oh, those summer nights
by Velma
pineapple, tube socks, grape kool-aidSummers in Orlando are hot, ridiculously so, and Chris has never really gotten used to it. He’s been there long enough to get used to the routine, the afternoon rain showers, the muggy mornings. But he still can’t figure out why he stays.
Well, or why he stays. Now he’s got a reason, wrapped around four other guys that can sing as well as he can. Better, even. And now he’s living in air-conditioned splendor, so the heat doesn’t seem quite so intolerable. Bigger house than he’s ever lived in before, room big enough that even though he’s sharing with Joey he can spread his arms wide and still be in his own space.
It’s pretty fucking cool.
Joey’s cool, too. Another transplant from parts north, although Joey’s taken to Orlando much easier than Chris did. He’s got a way about him, loud and easy and Chris thinks he can probably work a room better than Justin, who’s young and eager and still comes across sometimes like a used car salesman when they’re meeting people. Chris knows with a look at the kid that that’ll change, he learns quick, but for now Joey’s the natural charmer.
He’s also the group peacemaker, which Chris appreciates because he doesn’t have the time or patience for the role, really. And honestly, half the time he’s the provocateur, so. Joey’s never real far, almost like he’s keeping an eye on Chris, playing defense. Works out nicely for Chris, who speaks without thinking a lot, and doesn’t mean to upset the other guys. He doesn’t get how he’s supposed to know that Lance is sensitive about the number of pairs of tube socks he has, or that JC is ridiculously sensitive about the quality of Seal’s music, or that Justin’s fondness for UNC is genuine, and not just a reflection of the school colors. Joey knows all those things, though, and always manages to put out the fires Chris causes.
Joey’s a good guy.
Joey’s also a sexy guy, a fact which does not go unnoticed by Chris. He has a healthy appreciation for both men and women, and Joey’s got a body that doesn’t quit.
Chris brings home a pineapple one day. He'd stopped at a roadside stand on the way back to the house, because they’d had fresh strawberries and JC had a thing and Chris had been an asshole to him at practice and he felt bad, so. Anyway, the pineapple had been sitting there and Chris’s mouth waters so badly for it that he digs through the backseat of his car until he comes up with the money to get it, too.
He’s in the kitchen slicing it when Joey comes in, flushed from working out. Which he hates, but Lou’s pretty insistent and they all want this pretty damn badly, so even Joey has grudgingly agreed to some time on the elliptical bike. Chris tries to ignore the line of sweat working its way down Joey’s neck, doesn’t want to lick it off, no not at all.
He almost cuts himself when Joey takes off the shirt, wiping his forehead with it before he tucks it into his shorts, leaning next to Chris on the counter.
“What’s that?” he asks, and Chris grunts noncommittally, watching the knife as it slices through the yellow fruit. He picks a piece up between his fingers and offers it to Joey, his breath catching when Joey leans forward, taking it between his teeth. Chris swears he feels the whisper of a tongue, licking at his fingers before Joey pulls away.
“Mmm,” Joey grins, swiping another piece as he heads out of the kitchen. “Juicy.” He winks and Chris catches it, the look, can tell Joey knows he does but Chris’ll be damned if Joey gets a reaction out of him. “Think I’ll go shower now,” Joey says, sauntering out of the kitchen. He’s not yet turned the corner when he tosses his shirt at Chris, smacking him in the face.
“Tease,” Chris mutters, frowning at pineapple.
It’s a few days later that Chris makes a move, because he can’t take it anymore and if anyone’s allowed to look smug and satisfied in the house, it’s him, and Joey’s pissing him off, all cat-like and grinning every time Chris walks into a room. Fucker.
They’re on the back porch, a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid between them, and Chris’s eyes keep going to the purple stain around Joey’s lips. Joey’s watching Chris watch him, Chris can tell by his body language, but Chris waits. Licks his lips, and smirks when Joey imitates the movement.
“You’ve got some,” Chris gestures, then leans over, wiping his thumb along Joey’s bottom lip.
“Get it all?” Joey asks, and his voice is suddenly not so cocky. It’s soft and smooth like velvet and Chris gets why Joey’s the glue that holds them together, with a voice like that.
“No,” Chris whispers, and then he’s straddling Joey’s lap, lips twitching ever so slightly as Joey’s hands settle on his waist. He leans in, cups Joey’s cheeks in his hands, and licks at his lips, at the sweet sugary liquid gathered there, and licks inside, at something far sweeter.
They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss some more on the back deck, under the stars, and it’s better than Chris has imagined, Joey’s as good as he ever hoped. When they finally pull away, lips stained more red than purple, it’s only because it’s night, and Chris wants, and there’s more to be had, if they just go inside.
Chris thinks mildly as they stand that Orlando’s not such a bad place after all.
- fin -