Pairing: Justin and Lance
Words: disobey; penalty box; mincing; shorty


"Hey!" Justin hollers as he's shoved inside the door.  "Why do I
got to be in the penalty box?  What'd I ever do?"

"Called me 'Shorty'!" Chris' voice retorts from the other side of
the door.

"But you *are* short!" Justin yells, turning and pushing at the
door as it's slowly forced closed.

"I'm not!  And anyway, it's your fault, because you made JC sing
the song!"

"Fine!" Justin yells as Chris gets the door shut.  "Be that way!"

"I will!" Chris yells back.

Justin turns and faces the room.  Lance is sitting at his laptop
looking at him.  Justin smiles sheepishly.  "Hi?"

Lance sighs.  "Hi.  What did you do to get locked in here with me?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."  Lance tries to ignore Justin and go back to his email.

Justin comes over to Lance and sits down near him.  "So whatcha
doing?"

"Email," Lance says shortly.  The key to not getting beat up or
otherwise distracted by Justin is to seem as boring as possible.

"Um.  I'm sensing hostility here, dude.  Do we need to have a talk
about our feelings?"

Lance sighs again.  "You're not going to let me just do my work,
are you?"

"No?"

"Why not?" Lance whines.

"Because then this really would be a punishment and Chris would
win."

"Fine."  Lance logs out and shuts down his computer.  "Now what? 
Time to make fun of me for something?  Or just force me to do
something stupid for you?"  He gets up and starts pacing in the
confined space.  "Just pick, okay?  I like to know what to expect."

"Wow.  Serious hostility.  We can start with you venting if you
want.  Tell me everything I do that makes you angry."

"Justin!"

"What?"

Lance glares at Justin.  "What do you *want*, you brat?"

"See, that's good.  Name-calling is good, breaks down the tension."

"Listen you little...  You think you can just come *mincing* in
here and totally screw with my life and I'm not going to care?  I'm
tired of this!  Y'all are always doing this to me.  I have *work*
to do.  Someone has to do it, and I put up with you all teasing me
and disobeying the directions I give you.  But I'm not going to
*talk* about it.  I know y'all think I look like a girl, but,
Jesus.  I'm a guy.  Now fuck off or tell me what you want."

"That was perfect.  So what you're saying is that you have
important stuff to do and we're always interrupting you and this
upsets you."

Lance calmly walks over and grabs Justin, dragging him to his feet. 
They stumble together over to the couch where Lance sits and pushes
Justin down on the floor in front of him.  "Here's the deal.  Shut
up, or I'll make you."

"But we're finally really talking and working on our issues!"

"I don't want to work on my issues."

Justin bites his lip.  "But then you'll always be mad at me and
stuff.  I want to make it so we're okay, you and me."

Lance closes his eyes and counts to ten.  "Justin.  We're okay,
really, we are.  I adore you.  Except when you're an annoying
asshole."  He doesn't mention that that's most of the time.

"You like me?"

"Sadly, yes."

"But that's good!  We can build on that."

"Justin," Lance starts wearily.  Then he laughs and leans back
against the couch.  "I'm busy.  Either suck my cock, or let me
finish my email."

"How long is it going to take you to finish your email?"

"About an hour, *if* I don't get any new mail in."

"And if I suck your dick, are you going to go back to your email?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Lance asks, opening his eyes and frowning at Justin.

"Yeah."  Justin kneels up and turns around, reaching for Lance's
shorts.  "We can talk afterward, but I think we're making a lot of
progress already."

"Justin -- Justin, you said you'd rather get the Ebola virus than
do anything even remotely sexy with me."

"Did not."

"Yes, you did."

"Well, I'm taking it back then.  Having you like me is more
important."

Lance opens his mouth to protest that he *does* like Justin.  But
Lance is a guy.  And that would be like turning down a blowjob,
which no guy would ever do.  Lance shrugs and leans back.  "Okay."

Justin grins up at him.  "Okay!  But afterward, we're gonna talk. 
Really talk.  And no email."

Lance just pats Justin's head and opens his zipper.  "Sure, Justin. 
Anything you say."

Lance is still resisting, but Justin knows he's going to give in. 
 But the definition of 'penalty box' is going to have to change,
because Justin's pretty sure that he just won the game.