Justin grunted as he flopped down next to Chris. Watching the older man's face, he waited patiently to Chris to ask him what he wanted.

Or not so patiently. "Lance has a hickey."

Chris didn't even glance away from the television. "He does not. Stop lying."

"I'm not lying! Go see for yourself."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not."

"He does too, you old fart!"

He shook his head. "Lance doesn't have a hickey. Hush your mouth, snotface."

He pouted. "Dammit. Hmmph. Joey!" He perked up as the Italian wandered into the room.

"What?"

"Lance has a hickey."

Joey rolled his eyes. "Sure, Justin."

"He does!" Making a face, he crossed his arms over his chest at the skepticism on Joey's face. "Jesus, how come no one believes me?"

"Well..."

"It's Lance," Chris explained slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. A really damn annoying toddler, who happened to be distracting him from his extremely important job of watching "Aladdin" for approximately the seventy-fourth time. That day.

"So? It doesn't mean that he can't, just once, have a one-night stand with some really kinky chick he met in a club last--okay, not last night, I know he stayed in his room last night, but a night or two ago, and the hickey's just now showing up." Of course it was possible, he decided silently, and, wow, Chris and Joey could raise their eyebrows pretty damn high. Huh.

Chris grinned and turned his attention back to Jasmine. "Whatever, kid."

Joey frowned. "Even if he did decide to hook up sometime, he knows better than to get a hickey right before an awards show. PR would have a collective apoplexy."

Justin smirked. "Ooh, that's right. Make-up's gonna freak."

"About what?"

Justin glanced over to see JC come in. "Lance has a hickey."

JC blinked. "Lance?" Scratching his head, he thought about this for a moment. "We are talking about the same Lance, correct? The one who didn't want to grab his crotch for 'Bye Bye Bye'?"

"Uh huh."

"Umm...how?"

"Because Justin made it up. Now sssh, they're about to kiss."

Justin bopped Chris on the head. "Big fuckin' deal, you've seen that damn movie a thousand times, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Lance. Our Lance--our innocent, angelic, naive little Lance--has a hickey."

"Jesus Christ, it's probably a zit. Leave me alone."

He fumed. "It is not a zit! I know a goddamn hickey when I see one!"

"Maybe he's got leprosy," Joey suggested. At the cockeyed looks he received, he shrugged. "Okay, so it's either that or it really is a hickey. Which is more likely?"

Silence.

"Maybe we should call the doctor."

Picking up a cushion, Justin smacked the older man in the head. "Shut up and watch your movie. Non-believers aren't invited."

"Better count me out."

"Me too."

"You guys suck." Suddenly, he cocked an ear. "Okay, ssh, ssh, I hear him coming."

"And would this have anything to do with how he got his hickey?"

Joey and JC were still laughing when Lance walked in.

Justin glanced up sulkily at Lance. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Suddenly letting out a furious scream, he leaped off the couch and tackled the blond to the ground. "The bastard! Is wearing! A turtleneck!"

"Yeah, probably to keep your damn nosy self away from him," Joey grumbled, reaching down and prying Justin's fingers off of their bass, one by one.

"You're not supposed to touch a leper, baby boy."

"Shut up, Chris."

Lance blinked a few times, then apprehensively slid out of Justin's reach and scrambled to his feet. "Okay, next time I'm not allowed to walk into a room, would you kindly let me know ahead of time?"

"We'll try."

"I appreciate it."

Still sulking on the floor, Justin glared up at him with dark, accusing blue eyes. "You have a hickey."

"Hmm." He sat down on the couch with Chris, directing his attention at the television.

"He's not denying it!"

"Shut up, Justin," they all mumbled at the same time.

He scowled, pushing himself to his feet. "A pox on all your houses." Running a hand through his hair, he thought for a minute. "I might as well--" He was cut off by a loud knock on the suite door. "Now who the hell is that?"

"It is a hotel, Justin. And there are a hell of a lot of people here that we know. It could be a lot of people."

"Did I ask you, hickey boy?" Raising his voice, he called, "Who is it?"

"Room service!" chirped a shrill falsetto. "You ordered a large platter of 'we are gonna beat your asses'?"

Amazing, how even their groans were synchronized.

"Carter," they sighed in unison.

"You know," Joey remarked, as Justin shuffled to the door, "rumor has it that's his real voice."

"My shock knows no bounds."

Heaving a truly impressive sigh, Justin pulled open the door. "Tell me why the hell you're here or I will crack your skull with my bare hands."

"Remind me not to come beggin' for a cup of sugar."

He glared. "What do you want?"

"What, not happy to see me?" Nick demanded, blue eyes enormous with forced innocence.

"I'm not having a good day," he grumbled. "First Lance has a hickey, then no one fucking believes me, and Disney is brainwashing the old fogey, and the bastard comes in wearing a turtleneck, and then you show up..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Nick cocked his head. "Lance has a hickey?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Jesus, at least someone believes me. Poofu! Come show Carter your hickey!"

A rumbly grunt.

"Please?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry I called you a bastard."

"Hmmph."

Justin shrugged, turning back to Nick. "I tried. Sorry. It's there, though. Right on the side of his neck. All dark and shit."

"Wow." Nick looked impressed. Leaning into the hallway, he hollered, "Hey! Howie! C'mere a second!"

Moments later, the older man appeared. "Hi, Justin. What's up?"

Justin grinned. "Lance has a hickey."

His eyes widened. "Lance? You're shittin' me." He stood on his tiptoes, straining to see into the suite over Justin's shoulder. "How?"

Back on the couch, Lance was rolling his eyes into the next room.

Joey glanced over at the blond. "You really have a hickey?"

Lance ignored him.

Nick looked down at his watch. "Yo, D, we have to leave for rehearsal in, like, five minutes ago. Let's roll." With that, they took off down the hall.

"Good luck!" Justin hollered after their retreating forms. "You're gonna suck anyway!"

*

"Interesting news from *NSYNC," Nick commented, tossing back half of his water bottle in one draught.

"Which would be?" Kevin inquired, tucking flyaway strands of hair behind his ears.

"Lance has a hickey."

"Bullshit."

"Honest."

He frowned. "Have you even seen it?"

"Nah, but Justin has."

Kevin shrugged. "Justin's a lying little bitch. I wouldn't stop the presses just yet."

*

The door slammed shut. "I have a hickey."

"How about that."

"It's your fault."

"I'm sorry."

Glare. "You are not."

Shrug. "No, not really."

Pause.

"Can I see it?"

"No."

Pout. "Please?"

"No."

"Can I give you another one?"

"No."

"Can I kiss you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You got me in trouble. You get none, lover."

"You're a cruel, heartless bastard, you know."

"Yeah."

"Can I kiss you now?"

"No."

Pause.

"Now?"

"No. Hey, hey, go away, get off of me, I said no!"

"Since when do I have to ask permission to kiss my boyfriend?"

"I said--"

Shudder.

"Mmm."

Smile. "That's what I thought."

*

Nick Carter squinted curiously. "I'll be damned."

"Probably," Brian agreed, coming up behind him. "Why so recently?"

"Hush." He pointed. "Lance really does have a hickey."

"Lance has a...what?" Following Nick's gaze, he mumbled, "Put your arm down, it's rude to point..." He slowly trailed off. "Wow. He does."

"You know, the cameras will catch you staring at the competition," a smooth voice purred in their ears. "This is an awards show."

They turned quickly to see AJ smirking at them. "Shut up, McLean. Look." He jerked his head toward where *NSYNC was sitting. "Lance has a hickey."

Dark eyes smiled. "How about that."

*Holy shit. Where did this come from? Oh boy.*

Have me arrested for treason.

Or go home.