The Lovely Things Thanksgiving Brings

"Rise and shine! Happy Thanksgiving, JC!" Lance opened the bedroom curtains and bright Florida sunshine flooded the room.

The lump on the bed moaned.

"C'mon, Jayce, it's already after 9. We have a lot to do." He pulled the covers off JC.

"Mmph," JC mumbled. He reached out and grabbed Lance's arm, giving it a sharp yank. Lance landed on the bed next to him.

"There's no time for this," Lance protested as he wiggled towards the edge of the bed. JC just nuzzled his throat. "JC. I'm serious."

JC pressed a kiss to Lance's jaw and slid himself over so that his body nearly covered Lance's, all the while not opening his eyes. His hand roamed lower as his mouth covered Lance's.

"Oh, fuck, there goes my schedule," Lance groaned.

***

"No no no," Lance chanted. He was hopping around trying to get his pants back on and his shirt buttoned all in one go. JC was still in bed. "No, JC, look at the time! JC!"

"Lance, man, c'mon," JC said. "You should be totally relaxed now. Breathe."

"I will breathe at two o'clock when dinner is on the table and people are not choking in an attempt to eat my food," Lance said. "Fuck! I have to get started cooking. I can't believe I- never mind. It's all done. Get your ass out of bed. I need help. You promised to help."

He finally managed to get everything buttoned and took off for the kitchen. By the time JC made it down, Lance felt reasonably in control. He had Christmas music playing softly in the background, as was his mother's habit, a pot on the stove and two dishes to be prepared in front of him

"The schedule's on the fridge, Jayce," he said in greeting. "I have the sweet and sour cabbage on the stove now, and I'm going to start working on the cornbread and dressing. What do you want to start with?"

JC was looking through the list. "No artichokes?" he asked.

Lance turned to look at him. "Um, no. Why?"

JC shrugged. "Well, you know, my dad used to make them on Thanksgiving and I liked them a lot. Didn't I tell you?"

"No," Lance said. "You didn't. Okay. Well, do you want to go to the store and get some? You can make them when you get back, then, and we'll go from there."

"Sure, man," JC agreed. "Sounds fine. I'll stop at Starbucks, too. What do you want?"

"Just plain old coffee, thanks," Lance said. "Hurry back."

JC nodded and headed back out the door.

Almost an hour later, the corn bread and dressing were nearly done, the yams were just starting to cook, JC was not home and Lance was furious. He grabbed his cell phone and used his first speed dial. As always, it rang and rang until it hit voice mail. Lance disconnected and dialed again. This time JC picked up almost immediately.

"JC? Where are you?" Lance asked.

"Oh, man, I was walking back to my car and I saw this new music shop! So I was looking in the window and there was this cool cat playing the sax, right, and so I was listening to him play and then we got to talking, and he just has some ideas for songs that are so great," JC enthused. "Wait until you hear this!"

"JC, do you have the artichokes?" Lance interrupted. "And the coffee?"

"Oh, yeah," JC said. "Got those first."

"Okay. Well, JC, it's just about 11 now, and everyone is getting here at one. Remember? Would you maybe like to come home now? And cook your artichokes? And help me with the other dishes?" Lance asked. His fingers tightened on the phone.

"Oh, hey, sure. I'll just get his e-mail and then I'll be home, all right, babe? See ya."

Lance disconnected again and considered throwing his cell phone. Typical JC - distracted and excited by completely the wrong things, and only reachable by cell phone. He may as well be in LA recording for all the help he was giving Lance.

He reached for the turkey at the end of the counter and froze when he touched it. "Oh, man, no," he groaned. "Why? Why? Just, why?" The bird was still hard, almost as frozen as it had been at 8 the night before when he had pulled it out to defrost.

He was at the computer, searching for ways to deal with a frozen turkey when JC came home.

"Hey, sugar," JC said, shaking the bags he held. "I got the artichokes, coffees and some sandwiches to snack on. Sound okay?"

"Sure, fine, thanks," Lance mumbled, clicking his mouse.

"What you got there?" JC said, coming to peek over.

"Frozen turkey. Got it," Lance said triumphantly. He grabbed the print out. "I'll cut it a bit and broil it for a bit at the end and it should be okay!"

He ran back to the kitchen, grabbing his coffee and gulping down half of it in one go. JC watched, bemused, as Lance finished preparing the turkey and got it into the oven.

"Only 10 minutes late, not bad," Lance said. "Aren't you cooking? They need to get done. C'mon, I'm starting the potato casserole now, we can work on them together."

Lance worked quickly, chopping and draining. JC was slower, but Lance thought it looked perfect when it was done.

"Nice, JC," he said, smiling. "What's next on your list? You pick first."

"I'll do the salad," JC said. "I'm just gonna run to the bathroom first. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Lance said, already starting the pumpkin cheesecake.

It wasn't until he had finished mixing and pouring into the crust that he realized JC hadn't come back.

"Fuck this," he said, slamming the oven shut. He left the kitchen, calling for JC. He found him in the living room, just inside the doorway.

"Lance!" JC said. "Look, Lord of the Rings is on TV today! All of them in a row. The Two Towers just started."

"Do you realize it's after noon?" Lance asked. "That you were gone half an hour. Half an hour, JC!"

"Oh, dude, no, it was that long?" JC asked. "I got caught up, I thought I'd just stand there for a minute and watch a little, you know?"

"Let's go, JC," Lance said. "There are still a few more things to make." JC followed him back down the hall to the kitchen.

"Oh, wait," JC said, stopping. "I never got to the bathroom."

Lance turned to look at him. "If you don't get your ass in here now," he said evenly, "I will pluck out your nosehairs, one by one."

JC stared at him. "Uh. Right."

They worked quietly for a few minutes, JC on the fruit salad and Lance on the mashed potatoes.

JC started to wiggle a little bit and Lance sighed. "Go to the damn bathroom, JC."

"Thanks," he called as he dashed out.

Lance shook the salt into the potatoes with a bit more force than necessary. "See you at dinner, JC," he said to himself. "Maybe tonight. Maybe you're going to see a pretty shiny penny out the window and then a big rolling ball with super neat splotches, man, and follow that and then just go away for fucking ever." He turned on the electric mixer and kept mumbling. "Well, good fucking riddance to you."

"Lance?" JC said. He stood in the doorway, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"You are kidding me," Lance said. "What's wrong? Did you honestly, really just say that?"

"Yeah, I did. What happened?"

Lance set down the mixer and picked up the spoon, stirring forcefully as he talked. "What happened? Let's see. You didn't wake up early to help, like you promised. You disappeared for an hour instead of helping like you promised. You made one dish, only to disappear again instead of helping like you promised. Are you noticing a trend here, JC?" Lance asked. "Because I sure am."

"I said I was sorry, man," JC said. "Time got away from me. I'm here now."

"It's 12:30, JC! Everyone will be here in half an hour. This is it. Just about everything is done. I have been working my ass off for hours now, and you've done nothing but disappear, as always. There's always something more important to do, something far away, something not where I am. Always, JC." Lance gripped the spoon to keep from flinging it at JC's head.

"I don't understand," JC said, confused. "I didn't - "

"Damn it, JC!" Lance exploded. He threw the spoon onto the counter and JC took a step back. "I don't understand. I don't understand why I see less of you now than I did before we started dating or before we moved in together. I don't understand why our relationship means so fucking little to you. You can't even help me with this dinner? It's your family, too, you know! It's you and me and our families coming together, supposedly grateful that we are together and you can't even muster the energy to fake your way through it!"

"Lance," JC said, his forehead creased. "Lance, baby."

"Oh, don't give me any of that crap," Lance said, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," JC said. "Lance, I am," he frowned. "I love you. I didn't know this was some kind of deal breaker or something, man."

"It's not a deal breaker, JC," Lance said. "It's the damn straw breaking the fucking camel's back. I am so sick of having a relationship with my cell phone and not you. You're not around. When you are, I have to push and prod you to do anything with me. I thought this would be different, damned if I know why, but I thought this was something we could do together. You and me, and you fucking blew it off, Jayce. You blew it off and me, and I can't take that anymore." He picked up the spoon, trying to keep his hand steady, and tasted the potatoes. He promptly spat them out. "Fuck. Damn salt. These are wrecked, too."

JC wrinkled his nose at the mushy mound of mashed potato now on the counter, but all he said was, "I can fix that."

"What?" Lance snapped.

JC nodded towards the bowl. "The, uh, potatoes, man. I can, you know, help." He took a tentative step forward. Lance didn't move. "Yeah. You see, you can add things to it, like, I don't know, herbs. Maybe some parsley? Mix 'em in, man, and you can't taste the salt."

"Are you sure?" Lance asked after a pause.

"Pretty sure, yeah." He smiled. "My mom did it once before, too."

"Fine." Lance went through his spice cabinet, selecting a few and dumping them in. He mixed and tasted again. "Not bad. Thank you."

"No, hey, no problem." JC fidgeted with the edge of the counter. "Oh and I, uh, had some ideas for the table, you know? Like, some red berry garland or something around all of the plates. Oh, and, maybe, name cards. That would be cool."

"JC." Lance braced himself on the counter. "Stop. You don't need to do this. You've already shown me that you have no interest. Just forget it. I'll call you for dinner if you want, or stay away. Whatever. Just don't suddenly start pretending you're all excited about this. Don't make it worse."

"Well, I'm pretty shitty for not realizing how much this meant to you, man. And there's no real good way for me to go here, you're either thinking I'm faking it if I stay or don't love you if I leave, so I'm going with the way most likely to have you keep me around." JC shrugged. "I'd be pretty bummed if that changed, so I'm doing my best here. Now. Because I want to, you know, do something with you, like you said. Something important to you, and this is, well, a beginning. A place to start."

Lance eyed him, but JC seemed sincere. "Fine. Start. You have fifteen minutes until everyone is supposed to come. Make it pretty."

JC beamed at him and blew him a kiss. Lance almost felt like smiling back.

***

Later that night, after their families had gone back to their hotels and JC had cleaned the entire kitchen himself, they lay collapsed on the couches in the living room.

"I am never doing this again," Lance said, covering his face with his hands. "I cannot take the stress of this again."

"Everything came out great, Lance," JC said from his spot hanging upside down off the other couch. "No one minded the extra half an hour for the turkey to finish. You kicked ass, man."

"I did," Lance agreed modestly. "That doesn't mean I'm ever doing it again."

"Uh, maybe not," JC said. He grabbed a throw pillow and hid his face. "But we are."

"Excuse me?" Lance said. He sat up sharply. "What did you say?"

JC moved the pillow a little so Lance could see his red face. "I may have said that we, together, as a team and a couple and a duo and two, would cook Christmas dinner here. Together. Us. Not you." He moved the pillow back just in time to ward off the magazines and remotes that Lance started tossing at him.

"Why did you say that?" Lance wailed, pelting him with a shoe. "Why, JC?"

"To prove that I was sorry," JC said, his voice muffled. "I am sorry, and it's not going to happen again. You'll see at Christmas, okay? I value my nosehairs, honey, and you."

"JC! Fine. You get one more chance to redeem yourself," Lance said and stood up. "In the meantime, however, I'm no longer on a schedule." He held out his hand to JC, who grasped it firmly and pulled himself up. "Race ya."

They raced out of the room, laughing, ready to put their day behind them and try again.

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