Work Text:
ten
All Justin remembers is Chris's incessant rambling about a blond chick with the coolest snake tattoo going around her thigh and then a pair of green eyes before he's drenched in sickeningly sweet something. The green eyes he's staring into widen almost comically before the string of apologies cut through Chris's voice.
"Oh fuck, man, sorry, that asshole," the green eyes turn to look the other way," asshole pushed me, man, I didn't mean to. Seriously, sorry." Then the guy's grabbing a waiter and he's handing him a dry towel and Justin would be grateful, yeah, really grateful, he thinks, but he's too busy throwing up on his own shoes.
nine
Justin wakes up the next day, feeling sore and out of place and can't remember where he is and how he got there, but Chris's snoring from beside him orientates him a little. The beer, the club, the drinks, the girl with the tattoo, that fucking hot guy - wait, what happened to the guy, Justin's mulling the night over and for the life of him can't remember what happened to the blond he was talking-
The memory is almost too much and Justin gags, just a little.
He slides out of bed, wearing last night's clothes, reeking of who knows what, and slips into the bathroom. He coughs a little, hums quietly, fuck, it's gonna be days before this voice is gonna be okay, great, and decides to go die in the shower.
When he's out of the shower and feeling half-human again, he meets the guys in Joey's room. Joey and JC are already laughing when he walks in.
"...and then he totally lets go, fucking grossest thing I've ever - ooh, it's the Amazing Vomiting Boy! Feeling queasy there, huh, Infant? Wanna go have some drinks with me later, maybe hit the club?" Chris's voice is making his head hurt and he frowns, flipping him off.
"Piss off, Chris. It's your fault, that pot was fucked up or something."
"Ha! You're just such a light-weight, man, should've left you here to watch Disney with Bri or something, or let you stay at the bouncy castle at the park a little longer so it would've worn you out. Little boys like you, y'know, shouldn't let th-"
"Can you just please shut the hell up? My head hurts and I haven't had anything to eat after that horrible crap you had in your room last night and man, I threw up on my own shoes when I had my first chance of getting laid in months." He has to groan at that. He pushes the cereal plate away and leans his forehead against the cool glass surface of the dining table. He can hear JC laughing.
Someone pats his back, just a little too heavily for it to be sincere.
"Think of the bright side, " Joey says, obvious cheeriness in voice, "at least you didn't throw up on the guy's shoes."
Justin sighs, deeply, from his chest. He loves these three guys, he seriously does, they make up the most important part of his life, but sometimes. Sometimes Justin wonders if he just should stick with hanging out with his momma.
eight
It's months later when Justin finds himself at the same club again. Trace tugs on his sleeve and gestures something he doesn't understand. He nods anyway. Trace slips by a group of people and Justin finds himself standing alone by the bar, sipping water, just looking around.
"Is that just water or did you just expect not to see me tonight?" The voice is unfamiliar and Justin whips around, ready to call Randy or Mike or the delicate looking chick behind the bar or anyone - he's not in the mood to deal with anyone overzealous tonight, or any night. He stills for a moment, doesn't even dare to breathe before he can get the words out.
"You better keep your distance. You know I get a little projectile from time to time." He allows himself to grin, because shit, this is one person he didn't think he'd meet tonight. The blond grins, and wow, the spark of interest in the pit of Justin's belly sends a pleasurable warmth over him.
"So. What are you doing here?" the man asks, sipping on his drink. "I'd think a guy like you wouldn't hang around places like these. Aren't you busy traveling the word, making little girls cry?"
"I didn't think you recognized me." Justin smiles, kinda pleased and disappointed at once.
"I think that's impossible these days. You're everywhere."
"Yeah, well. Sorry about that." Justin offers the guy a wry grin. "Justin."
The guy grins wider. "Yeah, I know."
"Okay, then. I just. Guys usually seem to mix us up." God, could he possibly sound much more like a complete dweeb?
"'s okay, Justin. I'm Lance." The hand Lance offers is cool and dry and a little callused. The smile he gives Justin is everything but. Justin takes his hand, shakes it and holds it just a bit too long - it's there, in Lance's touch and in his smile, that unspoken interest - and grins.
"Hi, Lance. It's a pleasure. So. What do you do, Lance?" Justin sips on his water. His eyes drift over the bulge of Lance's bicep; wow, this guy is buff.
"I'm a rocket scientist."
Justin can't help but laugh, revel in Lance's amused grin. "Oh yeah? Bet the chicks dig that, huh? Seriously, man, what do you do?"
"Told you already." Lance grins, something in the set of his lips almost defying.
"You are not a rocket scientist, man. C'mon."
Lance rolls his eyes. "Fine, then. I'm a stock broker. Is that the answer you wanted to hear?"
"...You're really a rocket scientist? Well. Shit. That's cool, man."
Lance shrugs, all false modesty and obvious pride. "I guess it is. Only job I could even think about doing."
"So you. Meddle with the shuttles and. Stuff. Shit, dude, I have no idea what a rocket scientist does. Are you going to space or something?" Justin's kinda awed but trying to hide it, what, you wanna look like an idiot in front of this guy? - this guy's smarter than he looks, and he looks really fucking smart, actually. At least his dick seems to think he does.
"Yeah, eventually. I'm in training now. Well, finishing up on training in a few weeks."
"Wow. I mean. Wow. That's awesome, man."
"Yeah. I kinda think so too." And then Lance smiles, a little dorky smile that shows a lot of teeth and something in Justin flutters, just a little, sending ripples along his spine.
When Justin catches a cab to his house hours later, he's smiling, smiling wide, humming a little to himself. He checks his phone for the second time and laughs at himself. Acting like a fucking twelve-year old girl, man, get real, but yeah, there it is, the rocket scientist's phone number.
seven
Justin waits a good, solid day before he calls Lance, though he feels like an ass doing it. It's late when he calls and he's kinda hoping he wakes Lance up because he can't imagine what Lance might sound like then, straight from sleep, when even his "hi, how are you" voice makes Justin’s dick harden. There's no answer and Justin's about to hang up just as Lance picks up, voice low, breathing hard.
"'lo?"
"Lance, hi, it's Justin. Um. From the club last night?"
"Oh, hey, Justin. What's up?" Justin can hear a murmur from the background, someone's talking and the line goes dead silent. Oh, fuck, Lance has someone there and - Justin can barely resist the urge to hang up on him.
"Oh, just. Not much, man, was. I was wondering if we could meet up, but man, you're obviously busy, I should let you-"
"Yeah, no, man. I'm kinda in the middle of something-" Justin swears he can hear laughter from the background- "but I'll call you tomorrow, seriously. Talk you then, man." Justin barely has time to say bye when the phone goes silent.
Justin flings his cell phone to the bed. He's not going to make a fool of himself by running after some weird guy he met a club. Sure, Lance has a cool voice and a nice body and seems like a fun guy, if you ignore the geeky moments - which are actually fun, when Justin thinks about it - but he's also got weird hair and he looks like a shark when he grins and yeah, Justin, he doesn't care, he's just a guy, he can get anyone he wants when he puts his mind to it.
Justin pretends he isn't disappointed when Lance doesn't call.
six
But then Lance does call, and even though Justin has promised himself he won't answer, he dives for the phone. Lance apologizes, profusely, and offers him an explanation that sounds altogether too unbelievable, but the guy is a rocket scientist and knows things he doesn't know and is also older than him so Justin forgives him instantly. Well, almost.
Lance talks about space, "next July, man, if nothing goes wrong," and then Justin shivers, because nothing should go wrong, can go wrong. Justin hums softly and listen to Lance's voice. Lance quiets down, starts asking him questions, little, not-at-all nosy questions and Justin finds himself talking and smiling and talking more.
He doesn't know what happens, but before the phone call ends, he's moaning quietly into the phone, Lance's voice vibrating in his ear, his hand wrapped around his cock. It isn't his touches but Lance's moan that brings him over the edge and when they hang up, Justin is boneless and sated and can't wait to be in the same room with Lance. Hell, the same city would be enough for now.
five
That day comes in February. It's been six months since he's been home and he's smiling, he's fidgeting around when he waits for it to be late enough to go get Lance from the airport. He's standing in front of the mirror, tugging on this and that and he needs to get going now unless he wants to be late.
Their meeting at the airport is awkward and kinda quiet and Justin doesn't know what he should do with his hands. They get in the car, and Lance is looking out of the window before he abruptly turns to look at Justin.
"Look, man. Maybe it's better if you take me to my friend's place. I don't want to impose on you-"
"You're not imposing, Lance. And there's no way in hell you're staying anywhere else. I wouldn't even be in this town if you weren't here. So suck it up. You can tolerate me for one weekend and then we can go our separate ways and never talk to each again, 'kay?"
Justin can fight his grin almost half a block longer than Lance.
four
Justin spends two and half days in bed. With Lance. It's hot, and demanding, like Lance and he gives himself to Lance, completely, the only way he knows how to. Justin remembers every word, almost, he remembers watching Lance sleep. He hasn't done that with anyone in years.
Some of his memories are hazy; he can remember Lance's hot wet tongue on his hipbone, his fingers twisting inside him, what the small of Lance's back tastes like. Some of them are vivid; the look in Lance's eyes when he's pushing inside him, what his cool fingers feel like sliding down his side, the sharpness of his teeth on his nipple.
What none of the memories lack, is feeling.
three
Chris and Joey spend their every waking moment taunting him, or so it feels like to Justin. Chris makes constant comments about his lovelorn looks and sighs and too-long phone calls and Joey encourages him, cooing into the phone when he talks to Lance, sing-songing about trees and kisses and kids and marriage - and really, Joey should be the last to say anything, considering how he and Kelly still act.
JC listens to him ramble about Lance, questions his motives and does a full-body shiver of something very much like fear when he mentions the word commitment the first time.
"I dunno, man. I couldn't do it, seriously. But is seems like to me you're pretty long gone by now."
Justin nods meekly - his momma says the same thing, is scared of Justin tying himself down too soon, not getting his young, single and free phase out of his system but this is who Justin is. He doesn't do short-term things, he doesn't want one-night stands or a career that supports him just a few years - he's worked for stability and continuity all his life, and he isn't changing now.
The first time Lance meets the guys is really fucking scary. One: because he realizes he and his best friends aren't the most grounded bunch, they aren't living an every day life where you can just accept strangers into your life as new friends. Two: his friends, in all reality, are just as weird as he is.
Lance fits in perfectly, though, and it somehow doesn't surprise Justin at all; Lance can interpret JC like he's known him all of his life, sometimes finishes his sentences for him, which just doesn't happen. The rest of them listen to the conversation in respectful silence.
Lance's sarcasm matches and surpasses Chris's and that's a lot said - Justin wonders, a little guiltily, if some of his attraction for Lance maybe comes from Lance being a lot like Chris in some things. It's not like he didn't spend years pining after him. But still, it's Lance he wants to be with, and that's all that matters.
Joey practically adopts Lance. Justin hears later Joey's invited him and Lance to spend a weekend in New York with him and weeks later Joey's still going Lance this and Lance that and then Chris starts mocking Joey for having a crush on Lance and Justin almost feels like sulking because Lance is his, not theirs to mock and talk about and like. It takes a while, but Justin gets over himself – it’s not like there isn’t enough of Lance to share and well, he actually doesn’t have to share Lance with anyone. At all
two
Then it's July and Justin spends it not talking to Lance, not being able to talk to Lance, or see Lance or anything Lance, because the bastards have shut him down in pre-flight isolation at Kennedy. Justin misses Lance. He also spends most of July not eating or sleeping and barely breathing.
He goes into complete panic when he hears about a small fire on the launching pad - he tries to contact Lance, calls to every phone number possible before he receives a quickly typed e-mail from Lance, telling him everything and everyone is okay. He moves into Chris's house for the rest of July.
The launch goes well, and he reads everything he can about the flight, barely shuts his eyes for those nine days Lance is up there. He sits in Chris's backyard, staring at the sky, pretending he can see the stars. He wraps his arms around himself and wonders what is it about space that captivates Lance so much.
He wonders about the same thing out loud, and Chris pats his shoulder, says, "maybe 'cause he's such a spacey sort of guy," and Justin knows he's just trying to make him feel better with his lousy jokes, but it makes him wonder even more. Finally he just gives up - if he has music to escape in, Lance has space and that's it. He knows Lance has things in his life he doesn't want to talk about, memories and stuff gone wrong like everyone else, but Lance, he just isn't the type of guy to sit down and talk about his feelings.
Justin would say he isn't that sort of a guy either, but that would be a blatant lie.
He just wishes Lance's escape would stop turning his stomach into slowly twisting knots.
one
Lance is back - he can't meet Lance until days later, when the media is done with him. He sees Lance everywhere, on TV, magazines covers - fucking People magazine, they wouldn't even take him anymore - suddenly his boyfriend isn't just his boyfriend but the world-known astronaut, the youngest American in space ever. Lance laughs on the phone, "I lost the world title to Titov by 119 days, man, just my luck," and wow, Justin kinda misses the fuck out of him.
But then Lance is there, and Justin contemplates shackling him into the bed for the next week but Lance talks him out of it. Justin does blow him the second he gets him inside the house - Justin's ego is thoroughly stroked when it takes Lance approximately two seconds to come. Lance just grins sheepishly, cheeks flushed, chest still heaving, pets Justin's hair.
"Sorry, J. It's been a long month."
The guys let Justin keep Lance all to himself for the whole of two days - he would be kinda upset if he didn't see how much the guys had missed Lance, too - Joey picks Lance up and twirls him around Justin's living room - then everyone is there, his parents, Lance's family, half the people they know, and Lance looks like he's about to split at the seams from happiness. Justin knows how he feels.
Later, he lies on the grass in the backyard, next to Lance, playing the forever game of take Lance's hand, have him pull it away politely after a while, take it again after a moment, have him pull it back, repeat ad nauseum. Justin lets Lance’s hand rest on the ground and listens to his voice, watches the patterns Lance's fingers draw on the sky when he tells him stories about the stars he's seen closer, so much clearer than most people.
Justin wonders how many times he'll have to let Lance go and how many times he needs to leave Lance for his own escape and grabs Lance's hand in his sudden wave of fear, feeling a lot girly and even more needy and much more content than ever before, and pointedly decides not to think about it.
Lance squeezes his hand; Justin feels it deep in his chest. He turns to look at Lance's profile, oh yeah, he's still the same guy, no stardust on his skin, none of the sun's brightness clinging to his hair. Justin grins, that'd make a great song, the new rocket man or something, then rolls over and kisses Lance deeply.
liftoff