**

"Something smells good."

"It's almost done. Get some plates out. Just two, though, 'cause Fro's staying out tonight."

Byers leaned over Langly's shoulder and got a wooden spoon in the face for his troubles. "No peeking."

"Uh-oh."

Langly turned around, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, uh-oh?"

Byers tried to placate the younger man. "Nothing, really. Just, uh, when you get secretive, it usually means you're doing something…" He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence in a way that wouldn't result in frying-pan-based assault.

Ringo's gaze was icy. "Yes?" His voice was, if possible, even colder.

John turned away and grabbed a couple of plates. "It smells great, really." Ah, the coward's way out, he thought. He heard the conciliatory note in his own voice, sighing internally. Still, it was probably the most prudent approach: he hated sleeping alone, and Langly was capable of some amazing sulks when his ego was bruised. And it did smell good, so even if he'd gotten… creative… again, how bad could it be?

He found some flatware, surreptitiously checking the counters for cans, bags, or boxes that might give him a clue. Nothing. That was probably a bad sign. Langly wasn't an inherently tidy person. If he'd cleaned up, it was because he didn't want to warn Byers about the ingredients.

Bad, bad sign.

John grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. Experience told him that Langly's cooking definitely required taking the edge off the old taste buds. He'd gotten in a few serious swallows when Langly sauntered over and dumped a pile of food onto each plate.

"Food" was about the only description John could come up with while still sober. He gazed at his plate in awe. "What—What is this, Ri?"

"Stir fry." Langly's voice made it clear he wasn't going to welcome further questions.

Byers sighed again. The younger man had a distinct tendency to get whimsical with his cooking. He prodded it gently with his fork, and thought he recognized something. "Tater tots?" he asked, mystified.

"Yeah. And that leftover rice. With teriyaki sauce." Langly dug in with obvious enjoyment. John watched him for a few moments to make sure it wasn't instantly fatal, and then found a relatively innocuous forkful for himself.

"That's pretty good," Byers said, surprised. A frozen glare raked over him, and he shut up and tried another mouthful. He knew he was in the doghouse already, but he had to ask. "What's the meat?"

"Pork," Langly said flatly, clearly unwilling to elaborate. "Teriyaki sauce. We didn't have any vegetables, so I used the tater tots. I think it came out pretty good."

Byers tried not to twitch. He pushed the alarmingly pink cubes of meat around. They didn't look like the hot dogs Langly had used the last time he did stir fry. He put a very small piece into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Suspicion dawned. "Spam?"

"So?" Challenging, defiant.

"Just wondering." John backpedaled. "It's, um, fine. Good," he amended hastily. "Really good."

He ate in silence for a couple of moments, and looked up to find Langly's amused gaze on him.

"You're a lousy liar, John."

It was true, Byers knew. He was devious, he was clever. He was not a good liar. He blushed much too quickly, and much too often, to pull it off in that effective Frohike way. And of course, he was blushing now. He could feel the heat rising across his face.

Still, Langly wasn't throwing things, nor had he so much as glanced at the knife block. He wasn't even doing his favorite routine, the patented Lord Manhammer Huff of Temper. Byers thought he might be safe. He wanted to keep it that way.

So he smiled, and took another bite, and said, "No, it's really not bad. A little spicy, maybe."

Langly snorted, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Is that ginger?" Byers asked.

The younger man grinned. "Yeah. I read in an article somewhere it was an aphrodisiac."

Byers choked for a second, then started coughing. Then Langly was pounding on his back, not gently. Byers tried to wave him off, and finally ended up slumped in his chair, gasping for breath.

"You okay now?" Langly looked both amused and concerned, an expression only he could be capable of. He handed Byers some water.

"Did this article also happen to mention that the Heimlich is a real mood breaker?"

Langly laughed. "Actually, I read this other story…." he grinned wickedly.

"Don't even think about it. I don't do masochism or asphyxiation."

"Check. No masochism. Uh, does that mean you're not finishing dinner?"

Byers laughed. "I would, you know, but I think I've been overwhelmed by the ginger." He ran his hand over the other man's denimed ass.

Langly smirked. "Okay. Fuck dinner."

"Fuck me," Byers suggested conversationally.

Langly took a small breath. "That's good too. I can work with that." Their eyes locked.

"I have every confidence in you." Byers was elaborately casual, the tone of voice he knew drove Langly crazy.

It didn't take long. "You can get your ass in the bedroom, or I can fuck you right here. But you'd better make up your mind quick." Langly's voice was nearly a growl.

Byers grinned, feeling a small thrill of triumph at for once not being the first to give in. "I do not have sex in kitchens," he said firmly.

"Is that a dare?"

"Statement of fact," Byers retorted, headed out of the room.

Langly shut off the lights and followed, appreciating again just how well the older man wore those dark suit pants.

Byers felt the scrutiny, and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He smiled smugly to himself and removed his jacket as he walked, letting it drape down enough to interfere with Langly's line of sight. He heard Langly smother a disappointed groan, and it was all he could do not to laugh.

He hung his jacket neatly in the bedroom closet and turned back to the door. Langly stood in the doorway, blocking it.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Byers' lips twitched. "Brush my teeth."

"Jooooohn…." The desperate pleading note was ample reward, and Byers abandoned the game.

He grinned at his lover. "What, did you have other plans?"

"You're a real bastard, John." That growl again, the one that could make 'bastard' into a term of endearment. Then Langly was pushing Byers backwards onto the bed, falling on top of him and silencing his lover's laughter with his mouth as he wrestled with the buttons of the dress shirt. He pulled away slightly, leaving John breathless. Grinning into the half-glazed blue eyes, he asked "Can you move?"

Byers blinked a couple of times. "Don't think so," he said. "You're kind of…" He waved one hand vaguely.

Langly snickered. "Good. Helpless. I like that in a man." He distracted John with another long sloppy kiss, and managed to get pants and jeans and boxers slid down enough for a little contact. He let up for air for a few seconds and then tried it again. John was nearly boneless by the time Langly let go. Langly propped himself up on his elbows, looked down at him, and snickered again. "Perfect."

Byers gasped. "Ri, I already said…"

"You don't do asphyxiation, I know. But, hell, what a way to go, huh?"

John laughed a little. Ringo said throatily, "You, don't move. Don't move an inch." He darted in and bit Byers' neck sharply.

Byers yelped. "Okay, okay. I'm not going anywhere. You could have just said."

Langly laughed and rolled off him. "Yeah, you're being real cooperative tonight, Johnny." He stumbled to his feet and stripped out of his clothes as fast as he could, glaring at Byers the whole time, as if daring him to move.

Byers tried not to laugh. "Pushy, pushy. So what is it this time, are you The Incredible Hulk, or is this the schoolgirl-lost-in-the-woods thing again?"

Langly pulled Byers' clothes off him, flipping him over roughly as he did so. "You are such a pervert, John." He dug through the drawer in the nightstand and tossed the lube on the bed before spreading himself across Byers again.

"Mmmph," John said, face buried in the pillows. He managed to turn his head. "Oh, sure. You cook with Spam, and I'm the pervert."

"And ginger," Ringo laughed. "Don't forget the ginger."

Byers wriggled against him. "How could I possibly."

Langly gasped a little and decided he'd had plenty of teasing for one night. He growled softly and sunk his teeth into the other man's shoulder while he fumbled with the lube.

John moaned loudly. "Ri, I swear to God…"

"Yeah?" Langly said distractedly, pushing one slick finger into the older man.

"If you don't—Oh!" John yelped.

Langly snickered. "Don't what?" He added another finger.

"Oh, my God. Oh my God." John could barely get the words out.

"What was it you were saying?" Langly breathed against his neck.

John shuddered. "Don't remember," he mumbled. He wasn't sure if it was the ginger, or maybe there was just some weird chemical in Spam, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. Langly seemed determined to draw it out as long as possible. Byers thought about Spam, thought about asphyxiation, thought about killing his teasing partner, but then Langly shifted, and he stopped thinking at all.

"Oh, God. There—Oh—Oh, my God." He pushed himself up against the other man as much as he could. "Ri, fuck…"

"That was the plan." Byers could feel that evil smile like a heat lamp on his back.

"So do it already!" he demanded, letting out another deep groan.

Langly laughed breathlessly. He pulled himself off Byers and knelt beside him, slicking himself up. He was more than a little startled when Byers flipped over and pushed him down. He thumped onto his back, with Byers immediately on top of him. Ringo grunted and found himself blinking at the ceiling.

John swept down on him and captured his mouth, his hands moving restlessly across the younger man's body. Then he pulled himself up and slowly impaled himself on Langly. "Oh, God, Ri, that's so good…"

Langly groaned in agreement. He wrapped his hands around John's cock and thrust up into him.

Byers moaned, throwing his head back. They slid against each other, finding a rhythm. It didn't last long. John's head spun, his lover hard inside him, hands stroking him roughly. Another particularly deep thrust and the long fingers tight around him and he came in hot, wet spurts over them both.

Ringo felt the older man stiffen around him and it was enough to push him over the edge. "Oh, Christ, Johnny…."

They clung together, shaking with the intensity of the moment, waves of pleasure crashing down on them both. Afterwards, Byers collapsed on top of Langly. Langly put both arms around him and held him close as their breathing evened out.

Byers was still drifting down from his climax when he heard Langly say, "Next time I'll use pineapple and sweet and sour sauce."

John opened his eyes wide. "Jesus. I can't believe I'm listening to pillow talk about Spam. You're sick, Ri."

"You didn't mind it as foreplay." Langly laughed and kissed him fondly.

"There are occasional compensations for putting up with you," Byers said, yawning, grabbing for the tissues. He yanked the blankets over them and settled his head on his lover's shoulder. He supposed he could brush his teeth later.