BackToYou

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar and chocolate sprinkles on top?"

"No."

"Come on baby, it's just one dinner." Pink lips form the perfect pout, and green eyes are enlarged until black pupils threaten to overtake the green. "Do it for me?"

Your slender hand reaches up, raking through long brown strands and the occasional blonde one with a sigh.

"But she hates me." You're whining, and you know it, but at the moment you couldn't care less. You're two seconds away from losing this argument and you have to fight every step of the way.

"She doesn't hate you. She just- doesn't understand you?"

It's more of a question than a reassuring statement, and it doesn't make you feel any better.

"Please Josh? Please?"

Damn it all, there's that pout again. Honestly, how can you say no to a face like that? Oh, that's right, like this.

"No thank you."

"Joshua Scott Chasez! You are coming to dinner with my mother and I or else you can just get nice and cozy with your hand while you sleep on the couch tonight."

He raises a perfect eyebrow in a challenge of sorts, and for a moment there's silence.

"I'll go get dressed."

~*~
You sigh loudly, making sure he knows just how much you hate being here. He looks up at you and gives you a winning smile, and for a split second you have the urge to smack him. You silently remind yourself that this is the man you love, and after ignoring the fact that he basically blackmailed you in to coming here, you remember that he loves you too.

You give him a fake cheery grin, and return your attention to your water glass. When you were younger, you and Tyler used to have little competitions over who could flick the most pieces of ice into your water glasses with just a spoon. You grin at the memory because, after all, you are the undefeated champion.

Loosening your tie, you slouch in your seat, lining up the spoon and water glass perfectly. The big part of the spoon always faces the glass, and the ice is carefully placed on the skinny part. Sometimes, Heather used to do a running commentary as you and Tyler battled, and you wonder if Lance would be willing to do one. Just for old times sake.

Glancing up, you are immediately cornered with a disapproving glare from him, and you blush before quickly ducking your head. Nope, no sentimentality there. After the ice slips off the spoon three or four times, you get smart and stick a piece of paper on the spot, laying the ice on top of it. When it sticks and doesn't move, you grin proudly. You look up at Lance for support, but are reminded of what he thinks when his eyes narrow further. You think that he looks adorable when he's mad, but the last time you mentioned it you received a good swift kick in the ass and a lovely night on the couch. No need to reminisce.

'This is going to be a tough routine ladies and gentlemen. Chasez has to do a quadruple axle spring back, fly through the air at a forty-five degree angle, and land in the glass with a small splash in order to win the gold. Can he do it?'

You hover your index and middle fingers over the large end of the spoon, your pink tongue caught between your teeth in concentration, before pushing them down quickly.

'The ice is up! Nice take off, smooth flight, it's going ... going ... that baby's gone! Joshua Scott Chasez has just won the first ever gold medal for ice flicking! Is there anything this guy *can't* do? Joshua... Joshua... Josh.... Jacyeeee...'

Your head snaps up, and for a moment you've forgotten where you are. As your pupils begin to focus in, the first thing they notice is Lance's brilliant smile. You sigh happily, glad he isn't mad at you anymore, and move to hug him. He does get up, but walks right past you. You look at your empty arms and think, 'What the hell just happened?' Looking over your shoulder, your face falls into a bored expression. Oh, right, her.

You straighten your tie, knowing full well how much Diane Bass appreciates a sharp appearance. You can hear her chatting lively with her son, your *lover*, right behind you, and you mock her silently before moving to stand up. Lance smiles at you, and you grin at him because he looks nervous. 'Serves him right,' you think.

"Mom, you remember Josh?" he says, looping his arm through yours and squeezing lightly.

You love him because he's trying, and you figure the least you can do for him is make nice with his mother. You hold out your right hand, and say with your most charming smile, "Diane, hi. Nice to see you again."

She nods, but instead of shaking your hand, lays her coat on your
outstretched arm. Lance's mouth falls open in shock, and you're pretty sure your reaction mirrors his. Turning to the dinner table, you see that she has all ready sat down. And, no surprise here, she's taken your spot right next to Lance. Lance is watching you nervously, biting his lower lip in that sexy way he does, but you're too pissed to notice this.

Suddenly, a smile breaks out onto your face, and you kiss Lance's nose. You take his arm gently and pull back his seat, helping him sit down. Turning to Diane, you find her watching the two of you.

"Allow me to take your coat up front," you say sweetly. "You two just chat it up."

She rolls her eyes slightly, and you catch the motion. Wringing her new
leather coat in your hands, you pantomime hitting her over the head with it when she isn't looking. Lance, however, *does* notice and chokes on his water. You grin at him and wink, turning quickly to get rid of the ugly coat before you make the poor boy wet himself.

~*~
After disposing of the coat, you return to the table just as the waiter is leaving. You watch him go with a confused look as you sit down.

"Oh Joshua," says Diane, "the waiter came while you were gone so James and I went ahead and ordered."

You hate the way she always calls Lance James. As if by referring to him by his first name, she can hold on to a part of him that you will never have. You scowl and sigh.

"What about me?" you ask quietly, the calmness in your voice betraying the anger and annoyance you feel towards this woman.

"I ordered you steak," Lance speaks up, squeezing your hand lightly and
leaving it there. "I know how much you like it."

You smile and are about to say thank you when Diane snorts softly.

"It figures. You city boys always have to have the priciest thing on the menu," she sighs, looking at you sharply. "Always got to have the best, isn't that right? Not that it'll help you much. You're like a stick, boy."

You grind your teeth and unconsciously squeeze Lance's hand harder. You hate the way she calls you boy, like you aren't human enough to have an actual name. And you'll be damned if she doesn't always find some way to make your fast metabolism sound like an insult. You mentally count to ten, and turn when you feel a squeeze on your hand.

Your heart breaks at the sight of your lover, because damn if those aren't tears in his beautiful eyes. You don't think you could possible dislike Diane Bass more than you do at that very moment. Giving Lance a soft smile, a *real* smile, you turn back to Diane with a pointed look. 'Only for Lance,' you remind yourself.

"I guess you're right Diane," you say, and you enjoy the brief look of shock on her face. 'Score one for Chasez the Stick Boy.' You lean over and give Lance a sweet peck on the lips. "I always have to have the best."

You don't turn around in time to catch Diane's scowl and the death glare she's giving your back. Lance's happy grin and the obvious relief in his eyes are enough for you.

~*~
Overall, you think the night could've been worse. There's no doubt you've would've had more fun getting a root canal, but you aren't picky. You and Diane basically ignored each other the entire time, and that suited you just fine.

As you crawl into bed that night, you sigh happily as Lance curls up against you, the top of his head resting beneath your chin and both of your chests pressed together. Wrapping your arms around him, you kiss his soft spikes, ready to forget everything but him and you.

"I'm sorry about my mother Josh," he says quietly.

You shrug but say nothing, causing him to look up at you. Smiling, you kiss his drooping eyelids.

"The way I look at it," you say, "is that no matter what she says or does, you always come back to me. You and I, we always come back to each other."

You blush because that was corny as hell, but what can you do? It was a somewhat philosophical moment and now it's over. Lance curls up against you again, kissing your collarbone softly.

"I'll always come back to you," he whispers before dozing off.

You smile sleepily because no matter what, you will always come back to him too.

THE END