Shiro sighed as he closed the front door firmly behind him and Lance didn't even look in his direction. "You," he said, passing the couch and heading for the kitchen, his fist full of plastic bags, "need a /job./"
"Uhn?" Lance cocked his head slightly. He was drape(more)d over the couch, mostly - knees hooked over the back, feet resting on the low bar between the kitchen and the living room. His attention was focused on the television, though how he could keep track of things upside-down Shiro had no idea. "A job?"
Shiro batted his foot aside and Lance's legs slithered out of view as he pulled himself upright and made a face. "Whoo, I'm dizzy."
"No shit," Shiro said and didn't bother to disguise his smile as Lance pulled himself up, hands on the back of the couch, and leaned over the bar to kiss his husband. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"
"Fish?" Lance asked eagerly. Shiro snorted, and he pouted a little. "We only ever eat venison. I could catch fish for my job!" He lit up at that idea, and Shiro shook his head.
"What? Why not! I'd be good at it."
"We don't profit off of things like that," he said. "It isn't right - besides, you'd put some of the old-timers out of business, and I thought you didn't want to attract any undue attention?"
Lance sighed and sat down on his knees on the couch. "Well, about the only things I AM good at is catching fish and sucking your dick."
"You're good at plenty. You've gotten this place organized and cleaned up," he gestured. "Maybe your friend Hunk could get you a job at the diner. Or," he added. "I think the bookstore had a help wanted sign out."(less)