For crownzeal: "Bassez, rain, anything else you want."

"And I said mama, mama, mama, why am I so alone, I can't go outside, I'm scared I might not make it home. I'm alive, I'm alive, but I'm sinking in --"

"Yes, all right," said Lance from the porch of the cabin. "I get the point. You're the rain king. Now will you come inside and change out of those clothes before you catch your death of cold?"

JC cut off singing -- well, caterwauling, really, he said that a really good Adam Duritz impression included notes and sounds that shouldn't exist coming from a human throat -- and turned around to grin at him. The water was dripping down his face, sending his hair down along his cheeks. He looked like nothing more than a drowned rat. "Didn't you ever do this when you were a kid? Climb out into the rain and just twirl around and let it rain on you?"

"Can't say that I ever did," Lance said dryly.

"You must have been a very boring child. Come on." He held out his hand. "It's warm rain, I promise."

"I really don't feel like getting soaking wet, Jayce," Lance said.

"But it's nice to get rained on, and when you get soaking wet, you can go inside afterwards and build a fire in the fireplace and snuggle mostly naked in front of it."

Lance contemplated that for a minute, then stepped out from the shelter. JC grinned and went back to singing. After a minute, Lance sighed, decided in for a penny in for a pound, and chimed in with the harmony on "I belong in the service of the queen, I belong anywhere but in between." JC reached over and claimed his hand, and Lance really had to admit that it was nice to get rained on after all. He was still doing it for the mostly naked snuggling, though.

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