“Did you know that ‘baisez’ means ‘kiss’ in French?” Chris
asked lazily, not even looking up from his Gameboy.
JC made a “hmmm” sound, but didn’t look up, so Chris
continued.
“Well, like—it doesn’t mean ‘a kiss.’ It’s a form of
‘baiser,’ which means ‘to kiss.’ ‘Baisez’ is a command. Like, if I told you and
Lance to kiss—” JC’s head whipped around, “—then I would just go, ‘hey C,
Lance—baisez.’ And then you’d
kiss.”
JC looked back down at his book, cheeks
burning.
“Or,” Chris said, grinning, “y’know, in gutter-French, it
means ‘fuck.’ So like, if I said ‘Hey Lance, C, bais—’ ”
“What’s your point, Chris?” JC asked quickly, then looked
down at his hands. Oh. He’d accidentally bent the cover of the new Stephen King
novel he’d been reading. Oops.
Chris shrugged. “Nothing, really. I was just thinking, like,
if you and Lance combined your last names, you’d be Mr. And Mr. Bass-Chasez. Or
Basez, for short. Frenchie,” he added with a grin, ignoring JC’s scowl. “And
that’s almost baisez. So…” He shrugged again and leaned back in his chair,
smirking.
“So…” JC gestured, urging him to continue. “What the fuck
does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I was just being random.”
“And this is different from any other time, how?” JC
muttered, opening his book again.
“Its not. Never mind then,” Chris said, rolling his eyes and
turning his Gameboy back on.
A few minutes passed in almost-silence, with only the ‘ping
ping’ of Chris’ game and the soft sound of the pages of JC’s book being turned.
Then JC looked up again, sighing heavily. “Okay. Okay. What’s on your mind,
Chris? And why the hell would Lance and I change our names to
Bass-Chasez?”
Chris grinned, turning off his game. “You’d prefer
Chasez-Bass?”
“No! I mean…why would we want to change our names? Especially
to…that?”
“Well, like…if you got married or something,
then—”
“Whoa!” JC’s face was bright red, and he was running his
fingers nervously through his hair. “Why would we be getting
married?”
Chris sat up and looked at JC, his dark little eyes burning.
“Because you’re in love.”
“No, we’re not!” JC crossed his arms over his chest, refusing
to look at Chris.
“Yes, you are. Feel the Basez love,” Chris said
firmly.
JC sighed. “Why does everyone keep saying
that?”
Chris looked offended. “Hey! I thought I was the first to
coin the Basez phrase.”
“No! I mean, that me and Lance—I mean that other thing you
said.” JC stole a glance at Chris, saw his grin, and looked back down at his
feet.
“Because its true. Now, go baisez the Bass.”
JC looked up. “What?”
“You heard me. That was a command. Baisez, Chasez!” Chris was
grinning his widest, and he pointed towards the door. “Go!”
“No!”
Chris arched an eyebrow. “Why? Scared?”
“No. I just…” JC tossed his hair, trying to look bored. “I
don’t want to.”
“Sure,” Chris smirked. “I’ll believe that in a
thousand years. God, quit being such a pussy. I know it, you know it, thousands
of our fans know it. You and the Bass are MFEO.” JC looked confused, and Chris
sighed. “Made for each other?” he prompted.
“Oh.” JC’s brow unfurrowed itself. “Well, still.
Like—”
Chris made some frustrated noise, and then got up. “Okay,
that’s it. I’m sick of hanging out with your repressed ass.” He dragged JC up
out of his chair and over to the door, ignoring his protests. “Go baisez Lance,
and maybe we can talk. But until then, out. I need to pass this level, and your
thrumming, Lance-craving hormones filling the room aren’t helping.”
He shut the door without another word, leaving JC to rub his
arm and pout. “ ‘Baisez’ my ass, Chris,” he muttered. When he turned around,
Lance was there, looking mortified. JC made an embarassing squeaking noise.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Lance said cautiously, then his face broke into a grin.
“Chris got to you, too?”
JC blushed and looked at his shoes. “Um.
Yeah.”
Lance cleared his throat. “So. Wanna baisez
me?”
JC looked up. Lance was grinning slightly, and JC couldn’t
tell if he was kidding or not. He reached out a finger and ran it over the
stubble on Lance’s face. Within five seconds, he was pressed against the wall,
his mouth open and wet against Lance’s own. Oh. Um.
It was actually kind of nice.
When Lance pulled away he was well-kissed and
satisfied-looking, and he leaned in to whisper in JC’s ear, “Je veux te
baiser.”
JC moaned a little at the sound of Lance’s voice, and then he
straightened. “Hey. Wait. I didn’t know you spoke French.”
Lance shrugged. “Sure. I’m the one who told Chris what
‘baisez’ means.”
THE END