by Kenovay
�What�s the matter, wrinkly?� JC was feeling rather giggly this evening. He had just, finally, finished reading War and Peace, and he was exceedingly proud of his achievement. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and regarded Chris with his eyebrows raised.
�My feet hurt!� Chris whined.
�Good for you.� JC grinned as Chris pinned him with a watered down version of the death-ray glare.
�And you don�t care.�
�Oh, baby, I care, I care!� JC nodded earnestly.
Chris pouted. �They reeeeeeeally hurt.� He glanced at JC hopefully out of the corner of his eye. �You could rub them.�
�I could. Or I could go and ask Joey if he wants to hit the clubs. As an alternative.�
�I�ll screech,� Chris muttered darkly.
JC�s eyes widened. �No! No screech!� He jumped to his feet. Chris looked smug.
�You should take the glasses off, dork. Girls don�t make passes at boys in glasses.�
�Do boys?� JC sat down by Chris� feet, which were hanging off the end of the bed.
�Do boys what?�
�Make passes at boys in glasses?�
Chris craned his neck up and eyed JC. �If the glasses come with a feet rub, I�m sure� boys could be persuaded.� JC grinned.
