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Erin > Fiction > The Turbulent Mating Cycle of the North American Snarkbeast
It was a balmy day in early fall. Somehow, the five members of Nsync had managed to squeeze enough time into their individual schedules for them to have a cookout in Joey's backyard. Funny, that. A break of over a year, and they pretty much had all kept so busy that they barely had time to breathe, much less, well, actually take a break.
"Hey, Bass!"
"What, Chris?"
"Do you have the ketchup?"
"No, actually. This bottle of red stuff in my hand labeled 'ketchup' is actually goat's blood for the Satanic ritual I have scheduled for once I leave here."
"Cool! Pass the goat's blood!"
Lance laughed a little, throwing the ketchup bottle to Chris, who deftly caught it. "There you go."
"Thank you, my good man. Now everyone stand back and watch an artist at work."
Arching an eyebrow, Lance remarked, "I don't think that making a smiley face on your burger with ketchup and mustard with a pickle nose actually qualifies as fine art."
"Pft! That's what you think, you heathen! I scoff at your ignorance! Scoff! Scoff, I say!"
Rolling his eyes, Lance replied, "Man, lay off the caffeine."
"I can't," Chris said. "It's naturally produced in my spleen."
"That actually explains a hell of a lot."
"Exactly!" Chris chirped cheerfully. "Oh, hey, Ugly!"
A slight sigh. "What, Chris?"
"Ha! You answered to Ugly!" Chris burst into hysterical giggles. Lance just shook his head.
Joey, Justin, and JC simply shared wordless glances over their own burgers.
~
"So. How long do you think before they just fuck and get it over with?"
Joey laughed. Lance and Chris had been the first two to leave the party, leaving the three Js to talk amongst themselves. JC blinked. "Huh?"
Justin jerked his head backwards over his shoulder. "Those two. You heard them snarking at each other all afternoon, right?"
JC nodded. "Yeah..."
Joey grinned. "So, look at those two. It's Lance and Chris. Snark is like a mating ritual for them."
"I never actually thought about it that way," JC said with a soft laugh.
Justin cracked his knuckles, leaning back in his seat. "So. Pool? Fifty bucks each, whoever's closest wins."
Joey grinned. "I'm in."
"Me too," JC added, reaching for his wallet.
Justin smiled. "This'll be fun."
~
It continued in much the same way for the following weeks. Even when Lance and Chris were on opposite coasts, one of them was calling the other one for the express purpose of harassment. It settled into more or less a routine for the two of them. Pretty much every night, if one of them hadn't called, the other had.
So it was like that yet another evening. Lance was pulling some stuff out of boxes. He'd already unpacked most of the stuff to his new place in LA, but the dishes still had to be unloaded. He'd been living on delivery pizza and Chinese in the intervening time. Not that he'd even bought any food to use the dishes for. He'd unwrapped a glass when he heard his cell ring. A quick glance at the caller ID, and he picked up. "Fuckburger!!"
"Fishboy!"
Lance smirked. "There's a new one. What're you up to?"
"Eh, not much. Bored, decided to give you a call."
"So you decided that somehow I'd unbore you?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Come to think of it, I dunno where I got that idea."
"Well, fuck you very much, too!"
"Sure thing, man. What are you doing?"
"Oh, y'know. Unpacking. Although I swear, my shit doesn't fill half of this house."
Chris laughed, the sound filtering easily through the phone. "That's what you get for buying a place the size of some small countries."
Lance shook his head. "You really suck, man."
"Yeah, I know. You love me for it."
"Sure, man. Whatever you say."
Lance's doorbell rang. "Oh, can you hold on a second, Chris? Someone's at the door. Probably the pizza I ordered."
Chris sniffled. "You're dumping me for the pizzaman?"
A quick snort of laughter. "Yeah, man." He headed toward the door and pulled it open. Chris was standing with his pizza in one hand and his cell in the other. And a grin on his face.
"Too bad. I bribed him gone. And he was a chick anyway."
Lance rolled his eyes and grabbed the pizza. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey! That's fifteen bucks!"
"Wow. Thanks for buying it for me, then."
"You're at least gonna share, right?"
"Of course. Get your ass in here."
"You're so generous."
"Of course."
The two of them sat at Lance's kitchenette, digging into the pizza. "So what are you doing here, man?"
Chris smirked. "I was in the neighborhood, and decided to drop by and bother you?"
"And why were you in the neighborhood?"
"Because I wanted to bother you."
Lance laughed. "You are something else, man."
"So I've been told."
"Yeah, I bet. So, you gonna help me unpack?"
Chris smirked slightly. "I'll help you out."
Lance arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "With the dishes?"
A laugh, and Chris returned to his piece of pizza. He didn't answer.
Between the two of them, they polished off the pizza rather quickly. Lance stood and threw the box away. But just as soon as he finished doing so, he found his back pressed tightly against the wall and Chris's mouth tightly pressed to his. Chris didn't let up easily, either. When he finally pulled back, it left Lance gasping for breath. "What the.."
Chris bent his head and softly bit the spot where Lance's neck met his shoulder. "Just.. couldn't help myself anymore," he murmured against Lance's skin. "And if you don't... just... tell me now, because.."
Lance allowed a faint smile to touch the corners of his mouth. "I didn't say I was complaining."
A slow dark smile, and Chris grabbed a hold of Lance's shirt, pulling him closer. "Floor?" he whispered huskily.
Lance arched an eyebrow. "Tile's kinda cold..."
"Don't mean it's gonna stay that way."
He burst into laughter, but complied with the request.
Some time later, they were laying entangled on the floor. Their clothes, however, were sprawled across the countertops. Chris lazily dragged a finger up Lance's spine. "So. Lance.."
"Yeah?"
"Wanna go out with me?"
Lance looked wry. "Decided you can't get enough of this?"
"Somethin' like that."
"Then sure."
Chris nuzzled Lance's neck. "Good."
Later that afternoon, quite some ways away, Justin picked up his ringing cell. "Hello?"
"Hey, man! Whassuuuuuuuup?"
"Chris?"
"The one and only."
"Well, you sound happy."
"Oh, fabulous!"
"Might I ask why?"
"Because, oh dear Mr. Timberlake... I have been laid. And laid well."
Justin squeezed his eyes closed. "Lance?" He ventured a look up at the calendar.
"Yep."
"When?"
"Earlier this afternoon."
Justin sighed. "Couldn't you have finally boned him yesterday?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, man. Get back to your loverboy. Have fun. Christen every room in the house."
"Oh, I plan to!"
The phone disconnected. Justin scowled. He owed Joey money.
~
Granted, just because Lance and Chris had finally hooked up didn't mean there was any quick end to the sniping at each other. It just shifted. It was no longer mating ritual snark. It was just comfortable flirting snark. Not that anyone could really tell the difference. Except for them. Which, of course, made sense.
One evening, a few weeks later, Lance and Chris were lying around Lance's house watching TV. Chris had his head in Lance's lap, and Lance was playing with his hair, commenting on how perhaps he should dye it rainbow colors. ('Then at least people would get some warning of your incredible freakishness before you opened your mouth.' 'Nah. I like catching 'em by surprise.')
"Chris?" Lance murmured, looking down at him.
"Hmm?"
"Love you."
Chris paled almost imperceptibly and swallowed. "You... do?"
"Mmhm."
"Well... um... thanks?"
Lance blinked, arching an eyebrow. "You're welcome. Freak."
Chris had no apparent witty rejoinder. In fact, he was rather quiet for the rest of the evening.
~
The next day, Justin answered a series of rather frantic knocks on his door. He opened it, only to find Chris, looking easily about as freaked out as Justin had ever seen him. "It's going to fall apart. I just know it. I can tell and I'm the only damn one who can!"
Justin frowned. "Hold on, man. Take a deep breath and tell me where exactly you're coming up with this."
"It's just... he's getting impatient. I can tell. He's said it and he... he wants me to, I know he does, but I... I just can't. Shit, my gut tells me that I care more for him than I've probably ever cared about anyone I've ever gone out with. But it can't... I mean... when you go and bring lo- that into it, it's... I can't."
Justin blinked. "And why are you telling me this and not him?"
"Because!" Chris all but squeaked, "He'll take it wrong! You know Lance. He looks for hidden meanings in the tiniest things. If I just tell him I can't say... that... he'll think I hate him or something."
"What, but it's fine when you call him Captain Crapbiscuit?"
"That's different. This is actually serious."
"Chris, man, don't you think--"
"I'll tell you what I think. I think that- No. I know that I'm chickenshit. It always takes me too long, J. It's not that I don't feel shit, I just... I want to be sure. You know?"
Justin nodded. "Yeah. I can understand that."
"And it's just... Once you say... that... you can't take it back, y'know? It's out there, and that piece of you is with the other person. And it stays there. Forever. And when shit happens and it falls apart, they leave with a piece of you that you can't get back."
"Chris... When it falls apart? Why not if?"
Chris took a deep breath and met Justin's gaze with his own. "It always falls apart. I just need to decide how much I'm willing to get hurt this time."
Before Justin had a chance to reply to that, Chris was gone.
~
Life was fairly quiet for at least a month after that. Chris and Lance had steadied themselves into a status quo. The sex was great. Neither of them complained at all about that. Actually, neither of them really complained about anything. But Lance was restless. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was taking the whole thing more seriously than Chris. And Chris really wasn't doing anything to disabuse him of the notion.
One afternoon, they were nestled together in his bed after yet another extended period of hard, fast, and long, that neither of them would dream of complaining about. Lance bit his lower lip softly and turned to Chris. "Chris.. I do love you.."
Chris forced a smile to his face. "Talented as I am?" he said airily, "How could you not?"
Lance closed his eyes, finding his fists unconsciously clenching. "Fuck it, Chris. Just... get dressed and go."
Chris blinked. "What?"
"I can't handle this anymore, Chris. We want different things here. Just... It was great while it lasted, but... It's not working out."
"Oh." The reply was soft.
Lance took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, man. Just... Leave?"
"Yeah. Sure. No problem. I'll be out of your hair in a minute and a half."
Lance sighed. "Thank you."
It took five minutes. But he was.
~
Lance was eating breakfast two days later when he was interrupted by his doorbell ringing. He barely had time to put his fork down before it rang another four times in quick succession. By the time he finally got to the door, it had run about ten more times. He pulled it open to find Justin standing on his front step, glowering.
"Justin? What the hell are you--"
Justin breezed in, grabbing Lance by the wrist and closing the door behind him. "We gotta talk, man." He dragged Lance over to the nearest couch and sat down. "Okay. Just what the fuck is your problem?"
Lance blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Do you know what Chris has been doing for the last day and a half?"
Lance stiffened perceptibly. "What?"
"Lying on my couch staring at absolutely nothing. He's not even eating. You fucking crushed him, Lance."
"Like hell I did. It was entirely his choice to treat what we had like another fucking casual weekend fling. It actually meant something to me."
Justin stared incredulously at Lance. "How long has it been since you met him? And you only know him that well?"
"Oh, come on, Justin."
"No, Lance. You come on. He's paranoid about relationships. He always has been. You have to know that."
"Yeah, well, there's two people involved here. How long has he known me now? And he doesn't trust me enough to--"
"He doesn't trust himself, Lance!"
"What the--"
"No. Just listen to me for a second. In his entire fucking life, there are a grand total of nine people that are critically important to him that have actually stuck with him. His mom, his sisters, and us. His dad left. His stepdads left. Every girl or guy he ever went out with dumped him. He cares like hell about you, Lance, but he doesn't believe that he has whatever quality people have that make other people stay with them, so he guards himself to try not to get hurt when what he sees as inevitable finally happens. And maybe-- No, not maybe. From a relationship standing, it is partially his fault, but dammit, Lance, you have got to try to work with him. For his sake. And for yours."
Lance closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'll have to think about it."
"That's fine," Justin replied, voice soft for the first time since Lance had opened the door, "Think about it. But he's really hurting. And I think that you are too." Without another word, Justin stood up and headed back to the front door and out. Lance just sighed again, alone with his thoughts.
~
Another week went by. Chris had returned to Orlando. His life still, however, didn't consist of much more than planting himself on the couch. At least he'd improved to the point where he was planted on the couch watching television. And eating. Occasionally.
The doorbell rang.
Chris exhaled deeply, climbing to his feet to go answer it. Once he opened the door, his first instinct was to slam it closed again. But Lance had stepped inside before he'd really gathered the presence of mind to."
"Lance."
"Chris."
"What do you want?"
"I want to say I'm sorry."
That wasn't precisely what Chris had been expecting. "You... what?"
"I'm sorry. I should have trusted you more than I did."
Chris was completely perplexed. "Huh?"
"Chris... Every damn time I looked into your eyes, I could tell that you cared. Just because you didn't say anything doesn't mean you didn't feel anything. I was just... insecure, whatever. I'm sorry."
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Chris replied, "Did J put you up to this?"
Lance shook his head. "No. I just.. thought about it some."
Chris blinked. "This is.. backwards, man."
Lance arched an eyebrow. "Backwards?"
"Yeah. I'm always supposed to be the one who apologizes for fucking shit up."
"Chris... we had a good thing. I just overanalyzed it. I'm sorry. And I wanna try again."
Chris glanced nervously over his shoulder, half expecting Ashton Kutcher to come walking up or something. However, there were no signs of hidden cameras or anything, so... "Okay."
He glanced back to Lance, who glowed so damn much that Chris couldn't help but laugh. "Dude, I'm not that big a catch."
Lance smiled. "You are to me." He pulled Chris tightly to him and kissed his cheek softly.
Chris sighed contentedly. "Love you." It slipped out before he had much chance to think about it.
Lance paused for a moment. "You're just saying that because you want my body."
Chris laughed. "Damn straight."
"Ass."
"Dickwad."
Life was good.