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Nov. 19th, 2008 07:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsFlist. It's been a bit of a day. This morning, after we'd been shopping, I brought my sandwich home and found out I'd mixed them up and ended up with James' gross crab sandwich while he had my chicken one. Woe.
Also, I got mixed up again and thought it was Inky's birthday today, which it isn't, and I knew that. Just I'm stupid. So I quickly wrote her something, then realised that gah. No, it is not Inky time yet. However, she's having a bit of a day, too. So I'm posting these anyway.
But first, let me tell you my plan. The plan was 4 drabbles that show how Chris loves his bandmates. Then I checked and the first one was over 250 words. At which point I considered writing them all and just posting them how they turned out, whatever the wordcount, while also announcing them as drabbles. Which would mean I could then post a locked post about morons who post ficlets and call them drabbles.
Instead I made them into one triple drabble and three double drabbles. Hey, it counts!
It takes five minutes of silence, but eventually JC says, “What if I’ve made a mistake?”
Chris shrugs and curls his toes in the sand. “The world won’t stop turning if you have.”
“Maybe it’s a ride I don’t want to be on anymore.”
“Come on.” Chris stands then, brushing at his shorts. “You can buy me an ice cream.”
JC looks up, his hand held up against the sun. “I’m questioning my place in life, my career plans and you want an ice cream?”
“Tell me honestly that you weren’t thinking of rollercoasters just then and I’ll sit back down.”
JC frowns. “It’s a valid metaphor.”
“It is,” Chris agrees, “and while you’re thinking in metaphors I know you’ll be fine. So come on. Up.”
“Your whole assessment of my mental health is based on my ability to create a metaphor? Because that’s kind of sketchy.”
“Maybe,” Chris says. “There’s also the fact I know you.”
“And you think I need an ice-cream?”
Chris nods. “A chocolate one with caramel sauce that’ll melt down our fingers as we make plans to prank call, J.”
“Isn’t that your favourite?” JC says, and he stands and brushes at his sandy feet, using Chris’ shoulder for support.
“They’re just going to get sandy again,” Chris points out. “And yes, that’s my favourite, too.”
“Convenient,” JC says. “I suppose I’m buying.”
Chris grins. “Consider it payment for sorting out your mental anguish.”
“I will.” JC picks up his shoes, a black sock shoved into each one. “So, prank-calling and ice cream?”
“It’s what all the cool kids are doing.” Chris starts to walk, picking his way through the shells that lie half buried in the sand. He looks back, “And for the record, you’re not making a mistake.”
JC smiles, says, “I know.”
~~~~~~
“You know what would be good?” Chris says. “Chocolate drops for a beard.”
Bri tilts her head, mouth twisted up as she considers. “There’s some in the pantry. Mom hides them, but I know.”
She’s grinning wide, and Chris can’t help but grin back as she grabs a chair and pulls it toward the pantry, the legs scraping against the tile floor.
“Are you encouraging my child to make a chocolate run?”
“I am, Chris says, wholly unapologetic. “We’re making decorated waffles for your breakfast.”
“Cool.” Joey walks into the kitchen and rests his arm over Chris’ shoulder, pulling him into a hug. “I like the whipped-cream hair.”
“Nice touch, yeah?” Chris looks over at Joey and then runs his finger along the hairline of the waffle!Joey, eating the excess cream. “That’s better.”
Laughing, Joey picks up the can of cream. “I’ll show you….”
Chris holds up his hand. “No violence to your guests, and this is supposed to be a surprise, so….”
“You’re telling me to get out, Kirkpatrick?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Go back to bed and we’ll bring you waffles, with chocolate drops and cream.”
Joey grins. “You say that as if I’m easy.”
He goes.
~~~~~~~
“You have glitter in your hair,” Chris says.
“I’ve glitter everywhere.”
It’s true; Lance is covered in glitter, from the slight shimmer along his cheekbones to the glossy squares that are clinging to his costume and bare arms. Chris peels a square from Lance’s shoulder and lets it flutter to the floor.
“You won.”
“I did.” As opposed to before, Lance’s smile is smaller now, stripped back but no less genuine as he shifts in place, energy levels still high. “It feels like I could dance forever.”
Chris looks around, all the cameras are gone and they’re the only people around, he holds out his hands. “Come on, then.”
Grinning, Lance grabs hold and twirls them around. There’s no attempt at form or routine, just Lance spinning them from one side of the room to the other, Chris doing his own version of a jive that makes Lance tip back his head and laugh, even as they spin again.
Lance’s hands are slippery with sweat and Chris’ palms are shiny with glitter when they break apart and spontaneously break into unified Bye Bye Bye stomps and hand movements before ending the impromptu routine, their arms held triumphantly in the air.
~~~~~~~
“Justin needs to go home now; it’s time to tuck him up in bed.” Chris pushes his way between two reporters, blinking at the resulting flashes of light as he wraps his fingers around Justin’s wrist. “He’ll be allowed out to play again tomorrow.”
Flashing his ‘what can you do?’ smile, Justin allows himself to be led away, remaining quiet until they’re across the lobby, security between them and the crowd. “You know, I can deal with the press.”
“I know,” Chris says as he calls the elevator. “I was hungry.”
“And you needed me to watch you eat?”
Chris rolls his eyes. “No, moron. I needed you to let me into your suite.”
“To which I have a key, one I would have given you, even.”
The elevator doors open and Chris pushes Justin inside. “You know it’s a bad idea to leave me alone.”
“You’re a needy freak,” Justin says, and rests heavily against the mirrored wall. “They make a mean tomato pasta.”
Chris shakes his head. “I’m thinking burger and fries, a chocolate shake for when I’m watching the movie.”
“You’re staying for a movie, too?”
“Of course,” Chris says. “There’s a pillow with my name on.”
Justin nods a little, looks at Chris. “When you order, make that two.”
Also, I got mixed up again and thought it was Inky's birthday today, which it isn't, and I knew that. Just I'm stupid. So I quickly wrote her something, then realised that gah. No, it is not Inky time yet. However, she's having a bit of a day, too. So I'm posting these anyway.
But first, let me tell you my plan. The plan was 4 drabbles that show how Chris loves his bandmates. Then I checked and the first one was over 250 words. At which point I considered writing them all and just posting them how they turned out, whatever the wordcount, while also announcing them as drabbles. Which would mean I could then post a locked post about morons who post ficlets and call them drabbles.
Instead I made them into one triple drabble and three double drabbles. Hey, it counts!
It takes five minutes of silence, but eventually JC says, “What if I’ve made a mistake?”
Chris shrugs and curls his toes in the sand. “The world won’t stop turning if you have.”
“Maybe it’s a ride I don’t want to be on anymore.”
“Come on.” Chris stands then, brushing at his shorts. “You can buy me an ice cream.”
JC looks up, his hand held up against the sun. “I’m questioning my place in life, my career plans and you want an ice cream?”
“Tell me honestly that you weren’t thinking of rollercoasters just then and I’ll sit back down.”
JC frowns. “It’s a valid metaphor.”
“It is,” Chris agrees, “and while you’re thinking in metaphors I know you’ll be fine. So come on. Up.”
“Your whole assessment of my mental health is based on my ability to create a metaphor? Because that’s kind of sketchy.”
“Maybe,” Chris says. “There’s also the fact I know you.”
“And you think I need an ice-cream?”
Chris nods. “A chocolate one with caramel sauce that’ll melt down our fingers as we make plans to prank call, J.”
“Isn’t that your favourite?” JC says, and he stands and brushes at his sandy feet, using Chris’ shoulder for support.
“They’re just going to get sandy again,” Chris points out. “And yes, that’s my favourite, too.”
“Convenient,” JC says. “I suppose I’m buying.”
Chris grins. “Consider it payment for sorting out your mental anguish.”
“I will.” JC picks up his shoes, a black sock shoved into each one. “So, prank-calling and ice cream?”
“It’s what all the cool kids are doing.” Chris starts to walk, picking his way through the shells that lie half buried in the sand. He looks back, “And for the record, you’re not making a mistake.”
JC smiles, says, “I know.”
~~~~~~
“You know what would be good?” Chris says. “Chocolate drops for a beard.”
Bri tilts her head, mouth twisted up as she considers. “There’s some in the pantry. Mom hides them, but I know.”
She’s grinning wide, and Chris can’t help but grin back as she grabs a chair and pulls it toward the pantry, the legs scraping against the tile floor.
“Are you encouraging my child to make a chocolate run?”
“I am, Chris says, wholly unapologetic. “We’re making decorated waffles for your breakfast.”
“Cool.” Joey walks into the kitchen and rests his arm over Chris’ shoulder, pulling him into a hug. “I like the whipped-cream hair.”
“Nice touch, yeah?” Chris looks over at Joey and then runs his finger along the hairline of the waffle!Joey, eating the excess cream. “That’s better.”
Laughing, Joey picks up the can of cream. “I’ll show you….”
Chris holds up his hand. “No violence to your guests, and this is supposed to be a surprise, so….”
“You’re telling me to get out, Kirkpatrick?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Go back to bed and we’ll bring you waffles, with chocolate drops and cream.”
Joey grins. “You say that as if I’m easy.”
He goes.
~~~~~~~
“You have glitter in your hair,” Chris says.
“I’ve glitter everywhere.”
It’s true; Lance is covered in glitter, from the slight shimmer along his cheekbones to the glossy squares that are clinging to his costume and bare arms. Chris peels a square from Lance’s shoulder and lets it flutter to the floor.
“You won.”
“I did.” As opposed to before, Lance’s smile is smaller now, stripped back but no less genuine as he shifts in place, energy levels still high. “It feels like I could dance forever.”
Chris looks around, all the cameras are gone and they’re the only people around, he holds out his hands. “Come on, then.”
Grinning, Lance grabs hold and twirls them around. There’s no attempt at form or routine, just Lance spinning them from one side of the room to the other, Chris doing his own version of a jive that makes Lance tip back his head and laugh, even as they spin again.
Lance’s hands are slippery with sweat and Chris’ palms are shiny with glitter when they break apart and spontaneously break into unified Bye Bye Bye stomps and hand movements before ending the impromptu routine, their arms held triumphantly in the air.
~~~~~~~
“Justin needs to go home now; it’s time to tuck him up in bed.” Chris pushes his way between two reporters, blinking at the resulting flashes of light as he wraps his fingers around Justin’s wrist. “He’ll be allowed out to play again tomorrow.”
Flashing his ‘what can you do?’ smile, Justin allows himself to be led away, remaining quiet until they’re across the lobby, security between them and the crowd. “You know, I can deal with the press.”
“I know,” Chris says as he calls the elevator. “I was hungry.”
“And you needed me to watch you eat?”
Chris rolls his eyes. “No, moron. I needed you to let me into your suite.”
“To which I have a key, one I would have given you, even.”
The elevator doors open and Chris pushes Justin inside. “You know it’s a bad idea to leave me alone.”
“You’re a needy freak,” Justin says, and rests heavily against the mirrored wall. “They make a mean tomato pasta.”
Chris shakes his head. “I’m thinking burger and fries, a chocolate shake for when I’m watching the movie.”
“You’re staying for a movie, too?”
“Of course,” Chris says. “There’s a pillow with my name on.”
Justin nods a little, looks at Chris. “When you order, make that two.”
