Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned.
NEEDING YOU By Neqs Chapter 3
By the time Marshall Mathers woke up from his much-needed sleep, it was six o'clock and his hangover, which hadn't been that bad to begin with, was all gone. He took his time to flex his limbs one at the time, planning his schedule for the evening. 'I'll call Lance around eight. That means I have two hours to relax and ready myself for the night.'
Marshall didn't waste any time after that. He called the room service for some breakfast, "Yeah I don't fucking care if it's six p.m., I just woke up and I'm starving my ass off!" and while he still had the phone in his hand, he called one of his numerous, nameless assistants.
"I need the latest *NSYNC album, and I need it yesterday. Bring it to the hotel within the hour." There was no need to offer the bewildered assistant any explanation. He wasn't high enough in the food chain to know of Eminem's nicer persona.
While waiting for the food to arrive, Marshall slouched on the sofa. Before sitting down, though, he put his Ella Fitzgerald cd in the stereo. 'Now this is relaxing morning music,' he thought, leaning against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed. When the track changed, he opened his eyes again and picked up a book from the side table. Opening it on the first page, he read aloud the famous starting sentence.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Marshall sighed. 'Jane was sort of right, but I don't think she'd thought it all through. I don't want a wife; I had one from hell already. A life companion, well, that's another matter altogether.'
Tossing the copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' back on the table, Marshall grabbed the remote control and flicked on MTV. The first words he heard shook him a little.
"I guess I'm ready, for settling down when fooling around is over-" Marshall hit the mute button, at the same time feeling shocked, amused, irritated, and, oddly enough, pleased by the coincidence. 'Damn British boy bands, I've got enough trouble with the American ones,' he thought morosely. 'Am I a jumble of emotions or what?' he asked himself rhetorically.
Soon his 'breakfast' arrived and he wolfed it down, oblivious to the taste. The next disturbance was a flustered-looking assistant bringing the requested album. Marshall immediately put it on. 'Not that bad,' he mused as he listened. 'At least they have more attitude than the sugar-water Backstreet Boys,' he thought while listening to 'Pop'. 'Girlfriend' he found plain whiny. As he went through the songs, listening to snippets of this and that, the track he liked best was 'Do Your Thing'. It was relaxed and easy-going and had some good lyrics.
'Ok, so I don't hate my boyfriend's music, that's always good,' he thought, before the realisation of what he'd just thought froze him to the spot. Boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. This he had to think through very carefully.
Leaving 'Celebrity' playing on repeat, Marshall ran himself a hot bath. The green apple scented bath oil caressed his form while he gradually willed his body to relax. 'Always tense. I suppose it's an occupational hazard, being an angry rapper and a bigoted asshole. Well, people who survive my remarks will only get stronger for them. Luckily 'Stan' is pure fiction.'
Marshall focused his wandering attention to his earlier slip. 'Boyfriend. Is that what I want Lance to be? Sure, he's nice, seems smart, and is definitely good-looking. And he's a celebrity too, so he would understand the need for secrecy and my travelling. I hope he's after something real too and not just hot for the 'angry mean rapper'. I'll have to see how tonight goes.'
The ringing of the phone shook the lightly dozing blonde alert an indefinite period of time later. He pulled the plug, and wrapped a plush bathrobe around his wet form as he stalked over to the phone.
"What!!!" he half screamed half growled. It was a fearsome sound, and it caused the assistant in the other end to gulp and stutter and offer silent prayers of gratitude that he wasn't in the same physical location as Eminem.
"Uh. Mr Mathers, Dr. Dre asked me to remind you, sir, that your presence would be greatly appreciated in the meeting tomorrow afternoon. Actually he did mention something about dragging your ass there himself, if need be, but I'm sure that was just a figure of speech, sir, Mr Mathers-" the poor man managed to blurt out, before Marshall cut him off.
"I'll be there, tell him that too and now get off my case, freak!" he snapped.
'Well, that might have been a little harsh,' he thought as he slammed the phone down, 'but I've gotta keep up the image and he was really starting to piss me off.' Then he glanced at the clock above the widescreen TV.
"Holy fuck! It's half past seven, I must have fallen asleep in the bath or something. Now I've got to hurry!" he said out loud. It was essential that everything would go as planned tonight. And boy did he have a plan...
"And again!" rang Mitchell's cheery command. It made Lance sigh and rub his head with one hand. He was still feeling a little buzzed, despite having had eight hours of sleep instead of Chris's six. What on earth had Chris been doing up until eight o'clock in the morning anyway? "Wouldn't you like to know" was the only answer he'd give, along with a saucy wink and a wagged eyebrow. The little man had never required that much sleep anyway, so this was nothing new for him. Lance, on the other hand, while not being quite the sleep artist Josh was, still liked to sleep in after he'd been drinking. So, he was not in his best working condition.
"Come on guys, I know it's 6:30 p.m. and you're probably tired and still hung over from last night's celebration and all, but this is the last track that we absolutely need to get down today, and then we can all go home," Mitchell tried to encourage the tired singers.
"Let's fess up, guys, we can't make Lance late for his big date, can we? Let's do this and get going," was Justin's last effort to wring the last drops of energy out of his exhausted band mates.
And amazingly, it worked. What they didn't have the strength for to do for their own sakes, they did for their friend and brother. One for all and all that sappy stuff, but it still brought smiles to all worn faces when the job was finally done.
Lance's enthusiasm in the limo on the ride back to the hotel was fun to watch. As minutes and city rolled past, though, his old insecurities began to raise their ugly heads. 'What if he doesn't call? What if he calls and then wants only sex? I know what he said, but still. What if he calls and tonight goes great but then he doesn't want to see me again? I know I'm falling for him fast, how could I let myself fall this quick? He'd never want me anyway! I've got round cheeks and weird eyes that are too pale and an ugly pale body. And I'm such a wuss and I'm not even funny or good company or anything...'
Justin frowned at his friend from the opposite side of the limo, where he was snuggling under JC's protecting arm. It was clear that the green-eyes bass was being plagued with doubts once again. 'When will Lance see what we see when we look at him? He's an attractive, talented, extremely intelligent guy who's fiercely loyal to his friends and caring to all around him. He so deserves a chance for happiness. I'll help him get ready for tonight, that'll cheer him up and ensure that he's at his best,' decided Justin, his face brightening at the last thought. Some might call him shallow, but he liked to think that he knew how to enjoy the little things in life and not dwell on the bad stuff. And he too would do anything to make a friend happy.
When the limo arrived to the hotel after what seemed like hours to Lance but was actually only about twenty minutes, the guys trooped out of the vehicle and aimed for the elevators, barely dodging the hoards of rabid fans. Once they were on their floor, Justin gave JC a kiss on the cheek and a murmured explanation. The proud and loving gaze that JC sent back to his lover expressed his approval, and promised a reward for the kind act later.
Justin allowed an anticipatory shiver run through him before following Lance to his room. 'He's got such intense eyes!' he thought in a dreamy daze. 'I remember the one time he brought me to orgasm only by-'
"Justin! Are you sleepwalking or what? Did you want something?" Justin was snapped out of his reminisces by Lance's query. He blinked at his friend, not at first recalling what he'd come there for. Then it came to him.
"I'm here to help you prepare for tonight's big event. God only knows what you'd do without me here to hold your hand! Now go shower, it's already 7:20, I'll choose your outfit," Justin fussed, rapidly taking control of the situation. Lance was more than a little amused by his younger friend's bossy manner, but he was used to it. He was also very grateful, and thus only nodded obediently before digging a clean pair of briefs out of his bags and scurrying to the bathroom. He also very carefully neglected to tease his formerly curly friend about the tent he'd seen in his pants just a minute before, when he'd spaced out.
'I bet he was thinking about Josh,' Lance mused while washing his hair. He'd been sincerely happy for his two friends when they'd finally gotten together six months earlier. It had been amusing for a while to watch Justin dance circles around JC, who'd only turned more intense and more true to his nickname 'sex on two feet'. When they'd been found sleeping in the same bed all naked and cuddled together, glowing with sexhausted glory, their friends' reaction had been a "Finally!" from Joey and Chris and a dazzling smile from Lance. It was then that Lance had found the courage to blurt out the words "I'm gay, too" and it was then the he was answered, "So what's new?" by a smirking Chris. After that, all had been going great in *NSYNCland, what with a few minor lovers' spats and Lance's occasional bouts of depression.
'Things are definitely looking up,' he thought, looking forward to his evening with Marshall Mathers with only slight apprehension. Keeping that frame of mind he decided he was squeaky clean and turned the shower off. He patted his pale body dry, giving his reflection in the steamy mirror only a brief, habitual, disgusted glance. Putting the briefs on he made his way to the bedroom, where Justin had just about Lance's entire wardrobe laid out on the bed.
"Things are not as hopeless as they seem, my friend," Justin intoned, arcing his hand over the clothes on the bed. "Now if we combine this and this..." Justin was apparently in love with his new role as Lance's advisor on all matters of love and looks. As the younger blonde went on, Lance checked the time. 'Seven thirty. Half an hour to go, until and if he calls.'
In the hotel room right down the hall, Marshall Mathers was ordering a romantic meal from room service. "And bring some candles too, will you? The Argentinean red should go fine with the pasta, how the fuck should I know? Bring some soft drinks too, just to be on the safe side. And for dessert we'll have..." Marshall was getting tired of giving detailed instructions to the obsolete person on the other end of the line. "You know what a romantic dinner is, fucker? Just bring all the stuff I told you to and it's to be here by eight, you get that? Great!" he exclaimed, slamming the phone to its cradle.
'I think that's about it,' he thought, going through a mental checklist. 'Romantic music, dinner with candles, lights toned down. I'll order the movie later so that I can ask Lance if he has any preferences. Now what am I forgetting,' the rapper wondered, his naturally pouty lips pursed as he gazed down at his feet. His bare feet!
'Shit! I guess I should get out of this stupid bathrobe and put some clothes on,' he thought, startled by his forgetfulness. Chuckling sheepishly, he hurried to the bedroom, where he put on some light grey slacks and a blue v-necked shirt that brought out his eyes very nicely and followed the form of his torso. He added his usual aftershave. His hair was short enough not to require any brushing, the smooth platinum helmet it was.
When he was dressed and ready, Marshall checked his watch for the thousandth time that night. It was ten to eight. Not wanting to seem too eager, he tidied up the already immaculate suite until the room service waiter arrived with the food. After inhaling the delicious odours and accepting the man's offer of spreading the included candles artistically around the room, Marshall shoved him out the door and tipped him generously.
Checking his watch again, he decided it was time to call Lance.
He wasn't calling. Lance was sitting on the edge of his bed, which was still covered with clothes. Lance rubbed his hands on black-clad thighs and adjusted the cuffs of his white silken button-up, the top two buttons of which where unbuttoned to show off the elegant silver cross dangling from his neck. Every five seconds or so, he would glance at the clock on the night table, or at his wristwatch. His cell phone, which was on the bed next to him, got an almost uninterrupted stare. 'It's five past eight already! He hasn't called, and he won't,' Lance was agonising silently, while a concerned Justin observed his friend's anxiety. 'Why would he want to see me anyway, the ugly, stupid loser that I am-'
"Did he say he'd call you eight o'clock sharp or around eight?" Justin had the presence of mind to ask. He immediately congratulated himself as the light of understanding and hope began to dawn on Lance's expressive face.
"I don't remember, but I don't think he was too specific," Lance replied brightly, turning to beam at the younger man.
At that moment, the cell phone started to ring, and after staring at it disbelievingly for a few seconds Lance lunged for it, only to be stopped by a shout from Justin.
"Wait! Keep your cool, man! You don't want to seem too eager. Let it ring at least three times, otherwise you get no respect," Justin sagely advised his impatient band mate.
Lance was almost whimpering in his desperate need to answer the phone, and finally Justin let him. Of course only after moving so that he'd hear every word Lance and Marshall were saying.
"Hello?" Lance said breathily.
"Is this Lance?" came Marshall's unmistakeable voice over the phone.
"Yeah. Marshall?" Lance said softly in his lovely low rumble.
"That's me. You can come over any time you're ready now. I've got everything prepared," Marshall said.
"I'll be there in no time," Lance replied, which made Justin slap the back of his head and roll his eyes.
"I'll be expecting you, then," Marshall countered with an audible smile in his voice. "See you soon."
"Bye," was all that Lance had time to say before the phone went dead.
"What did I tell you about seeming too eager," Justin fumed. Then his mood lifted and mouth curved into a faint smile. "I do wonder what he meant about having everything prepared. Well, never mind, you'll find out soon enough. Here you go, just a tiny sprinkle of scent and you'll be irresistible," Justin said while adding the final touches to his 'masterpiece', primping a hair here and smoothing fabric there.
Lance swallowed his apprehensions, stood up, and walked to the door. He turned for a final inspection and asked Justin, "How do I look?"
Justin got up from the bed and took the sight before him. Lance was fresh from the shower, looking sharp as ever. The black slack showed off his long legs, hugging him in all the right places, and the white shirt added just the perfect impression of innocence and grace. The cross glinted alluringly from its resting place on his smooth chest. And most important of all, Lance's gorgeous jade eyes were shining from within, making his entire face glow with the hopefulness and excitement that lighted them.
'God, if I didn't love my Josh more than life itself, I would have begged on my knees for a year to have a chance with Lance. He is such a wonderful person, inside and out.'
"Oh, Lance," he said out loud, "you look absolutely fantastic. I wouldn't go out like that, though. It might be inconvenient if the world stopped turning just to drink in the sight of you, and if the moon came down from the sky to lay adoringly in your feet," Justin whispered almost tearfully, overwhelmed by the moment, a poet against his will.
"Thank you so much, Justin," Lance said, holding back tears, moved beyond belief by his friend's uncharacteristic emotional display. "Thank you for everything."
"Well, go already," Justin urged. "Remember that we leave for the studio at two tomorrow afternoon. And first thing in the morning, you're telling me everything!"
"It's a deal," Lance replied, opening the door to the hallway and stepping through. He walked slowly towards Marshall's suite, stopping briefly in front of the door to compose himself. He took a deep breath, summoned all his courage, and knocked on the door.
TBC
Quotes: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen World Of Our Own by Westlife
Sorry if the quotes aren't word and comma perfect, I recited them from memory.
Comments and suggestions for the plot are greatly appreciated. Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!