JC smothers a laugh.  Chris gives a whole new meaning to the
expression 'puppy dog eyes'.

The other man has done his best to be good.  Sleeping at the end of
the bed without complaint, only snapping at JC once so far when JC
had had to curb him for 'barking', and -- for the most part --
staying off of the furniture.  It's the last that Chris has had the
hardest time doing, mostly due to ingrained habits, JC knows.  It's
natural for Chris to flop down on the couch and turn on the TV. 
And just as natural now for him to get cuffed for that.

JC expects Chris' behavior to get much better -- but it's probably
time to reward Chris for trying -- before Chris realizes that he
can get the attention he wants by misbehaving instead.  Not that JC
is going to let Chris get off from that -- but either way, Chris
would get his needs met.  And JC knows that Chris does need this. 
Or proud, independent Chris wouldn't be on his knees in front of
the couch right now, hands raised to his chest, begging as prettily
as anyone could ask.

JC pretends to look disapproving.  "Well, I don't know.  You
haven't exactly been *good*..."

Chris's mouth droops a little.

"But I suppose since you're trying so hard, you deserve a little
something.  After lunch, this afternoon.  We'll play then."

Chris's eyes sparkle.  "Thank you!"

JC leans forward and kisses him softly.  "You're welcome.  Now be
a good Chris and lie down."

Chris sprawls out on the floor.  JC lies down on the couch above
him, head on Lance's thigh and idly scratches Chris's stomach.

"So," JC says to Lance, who's been sitting there all the while. 
"Do you want to help out this afternoon?  You don't have to, of
course."

Lance shrugs.  He's studiously watching birds out the window.  JC
and Chris are working, and he's happy.  But JC's breaking all the
rules Chris laid out when he started dating Lance.  JC hits Chris,
and that's the one Lance can't get over.  It's an enigma and he
simply can't puzzle through it.  As much as he almost likes some of
the things they do -- being with JC and Chris isn't exactly a
hardship -- there's a part of Lance's mind that can't move beyond
the mundane things.

JC rolls over on his back and looks up at Lance.  "How're you,
honey?"

"Not too bad," Lance answers brightly.  He glances down long enough
to pet JC's hair back without poking him in the eye.

JC frowns when Lance immediately averts his gaze again.  "Am I
doing something that makes you uncomfortable?"

"You're not.  I just can't wrap my brain around the whole thing."

"Which thing?"  JC hasn't had sex with Lance yet -- or Chris, for
that matter -- but he cuddles around Lance every night and he pets
Chris frequently.

"That Chris's rules are so different for you.  It makes me angry,
and anger will not help."

"Do you want me to explain?"

"You explaining why Chris is willing to let you do things he
wouldn't let me isn't exactly... what I want to know.  Do you think
your explanation would answer the question?"

JC is happy that Lance is even willing to talk to him.  Lance has
a tendency to be close-mouthed when it comes to things that bother
him, especially of late.  "I'll explain anything you want me to."

"Why will he let you hit him when he told me that if I so much as
raised a hand *at* him any kind of violently, he'd leave me?"

JC scrunches up his forehead.  "I don't know.  That's a good
question.  Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Kneel up, Chris.  Why did the idea of Lance hitting you bother
you, but me hitting you doesn't?"

Chris rests his arms on JC's chest, casually familiar.  "Because
Lance was talking about spanking me.  And you can't see someone
hitting you when they're spanking you.  You usually warn me that
I've done something, so I know it's coming.  Plus, no offense C,
you hit like a girl.  It's like a reminder, not anything that's
gonna hurt me."

JC ruffles Chris's hair.  "Thanks, Chris."  He looks back up at
Lance.  "Does that answer your question?"

"No, actually.  Because Chris was hung up on me hitting him before
we even talked about anything else.  I suggested spanking as an
alternative to the casual cuffing you do, and he *still* couldn't
handle the thought."

Chris coughs, signalling that he wants to jump into the
conversation.  JC ignores him.  "I'm not sure it's something you
can suggest.  I think you have to at least try it.  Because you
know as well as I do that at least some kind of physical component
is required when someone wants to be a pet."

"Yeah, well.  He didn't wanna be a pet when he showed up."

Chris coughs again.  JC doesn't look down.  "Chris, you need to be
quiet now.  If we need to know something, we'll ask.  If you can't
be quiet, I'll muzzle you."  Chris absolutely hates the muzzle, JC
knows.  It makes the punishment very effective.  JC looks up at
Lance.  "Did you two define terms before you started?  What you
each wanted to get out of it and so forth?  It's very easy to make
the wrong assumptions.  I wouldn't be doing nearly so well if you
hadn't helped me by finding out."

"Yeah, no.  We skipped that part.  I assumed him saying 'sub' meant
my definition thereof."  Lance feels like a total failure all over
again.  "I just wonder why the hitting thing has changed.  He was
so against it, psychologically speaking."

"Maybe you helped with that, too," JC suggests.  "I think trying
and failing with you laid the groundwork so Chris knew what he was
actually asking for.  It's like, before you, he thought he could
just approach anyone and they'd know what he wanted and do it for
him."

Lance shakes his head and lifts his hands to rub his eyes.  "Sure,"
he says tiredly.  "And it'll work out, in the end."  He sighs and
drops his hands.  "You want to lay back down?" he offers.

JC curls around Lance.  "No.  I'm fine if you are."  He kisses
Lance's cheek.

Lance kisses JC's forehead and lets JC's curls tickle his cheek.

JC thinks loving thoughts and hopes that they get through to Lance. 
In the back of his mind, a plan is developing for when Lance is
more comfortable.

****

After lunch, JC sends Chris up to the bedroom and tells him to get
naked and wait there.  Then he goes to sit with Lance.

Settling down cross-legged next to Lance, JC lays his head on
Lance's shoulder.  "I can keep him upstairs if you want."

"No.  He's not an animal to be confined because I'm confused by
him."

"I meant while I reward him.  I know it bothers you to see me with
him."

"It doesn't bother me to see you with him, or see him with you,"
Lance says honestly.  "It bothers me to realize how badly I failed,
and I know that all the time, whether you're here or not."

"How did you fail him?  He isn't hurting or afraid or scarred. 
That's what's important."

"Yeah."

"I think maybe Chris failed you, baby."

"It was my job to make sure he couldn't fail me."

"Was it?  I've always thought that both people, sub and dom, master
and pet, top and bottom, had something to give and that both people
had to give that.  From what you've said, it seems like Chris
didn't do that.  And that's not your fault."

Lance's lips quirk.  "It's always my job.  I don't understand it
any other way."

"I know you don't, baby.  That's why I won't top you anymore.  I
love you, but it wouldn't be healthy for you."

Lance shakes his head and looks away.  "How am I supposed to *fit*
here, then?"

"Be my love," JC says simply.  "Be Chris's friend."

"I can't be your love if you won't love me!" Lance says, standing
and pacing.  "I don't want to be *loved*.  I want to stop hurting,
and I can't.  And if you're not going to top me, you're just... I'm
just here for a -- a convenience.  A toy.  An... inflatable
boyfriend.  You could cuddle with a fucking couch cushion.  I
displaced your body pillow?  What!?"

"You're not a toy or a convenience.  And I do love you."

"I know you do.  Like a friend, or a relative, only
non-incestuously.  I know."

JC sits up.  "You think I don't care about you?"

"I think you care about me a lot, C.  I even think you love me.  I
love you, too.  But it's not the kind of love I... crave.  I
suppose.  I don't need it.  I don't particularly want it, right
now, what with the heart tearing out and all."

JC stands up.  He folds his arms around himself.  "You're right. 
I don't know what you need.  But you're wrong if you think I don't
love you every way possible."

"JC..."  Lance walks over to JC and hugs him.  "I love you, too. 
I wish I didn't, because I hurt right now.  Really bad.  But I do
love you, C."  He kisses JC's closed mouth lightly.  "I love you."

JC leans into Lance.  "Stay until you get better?"

"Yes.  I suppose I will."  Lance wonders how he's supposed to get
all his hurt to the outside without someone to hurt him.  And that
thought leads him to Chris.  "You should get up there," he offers.

"I will."

"Okay."  Lance drops his arms and steps back so JC has room.

JC kisses Lance.  "I promised Chris this so I can't let him down. 
But you have as much or more right to my attention."

"I know, I know."  Lance waves his hand.  "I'll be fine.  Go."

****

Chris is curled up naked on his futon when JC comes in.  It's the
most exposed he's been since he got here.  So far, for all the play
and JC's rules, he's always been clothed.  Nothing's been overtly
sexual.  Until now.

He feels exposed and vulnerable, lying there, practically on the
floor.  The restriction from furniture does that as much as the
nudity.  Every minute of the day, that restriction reinforces that
he isn't *allowed* to do things, that his status is lower.

It's left him aching for this.  Horny whenever JC touches him,
horny when he's lying in front of the couch and JC idly runs his
hand over him.  Just plain horny.

Right now, though, he's terrified out of his mind of what might
happen next.  It's a good kind of terror though, a sexy kind of
terror.  Anticipation and excitement and dread all merging together
to make him hotter and his breathing shorter, his hearing
sensitized to catch JC's footfalls on the carpeted stairs.

JC's rules mean that JC can do anything to him, and Chris can't
stop it, except by leaving.  Can't protest, can't ask questions.

That's hot, too -- but Chris would never have agreed to it if Lance
wasn't there.  If JC hadn't thrown in the part about him being able
to go to Lance about problems and questions, Chris would never have
been able to be lying here, curled around his stiff dick, because
Chris can't do this, can't not question, can't obey--

JC opens the door.  Breath coming in short pants, Chris watches
JC's feet as JC passes by him toward the closet.  He's out of sight
for a few minutes, then JC is back, kneeling down in front of Chris
with a coil of leather in his hands.

JC snaps the leash on Chris's collar, and says, "Today, your
training begins."

****

Chris doesn't crawl down the stairs 'cause it'd be too hard on his
knees, but he's got a big smile on his face, and he lies down on
the floor in front of Lance, curling around Lance's feet.  "Hi."

"Hi," Lance says.  He looks down at Chris and wishes, not for the
first time, that he could have Chris up here in his lap again.

Chris mock-bites at Lance's calf.  "So.  I just got off on this
weird lifestyle and I'm kinda sane for a moment."

"You're always sane," Lance says, gently moving Chris away.  He
doesn't want Chris breaking JC's rules.

"No.  Not always.  I've been so turned on since we got here that I
couldn't think and jerking off didn't help at all.  But I can think
now.  About stuff."  Chris looks up at Lance.  "I need to ask you
some stuff.  Unless you're pushing me away.  'Cause if you are, I'm
gonna go upstairs and huddle in my doggy bed and pretend
everything's okay."

"Why are you laying another guilt trip on me?" Lance asks tiredly. 
Chris makes those puppy eyes and Lance waves his hand.  "What's
your question?"

Chris had been perfectly serious, but then, Lance has always
misunderstood him as far as he can tell.  "Stuff.  Like, I wanna
touch you.  I wanna curl up with you and cuddle, but I'm not
allowed on the couch.  And it's not a guilt trip.  If I couldn't
ask you this stuff, I wouldn't even be here.  I have to ask.  If I
can't ask you..."

"You haven't started thinking before you speak.  Good to know some
things don't change," Lance mutters.  "If you want to touch me, and
I'm on the couch, you'll have to ask JC for permission to climb up,
or ask me to climb down.  Like a dog who wants to be petted."

Chris stares at Lance, all big dark eyes.  "I thought I could ask
you.  I thought it was safe to ask you.  If I can't ask you stuff,
then I can't do this."

"I just hurt, baby.  I'm sorry I'm taking it out on you.  Go ahead
and ask.  I promise to try to help."  He reaches down to caress
Chris's face.

Chris rubs his cheek against Lance's hand and lips it, kissing it,
then leans his head against Lance's knees.  "Thanks," he says. 
"Seriously.  If I couldn't ask you, I'd be running away so fast. 
There's no way I could not question the rules.  And I trust JC, but
I don't *trust* anyone, if you know what I mean.  So.  Yeah.  The
question.  How'm I supposed to curl up on your lap?  Or JC's lap? 
You said I should ask for permission, but wouldn't that be
questioning the rules?"

"It would be making a request.  Questioning the rules would be
saying 'I want to sit in your lap but the stupid rules won't let
me', instead of 'JC, may I sit in your lap?'," Lance says.

"Are you sure?  'Cause JC said no questioning at all, ever, and
that sounds more like the being disrespectful thing."

"I'll ask him for you," Lance says.  "What else?"

"Just that for questions so far."  Chris sighs.  "My manliness is
rapidly draining away, if I ever had any."

"Oh?"

Chris rolls his eyes.  "That's *why* I'm asking.  I want to cuddle
and pull a blanket over my head and just be warm and loved and not
be having this -- extremely temporary -- freakout about what I just
loved doing upstairs."

JC comes down the stairs lightly.  He wraps his arms around Lance's
shoulders from behind and kisses his hair.  "Is Chris being a bad
dog?"

Chris looks down.

"It depends on your interpretation of the rules," Lance replies.

JC looks at Chris.  "I thought the rules were clear about Chris not
bothering you."

"He wasn't bothering me, per se.  He had some questions.  Then he
'teasingly'," Lance does the finger quotes, "said that if I didn't
help him he'd go upstairs and pout in his doggy bed.  We argued, a
little, about that.  Anyway, his question was about what to do when
he wants to cuddle or sit in someone's lap, since he's not allowed
on the furniture.  He wants it clear that he's not questioning the
rules, just wants to be cuddly."

"It's all right as long as he's given permission.  You can give him
permission if you want to cuddle him.  But Chris?"

Chris looks up.

"Don't be sarcastic to Lance."  JC says in the same tone he would
have used to tell a dog to stop jumping up on Lance.  A firm
warning, then the issue immediately dropped.  He comes around the
side of the couch and scrubs his hand through Chris's hair.

Chris's eyes close and he quivers.

Lance looks at JC and Chris.  "C?"

JC smiles at Lance.  "Yes?"

Lance sits up straight.  "I was thinking I'd like to go home for a
while.  Maybe a day or two?"

Chris draws his legs up and wraps his arms around them.

"Sure," JC says easily.  "You'll come back though?"

"I was planning to," Lance agrees.  "I just... I really need some
time to process, and I can't do it here."  He gently touches
Chris's hair.  "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Chris says, using as few words as possible so he won't
bark at Lance, or worse, cry.

Lance feels like screaming or crying himself.  "I think... I'll go
in the morning."

JC nods.  "If you have to.  I don't want you to go, but if you need
to..."

"I need to."

JC nods again and kisses Lance's forehead.  "I'm going to make
dinner.  Did you want anything special?"

"Can I help?"

JC glances at Chris, brow furrowed.  "Yes, of course."

"Can Chris come, too?"

Chris shakes his head, sure that they'll both ignore him.

"Yes.  He's allowed in the kitchen."

"Good."  Lance stands up and reaches down for Chris.

JC goes to the kitchen, leaving them alone to resolve it.  He has
some idea how Chris is feeling right now, but it's a Lance and
Chris thing.

Chris doesn't see Lance's hands.  He's scrubbing his face dry.

Lance reaches down and lifts Chris to his feet.  He hugs Chris
fiercely.  "I love you.  I'm not leaving you.  I just need a couple
days to get my head together."

Chris clings to Lance.  "Yeah.  Sure."

"I can't do more than love you, Chris."

"I know," Chris says, even though he has no idea what Lance means. 
No guilt trips.  No explaining to Lance how abandoned this makes
Chris feel.  He lets go and tries a smile.  "Time to make dinner?"

"Yeah."  Lance knows Chris must feel bad.  Probably something like
how Lance feels every day, seeing Chris here all fulfilled with JC.

Chris bows, sweeping his hand to indicate that Lance should precede
him.

Lance leads.

Chris follows, for once glad that he can sit on the floor where he
can hide his face.

Lance feels tired.  Chris is hiding in plain sight and it's
suddenly all Lance can do to keep his eyes open as he makes the
side dishes.

JC keeps up a steady stream of conversation throughout dinner as
they eat at the kitchen table, chatting brightly, but Lance is
falling asleep over his plate, and Chris is scowling and stabbing
at his food like he could kill it.

He stands up from the table.  "Why don't you go to bed, Lance?" he
says, coming around the table and urging him out of the chair. 
"You look exhausted.  I can get the dishes."

"It's not physical," Lance says.  "Do you want me to dry?" he
offers, half hoping that JC will give him something to do.

"If you want to.  I was going to just rinse them and drop them in
the dishwasher though."

"Fine, that's fine."

"You can help me take the dishes to the sink," JC offers, trying to
give Lance a way to feel of use.

Lance looks tiredly from JC to Chris and back.  "I think you're
right.  I'll just go on to bed, okay?"

"Okay."  JC kisses him.  "Just in case you fall asleep before I get
there."

Chris stares down at his plate, dry-eyed.

"Thanks."

JC pads into the kitchen with his dishes.  When he comes back out,
Lance is gone, but Chris is still sitting there.  "You should go
upstairs."

Chris shakes his head.  "He won't want me there.  He loves me and
he's leaving and I can't guilt trip him into staying."

JC runs his hand through Chris's hair.  "He'd still like to have
you there.  Even if you don't say anything.  Maybe especially if
you don't.  I think no one's been listening to Lance, not even
Lance."

Chris nods.  "If you want."

"No, Chris.  If you want."  JC strokes his cheek.  "You're not a
prisoner.  You have free run of the house.  The rules weren't meant
to prevent you from going where you chose.  You don't need my
permission.  Unless you're planning to fight with him.  *That*
would be against the rules."

"I might," Chris admits.

"Don't do that."

"Yeah."  Chris stays seated, but when JC comes out to get the last
of the dishes, Chris is gone.

~~~~

When Chris goes up to the bedroom, the bathroom door is closed. 
Lance isn't there.  He isn't sure how he feels about that, but it
definitely makes it easier not to argue with Lance.  He strips down
for bed and crawls onto his pallet, pulling the blanket over him. 
It's a soft and comfortable bed, almost like a nest.  It's the
closest thing to a private hiding place he has here.

He stays there when Lance comes out of the bathroom, and gets into
the bed.  It creaks behind Chris as Lance shifts and gets
comfortable.

Not long afterward, JC comes in and gets ready for bed.  JC's
humming -- JC is constantly making music, even when he isn't aware
of it.  Chris hears him pull back the covers and the bed creaks
again.

JC curls up beside Lance.  "Night, honey."

Lance curls up against JC.  He leans close to whisper in JC's ear,
"I want to lay with Chris, before I go.  Should I go to him?"

JC strokes Lance's shoulder as he considers the matter.  "I don't
think so.  It would be intruding on his place, and demeaning to
you.  But you can call him up on the bed, you know.  He can't come
up by himself, but as long as he's invited, it's all right."  He
thinks some more.  "Did you need me to leave?"

"No!"  Lance clings to JC.  "Don't leave me."

"Ssh, I won't.  I'll stay right here."

"Okay.  Okay," Lance's racing heart slows.  "Chris?" he calls. 
"Chris, do you want to come up here with us?"

Chris's heart pounds.  Keep quiet, he reminds himself.  Don't say
anything.  He gets up and gets into bed next to Lance.

Lance turns to face Chris.  His back is firmly pressed against JC's
front.  "Chris, I need you.  Can I hold you, please?"

Chris nods and slides into Lance's arms.  A hand strokes his hair;
JC smiling at him over Lance's back, letting him know it's okay for
him to be here.

"Thank you," Lance says.  He finally feels okay.  "Anything you
need to say to me, please say it," he says.

Chris shakes his head.

"Nothing to say, or you won't say it?" Lance asks.  His fingers rub
at JC's arm where it's laying over his side.  It's like a talisman
against badness.  A touchstone with hope.

"Nothing you don't already know," Chris says quietly.

"Say it anyway."

"I love you.  I need you.  I don't want you to go.  I want you to
come back."  Chris recites the list like it's something written
down on a piece of paper.

"I *will* come back."

Chris nods.

"You know that I love you.  Did you know that I need you?  Both of
you?" Lance looks back over his shoulder for a second.  "I need
you, Chris."

Chris shakes his head.

JC flicks his ear.  "For real, Chris."

"Yeah," Chris says, lifting pained eyes to JC.  "I know.  But he's
still leaving."

"And I'm still coming back."

"Yeah," Chris says.

"I just have to stop mourning losing you, when you're right here in
front of me," Lance says.  "I feel schizophrenic."

"You're not losing me," Chris says, half-indignant.

"Exactly.  I need to reset my brain.  I need to sleep," Lance adds
when a yawn catches him by surprise.

"Night," Chris says.  ~Goodbye.~

~~~~

Lance's keys clatter loudly on the tabletop.  Or maybe it just
seems loud because his house is so empty.  No one lives here, not
really.  Lance and Chris are both staying at JC's house.

Looking around, Lance feels like he should be taking things down. 
Like taking down the pictures of the ex after a breakup.  But
they're not broken up.  They're just not LanceandChris any more. 
Lance's legs seem to give out, and he lands hard on his ass, next
to the bar.

When God sends a sign like that, what can you do but obey?  Lance
opens the cabinet and starts drinking.  He makes no pretense.  The
goal is to be completely smashed, and he only has three days to
come to terms with this whole un-breakup thing.

After the booze, he moves on to pharmaceuticals.  Various things,
really, just what he's got laying around.  Mostly painkillers.  The
high is phenomenal.  He doesn't have to think about anything
because he doesn't have two thoughts to rub together.  Finally, all
the pain is numbed and all his thoughts are quiet and still.  Lance
passes out in his bedroom.

The alarm wakes him hours later.  Still a little drunk, he gets up
and showers.  It's there, under the pounding hot water, that he
starts to cry.  He misses Chris.  He misses Chris being his. 
Finally, he collapses to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.  Chris
is gone.  Chris.

Somewhere in the middle of it, the water finally runs cold.  Lance
drags himself back to bed and cries himself back to sleep. 
Throughout the day, he consciously forces his thoughts back to the
loss he feels.  Only two days left to grieve.  He wouldn't normally
do this.  He's not usually this emotionally masochistic.  He might
punish himself by putting himself in a situation where someone else
punishes him, but he usually lets his emotions follow along behind.

Today, he can't afford to go that slow.  If he does, he really will
have lost Chris.  So he cries all day, and until his eyes ache.

He spends the last day breaking and reforming himself differently. 
Changing himself into someone who can live with, and love in, an
environment where a person is a pet, and never an equal, never a
lover, never a happily ever after -- not all by himself.  Lance
rebuilds himself into the person Chris needs him to be.  It's the
person Lance needs to be, because he loves Chris.  He goes to bed
a different person that the person he woke up as.

It's time to go back.  Time to go home.

~~~~

JC is downstairs in the kitchen when he hears the car pull up in
the driveway.  He moves to the window, face creasing in a relieved
smile when he sees that it's Lance.  He's happy to see Lance, happy
that Lance has come back -- and relieved because Chris has spent
the entire time Lance has been gone curled up on the futon, like a
dog pining for his master.  JC's been worried for him, trying to
get him to show any interest, but Chris is miserable and showing
it.

Lance opens the door with his key and drops his bag.  He breathes
deeply and bellows, "Chris!  Here, boy!"

JC skids around the corner and holds his arms out for Lance.  "You
came back!"

Upstairs, Chris lifts his head.  He's exhausted.  Just lying around
shouldn't be tiring, but it is.  He's been sneaking down to the
kitchen to snack when he's hungry, so he knows he isn't weakened
and hallucinating.  So that must be Lance he's hearing.

Chris gets up and comes downstairs to take a look.

Lance hugs JC.  "I said I would, didn't I?"  His eyes are all for
Chris, though.

JC follows Lance's eyes.  He whispers to Lance, "He missed you a
lot."

Chris slowly comes over to Lance and pokes him in the chest to make
sure he's solid, then pinches himself.

Lance laughs and pulls Chris tight against his chest.  "I'm here,
baby."

Chris hugs back fiercely.  He coughs to clear his throat.  "Good."

"Yeah, I think it will be."

"Are you feeling better, baby?" JC asks with concern.

Lance touches the tear tracks on his face.  "Yeah.  I am."

Chris isn't sure whether to plead with Lance to stay or just refuse
to move.

JC's the one who reaches up helps to dry Lance's tears.

Lance nuzzles JC's hand.  "So.  I mourned, and I think I'm ready to
move on now."

"I'm happy," JC says.

"Does 'move on' mean leaving?" Chris asks, not looking up.

"No.  I'm not leaving."

Chris has about a half a dozen responses to that, but he can't
decide on any of them.  He just rubs his face against Lance's
chest.

"C'mon," JC says.  "Let's sit down.  I was about to make dinner."

"Okay."  Lance slides his arm around Chris's shoulders and starts
for the kitchen.

JC returns to making dinner.  He'd been washing vegetables; he's
going to need more now that he's cooking for all three of him, not
just himself and what he's been putting in the fridge for Chris to
snack on when he wants.

Lance sits and tucks Chris down between his feet.  "I'm sorry I had
to go," he says.  "But I really wasn't getting any better before."

Chris nods.  "I don't know what to say.  I want to say a lot of
things, but I don't know how."

Lance nods.

"I'm sorry," Chris says.  "For whatever I did.  I'm sorry."

JC turns away from the refrigerator, and goes straight to Chris. 
He gives Lance a stern look over the top of Chris's head, and then
kneels down beside Chris, petting his hair.  "You haven't done
anything wrong.  If you'd done something wrong, I would have taken
care of it.  You're all right, Chris."

Chris gives JC wide puppy dog eyes, but doesn't say anything.

Lance pets Chris's hair.  "Baby, it's not that you did something
wrong.  It's that I just needed a chance to get over my issues."

JC smiles at Lance and stands up, going back to making dinner.

Chris bites his lip, chewing on it.  "Will you have sex with me?"

"Sure.  Right now?"

"Please?"

"Okay.  JC?  Call us for dinner?"

JC nods.  "I will."

"Thanks."  Lance stands and offers Chris his hand.

Chris takes Lance's hand, dumbly allowing Lance to lead him.  It's
not that he's in a submissive mindset.  He's not thinking about it
that way at all.  It's that he desperately needs to connect to
Lance, to make Lance real.  Until then, this is all just a dream.

Lance leads Chris to the bedroom and puts him on the bed.  "Take
off your clothes, please."

Chris skins out of his clothes, dropping them on the floor next to
the bed.  He doesn't take his eyes off Lance.

Lance lifts the lid of JC's toy chest.  "On your back," he says
casually, picking out manacles to hold Chris down.

"Lance?" Chris asks as he lies down.

"Hmm?" Lance asks, carefully fixing the chains to their hooks and
to Chris's wrists.

"Why are you doing it this way?"

"Because that's how you like it, and I'm horny?"

Chris shakes his head.  "It's not how I like it.  I don't mind it,
especially if you like it, but don't do it for me."

"Chris, be quiet."  Lance finishes securing Chris, then takes off
his own clothes.  His goal is to make Chris scream.

~~~~

Lance smiles smugly as he enters the kitchen.  He hugs JC around
the waist and peeks over his shoulder.  "What's for dinner?"

"Stir-fry."  JC turns his head to kiss Lance.  "You look happy."

"I made Chris scream."

JC grins.  "Whatever makes you happy."

"I like pleasing y'all."

"How are you now, really?"

Lance thinks for a long moment before answering.  It's hard to turn
internal debates into simple sentences.  "I'm getting better."

"When you think you can handle it, I'd like to tell you how Chris
reacted to you being gone."

"He laid about like a-- a pet whose owner has abandoned him?"

"Yes, he did," JC says.

Lance sighs.  "I figured he would.  I had to go, though."

"I understand that you needed to do that, and I know that you don't
have any responsibility toward Chris as a top, but he does need
you, and it's cruel to ignore him."

"Jesus, C!"  Lance steps back.  "I'm not ignoring him!  I've been
home like two hours, all but the first three and the last ten
minutes were spent with him!"

JC turns the heat down, and turns around to look at Lance.  "I
don't mean now, baby.  You're doing exactly the right thing now."

"I haven't slept in two days," Lance says.  "Sorry, I'm snippy."

"Then you'll be going to bed right after dinner," JC says firmly. 
"You could use some sleep."

"I could, yes."  Lance doesn't bother to argue.  He wouldn't win,
not with JC using his 'master' voice.

"Good!"  JC kisses him and goes back to the stove.

Chris pads into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Lance from
behind, kissing Lance's neck.  "Hey."

"Hi.  Have a good shower?"

"Uh huh.  Food smells good."

JC dishes the stir-fry out onto plates, which he hands to Lance. 
He washes his hands, then goes to the fridge and gets out drinks,
which he sets on the table.  Petting Chris, he sits down.

Chris follows suit.  He can't keep his eyes off Lance.

Lance carefully sets a plate before each of them, and then takes
his own chair.  "Chris is right, it does smell good, C."

"Thank you.  It's hard to tell how much to believe Chris, since I'm
not entirely sure he's been eating."

"I ate some," Chris says quietly.  "I didn't have much of an
appetite."

Lance reaches out and pets Chris casually.  His first bite of the
stir-fry makes him grin at JC.  "You're wonderful."

Chris relaxes under Lance's hand.

JC grins at Lance, all crinkly.  "It's good to have you home."

"Thanks."

They eat mostly in silence.  Chris especially is quiet, unnaturally
so.  Smiles blossom whenever eyes meet, and the conversation is
limited to pleasantries.

When Lance sets his fork across his plate, JC stands up.  "Time for
bed, baby."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Lance says, surrendering pleasantly.

JC ignores the dishes, coming over to Lance, placing his hands on
Lance's hips.  "It's good having you home."

Lance sways into JC.  "Thanks," he says again, leaning forward for
a kiss.

JC kisses him back, lazy and sensuous.

Lance pulls away after a thorough kissing.  He licks his lips and
winks at JC.  "Okay, no more of that or I'll never get to sleep."

JC makes a regretful noise and takes Lance's hand to lead him to
the bedroom.

Lance looks back at Chris and whistles, just to get his attention. 
"Come tuck me in?"

"Uh huh."  Chris follows them upstairs, smiling to himself.  Lance
is yawning.  It's cute.

Lance strips to his underwear and crawls under the covers JC has
thoughtfully turned back.  "Thanks."

Chris waits until JC has pulled the covers over Lance, and kissed
him again, and smoothed his hair and they've talked in soft tones
that he can't hear about things to do with the two of them.

When JC gets off of the bed, Chris moves in, pretending to tuck the
covers around Lance's shoulders.  "G'night," he says, fingers
trailing over Lance's shoulders.

Lance smiles.  "Kiss me goodnight?"

Chris nods, and leans in, careful to keep his body off the bed, and
kisses Lance, trying to tell Lance that he loves him and
practically worships him and wants Lance to be there when he wakes
up.

Lance blinks sleepily.  "'f JC doesn't mind, you can come up here
and sleep with me for a while," he offers.

Chris looks at JC for permission.  He hasn't disobeyed JC while
Lance was gone, partly because enough of his world had already been
torn apart and partly out of the hope that if he just did
everything the same, Lance would come back.

JC nods.  "He's yours, too, Lance."

"Didn't know," yawn, "if you had," yawn, "plans."  Lance reaches up
and pulls Chris down.  "Sleepy."

"No, no plans," JC says, smiling to see them together.  He leaves,
closing the door behind him so that the dishwasher won't wake
Lance.

Chris cuddles in close.  "I feel stupid being this clingy," he
whispers to Lance.  "But I can't help it.  I miss you."

"Love you, Chris," Lance says.  He pulls the blankets over Chris
and settles in to sleep.  "Tired, baby.  Fallin' 'sleep."

"Love you, too."  Chris closes his eyes and just listens to Lance
breathing.

Lance wakes late the next morning. JC and Chris are both already
up. He can hear them downstairs, laughing about something. Lance
lays in bed for a while, marveling at the feeling of peace he has.
Like he's all clear and ready to start over. He thinks that this is
a good thing, because before it was like trying to climb out of the
burned shell of a house. Every step, every moment was treacherous
and painful. Every movement could have gotten him thrown back down
to the basement to die.

After listening to JC and Chris laugh some more, Lance decides that
he's being an idiot. Because why stay and listen to the happiness,
when you could go be part of it? He gets up, gets showered, gets
dressed and goes to get his life back.