Lance thought with his mouth open. Chris used to think it was funny, the way Lance could get so caught up in something that he forgot to close it, but later he just found it endearing. It only happened when Lance was alone with the guys, too, or with nobody to bitch at or bark orders to. Lance was serene when he was thinking, mouth open and head tilted to the side, calculator or pen in hand.

"You'll catch a fly in there," Joey would say, and flick Lance's bottom lip with his forefinger. Joey'd been one of those kids who'd looked slightly dopey as a baby, stunned look ever-present on his face and drooling down his chin, and Phyllis had done that to him all the time. Lance would always bat Joey's hand away and close his mouth, irritated. Not a minute later it would be open again, and Joey wouldn't come around to harass him anymore because once was enough.

Mouth-breather, Chris had thought, the first few times he'd seen it in motion. He thought Lance might have a sinus thing, congestion, maybe, or allergies, but Lance had turned out to be fine, didn't even sleep with his mouth open unless he had a cold. It was unfortunate, really, because with his mouth open like that, Lance didn't look like he should be thinking at all. With his mouth open like that, Lance didn't look like thinking was his strong suit, and Chris knew for a fact that that wasn't true, knew that Lance had aced honors physics even if he had to work his ass off for it, and that Lance loved JD Salinger and quoted Holden-isms when he talked to himself.

Lance could think so hard, be so lost in the thinking, that Chris started associating computer imagery with him. Lance was always on his laptop anyway, scheduling or emailing or chatting or just plain surfing. He liked it more than Chris, because Chris didn't pretend to be anyone but himself when he was online, and Lance had a million alter-egos, all carrying on different relationships with different people. It was enough like Lance's real-life interactions to give Chris pause. So Chris thought of it like a vent, Lance's mouth; letting the air get to his brain so that it wouldn't overheat and short out, make Lance's pretty eyes glaze over and never again show the signs of intelligent activity, of whatever it was that went on up there.

Lance could get so lost in thought that he wouldn't notice Chris until Chris had already slid a palm up over one smooth cheek, touched Lance's temple with his fingertips. Lance's eyelashes would dance over Chris's thumb as he looked up and all he'd have to do was tilt his head back and let Chris's lips settle over his own, because in the thinking, he'd already be prepared, and that was what Chris liked best about the way Lance thought.

"What're you thinking about?" Chris would ask, when they'd parted and he'd trailed his hand back down Lance's face and tapped the corner of Lance's mouth just enough so that Lance would turn his head that way a little.

"You," Lance would say.

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