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.