“No.”
Trevor looked up, his face confused and a little hurt. “What?” he demanded.
Lance picked the potato chips out of their cart, holding them up to his partner. “No,” he repeated.
Trevor frowned. “I like them chips!” he objected.
“They’re full of fat,” Lance stated.
“Well I like ‘em,” Trevor retorted, reaching out to take the chips and place them back in their cart.
Lance put a hand on his hip, fixing his partner with a determined look. “Chips or sex?”
Trevor paused mid-reach, frowning indignantly at the tall blonde. “What?” he exclaimed, his hand dropping back to his side.
“I said,” Lance repeated, “Would you rather have the chips, or sex?”
Trevor glared owlishly at Lance. “You sayin’ you ain’t gonna sleep with me tonight if I buy them chips?”
“Yep.” Lance held the chips off to the side, letting Trevor have an unobstructed view of his fit, muscular body. “So what’ll it be, partner?”
“Ya can’t do that!” Trevor stomped his foot, his frown bordering on a pout.
“Trevor,” Lance stated calmly, “you’ve been complaining about your weight, and you asked me to help you get the fat off. I told you I love you just the way you are, but you insisted that you want to get in better shape. Now do you want me to help you or not?”
Trevor’s frown now had morphed into a distinct pout. “I didn’t mean like this!” he protested.
“Well, this is the way I do it.” Lance held the bag of chips out, raising his eyebrows. “So, Trevor, will it be these greasy, fat-filled chips, or would you rather have me strip to nothin’ but my cowboy hat when we get back to the hotel?”
Trevor looked at the chips, then looked at Lance. Then looked at the chips, and looked at Lance. “Dagnabbit!!” he growled, grabbing the chips and throwing them back onto the shelf. He wrapped his arm around Lance’s waist as they continued down the aisle. “Why’ve ya gotta look so damn good in just my cowboy hat?” he muttered.
Lance smiled, wrapping an arm around Trevor’s waist in return. “I
love ya too, babe.”