hisses, and takes satisfaction in the way Justin’s face colors so quickly.  “Now fuck.  Off.” 

Justin stalks off toward his own momma’s room before changing his mind at the last second and taking the stairs. 

***

After a while, JC stops trying.  He approaches Lance with downcast eyes and is careful not to stand too closely, respecting what Lance has asked for but isn’t what he really wants.   

“It’s not him,” Lance tries to explain to Justin and Joey.  Chris doesn’t ask, and Lance gets the feeling that he just knows somehow, knows not to push because there’s nothing Lance can do about it.  “It’s the whole situation.  It’s me.  I’m not…”  But he can’t say it, because there’s no way to say what sickens him to even think it. 

They finish the tour.  They go to the compound when they first arrive home.  Their families are waiting, and Lance finds that for the first time he’s not as thrilled to see them.  There’s a web of tension between the two families that he doesn’t want to deal with, and when his momma gets him alone again, the conversation doesn’t go well.

“Honey,” she says reproachfully.  “I heard that you and JC aren’t talking.  You were getting so close at grandma’s this summer.  Is it…did something happen?” 

“What do you mean?” he sighs. He can’t look at her because he loves her too much.  He’s never been one to talk back, but this is beyond his control.   “What do you mean by something, mom?”  

“Lance…” 

“You should have told me sooner!  As soon as we met, maybe before.” 

“I couldn’t, you know that.  We did what was best for him.  For everyone,” she insists.

“How was that best for him, mom?  You didn’t even pick the right people!  They couldn’t even take care of him, and they gave him up, too!  How do you think he feels about that?” 

She’s silent for a second and then speaks softly.  Her voice is soft, but he’s never heard her sound so hard.  “I don’t think you’re upset about JC’s upbringing.  I think you’re upset because you can’t have the relationship you want with JC.  I think that you need to move on, James Lance, before your stubbornness gets you in trouble.” 

“What kind of trouble?” he asks, his voice ringing in his ears.  Is he yelling?  He thinks he is. 

“I’m going to go find your father.  We’ll see you soon.”  She’s crying when she turns away and leaves Lance standing there with all of his anger and disappointment. 

***

“I, uh, heard what she said.” 

Just to spite his mother, Lance doesn’t move away.  In fact, he turns and looks at JC, really looks at him, not just at his face but at his pink mouth and everything he’s not allowed to think about.   “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I don’t mean to.”  And he doesn’t.   He wants to be a proper brother, but he can’t turn this on and off just because of a little blood between them. 

JC nods his understanding, and when Lance leaves he follows him shoulder to shoulder all the way through the massive compound and out to Lance’s car.  He gets in wordlessly, and Lance drives home with part grim determination and part heady terror over where they’re going, what they’re doing.  JC heard everything Lance’s momma said, but he still followed.

When they get to his house, Lance unlocks in the front door and then locks the deadbolt behind them while JC watches as though his life depends on it.  They climb the stairs, still silent, because there’s no need to talk when one word might shatter this new fragile peace.  In Lance’s bedroom JC closes the drapes and goes straight to Lance, into his arms where they hold each other like family, like an apology, like acceptance. 

It seems like hours pass as they stand pressed together, on the verge of something they’re not allowed.  Lance fears it and wants it, but the want wins out in the end when he lets JC lift his t-shirt over his head and even returns the favor, helping JC get rid of all his clothing until they’re both undressed. 

“Come lie down with me,” JC breathes into Lance’s ear, and he needs to lie down anyway because his legs feel weak and unsteady.   He lies down next to JC, wondering if there’s something wrong with his heart again the way it’s working like he’s just run a mile.  JC rolls onto his side, a hot, firm tongue pushes its way into Lance’s mouth and just like, with gentle presses of lip and tongue, wet and open like all the sex Lance has ever had.  Lance is desperate for the taste of JC, for the feel of something more intimate than what he’s been allowed, and while their mouths work together he reaches down between JC’s legs.  Just one touch and they’re suddenly grinding together, both saying yes when they should be saying no. 

“We can have this,” JC pants against Lance’s neck, hoarse and desperate.  “Just for us, just between us.”  It sounds like a plea, so Lance swallows up the words with his own mouth and thinks yes, yes, yes, because how could he say no?  JC’s lean legs clutch crookedly at his waist and there’s not room for anything but pleasure between them, skin and muscle and bone, all the things they have in common bring the most pleasure and when the phone rings, Lance is too busy shuddering against JC, coming and being kissed all at once, to answer. 

The machine picks up while Lance squeezes JC’s cock in his fist, letting JC push into it and smothering his stomach with kisses that sometimes venture lower. 

“I know you’re there…but I suppose you’re still angry.”  His momma always did have bad timing, but he doesn’t let that stop him, because JC’s hips are driving wildly back and forth, so close, cresting tension that’s ready to break.  “Call me when you’re ready, and please, baby, apologize to JC.”  Lance licks the head of JC’s cock when it pushes through the top of his fist and feels it swell with quick, intense pulses. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispers, one obedient act in the midst of utter rebellion, and bows his forehead against JC’s sticky, trembling belly while the machine beeps with finality.

End