Home Is Where
Justin looked around, rubbing his hands together slightly as he surveyed the stacks and piles and mounds of wonderful, wonderful things surrounding him.
"I won't be able to do it in under five hours my *ass*," he muttered under his breath, glancing around to make sure that his bodyguard was still discretely behind him. He wasn't quite used to the current one yet, though he was quite nice and certainly seemed competent enough. But still, he wasn't his bodyguard and he felt no need to pretend he was as comfortable to be standing in the middle of the store in the middle of the day with him watching his back as he would be if it were Lonnie or Tiny.
He glanced at his watch, then set off with a determined stride for the menswear section. Ten minutes, tops, he figured. And then he could hed up to the sporting goods section and take a look at that miniature Mercedes he'd heard about. After all, he thought as he headed towards the back of the store, he'd really better buy it for himself before someone else did.
Justin bit at his lip, glancing back down at his watch. Three hours and forty-two minutes gone and he hadn't seen anything even remotely close to being what he was looking for.
"No, no," he shook his head, pretending not to notice the ever so carefully supressed flicker of irritation that crossed the assistant's face. "I admit that those are all wonderful shirts, but they aren't, I mean, it has to be something special."
"Sir, these are the finest Egyptian cotton." There was the vaguest hint of frustration in the cultured voice now and Justin felt the flush begin to creep up the back of his neck. Usually he had no problem with demanding the best service and perfect care to every detail. But he knew that in this instance the problem was him.
"I know. And they really are nice. In fact," Justin grabbed two shirts from the neat stack on the counter. "I'll take these." He hoped those were close to someone's size, if not, well, he'd have expensive dust rags. "But that's not what I'm looking for. Look," Justin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is a birthday present for someone very important to me. And it has to be right."
"Ah," came the quiet reply. "I see. And the gentleman for whom you are purchasing this gift has specific tastes, I'm sure."
Justin barely managed to suppress a snort. "You can say that again. And, well, these aren't," he waved a hand, sighing as he struggled to explain the problem.
The assistant efficiently moved the piles of shirts. "They do not quite reflect an appreciation for the gentleman's tastes. Understandable. If you would allow me a moment, I believe I can find a few more suitable items."
"Please." Justin smiled. "I think it's becoming obvious I can use all the help I can get."
"I shall be back shortly then. And don't worry, sir. We've never failed to find someone the perfect gift yet." The assistant strode off and Justin leaned dejectedly against the wall. He'd been so certain he could just pop in and pop out and he'd have the perfect thing and he'd finally prove that he did too know Lance.
"Stupid Lance," Justin muttered under his breath, idly pawing through a stack of ties. "Couldn't just tell me what he wants, oh nooooooo, it has to be this big, huge thing. Stupid Lance." Justin held up a tie in a particularly vivid shade of purple then tossed it onto the shirts. "At least I found something for JC."
A discrete cough signalled the return of the assistant and Justin turned around, brightening when he saw the pair of driving gloves in the man's hand. "Now those are great." The gloves were handed over and Justin grinned as he felt the buttery soft leather.
"Corinthian leather, hand stitched, the lining is silk. Elegant and refined." Justin nodded as the man spoke, looking the gloves over. They were perfect. Elegant, as had been noted. But masculine and practical as well.
"Yeah, these are perfect, thank you so much, I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. I know that he'll," Justin glanced down, breaking off when he noticed the small price tag. "Oh shit."
"I beg your pardon, sir? Is there a problem?" The man was frowning at him and Justin flushed.
"No, no, I mean. I'll just, I have to check something." Justin handed the gloves back over, then fumbled at his pocket, finally pulling out his phone. He hit the speed dial, ducking his head and turning away slightly.
"No."
"But," Justin stopped, holding the phone out and blinking at the display. The call must have dropped he thought, punching the full number in this time.
"Justin. I said no."
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!" Justin yelped, frowning at the disapproving glances being cast his way.
"You found the perfect thing and it's only a little bit over the limit and it's perfect, Lance, really it's the absolutely perfect thing and c'mon," Lance whined into the phone.
Justin scowled. "I so would not say it like that."
"You so would too. I know you, Timberlake. I told you before you left, one hundred dollars and not a penny more. And if I remember correctly, and I do because I taped it, you said that wouldn't be a problem. In fact, I seem to remember you saying you'd be back in an hour. And it's been what, four or so now?" Lance sounded smug and Justin wished he was there in person so he could scowl. Somehow he felt the effect of his scowl was lost over the phone.
"This is the stupidest idea, Bass. C'mon, let me buy you that piece you saw in that gallery in Chelsea. That was gorgeous and it'll be perfect for your office." Justin gnawed at a thumbnail. "This is ridiculous."
"No," Lance sighed heavily, making Justin wince. "It's not stupid. Anyone can spend money on me. I want you to get me a present that means something, not one that's expensive."
Justin looked around, checking to see that no one was paying him any particular attention. "Right, I know, I know. But it's a gorgeous piece. I know you like it and it will mean something because, you know, it'll be something I got you from our first trip together to London."
"Nice try, Justin. You'd better get back to it, our dinner reservations are in six hours. Bye, baby." Justin held up the phone, sticking his tongue out at it, before dejectedly turning back around.
"I'm sorry, but those aren't going to work either. You've really been helpful, but I think maybe I should look at something besides clothes." Justin pulled out his wallet, handing over a card as the shirts and tie were boxed up.
"I understand, sir. Often it can take some time to find just the thing." A sympathetic smile graced the assistant's face. "Does the gentleman travel frequently? If so we have a lovely selection of travel cases upstairs."
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he does." Justin scrawled his signature then looked up. "That might work."
"Well," the card and bag with his purchases were handed over, "if Harrod's doesn't have it, then it's not worth having."
Justin grinned. "That's why I came here. Which way should I go?" He set off for the escaltors, bouncing slightly. Travel stuff. He should have thought of that himself.
"I swear to God, I'm going to start blocking your number, Justin." Lance sounded genuinely angry and Justin felt a twinge of remorse.
"I'm not trying to be annoying," he started.
"Yet, you're succeeding admirably." Lance sighed. "What now? It's a fruit of the month thing and it's a hundred dollars a month and you think that should count? You can't remember what size shoe I wear? No, wait, do I like fine point or medium point for my pens? Because, frankly, Justin, I think you've asked me everything else." Justin didn't even have to close his eyes to see the scowl on Lance's face.
"Last thing, I swear. Please, can we make it a hundred pounds not a hundred dollars? I can't do that conversion thing in my head like you do. Please?" Justin knew he was begging but he really was past caring. He'd spent another three hours wandering from department to department, still completely unable to find the right thing. He actually was beginning to be a little worried at his inability to find something inexpensive. He still remembered when having a hundred dollars of his very own to spend would have been a huge deal. Now, he couldn't even find a pair of sunglasses he wanted to buy Lance for that.
"For fuck's sake. Fine. A hundred pounds. But that's it. No more calls. In fact, I'm turning my phone off. I'll see you back here in an hour. Goodbye, Justin." Silence came from the other end as Justin sighed.
"Giles?" He turned to the stoic man watching his back. "Would you like some coffee? I know I need some." Justin wandered over to the escalator, hanging his head as they headed down to the Food Halls.
"That's very kind, sir." Giles stepped close to Justin when they reached the queue for coffee, eyes narrowly surveying the growing crowd.
"Not a prob." The line moved quickly for which Justin was grateful. He was tired and he knew Giles had to be even more so. He'd done a masterful job of ensuring that Justin hadn't been recognized and coffee, Justin thought, taking the two steaming mugs, was the least he could do. "Here you go."
"Thank you." Giles inhaled deeply. "There's nothing quite like that smell. It's one of the things I miss most when I'm out of the country."
"Oh?" Justin sipped at his own coffee "It's really good."
"Yes. My grandfather used to bring me here for sweets when I was spending holiday with him and he always would give me a sip of his coffee." Giles smiled faintly. "My mother stills sends me pounds when I'm abroad for any length of time. And it always makes me think of home."
Justin froze, eyes going wide. "Giles, you are a damn genius." He tossed back the rest of his coffee. "C'mon, I know exactly what to get, God, I'm an idiot." Justin nearly ran out of the store. "C'mon, c'mon." He grinned. God, Lance was going to love this.
Lance looked pointedly at the clock when Justin slipped into their suite. "That was a pretty long hour you were gone, Justin."
"I know, babe." Justin dropped his bags just inside the door, crossing the room and pecking Lance on the cheek. "What can I say? I overestimated my abilities."
Lance pointed at him. "I would reply but I know you're only giving me such a great opening because it's my birthday. I don't want pity, Justin."
Justin laughed. "Hey, if you don't want the freebies." He darted back, avoiding Lance's swat. "You're looking mighty fine, Mr. Bass." He eyed Lance appreciatively. "So, we're dressing for dinner."
"You knew that. And you'd better hit the shower, we really do have to get heading out in about an hour." Lance took Justin's hand, pulling him towards the bathroom. "I've got your suit all laid out and they're shining your shoes now."
"Wait, wait." Justin dug his heels in and Lance stopped, tilting his head.
"What now, Justin? You want to try to negotiate going to dinner in jeans? Because that's not happening." Lance crossed his arms over his chest. "It's my fucking birthday and I want to go to a nice meal in a nice restaurant with my nice, dressed up boyfriend."
"No, no, no. Wait, can I?" Justin held up his hands. "That's a joke! I swear." He tugged Lance over to a couch, pushing him down. "I want to give you your birthday present."
"You mean you actually found something?" Lance looked skeptically at the bags.
Justin turned, rummaging through the bags. "Yes. And most of those are for me or," Justin glared over his shoulder when Lance snorted. "Oh, shut up."
"I knew you would shop for you." Lance watched Justin warily as he walked back over, hands behind his back. "It's not going to bite, is it?"
"No. But I will later if you want." Justin poked Lance with a toe. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands. Do it, Bass."
"Better not be handcuffs," Lance muttered as he complied.
Justin snapped his fingers. "I knew we forgot to pack something." He sat down next to Lance, pressing the present into his hands. "Ok, open your eyes."
Lance looked down, brow creasing. "Um. Justin. It's a Hershey bar. A big Hershey bar, but still."
"It was the biggest one I could find." Justin bit his lip. "There's kind of a story behind it."
Lance spun the bar between his palms. "A story?"
"Um, yeah." Justin scrubbed at the back of his neck. "It was like two weeks after your mom first went home and we were still in Germany and you were so homesick and trying so hard not to be when you got your first package from her." Justin stared at Lance's hands, speaking quickly. "And you opened the box and you pulled out a bag of those mini Hershey bars and your face lit up and you were so happy and Chris asked you why because, hello, not like we couldn't get them there and you said 'Yeah but these are from my mom and now they'll always make me feel like home.' So you know," Justin waved a hand. "I want you to think I'm your home. And. Well, you know me, have to be the biggest and best. So. There." He chewed at his lip, eyes still locked on Lance's hands.
Lance stared at the Hershey bar, then over at Justin, then back at the Hershey bar. Justin glanced up, trying to work out what Lance was thinking. The expression on his face was unreadable and Justin finally snapped.
"It was stupid and I'm sorry and I'll get you something better, I swear, but I couldn't think of anything, and it's not that I don't love you and not that I don't know you but I'm turning into a spoiled brat and that's driving me nuts and you were right and" The rest of Justin's words were muffled as Lance pinned Justin to the couch, kissing him deeply.
"Damn it, Justin. This is perfect. Perfect. Thank you." Lance nuzzled at Justin neck. "Thank you."
"Oh, fuck, thank God you like it." Justin wrapped his arms around Lance's waist, squeezing hard.
"I love it, you idiot." Lance pushed up, kissing Justin's forehead. "Shit, now I don't want to go out for dinner."
"No?" Justin reached down, fumbling along the side of the couch. His fingers curled around a bottle and he held it up, grinning. "I did get some syrup too. I figured you might want some in your," Justin leaned up, licking at Lance's neck, "milk."
"Uh huh." Lance tugged his tie off, chucking it across the room. "In my milk. Sure, if there's any left from when I get done licking it off you."
Justin laughed, shoving the bottle in behind a cushion. "We can always get more, I didn't spend even close to all my budget." He set to work unbuttoning Lance's shirt.
"I do love a thrifty man." Lance cupped Justin's face between his palms. "Seriously. I love you. This is perfect."
"Love you back," Justin smiled up at Lance. "You sure you don't want to go out to dinner?"
"Eh," Lance yanked Justin t-shirt off. "The British can't cook anyway."
Justin laughed loudly as Lance shoved him back down onto the couch.