Three
JC
was sitting on the bed when Lance got out of the shower. He gulped as he looked
at Lance, who was wearing only a towel. “Hey.”
“God,
you scared me!” Lance gasped, then grinned. “Hey, yourself.”
“Chris
kicked himself out of the house,” JC said. “And he ordered us dinner.”
“Wow.
He IS trying to redeem himself,” Lance said with a grin. “Guess I don't need to
get dressed again, then.”
“Well,
uh, no,” JC said, watching the muscles of Lance's back ripple as he bent down
to dig through his bag.
Lance turned around and smiled at him. His
eyes never left JC's face as the towel dropped.
“Dinner's
probably cold,” JC mumbled against Lance's chest.
“Mmmhmm…”
Lance rumbled, his fingers tracing lazy circles up and down JC's back.
“Did
you really rent us a house in France?” JC asked. Lance's hand stopped moving.
“Yes.
Is it okay? I mean, I can cancel and we can go somewhere else. Or we can stay
right here. I just wanted to spend time with you.”
“Like
where else?” JC asked, propping himself up on one hand.
“Oh…Madrid.
Or London, if you REALLY wanted. Or Italy, though I'm not that fond of it.”
Lance wrinkled his nose. “Where would you like to go?”
“I'm
fine with France…I just wanted to see what else you'd say,” JC said with a
grin.
“Brat.”
Lance tickled JC briefly, then released him. “I just want to spend some time
with you, JC. I feel like we kinda skipped over the 'get to know you' part.”
“I
didn't. I know you. I see you on the big screen all the time,” JC teased.
“Oh,
yes, and that's the REAL me up there,” Lance said sarcastically.
“Tell
me three faults,” JC said.
Lance
thought for a moment. “I let my characters take over my real life sometimes. I
hate folding laundry. I tend to get kinda spoiled.”
“And
those are such AWFUL faults,” JC said, rolling his eyes. He slowly sat up and
grabbed his jeans off the floor. “You're practically perfect.”
“You
ARE perfect,” Lance said, watching JC get dressed. JC blushed.
“I'm gonna get dinner together.” He left the
bedroom.
When
JC came out of the kitchen to see what Lance was up to, he found him on the
sofa, laughing at a cartoon on the Disney Channel. “You watch the Disney
Channel?” JC asked, putting silverware and napkins on the coffee table.
“I
love the Disney Channel. I was asked to guest star on Lizzie McGuire, but I
couldn't fit it into my schedule,” Lance said, sighing. “I'd love to do a voice
on a cartoon, though.”
“It
would have to be a porn cartoon, though, with that voice,” JC said. Lance
blushed.
“Whatever.
So…wanna go shopping tomorrow, for the trip?”
JC
returned to the kitchen and came back with a tray of food and two bottles of
beer. “For what?”
“Whatever…condoms,
lube, sex toys…” Lance listed, watching JC turn red. Lance laughed. “Nah…I have
all that in my suitcase.” JC turned even redder. “Seriously…I didn't know if
you wanted some new clothes or something.”
“You
know you don't have to buy me, right?” JC said softly. Lance frowned.
“I
wasn't trying to. I just…I thought maybe we'd go into the city one night and
have a nice dinner. I didn't know if you had anything really dressy. Plus I
like to buy you things. Is that such a big deal?”
“No.
I'm sorry.” JC sighed and flopped down next to Lance on the sofa. “It's just
weird. I mean, selling those paintings to the hotel got me a nice little bundle
in the bank, yet it's nothing compared to what you have.”
“I
don't have hundred dollar bills flying out of my pockets, Josh. Most of my
money is in the bank, in the stock market, or tied up in real estate.”
“How
many houses do you own?” JC asked. Lance thought for a moment.
“Um…beach
houses in California and Florida, an apartment in New York, a house in
Mississippi…condo in Rio…” Lance counted off on his fingers. “That's it.”
“That's
IT?” JC gasped. “I'd love to OWN a house or a condo or something,” he said
wistfully.
“Well,
there's always Christmas,” Lance said cheerfully.
“You'd
do that, wouldn't you?” JC asked.
“I'd
love to spoil you rotten at Christmas. And I totally plan on doing it, too,”
Lance said. He pulled JC back to snuggle against him. “Enough money talk. Let's
eat our dinner and enjoy our time together, okay?”
“Okay,” JC sighed.
“You
need these,” Lance said, holding up the leather pants.
“Ohhhh,
no, I don't.” JC took them from Lance and shoved them back onto the rack. “I
thought we were here to dress me up.”
“But
I'd have a lot of fun undressing you,” Lance said quietly, to make JC blush.
“Mr.
Bass…can I have your autograph?” The salesclerk asked politely.
“Of
course.” Lance gave her a kind smile and signed the paper she gave him. “We'll
take those suits over there…that sweater…and the coat.”
“Yes,
sir.” The clerk went to ring everything up.
“This
is too much,” JC said, looking at the piles of clothing.
“You're
worth every penny,” Lance promised him. He slyly looked at the people who were
watching them. “You do realize, of course, that everyone in town will now think
that you're my mister.”
“Your
mister?”
“You
know, like mistress…they'll think I'm paying for your apartment, buying you
everything…”
“Chris
would love that,” JC said, laughing. “I like being your mister.”
“You're
not, you know,” Lance said. “The money doesn't count.”
“The
money doesn't count,” JC repeated, though he didn't really believe it.
