finally written because, well, i owe you a lot (""). ;) plus, aj!month! not quite what you asked for, but still.also? this is part of the aj/lance hooker!au i started 2 years ago that i probably will never take up again. i hope it makes sense.
Lance emerges from the bedroom at eight thirty; AJ’s been sitting on the worn couch, waiting for him for the past hour. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re about to throw up the five hundred and thirty seven beers you had last night,” he responds, dryly, and only grins when Lance rolls his eyes.
“Thanks,” Lance mutters, yanking his hat off his head as he tries, yet again, to flatten his hair. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to miss the graduation ceremony; you know, the one I’ve been slogging all year for a chance to attend?”
AJ stands with a smirk, and walks over to Lance, running his fingers through Lance’s hair to smoothen it out, then guiding Lance’s head forward so their mouths are mere inches apart. “Relax,” he murmurs, before covering the distance between them.
He can’t bring himself to be surprised, though, when Lance places a hand flat against AJ’s chest and pushes him away a moment later. “You’ll crease my uniform, jackass.”
“Right, sorry,” AJ retorts, with a shake of his head, “I was too busy thinking about how I was gonna crease that dress of yours to realize that creasing it would be a bad idea.”
Lance throws his hands up in frustration. “AJ! This is not a dress! And do I remotely look like I might be in the mood to have sex right now?”
AJ surveys Lance for a moment, his head tilted mockingly. “No,” he sighs, at last, “but I thought the point would be changing your mind.”
With a heartfelt groan, Lance turns and stalks back into the bedroom. The door slams shut, and two seconds later, AJ hears a muffled yell and the sound of a fist making contact with a pillow. Repeatedly.
“You’re gonna be laaaaaaaate,” AJ singsongs, after five minutes has passed and the regular thumping sounds he can hear from the bedroom don’t seem to be slowing. “But I’m sure they’ll hold up the rest of the—” AJ cuts himself off when the door swings open and Lance marches out and grabs him by the collar, dragging him outside the house. “Okay, then.”
“I fucking swear, McLean,” Lance mutters, under his breath, as they turn the corner sharply, Lance’s pace brisk as always, “sometimes I wish you’d just drop dea—oh. Shit.”
AJ’s pace doesn’t slow, even when Lance comes to a complete halt. Five steps later and Lance still hasn’t moved. “Come on,” AJ says, calmly. “You don’t want to be late.”
“Aje—” Lance’s voice is laced with guilt, and somehow that makes it impossible for AJ to turn around.
“Lance.” AJ interrupts; he can feel his breath catch, and he hopes to God his voice hasn’t. He’d thought he’d gotten over it, the fact that he’s HIV positive, that he might die at any given moment, but--
“AJ,” Lance tries again. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
AJ has to bite back the bitter sarcasm that rises to his lips. “I know,” he says, instead, but he isn’t sure he’s convincing enough.
“Do you really?” Lance murmurs, so quietly AJ can choose to ignore it if that’s what he wants. Lance always leaves the back door open. But, as always, AJ’s never smart enough to take the easy road.
He turns to Lance, with a smile so broken Lance has to look away. “Don’t make me lie to you.”
There’s a terse moment of silence, and then Lance’s arms are curled around AJ’s neck, warm and sweet and alive. His mouth is pressed against AJ’s when he whispers, “I love you. You are not gonna die on me.”
AJ simply tugs Lance forward and continues on their trek to school. “Come on, I don’t wanna miss this,” he says, as Lance’s fingers slide through his own. Their hands stay linked the entire way there.
no subject
Lance emerges from the bedroom at eight thirty; AJ’s been sitting on the worn couch, waiting for him for the past hour. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re about to throw up the five hundred and thirty seven beers you had last night,” he responds, dryly, and only grins when Lance rolls his eyes.
“Thanks,” Lance mutters, yanking his hat off his head as he tries, yet again, to flatten his hair. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to miss the graduation ceremony; you know, the one I’ve been slogging all year for a chance to attend?”
AJ stands with a smirk, and walks over to Lance, running his fingers through Lance’s hair to smoothen it out, then guiding Lance’s head forward so their mouths are mere inches apart. “Relax,” he murmurs, before covering the distance between them.
He can’t bring himself to be surprised, though, when Lance places a hand flat against AJ’s chest and pushes him away a moment later. “You’ll crease my uniform, jackass.”
“Right, sorry,” AJ retorts, with a shake of his head, “I was too busy thinking about how I was gonna crease that dress of yours to realize that creasing it would be a bad idea.”
Lance throws his hands up in frustration. “AJ! This is not a dress! And do I remotely look like I might be in the mood to have sex right now?”
AJ surveys Lance for a moment, his head tilted mockingly. “No,” he sighs, at last, “but I thought the point would be changing your mind.”
With a heartfelt groan, Lance turns and stalks back into the bedroom. The door slams shut, and two seconds later, AJ hears a muffled yell and the sound of a fist making contact with a pillow. Repeatedly.
“You’re gonna be laaaaaaaate,” AJ singsongs, after five minutes has passed and the regular thumping sounds he can hear from the bedroom don’t seem to be slowing. “But I’m sure they’ll hold up the rest of the—” AJ cuts himself off when the door swings open and Lance marches out and grabs him by the collar, dragging him outside the house. “Okay, then.”
“I fucking swear, McLean,” Lance mutters, under his breath, as they turn the corner sharply, Lance’s pace brisk as always, “sometimes I wish you’d just drop dea—oh. Shit.”
AJ’s pace doesn’t slow, even when Lance comes to a complete halt. Five steps later and Lance still hasn’t moved. “Come on,” AJ says, calmly. “You don’t want to be late.”
“Aje—” Lance’s voice is laced with guilt, and somehow that makes it impossible for AJ to turn around.
“Lance.” AJ interrupts; he can feel his breath catch, and he hopes to God his voice hasn’t. He’d thought he’d gotten over it, the fact that he’s HIV positive, that he might die at any given moment, but--
“AJ,” Lance tries again. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
AJ has to bite back the bitter sarcasm that rises to his lips. “I know,” he says, instead, but he isn’t sure he’s convincing enough.
“Do you really?” Lance murmurs, so quietly AJ can choose to ignore it if that’s what he wants. Lance always leaves the back door open. But, as always, AJ’s never smart enough to take the easy road.
He turns to Lance, with a smile so broken Lance has to look away. “Don’t make me lie to you.”
There’s a terse moment of silence, and then Lance’s arms are curled around AJ’s neck, warm and sweet and alive. His mouth is pressed against AJ’s when he whispers, “I love you. You are not gonna die on me.”
AJ simply tugs Lance forward and continues on their trek to school. “Come on, I don’t wanna miss this,” he says, as Lance’s fingers slide through his own. Their hands stay linked the entire way there.