Lance was losing his goddamn mind.

Travis was not the sort of man known for being in touch with his emotional side. One time, when someone had brought their pet bunny to class—he couldn’t remember who it was or why, but they had—everyone had cooed over the adorable animal. Even Luke had looked almost teary-eyed when he’d gotten to hold it, stroking the soft fur and whispering that he would gladly die for the bunny.

Luke was a bit of a melodramatic diva in high school. Although Lance would die before he said that out loud, mostly because Luke would then kill him.

But Travis, out of all the class, had just looked at the bunny, went, “oh, cool,” and had gone back to doodling funny aliens to make Lance laugh. He hadn’t wanted to hold the bunny or coo over it, and he certainly hadn’t offered to die for it.

So, really, Lance was used to Travis being the kind of man who wasn’t all that good at communicating how he felt. Travis was usually uncannily good at knowing when Lance was upset though, and it wasn’t that Lance was upset, necessarily, but… but how the hell was he supposed to function when Travis kept acting like this?

The mess was bad enough. He should have expected that, really, but c’mon. Travis was a grown-ass man who’d been living on his own for how long? Lance could be affronted if he wanted to be.

He’d woken up that morning, an hour and a half earlier than usual, and had realized immediately that he had not realized all that he was in for. And not just in the way that Luke had meant last night, but in the very annoying roommate kind of way. Lance hadn’t had a roommate since college and certainly not one who left water all over the floor of the bathroom, dishes piled up in the kitchen, and clothes in the living room.

That had been plenty annoying, but at least he could confront Travis about it and make Travis do better. He could tell by the stricken look on Travis’s face, the one that Lance was pretty sure only he’d ever seen, that Travis was genuinely upset about making Lance upset—even if all he could muster verbally was a generic ‘sorry,’

What he couldn’t confront Travis about was the rest of it, the stuff that Luke had, annoyingly, predicted.

For example, did Travis have to throw his arm around Lance while they were on the couch watching a movie?

And did he also have to sit so close to Lance, stealing food off of his plate and letting their knees bump, and walking around shirtless while he was scrounging for another shirt of Luke’s to wear and complaining about how goddamn small they were?

Lance was starting to wonder if he’d done something awful in a past life and now this was his punishment.

It wasn’t like Travis was suddenly behaving differently, either. He always threw his arm around Lance every chance he got, which was convenient given their height difference. He always sat right up next to Lance so that their legs bumped into each other. He always stole Lance’s food, because Travis could probably win a pie-eating contest if he put his mind to it, and Lance had been told more than once that he ate like a bird.

So, really, it wasn’t so much that all of this closeness was new to Lance. It was that he had underestimated how it would feel when it was the two of them alone in close quarters. Out at the bar, or getting lunch somewhere, meeting up for their friendly football games on the weekend, they had other people around them. It felt fine. But now, Lance’s traitorous heart couldn’t help but paint it all in another light.

It made it all feel more intimate, somehow, now that no one else could see. There was no one to distract Lance from how close they were, or how Travis smelled, or the way Travis would get this small smile on his face when he looked at Lance that always made Lance’s insides melt.

It was all driving him slowly insane.

Having them sleep separately wasn’t helping. Lance was almost painfully aware of Travis in the living room. It was a small apartment, so he had to leave his bedroom and enter the living room in order to go to the bathroom...which meant that he had to walk past Travis. He could hear Travis’s snoring which, okay, it really bothered Lance and he was getting ear plugs, but it was also that he could hear Travis. It was that Travis was just on the other side of a thin wall, one room over.

It would be easy, wouldn’t it, to just say, hey, the mattress is way better in here, just stay in my room...or to do just the opposite and crawl onto the pullout and curl up. Travis always ran hot, like a furnace or something, and Lance knew with their difference in height, it would be easy to just curl up in his arms.

Thinking about that was dangerous territory. Every time he got to wondering about that, he’d remember what would come next: the pitying looks, the talk, the awkwardness afterwards.

No. Lance was not going to deal with that. He wasn’t going to lose Travis as a friend.

He tossed and turned in bed that night, feeling for the first time that it was too big, too empty, too cold. He knew it was all psychological, of course, that it was only because of Travis in the other room that he felt this way. Ordinarily he loved being able to spread out in his big bed. It was just his stupid heart playing tricks on him, reminding him of how much he wanted what he couldn’t have, especially with what he wanted so close by—and yet in a way, farther away than ever.

He drifted off to sleep—he must have, because he woke up in the morning. At least today, he wasn’t woken up by Travis banging around in the kitchen and stomping into the bathroom, muttering to himself and playing videos from the internet on his phone. Honestly. How could someone have such a lack of self-awareness?

Lance listened carefully for sounds in the other room. If he walked in on Travis changing or something, he was going to just have to have a heart attack and die in order to preserve his dignity.

He was aware that he was possibly being a little dramatic about this, yes.

There was the sound of quiet, careful movement coming from the living room. Lance could move around his apartment in utter silence if he wanted to. He’d long since learned which floorboards creaked, and how to shut the bathroom door without it making that snick-click sound as the latch caught, and how to roll his feet so you didn’t hear the shuffling of socks on the hardwood. Travis didn’t know all of those little tricks, so he only succeeded in being mildly quiet.

Lance figured that someone who was changing didn’t walk back and forth across the room like that three times, so he got out of bed and threw on some clothes before going out to see what Travis had gotten himself up to.

He prayed it wasn’t another mess.

Instead, Travis was looking at his phone and walking back and forth across the living room—although as quietly as possible, it seemed.

“Texting your family?” Lance guessed. Travis only got that nervous tic in his jaw when he was dealing with his three older brothers or his dad. It wasn’t that Travis’s family were mean or anything but getting jokingly referred to as ‘the runt of the litter’ for years didn’t exactly do good things for a guy’s self-esteem.

Travis jumped, and Lance couldn’t hold in his answering grin. It was so rare that he got the drop on Travis. “Jesus Christ, man, you scared me.”

“Whoops, sorry” Lance replied, not feeling sorry in the slightest.

“And yeah, just sending out a quick group text to let ‘em know what’s up.”

“A group text?” Lance rolled his eyes. “Trav, you gotta actually call them and let them know that you’re okay.”

“They know I’m fine through a text just as well as through a phone call. Less hassle this way.”

“It’s not about what’s a hassle for you, it’s about what will most reassure them.”

Travis sighed, then waved the phone at Lance, as though Lance could somehow read the text from that far away. “It’s just—you know how they get. They’ll tease me about it more if I’m on the phone with them, and I’d have to take turns calling them one at a time instead of just telling them all at once. Then Dad’ll invite us over for dinner…”

Lance’s heart clenched. He didn’t think that Travis even realized he was doing it half the time, when he said things like ‘us’ or ‘we’ instead of ‘me’ or ‘I’. It was like… Travis just assumed that Lance was going to be there, without actually examining why that assumption was being made or what it meant.

It broke Lance’s heart, in other words. He didn’t know how to bring it up though, for fear of Travis taking it all away.

“The fact that you’ve waited over a day to tell them is bad enough,” he said, instead of all the other words that were cramming up in his throat. “You’ve already sent the text, but we can call them after breakfast, ‘kay?”

Travis sighed, pocketing his phone. “Fine.”

“Way to sound like a surly five-year-old, Trav.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You know, this is why when people take me out on dates I say I don’t want kids. I’ve already got you.”

Travis looked up at him so fast it looked like he might have given himself whiplash. “When have you gone on a date?”

“Um…” Lance thought back. When he’d referenced saying he didn’t want kids because he already had Travis, he was actually thinking of a very specific date, back in sophomore year of college. Long story short, it hadn’t gone well. “Six months ago?”

“Oh Lord.” Travis grabbed a jacket of Luke’s, and then jerked his head at the front door. “C’mon, I owe you breakfast. Or brunch. Whatever it is.”

“I think it’s late enough to qualify as brunch, but we can call it breakfast if you think brunch is too much of a gay cliché.”

“Hardy har har, you should have been voted class clown.”

Lance let Travis get the door for him as they exited, although Lance then had to go around Travis to lock it. “I should get you your own key. I know you’ll only be staying here a few weeks but God knows how long this’ll take. You know contractors always take longer than they say they will, and I don’t want us to have to be paranoid about syncing our schedules.”

“Makes sense,” Travis replied. “Thanks.”

Yeah, made sense. It was just a logic thing. Not like Travis was actually his long-term boyfriend and getting a key as a sign of permanence or anything.

Wow, Lance was starting to sound bitter even to his own ears.

They walked to the café, since they were close enough. Lance figured it was only a matter of time before things became so spread out, the way they inevitably did in suburbia, that they had to start driving to get to the grocery store and things like that. It made him ache a little, to know that the small town they’d grown up in was morphing so drastically. At the same time though, he liked the new additions, like the Bluebird Café.

“Y’know,” Travis admitted, flinging an arm around Lance’s shoulders, “don’t tell Matthew this, because he’ll flay me, but when this place first opened, I thought it was annoying and pretentious and all that?”

“I’m pretty sure Matthew knows you thought that,” Lance replied. “I distinctly remember you yelling something like that at him when you punched him after he slept with both of us.”

“He was a dick to do that,” Travis pointed out.

“Trav, you literally do that all the time. What, can’t take your own medicine?”

“I can take my own medicine just fine,” Travis replied, opening the door to the café for Lance. “It’s you he shouldn’t have been screwing with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Travis just gave him a look, the kind of raised-eyebrow look that said Lance should know what Travis was talking about. Lance shook his head. “Seriously, what does that mean?”

“It means that you aren’t the kind of person who can… handle, a player,” Travis said.

Lance sighed. “You’re a player, I’ve managed to handle you pretty well. And don’t think I didn’t notice that pause there, buster—” He paused as they grabbed a table.

“Look, you’re a sweet guy. You just deserve better than being another notch on someone’s belt, that’s all,” Travis said, grabbing a menu.

“You know, the guys you sleep with are probably just as sweet and deserve better too,” Lance replied. “You can’t get all protective over me and then treat other guys the way you don’t want me to be treated. It’s kind of hypocritical.”

Matthew strode up just then, even though he was the cook and should be in the back making sure things were running smoothly rather than taking orders. “Hey, I saw y’all come in! How’s it goin’?”

Lance gestured at Travis. “Matthew, settle this for us. Is it not hypocritical of Travis—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Travis held up a hand. “First, Matthew, settle this for us, is Lance, or is Lance not, the kind of guy who needs to be properly wined and dined by someone who wants a relationship and not some guy just looking to pull?”

“You two have perfect timing.” Matthew grinned. “I was thinking about what we were discussing the other day, Lance—”

“We weren’t discussing you were telling me what you thought I should do. Lecturing me, I dare say.”

“Point is,” Matthew said, steamrolling over Lance, “Our boy here needs to get himself a nice date. If we were back in my hometown, I know some lovely Southern boys—”

“I think that’s enough,” Travis growled. “Lance doesn’t need—”

“I can speak for myself, thanks,” Lance cut in, feeling his face heat up. He then looked at Matthew. “I don’t need—”

“C’mon, even Davis gets laid regularly,” Matthew pointed out.

“Yeah, and then comes crying to us about it when yet another date doesn’t turn out to be the man of his dreams,” Travis said, snorting.

“Hey, at least the guy’s trying,” Matthew replied. “Lance here deserves someone, wouldn’t you say, Travis? He needs someone who’s going to take care of him the way he deserves. I’d say that all of us should find someone like that.”

“Or you’re just disgustingly happy and you’re rubbing it in his face,” Travis replied, his voice going light in that tone that Lance knew meant you should back away, very quickly, and disengage.

Matthew, luckily, had learned enough about Travis since they’d first met to start recognizing that tone. “All right, whatever you think is what you think. I’ll make sure they bring up your meals ASAP. Travis, you’re getting the usual, right?”

Once he’d disappeared, Lance kicked Travis under the table. “Really? Was that necessary?”

“He needs to stay out of your business,” Travis replied. “What you do is your personal business.”

“Yet you don’t seem to mind getting into my personal business. Weren’t you just lecturing me on my love life too?”

“That’s different—”

Matthew walked by them, papers in hand. Lance’s gaze followed him, wondering what he was up to.

There was a kind of chalkboard set up right when someone entered the café, set up in the folding way so that it formed a triangle, with the two sides showing different things. The one facing people walking into the café usually said something about the specials, while the side someone saw as they exited had some kind of joke or pun—Matthew’s friend Jared, the owner of the café, made them up.

Not today, though. Today, Matthew was writing on the board, looking at the papers in his hand. Lance waited to see what specials he would see, maybe some new kind of pancake, but instead when Matthew finished he then took one of the papers and taped it onto the board before pulling back.

Lance dropped his fork. “No.”

Matthew had written on the sign,

Congratulations to Lance Berrett, voted Most Eligible Bachelor!

The paper that Matthew had taped up was a picture of Lance that Lance vaguely recognized as being taken by Davis, back when Davis was taking that photography class to try and meet someone. The full picture was Lance sitting in between Travis and Jake. Travis had his arm around Lance’s shoulders, and Lance remembered that Davis’s timing had been stellar because Travis had just said something funny, and Lance was swinging his head from looking at Jake to looking at Travis—and in the process, of course, had ended up facing the camera with a smile on his face. Davis had snapped the photo right as Lance had been looking into the camera, before completing his arc and facing Travis.

However, Matthew had cropped the photo, so that now only Lance could be seen. It actually looked pretty good, kind of like a headshot.

Below that, as if to add insult to injury with this little joke, Matthew had added,

Inquiries can be made out to Matthew, our Head Chef. Gentlemen only, please—sorry ladies.

There was the sound of silverware crashing behind him and Lance knew that Travis had seen it too. “That son of a bitch.”

“Don’t kill him,” Lance replied automatically, although he really, actually kind of wanted to see Matthew’s nose get broken.

“If this is his idea of a joke—” Travis started, but Lance turned around and leaned in.

“Don’t. Create. A. Scene,” he hissed.

Travis looked like he was still seriously considering following Matthew into the kitchen and frying him. Lance leaned in a little more. “Don’t, Trav, I’m serious. If you make a scene about this, everyone is going to want to know why.hen they’ll find out what’s going on, and I’ll only be even more in the spotlight. This is clearly some kind of joke that Matthew wants to pull and we’ll only make things worse if we rise to the bait. Okay?” Lance could already feel panic rising in him at the idea of Matthew and Travis getting into a fight—the thought all but strangled him.

The idea of men actually asking Matthew about him wasn’t all that fun either, but Lance would rather talk privately to Matthew about it later and get the sign taken down then have there be a hoopla over it. People still talked in this town and everyone would know about it before the day was over.

As if to punctuate this, a few people came over and expressed their condolences to Travis about the house fire. Once they’d gone, Travis seemed calmer. Lance grinned at him.

“Hey. Think about it this way—I’ll have Matthew owe me for weeks for putting me through this. We’ll be able to lord this over him forever.”

“It’s a good picture of you,” Travis acknowledged. “You’re usually too shy for pictures.” He sounded oddly thoughtful.

“Yeah, that was the one Davis snapped where I turned my head at the right moment. You made the joke about the penguins.” Lance found himself grinning at the memory. “That really is the stupidest joke ever, Trav.”

“It is the height of comedic genius and I will not hear anything different,” Travis replied. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Their waitress, a girl named Becky who’d served them before, came by to refill their glasses, and Travis turned to her and said, “Excuse me, would you mind helping me prove something to my friend here?”

“Sure?” Becky replied, looking suspicious.

“I have a joke for you.” Travis gave her that slow, lazy smile, the one that always made people melt. It made Lance melt, too, but he wasn’t ever going to admit that to Travis. “Two penguins are sitting in a rowboat in the desert. One of them says, ‘Where’s the paddle?’ The other one says, ‘Sure does!’”

Becky stared at him for a beat, then said, “I’m not sure I get it.”

Lance burst out laughing. “I told you! Stupidest joke known to mankind.”

“It’s just not sophisticated enough for you,” Travis said, adopting an exaggerated offended look. He looked at Becky. “It’s a play on words. So ‘where’s’ is misunderstood as ‘wears’, as in ‘wears the paddle down.”

Becky gave him a blank look. “Yeah I’m not sure I would call that sophisticated.”

“You and the word ‘sophisticated’ are two things that don’t really go together.” Lance calmed down in his laughter a little but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. After a moment of struggle with himself to keep the offended look, Travis gave in and smiled back. His knee bumped Lance’s under the table to show he wasn’t really upset.

Becky paused. “I’m sorry—I thought the sign said most eligible bachelor?” She asked. “I always thought that you two were…”

“We’re not dating,” Lance said automatically, the smile sliding off his face. He could hear the weariness in his own voice and just hoped that Travis would think it was exhaustion over being asked the question all the time, rather than frustration at wishing he could answer that yes, they were.

Travis, fortunately, was too busy glaring at Becky to pay any attention to what Lance was saying.

“Oh!” Becky brightened up at once. “Well in that case, I have a cousin, he’s a really great guy, broke every girl’s heart when he came out a few years ago, if you—”

“He’s not interested,” Travis all but growled.

Lance glared at him. “I can answer for myself, thanks.” He looked up at Becky. “I appreciate it, but honestly, that was just a joke done by Matthew. You know how he gets. I’m not really looking for anyone right now.”

Becky hummed but the glint in her eyes told him she didn’t quite believe him. “No problem! Let me know if you guys need anything.”

“Another order of bacon?” Travis asked hopefully.

“Not if you want to live past fifty,” Lance replied, giving Becky a look that said if she brought more bacon, he was going to… um… well, he wasn’t going to punch her or anything, but he’d do something.

This was why Travis was the one who got into fights.

Becky winked at Lance, letting him know she was on his side about this. “And you two wonder why everyone thinks you’re dating,” she said, laughing, and then turned away to help another customer.

Travis, for once, didn’t just laugh it off or ignore it. He seemed to actually be thinking about what Becky had said. Lance felt his gut tighten and twist. If Travis thought too hard about this, he’d think—

Well, what would he think? Surely he couldn’t ignore that when everyone thinks you’re dating, there has to be a reason for it. Something beyond just the fact that they spent time together. Lance was seen just as much with Davis as he was with Travis, and nobody had ever accused them of dating.

Maybe this was a good thing. The possibility hadn’t occurred to Lance until now. He’d been so full of fear that Travis would somehow, in sharing space with him, discover how Lance felt. But what if this was the push that Travis needed to finally get his head out of his ass?

There was the joking ‘most eligible bachelor’ sign, and their living together, and of course now Becky reminding them that people always assumed they were dating until told otherwise. Maybe all of this was the universe finally working in Lance’s favor, instead of against him like he’d thought.

Maybe, just maybe, this would help Travis to finally get a hint.