“She’s colourful,” Tanner said, dismayed at how lackluster he sounded. He blamed it on his exhaustion and leftover frustrations from the days before. Scanning the menu from top to bottom, he just couldn’t focus properly. He wasn’t hungry at all, so nothing there appealed to him. He just wanted a caffeine injection. Over the top of the menu, he met Lance’s gaze. Lance was looking at him, head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed in contemplation. He was still smiling, but it was more of a distracted smile, not as warm and open as it had been earlier.
“Like I was saying, the pancakes are amazing. Blueberry is the bomb! Sometimes they have ones with rainbow sprinkles, but I think those are only served during Pride month, so they’re probably not available right now—” he stopped, looking at Tanner expectantly, hell, almost daringly. Tanner shrugged lightly, barely comprehending any of Lance’s comments. “Blueberry sounds great,” he replied while staring blankly at the menu.
“Steak and egg platters are pretty good too. We can always get a few different things and split them between us if you want to. I don’t mind sharing. It’s up to you.”
Tanner looked up then, startled to find Lance’s blue eyes focused entirely on him. Tanner fought the instinctive urge to look away, afraid Lance might detect something in his eyes other than lack of sleep.
“Sure. We can share. Why don’t you pick out your favorites. I trust you,” he answered, sending a determinedlycheerful smile in Lance’s direction. Lance smiled back and then waved Kathya over to their table. He placed an order for several different platters while she organized their place settings, setting down a carafe of fresh coffee with two purple cow mugs.
Tanner eased back in his seat and closed his eyes, needing a few minutes of relaxation. The light chatter of the morning rush and the smell of coffee dulled his edginess and soothed him.
“Tanner?”
Startled awake by Lance’s voice, Tanner realized he’d dozed off while Kathya was setting up the table with creamers and condiments.
“Dude, when’s the last time you got any real sleep? You look—”
“Like shit?” Tanner joked, shifting around in his seat, embarrassed to be caught sleeping.
“Exhausted.” Lance finished his sentence with a worried frown as he studied Tanner’s features.
Tanner leaned his forehead on his right hand as he stared down at the tabletop. Suddenly, his eyes stung with tears, extreme exhaustion and Lance’s concern overwhelming him. He fought for control. How fucking pathetic. He was sitting in a quaint little diner that smelled of fried bread, maple syrup, and coffee, sharing a table with a stellar friend, and he wanted to bawl his eyes out like a fucking baby.
“Tanner,” Lance repeated, gently placing his hand on his forearm. The physical contact was unexpectedly comforting and grounding at the same time.
Emotion welled up in the back of his throat. He swallowed against it, struggling to keep it in.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Keeping his focus on the tabletop, he knew if he looked up that Lance would see his tears and probably get the wrong idea. He’d think Tanner was weak or—wait, wasn’t he? Weak? Here he was, trying his best not to cry because he was a little sleep deprived. That’s all it was, surely.
“I’m sorry,” Tanner said around a lump in his throat.
“Fuck the apology. When’s the last time you slept?”
He thought about bullshitting his way through this, but he didn’t think he’d be very convincing. Besides, Lance had shown him nothing but kindness and unwavering support. He owed him the truth.
“I never really sleep that well, but I haven’t had any decent sleep since—Monday, I think.”
“What the hell? How come?”
“Kinda complicated—” he tried to downplay it.
“I have time,” Lance assured him, gaze steady and intense.
“Lots of little stupid things, I guess. I just can’t seem to—relax.” He gave a quick shrug and grimaced. “I tried earplugs, but I can’t—it makes me feel too vulnerable, so—” he shrugged again. He didn’t want to get into it. Didn’t want to talk about the fiery explosions and endless nightmares of being locked up in a dark cell. He would just end up losing his shit again and that was the very last thing either one of them wanted.
“Alright—” Lance said, tentatively extending a hand towards him in reassurance and gently patting him on the arm. “Alright. That’s—that’s rough, by anyone’s standards.” He nodded sympathetically. “Okay, how about making a deal with me?”
Tanner shook his head and rolled his eyes. He tried to summon the strength to protest whatever Lance might say next. He didn’t want Lance to feel like he needed to take care of him. Tanner could take care of himself. If he wanted a caretaker, he’dhave called Cam. He didn’t want to be a burden to Lance. Never to Lance—
“You promised to help me with the house, right? So, let’s get real. You can’t do that if you’re falling asleep standing up. So—how about this for now? You ease back in your seat again, close your eyes until the food gets here, then you scarf down a few thousand calories, so I won’t be worried you’re wasting away. When we’re done here, we drive back to my place so you can get some peace and quiet on my couch for a few hours.”
Tanner shook his head. It was too much. It wasn’t Lance’s fucking job to scrape up pieces of him off the floor and put him back together. And yet—
“Why not? Come on, I’m doing it for me, really. I need your help, and you’re totally, abso-fucking-lutely useless to me when you’re dead tired,” Tanner wasn’t sure how Lance managed to be so upbeat and charming all the time, but he found it incredibly difficult to resist him. He wanted to argue with him. He really did. But the fight drained out of him as he took in Lance’s expression and considered his reasoning. “Okay,” he relented, with a quick nod. “Thank you,” he added, his voice cracking a little at the end.
