Been a long time, Been a long time... been a long lonely lonely lonely time

[paperdollkisses.livejournal.com]

Hello ladies and gents... you know me... Quite surprising that I'm picking

Basez
How about JC wooing Lance?

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[epicflailer.livejournal.com]

Lance was exhausted when he stumbled into his hotel room. There’d been one too many interviews, five too many photoshoots, and about one million, three hundred thousand, twenty seven too many screaming fans to deal with in one day. So when he almost tripped over a small black box lying just inside the doorway, Lance was less than amused.

“What the fucking hell—” he cursed, stopping short of kicking the offending object across the room. He bent down to pick it up, shutting the door with his foot, turning the small case over in his hands. There was a note on the back. Play me.

Frowning, Lance walked into the bathroom on auto-pilot, still inspecting the box. Then he looked up. Froze. Blinked twice. “Holy shit.”

The bathtub was filled with water, foam and possibly the scent of strawberry. There was a bottle of champagne on a stand beside the sink, and a stereo player next to that. Lance let the sight sink in, and then did the only logical thing he could think of – he opened the package, and slid the blank cd into the player.

Then he locked the door, stripped, and stepped into the tub, letting the soothing sounds of Garth Brooks wash over him. After all, it would be completely unfair to make his (rich, thoughtful) stalker go through the trouble for nothing.


There was a bouquet of flowers waiting outside Lance’s door the next morning when he woke up, rested and considerably more cheerful than the day before. He picked it up, gingerly, and sniffed it, like he might break out in hives at any moment. Lance glanced around the empty hallway, before sifting through the flowers for the card. “I hope you had a good night,” he read aloud, before biting his lip and going back inside the room to find the flowers some water.


“What took you so long? I’m starving,” Chris grumbled, as soon as Lance stepped into the room. “Who made up this no eating unless we’re all here thing anyway? It doesn’t make sense.”

Pointed silence greeted Chris’ statement, and the rest of the guys turned to look at each other with identical expressions. “Fine,” Chris said, rolling his eyes, “that would be me. I got it. Can we eat now?”

It took Chris two seconds to realize that everyone else was already busy tucking in. “Hey!” he protested, but then gave up and started on his meal. “And you haven’t explained why you’re late, Bass!”

“I—” Lance started, thinking fast, but he was saved by a waiter coming up to them, and coughing politely, before holding out a wrapped package.

“Uh, this is for you, sir.” He mumbled. Lance thanked him and took it without a word; he had the sneaking suspicion he knew what it was. Before he could open it, though, Chris had leaned over and done it for him, and was choking on his cornflakes from laughing so hard. “Chocolates? In a *heart*shaped box? Damn, Lance.”

“What?” Lance said, hotly, embarrassed, snatching it back from Chris. “I can’t have a secret admirer because you don’t have one?”

Chris was laughing too hard to reply.