Thieves

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.

2. I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.

Mitch leaned uncertainly on his crutches, staring across the room at Wade, the wheels of his mind churning frantically. Wade watched him dispassionately, his dark eyebrows raised as he waited for Mitch to answer, a scowl on his face that he hadn't bothered to conceal. His crossed arms bulged, highlighted by his sleeveless t-shirt, the kind of outfit Justin liked to see him in. Wade didn't like Mitch, and Mitch knew it, so Wade saw no point in pretending he was here for something pleasant. Mitch thought about the money, thinking, for a moment, that it might be a solution, that it could be the way out of his situation. Wade might be offering the money for his own reasons, whatever they were, but Mitch could take it as a godsend, to get him out of this without having to hurt someone who cared about him. He wouldn't mind taking money from Wade, but this way, he wouldn't have to hurt Lance.

"Fifty thousand dollars?" Mitch asked, his mind turning over the money.

"Fifty thousand," Wade answered, nodding. "I'll take you to the nearest bank in the morning and cut you a check. Hell, I'll even give it to you in cash. Fifty thousand dollars."

"And all I have to do is leave?" Mitch asked.

He'd left before, run away, and he knew how easily he could do it again, especially if it was the best thing for everyone. Mitch realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn't the best, though, that leaving now would leave at least a few people unhappy. Keith wouldn't be happy with fifty thousand dollars, especially not with half of it going to Mitch. Then again, maybe this was Mitch's chance to walk away from Keith, too, from the cavalier way Keith had just pushed him into this, telling him to do what he did best, as if all Mitch had to offer anyone was his body and his endless stream of lies. This was enough money for Mitch to go on his own, to just disappear somewhere and have a fresh start, away from Keith, and the streets, and his family, and everything else that had gone before.

But what about Lance? If Mitch left, what would Keith do to Lance, and to the rest of them? Maybe the others weren't in as much danger, not having as much to hide, but Lance was vulnerable. Justin had the sham relationship with Britney to fall back on, and she would back him, the two of them just blowing it off as stupid rumors. Mitch had seen them together, and they looked convincing. The others guys didn't have anything to hide, nothing serious, nothing that could really do any damage to their careers or reputations, but Lance did. What if Keith chose to lash out at him, to try to blackmail him directly in some way? It would be difficult without the kind of evidence Mitch was supposed to generate, which was the sole reason why Mitch was here, but what if Keith tried it anyway? Even worse, what if Keith set Lance up again? He wouldn't be able to use the same ruse, but there were any number of ways to get a guy close enough to Lance, the right guy, or, in this case, the wrong one.

Mitch felt a little twinge of something at that thought. He wondered for a second what he was feeling. If he didn't know better, he might almost think he was jealous of the thought of someone else touching Lance, being with him, but he pushed it down. He didn't feel jealousy at all, he decided, just worry. That was all. He was worried that Lance would be hurt by someone, the way that Mitch himself was supposed to be hurting him. If he wasn't going to do it, he wasn't going to let someone else do it, either. Even if Keith didn't try to follow through with the plan on his own, Lance would still be hurt if Mitch just left. He would be confused, would want to know why, and really, what could Mitch tell him? He was assuming that Wade would want this kept quiet, and wouldn't want Lance to know.

That assumption could be wrong, though. Mitch shook his head, trying to push that thought away, but he couldn't let that one go. He felt all of his feelings of distrust and suspicion, so deeply ingrained in him, welling up to the surface. Lance wouldn't do this, wouldn't put Wade up to this, not Lance, caring, kind Lance, not Lance who had held him tight, not just last night, but in the street the night of the accident, before he even knew him. Lance wouldn't do this, but what about the others? What about JC, the smart one, the one to watch out for, or Joey, the concerned best friend, who might have ideas of his own about the kind of guy he wanted close to Lance? Mitch had already seen the way that the guys banded together to keep their dislike of Wade from Justin, to keep harmony and calm. What if they also decided to keep this from Lance? If they could do one, why not the other?

"Does Lance know you're here?" Mitch asked, watching as Wade frowned.

"No, and I don't think he should," Wade answered finally. Mitch felt a little relieved at knowing that he was right, at least, about Lance. Wade smiled, but it was the cold, passionless smile of a snake, a reptile that crawled out from under a stone somewhere. "You know how Lance is, Mitch. I mean, you've only been here for a couple days, but you must have noticed. Hearing something like this would just, you know, upset him, and I know you don't want that, do you?"

"No, no I don't," Mitch answered, looking down. He looked up again quickly, hardening himself. He needed to know the rest, needed to know if everyone was in on it, or if it was just Wade. "What about the others? Do they know?"

Wade paused for a second before answering. If Mitch thought it was just him, he might not feel like he had to go, might think that the others were on his team. On the other hand, if he could make him feel like his only friend, his only ally, was Lance, maybe that would be enough to help swing the vote. While his mind boggled at the idea that he actually had to convince someone to take fifty thousand dollars, especially someone like Mitch, who would never see that kind of money any other time in his life, the rest of him realized immediately that he needed to use whatever he had to in order to get Mitch out of the picture. Sure, it was a lie, but it's not like he'd get caught, and it was for the best.

"What do you think, Mitch?" Wade asked. "I mean what I said. You don't belong here, and I'm not the only one who knows it. You think these guys are this nice to everybody?"

"But they," Mitch began, but then he remembered everything he'd seen. The talk out at the curb that he'd watched through the bus window, JC, Chris, Wade, and Joey, looking irritated and unhappy. The talking again at the rest stop, all of them standing on the other side of the room watching Mitch, conversation dropping off as Mitch and Lance walked over. And there had been that meeting before the concert, when they had sent Steve to walk him around the arena. What else could they have been talking about? Maybe they had suggested to Lance that he leave, and Lance hadn't gone along with it. "They haven't said anything."

"Of course they haven't," Wade said, holding out his arms in a kind of open shrug. "Mitch, you're a threat to them. You think they're going to run the risk of pissing you off? You think they're going to be anything but nice to you?"

"But they have been," Mitch said quietly, thinking about how careful JC had been to bring him those pants, and how gentle Joey had been bringing him that sandwich on the bus. Was it friendliness, the guys being genuinely kind, or was it the way that Wade said?

"Look, if that's the way you want to think about things, I guess that's ok," Wade said, in a tone that implied that Mitch was seriously deluded. "Mitch, I'm just trying to help you out. Whatever you're hanging around for, there's no guarantee that you'll get it. I'm offering you a sure thing. All you have to do is take it."

Mitch turned away, unwilling to meet Wade's eyes. They were too much like Keith's, too much like looking into his own sometimes. He was in over his head, he finally admitted to himself. There was too much going on here, too many things going on between the guys, and too much going on inside of him. He didn't know who to trust, who to turn to or believe. He didn't even know if he could trust himself. Nothing was the way he thought it was, and nobody was who they seemed to be. He jumped as he felt Wade's hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in," Wade said softly, his hand rubbing Mitch's shoulder now. "Why don't you take a day or two to think about it, huh? It's a lot of money, and I don't want you to make a snap judgment. In the meantime, I've been wanting to talk to you about something else, too."

"What?" Mitch asked, turning, realizing suddenly how close Wade was to him. He could feel Wade's breath on his cheek.

"Just, you know, I might know a way for you to make some extra money, Mitch," Wade said, reaching up quickly to pull the rubber band off of Mitch's short ponytail. "I know about guys like you, Mitch, what you do for money."

Mitch stared at him. This, finally, was something he knew, something familiar. In his confusion, struggling with the turmoil inside of him, he felt his mind latching onto this, reaching out for it. This was something he could understand, something expected, and somehow safe.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" Wade asked, his hand pressing on Mitch's shoulder as his other one brushed through Mitch's hair. Wade stared into his eyes, his lips curling up into a smile. "Yeah, I know you do. How about it, Mitch? Want an extra hundred bucks, right now? You're a pretty hot guy, and I could really get off on getting blown by someone like you."

Wade loved Justin, he really did, but every once in a while, he just got an urge for something else. Like he'd just said, Mitch was kind of hot, and besides, having Mitch swallow him, ramming his cock into Mitch's throat, would be like sticking it to all of them, getting them all back for the way they'd treated Mitch, and the way they hadn't treated him. Wade had both hands on Mitch's shoulders now, smiling at him, and Mitch felt everything churning inside him, twisting and roiling, as Wade exerted gentle, but steady, pressure on him, not quite pushing him to his knees, but doing his best to guide him there.

"Come on, Mitch," Wade said quietly, his voice a soft purr, staring into Mitch's eyes. "What do you say? It's not like you haven't done it before."

Mitch swallowed, his mouth dry, his heart hammering.

"No, thank you," Mitch said, pulling away. He pushed Wade's hands off of his shoulders. "Could you leave, please?"

"Your loss," Wade said, casually groping his crotch, pulling the thin fabric of his pants tight around his throbbing cock. If he hadn't been so upset, Mitch would have laughed out loud at him. Did Wade really think that Mitch would see it and just drop to his knees, overcome with lust? What an ass.

"If you want to think of it that way," Mitch said, moving a few steps away from him. "I don't think you should be here when Lance comes back."

"You're probably right," Wade said, walking toward the door. He smiled, but it was that same emotionless expression as before, his lips sliding back from his teeth like a predator. "I'll check back on you later, when you've had some time to think about both offers, ok? Don't be stupid, Mitch."

"The money, I'll think about," Mitch said. "You, though? The answer's always going to be no."

"Like I said, your loss," Wade said, stepping into the hallway. "See you at dinner."

Mitch sat down heavily on the couch as the door closed, holding his face in his hands. He felt lost, unsure of what to think, who to trust, or who he should believe. He knew that Lance didn't want to hurt him, but what about the others? Wade could be telling the truth, and their smiles and friendship could just be masks. After all, Mitch was wearing one, no matter how many cracks it was now showing. Why wouldn't the rest of them, especially toward someone they saw as a threat to themselves and their careers? Not only did he feel confused, he also felt dirty, used, by the casual way Wade had treated him, had expected him to just drop to his knees and service him. It was the way Mitch had been treated by so many men, the way Keith promised he wouldn't be treated again when this was over.

Mitch shook his head, realizing that he was a fool, a stupid fool. He'd allowed himself to be misled by their smiling faces, and their generosity. Of course they could give him some clothes, and buy him a little food. They could buy this hotel. What they'd done for him was nothing to them. Not only that, but they must know, they must all know what Mitch was, what he had done for money. Were they thinking about it when they looked at him? Did they talk about it? Did they all know, and make jokes about it, behind his back? And how had they known? Could they just tell, had Wade just guessed, or had someone told them? Had Lance? After last night, and how kind he'd been, had he told his friends? He was sure Lance wouldn't do it to be malicious, but the others, hearing it, might have decided that Mitch wasn't quite the type of guy they wanted around.

Before he could do anything else, he heard another knock at the door. He was afraid that it might be Wade, coming back for a second attempt, but when he opened the door, he found Keith.

"Hey, came to check on you," Keith said, smiling as he walked inside.

"Hey," Mitch breathed, hugging him. Keith stiffened, and gently, but firmly, pushed Mitch away from him.

"What's wrong with you?" Keith asked crossly, leading him toward the couch.

"I'm sorry," Mitch said, wiping at his eyes. He should have known Keith wouldn't hug him back, since he never had, but he had just, for a second, needed someone, needed someone familiar, a friend to reach out to. "I'm just, I'm glad you're here."

The two of them sat down on the couch, Mitch feeling a little stupid for crying suddenly, but also completely relieved to have someone here that he trusted. At least, with Keith, he knew where he stood.

"We have a half hour before they get out of their meeting," Keith said, checking his watch. "Tell me what's going on, please."

"Wade was just here," Mitch began, walking over to the gift basket and fishing through it for an apple. He polished it on his sleeve and then bit into it. "It was kind of rough."

"What did he want?" Keith asked, watching Mitch cross back to the chair. Mitch's face seemed a little strained, and he still looked upset.

"He offered me fifty thousand dollars to leave, right now," Mitch answered. He looked down, swallowing, knowing that he had to tell Keith everything, but still feeling dirty and used, even if he hadn't done anything. "He also offered me an extra hundred if I would blow him."

"What about the fifty thousand?" Keith asked. "You didn't take it, did you?"

Mitch frowned.

"No, I didn't take the money," he answered, wondering if Keith had missed what he'd said. "Did you hear what I just told you? He tried to make me blow him, Keith. He had his hands on my shoulders, and he was going to give me a hundred bucks to do it."

"And?" Keith asked, wondering why Mitch sounded so pissed, so hurt and offended. "It's not like you haven't done it before. A hundred is more than you used to make, isn't it?"

"That's not the point," Mitch said. He'd thought Keith would understand, that he would at least feel bad for him. "He treated me like, like dirt, Keith, like I was just another servant to him, like I was someone he could use. He treated me like a whore."

"Well, Mitch," Keith began, shaking his head. "No offense intended, but that is why you're here. You're supposed to have sex with someone, and we both get paid for it. Just not with Wade. Good job saying no. You did say no, right?"

"Yes, I said no," Mitch said quietly, shaking his head. Keith didn't understand why he was upset, didn't understand at all. "If I'm just here to be a whore, what does that make you, Keith? My pimp?"

Keith realized he'd misspoken. He knew that he had to coddle Mitch, that Mitch had a lot of issues beneath his hardened exterior, but he wasn't usually this touchy. Maybe Mitch was starting to get soft. Maybe, as Keith had thought at the beginning, this would be their last job as a team after all. Maybe when this was done he would have to think about severing his partnership with Mitch in a permanent way, one that wouldn't leave Mitch running around as a danger to him. He felt a momentary regret, but, then again, they were talking about quite a lot of money.

"Look, Mitch, I'm sorry," Keith said. "I'm not here as your pimp, and you're not here as a whore. We're here as partners, that's all, and I'm here as your friend. We each bring different skills to the partnership. You know that, Mitch. This must just be more upsetting for you than we thought it would be. How are you holding up?"

"I, uh, it's been a little rough," Mitch said, not wanting to come right out and say that his heart wasn't in this.

"How's your leg? Does it still hurt?" Keith asked, carefully keeping his voice calm.

"It's fine," Mitch said, feeling a little reassured. Maybe Keith had just been surprised, and hadn't thought before he spoke. After all, it had been a pretty surprising story. "I have some painkillers, and it mostly just doesn't really hurt."

"That's good," Keith said, smiling at him. "Now, tell me about what Wade said, and this fifty thousand dollars."

"Well, like I said, he offered me fifty thousand dollars to just leave, and leave everyone alone," Mitch answered. "The other part he didn't say until later, afterward. The main thing was to offer me the money."

"Did he say why?" Keith asked. "I mean, he just showed up at the door to offer you a check?"

"I know," Mitch said, shrugging. "I was surprised, too. He said that I didn't belong here, that I shouldn't be here and shouldn't be around the guys, and that he would take me down to the nearest bank if I just agreed to it."

"And you said no?" Keith asked.

"I didn't give him an answer," Mitch said, shaking his head. "He said that he would come back after I had some time to think about it, but I didn't think you would want that little money."

"You're right, bud," Keith said, patting Mitch on the shoulder. "I knew you were smart enough to do this. That's not enough money for either of us, Mitch, not to split. It does raise a problem, though. He's going to wonder why you're saying no."

"I could tell him that I don't want his money," Mitch said. "I mean, he knows I don't like him. Or I could threaten to tell Lance."

"Lance doesn't know?" Keith asked. "You're sure of that?"

"Yeah," Mitch answered, nodding. "Wade said that we should keep it from Lance, or it would just upset him."

Keith began to pace.

"That's good, then," he said quickly. "But at the same time, it means you have to work faster. Once you turn him down, Wade might start to think you have an ulterior motive in staying. He's not stupid, from what I've seen. He'll realize that a homeless person, someone without anything, would have to be hiding something to say no to fifty thousand. What about the others? Lance doesn't know, but what about the rest of them?"

"I'm not really sure," Mitch said truthfully. He kept thinking about what Wade had said, but he just couldn't make up his mind. The guys had all been so nice, but he couldn't reason out why. He wanted to believe that they really were kind, but he also knew what people were like. If they were protecting themselves, they were going to be as nice as possible.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Keith asked, frowning. "You didn't ask?"

"Of course I asked!" Mitch snapped, finishing the apple. "I'm just not sure if he was telling the truth. He didn't come right out and say they knew, but he made it sound like they did."

"Well?" Keith asked, crossing his arms. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure," Mitch said again. "They're being really nice, super nice, but I've seen them talking together, when Lance and I aren't around. They don't seem to like Wade very much, but he doesn't like me, so maybe they've all found some common ground."

"For now, then, we should assume they know," Keith said. Mitch nodded. It was the smartest thing to do. "Which means they're going to be just as confused as Wade when you turn this down. When people get confused, Mitch, they start asking questions. Has anyone tried to get you to sign one of their agreements yet?"

"No, I don't think anyone's thought of it," Mitch answered, shrugging.

"Well, you need to get to work before anyone does," Keith said. "You're going to have to get to work on Lance, fast, before this starts to unravel. Do you have anything on him yet?"

"No, no, I don't," Mitch answered, looking away.

"Well, have you slept with him yet?" Keith asked. It had been a couple days. That should have been more than enough time.

"He turned me down," Mitch said, hearing Keith stop pacing behind him. "He doesn't want to, Keith."

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough," Keith said, dropping his hands onto Mitch's shoulders. Mitch felt that same twinge he had the night he met Keith, that feeling that something was a little off, a little unsafe.

"Keith, I have to tell you something," Mitch began, swallowing. "I don't think I can do this. I don't think I want to."

"You don't think you want to," Keith repeated, his hands tightening on Mitch's shoulders. "Would you care to explain that a little more?"

"I just, Lance is," Mitch began, hearing a slight whine creeping into his voice. Keith's fingers were digging into his shoulders. He swallowed, and tried to be firmer, more sure. "Lance isn't like you thought he would be. He doesn't want to take advantage of me. He just wants to help me. He's, he's my friend, Keith, and it doesn't feel right to hurt him like this."

"Oh, Lance is your friend," Keith snapped, letting go of Mitch. He stalked around to the front of the couch, dropping down into a squat in front of him. Mitch turned his head away, and Keith grabbed his face, his fingers tightly gripping Mitch's jaw. "Look at me. Look, damn it. I got you off the streets, Mitch. I gave you somewhere to live, clothes, food, everything you needed. If Lance is your friend, what am I?"

"You're my friend, too, Keith, but," Mitch began, torn again. Keith had done so much for him, so much to help him. Was this so much for him to ask in return?

"But what?" Keith demanded. "We need this, Mitch. We need this money, and he's got more than enough to spare. You owe me, damn it! I'm not letting you throw everything we worked so hard on, everything we've done together, away over some, some fairy boyband crybaby that you just met! Do you think he'd still want you if he knew what you were doing? If he knew why you were here? You're not his friend. You're on a job, Mitch. Do you hear me? Do you?"

Keith grabbed the front of Mitch's shirt, jerking him to his feet. Mitch flinched away, but Keith's face was right up next to his, and there was nowhere to go.

"Now, you listen, and listen close," Keith hissed. "I'm the only friend you have here, Mitch. I'm the one who's been there for you, and I'm the one who's helped you the most. All I'm asking in return, just like always, is for you to help me, to do what we have to. We're partners, Mitch, and we take care of each other, right?"

Mitch didn't answer. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he realized that he was afraid, actually afraid, of what Keith might do. For the first time, he thought Keith might hit him, or throw him against the wall, or worse. And, really, what Keith was saying was right. Mitch did owe him, and if this was what it took to settle things between them, he'd just have to do it, no matter who it hurt. He had to get himself out of this, all of this, and doing what Keith wanted was the only way.

"Right?" Keith barked again.

"Right," Mitch answered, his voice a low whisper. Keith shook him, and he answered louder. "Right. This is the only way."

"Good," Keith said, letting him go. Mitch sank back into the couch, feeling his eyes water. He didn't want to cry, not in front of Keith, but he couldn't help it. He tried to hold it in as Keith walked toward the door. "Get to work, Mitch."

"Yeah, ok," Mitch answered, listening to the door open and close.

When Keith was gone Mitch felt everything inside him break, let go all at once. Hot, stinging tears burst down his cheeks, and he couldn't catch his breath. Lying on his side, he slumped against the couch cushions, sobbing. He owed Keith, but he realized now that Keith had never been his friend. Keith, like everyone else, saw him as a tool, as something to be used for his own purposes. He had helped Mitch, but he expected Mitch to keep letting others use his body in return, and Mitch had gone along with it, all this time. Now, when he had met Lance, when he had finally met someone who didn't want anything from him, who just wanted to be his friend, he would have to hurt him, too. He didn't want to, but he had to even things up with Keith, had to do what was right, even if it would just push Lance away.

"Mitch, are you ready for dinner?" Lance asked brightly, pushing the door open. His tone faltered when he saw Mitch on the couch, sobbing, and he rushed over, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Mitch? Mitch, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Lance!" Mitch gasped, sitting up. He hadn't heard him come in, and certainly didn't want him to find him like this. "Lance, I."

"Mitch, what's wrong?" Lance asked again. He brushed Mitch's hair back from his face, and reached for the tissues, his forehead furrowed with concern. "Mitch, are you crying? Is it your leg?"

"No, it's, my leg is fine," Mitch fumbled. He was too upset to think of anything. Lance dabbed gently at his face, blotting under his eyes with the tissue, and that small kindness brought fresh tears. "I, I don't know what's wrong, Lance. I just, I'm so confused."

"Come on," Lance said, pulling him to his feet. He walked him carefully into the bedroom, Mitch's arm draped over his shoulder as Lance took the place of his crutches. "I'm sorry, Mitch. This is all my fault."

"What?" Mitch asked uncertainly as he allowed Lance to guide him onto the bed. He lay his head down on the pillow, holding Lance's hand as Lance pushed his hair back gently with the other one.

"I didn't think about how this would be for you," Lance said, soothing him. "All these new people, and places, and you not getting any sleep last night, and then I left you in here alone. This must be so overwhelming for you. I'm sorry, Mitch, I'm sorry I didn't think about you more."

"Please don't apologize," Mitch whispered, almost begging. "Please don't be sorry."

"No, I should be," Lance said, kneeling by the bed. "Why don't I skip dinner, and stay here? We can order in, just the two of us?"

"No, that's ok," Mitch said, feeling very drained now that his tears were leveling off. "Please, go with your friends out to eat. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Lance asked, still holding his hand. Mitch's hand was shaking, and Lance didn't want to leave him like this.

"Yeah," Mitch answered, praying that Lance would go. He couldn't see him right now, not like this, not until he had himself under control again.

"OK," Lance said finally. He could tell that Mitch was holding something back, but didn't want to push him. "You get some rest, ok? If you're hungry, call and order something from room service, and I'll see you when I get back, ok?"

"OK," Mitch whispered, closing his eyes. He couldn't stare into Lance's green eyes any longer, couldn't take seeing the concern there for Mitch, for a complete fake who was only going to destroy him.

Lance walked quietly to the door, and turned back at the last second, looking at Mitch stretched out on the bed, his face buried in a pillow, looking so weak and fragile. He wondered again what was wrong, what could have happened to set him off, but he'd just have to wait for Mitch to tell him. More than anything, it seemed to him that Mitch was afraid, but afraid of what? Trusting him? Getting hurt? Or was it something else?

"I'll take care of you, Mitch," Lance said quietly. Mitch nodded, unable to find a voice to speak. "I promise. And I'll be back soon."

As Lance left the suite, Mitch thought about what he'd just said. Lance would take care of him, he knew, would look out for him and protect him. And Mitch would pay him back by betraying him, because he had to. He had no other choice.

To be continued.