Pairing: Chris and Nick
Words: fodder; lunge; drizzle; cosmetic
"We're going to have a deep, meaningful conversation about our relationship?"
"Are you feeling all right, Chris?" Nick gave him a strange look. "You sound sick. Or gay, or something."
Chris smacked him. "Doofus. I'm sleeping with you. Of course I'm gay. Now, sit down so we can have a deep, meaningful conversation."
"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"
"No. Why the hell would you think something like that?"
Nick rolled his eyes. "Because you want to talk about our 'relationship'. That's what women say right before they hit you between the eyes with a two-by-four."
Chris held his hands up for inspection. "Do you see wood in these hands?"
"No, because you're not groping yourself."
"Shut up."
"Okay. Does that mean I don't have to have a deep, meaningful conversation?"
"No, it does not. Sit down, shut up and participate. Or else." Chris pushed on Nick's shoulders, and Nick reluctantly gave in and let himself be shoved down onto the couch.
Nick watched Chris pace up and down in front of the couch for a few minutes before clearing his throat. "So did you actually have something to say or can I go do something really meaningful now, like grouting the bathroom tiles?"
"Dude, you've never grouted anything in your life. You wouldn't know a grout if a wild one escaped from the shower, lunged at you and bit you in the ass."
"A, I'm pretty sure grouts aren't animals, and B, even if they were, getting bitten by them would be better than talking. Which you're not doing. So do it already or let me do something else."
Chris nodded firmly. "Okay. Yeah. So, this is it. Deep and meaningful. You and me, we don't have a deep or meaningful relationship. You come over to my house, we screw around, and then you go home until the next time. Lather, rinse, repeat. Hell, we don't even have sex that often anymore. And what kind of gay fuck buddies are we if we aren't having sex?"
"Um, friends?" Nick offered.
"I'm not done yet."
Nick held up his hands when Chris glared at him, and made a zipping motion across his lips.
"Right. So, we're dating, but we're not having sex, we're just hanging out together. So we're friends, except we have sex, and rest assured, I have other friends. Shut up. I do." Chris waggled his finger at Nick, who tried to look innocent of all thoughts to the contrary. "So this is something else. Something serious. Something like what -- and I can't believe I'm saying this, but it has to be said -- married people do."
"No!" Nick pretended to be shocked. It was entertaining watching Chris freak out.
"Yes! We got married and we didn't even notice!"
"So what's the problem?"
"What's the problem?" Chris nearly shrieked. "What's the problem?"
"Yeah."
"I guess there isn't a problem if you don't have a problem. I mean, if you're not going to freak out on me and do girly shit like buying cosmetics and wanting to get a ring and move to Vermont or something."
"You have a problem with guys wearing eyeliner?"
"Um..."
"Because lots of guys do it. It's even kinda not hip, because it's too done, y'know? Then there's our concerts. And photo shoots. And..."
"I don't have a problem with men wearing make-up."
"Oh, good. 'Cause, you know, that'd be kinda of hypocritical."
"Look, can we stick to the subject here? I'm trying to freak out, and you're not being at all helpful."
"But it's funny watching you get upset."
"Nick!"
"What?"
Chris covered his eyes, then gave up, sitting down heavily on the couch. "Never mind. It's not important. Go, do whatever it is you were going to do. Slay the evil grout."
Danger, Will Carter, danger! "Hey," Nick said, reaching out to squeeze Chris' shoulder. "I'll be good, I promise. You want to talk about this, we can talk about it. Even if I'd rather be dragged naked through Orlando facedown behind a car."
Chris jerked away from him. "No. It's fine. Go away."
Nick threw himself sideways across the couch, putting his head in Chris' lap. "I'll get you a ring, if you want a ring. You like big diamonds? Or maybe something tacky? Our initials in a heart spelled out in emeralds or something? I can do that."
"Fucker," Chris said, but his hand was in Nick's hair.
"I don't really like cold weather, though. So can we not do the Vermont thing? I mean, if you really want to, I suppose I could put up with it for a while. But when the temperature drops below 75F, I want to put on a sweater or something. And I hear that it does that there."
"It snows, too," Chris said solemnly.
"What's that like? Solid rain, or something? 'Cause I don't mind rain, unless it's drizzling, because that sucks. Then it's not raining and not not raining, but just pretending to rain, and I don't like that."
"We don't have to move to Vermont."
"Oh, good." Nick closed his eyes, and nuzzled at Chris' stomach. "Because I don't think I'd like it there very much. I like it here, with you."
"So -- oh! -- you don't think it's too much?"
Nick paused and looked up. "Too much of what?"
"Us. You and me. You don't think we're too old married couple-ish?"
"We're whatever we want to be. I like what we are. Don't you?"
"Yeah. I just... sometimes this feels too comfortable, too right, too easy, and I get worried. Things aren't supposed to be this easy."
Nick turned on his side and scooted up a little so he could wrap his arms around Chris' waist. "Things aren't easy. I never get to see you, and most of the time, when I do, we have to worry about whether it's going to be fodder for some new sotry about intergroup rivalry, or god forbid, the actual truth, because god knows, the truth would be just as bad or worse than what the press could make up about what's going on. And then there's how our friends feel about this. You know what Kevin thinks. And, dude, if I never have to deal with Justin or Lance again, I'll be perfectly happy. I think Lance has a contract out on me."
"Nah. If Lance had a contract out on you, you'd be dead already. He doesn't screw up things like that."
"Thanks. I feel so much better," Nick said drily. "But really. The only easy part about this is that I like being with you. Everything else, not easy. So that good enough for you? Can we forget about the deep and meangful conversation and move onto the cheap and meaningless sex?"
"Okay. Yeah, sure." Chris grinned at him, and pushed him off the couch before leaping on him, straddling his waist, sticking his face into his neck and licking him lewdly. "But, for the record, I happen to think the sex is pretty meaningful."
![[Powered By MySQL]](/images/mysql-04.gif)
Copyright Notice: All entries are copyright (and the responsibility of) their respective authors.
