COLORFUL
by Jodi and Clueless.

Just a little improv with each of us taking turns writing one line at a time. Thanks to Janette, who started it on its path and Emmy for hosting it.

"FUCK!" The door slammed after Chris.

"What's up?" Lance looked up from his computer.

Chris pushed away from the door, and began pacing with fitful tension. His hair was streaked with yellow. "I am going to kill him," he said grimly. "We'd better find another tenor, because he's not living out the night. Little bastard!"

Lance looked at him thoughtfully. Just when Chris felt like he might explode if Lance didn't say anything, Lance said, "We match."

"Fuck that, Bass. I have yellow hair. Fucking Infant. He dies tonight."

"Um, Chris. Don't take this wrong, but it takes time and effort to change hair color. You're telling me he did it without you knowing?"

"Peroxide. Peroxide in my fucking shampoo. You wanna hear the worst part? I was gonna use that on Joey and I told Justin about it. Fucker used my own gag against me."

"I'll start looking for a new tenor. Think Nick can be persuaded to join us?"

"Har Har. Maybe We'll talk to Kevin while we're at it. He looks better in a skirt then you ever will."

"And it's a bad thing that I don't look good in skirt?"

Chris wiggled his eyebrows, but didn't comment. "Dammit. My fucking hair"

"We can dye it back. And since the color's stripped, you can choose any color you want."

Chris perked up. "Any color?"

"Any color." Lance got up and began to rummage through his bag. "I have blue, green, orange, and purple here. If you want a different one, we'll have to get someone to get it for us."

"Lance. I don't even want to know why you have all those colors in your bag....actually, I do. What the hell?"

Lance shrugged. "Halloween is coming."

"And the golden child was gonna dye his hair? For what daring costume, pray tell? A ghost again?"

"Now that you've gone all sarcastic and shit, I'm not going to tell you.You'll just have to wait and see."

Chris made puppy dog eyes that put Busta to shame. "You can't keep secrets from me!"

"I'm immune, Kirkpatrick. Give it up."

"Please. I know your weakness."

Lance looked at him speculatively. "Really?"

Chris gave him an evil look. "Really."

"Prove it."

Chris wandered slowly to the other side of the room and looked out the window. Suddenly, he turned and screamed "TICKLE ATTACK," and pounced before Lance could defend himself.

Lance writhed on the floor, gasping for breath.

"NO MERCY" Chris shrieked, wiggling his fingers into Lance's ribs. "Now tell."

"Never," Lance sputtered, and flipped Chris on to his back, straddling him, and attacked his ribs.

"No fair!" Chris gasped. "I give, I give."

Lance drew his hands back and smirked. "Wimp."

Chris lay on his back catching his breath. "Fucker." Lance didn't move. "When did you get so fucking strong?"

Lance grinned. "So what color do you want your hair? And how are we going to get Justin back?"

"Now you're talking." Chris shifted beneath Lance, uncomfortable for a second. "You seem to know about colors and shit. What color would be the best?"

Lance settled himself more comfortably and stared at Chris' head critically. "I think purple."

Chris grinned. "Purple it is." But neither one moved.

"Yeah...purple....cause it's your favorite...and stuff."

"Yeah...my favorite." Lance's eyes flicked down to Chris' mouth then back up so quickly, Chris almost missed it.

"So, you know...I don't know the logistics of hair coloring really, but I think it might involve water, and stuff..." Chris said, making no obvious move to push Lance off him. He wated patiently.

Lance turned red and scrambled off Chris. "Water. Bathroom. Yes. Oh, God, I sound like JC!"

Chris hid a smile. "Come now, dahling. I vant you to color my hair and make it beautiful." Chris replied in a horrible European accent.

Lance dove into his bag, pulled out the box of purple dye, and headed for the bathroom. "Color it, yes, make you beautiful...that's a mighty tall order."

"Lance the joker. I thought that was my job in the group. Get your own."

Lance rolled his eyes, and forced Chris down on the toilet lid. He draped a towel over Chris' shoulders, opened the box and began mixing.

"One bigass perk to this life, it doesn't matter if we ruin the towels," Chris commented as he watched.

"True enough. We're badass musicians. Destroying hotel property and shit."

Chris wrinkled his nose. "God. That stuff reeks."

Lance shrugged. "You want me to do this or not? There's a million other things I could be doing, you know."

"So glad I rate, Bass."

"Don't be a pussy, Kirkpatrick."

"I'm not the one who squeals like a girl when he has his ribs grabbed. Now dye my freakin' hair already."

Lance grabbed Chris' chin to hold his head in place. "No, you squeal like a pig." From this position Chris was dangerously close to a part of Lance's anatomy he wasn't so sure he wanted to be near. Leaning back a bit he said "How long is this gonna take?"

"About 25 minutes," Lance replied, pouring the thick dye onto Chris' head. "Now sit still, fidget-boy, or this is gonna get all over your face."

"Tell me a story."

"No."

"Then help me plot revenge?"

"You're the expert at this, remember? I'm Mr. Innocent," Lance replied, not without a touch of bitterness.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Justin. That's easy. Find something to tarnish Justin's adorable good looks. That would be funny. Shave his eyebrows off or something."

"Sounds fine with me."

"Or maybe his curls..."

"Thousands of screaming teenies would be out for your blood. Not to mention one pop princess."

"The curls it is."

"You are a far braver man than I, Kirkpatrick."

"True enough. I am the king of brave." He dodged Lance's swat.

"You're done. Go sit in there for 20 minutes. Then you can take a shower and get all the color out."

"What am I supposed to do for 20 minutes? You're supposed to entertain me," Chris whined.

"I have work to do, Chris."

"What's more important, or more important, what's more fun, me or work?"

"You actually have to ask me that? FreeLance is everything, man."

Chris headbutted Lance's stomach.

"Shit, man. Now my shirt is all purple. This crap stains!"

Chris grabbed a towel and tried to blot off the dye. He could feel Lance's stomach tense at the contact. Damn. When did he get abs of steel?

"I...I can do that." Lance tried to grab the towel from Chris.

Chris held on, unwilling to lose his excuse to keep touching Lance. He batted at Lance's hand. Lance let his hand drop to his side as Chris continued to stroke his stomach.

"Working out with Jup, huh?"

Lance blushed. "No, mostly by myself."

"Looks good on you, Bass." Chris blinked and cleared his throat.

"Thanks." Chris knew Lance's voice was deep, but he'd never heard it quite that low and husky before. Porn voice.

"What?" Lance asked quietly. Chris was looking at him too closely.

Chris stood up abruptly so they were eye to eye. "What do you think?" he murmured, his breath ghosting over Lance's lips.

"I think..."

Chris didn't allow him to finish his sentence, pressing his lips to Lance's softly but insistently.

Lance immediately opened his mouth to Chris, leaning into the kiss with the weight of months of desire.

Chris drew back slightly, gasping for breath. "You...you're...good at that." Lance smiled and reached around to pull Chris in closer. He got a handful of purple dye. "Shit!"

Shock and then hurt chased across Chris' face.

"Not that, stupid." Lance kissed him fast. "This." He waved his purple hand in front of Chris.

Chris laughed in relief, which mutated into a cackle. "I think you need a shower, Bass."

The following morning, Chris' new 'do met with approval from the rest of the guys. If they noticed the purple streaks on Lance's cheek, for once they restrained from commenting. And when Lance and Joey sat on Justin while Chris shaved his head, Justin only smiled a small baffled smile when Lance whispered,

"Thanks."

~end~.




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