(Ha...my first Evo slash, *squeaks*. It's a Scott/Lance because I love that pairing. This is a late, LATE birthday present to myself that didn't turn out exactly how I planned it, but I think it's as good as it's going to get. So, I'm happy. Don't like slash? Don't read. I own nothing in this story. Have fun! ^.~)
Breathless and Waiting
By: ThatGirl
It was an uncommon thing.
The dark-haired senior leaned casually against the side of the brick building. It was getting warmer and the sun laced beads of sweat over his upper lip. He didn't wipe them away though. Every now and again his slick tongue would peek up over his top lip and lick clean the salty trail tracing just beneath his nose.
Lance failed to admit to anyone that he was waiting. Some students trod slowly past him as he shifted, uncomfortably, against the heated bricks. Most of his other peers tried to avoid his intense gaze as he judged every one of them. Asking, wordlessly, if they were the one he was looking for.
Unintentionally, Lance's hands twitched in the heat and silent need to be holding something. Before it had been a need to hold cigarettes, recently it'd been a need to hold a hand, a face, a gaze.
The double doors opened and Lance's breath caught in his throat. It was a foolish, sharp reaction to a feeling lost to time.
A dark-skinned student came out first. Then, a breathtaking young man strode through the doors. His walk was smooth and a continuous flow, like rippling water. His blue eyes cast a look that stabbed Lance in the chest viciously. The young man gave a quiet smirk that wasn't all to himself, as if to reinstate the fact that he could still send shudders through Lance's body. The young man turned his head, brushing one hand through his snowy hair whilst slipping the other one into his dark-skinned companion's hand. Lance stared after.
A fluke, a short-lived moment of loveless passion had entangled the two teammates for an evening. Breathless seconds after they had separated, the sophomore had glared coldly at Lance and told him that was all it had been. There was nothing more between them and there never would be again.
That was the evening Lance had tried to relinquish the hold the white-haired gypsy had stabbed into him.
Lance watched the two sophomores walk away. Hands intertwined. Fingers laced. Lance tore his eyes away, his heart still following the quickening gait of his ex-lover.
He continued to wait. The sun was still beating against his all-ready tanned face. His brown hair was thinned with sweat slipping down each strand. He tried to shake some of the wetness off. His throat was dry. His hands were slick with the tickling sweat curling around his forearms and dripping off his finger tips.
The flood of students exiting the school had lessened to just a trickle of a few downtrodden slackers. They continued to step over the hot concrete and asphalt, desperately trying to relieve the pressure of the heat on their backs. The summer's intoxicating grip was suffocating everyone as the weeks dragged closer to the last day.
The last day. The thought of it drug out more fear than relief in the senior. His cheeks flushed as he'd remembered Summers' searing smirk as his non-existent eyes had scanned over the letter.
"So you're going to be a 'college man'? They'll let anybody in these days, I guess." Scott had mocked. Lance growled, humiliated, as he snatched away the acceptance letter out of Scott's hands.
"They let a prick like YOU in didn't they?" Lance shot back, his hands shaking as they gripped onto the paper. Scott's features visibly tightened and his eyebrows furrowed. Lance's heartbeat quickened.
"Congratulations, Alvers. You should be proud you managed to get your grades up enough to get accepted. Now how do you expect to pay for it, I wonder. You can't pay in stolen lunch money, you know." Scott sneered. His words cut deeper than he probably realized as Lance's knees weakened at the prospect of once again battling the poverty he had grown so accustomed too. His face, already red from his embarrassment, heated in anger as he slammed Scott's back against the lockers.
"What would you know about money anyway? The good Professor pays for any goddamned thing your spoiled little heart desires. The only thing he can't seem to buy is a fuckin' operation to remove your lips from his ass." Lance hissed.
The fight that had broken out afterwards had been fierce. Scott's fist flew over Lance's body in confusingly skilled blows. Every motion had been a practiced sweep of hitting pressure points. It set Lance's nerves on fire. His own blows were a result of years of training on the streets. Hard, quick, and meant to knockout. They were more evenly matched than they wanted to admit. They were more alike than they wanted to admit.
No one had stopped them, no one had come. No one had waited up for them. Everyone had left.
As they stared at one another and heaved deep breaths after countering barrage after barrage, the two looked each other over. Lance noted the endearing way Scott's bangs touched the top of his sunglasses. As his rival inhaled, Lance couldn't help his eyes study the attractively fit frame and now dirt and blood stained clothing. Lance's eyes traveled up to see into his own mirrored reflection in the sunglasses. He was bloody, blackened, his hair tangled and wild, and his eyes had an indescribable look in them. He lowered his fists. He stared at Scott. He bit the trickle of blood dripping off his lower lip and he turned and walked away. His voice caught in his throat and he couldn't even find the strength to bark back an excuse.
The double doors burst open again clanging metallically against the wall. Lance snapped his head to see a pretty girl hop down the steps. He didn't have the energy to give her a glare as the memory had taken any strength he had had.
Lance looked at his watch. 3:00. He tipped his head back in frustration against the grating roughness. It probably wasn't worth the wait. His head lulled gently to the side against the bricks as the sun relentlessly strangled his skin.
He slid against the wall till he crouched beneath the biting heat. He lazily covered his head in a vague attempt at protection, his forearms glimmering impressively with a sheen of sweat. It coated him thinly and caused him to gape into the space between his knees for air. As much as he tried to keep control of himself and every part of him, sometimes the world overwhelmed him.
Lance couldn't even seem to conquer the heat. It amused him to think that as much control as he wanted, as both of them wanted, they could never achieve it for they couldn't control anything necessary.
People can't be controlled. People go off on their own and they travel distances and they leave. People can't be stopped from going away. Only one person, themselves, can stop. Can stay. Can wait.
But people, people can't be controlled.
So he rested his head against his knees in unspoken assurance that what had happened couldn't be stopped.
It was after drama try outs on the day Scott had approached him without malice or spite. Lance had been watching the performance, uninterested, from the back row. He was bored and unenthusiastic. Lance's eyes were mostly on the multi-talented little speedster moving across the stage with an unbeatable shinning essence. Lance chewed his lower lip
The stage was empty when Scott walked in. Lance was still looking at the curtains and at the spot where the gifted sophomore had once stood. Scott sat beside him and Lance's whole body tightened and itched.
At first Scott said nothing and Lance noted the simply calm pace of the older boy's breathing. Then he noticed how erratic his own breathing was.
"You've been quiet." Scott stated. His sudden words almost made Lance jump out of his seat. He kept his composure and shrugged.
"Haven't had much to say." He replied.
Scott nodded in response. But he didn't move.
Lance shifted unsure of whether or not he wanted to leave or wait until Scott left. He wanted to ask if Scott had tried out or why he was staying after. No one else from either team had remained, not even hang around to gather congratulations or praise.
Lance couldn't force himself to say barely anything to the older boy since the fight. Even in combat he could never find one insult to throw at his rival. The ground wouldn't even shake. Only he shook. The two of them would stare at one another in a silent understanding and they would turn to attack someone else.
The lights turned off on stage.
They were in darkness.
Scott's sunglasses strangely shone red even though the area seemed entirely covered in blackness. Lance's hands twitched uncomfortably and his throat felt dry. He wanted to move, to lean over to the senior next to him. Lance sat, glued to his seat, his breath still erratic.
A foot moved and touched against Lance's. The brown-eyed mutant straightened. He didn't want to blink. They sat there in silence, Scott's foot resting side-by-side with Lance's. They sat there until the director told them that try outs were over and that they could leave. They sat there even after the director had gone. Until the lights came back on again and Lance's white knuckles were blatant against the black arm rests of the theatre seating. Until Scott cleared his throat, stood up, and this time, he was the one to walk away without saying anything.
The event may have meant nothing to anybody else. But Lance knew differently. It was why he remained after school lingering against the wall. Everything was drawing to a close. Lance could feel it in the oppressive heat all around him. He could feel his shaky world dying in a way that it drowned his lungs as if they were coated in molasses.
Lance heard shoes pace over hot asphalt.
"What are you doing?"
Lance didn't have time to catch himself as his head jerked up and he stared into the reflective lenses of Scott's sunglasses. There was a light smile playing upon Scott's lips. It drove Lance near to the edge.
Scott said nothing more as he stared at Lance's bewildered face.
"What do you care?" Lance choked out, trying to stand without stumbling over the fixed gaze.
"Why do you answer my questions with more questions?" Scott played on carefully. Lance's eyes turned to an aloof smugness as he leaned back, starring at Summers.
"What do you care?" Was his response. Scott smiled and began to leave. "Wait." Lance breathed.
Scott stopped but didn't turn to look at him.
Lance's hand grasped onto the older boy's shoulder tightly. He leaned and whispered hotly into Scott's right ear.
"Follow me."
He turned quickly and walked away from Summers. Lance opened his mouth widely to try to breathe, to try to get air inside him. But everything around him was too thick. It was like inhaling syrup through a straw.
He tried to walk casually but he was sure Scott could see the unbalanced wobble in his gait. Lance knew that if the other one did see it, he could claim it was from crouching. Somehow, he knew Scott would know the truth though.
Cautiously, Lance stepped inside a small shaded alcove behind the school. From a distance no one could see inside unless the doors opened and the sunlight reflected off of them. Otherwise it was darker than night. Lance breathed in relief from the coolness that engulfed him in the shade, if only momentarily. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"What is it?" Scott's tone was sharp as he stepped into the dark privacy. His shades caught the glare from the sun and shone, fleetingly into Lance's eyes.
"Do you know you've spoken in nothing but questions?"
"Just answer me."
Lance stared briefly at the soccer team practicing across the field. He turned back to Scott and jerked his hands abruptly up to cup Scott's face.
Scott jolted back in surprise. Lance's fingers traced over the older senior's cheeks. He brought his lips to hover in front of Scott's. He spoke smoothly.
"Close your eyes." His voice was light, nearly unheard.
"What?"
"Close your eyes." Lance repeated desperately holding himself back from capturing the slightly parted lips in front of him.
"Why?"
"Close your eyes." Lance instructed again coolly.
"No, I'm not doing anything unless I know why." Scott's stubbornness sent imperceptible quivers inside of the brown-eyed boy. Lance's fingers trod lightly over Scott's blushing cheeks. He was staring into Scott's lenses unblinkingly trying to emanate a feeling of relaxed comfort. Lance leaned in a little closer and let his top lip brush against Scott's in not quite a kiss. It was such a light touch.
Scott closed his eyes.
Lance's fingers rubbed over Scott's jaw line before climbing upwards and gently lifting Scott's sunglasses away from his eyes.
"Hey what are you—"
"Shhhhh." Lance cut him off, holding the shades in his fingers. Scott began to shift uncomfortably, his lip quivering with worry. Lance watched with a deep fascination as Scott's eyebrows began to furrow in concern and his eyes moved wildly beneath the shield of his eyelids. Lance could only imagine the thoughts banking through his head like gun shots.
The lips remained close to one another. They shared breath in the darkened shadows without touching. Lance's fingers still felt obsessively over Scott's cheekbones and jaw. Their breaths were audible and hot. Everything felt hot. Scott didn't move forward or back. He remained patiently still for the inevitable kiss.
First, Lance pushed slightly closer to Scott's lips and almost let their top lips brush again. He pulled back a little either teasingly or unsure, Scott couldn't tell. The heat of their closeness was maddening. Then, the younger boy moved closer again. Scott tensed and prepared.
Lance tilted his own head up and gently kissed one of Scott's eyelids and then the other feeling the cautious uncertainty emitting from them.
He went back and forth between the two placing single, careful, slow kisses on each of the closed lids. The touches were so soft it felt like hardly anything. Only the heat and presence of Lance confirmed to Scott that it was more than just the wind blowing against his naked eyes.
Lance breathed. He tilted his head back down to be leveled with Scott's. The older senior looked confused but mildly comforted.
The sunglasses were returned smoothly hooking onto the backs of Scott's ears perfectly.
Scott opened his eyes.
"What was that about?" The bespectacled boy glowered in a violated insecurity. Lance didn't say anything his hands trembling again. Scott looked at him. "I don't understand."
"You wanted an answer." Lance nodded speaking suddenly. Scott stared at the younger one in confusion. He blinked. Lance waited encouragingly before speaking again, "Now I need to know what yours is."
Scott stared blankly into Lance's earnest eyes. He paused and turned his head, looking at the ground and scanning it. He looked back to Lance. Scott opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, wordlessly. Lance let his fingers glide over Scott's cheek and jaw, pausing whilst he cupped the face. He then reached down to the other boy's aimless hands and let his fingers touch against Scott's. Lance's eyes didn't waver from staring into the sunglasses. Scott wasn't saying anything. A dumbfounded look on his face.
Lance didn't speak either as he felt Scott's hands twitch against his own. He waited for the answer.
Breathless and Waiting
By: ThatGirl
It was an uncommon thing.
The dark-haired senior leaned casually against the side of the brick building. It was getting warmer and the sun laced beads of sweat over his upper lip. He didn't wipe them away though. Every now and again his slick tongue would peek up over his top lip and lick clean the salty trail tracing just beneath his nose.
Lance failed to admit to anyone that he was waiting. Some students trod slowly past him as he shifted, uncomfortably, against the heated bricks. Most of his other peers tried to avoid his intense gaze as he judged every one of them. Asking, wordlessly, if they were the one he was looking for.
Unintentionally, Lance's hands twitched in the heat and silent need to be holding something. Before it had been a need to hold cigarettes, recently it'd been a need to hold a hand, a face, a gaze.
The double doors opened and Lance's breath caught in his throat. It was a foolish, sharp reaction to a feeling lost to time.
A dark-skinned student came out first. Then, a breathtaking young man strode through the doors. His walk was smooth and a continuous flow, like rippling water. His blue eyes cast a look that stabbed Lance in the chest viciously. The young man gave a quiet smirk that wasn't all to himself, as if to reinstate the fact that he could still send shudders through Lance's body. The young man turned his head, brushing one hand through his snowy hair whilst slipping the other one into his dark-skinned companion's hand. Lance stared after.
A fluke, a short-lived moment of loveless passion had entangled the two teammates for an evening. Breathless seconds after they had separated, the sophomore had glared coldly at Lance and told him that was all it had been. There was nothing more between them and there never would be again.
That was the evening Lance had tried to relinquish the hold the white-haired gypsy had stabbed into him.
Lance watched the two sophomores walk away. Hands intertwined. Fingers laced. Lance tore his eyes away, his heart still following the quickening gait of his ex-lover.
He continued to wait. The sun was still beating against his all-ready tanned face. His brown hair was thinned with sweat slipping down each strand. He tried to shake some of the wetness off. His throat was dry. His hands were slick with the tickling sweat curling around his forearms and dripping off his finger tips.
The flood of students exiting the school had lessened to just a trickle of a few downtrodden slackers. They continued to step over the hot concrete and asphalt, desperately trying to relieve the pressure of the heat on their backs. The summer's intoxicating grip was suffocating everyone as the weeks dragged closer to the last day.
The last day. The thought of it drug out more fear than relief in the senior. His cheeks flushed as he'd remembered Summers' searing smirk as his non-existent eyes had scanned over the letter.
"So you're going to be a 'college man'? They'll let anybody in these days, I guess." Scott had mocked. Lance growled, humiliated, as he snatched away the acceptance letter out of Scott's hands.
"They let a prick like YOU in didn't they?" Lance shot back, his hands shaking as they gripped onto the paper. Scott's features visibly tightened and his eyebrows furrowed. Lance's heartbeat quickened.
"Congratulations, Alvers. You should be proud you managed to get your grades up enough to get accepted. Now how do you expect to pay for it, I wonder. You can't pay in stolen lunch money, you know." Scott sneered. His words cut deeper than he probably realized as Lance's knees weakened at the prospect of once again battling the poverty he had grown so accustomed too. His face, already red from his embarrassment, heated in anger as he slammed Scott's back against the lockers.
"What would you know about money anyway? The good Professor pays for any goddamned thing your spoiled little heart desires. The only thing he can't seem to buy is a fuckin' operation to remove your lips from his ass." Lance hissed.
The fight that had broken out afterwards had been fierce. Scott's fist flew over Lance's body in confusingly skilled blows. Every motion had been a practiced sweep of hitting pressure points. It set Lance's nerves on fire. His own blows were a result of years of training on the streets. Hard, quick, and meant to knockout. They were more evenly matched than they wanted to admit. They were more alike than they wanted to admit.
No one had stopped them, no one had come. No one had waited up for them. Everyone had left.
As they stared at one another and heaved deep breaths after countering barrage after barrage, the two looked each other over. Lance noted the endearing way Scott's bangs touched the top of his sunglasses. As his rival inhaled, Lance couldn't help his eyes study the attractively fit frame and now dirt and blood stained clothing. Lance's eyes traveled up to see into his own mirrored reflection in the sunglasses. He was bloody, blackened, his hair tangled and wild, and his eyes had an indescribable look in them. He lowered his fists. He stared at Scott. He bit the trickle of blood dripping off his lower lip and he turned and walked away. His voice caught in his throat and he couldn't even find the strength to bark back an excuse.
The double doors burst open again clanging metallically against the wall. Lance snapped his head to see a pretty girl hop down the steps. He didn't have the energy to give her a glare as the memory had taken any strength he had had.
Lance looked at his watch. 3:00. He tipped his head back in frustration against the grating roughness. It probably wasn't worth the wait. His head lulled gently to the side against the bricks as the sun relentlessly strangled his skin.
He slid against the wall till he crouched beneath the biting heat. He lazily covered his head in a vague attempt at protection, his forearms glimmering impressively with a sheen of sweat. It coated him thinly and caused him to gape into the space between his knees for air. As much as he tried to keep control of himself and every part of him, sometimes the world overwhelmed him.
Lance couldn't even seem to conquer the heat. It amused him to think that as much control as he wanted, as both of them wanted, they could never achieve it for they couldn't control anything necessary.
People can't be controlled. People go off on their own and they travel distances and they leave. People can't be stopped from going away. Only one person, themselves, can stop. Can stay. Can wait.
But people, people can't be controlled.
So he rested his head against his knees in unspoken assurance that what had happened couldn't be stopped.
It was after drama try outs on the day Scott had approached him without malice or spite. Lance had been watching the performance, uninterested, from the back row. He was bored and unenthusiastic. Lance's eyes were mostly on the multi-talented little speedster moving across the stage with an unbeatable shinning essence. Lance chewed his lower lip
The stage was empty when Scott walked in. Lance was still looking at the curtains and at the spot where the gifted sophomore had once stood. Scott sat beside him and Lance's whole body tightened and itched.
At first Scott said nothing and Lance noted the simply calm pace of the older boy's breathing. Then he noticed how erratic his own breathing was.
"You've been quiet." Scott stated. His sudden words almost made Lance jump out of his seat. He kept his composure and shrugged.
"Haven't had much to say." He replied.
Scott nodded in response. But he didn't move.
Lance shifted unsure of whether or not he wanted to leave or wait until Scott left. He wanted to ask if Scott had tried out or why he was staying after. No one else from either team had remained, not even hang around to gather congratulations or praise.
Lance couldn't force himself to say barely anything to the older boy since the fight. Even in combat he could never find one insult to throw at his rival. The ground wouldn't even shake. Only he shook. The two of them would stare at one another in a silent understanding and they would turn to attack someone else.
The lights turned off on stage.
They were in darkness.
Scott's sunglasses strangely shone red even though the area seemed entirely covered in blackness. Lance's hands twitched uncomfortably and his throat felt dry. He wanted to move, to lean over to the senior next to him. Lance sat, glued to his seat, his breath still erratic.
A foot moved and touched against Lance's. The brown-eyed mutant straightened. He didn't want to blink. They sat there in silence, Scott's foot resting side-by-side with Lance's. They sat there until the director told them that try outs were over and that they could leave. They sat there even after the director had gone. Until the lights came back on again and Lance's white knuckles were blatant against the black arm rests of the theatre seating. Until Scott cleared his throat, stood up, and this time, he was the one to walk away without saying anything.
The event may have meant nothing to anybody else. But Lance knew differently. It was why he remained after school lingering against the wall. Everything was drawing to a close. Lance could feel it in the oppressive heat all around him. He could feel his shaky world dying in a way that it drowned his lungs as if they were coated in molasses.
Lance heard shoes pace over hot asphalt.
"What are you doing?"
Lance didn't have time to catch himself as his head jerked up and he stared into the reflective lenses of Scott's sunglasses. There was a light smile playing upon Scott's lips. It drove Lance near to the edge.
Scott said nothing more as he stared at Lance's bewildered face.
"What do you care?" Lance choked out, trying to stand without stumbling over the fixed gaze.
"Why do you answer my questions with more questions?" Scott played on carefully. Lance's eyes turned to an aloof smugness as he leaned back, starring at Summers.
"What do you care?" Was his response. Scott smiled and began to leave. "Wait." Lance breathed.
Scott stopped but didn't turn to look at him.
Lance's hand grasped onto the older boy's shoulder tightly. He leaned and whispered hotly into Scott's right ear.
"Follow me."
He turned quickly and walked away from Summers. Lance opened his mouth widely to try to breathe, to try to get air inside him. But everything around him was too thick. It was like inhaling syrup through a straw.
He tried to walk casually but he was sure Scott could see the unbalanced wobble in his gait. Lance knew that if the other one did see it, he could claim it was from crouching. Somehow, he knew Scott would know the truth though.
Cautiously, Lance stepped inside a small shaded alcove behind the school. From a distance no one could see inside unless the doors opened and the sunlight reflected off of them. Otherwise it was darker than night. Lance breathed in relief from the coolness that engulfed him in the shade, if only momentarily. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"What is it?" Scott's tone was sharp as he stepped into the dark privacy. His shades caught the glare from the sun and shone, fleetingly into Lance's eyes.
"Do you know you've spoken in nothing but questions?"
"Just answer me."
Lance stared briefly at the soccer team practicing across the field. He turned back to Scott and jerked his hands abruptly up to cup Scott's face.
Scott jolted back in surprise. Lance's fingers traced over the older senior's cheeks. He brought his lips to hover in front of Scott's. He spoke smoothly.
"Close your eyes." His voice was light, nearly unheard.
"What?"
"Close your eyes." Lance repeated desperately holding himself back from capturing the slightly parted lips in front of him.
"Why?"
"Close your eyes." Lance instructed again coolly.
"No, I'm not doing anything unless I know why." Scott's stubbornness sent imperceptible quivers inside of the brown-eyed boy. Lance's fingers trod lightly over Scott's blushing cheeks. He was staring into Scott's lenses unblinkingly trying to emanate a feeling of relaxed comfort. Lance leaned in a little closer and let his top lip brush against Scott's in not quite a kiss. It was such a light touch.
Scott closed his eyes.
Lance's fingers rubbed over Scott's jaw line before climbing upwards and gently lifting Scott's sunglasses away from his eyes.
"Hey what are you—"
"Shhhhh." Lance cut him off, holding the shades in his fingers. Scott began to shift uncomfortably, his lip quivering with worry. Lance watched with a deep fascination as Scott's eyebrows began to furrow in concern and his eyes moved wildly beneath the shield of his eyelids. Lance could only imagine the thoughts banking through his head like gun shots.
The lips remained close to one another. They shared breath in the darkened shadows without touching. Lance's fingers still felt obsessively over Scott's cheekbones and jaw. Their breaths were audible and hot. Everything felt hot. Scott didn't move forward or back. He remained patiently still for the inevitable kiss.
First, Lance pushed slightly closer to Scott's lips and almost let their top lips brush again. He pulled back a little either teasingly or unsure, Scott couldn't tell. The heat of their closeness was maddening. Then, the younger boy moved closer again. Scott tensed and prepared.
Lance tilted his own head up and gently kissed one of Scott's eyelids and then the other feeling the cautious uncertainty emitting from them.
He went back and forth between the two placing single, careful, slow kisses on each of the closed lids. The touches were so soft it felt like hardly anything. Only the heat and presence of Lance confirmed to Scott that it was more than just the wind blowing against his naked eyes.
Lance breathed. He tilted his head back down to be leveled with Scott's. The older senior looked confused but mildly comforted.
The sunglasses were returned smoothly hooking onto the backs of Scott's ears perfectly.
Scott opened his eyes.
"What was that about?" The bespectacled boy glowered in a violated insecurity. Lance didn't say anything his hands trembling again. Scott looked at him. "I don't understand."
"You wanted an answer." Lance nodded speaking suddenly. Scott stared at the younger one in confusion. He blinked. Lance waited encouragingly before speaking again, "Now I need to know what yours is."
Scott stared blankly into Lance's earnest eyes. He paused and turned his head, looking at the ground and scanning it. He looked back to Lance. Scott opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, wordlessly. Lance let his fingers glide over Scott's cheek and jaw, pausing whilst he cupped the face. He then reached down to the other boy's aimless hands and let his fingers touch against Scott's. Lance's eyes didn't waver from staring into the sunglasses. Scott wasn't saying anything. A dumbfounded look on his face.
Lance didn't speak either as he felt Scott's hands twitch against his own. He waited for the answer.