"I'm not dealing with this again." Johnny glared at the five sullen-faced men in front of him. "It took some tricky PR work to cover up Britney's little swearing fiasco in Brazil - and it *still* got onto the internet. He sighed. "Look guys - I'm sorry, but right now we can't risk it."

"What the big deal?" asked Justin, defensively. "It's just a few cuss words."

"The big deal is that most parents don't like their underage daughters exposed to this stuff. I know you guys. You're worse than sailors. Clean it up. I'll leave it to you to figure out how."

Johnny stalked out of the room. The guys sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Fuck," said JC, and then remembered to look apologetic. "This is just great. Cleaning up our language is gonna be some fun."

"I don't get it," Joey said. "It's not like we ever swear in public."

"Except for that Teen People interview," Chris pointed out.

"And that behind-the-scenes Christmas greeting that somehow made it onto the internet," Lance added.

"Well, the Teen People stuff we knew couldn't be printed, and the stuff that made it on the internet was a gag. It was never supposed to be seen by anyone. I think Johnny's overreacting," Joey justified.

"Whatever," replied JC dismissively. "The point is, we'd better fix it or we'll have a majorly pissy manager on our hands."

"Kiss-ass," Lance said quietly.

"Well, there was this thing we used to do sometimes at church camp..." said Justin.

"Fucking church camp?" Chris laughed.

Joey sniggered.

"And this one time...at church camp..." JC giggled.

"Shut the fuck up, JC." Justin glared. "I'm trying to fix this 'problem'. So, basically we used to have this big swear jar. And if you swore you had to put twenty-five cents in."

"Oh, I get it." Chris nodded wisely. "It was your girlfriend who got us into this mess, so you feel like you have to clean up after her."

"I swear to fucking God, Chris, you asshole. Leave Brit out of this."

"You owe the jar fifty cents, Justin," said Lance, amused.

"Woo. Fifty whole cents. That may just break the bank," snarked Joey.

Chris cackled.

"Shut up," JC said. "Look, I think J has a pretty good idea. But obviously, 25 cents means crap to us. So it's gotta be higher."

"A hundred bucks, then?" asked Lance.

Chris shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you morons are taking this seriously."

"What other choice to we have, Chris? You have any bright ideas?"

"I don't think we need to stop swearing at all. If we just lay low for a while, Johnny will forget, and all this crap will blow over. I'm fucking thirty years old. I should be able to talk however the hell I want."

Lance sighed. "Look, Chris. This isn't anybody's idea of a good time. But remember what happened when we promised to clean up our little drunken escapades after the MTV Spring Break fiasco? And we didn't? He grilled our asses for months. It's not worth it."

"As much as I agree with you, Chris, I think Lance may be right on this," Joey admitted.

"You always take his side," Chris whined. Then he coughed pussywhipped.

Joey leaned across the table and punched Chris in the arm.

Justin sniggered. "You think that's the right word, Chris? Lance hasn't been a pussy since somewhere back in '99. Hasn't seen any since then, either."

"Fuck you, Justin."

"You wish, Lance."

"Enough," said JC, his temples beginning to throb. "Here's how it's gonna be. We each have a jar. I say each time we swear, it's 500 bucks. At the end of each week we see who has the least amount of money - and they take the lot. Make sense?"

"Is pussy a swear word?" asked Joey.

"No," Chris replied, just as Lance said, "Yes."

"So how do we decide what counts as a curse?" Joey said.

"Anything that you wouldn't say in front of your mother," said Lance. Then looked at Joey and Chris. "Okay, anything you wouldn't say in front of my mother."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Just what are you saying about my mother, Lance?"

Chris watched Lance grope around for the right words for a minute before letting him off the hook. "I'm just joking, Bass. I know you wouldn't diss my mom. Or Joey's."

Lance relaxed. "Okay. I think JC has got it. Let's just get the jars and try to start this crap."

JC looked at Lance.

"I...okay, no crap in front of mom. I lose."

Joey looked around. "Let me get this straight. Every time we swear, we have to put a hundred bucks in the jar. We're on the honor system, and at the end of the week, the person with the least in his jar gets to take everyone else's money?"

Chris nodded. "Fine."

"Five hundred," said Justin. "And yeah. But I think we have to monitor each other too," he added, eyeing Chris.

"What?! I'm trustworthy. In fact, I'm so trustworthy, I propose the winner doesn't get to keep the money. The winner gets to choose the charity that that week's money goes to."

"I like that," said JC. "That's a terrific idea, Chris. We all agreed?"

"Sure," replied Lance.

Justin added "yeah."

"Works for me," said Joey.

"Me, too," Chris said. "Okay, the fun and games starts now. But where do we get some biga-- really big jars?"

Chris closed his computer and rubbed his eyes under his glasses before announcing, "I'm finally fu - freaking finished with FuMan, Justin. You ready to get your tushie kicked at PlayStation?"

"Tushie?" Justin giggled.

"Tushie," replied Chris firmly. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Get your tushie over here and I'll prove it."

"You are such a moron, dude," Chris said, then glanced quickly at Lance who was sprawled on the couch of the lounge reading a magazine. "Dude, moron's allowed, right?"

"Yeah, no penalty for that."

An hour later Justin paused the game to get snacks. Chris casually followed him out. After a moment, Lance finished his article and got up to use the bathroom. He stopped outside Chris' bunk. The curtain was closed. The curtain was never, ever closed. Then he heard it.

"Fuckityfuckfuckmotherfucker. How can I be expected to kick the Infant's lameass ass if I'm not fucking allowed to swear. GoddamnassfaceshitheadmotherfuckingJohnny sucks!"

Lance managed to suppress laughter. He knocked on the side of Chris' bunk. "That'll be 4500 bucks into the jar, Chris. Well, done."

"That is not any money in the jar. I wasn't talking to anyone. I was hiding. It DOES NOT count!" Chris' face was red, but his tone was adamant.

"It counts. I heard you. Chris, it's been like 3 days and there's already about $10,000 dollars in your jar. We're going to have to get you another one. You really suck at this."

"Lance," Chris said patiently, "I know I suck at this. You're just being mean. But the point here is that Johnny doesn't want us to swear in public. In the privacy of my own bunk with the curtain closed I'm not in public. In fact, the chance of anything that's said here getting on the internet or anywhere else is nonexistent. Therefore, it doesn't count."

Lance sighed. "Fine. I'm just saying, if you can't cut it out in private it's going to be hard to get used to doing it all the time and you'll get caught out in public. But whatever, man."

"I have cut it out in private with you guys. At least I'm trying. When I'm all alone, though, I should be able to say whatever I want. I'm almost 30 years old, dude. I think I've earned the right."

"Sure, whatever," replied Lance. He rolled his eyes as he heard a very loud "Fiddlesticks!" coming from JC who had just shut his finger in a drawer. "Lord. He's annoying when he doesn't swear."

"Did he just say fiddlesticks? Oh my god!" Chris bounced out of his bunk, nearly knocking Lance over, and hit the kitchen at full speed, skidding to a stop next to JC. He pulled JC's finger out of his mouth and shoved it under the faucet, turning on the cold water.

"Fiddlesticks?!?! Fiddlesticks?!?! Oh my god, you guys, we have our very own Mary Poppins!" Chris howled.

JC looked indignant, pulled his hand out of Chris', and sucked on his sore finger. "Shut up, Chris. I'm trying, okay. Besides, it's working," he said, pointing to the jars Justin had lined up on the counter. JC's only had a few bills in there. Chris' was close to full.

"Just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down..." Chris' English accent was lousy.

Joey flopped down on the couch next to Lance, who was tapping away at his laptop. He sighed loudly.

"What's up Joe?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Spit it out, Joey"

"It's this whole swearing thing. How did you stop doing it so easy?"

"I just needed something to focus on, Joey. It's easy. Like...when I feel like swearing I think of my mom's face and I don't."

"Yeah, I can see how that would stop you. But see, I don't even necessarily feel like swearing. It's just part of the way I talk."

"Well, let's think Joey. Maybe...Brianna. How you would feel if you heard her talking like you do? I mean, she's going to start picking up words she hears soon, Joe. Maybe think about that....it might help."

"You know, you're right. I really don't want her talking like I do."

Lance smiled. "There you go, then. It's all about Brianna."

"Well, I'll give it a shot. You'll help me?"

"Sure, man. Anything."

"Thanks, man. You can get back to work now. I'm good." Joey swung around, put his feet in Lance's lap, tucked a pillow under his head and settled in for a nap.

JC wandered into the tiny kitchen of the bus one morning, yawning and idly scratching his belly. Making his way over to the fridge, he accidentally slammed his toes into the corner of the nearby table. "Ah! Fu--Fudge! Owie! Owie! Fudge!!!"

Chris stumbled in, a handful of bills crumpled in his hand. "Why are you shouting? You woke me up."

JC continued to hop around. "Just...Owie, Chris. Fiddle Dee Dee."

"You hurt your foot?"

JC pouted. "Uh huh...just...Yowza."

Chris grabbed him by the shoulders to make him stop hopping around. "Look dickweed, just fucking swear already. This fiddle dee dee crap just isn't going to cut it. Besides which, it's driving me crazy, which is no small task." He shoved the money into JC's hand. "Look, it's on me, okay?" Then he grabbed back a small handful, counted out $1000 and shoved it in his own jar.

JC looked at Chris gratefully. "My fucking foot Chris. Christ, that fucking hurt. And you know what? I'm sick and goddamned tired of this. You know what I did yesterday? I opened the fridge and said 'Oh farfegnugen! Someone has drank all my juice.' FUCK Chris, but if I'm not annoying myself!!"

"Farfegnugen? Oh my god, JC, it's worse than I thought." He dug around in his pocket and came up with a few more bills. "I have to stop at a bank today anyway. You need this more than I do."

JC threw his arms around Chris. "Thank you!!" Then he turned around and yelled, "Justin! If you fucking drink all of my fucking juice again I'm gonna come in there and rip your balls off!!!" He grinned. "Much better."

"Glad I could help. Now can I please go back to bed without fear of being woken up by more ridiculous, annoying, pathetic attempts at not swearing?"

JC giggled. "Get the fuck out of here, Chris," and then dropped the bills into his jar.

Justin took the freaking longest showers ever. JC had just about had enough waiting after almost 40 minutes. It's not like the bus had much water at a time anyway. They had about 2 hours until sound check and JC wanted to get ready. Mumbling under his breath, he opened the door to the tiny bathroom, and wiping the mist off the mirror, reached for his razor. After a few moments, he heard it.

"Fuck fuck shit ass damn motherfucker."

JC whipped his head around and nicked himself in the chin. "Oh pooh," he whispered, then rolled his eyes at himself. He listened again carefully.

"Shitty fuck bitch ass fuck shit."

"J? What the heck?" then he laughed.

"Shit! What the fuck are you doing in here, Jayce? You scared the crap out of me. I could have fallen and broken a leg or something."

JC stood looking amused. "So that's how you're doing it. I wondered why your jar was so empty."

"It doesn't count if no one's around to hear. And since you weren't supposed to be around, it doesn't count."

"Yeah right, Infant. I heard you, J. Cough it up."

"Well, I don't exactly keep my wallet in the shower with me."

"Well, I can do it for you if you want. Let me think...this shower must have coast you at least six thousand dollars. I'll go get it for you!"

"NO! WAIT!" Justin lunged out of the shower and grabbed at the back of JC's shirt, dripping all over it.

"Ack! You weenie! You got me all wet!" And with that, JC ran from the bathroom to find Justin's wallet.

Justin snagged a towel and chased after JC. "Stop you fool! Stay away from my stuff!"

JC's high-pitched giggle could be heard down the corridor.

When Lance won the pot for the second week in a row, bringing the total donated to Challenge for the Children to $40,000, the majority of it from Chris, Chris decided he hated Lance. And that his life's mission would be to torture and otherwise drive Lance crazy.

The first step of his plan was to get another $20,000 in $500 denominations. It took him a week to do that. Then he made sure to challenge Justin to PlayStation when Lance was on their bus.

"Justin, dude, prepare to have your buns royally roasted in the NFL!"

Lance looked up from his seat on the couch where he was reading his "Business for Dummies" book that Justin had given him as a joke for Christmas. It actually wasn't a bad read. "Chris, don't you ever get sick of PlayStation?" he asked as Justin wandered into the room and flopped down on the floor.

"Nope. And since you're here, man, this is for you." Chris handed Lance a large manila envelope. He ran into the kitchen and came back with his swear jar. He shoved that at Lance, too. "Keep track for me."

"Oh for Pete's sake, Chris. You could at least try"

"Why?"

"For those children? It was your silly idea in the first place."

"The Children benefit the more I swear, dumbass."

"Not if they catch you sounding like a hockey player after a big fight. Stop acting like such a brat."

"Chris, are we gonna play or what?" asked Justin.

"Lance, when was the last time I swore in public? And yes, Justin, prepare to go down just as soon as Mr. Goody Two-Shoes over here agrees to keep track of my language. You know, I bet he was teacher's pet in school."

Lance looked annoyed. "You know, Chris, you're just..." then a sly smile broke out on his face "...just a big weiner," he finished, imitating JC.

"No, assface, I think you mean I have a big weiner."

Lance gave Chris a lewd once-over and said, "Nah. Seen it. Nothing to write home about."

"You are the biggest, meanest fucker ever. And I could make you scream, then beg for more. By the time I was done, you'd be nothing but a big old puddle of Southern goo, praying to God for another round."

Lance cocked his head to once side and gave Chris his snarkiest fake smile. Then he opened Chris' jar and put $500 in it. "Happy now?"

"About goddamned time, shithead. Thank you. Justin, it's time to meet your Maker."

Lance put the jar down beside Justin and said, "It's up to you, Jup. I don't have time for this childishness. See you later, Chris dahling." He left the room.

"What a loser," Chris laughed. He called after Lance, "You suck, baby!" Then he turned back to Justin. "Mark my words. I'm going to make him lose it if it's the last thing I do."

As it turned out, breaking Lance was easier said than done. It didn't work when Chris "accidentally" pushed Lance into a doorframe. Lance merely said 'ouch' and went on his way. It didn't work when Chris tickled him to the floor panting and screaming for mercy. It didn't work when Chris let Dirk out of his cage and let him pee all over Lance's clean, neatly folded laundry.

Chris was starting to get annoyed.

Chris was minding his own business one afternoon, reading a magazine while he ate a sandwich, when JC sat beside him and stared at him purposefully. Chris hated it when JC did that.

"Chris," said JC pointedly.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing, at the moment. You offering?" Chris leered.

JC blushed but smiled. "I meant, what's up with you and Lance. I mean, I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but I have."

"Noticed what?"

Well, for one thing that it's the third week into our little non-swearing party. The rest of us have practically empty jars, and yet yours is still full."

"So?"

"So, why is it that I haven't heard you swear in almost two weeks? Unless you're around Lance?"

"Oh, that."

JC stared at Chris for a moment, hoping he'd explain. When it looked like he wasn't planning to, JC sighed. "Oh that what Chris? I mean, I admit Lance has been a real pain in the patootie over this whole thing, the swear jar nazi, if you will, but c'mon, what's the point??"

Chris burst out laughing. "The swear jar nazi! That's just too perfect. And I'll tell you the point. The point is I just can't take his smug fascist grin. I know it pisses him off when I swear, so I just have to. Plus, I will get him to break. He's been too much of a dick for me to give up now. And I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say patootie, Rosie."

JC shook his head, amused. "You crack me up, Chris. And yeah, the smugness is a little annoying. But want me to tell you the secret of getting that little smug grin to go away?"

"I will worship you forever, Jayce."

JC leaned in and whispered into Chris' ear. "The secret...is to not swear around him. Then he has no reason to be smug."

"Forget that! I thought you actually had something good."

JC giggled.

Joey propelled Chris, who was clutching his swear jar, towards Lance's and his bus. "You know why, man. Justin and JC are creating and they'll drive you crazy."

"I know," grumbled Chris. "But they're kind of fun to tick off when they're like that."

"Do you really want two more of us pi- frustrated with you? Are you aiming for some goal of getting all of us annoyed?"

"I always annoy all of you, Joe."

"Point taken," conceded Joey. "And speaking of annoying," he followed Chris up the steps of the bus and into the lounge area where Lance was typing away at his laptop, "it's time the two of you stop annoying each other and work this out. Frankly, you're driving the rest of us batty and it has to stop before 'Nsync' becomes 'syn'. Okay, not that. Try Nsy."

"What in the heck are you talking about, Joey?" Lance asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, Bass. We're sick of you and Chris and the swearing and the smugness. We'll be at our hotel in about four hours. By the time we get there, we expect you guys to have this ironed out." And Joey stomped off the bus. The doors whooshed closed behind him and the bus lurched into gear before Chris or Lance had a chance to react.

"Well, that was subtle," Chris mumbled.

"Just great. Nice job, Chris."

"What did I do? No way you can lay this one only on me."

"What have I done? I stuck to the stupid rules. You, on the other hand, haven't."

"You stuck to the rules? With the way you've been so modest about it, I barely noticed."

"Excuse me? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

Chris sat down on the couch wearily. "You're a bright guy, Scoop. You know exactly what that means."

"Look, just cause you're ticked off that I did better than you...."

Chris snorted. "Don't even try to tell me you think that's what this is about. If you really do, I take back the part about being a bright guy."

"For Pete's sake Chris, just get out of my face for awhile, okay?"

"Just who exactly is Pete? I mean, why do we care about his sake?"

"You're so darn annoying." Lance moved to get off the couch.

Chris was up and straddling Lance, pinning him to the couch. "Don't go, Lance. I was just trying to lighten the mood. C'mon, stay."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll stay." He couldn't hide a smile. "Freak."

"You love me."

"Yeah, something like that." Lance's cell phone chirped. "Get off me, Chris. I gotta take this."

"No, no, and no. You don't have to take it. What you do have to do is finish this conversation with me. Me, not FreeLance or any other business. Me, me, me."

Lance shoved Chris to the floor and answered the phone. "Lance Bass..."

Chris stood up, brushed the imaginary dirt from his pants, and grabbed the phone out of Lance's hand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bass is in the middle of a very important meeting and will have to call you back." And with a snap, he closed the phone, turned off the power and slid it into his pocket.

"Chris!! What the heck?"

"Well, I thought I said this before. Right now, the most important thing is for you and I finish our conversation. You didn't seem to believe me, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Now, where were we?" Chris climbed back onto Lance and settled down. "Here, I think."

"Chris. What do you want? I mean, is this all just to get me to swear? You've heard me swear a million times before. Why do you care?"

"It's not really that I want you to swear to hear you swear, as much as you're being so darn smug about your ability to shut it off. Everyone else quit swearing too, but they weren't all righteous about it and that was cool. But you, not so much."

"I wasn't righteous!" replied Lance, starting to get angry. "How was I righteous?"

"Calm down. I'm not trying to upset you. It's just, I don't know, you acted all holier-than-thou when you kept winning. It was annoying, and you know how I get when I'm irked."

"Annoying?"

"You're such a comedian, Bass."

Lance smiled. "Look Chris. I'm tired of fighting with you. So, what exactly do you want?"

"How about this? I'll stop swearing for a week if you stop checking your email and let me screen your cell phone calls. We miss having you with us. Your body's here, but your mind usually isn't anymore. Stop being Mr. Hollywood, just for a week, and hang with us. We're fun. And the chicks dig us."

"Stop taking calls? Chris, in case you didn't know...I have two companies to run on top of being NSync. I need to keep in contact with people."

"The people you need to keep in contact with are the three Js and me. I'll answer your phone and let you have the crucial ones. You know you want to do this. Don't be such a crude word that also means cat."

Lance looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well...if it'll stop you swearing...I'm in."

Chris rubbed his hands together. "Perfect! Now what do I get when you break?"

"Excuse me? Who says I'm gonna break?"

"A week without email? I know my little Lansten and you will break. So what will I get?"

"Okay, here's the deal. If you break, you put $5000 in everyone's jars and I get to choose the charity it goes to. If I break, and I won't...I'll do whatever you ask me to do for an entire week. Sound fair?"

"Sounds fair." Chris held out his hand to shake.

"Deal. Now get off me. You're not as light as you look."

"Lance's phone o' porn...how may I service you?"

Lance just glared.

The phone was ringing and Chris couldn't find it. He finally unearthed it from the bottom of his bag, but couldn't hear who was at the other end because Justin, Joey and JC were screaming at each other over who ate the last pastry.

"Just a second," he shouted into the phone. "I can't hear you."

Halfway down the hall from the Toy Room he ducked into an empty bathroom. "Sorry about that."

He listened for a moment. "Hi, Diane. Yep. After 5 days I can finally answer his phone without scaring whoever's at the other end. I think he likes not having to wade through all the crud he's expected to deal with even when it's not his job."

"Yeah, well, it's good to know I can always be a secretary at FreeLance or A Happy Place if this gig ever falls through. Everyone needs a back-up plan."

As he listened to Diane, Chris realized he wasn't alone in the bathroom. From the farthest stall around the divider wall he could hear the clacking of computer keys.

"I'm not sure where he is right now, but I'll have him call you before we go on."

Chris closed the phone and tiptoed around the corner. He silently entered the stall at the end, climbed on the divider wall, and crept over to the stall from which the noise was coming.

"BUSTED!" he howled from above Lance, who was crouched over his laptop typing frantically.

Lance looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his bright green eyes almost popping out of his head. "Chris! No...you don't understand...Meredith, remember? She called... um... yesterday, and I needed to get this stuff to her like ASAP."

"Hah! I don't care about the reason why you're emailing. You are now my slave!" He hopped off the wall into the stall and ran out of the bathroom singing at the top of his lungs, "I am the champion, my friend!"

"NO! Chris, no. That's not fair."

Chris danced into the Toy Room, Lance at his heels. "Lance broke! Lance broke! He was doing the nasty email in the bathroom. He's now my slave!"

"Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?" asked JC from across the room.

"Just...shut up, Jayce. Lord help me", groaned Lance.

Being Chris' slave stopped being funny and got annoying around the time Chris made Lance wear his stupid, ugly ski hat out to a club one night, stand on a table and sing 'Copacabana' in front of everybody. It was even less funny when Chris dragged Lance over from his bus onto the other and woke JC up by singing "Wake Up, Little Suzy" complete with Bobblehead puppet dance.

Justin completely had enough when Lance appeared on the bus being forced to say "Chris is my lord and master" for an entire evening's game of poker.

"That's it, Chris. Cripes, you're so juvenile. Joey, you're moving over here until these two lameasses can get over this stupid bet."

"That's $500 in your jar," Chris pointed out helpfully. "You're just jealous I'm kicking tail at the table tonight."

Justin pouted. "Lance, I can say 'lameasses' right? You're mom would be okay with that."

"Chris is my lord and master," Lance replied.

"OUT!"

"C'mon, Lance. I've won everyone's money anyway. Let's go to the fun bus away from these sourpusses."

"Chris is my...yeah, fine."

"Lance?"

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

Lance sighed and dropped onto the couch. "No."

"Did I take things too far? I'm sorry if I did, but you gotta admit, it was worth it to see Justin get all red and blotchy when he screamed."

"You made me sing 'Copacabana,' you freak."

"I guess that was a bit unnecessary, but I never get to hear your voice alone. It's always in harmony. So..." Chris sat down next to Lance and put his head in Lance's lap.

"So...you decided to embarrass me forever...good call." Lance touched Chris' hair and smiled. "You know...it was worth it to see Justin get all pissy."

"Hah! I knew you were getting as much a kick out of that as I was. You know you love me! I make your otherwise boring Mr. Hollywood life all fun. Plus, I'm a darn good phone screener."

Lance nodded. "That you are. Except for scarring my grandmother for life, you did okay."

"Yeah, I'm really, really, really sorry about that."

"Not as sorry as she is, I'm sure. Took me forever to convince her she hadn't called a crack house."

"Please note that I never answered the phone that way again. I'm not as dumb as I look. I learn from my mistakes."

"Is that a fact?"

"It is. You know there's one really huge mistake I made that I've been wanting to fix."

"What's that? And Chris, honestly, if it involves me swearing, I don't wanna know about it."

"Only sort of. It's just there was a much better way to get you to stop being so smug. And I missed it.

"You tried eveything, Chris. Just...give up. You got me, okay?"

"You're wrong. There was one more thing I could have done. And I'm kicking myself for not realizing it sooner." Chris sat up and kissed Lance on the mouth. He slid his hands under Lance's shirt and softly touched the muscles there. He leaned back and surveyed Lance with a critical eye. "Yep. It works. It keeps you from being so smug. Stunned is a much better look on you."

"I...Chris...what?"

"You need me to do it again so you get it?"

"I think...maybe...yeah...yeah."

Chris met Lance's eyes and gave him a lazy smile. He pulled down Lance's zipper and stripped him of his pants and boxers. Lance's breath hitched, and Chris gave him one final look of satisfaction before lowering his mouth.

"HOLY MOTHERFUCKING GOD!!"

~end~