![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
randomlingWritten for this request on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_requests.
Summary: Justin is unintentionally funny.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF.
Also: Unbeta'd.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bououou.
GSOH
Lance is so tired that he's giggling uncontrollably, burying his face in the comforter and clinging to it in a hopeless attempt to get a grip. Justin is standing in front of the bed with his shirt half-off, looking partway amused and partway petulant.
"Stop it," Justin says. "This isn't funny."
Lance rolls onto his side and holds his stomach because, fuck, it is. He does try to shake his head in agreement, too, but it doesn't go well, and he just ends up curling up in even more helpless laughter.
Justin lets his shirt fall down again, covering his chest, and sighs. "Okay, I'm gonna start again. Lance, get a hold of yourself."
Lance takes a deep breath and after a few attempts he does actually manage to stop laughing, though he still feels a little precarious. Justin reaches over to start the CD again, and sexy music fills the room.
The stupid thing about it is that Justin is a great dancer, really sexy, and at any other time Lance finds his sure, lithe movements a major turn-on. When they're rehearsing, for example, or on stage, which can be really embarrassing. He doesn't know why Justin dancing for just him, looking him in the eye as he swings his hips, makes him want to collapse laughing. Maybe he really is that tired.
But as Justin lifts the hem of his shirt, Lance lets out a snort of laughter. Justin gives a quick bray of laughter himself, lets go of the shirt again, covers his face. "This isn't working, is it?" he says, and his voice is a little shaky - but at least he sounds as if he's still laughing.
Lance shakes his head, slowly dissolving back into giggles.
"God, this was supposed to be sexy," Justin says. The laughter in his voice is gone, and he sounds really disappointed that the striptease didn't work. Lance sits up on the bed, not feeling amused any more.
"It is," he says. "You are. It's just..." Lance struggles for the words to explain. "It's a little too fake, maybe. I - you're sexy anyway, you don't have to put on a show for me."
Justin looks at him seriously.
"C'mon. Do I look like a thirteen-year-old girl?" Lance adds.
Justin smiles faintly. "Not any more," he teases, and Lance reaches behind him to throw a pillow at Justin. Justin catches it, tosses it back, and when Lance puts it down, he hovers nervously in the middle of the room. "You really think I'm sexy?"
"Yes," Lance says. In fact, looking at Lance all honest and sweet and vulnerable, he's far sexier now than he was when he was dancing a minute ago. "Christ, yes. Come here and I'll show you."
Justin grins and takes two long steps to get to the bed. The way he tears off his shirt and throws it across the room as he walks is hotter than any striptease Lance has ever seen.
fic_requests.Summary: Justin is unintentionally funny.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF.
Also: Unbeta'd.
For
bououou.GSOH
Lance is so tired that he's giggling uncontrollably, burying his face in the comforter and clinging to it in a hopeless attempt to get a grip. Justin is standing in front of the bed with his shirt half-off, looking partway amused and partway petulant.
"Stop it," Justin says. "This isn't funny."
Lance rolls onto his side and holds his stomach because, fuck, it is. He does try to shake his head in agreement, too, but it doesn't go well, and he just ends up curling up in even more helpless laughter.
Justin lets his shirt fall down again, covering his chest, and sighs. "Okay, I'm gonna start again. Lance, get a hold of yourself."
Lance takes a deep breath and after a few attempts he does actually manage to stop laughing, though he still feels a little precarious. Justin reaches over to start the CD again, and sexy music fills the room.
The stupid thing about it is that Justin is a great dancer, really sexy, and at any other time Lance finds his sure, lithe movements a major turn-on. When they're rehearsing, for example, or on stage, which can be really embarrassing. He doesn't know why Justin dancing for just him, looking him in the eye as he swings his hips, makes him want to collapse laughing. Maybe he really is that tired.
But as Justin lifts the hem of his shirt, Lance lets out a snort of laughter. Justin gives a quick bray of laughter himself, lets go of the shirt again, covers his face. "This isn't working, is it?" he says, and his voice is a little shaky - but at least he sounds as if he's still laughing.
Lance shakes his head, slowly dissolving back into giggles.
"God, this was supposed to be sexy," Justin says. The laughter in his voice is gone, and he sounds really disappointed that the striptease didn't work. Lance sits up on the bed, not feeling amused any more.
"It is," he says. "You are. It's just..." Lance struggles for the words to explain. "It's a little too fake, maybe. I - you're sexy anyway, you don't have to put on a show for me."
Justin looks at him seriously.
"C'mon. Do I look like a thirteen-year-old girl?" Lance adds.
Justin smiles faintly. "Not any more," he teases, and Lance reaches behind him to throw a pillow at Justin. Justin catches it, tosses it back, and when Lance puts it down, he hovers nervously in the middle of the room. "You really think I'm sexy?"
"Yes," Lance says. In fact, looking at Lance all honest and sweet and vulnerable, he's far sexier now than he was when he was dancing a minute ago. "Christ, yes. Come here and I'll show you."
Justin grins and takes two long steps to get to the bed. The way he tears off his shirt and throws it across the room as he walks is hotter than any striptease Lance has ever seen.
