Breaking the news sooner rather than later was for the best. Especially now that Tanner was living with him. But Lance decided to wait until after his mother’s 4thof July party to talk to her. She always got stressed out when she threw parties. Maybe a day or two after this one, he could drive down for dinner and tell her. That should work, if they could just make it through her 4thof July bash in one piece. Tanner wasn’t a fan of parties. Not since he’d made it back to the US. Lance himself had looked far from thrilled about going, but since his mother had called him no fewer than four times in the past week to make sure he’d be attending, cancelling was not an option. Tanner had tried to bow out of it because fireworks were a real problem, but Lance had checked with his mother, and she’d assured him there wouldn’t be any. So, now they were both stuck going to the party. Yippee!
When Tanner awoke the morning of the 4th, it was to a cold, empty bed. After pulling on some sleep pants, he headed downstairs. His left leg was especially achy and stiff. Moving at a snail’s pace, he descended the stairs with extreme caution. He hated that constant feeling of precariousness every time he put weight on it. Unfortunately, he might have to consider some injections like Dr. Williston had suggested. No way should he bethisachy after merely sleeping for seven hours. Mulling this over, he limped into the kitchen to find Lance at the stove.
Lance turned and said, “Good morning, sunshine!” with an excess of enthusiasm considering the hour, before returning to flipping something in a skillet.
“Mornin’,” Tanner replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes and smiling back at his boyfriend. He still wasn’t used to saying boyfriend, but it was getting easier now that they lived together.
“You’re up bright and early,” Tanner said, padding over and wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist so he could lean his chin on his shoulder and see what was in the skillet.
“I promised my mother I’d bring biscuits to the party tonight. I had to get up early today to get those going,” Lance said, as he flipped three pancakes.
“Yeah, well—slight problem, Rain Man, those are not biscuits!” Tanner observed with a laugh as Lance transferred the pancakes to a plate next to the stove.
“Look at you using your big boy deduction skills,” Lance said, voice mockingly sweet. “Those are for breakfast,” he said, pointing at the pancakes. “Biscuits are in the oven.”
“Ahhh,” Tanner said, kissing the side of Lance’s neck. He felt momentarily dizzy as his head swam with warmth. It was still so new to him—this peculiar flutter in his stomach—this sense of absolute safety when he held Lance.
“You sleep okay?” Lance asked, turning to face Tanner.
“Like a log,” Tanner declared. He leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly to Lance’s, feeling an electric zing all the way down to his toes.
“I woke up a couple of times last night, and heard you talking in your sleep,” he said, noticeably concerned.
Tanner really didn’t want to get into this. He just wanted to get some coffee and have breakfast. No drama, please. Calmly, he stepped away from Lance.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing that since I was a kid.”
“It was more like yelling, actually.” Lance’s voice was soft and empathetic.
“Maybe it was a sexy dream. I bet you were on your knees and I—”
“Tanner,” Lance interrupted, making Tanner jump slightly as he realized the man was now standing behind him. He turned around to see Lance smiling.
“I don’t need details. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lance reassured him, then gave him a soft kiss.
Tanner heaved a sigh of relief.
“I’m great,” he replied, giving Lance a quick kiss of gratitude.
Tanner finished making coffee for himself and Lance, moving over to the counter where Lance was serving breakfast. Lance had really outdone himself this time.
“Holy smokes! What’s all this?” he asked, smiling as he gazed in wonder at the stacks of pancakes adorned with whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries, with rainbow sprinkles on top like confetti.
“I knew there was brain damage,” Lance muttered. “Those are pancakes, honey. You remember? You saw me make them.”
He flicked Lance’s ear as he sat down next to him and heard a very satisfying yelp from his chef.
“It’s the 4thof July! I have to honour my veteran! Patriotic pancakes seemed like the right choice.” He began amusing himself by shaking his fist in the air to the time-honored chant, “U.S.A, U.S.A., U.S.A.” like he was a spectator at the Olympics.
“Right. Cuz in the Army, when they wanted to commend us, they busted out the pancakes and served them with fruit and sprinkles!” he joked, taking a sip of coffee. “But seriously, thank you, these look great,” he added with a warm smile.
“My absolute pleasure,” Lance replied, just as Tanner dug in.
“Jesus,” he said in disbelief. “These are fucking amazing!” he declared a few bites later. Lance laughed and nodded, clearly pleased.
“Glad you enjoy ‘em,” he said, then narrowed his eyes at Tanner and leaned forward. “Come here.”
Tanner arched his eyebrows in confusion but readily obeyed. He watched, crossing his eyes, as Lance reached up and swiped some whipped cream off his nose. He snickered as he brought his thumb to his lips and quickly licked the cream away while maintaining eye contact with Tanner.
