the Whole No. 7: Some Reason
"There's always some reason
"Hey, gorgeous," he said to Lance. Lance glanced up from his paper.
"I wish you'd stop that," he said, but he didn't really. He said that because he wasn't used to it, being the gorgeous one, but he liked it that people noticed, even Chris.
"But I'm not gonna," Chris told him. Lance snorted and went back to reading. "So," Chris said. Everyone else was busy at the moment, JC with the crew, Justin talking to Joey, and there wasn't any point in letting Lance sit around and mope in his silent stoic moping way. "When are you gonna dump that loser and realize that I really love you?"
"Face it, Chris," Lance told him, turning a page. "I'm way out of your league."
"Bastard," Chris said. "I'd hate you, but you're too pretty to hate."
Lance lifted an eyebrow at him. "You're not," he said.
Chris clutched at his chest, wounded. "When are we testing pyro?" he asked.
"Cool." He hopped up into the chair next to Lance. "What's happening, hot stuff?"
"War, fighting, crappy market. Oh, and AJ's back in rehab."
"Dude, he's so not getting a fruit basket from me this time."
Chris propped his chin in his hand and looked sidelong at Lance, who was apparently really reading, eyes flickering back and forth over the text even though his boyfriend or someone who was about to be his boyfriend was standing not twenty yards away chatting with Justin. That was the thing about Lance: he was cool. He got nervous, still, and was scared of shit (including spiders, which Chris thought was funny because spiders were such a stupid thing to be scared of), and he'd never been the smoothest operator, but when Lance wanted something he went for it. One hundred percent. Prep the torpedos and devil take the hindmost, and every other stupid southern phrase about going for it. The short story was Lance had balls and you had to admire that, even when it was breaking your best friend's heart.
"I don't know why we haven't killed you and hired a girl instead," Lance said without looking up from his paper.
"Because a girl doesn't make you feel the same way I make you feel," Chris said and slid down off his chair. "Gimme a kiss." He leaned over the top of Lance's paper and made a fish face. Lance rolled his eyes and kissed, his mouth dry against Chris'.
"Now, go away," he said.
"I get no love." Chris sighed.
"I just kissed you."
"Not like you meant it."
"On the mouth," Lance said.
"Whatever." Chris waved his hand at Lance, and turned in time to catch Justin slapping at Joey's hands. "Hey, play nice, babies!" he shouted and watched Justin flinch. Poor kid. Lance, Chris noticed, was still reading his paper, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Chris smiled. Lance had balls.