Every Little Thing I Do

HA! Who beat the word on the street? Go Mahka, oh yeah...actually, no, I'm REALLY sorry for this huge delay in between chapters and what not. Look at that, I actually felt so bad I had to post an announcement! But here it is, the next part in the saga of Lance and Mark, or Every Little Thing I Do. It's been such a long time since I actually wrote anything of decent stuff that I had to go reread everything! So do I suggest rereading everything? No. Do I suggest skimming through everything? Yes. Do I suggest reading the past two or so chapters completely? Yes. Just to bring you up to speed. Besides, if I just posted portions of the other chapters here, you'd have no idea what I was talking about, so that's kinda pointless.

A word to Michael, author of Lance and Michael...yes, I DID write something, you meanie. Oh, and here comes the rest of various bits and pieces of thanks and whatever. To Jeff, author of Twist of Fate...YAY! It's BACK! And to Gabriella of My Surprise Romance and countless other pieces of LanshSlash, found at http://railwayshoes.net/gabriella, a joy to read as always. Ryan...you are SUCH a freak. And everyone else who has noted anything, dropped a line, whatever, thanks for saying hi and pushing me along.

But to cover my own ass...I DON'T know when the next part of Every Little Thing I Do will be coming out. I'm in the process of getting a new computer and everything, so with all the wonderful file transfers, etc...yup. So, bug me now and then, but if I say fuck off, do so, please? :-)

OK, and here are the boring, various disclaimers. This is a FICTIONAL story involving the band NSync, specifically member Lance Bass. I do not know NSync in any way, shape, or fashion with the exception of what I can get off of fan pages, their official site, various interviews, and the like. I do not know the sexual orientations of any members, although a guy can dream, can't he? :-) I do not claim to know the personalities of any member of NSync either, and all reactions are the product of one deranged author.

If you're part of NSync, please e-mail me! If you're not, e-mail me anyway!

If you are offended by homosexual relationships, or are under 18 or the legal age in your area to view such "adult material", or your local laws/customs do not permit the reading of such material, then don't continue. If those rules apply to you, then don't get caught reading this if you do decide to go on and read it.

Previously in "Every Little Thing I Do"...

I could see the girls clutching their paraphenelia, bouncing in their chairs with all the excitement. I wanted to join them, but I had to act cool and collected. I turned to face the guys, and after receiving a nod from each of them, confirming they were ready, I started choosing from the sea of hands in the air.

Or, at least, I thought it would be a sea of hands. Instead, not a single hand was up. I guess the surprise showed on my face, because Chris leaned over and whispered "You have to get them going, they're all too excited." He grinned and leaned back in his chair. Ugh, I was so bad at doing this moderating thing.

"OK," I said, placing my hands on the podium. "I'm sure at least one of you has a question for the guys. Not everything is answered in those magazines, y'know." I looked out. Still nothing. I sighed, exasperated, and started to turn to Chris, seeking guidance from the oldest member of the group. That's when a piercing voice screamed from the back of the room.

"Lance, will you marry me?!"

Every Little Thing I Do

Chapter 14

By Mahka

I froze in shock, the room became dead silent, the guys just stared, and Lance looked petrified. Then the giggling started, starting from the back of the room and spreading quickly to the front as heads turned, trying to find the person who uttered that statement. The ice broken, the band members laughed along, Lance's being more wholesome than the rest, since, well, you know.

"Well," gasped Lance, using the microphone to cut through the laughter. "Maybe at some other point, but not right now, sorry, no." He gave one of his famous grins, the same one that kept me melting day in and day out, and at night too.

"Why not?" asked the girl from the back, standing up this time. Sure enough, clutched in her hands was a large sign with "Marry Me Lance!" scrawled on it and underlined, with glitter and pictures of him all over it. Stupid teeny-boppers. The atmosphere in the room lightened, and it was noticeable. "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"Well..." stalled Lance. I knew it. Here was the time. And I knew he couldn't look over at me because that would just give it all away. But look he did, straight at me. "Am I allowed to say? Did Mel give me permission?" he asked. I froze, not knowing what to do. Then I caught a wink from the side of his face facing away from the audience. I decided to play along, and reached behind me, pretending to talk into the microphone. I cocked my head, "listening," and turned back to him.

"Mel says you may reveal if you wish, but not who," I told him. He nodded his head.

"Well, at the moment, I'd just rather not reveal if I am or if I'm not. OK?" He gave her a grin.

There was a tittering coming from the back of the room, hushed whispers so that we couldn't hear it. And then, louder than the rest, an inadvertent "He MUST be!" and then back to whispers. Oh, how I wished I knew what they were saying!

I looked around, and there were a few hands raised tentatively in the air. I looked back at the guys, and they gave me reassuring smiles. I was about to call on someone else, but then the whispering got out of hand.

"Girls," I called. No response. "Girls! Excuse me!" Still no response. Getting exasperated, I left the podium and walked to the back, heads turning. I reached the area, and was shocked to see that it was not in fact a group of girls chattering but two girls and a guy, who had a picture of Lance in his hands, staring at it longingly. I knew that look. It was the smitten look, the one I knew I must have had a million times by now. Luckily, I could keep it in check when in public, but when we were alone...

But anyway, I stood behind them, waiting for them to shut up. When they didn't, I cleared my throat loudly. They jumped.

"Excuse me, guys, but you're disturbing the session. Either quiet down or leave. Thanks." I turned on my heel and walked back to the front, feeling the glaring stare at my back. I returned to my podium, and continued with the moderation of questions.

Thirty or so minutes later, I heard the call in my headphones, Mel's voice crackling over. "MG is over, get the boys back here for wardrobe and make up."

I held up my hands, signaling an end to the chatter that was now flowing back and forth. I had stopped moderating about half way through, when they guys proved that they could handle themselves and the audience wasn't so chock full of questions.

"I'm sorry, but they guys have to go now and get ready for the show. So, say good bye, take your final photos." I turned to the group sitting next to me. "And you five, shoo, before Mel has my head." I waved them off, out the side door, where a security guard held the door open for them. There were some final screams of "I LOVE YOU JUSTIN!" and "JC, MARRY ME!", and then it was done. The audience packed up, ready to head into the stadium.

"Thanks for joining us, guys, and enjoy the show. I know that they'll be putting on an extra special one for you tonight." A load of bull, but what the hell, it made them feel good.

I noticed one group of people that seemed to hang back, the trio that I had yelled at earlier. The one with two girls and the guy. He seemed down, his two friends consoling him with shoulder pats and whispers. Was he crying? I stood back, letting them deal with their own problems, cleaning up the excess pictures. But I was curious.

No, none of your business, the little voice in my head told me. Keep out of it Mark. You know that it's not right for you to interfere. ::sigh:: OK, fine. I continued clearing the table.

When I looked up, there were only two of them now, one of the girls having gone into the venue. As I looked on, the other girl gave some final pats, hugs, and left as well, leaving the boy alone in the room with me. He turned, head down, and plopped into a seat. Dude, this was an Nsync concert, where people were supposed to be so hyped up that they could barely breathe, so happy that they cried. Here was this boy, who I guessed to be about 17 or so, looking dejected, crying.

I set down the pictures I was about to put away, and walked silently up the aisle. He had light brown hair, nice slim frame, with just a hint that he worked out to keep in shape, broad shoulders, and a light tan. And from what I could see of his face, he had been blessed by good genes. But down this perfect face, I could see tear trails, and the occasional drop that came spilling out.

"Hey," I said softly.

He looked up, startled, and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling a bit.

"You're going to miss the show if you don't go, y'know," I continued. I stood and watched. His hair was messy, clothes wrinkled. Why did I feel that he had been crying practically all day and night? Having not slept?

"I know," he replied. "I don't care."

"What do you mean, you don't care?" I asked gently, sitting down in a chair across the aisle. "C'mon dude, you're here at an Nsync concert! Look at all those girls out there! I'm sure you can pick some one up!" Right out lie. I knew he was gay, and that he was lusting after my man, Lance. When I had gone back there, I saw it. But I couldn't let him know that - it would devastate him if he thought he was that obvious.

His reaction wasn't exactly what I wanted, or what I expected. He broke out into deep sobs, tears streaming down his face again. I don't think I had ever cried that hard for anything or anyone.

"Yeah, right," the boy sobbed.

"Huh?" I replied, playing along.

"I...I'm...I..." he choked out, gasping for air. "I'm gay! I'm fucking gay! All those girls out there don't do a fucking thing for me!" He broke down once again.

Great, what was I supposed to do? What do you do when a total stranger comes out in a traumatic way? I mean, it was one thing when it was a friend. There was that previous bond, that previous understanding that you could use. It's another thing when a stranger just outright tells you, but in a calm manner. It's completely different when a stranger gets all dramatic during the announcement. Great. Now what?

I sat and pondered for a moment, trying to figure out my actions. I finally reached over, and clasped the kid on the shoulder, shushing him, the occasional "It's ok...shh..." Bit by bit, he calmed down, the tears subsiding, the breathing becoming more regular. I did a quick, unobtrusive glance at my watch. I had 45 minutes before I had to be onstage, and I still had to go through makeup and wardrobe. I figured about 20 minutes for makeup, 10 for wardrobe. OK, I could deal with this guy for 15 minutes.

"You gonna be OK?" I asked.

"Yeah, I ::sob:: think," he replied.

"Mark, in case you don't remember. I'm a PA for the band." I held out my hand.

"Tom. Hi." He grasped my hand, strong and firm, although his gaze didn't match his grip. He kept his eyes on the floor.

"Tom, nice to meet you." I let go of his hand, and crouched down a bit lower, so that I could look up into his eyes, which were still downcast. "Listen, Tom, I know that it's tough, doing what you just did, and I'm glad you-"

He didn't let me finish.

"You know what makes me so mad?" he said, voice dripping with hurt.

"What's that?"

"That everyone automatically assumes that you're straight and thinks that all any guy wants to do is fuck the nearest girl."

I nearly choked on my own laughter. How many times had I thought that myself? I struggled to keep a straight, sincere face.

"And I can't stand it, always trying to put up a front at school with the guys. They'd kill me if they knew that I was gay! I'm always pretending to agree with them that such and such a girl is hot, and that I'd like to fuck her, even though she doesn't do a damn thing for me."

He paused, and looked me in the eye. "Do you know what that's like?"

I froze. Do I say "Yes" and reveal that I'm gay, possibly ruining Nsyncs image? Or say "No" and let it slide? He looked at me expectantly, sizing me up. I thought about his personality. Would he let such a thing as a gay crew member get in his way? I mean, all I was was a crew member, right? It wasn't like I was sleeping with any of the band members, right? Wrong. OK, bad question.

I slowed my speech, thinking hard. And then...

"Yes." I kept my gaze fixed on him.

Tom visibly jumped in his chair. "What?" His eyes shone with excitement. I had the feeling that I was the first gay person he knew.

"Yes, I do know what that's like."

"Wait, wait, so you mean your gay?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god, thank you!" He threw his arms around me, his face pure bliss, knocking me over in the process. "Thank you thank you thank you, someone who understands!"

My hunch had been right. Now, what to do? I had this boy slung around my neck, almost crying from happiness, and a concert to introduce soon.

"Tom," I said gently, prying him from my neck. "You're going to have to promise me one thing, as a gay person to another gay person, ok?"

"What's that?"

"You can't let anyone else, and I mean ANYONE else, including any gay friends you may have, that a gay man is working for Nsync, ok? It's all about the image."

"OK, you can count on me." And from the look in his eyes, I knew he meant it.

"I have a question for you," Tom said.

"Yeah?"

"Can you arrange a meeting for me with Lance after the show?"

"Sorry bud, the guys split after each show to avoid the crowds." What a lie. Four of the five usually did, but not one blond-spiked beauty. He stayed around to keep his boyfriend company, although recently it had become difficult to avoid suspicion. I think our "Well, he's my friend so I need to take care of him" excuse was wearing thin.

"Oh, ok." His face fell, and I could see the crumpled Lance picture in his hands.

"You like Lance, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"That's why your...sister?"

"Friend."

"Friend, asked that question, if Lance is seeing someone?"

"Yeah, for me."

"OK, I get it. Well, seeing how you've managed to ruin your picture of Lance, how about you wait here for just a minute while I get him to sign a new picture for you? Would that be OK?"

"Really? Can you do that?" His eyes instantly lightened.

I laughed. "Of course! I work for the guys!"

"That would be great!"

I picked myself off of the floor and started towards the door leading to the backstage area.

"Hey, Mark?" Tom called from behind.

I turned. "Yeah?"

"How old are you?"

"22," I lied.

"Oh."

"Why?"

"Well, I was hoping I might be able to work for the band."

I laughed again, a bit nervously this time. "If you're over 18 and able to do the grunt work, but you'll never see the guys. Or if you have a degree in management, production, or any sort of engineering."

"Oh, ok. Well, I'll be here waiting."

"Cool, be right back." I grabbed a Lance photo off of the table, one of my favorites, in black and white, and a pen, and headed out the door.

In the hall, I headed for Lance's dressing room, where I knew he should be. Backstage was chaos as the clock wound down toward showtime. On the monitors scattered throughout, I could hear the opening act wind up their set.

I thought of the close call I had in the room, the near PR disaster. I feverently hoped that Tom would keep his word and keep his mouth shut. Lance's door was on the right just ahead. I burst in, not knocking.

Lance was in his chair, naked from the waist up. He turned his head, startled at my entrance, visibly relaxing when he saw who it was.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically. "I have a quick request, then I'll let you continue changing. Just sign this, made out to Tom?" I walked over to the ledge that ran along the length of the make-up mirror, slapping down the photo and pen in front of him. I saw his hands cover his crotch, and he slid the chair under the ledge.

"My my Mr. Bass, what are you embarrassed about?" I pushed his chair out from under the ledge and lifted his hands. Lance was sporting a lovely erection, sticking straight out from his body, like I had seen time before. "Lance, have you been behaving?" I asked with a twinkle I my eye.

He shook his head no.

"What have you been doing to get yourself this excited?"

"This," he replied, and instantly started masturbating. His eyes closed and his back arched, as his right hand flew up and down the shaft and his left fondled his balls. "And thinking of you."

I started drooling, watching my boyfriend pleasure himself, and I really wanted to just get down in front of him and start sucking him off. Those last few words were especially exciting. I felt my own cock grow, straining the fabric of my pants.

"Lance," I tried to say forcefully, but it came out more like a desperate whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Lance." No response. "LANCE!"

He stopped, looking at me with puppy dog eyes, his cock throbbing under the intense feeling he had just been giving it. Oh, how I wanted nothing more than to have that hot rod down my throat. But there was business to attend to.

"Sign this!" I gestured to the photo on the desk.

"Fine," he murmured, picking up the pen. "Dear Tom," he scribbled. "Thanks for supporting us!" He paused.

"Love or from?" he asked.

I thought back to Tom. "Um, well, he's gay, and in love with you," I responded. I figured Lance could make up his own mind.

"From, ::scribble::"

"Thank you, I'll see you on stage!" I picked up the photo and pen and turned, heading back to where Tom was waiting. I glanced at the clock in the dressing room, and seeing only 20 minutes left until showtime, started jogging.

"Wait, I have a gay male fan who loves me?" came Lance's sonorous voice.

"Yes," I responded, opening the door. "Now, you better get crackin' at that, you've got 20 minutes, and you're not decent yet."

"Yes, sir!"

"But, if you continue through with that, you might not get desert tonight." I winked at went through the door, closing it behind me, the last sight of Lance being his utter confusion. I knew that he'd finish, otherwise he couldn't get into wardrobe. But maybe he wouldn't. That would be funny, watching him dance around in discomfort.

I raced back to the room, gave Tom the picture, a program (on me), patted him on the back, and told him to get his ass out to the venue. Before he left, though, he turned and said, "I'm in the third row on the left. Think Lance'll see me there?"

::Sigh:: "Maybe, I can't promise anything." Dammit, he's MY boyfriend! Go away!

"Alright. Well, thanks, Mark, for everything, and I mean EVERYTHING." With that, he went through the door, closing it behind him. I stood for a moment, then dashed out of the room to get makeup and wardrobe.

"Mark! Where the HELL have you been?!"

I whipped my head around and saw Kristen stomping down the narrow walkway.

"What?"

"Where have you fuckin' been?! Why aren't you answering Mel's calls on your walkie? Huh? Do you know where I've BEEN trying to find you? You know, as your PA for the set, I DO have responsibilities, and one of those is making sure that YOU are ready for the show ON TIME!"

"I-uh, I was..."

"And then I had to walk in on Lance jerkin' off. Yeah, you know, that's always a wonderful sight, to see a guy masturbate? He didn't know where you were either. Now, get to wardrobe!" She gave me a shove in the direction I had already been going and marched off in the opposite direction. I hustled my ass down to wardrobe. I had just gotten my first official chastising on the tour, and I knew that there would be more to come. That's how it was in entertainment, which people always seemed to forget.

And then my mind popped back to what she had said. "And then I had to walk in on Lance jerkin' off." I chuckled to myself as I picked up my wardrobe and changed. I would have to ask him about that later.

I tossed my headset aside into a little basket and changed in record time. A quick stop by make-up reassured me that I would look good, and then I picked up my mike and IEM. After a quick levels check with the techie, I headed for the wings of the stage. Tom's words came back to me, giving me a little bolster of confidence. And then I remembered that he had told me where he was. Shit, where was it? Somewhere on the left, right? Or was it the right?

"One minute," came the customary warning in my IEM.

Dammit, where did he say he was sitting?! I racked my brain. Somewhere...row...I forgot to tell Lance as well. Shit. Uh...

"Three...two...one...showtime."

Damn.

I stepped out into the lights for the second time in my life, knowing how the system worked now. I quickly glanced around in the first few rows. Nothing.

"WHAT'S UP NEW YORK CITAAAAAYYYYYYY?!" As usual, the customary screams, yells, sign waving. I wondered if I'd get bored of this after a few more introductions.

"ARE YOU FEELIN' HOTTTT?! MAKE SOME NO-OOIIISSEE!" I scanned the first few rows again. I remembered that much...Tom was somewhere in the front. And then I saw him. Stage right, third row. And just in time too. I saw the stage manager giving me the wrap up signal. I moved center stage.

"IT'S NNNNNNSSSSYYYYYYYYYNNNCCC!!!"

Just on cue, the stage opened up beneath me and swallowed me, the doors clanging shut above as I lay on the cushions underneath. I rolled off, handed my tech gear to a waiting sound engineer, gave Kristen a quick rundown of crowd, stage condition, the whole thing, and bolted back to the backstage area. I had another song before their first costume change, giving me plenty of time to position myself to intercept Lance quickly and pass on where Tom was sitting.

Five minutes later, the guys came rushing breathlessly backstage, stripping off their clothing. Wardrobe personnel swarmed like a bunch of busy bees, removing items and putting on others. I jumped into the team working on Lance.

"Hey, Lance, Tom, he's sitting stage right, row three. Just notice him, ok?"

"Ok, will do," he said in a breathless gasp as he shrugged on another shirt. The wardrobe crew started to peel off, hanging up their previous costumes. One or two people stayed behind to straighten everything, and then left. I helped Lance out again.

"Oh, just not during any of the slow, sappy romance ballads, ok? That's for ME."

"OK, ok, fine...I wasn't going to anyway. I gotta go now."

"Hold on, there's something wrong with your pants...oh, now that's something that can't be taken care of right away. What'd you do, stick a cucumber down there?" He grimaced as I gave his erection a quick squeeze. I then pushed him off, slapping him on the ass as he left. Ah, romance and hormones...what they could do to a guy.

I changed back out of my clothes in wardrobe and settled into a chair to wait out the rest of the show.

Countless costume changes later, the final chords were struck and the five members came trotting down the narrow curtain hall. Lance grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of my chair, pulling me along.

"C'mon, different city, we've got a different escape plan. We have to make it out to the limo now before the fans let out." Lance removed his mike and IEM from his head, tossing them to a line of waiting techies. "Wait, limo? Didn't you come in a van?" I asked. "Yeah, but we get a limo back...a little bit of comfort after a night of hard work," he responded, stripping off his shirt, pulling it over his head. Unfortunately, he got a little tangled in the fabric, and started flailing his arms. What a perfect situation, I thought. Lance without his vision, stripped down to a wifebeater and his wardrobe pants, hot and sweaty...mmm.

As much as I wanted him right there, in front of all the people, I played the part of a good PA and helped him out of his costume and handed it off to a wardrobe person I recognized.

I followed the five of them out, jogging towards the cargo doors and the limo, who's door was open, waiting. Evan stood outside the door, waiting, watching for the five most important people of the tour. And a straggler.

"One, two, three, four, five! We've got 'em, let's roll," Evan announced into his headset. Five? Wait, me?! Oh, that's right...not me. The door slammed shut on us and the limo took off, the six of us still squirming around in the seats, trying to get settled in.

"So, Mark, not a bad second time," complimented JC.

"Yeah, you didn't mess up the city name!" commented Chris.

"Shut up!"

"Hehe, whatever."

"So what's up for the rest of the night guys?" I asked.

"Well, I'm gonna go hit some clubs," announced Chris.

"I think I'll join him, assuming I can get myself in," added Justin.

"Me three," said Joey. "I KNOW I can get in, and I'll probably get myself a couple of ladies too." He stretched himself out, looking smug.

"What about you?" asked JC.

"Me? I don't know how you guys manage to do it, but I'm going back to my room. I need some sleep, and I need to contact home before I do so," I replied.

"You, Scoop?"

"Probably stay in with Mark. I don't want to be a bad host," replied the green-eyed stud.

"Cool, we can hang out together then."

Lance's leg tightened next to mine. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I'm staying in tonight too. I'll probably work a bit on that song, but I might just chill," answered JC.

"Not bad, that's cool," said Lance. But the tension in his leg said that it wasn't cool. I couldn't blame him. For once, we were alone, away from the rest of the group, and JC had to go ahead and stay in.

"Hey, maybe you could give me some songwriting tips," I chimed in, trying to defuse the situation. I let my hand drift between our legs, which wasn't very noticeable in the dim lighting. I gave his thigh a quick tap, signifying that I would be OK with it, as long as he wasn't too mad.

"Hmm, maybe. I'll see." JC turned to look out the window. I glanced at the other three members, who seemed to be dozing.

"Wait, they're asleep. How are they going to go clubbing later on?" I asked.

"Well, you remember them last night, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Same thing," Lance said.

"Oh."

His right hand drifted down towards mine, seeking the fingers. I responded gently, grasping his hand, allowing his long, sleek fingers intertwine with my own. I felt incredibly at ease with this action, even though I knew that we hadn't told the four guys yet. Still, with three of them asleep and one of them on the other side of Lance, it was safe. The privacy partition was up between us and the driver, so we were all "alone," if one could call us alone. We lapsed into silence, and I gazed out the window at the twinkling lights of New York.

Once again, I thought back to how it started, and where we had progressed in the short time. Our meeting had been electric, the contact jolting. It was as if we were meant to be. But were we? I still had doubts, little nagging voices roiling in the back of my head. About what it really was about Lance I was in love with. If I could handle this whole thing, being only my second ever relationship. Second. Damn, I couldn't believe it. After two years of college, you'd think that I'd have gone through my fair share of hook ups and break ups. Not a chance. In fact, that first relationship wasn't even in college!

I turned back to look at Lance, just for some reassurance, and found him staring at me, just a few inches away. I pulled back, emitting a gasp and tightening my lose grip on his hand. He jerked away, startled.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, regaining my composure. "You just scared me, that's all."

"Ah, ok. So, is it ok for me to be this close?" he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. He moved closer to me, his broad face just inches away from mine.

"How 'bout a little closer?" I suggested, moving my face closer. An inch, not even. I started to turn my head, preparing for a brief smooch.

"Achem."

Lance and I jerked away from each other, our hands coming apart. Both of us looked at JC.

"Secrets? You know the saying, Lance. 'Whisper whisper all you may, all your friends will go away.' Naughty naughty."

"JC...uh..." Lance stuttered.

"We, umm...well..." I supplied.

"Never mind guys, it's ok. I'll talk to you about it later, back at the hotel." With that, he turned back to the window, watching as the lights started to turn off, one by one.

"Oh, shit," Lance whispered. "He's figured it out."

"Yeah, well...how much do you trust JC?" I whispered back.

"A hell of a lot, I guess, but-"

"Then we're fine."

The remaining few minutes was completed in silence, and upon arriving at the hotel's rear entrance, we shook awake the three sleeping princes, and clomped into the elevator, Lance vouching for me when stopped for my ID.

We headed towards our rooms, exhausted, but the three clubbers were gearing up again, starting to talk excitedly. Lance slipped his key into the door and opened it.

I walked into the room first, Lance following. He nearly ran me over as I stared at the scene before me.

"What are you doing here?!" I yelled. Ken was standing in the middle of the room, between the two beds, a pair of boxers clutched in his hands, which he tried to hide behind his back.

"Mark, what's going on?" came a bass. "I was just dropping off your care package," he said nervously, gesturing to the cell phone, credit card, and other goodies on my bed.

"No, no, not that. That." I pointed to the clothing behind his back.

"Oh, that, uh, I was just..."

"Hey, wait a minute, aren't those mine?" asked Lance.