Broken

CRASH!!

Chris stared in horror at the shards of pastel china now littering the hardwood floor at his feet. "Oh, fuck," he said, already cringing at his boyfriend's impending reaction. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Chris!" Lance hollered from his office next door. "You okay? What was that?"

"Nothing," Chris called back. He had dropped to his knees and was frantically collecting the pieces of Diane Bass' prized antique shepherdess. "I'm fine! Go back to work. Nothing to worry about here!" Diane had given them this one, her oldest, when they moved into their first home together. Lance had told her it reminded him of home, since it had been around his entire life. And now Chris had shattered it, and all it stood for, and how much did he completely suck? A really lot, he thought.

He eyed the pieces piled together. Most seemed pretty good sized, and it was a thick china. He looked at the clock - there were still a good three hours before Lance was typically done doing - well, whatever he did. Chris had a sneaking suspicion it involved more Snood than work, but he wasn't one to point fingers.

He gathered all of the pieces into a pouch he made with his shirt and opened the door just a crack. He made sure the coast was clear and dashed for his own office.

Chris worked for two and a half hours, painstakingly superglueing the pieces back together as well as he could. He tried to match all the pieces and ignored the fact that several parts were missing. When he was done, he took a step back, hoping that it looked better from a distance. He squinted. Twisted his neck a little. Groaned. Nope, still looked like crap. If he was lucky, Lance wouldn't notice until he'd had a chance to go far, far away.

Chris peeked out of his office door, noting that Lance's was still shut. He grabbed the cardboard paper he'd rebuilt the figurine on and carried it carefully back to the living room. He slid it on to the mantel, tucking it a little further back from its usual position.

"Chris?"

Chris jumped back from the fireplace. "Lance! You're done! Hey, let's go have sex." He rushed towards his boyfriend and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room. If nothing else, he could get laid one last time before being killed.

"Hey, whoa, whoa," Lance protested, laughing, as he was pulled through the foyer towards the stairs. "Chris, man, wait," he put his hand on Chris's shoulder and stopped their run. "Not that I'm turning down sex, but what is up with you?"

"Nothing," Chris said. "Nope, nothing to worry about here. C'mon. Bed, now!" He tugged Lance's hand, to no avail.

Lance pulled his hand free, shaking his head. "Okay, sure. I won't complain. I'll meet you upstairs in a minute, I need some papers I left in the living room last night." He started walking back towards the living room, and Chris considered flinging himself at Lance and dragging him upstairs. Unfortunately, Lance was already in the room while Chris debated the pros and cons of such an athletic move, and Lance, knowing his boyfriend as well as he did, had gone immediately to where he had last seen Chris.

"Oh, my God!" he said, agast. He came back out of the living room, carrying the demented recreated china doll. "Chris! What the fuck?!"

Chris winced. "Uh, superball went a little nuts. Hit the mantel instead of the wall. It broke."

"But...but...her arm! And her eye! And..." Lance trailed off, staring wide-eyed at it. "What made it look like this?"

"I tried to fix it," Chris said. "Superglue. Second only to duct tape in fixing any incident."

"Good Lord, why?" Lance asked.

"Because it was your mom's, and you loved it, and you probably want me gone now, right? Bass solidarity and all that?" Chris asked.

"The hell?" Lance said, even more baffled. "What is with you? God, I hate this thing! And even if I didn't, it's a doll, you idiot. A doll does not compete with a boyfriend."

"You hate it?" Chris repeated, jaw dropping. "You said it was like home!" he said accusingly.

"My mom would not take kindly to me telling her that I think her collection is ugly and stupid," Lance said. "I only keep it out because of her habit of dropping by unannounced. Didn't you know that?"

"No!" Chris said. "I thought you loved that thing!"

"Well, I don't," Lance said. "I'm glad you broke it, now there's an excuse to throw it away. Actually, see, here's a better reason." He let go of the cardboard and it all dropped to the floor with a smash.

Chris shrieked. "You fucker! I spent hours on that!" He mournfully stared at the remains of his crappy yet hard work.

"Oh, God. You did? Really?" Lance dropped down and started gathering the pieces into a pile. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know! I'll fix it this time, okay? Fuck, we have to start talking, this doll is so not worth it. Ow!" He sucked at his finger, where a pinpoint of blood was oozing out.

Chris sighed. "Yeah, forget it." He reached out for Lance's hand.

Lance looked up, finger still in his mouth. "What?"

"Leave it. It's stupid. It's done. Broken." Chris shrugged.

"But you tried to do something nice and I totally trashed it," Lance protested. "Now I feel bad."

"I felt bad, you felt bad, the doll really feels bad," Chris said. "Let's just leave it."

"No, c'mon. Help me fix it," Lance said. "It'll go faster, us working together, then there can be sex."

Chris slowly grinned. "Well, when you put it like that...."

* * *
"So, I just thought I'd drop by, see if you boys wanted to go out to dinner," Diane said cheerfully, following Lance into the living room. Her eyes landed on the mantel and she stopped short at the sight of her poor old shepherdess and her voice scaled up. "Oh, my Word, what did you DO TO IT?!"

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