// gardening //

When JC answers the door in a beaten up straw hat, flipflops and a thong, Chris doesn't even blink. Ok, so he laughs so hard he ends up choking, and JC has to thump him on the back a few times, but there's definitely no blinking. At all.

"What." Chris manages, before convulsing into laughter again. JC rolls his eyes and thumps him once more. Not on the back this time, but on the shoulder and Chris frowns because, ow, that hurts-- and he kinda suspects JC meant it to.

"Yes, I meant it to hurt," JC sniffs and Chris gives himself a mental high-five. I knew it. Vicious lil' fucker. In a thong, no less, but yes. Ow.

When he can breathe properly again, and the pain in his shoulder has receded a little, Chris tries again. "What," he says, flicking the brim of the straw hat, "the hell are you wearing?" He snaps the waistband of the thong for good measure, and gets another thump on the shoulder for his efforts. "Ow!" he screeches, and backs away from JC, hands raised in mock-surrender. "Fucking hell, man. At least let me in the door before you start working me over. Geeze." He rubs his shoulder and glares at JC, who glares right on back at him.

"I'm gardening," JC mutters, as he steps aside to let Chris walk past. "These are my gardening clothes."

"Gardening?" Chris stops dead. "Since when do you garden? You-- Chasez of the manicured nails?"

JC adjusts his thong daintily. "Since a few days ago. It's really very relaxing. Good for harmonising the mind and body."

"Are we talking herbal gardening? Because that would explain the outfit. Y'know, if you'd been smoking what you're growing. That'd explain a lot. It'd also save me having to bring over little baggies of my stash everytime you decide you want to get in touch with your inner spirit animal." Chris nods approvingly. "Gardening, huh? Maybe this could be a good thing." Especially the thong. The thong is a very good thing.

"I'm not growing pot, Chris. This is real gardening."

"Real gardening? As opposed to the fake gardening?" He can't stop staring at JC's ass in the thong. Concentrate, Kirkpatrick. Stop staring. Or at least only stare when he's not looking.

"Chris--" JC's voice is threatening, and Chris grabs his shoulder just in case JC makes another move to thump him. Can't be too sure-- he's wily. And bendy. He could probably reach me from there. And get me in a headlock and slam me into the wall. I bet he would too-- Chris frowns and eyes JC warily.

"Ok, ok. No more jokes, I promise." He crosses his fingers behind his back, hoping JC can't see them. "Come on. Tell me all about the gardening. I'm sure it'll be...fascinating. Yeah." Or not. But...thong. The thong is good.

JC smiles happily, and grabs Chris' hand. "Better yet, I'll show you. C'mon. Out here."

He leads Chris out onto the patio, then down a few steps onto his expansive back lawn. Chris glances around. He sees trees and some outdoor furniture, and several bushes bursting with pink blooms-- JC went through a phase a while back where everything had to be pink or it was ripped out of the ground mercilessly-- but he sees nothing remotely resembling a new garden. He does however, see a huge pile of stones and a rake.

Which JC is now pointing at. "See?" he says, undisguised glee in his voice. "See that? What do you think?"

"Hmm." Chris cocks his head to the side. "I think. Um. I think it looks like a pile of stones. With a rake. That's what I think."

"No, nonono. No, Chris. Look closer." JC grabs his hand again and tugs on it. "C'mere. See?" He picks up the rake and Chris watches as he drags it through the stones in a vaguely random manner. Ok then. He's raking the stones. He's finally flipped. This is even more bizarre than the time he refused to eat anything that was orange. "Um....C?" Chris reaches out to take the rake from his hands. "I think you're having a breakdown. You're raking a pile of stones."

JC grins, eyes sparkling. "I know! Isn't it great?" He bends down to peer at the stones, and waves his hands. "Look at the harmonic flow. I think it's a little like the melody to Space Cowboy. But in a visual form. See?"

"I tell you man, all I see is stones. And um." Chris swallows. "A lot more of your ass than I was seeing before you bent over."

JC stands up again, and nudges Chris. "Go on. Rake something. Just clear your mind and let the pattern find you."

"I'd rather find out more about your thong," Chris protests, but JC shakes his head and points to the stones. "Rake," he insists, and Chris sighs.

"Now," JC says, standing back, "just concentrate on feeling. Let the rake be your guide."

Chris can't help the snort of laughter. "Let the rake be my guide? Oh man, I can't believe I'm even doing this." He looks at JC. "Why the hell am I doing this, anyway? How'd you get me to agree to this? How do you do that, Chasez?"

"My ass. In a thong." JC shimmies his hips, and Chris feels his mouth go dry. Oh yeah. That's it. His ass in a thong. Chris thinks he'd probably rake a mountain of stones for that sight. I'm a weak, weak man. He sighs heavily and starts to rake.

JC pats him on the back. "You rock, Chris. While you do that, I'll go get us some beer, ok?" He wanders off, and Chris furtively watches his ass inbetween sweeps of the rake over the stones. He thinks that when he rules the world-- which should be anytime now, if Lance's plans come to fruition-- he's going to insist that JC wears a thong all the time. Fur-lined ones in winter, and gauzy-spangled ones in summertime. Chris smiles happily and wriggles the rake a little, making a swooping swirling line. This is actually kinda fun, he thinks, and the tip of his tongue pokes out between his teeth as he concentrates on getting his pattern lined up so it's symmetrical.

By the time JC comes back with the beer, Chris is so engrossed in what he's doing he doesn't notice him at first. Not until JC's right beside him, pressed close, his arms wrapped round Chris' waist, humming happily in Chris' ear. "Oh, Chris," he says, and Chris can hear the smile in his voice.

"You like it?" Chris steps back, and lays the rake down on the ground, making sure he doesn't disturb any of the stones. "Cos, you know, I'm kinda proud of it myself."

"I love it." JC nuzzles his neck as they stand there looking at Chris' carefully raked pattern. A perfectly symmetrical heart shape, with "Chris loves JC" written in swooping letters inside it.

Chris turns his head to whisper against JC's mouth. "Because I do."

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