"Fuck, what are we doing?"
Chris shook his head, licking over skin that tasted like soap, probably Irish Spring or something, but Chris wasn't really concerned with what soap brand he was dealing with. Whatever it was, the skin tasted incredible and he couldn't stop his tongue from being greedy. "Don't question. Let's just regret in the morning."
"Okay," Lance agreed as Chris's hands slid down the back of his jeans. "All right."
~~~
The morning rolled around, and Chris sat up, still mostly drunk and smacking himself in the forehead. The regret, it seemed, was already brewing, but then he thought about it, and Lance, and how the kid just tasted too much like soap for his own good because Chris's tongue felt weird and huge. No, the regret was definitely still there.
"We fucked," Chris announced in Lance's ear, flopping heavily onto the smooth back and shocking Lance awake.
"I know," Lance muttered, not sounding all too pleased about it, or maybe just really tired, which Chris figured could also be the case as they finally fucked themselves out by four, and it was only eight. "Go to sleep. Or leave. But shut up."
"Grumpy bastard," Chris murmured but lay back down again, snuffling into Lance's neck.
~~~
"All right," Lance said later, while he looked around for his boxers and Chris sat on the bed, sipping water and popping Advil. "This is kinda weird right now. And what the hell did we do with them?" Lance looked around bleakly. "Can I borrow a pair of yours? This is pissing me off."
"Dude, sharing underwear. That's kinda intimate," Chris said, rubbing his temples.
"Well, dude," Lance snapped back, already in Chris's drawers and looking for a pair that wasn't ragged and threadbare, "I sincerely hope in your world having your dick in my ass is considered intimate, too."
"Point taken," Chris replied, "feel free to wear my underwear."
~~~
Chris was pretty happy to think maybe it was one of those drunken buddy-fucks he'd heard so much about because, after all, it was Lance, and well, it was Lance. Lance, his bitch-fight partner, who was anal about schedules and getting his own way, by far one of the most stubborn motherfuckers Chris had ever come across, but it was Lance. Lance was around, a lot, they practically lived together, and he was not going to go away any time soon.
"Also, a fuck of a good lay," Chris reminded himself, sipping his fourth bottle of water. And, as if it all wasn't enough, Lance was wearing Chris's underwear, and fuck, if that wasn't akin to hot and sexy in Chris's mind.
"Dude," Chris muttered, liking how Lance jumped and nearly dropped his water when Chris pressed a hand against his back, fingers sliding under the silk shirt. "If you follow me to bathroom, I'll blow you. Like, right now."
Lance looked at his watch. "We only have ten minutes."
Chris smirked. "I only need ten minutes."
~~~
It was rather surreal, Chris thought while the meeting progressed and Johnny started talking about album sales and new sounds, to be sitting at a table, being a music man and licking one of your band member's jism off your teeth.
~~~
Oddly, Chris hadn't ever tried to sleep with any of the other guys. They were all pretty hot, even Joey, but Chris just hadn't ever bothered to put in the effort with any of them. Well, JC once, while they were both mostly passed out on the floor from drinking too much, but JC turned out to be really, really straight, which was the surprise of Chris's life.
"No way," Chris breathed, and JC shrugged.
"Sorry."
And well, Chris realised, lying in bed after the mother of all blowjobs ever, which left Chris's voice hoarse and Lance's throat raw, with Lance naked and sleeping beside him and looking like this goddamn fucking angel, Lance turned out to be really, really gay.
It all worked out in the end.
~~~
They fucked for about a week like crazy monkeys on crack before Lance said, "cut it out, Chris, let it go," and went home with a skinny little blond twink instead. And that, as they say, was that, and Chris was celibate again.
"Motherfucker," Chris swore, "that fucking cocktease. That fucker."
Joey raised an eyebrow and tapped Chris on the shoulder. Chris startled and shut up, taking Joey's drink and slapping a twenty to his chest, barking, "I'll buy you one, Fatone, just shut up and get me another."
Joey never did turn down free booze.
~~~
"Um, no," Joey said later after Chris propositioned him, "sorry."
"Straight?" Chris sighed, and Joey nodded. "Fuck. Fuck you, Joe. Really. I'm horny."
"There's always Lance," Joey said helpfully. "But um, I guess not. he had that blond guy, right? And probably wouldn't, you know, you, because, well, he's all about avoiding having sex with people he'd actually have a chance with, you know. And, um, oops." Joey clasped his hand over his mouth. "Um, and, um, Lance is straight; I didn't say anything. fuck. So, no."
"No, indeed," Chris muttered, "and you're sure you're straight?"
"Sorry, man," Joey said, "these things happen."
Chris sighed. "Don't they."
~~~
"All right," Chris said a few days later, after scaring Lance in his kitchen and getting a knife pressed to his neck that had a hunk of cheese stuck to it. Chris merely plunked the cheddar square off and tossed it into his mouth, chewing then swallowing. "Let's put the knife away, and we'll have a talk."
"I'm not sleeping with you again," Lance said, "forget it."
"All right," Chris said and shrugged, "but we should still talk. Or you'll continue to threaten me with knives and cheddar cheese, and that's not good for anyone involved. So." Chris pushed the knife down and sat on Lance's counter. "Sorry about the whole sex thing."
Lance shrugged. "Cheese and crackers?"
"Sure," Chris said, "but really, I'm sorry."
"Wasn't just you," Lance mumbled, taking the crackers out of the cupboard, "how about we never talk about it again? I wouldn't mind that."
"I guess," Chris said, "do you have any mozzarella? You eat stinky old cheddar, dude, that's lame."
"You're lame," Lance said and sliced up some white cheese for Chris.
Chris pecked Lance's cheek with a quick kiss.
~~~
Not talking about it turned out to really mean just not talking about it with Lance because the next time Chris was drunk he ended up telling Justin everything.
"Yo, man, that's fucked up," Justin muttered, hauling Chris to his feet after Chris puked in the bushes and decided sleeping in a park in the middle of Orlando was a smart idea. "And it wasn't just one time?"
"Couple blowjobs after," Chris muttered, stumbling. His shoes were untied so he bent down to fix them and fell over. "But none of the ass stuff. Which sucks, because I bottom, too, and I didn't get to. It would have been cool."
"Jesus, man, we need to get you a boyfriend or something. You're totally gay," Justin said, sitting on Chris's legs to tie his sneakers. "I'd do it myself, man, but you know, straight and stuff. If you were a chick, man. we'd be hitched, yo!"
Chris puked all over Justin's jacket.
~~~
Justin showed up the next morning with a rainbow flag, and Chris just covered his eyes with his arm while waving the middle finger of his other hand proudly as Justin marched around, determined to be the best straight friend he could be.
"Dude, you came out to me last night," Justin said when Chris wasn't showing the proper level of enthusiasm. "And you outed Lance. This is big news. I feel like we should be listening to show tunes and talking about cute Olympic swimmers."
"Fuck you straight people and your stereotypes," Chris muttered, "and I'm fucking hungover, J. Just go home and pretend I didn't open my fat mouth. Fuck. I should stop drinking. I need to find religion or something."
"No, we need to find you a boyfriend! Get dressed, fucker!" Justin said, pulling on Chris's arms, and Chris batted him away. "Well, fine, you spoilsport, but we're doing gay stuff all day, then. You know, get you in touch with your roots and stuff. You've wasted thirty years!"
Chris smacked Justin upside the head. "I'm only twenty-nine, jackass!"
~~~
Chris managed to play along with Justin's misguided attempts at friendship for twelve hours before Justin remembered that, oh shit, he forgot to call Britney, and oh shit, he was the worst boyfriend in the world and that Lance certainly wouldn't ever do anything like that, ever.
"Fuck you," Chris muttered as Justin ran out the door. "It's nothing like that, is it, babies?" Chris asked as Busta stared at him stupidly, like he often did, and Korea yipped then rolled over and went back to sleep. "We just fucked. And he was good. Really, really good for me."
Busta crooked his head and peed on the floor.
Chris closed his eyes. Life was painful.
~~~
The next time Chris got drunk in Lance's presence, he seemed to forget about his promise never to make mention of their week as lovers and kept hitting on Lance. It was partially that no one else was even talking to Chris, but mostly that Lance was wasted and stuck in a straight bar with girls trying to pick him up, and that always made Lance desperate.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Lance looked up, and his eyes were strange and terrifying. Chris leaned closer, to see if they got better, but Lance went cross-eyed and mumbled, "can you suck my dick sometime in the next five minutes?"
"Thought we weren't doing that anymore," Chris muttered.
"Guess I'm a big, fat liar then, ain't I?" Lance smelled like gin, and more of that delicious soap. Chris's tongue was already aching, but he nodded and let Lance drag him to the bathroom, which was dirty and gross and a breeding ground for venereal disease.
And that was just fine by Chris.
~~~
"This is so backwards," Chris whispered in the cab, his hand on Lance's crotch and his mouth around Lance's left ear lobe. "Didn't we just break up or something? Dude, this isn't following a chronological order at all."
"We were never together," Lance muttered, "and. Uh. Forget what we're talking about because mmm," Lance hummed, all rumbling and sexy in his chest, and Chris dropped his head to listen, his wrist rolling between Lance's legs. "Yeah, fuck. That's. yeah."
Lance came in the cab, his second time, and grinned because, as it turned out, Lance was still very much young in body and old man Chris, who remembered when Lance was sixteen and said he didn't masturbate because it was icky and wrong, was very grateful.
~~~
They cat-fought in Lance's bedroom, arguing over the schematics of fucking before Chris thumped Lance on the chest and said, "listen, you Southern child, I'm outranking you here, and, besides, you greedy Lance, you bottomed last time."
"I thought this was some straight thing," Lance snapped, trying to be menacing, but Chris really just wanted to get down on his knees and suck Lance off again. It was kind of hot, watching him pretend to be threatening. "You're not allowed to be the bottom if this is some straight thing!"
Chris was scandalised. "You're straight?! You, who practically shits rainbows, is straight?!"
"What? No! Of course not!" Lance shouted back, flailing his arms in the air, and Chris thought, on some subconscious level, this wasn't a fight they should be having so loudly, but whatever, especially when Lance sneered, "you're straight!"
"Ha! Am I? Since when? Huh? You wanna take this outside?" Chris shot back, "put up your dukes, kid. We're settling this right now." Chris punched the lamp, which looked a lot like Lance at the time, and yelped, sucking on his bleeding knuckle. "That hurt, fucker."
"Good god," Lance muttered, "here," and pressed kleenex to Chris's hand, taking them both down to the bed. Chris blinked owlishly, and Lance smiled a little bit. "Do I really look like a lighting fixture?"
"Kinda," Chris said, grinning, "if you squint."
"Yeah," Lance replied, "and, um. so this isn't a straight thing?"
Chris crooked an eyebrow. "Uh, no. If it was, I'd probably be sleeping with, like, one of the others, but they're all straight, and I guess I'm not hot enough to get them in the sack." Chris stared at Lance's fingers. "It's pretty much a gay thing."
"Pretty gay," Lance agreed, "so you can be bottom, I guess."
"Yeah?" Lance nodded; Chris beamed. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
And so, their first cat-fight ended.
~~~
It turned out, of course, that Lance had commitment issues worse than Chris had commitment issues. Lance wanted to stay on buddy-fucking terms because he didn't want things to change, and Chris felt that if he was going to put out, he might as well get a boyfriend out of it.
"We're really not compatible," Lance said.
"You just don't want to be my boyfriend," Chris said, pouting on the couch.
"I really think we'd kill each other, is all," Lance replied, sighing, and Chris wanted to punch him. or fuck him. or have Lance fuck him, whatever. "And, like. Honestly, Chris. We're just buddy-fucking, you know? You're making more of this than it is."
"You're a pussy," Chris snapped, "I'm going home."
"Fine," Lance said, neutral.
"Fine!"
Chris stomped out of the house like a fucking teenage girl.
~~~
"We got back together," Chris announced as he walked into Justin's kitchen, holding a bag of steaming hot bagels and low-fat cream cheese, which Chris thought tasted like rotten ass but Justin was insane about his figure. "Then broke up again after eight hours. He didn't want me."
"Lance?" Justin asked, his jaw rolling with the effort to munch Apple Jacks. "Dude, as one buddy to the other, it's Lance. He isn't really your style, anyway, you know? He's so. boring. Sometimes. And, hmm. Kinda weird."
"I'm kinda weird, fool," Chris replied, slicing up a couple bagels then his middle finger, which he ran under water and sucked between his lips. "And, like, fuck, kid. You don't understand. He's the best fucking lay I've ever had, and we've really been dating for five years, we just didn't know."
Justin grinned. "By that reasoning, we've all been dating for five years."
"We have," Chris said and kissed Justin full on the lips, getting a mouthful of green bits of pasty wheat. "Now shut the fuck up and let me keep my delusions, infant. Me and Lance have been dating for five years, we just didn't know."
"Whatever," Justin wiped at his mouth, looking disgusted, "psycho."
~~~
Chris thought he was going to be better than Lance by staying strong in his morals, but he wasn't. He walked over to Lance's place, even though it wasn't all that close, and waited forty-five minutes before ringing the bell.
"Buddy-fucking's fine," Chris mumbled, and Lance smiled.
When Chris was sprawled on his back in Lance's hallway, with his head braced against a pair of tennis shoes and Lance's tongue prying its way into Chris's body while Lance hummed like a fucking harmonica and stroked Chris's cock, Chris realised he really wasn't in any position to complain.
~~~
Joey took one look at Chris then one look at Lance and got it right away. He didn't say anything, just kind of looked like he pitied Chris for getting involved with a serial bachelor. Everyone knew Lance didn't do relationships, and they mostly figured it was because he was gay and didn't know it, but obviously, he knew, and obviously, it didn't change when everyone knew.
Everyone but JC, at any rate. Chris tried to figure out how anybody could be so fucking obtuse when it came to seeing the obvious, but Joey and Justin were betting on how long it would take JC to clue in, and eventually, Chris joined the pool. Lance did, too, and spent the rest of the night with his hand in Chris's hair while they dozed on the couch, watching Joey's movies.
It was a mindfuck, Chris was sure of it, but he would take what he could get.
~~~
They fought over everything, which never really phased Chris because it wasn't really fighting. It was mostly arguing for arguing's sake, and Chris admitted it when Lance called him on it after a long, unending battle about the rising price of gasoline and the spread of capitalism, in which Chris blamed the world's problems on Lance's SUV and his credit cards while Lance actually took the debate seriously. It mostly ended with Lance calling him a spiteful little child.
"I wouldn't be spiteful if you made an honest man out of me!" Chris shouted back, stomping around and tossing Lance's favourite cactus out the open window. Lance's wonky eyes went wide, and Chris immediately jumped through the window to save it.
Lance spent the next twenty minutes prying branches and cactus needles out of Chris's bruised and bloody skin.
~~~
Sometimes, though, Lance actually turned out to be fun.
JC walked in on Lance giggling while helping Chris prove that yes, a condom could fit over his head, and it mostly did, though it contorted Chris's face, and felt really horrible against his eyes. JC stopped dead in his tracks, looking stupid.
"Lance is into having heads shoved up his ass," Chris said, dangerously serious.
"Oh," JC said, staring at his feet. "All right. I'm going now."
They laughed for three hours after that, managing to fit arms, legs and various other appendages into the sheaths, then fell asleep on top of each other, snoring loudly and surrounded by a halo of unused condoms. Joey commented on the waste the next day, and Chris said they hadn't been wasted at all.
~~~
"So," JC asked a few days later, "you guys dating or something?"
"Yeah," Lance said as Chris said, "not really."
Joey won the bet.
~~~
"So," Chris said casually that night while Lance brushed his teeth. "We're dating, are we?"
Lance sighed deeply. "That slipped out."
"Subconscious desire to be Lance Kirkpatrick," Chris announced, tapping Lance's forehead with two fingers, and Lance batted him away, irritated. Chris plopped down on the toilet seat cover, "or I guess Chris Bass works. Chris and Lance. sitting in a tree."
"Fuck, you're annoying," and Lance spit into the sink.
"But we're dating?"
Lance sighed. "Shut up. Let's fuck."
Chris smirked and didn't bring it up again, especially when he was pressed all sweaty and wet against Lance's back while he sucked Lance's neck and fucked him hard and deep, all twisty and crazy and hot.
When Lance moaned and groaned, and said, "love you, love you," Chris pretended not to hear and tucked it away for another day.
~~~
Lance fucking tricked Chris into a weekend at the Bass household. Come to Mississippi, Lance said, we have a weekend off, we can have lots of sex. Lance left out the part about the big Bass family get-together, at which Chris got introduced by Lance as Lance's friend.
It probably wouldn't have been too bad, but Diane cornered Chris in the cellar while Chris drank himself into serenity, thinking fucking Lance wasn't worth having every single one of Lance's aunts pinch his cheeks because he was sooooo cute and elf-like.
"Hi," Chris said meekly. "Want a drink?"
"Please," Diane said sweetly, and Chris poured her a glass, wiping the dust off on his shirt. Diane smiled and drank it all down in one gulp. "Chris, sweetie. I believe you and I need to have a little chat about my son."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris muttered, staring at his toes and wanting more wine.
"I'm well aware he's queer as a three dollar bill, honey. He doesn't think I know, but I'm not blind," Diane said, and Chris nodded because Lance practically advertised it, always had. "And you're his. friend, apparently."
"Apparently," Chris agreed because it sure looked like it, even if Lance always substituted sex for actually saying it, but Chris was sure Lance was monogamous, and they did have moments of extreme couple-ness, like this one.
"Pour me another, sweetie?" Diane asked, and Chris did as the woman bade him, not moving when she sat down next to him on the row of ages-old milk crates. "I like you, Chris."
"Thanks," Chris replied, "I like me, too."
Diane laughed and ruffled his hair like she'd always ruffled Lance's in Europe, when he'd bat her away and look embarrassed. "Really, though. I like you. And I'm happy, that it's you and not somebody who could hurt my son."
Chris nodded solemnly. That was a always a concern in this business.
"But if you do hurt him, honey, I'll tan your hide."
Diane smiled sweetly, and Chris thought about shitting himself.
~~~
Chris, of course, didn't let a mortal terror of Lance's mom ruin the weekend for him. Diane set them up in Lance's old room, under the guise of the house being too full to put Chris far away from Lance, and Chris poked around while Lance showered.
Lance, it seemed, was even gayer than originally suspected as Chris found his secret stash of Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp pictures. Old porn, which Chris flipped through and sniffed all the pages. They smelled like soap. Chris found a love letter written to some nameless guy, and it was sweet and adorable, and Chris realised that deep down, Lance was probably a romantic, somewhere inside him. Chris just wasn't getting any of it.
Lance came back smelling like the pages of his porno mags, all clean sex, and slid into bed against Chris's bare back, kissing him softly. Chris thought about grinning but toned it down to a smile, crooking his fingers against Lance's temples and saying, "I wish I understood you, man."
Lance nodded and looked sad. "I wish I understood me, too."
~~~
Chris woke up sometime in the night, when it was still dark, and looked at Lance, really looked and tried to figure out just what the fuck was going on. It was Lance, of course, it'd always been Lance, this warm and confused and handsome creature, who Chris never really paid any mind to until fucking him. That, Chris realised, bothered him more than the uncertainty of the relationship.
Lance, who was always so much warmer than Chris, who Joey complained was like an eternally burning fire, and so strangely soft for a male, with this porcelain white skin that made Chris looked tanned. Chris spread his fingers against the back, tugging the sheet off Lance's body and just looking at him, Chris sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed.
Chris stroked and touched and listened to Lance breathe, wary of changes because he didn't want to explain this moment. There wasn't much Chris could say that he hadn't already, just maybe say it more seriously, like maybe the reason Lance kept him away was because he wasn't serious enough, like maybe Lance didn't really how much Chris wanted this.
Chris depressed himself thoroughly and lay back down, feeling awful and terrible and like the worst pseudo-boyfriend ever in the history of the world. Lance could do so much better than him, and that was the crux of the matter, really. Chris knew it and so did Lance.
"Good night, Chris," Lance said, his voice raw from sleep.
"Good night, Lance," Chris replied and ventured a cautious, "love you."
Lance took a long time in replying, then whispered, "yeah."
Chris felt like crying, but didn't.
~~~
Lance bought Chris a small cactus, showing up at Chris's door with the plant in one hand, Dirk in the other, sitting calmly in his carrying basket. Behind Chris, Busta and Korea skittered about, barking at Chris's feet and jumping into walls.
"They got into my twinkies," Chris explained, and Lance nodded, smiling gently and walking into the house. Chris stepped back and touched his fingers to Lance's arm. "Uh. Was I expecting you?"
"Nope," Lance said, "I just came to see if, you know. Dirk and the pugs got along. So." Lance locked the front door and opened the cage, and Dirk stepped petulantly out, looking around before shooting off into the living room. "Hmm, good so far."
"Right," Chris said while Busta raced after Dirk, followed by Korea, who hated to be left out of anything. Chris really hoped his dogs wouldn't attempt to eat Dirk. Chris looked up just as Lance kissed him, right on the corner of his mouth. "Hi."
"Hi," Lance said and gave Chris the cactus. It was kind of pretty, in a prickly and unapproachable way.
It was kind of like Lance.
~~~
The guys came over for dinner, pizza and beer, and they walked in on Dirk and the pugs snuggling in the corner, Dirk curled on Busta's back and happy to be there. Lance and Chris were celebrating, already into the beer. Chris loved beer.
"Waaaaaaaaar!"
Chris drummed his fingers on the table and added, "what is it good for?"
"Absolutely nothing!"
"Sing it again!"
"Waaaaaaaaar!"
"Um, guys?" JC ventured, stepping into the living room. "Hello?"
"Our children get along!" Chris announced, swinging his beer bottle up in the air and spilling over all his pants, "Lance and I have fathered a successfully blended family! We're celebrating with a little Frankie Goes to Hollywood."
Lance giggled, and roared, "Waaaaaaaaar!"
~~~~
"I think Lance is really starting to like me," Chris announced, hanging on Justin's shoulders while Justin looked for a clean pair of pants for Chris to wear. Justin shrugged him off, but Chris clung like a monkey. He felt kind of drunk. "Like, really."
"Y'all put the fun in dysfunctional," Justin said, handing Chris a pair of khakis that were actually Lance's but Chris put them on anyway. "This has been dragging on for what? Three? Four months?"
"Something like that," Chris mumbled, shuffling his feet. When Justin put it like that, it seemed kind of pathetic. "But, like. Dude. I think he really likes me or something. Finally. Like, I think I have a chance."
"Fuck," Justin rubbed his forehead, "how dense can you both be? Honestly. You're both just like JC, but you don't fucking realise it. Chris, buddy, dude, Lance obviously likes you, and you obviously like him. You're fucking in love with each other, so just. get on with it. Go forward."
"But he," Chris protested mildly.
"He fucking brought his rat to see if it got along with your fat dogs. You're married. Get over it," Justin snapped, and Chris looked at his feet, wiggling his toes. Fucking infant, sounded pretty right about everything. "Jesus. Chris. Go fucking forward already!"
"All right," Chris agreed meekly, "all right. fine."
~~~
Later, as Dirk slept in a sandwich of Busta and Korea, sick from eating too much dog food and looking a lot fatter amidst the rolls of pug, Chris and Lance sat on the couch, watching television and holding hands.
"Lance," Chris said seriously, sounding dire, "we're dating."
Lance nodded, his face pressed into Chris's shoulder. "Yeah. I know."
"Oh," Chris replied, sighing deeply. "Well, sorry. You know, that it's me."
The thing about Lance is that while he smiled a lot, when he frowned it was obvious to the world, and Chris could feel it against his skin, this creepy, crawly vibration all through his body. Lance kissed Chris behind the ear. "No, no, Chris. I'm happy it's you. I just. I wasn't sure you were happy it was me."
"Sorry about that, too," Chris said, pushing back against Lance, just a nudge, and relieved when the arms came around him, like they were old lovers, like they were actually past this stage of not knowing how the other felt, like maybe they belonged here. "For not starting at the beginning. Fucking, you know, instead of falling for each other like we should have."
"I'm pretty fallen now," Lance admitted, "pretty much."
"Yeah," Chris said, "me too," and sniffed Lance's arm.
"Why do you do that?" Lance asked, "sniff me. You've done it from the beginning."
"You smell good, like, really good. like, soap, but a really nice kind."
"It's yours," Lance said, "I borrowed it, like, the night before we slept together, and I just never gave it back. You smell like it, too. All the time."
"No shit," Chris said, sniffing again. "I don't recognise it."
"I guess you just had to be told before you knew it was yours."
And Chris smiled, and nodded, and said, "yeah, I guess so."
Fin.
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