This is to Izzy (to whom also a million thanks for betaing!), Rob and Dan, Metra, Peter, Ryan, SumSum, Korandda, and all the other wonderful people who have graced me with their kind and helpful comments. Hell, it's to everybody who takes the time to read it! Enjoy...
Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m) content, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any likeness to people personally known to me is either purely coincidental and unintended, or not in any way malevolent.
NEEDING YOU CHAPTER 17 by Neqs
"Do you realise that we've found the perfect, non-fattening dessert? I think we even burned calories having it!"
Marshall looked at Lance fondly. They were both sprawled on the bed, catching their breath from their latest 'light snack'. 'Dessert' had been the theme of the day from breakfast onwards.
"Sweetheart, we definitely did burn calories, but I doubt we were the first to discover the joys of dessert."
"Yeah, but wow!" Lance sighed, gazing at the high, white ceiling lazily.
"What are we gonna do now?" The question made Lance turn his face towards his lover and waggle an eyebrow artfully.
"Well," he drawled, "we did the kissing thing, the licking thing, the finger thing thing, the gentle nail thing, the nibbling thing, the light chewing thing, and the nuzzling thing, oh and the eye-lash thing, can't forget that one. I really wish your hair was a little longer, hon, the hair thing is just lovely," Lance finished his list in a satisfied, dreamy tone of voice.
"I ain't growing my hair long," Marshall mock-growled, rolling on top of Lance. "We've glossed over something vital, Jamie baby," he continued in a serious tone, raising his head to look his lover square in the eyes.
"What?"
"We've forgotten to do... the toe thing."
The mere mention of 'the toe thing' made Lance's eyes roll back in his head and a shiver run though him. His breathing, which had evened out during the recuperation period, quickened again as his lover travelled lower, lower down his body until he made Lance forget about thinking about anything, anything at all.
"I can't believe you haven't done it!" Lance's eyes were wide in disbelief. Marshall's evaded them.
"Cut it out, will you?" Lance was wonderful no matter what, it was like a law of nature or something, but hearing him state his amazement at Marshall's ignorance for the twelfth time or so had made his magical charm wear out, a little anyway. The tiny amount that it was possible to.
"It's not my fault I'm not a freak like you, babe."
"Freak?" Those eyebrows were way deadly. Marshall knew for sure that Lance didn't pluck them, so it made no sense for them to be so perfect and curving. Then he revised his though. It was Lance, after all, so yeah. Perfection was perfectly normal for him.
Marshall groaned in the quiet of his mind and hid his face in his hands. He sure was far-gone. Not that he minded much, though... Lance was worth every bit of it. It was just such a shame that he had the ability to turn Marshall's brain into mush so easily, sometimes even without doing anything. But could he call it a shame when he throroughly enjoyed it?
Lance, tapping away on his laptop, was oblivious. "You're the freak here, hon. You take correspondence courses, I just can't believe you've managed to do that without setting up an e-mail account. Is that even possible?"
"Jamie." It wasn't quite a whine. He hoped. "I just never got around to it, believe it or not - and you've made very clear that you don't, and can't, believe it. So, now you got me one and we can forget about this, right?"
Lance peered into the hopeful blue eyes of Marshall Mathers and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry hon, I've been a pain, haven't I?"
"Nah. Well, just a little. But it's okay, 'cause I adore you."
"Okay." And it was.
"Fuck!" Lance looked up in surprise at Marshall's sudden outburst. The rapper, who'd just a moment before been contentedly stroking the back of Lance's neck, making him hum in satisfaction, now jumped up and began pacing up and down the room, making frantic gestures.
"How could I forget it? Oh fuck fuck fuck! What's the time? Fucking fuck!"
Lance sighed. Marshall was obviously very upset with himself for some reason. They'd had a peaceful day until that moment, enjoying each other's touch and closeness. They'd barely left the bed, except to bring in the breakfast cart and then later to fetch Lance's laptop. Now, that peace had been shattered, and Lance was afraid to find out what was the cause of Marshall's anxiety.
"Hon. Hon?" For a moment the other didn't seem to hear him, wrapped up in his thoughts. Then he seemed to snap out of it, turning towards Lance. "What's wrong, Em?"
Lance was expecting something dreadful. The answer he got wasn't that.
"Hailie." Lance stared at him mutely, and then blinked. Hailie.
"Your daughter?" How did this construe a disaster? Lance was getting more confused by the minute. Luckily, Marshall didn't keep him in the dark for long.
"Yeah, she's... She's coming here, I mean, to the hotel. I haven't seen her in ages, and Kim had some business here, and since I knew I'd be staying here for a few days I thought it'd all work out great. I was so excited, but it somehow slipped my mind. And when I heard you were coming, well, let's just say that I haven't thought much about anything else!" Marshall was flustered now, not so angry anymore. Lance tried to calm him down.
"Sweetie, when is she coming? It's three p.m. now, she isn't coming tonight, is she?"
"Yes she is! That's why I'm flipping out here! She'll be here in two hours!" Okay, the calming down wasn't working. In fact, Marshall seemed to be on the verge of outright panic. The situation demanded quick and decisive action.
Marshall had stopped pacing to and fro, but his hands were still sketching wild shapes into the air, and his eyes were glazed over. Lance looked him over appraisingly, deciding which course of action to take. Then he reached out and grabbed the startled rapper, pulling him on the bed in a rolling tumble that put Lance on top, which suited him just fine. He proceeded to kiss the man thoroughly and with purpose. The mild protests soon subsided, as Marshall got more into the intense kiss, momentarily distracted from his worries.
After a few minutes of this, Lance pulled back to observe the results. Marshall was flushed a nice shade of pink, his short hair was in a respectable state of disarray, his soft lips were very red and wet, and his eyes were glazed over in a most gratifying way. He looked dazed, but happy. Satisfied with his success, Lance slid from on top of Marshall to lie by his side, gently stoking his temples and making shushing noises.
"Em, sweetie." It took a few seconds for Lance's words to seep through to the rapper's overwhelmed brain.
"Hmm?"
"Hailie." The word was enough to cause Marshall to start flailing about weakly.
"Hon, stop that. Or do I need to kiss you senseless again?"
Another few seconds. Then Marshall seemed to wake up and shake himself, and he was smiling slightly when he turned to face Lance on the bed, calmer now.
"Okay. I'm okay. I wouldn't want you to KISS me now, that's just plain wrong!"
Lance was reassured by his boyfriend's weak attempt of humour. "Listen to me baby. Hailie is coming today, and that's not a reason to panic. It's great, and I'm thrilled to get to finally meet your daughter. I can hear in your voice that she's precious to you, and I'm honored that you're willing to share this side of your life with me. I mean... If you are?"
Reality check: no matter how strong Lance could be when it was needed, he was human. More so, he was a man in love, and that made him vulnerable in a million ways. He could take a lot, face a lot, but it was his love that gave him his strength, and it couldn't help him much when it in itself was in the heart of the problem.
Marshall, however, was quick to dispel his lover's insecurities. "Of course I want that, Jamie! James, I've thought about it so much, wanting the two most important people in my life to meet each other. That will make me so happy I can't even start to describe it."
Lance, who could hear the truth in his voice and read it in his eyes, felt warm again, centred. It scared him a little - a lot - that his happiness revolved to tightly around just one person, but he still wouldn't have changed it for the world. He made a mental note to think about it more when he had time. Right now he needed to concentrate on other things.
"Okay then, I'm glad that's settled. Now, let's plan!" Marshall had to smile at that. Planning seemed to be one of Lance's favourite hobbies, along with sex and shopping.
"Hmm...what does Hailie like to do?"
"Um, she likes to listen to music, and watch cartoons. And she loves junk food." Lance sighed.
"They all sound like very intellectually stimulating activities. Well, at least the music thing is good for her."
"She likes the Backstreet Boys."
"Damn! I guess I'll have to give her a few of our albums to improve her taste." Marshall curved his lips indulgently.
"Sure babe, whatever you want."
A little less than two hours later there was a knock on the door. Marshall glanced around the room, checking one more time that it was presentable. He nervously ran his fingers through his freshly washed hair, drew a deep breath, and opened the door.
"Daddy!" Before Marshall could reach out to embrace his daughter, Kim swept into the room, making him step back.
"Here she is! I'm already late, but I'll pick her up around nine, okay? I've got a room a few floors below. Don't do anything stupid, Marshall, all I need to do is call my lawyers and you're in deep shit. Now, Hailie, you have my cell number, call me if daddy does something that makes you uncomfortable, okay? Bye!"
For a moment all Marshall could do was stare at the slammed-shut door, a wry, ironic smile crept over his face. Breezing into his life, or out of it, making it heaven, or making it hell, that seemed to be all she had ever done. Bitch. Then a clear voice shook him from his moment of contemplation.
"Daddy?" He turned to the other star in his sky.
"Yes sweetie?"
"Hug me, dummy!" So he did, savouring the feel of her tiny frame against his own, breathing her in. It was a minute or so before he could let go of her, reluctant even so.
"You've grown so much! You're a big girl already, Hailie honey," he said, stepping back to better admire her.
She giggled proudly. "You haven't grown at all, daddy! What are we gonna do? I wanna watch cartoons!"
Soon Marshall had her settled on the sofa, enraptured by the adventures of Cow and Chicken. He went to the bedroom.
Lance looked up from his laptop. "Can I come out of hiding now?"
Marshall smiled sheepishly, embarrassed even though Lance didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, sorry about that, it's just, Kim, and-"
Lance cut his ramblings off with an airy gesture. "Em, I understand, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I love you, remember? Anyway, isn't there a lady you should introduce me to here somewhere?"
Curled comfortably in the sofa corner, Lance took a moment to observe the other inhabitants of the dimly lit room.
Little Hailie's attention was once again riveted to the TV screen, where the magic carpet was doing tricks. Lance thought she was beautiful. She was so small and delicate, and she reminded him of Marshall in startling, heart-wrenching ways. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, not at all. It just reminded Lance of all those little, abstract things that were so beautiful and inherently valuable they hurt. It was a good pain, a sweet pain, that didn't make it hurt any less.
Marshall was also paying rapt attention to the film, not wanting to miss the experience of watching Disney's Aladdin with his daughter. Lance knew the contrast should have been absurd; he found it incredibly endearing. He idly thought that it was perhaps lucky that Marshall couldn't show his true self for the entire world to see - everybody would fall in love with him, and that would be bad both for Lance and for boy-bands in general. Here was a charmer whose potential went wasted, used only behind closed doors among trusted friends and loved ones. On the other hand, using it on the ones he held most dear couldn't really be considered waste.
Maybe it was only the fact that he knew Marshall so well that made Lance think the world of him? There was such a wonderful thrill in being on the same level with someone, forming the unique connection that left them finishing each other's sentences and thinking of the same thing at the same time. Lance quickly discarded the idea. He already shared an intimate bond with four other people, but no one had ever touched him with the same intensity of emotion as Marshall Mathers, the man of many conflicts. When he'd met him, it had felt like all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into their places, inspiring awe at how something so complex could be presented in such a simple, flawless form.
Of course there'd been ups and downs, and some hard times in their relationship, and Lance had no doubt that there'd be many more in the future. They were both only human, after all, and it wasn't realistic to assume that they'd never argue. Lance was also well aware that without the downs, there wouldn't be any ups either; just steady, empty, uneventful going that avoided personal growth and any other kind of progress, development, or change in general.
Meeting Hailie, Lance observed on a tangent, had been an interesting development. It had been fascinating to watch father and daughter interact, and the knowledge that this was a sight only the few and privileged were allowed to behold made it even more precious. And the little princess was a natural born heartbreaker. She knew exactly the power of her clear, pleading eyes and winsome smile. Luckily, she wasn't the only one with a secret weapon. The famous Southern charm did have its uses.
Marshall was trying to concentrate on the movie, but for several reasons, he found his mind drifting back into the events of the past few hours. All had gone well, despite his inexplicably frazzled nerves and tied tongue.
When they'd gone into the other room, finding Hailie from the sofa with her undivided attention on the TV, it had been Lance who'd gone to Hailie, introduced himself, and proceeded to make friends with her in an informal, yet respectful manner that Hallie seemed quite taken with. Marshall had been too numb and tingly to utter a sound. Yes, HE knew it wasn't possible to be numb and tingly at the same time, but his body didn't!
In the end, everything had worked out just fine. Marshall couldn't help but be surprised, even though he'd managed to get through his at times rough life with his belief that, when it really mattered, things always worked out, intact.
They had eaten McDonald's hamburgers and fries with extra ketchup, Hailie daintily, Marshall distractedly, and Lance with relish because he hadn't eaten junk food in awhile, trying to keep trim. Marshall thought it was rubbish, and that Lance should be able to eat anything he felt like eating, because he was perfect just the way he was. He was glad that Lance seemed to agree with him, that evening at least.
He was also tired. His body began to feel heavy, and his mind light as they started to separate for the night's duration. He tried to sharpen up, but couldn't concentrate on the action on the screen, and his thoughts eluded his slippery grasp. Slumping down on the sofa, Marshall began to gradually nod off. Before the last of his consciousness slipped away, he knew there was something he should remember. Something...
As the last of the end credits rolled, only one of the three people in the room was still awake. He watched the other two sleep curled into each other, struck by the poignancy of his feelings at the sight. They made him want to stop the world in order to keep them together, and dream of a little house with a beautifully tended garden, filled with laughter and warmth.
What he had seen, what Marshall had trusted him enough to let him see, was a facet of the rapper's life that left Lance feeling humble and honoured, and also strangely, with more appreciation for himself. If he had earned the love and trust of this man, what call did he have to belittle himself?
An urgent knock on the door roused Lance from his musings. He glanced at his watch; it was almost eleven. He wondered why the time was relevant tonight. Then he remembered. He hesitated, but rose to open the door anyway. The moment he did so, the person on the other side burst in.
"I'm so sorry, I- Who the hell are you?"
TBC
Oops, I did it again, didn't I? Sorry guys & gals, I just couldn't find a suitable 'peaceful' place where to end the chapter. I hope no one dies from suspense before the next chapter!
Comments are greatly appreciated. Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if you have time. Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to write. I'm especially glad to hear your ideas for the plot. I take requests if I find them interesting, and I often do. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!