JC tips his head against Joey’s shoulder and Joey’s arm comes up, moves so JC falls into his side. The movement is so easy, so effortless it seems practiced, but Lance knows it isn’t. Knows they love each other enough, know each other well enough that they don’t think about it anymore, don’t notice the easy way they move, the way they seem to conform to each other.

Joey’s palm rests over JC’s heart, splayed warm and brown against his white t-shirt. Lance watches, imagines the weight of that hand over his own chest.

He clenches his hands, trying to imagine them smoothing over warm skin, threading through soft hair. Anything. He sighs and opens his eyes.

“What’s up?” Chris asks, slumping against the counter of the small kitchen.

Lance jerks his head toward JC and Joey on the couch. “It’s just…”

Chris nods. “Yeah.”

in the mood?