Your Hand In Mine

"Uh, yeah. Can I have the New York Cheesecake Pancakes?" I told our waitress, Alice.

"Sure," she said, scribbling on a notepad then turning to Kris. "And for you?"

"I will 'ave th-"

"He'll have the same thing as me," I interrupted, shooting Kris a semi-smirk.

"No, I won't. I will 'ave-"

"Yes, he will, trust me," I smiled, handing over the menus to Alice, who turned on her heel and walked away.

Kris shook his head and mumbled 'bitch.'

"Love you, too," I laughed. "Did you honestly think that I was going to let you get something other than the cheesecake pancakes your first time at IHOP?"

"Yes, I 'onestly did. I am a big boy, I can pick out what I want to eat, you know," he smiled.

"I know, but still, you'll love these," I reassured him.

"Not as much as I love you," he told me, that crooked smile that made me melt on his face.

"So cheesy," I said, rolling my eyes and adding a grin to my lips.

"That is just 'ow I am," he replied. "Question twelve, right?" Here we go again. Well, I guess, I do sort of enjoy him playing the question game with me. He always came up with strange things to ask, and it was kind of.. cute, in a way. I don't know. But I liked it.

"Yup," I nodded.

"Okay," he said, then took a quick sip of his pop, "'ow come glue never stick to the inside of the bottle?" See what I mean?

"Huh, I have absolutely no idea. Maybe there's a special coating on the inside or something?"

"I don't know. Question number thirteen.. Why do they call it rush 'our when car are moving the slowest?"

"Because everyone is in a rush to get somewhere, but people suck at driving so they move slow, especially in Pittsburgh," I guessed. "Seriously, how hard is it to drive through a tunnel?" People always seemed to slow way the fuck down when they got near the Squirrel Hills tunnels, and it drove me up the wall.

"Apparently pretty 'ard. I don't get it either," Kris said, lightly shaking his head.

We talked about the traffic in Pittsburgh and how much people really needed to learn where the hell the gas pedal was for a few more minutes until we saw Alice bringing over our dinner--erm, breakfast. "Need anything else?" she asked kindly as she set our plates down in front of us.

"Non, merci," Kris smiled, rarely speaking French. It drove me crazy when he did that, in a good way, though.

"So, how's that all work," I began, twirling my fork in circles toward Kris. "The whole 'I speak French and English' thing? Do you think in French in your head, but it comes out of your mouth in English? Is it the other way around? Or am I just completely wrong?" I asked, laughing slightly, and cutting up some of my pancakes.

"When I am in the U.S. I think and talk in English, because people do not really speak French 'ere, obviously. When I am back 'ome in Montreal, I switch to French," he said then took a bite of his pancakes. "These are good," he commented, pointing his fork down towards his pancakes. "I did not t'ink I was going like them, but I do," he explained, shoving a few more bites into his mouth.

"Told you," I smiled, taking a sip of my Pepsi. "So, how about when you're with the guys? French or English?"

"Both. When I am with Flower or Max and other guy who speak French, I will obviously speak French. And when I 'ave to talk to Brooks or Eats or Sid and all the guy who don't speak French--well Sid, he speak some French, but not much--but when I am around those guy, I talk in English. Unless I am beaking them," he informed me.

I raised an eyebrow. "Beaking?"

"Yeah, you know, trash talking. I never use to do it when I first came 'ere, but now I sometime beak back," he said, finishing up his first pancake.

"Way to stand up for yourself, I'm proud," I joked.

"'ey! I am not scared of them. I beat up Jordan's brother and Darroll Powe and some other guy."

"Yeah, what about Hartnell? Beat him up, tough guy?" I smirked.

"I took 'is ass to the ice, watch the replay, you'll see. And it is not my fault 'e bit my finger."

"I hate that guy, and his creepy hair. I'm surprised you didn't get rabies," I said, earning a chuckle from Kris. "What finger was it again?" I asked.

"This one," he said, letting his fork fall down to his plate and holding up his right hand, tapping the air with his ring finger.

I shook my head. "What an asshole."

"Mmhm," he nodded.

"I have one, too," I told Kris, holding up my left index finger. "A crab pinched me at the beach one time."

"I know," he told me.

I gave him a confused look. "How?" I asked.

"Your brother told me about it at 'is party."

"Oh, yeah," I laughed, recalling Josh's surprise party.

"Fourteen. What day of the week do you 'ate most?"

"Probably Tuesday," I replied, almost done with my second pancake.

"ow come?"

"I'm not too sure, actually. Nothing really ever happens on Tuesdays, I guess," I said, shrugging. "Do you hate a certain day of the week?"

"Not really. I do not 'ave set day for 'ockey game, so I can not say that I 'ate Thursday because I never 'ave a game and time goes by slow. Make sense?"

"Yeah, I can see your point. It doesn't really make a difference to you because your schedule's always changing and stuff?"

"Exactly." As soon as Kris answered, our waitress came back over and asked how we liked our food; we told her it was good and asked for some more pop, which she gladly refilled.

"Next question, fifteen. What is the funniest name you 'ave ever 'eard of?"

"You're going to think I'm making this up, but I swear, I'm not," I said, grabbing the kid's menu and a crayon I asked the hostess for--hey, I like to color and draw--and writing out the letters S-H-I-T-H-E-A-D. I put the red crayon back down on the table, then turned the paper so Kris didn't have to read it upside down.

He looked at for a moment, confused. "Shit'ead?" he laughed.

"That's how it's spelled, but not pronounced. You're supposed to pronounce it Shh-theed," I said, also cracking up.

"Oh, wow. Who does that to their kid? Where did you even 'ear about this?"

"I don't know. I think he had a horrible last name, too, but I can't remember," I started to explain, turning my head to look out the window. "And my aunt, she's a teacher. Shithead was the name of one of her-" I stopped, laughing to the point where there was almost tears.

"What's so funny?" Kris asked. I was still laughing like fool, so the only thing I could do was point to my right, out the window. Kris' eyes darted to the street, and he, too, lost it. People tripped left and right over a crack in the sidewalk. It was hilarious, although I shouldn't have been laughing. I was probably going to trip over the same uneven crack as soon as I stepped outside.

"Last one for now, I promise. Then we only 'ave four more question till we get to twenty," he said after we calmed down.

I started to clap. "Looks like someone can do math," I smirked.

He ignored my comment, but smirked back nonetheless. "Where did you go the first time you were on a plane?"

"Ah, jeesh. I want to say Michigan. I have some family up there, so we went to visit them. I was probably only five or six, maybe."

"Michigan.. Go Red Wing."

"Ha. I knew who they were, and I did not cheer for them. I've been a loyal Pens fan all my life."

"Sure," he said.

I looked back out the window, only to see someone trip again. I heard our waitress come back over, but I didn't pay much attention to her. After the last person nearly fell on their face, nobody passed by, yet I kept staring out into the snow covered streets. I must've been daydreaming, well sort of. I wasn't paying attention to Kris and our waitress, but I wasn't thinking about anything else in particular either--just a blank stare, I guess.

"Shane?" I heard Kris say.

"Hmm?" I hummed, my eyes still glued to the glass.

"You ready to go?"

"Yep," I replied as I turned to Kris. "Hey! You already paid? No fair," I exclaimed, noticing the bill was gone and there was a tip on the table.

"Oui, it is. I am a gentleman, 'ence why I paid," he smiled. "Can we go?"

"Not before a game of Tic Tac Toe." I picked up the red crayon I had used earlier and tossed him the green one. He let out a sigh and sat back down in the booth.

I put down an 'X'. Kris drew a sloppy 'O'. We went back and forth, taking turns, until we filled the whole board.

"I won!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air and standing up. "Now, can we go?"

"You don't want your prize?" I asked Kris as I stood up next to him.

"Of course I do. 'and it over," he said, sticking out his hand, expecting--well, I don't really know what he was expecting, to be honest. I pushed his hand away and kissed his lips. "Maybe I should win more often," he mumbled against my lips. "Maybe you should."

He slipped his hand into mine, and we walked to his car--and yes, I did trip over that damn crack, but Kris helped me back up. Holding each other's hand was becoming a routine thing for us; every time we would walk somewhere together, our hands would always be connected. I got that tingly feeling whenever our skin met, too.

"Do you 'ave school or work tomorrow?" Kris asked me, unlocking the door to his apartment.

"Nope, nothing, although I might I have to do wedding stuff with Lexa, but I'm not sure," I told him, running through my school and work schedule in my head, and thinking back to texts between me and Lex earlier in the day.

"So, do that mean you can stay with me tonight?" he said, kicking his front door shut behind us. I turned around to face him and kissed him. "I will take that as a yes?" he laughed. Smiling up at him, I grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind me into his room. I changed out of my clothes--and no, I wasn't uncomfortable with him seeing me half naked anymore--and put on one of his t-shirts.

"I'm so tired," I yawned, collapsing on his bed.

"I know. Me, too," he said, also through a yawn. He stepped out of his clothes then lifted the covers and slid in bed next to me. He pulled me closer to him and turned me so my face was facing his. We stared at each other for a few minutes before he slowly leaned down and kissed me. I deepened the kiss and scooted myself on top of him. His left hand was tangled in my long, brown hair, while his right hand rested on my lower back. We started to play of tonsil hockey, and I let out a bit of a laugh because of my choice of words. He played ice hockey, and now we were playing tonsil hockey.. I thought it was kind of funny, other people might not, though. He gave me a confused look, but it didn't last long because his lips were glued right back to mine. He unwound his fingers from my hair and slid them down my back. He moved his fingers to the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing and tugged it upward. I put my arms up in the air so he could lift it over my head, then placed my lips back on his. Eventually, his fingers found the clasps of my bra. That got me thinking.. I knew I wanted to make love to him, but I just, not yet.

"Kris..," I said quietly.

He immediately stopped. "I am sorry, I shouldn't 'ave. I just.. I am sorry," he said, a frown on his face and eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"You don't need to apologize," I said, giving him a bit of a smile. "One day, Kris, one day..," I whispered. He gave his head a light nod, then held up the t-shirt I was once wearing so I could stick my head and arms through it. I moved so I could lay with half of my body on him and the other half on the bed.

"I love you, Shane," he whispered, closing his eyes and holding me close.

"I love you too, Kristopher."

I laid there for a while, just looking at him in the moonlight. He was so.. perfect. In every way possible.