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Notes: Written for L.C., who requested a JoLa drabble with the words "Swiss", "boy", and "needle".

Swiss
by Hetre Z

Lance ate Swiss cheese for the texture, the sharp acrid taste and not enough damn salt, the smooth near-plastic feeling on his tongue and little spaces dotted here and there like prizes. Joey would always laugh, and watch, and touch Lance's tongue with his through the holes.

Lance didn't particularly like the taste of it. There were better things to eat, he thought, like his mother's okra or Lindt chocolate or bread pudding with jam. But there was the sharp sting like needles on his tongue, and the slick feeling of it, and Joey saying "oh boy, you look like a fucking loon" before leaning over slightly and breathing into his mouth.

There was always a second that he thought would be longer, that maybe one day Joey would lean all the way in and stay there. And there was always a second when it tasted sweet, dissolving the sourness at the back of his throat, and the second after Joey pulled away where Lance could have said anything, like "again" or "please" or even "thank you".

And Lance would always sit back, and say "yeah", and go slice some more.