Risk [1/3] ;; PG-13
Jul. 23rd, 2009 12:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bootsonTitle: Risk [1/3] (or "Red Light")
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R, there's a LOT of profanity, let me know if I should change up it)
Summary: Chris makes a mistake. Zach barely handles it.
Wordcount: 3,090
Warnings: Angst, language, angst, Playboy mention, angst. This is not made of happy.
Disclaimer: Clearly, this is a nonprofit product of my warped and depraved mind. I deal in lies, kids.
Beta: The ever wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chellealistic, who never fails to feed my obsessions!
AN: Italics indicate flashbacks. This came about because I did a songfic meme a while back. A few ficlets were connected (Specifically #s 5, 7, & 10) and some people expressed interest in seeing those expanded upon. It's not necessary to read those to read this, but it's linked if you want it.
AN2: The first scene is largely based on the song "Red Light" by David Nail (Which does get quoted). I also had a little playlist going with this. I might upload those songs later, but I'm just going to list them (in order, because that does matter with this lol):
-"Last Kiss Goodbye" ~Hinder
-"Should've Said No" ~Taylor Swift
-"Lie" ~David Cook
-"Cold As You" ~Taylor Swift
######
Driving down familiar streets, no matter how crowded, gave Zach this strange sense of belonging. He knew it was ridiculous, but he liked it for the complacency. People undervalued the mundane far too often, but sunshine and a warm breeze was a classic combination. He was happy with his life and, damnet, it was just a good day.
It was still fairly early, not even noon, but he’d had a relatively busy morning and being finished by lunch was something he’d give all his mornings away for. Pulling a left turn onto a less crowded street just before the light changed made him laugh. Why was getting through a yellow light always just a step away from exhilarating?
Whatever, Zach was over analyzing again. Nothing could just be simple, black and white with him. His phone buzzed from the cup holder, making him laugh quietly. It was a text from the person who found the most pleasure in teasing Zach about his “entirely unnecessary introspection.”
I sort of slept with this girl last night…
Zach’s mirth died while he read the message, then again, before pecking out a response and waiting for the punch line.
Not funny.
Chris thought he was hysterical, but his jokes fell flat at least as often as they hit their mark. Whatever he was playing at this time was probably going to be extremely unseemly and, good day or not, Zach wasn’t sure he had this much patience.
He drove for another few blocks, letting the day rally his good mood again, before the phone in his hand buzzed. He was smirking as he checked it, certain Chris would be professing that “No, this is hilarious. Really!”
Not joking. Im really sorry
The colors around him started to fade. That previously bright sunlight streaming through the windows suddenly forgot how to carry warmth. Zach felt cold. Impossibly, entirely icy. His blood may have frozen in his veins for all the good it was doing. He couldn’t even actually force himself to move; luckily, he was at a red light.
At a red light while his world shook and important, vastly imperative pieces began to disintegrate into the nothingness of rubble and dirt. It felt like the aftermath of an earthquake.
An earthquake would probably hurt less.
His grip turned white knuckled as he stared at the small screen displaying the simple characters he’d known since kindergarten. How could basic, nonthreatening shapes suddenly develop sharp edges? More importantly, how could something that had worked so well suddenly fall apart?
Small snippets of scenes plagued his memory as he tried to figure out exactly where this had gone wrong.
######
It had started as easily as their friendship. One night, most of the cast had been hanging around having beers at Zach’s. When they finally cleared out, Chris stayed behind. Chris had stayed behind fairly frequently, actually.
Beer bottles clacked against each other in the recycle bin as Zach cleared the counter, suddenly wondering what had happened to Chris. When he turned, his friend was right there, a breath away. Zach met his eyes before he could force his extensive vocabulary to actually cooperate with him.
There was a new expression in Chris’ eyes this time, something making them seem ocean blue instead of sky. The juxtaposition of the thought made Zach laugh, albeit maybe a bit hysterically which was ridiculous, but Chris only stepped closer.
He brought a hand up to trace Zach’s jaw before pressing their lips together. Zach was surprised even if he’d seen it coming. His body froze while he was barraged by a hundred reasons they shouldn’t cross this line. Then Chris moved closer, hands falling to his waist while their legs slotted together like it didn’t take any maneuvering. The thoughts stopped and Zach found himself lacing his fingers through Chris’ hair, tugging him closer, closer, and running his tongue across Chris’ lower lip in an odd counter to Chris’ own nervous habit. It stopped instantly, abruptly and Zach whined quietly.
“Nothing changes?” Chris’ eyes were piercing and there was something like pleading behind his tone.
“Nothing. Never,” Zach had promised before he could stop himself. If it meant he could actually have Chris, Zach would probably have promised anything.
A month later and they were practically living in each other’s pockets, possessions mixed at their respective homes and Zach may have been wearing Chris’ shirts more often than his own.
And it had been great, fun, happy; the joking, touching, playing… It was probably the easiest and best relationship Zach had ever had… Until, when?
######
Horns were blaring obnoxiously from somewhere behind him, bringing Zach back to the world and away from the recesses of his own mind. The light was yellow, having cycled completely back through the green. His foot fell heavy on the accelerator, but the rush of beating the red was nonexistent.
Everything was a red light, including his vision. As quickly as the absolute pain had started, the burning anger invaded. Chris was telling him he…cheated on him? Through a text message?
A god damned, mother fucking text message!
This was unacceptable. Before his consciousness had caught up with his nervous system, Zach found himself parked against the curb outside Chris’ building; and, damnet, he could never find a parking spot this close when it was for something less painful than an impending break up. With his best friend.
So this is what it feels like….
######
Chris was sitting in the floor, throwing cards into a hat when Zach arrived at his apartment one evening. From the looks of things, this game wasn’t one of Chris’ skills. That almost made Zach smug, finding things Chris couldn’t do with perfect ease; it was actually a difficult endeavor sometimes.
Zach smirked when the door shut behind him. “It’s all in the wrist, you know.”
That card didn’t even come close. Chris sent him a flirty grin, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Only because your mouth is usually involved.” Zach crossed the room and nudged Chris’ hip with the toe of his shoe. “And who’s really going to complain about that mouth?”
Laughing, Chris closed a hand around his forearm and hauled him unceremoniously to the floor.
“Ow,” Zach deadpanned, pouting. It didn’t work but Chris rewarded the effort with a kiss. Shifting around, Zach stretched his legs out under the coffee table and leaned into his boyfriend’s side. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Avoiding the paparazzi. They’re stalking me.”
Zach gave an empathetic nod (they’d had this discussion) and wrapped a warm arm around Chris’ shoulders. “They’ll find a target that isn’t us soon enough. Lindsay or Britney will do something insane.”
Chris was unnaturally rigid. Frowning, Zach pressed his thumb into the muscles along Chris’ shoulder. When that didn’t work, he started flexing his other fingers, moving his hand to the back of Chris’ neck. With a sigh, Chris dropped his head forward and leaned into Zach’s ministrations.
“You’re aware this is risky, right?” A whispered rhetorical wasn’t enough to stop Zachary Quinto from making commentary.
“Yes, Christopher.” They had also had this conversation. If Zach had been younger, the topic would have caused a near panic. “That is why we’re careful. A bromance is a brilliant cover.”
A chuckle, maybe an actual laugh, would have followed this if Chris hadn’t suddenly leaned away. Zach’s eyebrows furrowed while Chris gestured vaguely, trying to express something but failing.
“Use your words, Chris.” In retrospect, he shouldn’t have said that. It was sarcastic and slightly sharp, but Zach didn’t like where this was going. Not that he had the vaguest idea where that actually was. Sometimes Chris’ spontaneous nature was a hindrance on effective communication.
“Don’t be passive aggressive, Zach,” Chris muttered and braced his elbows on the sofa seat to pull himself out of the floor and onto it. “I don’t mean us in general. I mean us as in…” Tongue darting out to lick the corner of him lips, hand roughly through his hair, fragmented nonsense sentences: all signs of a nervous Chris Pine. Normally, they were on the same page and Zach could fill in the blank spots for him. That strange connection, the chemistry between them failed this time.
Chris heaved a sigh. “Six months is my unsurpassed relationship length.”
“You were with Beau longer than that,” Zach pointed out straining as he twisted so he could read Chris’ expressions. Maybe they hadn’t actually had this specific conversation.
“Off and on,” he disagreed. “I never make it past six solid months. That’s with women. I only make it four with men.”
“That’s because you live in a closet,” Zach sighed. Why did Chris always have these strange mood swings at inopportune moments? Mimicking his earlier move, Zach sat close beside him again. “Which I technically do, too. That’s why this works. We share similar concerns.”
Chris made a move like he just wanted to shake Zach, but Zach was unfazed. Actually, he leaned closer, forcing Chris to lean to the side and turn toward him.
“Are your mental facilities lacking today?” When Zach gave him another raised eyebrow, Chris closed his eyes and continued. “Everything is going to fall apart. Statistically speaking, it should have already. I’m trying to tell you that we’re both going to get hurt in the near future. This is a warning.”
Zach’s challenging look shifted into confusion, not that Chris was looking. No, Chris’ eyes were screwed shut, forehead wrinkled in concentration and his posture stiff once more. “Chris. Look at me?”
His eyes slid open and Zach hated the look he saw in Chris’ eyes, pain like he hadn’t seen out of character before. He really was worried about this. Carefully, Zach reached out to frame the younger man’s face in his hands. It was silent until Zach leaned their foreheads together. Some of Chris’ tension melted away at the contact, but his eyes dropped.
“I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. Stop speaking in statistics.” He pressed his lips to Chris’ forehead. “That’s my job.” Zach saw the laugh lines before the actual smile, shifting to kiss those instead.
Master of situations, Zach had changed the subject. “Why are you using my hat for target practice?”
Chris had laughed and never mentioned it again. Sometimes, however, when he thought Zach didn’t see, he got that look again. Zach never mentioned it, but maybe he should have.
######
Oh, hell no. Zach was not going to be some angst ridden teenage girl and blame himself for this. This was not his fault, nowhere even remotely close. He slammed a hand against the steering wheel and all but broke the key off in the ignition as he turned the car off.
Anger. He was going to be angry and he was getting answers. Anger and answers. Zach repeated the mantra to himself to keep the goal in mind as he made his way to Chris’ door. For the first time in longer than he cared to consider, Zach knocked.
There was shuffling from inside, socks on carpet, before the door opened slowly.
Chris’ eyes flared wide for a second before he regained himself and stepped back. Not that Zach gave him much option, shouldering past him and into the living room.
“You need a maid,” Zach muttered as he took in the mess. Before Chris could complete whatever he was trying to convey with the senseless “Yeah, well, yeah, you know,” Zach turned to stare him down. Intimidation wasn’t normally hard for Zach to accomplish; he just slipped a little into what Karl called his “holier-than-though” persona or invoked a bit of Sylar and he was there.
But he had never tried this with Chris. When he saw that Chris clearly hadn’t slept, his hair in completely random directions and bags under his eyes, Zach almost let concern get in the way. Then Chris set his phone on the table and Zach remembered.
“The hell, Christopher?” Real articulate there, Quinto.
“Is this about the text?” Innocent puppy eyes met his. The expression was dangerous, forcing Zach to stare at his nose instead.
“No, this is about my belt you lost last week,” he snapped.
“Zach,” Chris whispered, clearly miserable. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t appreciate trite.” This wasn’t entirely true, but Zach didn’t give him time to comment. “Catch me up. What the hell happened?”
“I went out with some people,” Chris shrugged. His eyes dropped and suddenly he wasn’t in front of Zach anymore. No, he was pacing. Zach crossed his arms and followed the movement with his eyes. “Hadn’t seen them in a while, not since Trek took over and wanted to catch up.”
“So you were in a bar.” There was no question there.
Chris nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t even know what I was drinking at the end. We just kept getting rounds of whatever one of us liked. Some people recognized me, I played nice.” Without stopping his feet, he stole a sideways glance at Zach, which Zach pretended to miss. “There was this blonde. Said something about being in Playboy, next thing I know, we’re in my car.”
He was trying to wait for the rest of the story; Zach really, really was. The heat was creeping up his face, though and that seemed to cancel out what his throat was capable of restraining. “For the love of God, tell me you didn’t bring her here.”
“No!” Chris’ voice was higher than usual. The silence stretched on until Zach nodded, at least this was something. “She lived close by, I took her home. Went in for a drink…” Stopping suddenly, he looked at Zach without lifting his head. “You don’t want the details after that.”
“Maybe I do,” Zach whispered, walking closer. At the last second, Zach remembered that Chris had never learned the concept of personal space and a lack of it was comforting for him. Changing course, he headed for the armchair across the room but didn’t sit. “Maybe I want to know everything you did to her, every little fucking sound she made. Maybe I want the specifics of what made her so worth it.”
“She wasn’t worth it!” Chris hadn’t missed a beat and was starting to either pace again or move closer to Zach. Zach shook his head and Chris must have seen something in his stance or face to halt the steps. “I never meant to do anything like that. I would never…”
“But you did.” Yelling was out of the question. It would have felt nice, fucking fantastic actually, but Zach wasn’t letting Chris have the satisfaction of seeing him worked up over this, though his language was a fairly massive indicator on its own. “You picked up some slut at a bar. Fucked her. Sent me a text message. Really, Chris? That’s the best you can do? Someone with as many breakups as you should be able to swing something more eloquent.”
When Chris didn’t say anything, Zach went on. “You! Of all people!” Maybe that no yelling concept wasn’t going to work so well after all. “You’re the one who complains about the press, about the more intense fans, and you pick up some Playmate fangirl?”
Chris was biting his lip and Zach could just barely make out the way his pocket moved as he twisted his fingers. There wasn’t going to be any eye contact for this and Zach wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Those beautiful fucking blue eyes were so expressive they probably would have undone him; but, at the same time, Zach almost wanted to see what Chris thought of all this. Was he sincerely upset or was it the act? This is why you shouldn’t date fucking actors, Zach reminded himself.
“I never want to so much as hear someone else say you’re bitching about the attention again. You clearly grew accustomed to it. Or you lied and wanted it the whole time. Wouldn’t shock me. Are you really that desperate for attention that you’ll use any excuse just because I was busy?”
The communicative eyes shot up and Zach almost backed down. Instead, he forced himself to step forward. The burning in his chest was making him act strangely, lash out. He wanted Chris to hurt the way he did. He stopped when they were nearly chest-to-chest.
“Everything falls apart? It’s a risk? You said that,” Zach snapped. When Chris took a step back, Zach grabbed his arms. “Want to know the reason? You turn into a whiny fucking bitch and ruin it.”
“Zach,” Chris muttered and Zach almost didn’t recognize his own name. Chris voice had all but broken on the word. “No. God, I’m sorry.”
“Lie. Act. Whatever.” Why couldn’t Chris have lied to begin with? Why couldn’t he just keep Zach in the dark and pretend it never happened? Was this just to get it off his chest or did he think he really owed Zach that much?
Zach shook him a bit. Then he let go, recoiled like he’d been burned, leaving Chris to stumble a step backwards. Chris’ expression, God, Zach could see straight through it. His eyes were glassy, regret and something deeper filling them. His mouth was slightly open, like he was going to say something in retaliation; Zach suspected he may actually beg. He smirked.
Then it hit him. What was he doing? The knot in his chest was tighter than before his outburst, a pervading ache taking over the rest of his senses. This wasn’t him. Granted, he and Chris fed off each other, it’s why they worked; but this was too much. Zach wasn’t even recognizing himself and he needed to put some distance between what Chris was doing to him even when Chris wasn’t doing anything other than looking like he’d been kicked. And it hurt, so fucking much, no matter what Chris did to know he had twisted that expression into what it was.
“I’m done.” Even he wasn’t sure if he meant with the conversation or them. Leaving it open for interpretation, Zach strode toward the door. Chris said something but there was too much white noise in his ears, blood rushing, for Zach to understand. “Just don’t. I’m done.”
He didn’t look back. Even when he was in his car and safely away from the wounded look in Chris’ eyes, one of the looks Zach knew he couldn’t hide even with a Herculean effort, he didn’t look back.
So this is how it ends…
PART TWO
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R, there's a LOT of profanity, let me know if I should change up it)
Summary: Chris makes a mistake. Zach barely handles it.
Wordcount: 3,090
Warnings: Angst, language, angst, Playboy mention, angst. This is not made of happy.
Disclaimer: Clearly, this is a nonprofit product of my warped and depraved mind. I deal in lies, kids.
Beta: The ever wonderful
chellealistic, who never fails to feed my obsessions!AN: Italics indicate flashbacks. This came about because I did a songfic meme a while back. A few ficlets were connected (Specifically #s 5, 7, & 10) and some people expressed interest in seeing those expanded upon. It's not necessary to read those to read this, but it's linked if you want it.
AN2: The first scene is largely based on the song "Red Light" by David Nail (Which does get quoted). I also had a little playlist going with this. I might upload those songs later, but I'm just going to list them (in order, because that does matter with this lol):
-"Last Kiss Goodbye" ~Hinder
-"Should've Said No" ~Taylor Swift
-"Lie" ~David Cook
-"Cold As You" ~Taylor Swift
######
Driving down familiar streets, no matter how crowded, gave Zach this strange sense of belonging. He knew it was ridiculous, but he liked it for the complacency. People undervalued the mundane far too often, but sunshine and a warm breeze was a classic combination. He was happy with his life and, damnet, it was just a good day.
It was still fairly early, not even noon, but he’d had a relatively busy morning and being finished by lunch was something he’d give all his mornings away for. Pulling a left turn onto a less crowded street just before the light changed made him laugh. Why was getting through a yellow light always just a step away from exhilarating?
Whatever, Zach was over analyzing again. Nothing could just be simple, black and white with him. His phone buzzed from the cup holder, making him laugh quietly. It was a text from the person who found the most pleasure in teasing Zach about his “entirely unnecessary introspection.”
I sort of slept with this girl last night…
Zach’s mirth died while he read the message, then again, before pecking out a response and waiting for the punch line.
Not funny.
Chris thought he was hysterical, but his jokes fell flat at least as often as they hit their mark. Whatever he was playing at this time was probably going to be extremely unseemly and, good day or not, Zach wasn’t sure he had this much patience.
He drove for another few blocks, letting the day rally his good mood again, before the phone in his hand buzzed. He was smirking as he checked it, certain Chris would be professing that “No, this is hilarious. Really!”
Not joking. Im really sorry
The colors around him started to fade. That previously bright sunlight streaming through the windows suddenly forgot how to carry warmth. Zach felt cold. Impossibly, entirely icy. His blood may have frozen in his veins for all the good it was doing. He couldn’t even actually force himself to move; luckily, he was at a red light.
At a red light while his world shook and important, vastly imperative pieces began to disintegrate into the nothingness of rubble and dirt. It felt like the aftermath of an earthquake.
An earthquake would probably hurt less.
His grip turned white knuckled as he stared at the small screen displaying the simple characters he’d known since kindergarten. How could basic, nonthreatening shapes suddenly develop sharp edges? More importantly, how could something that had worked so well suddenly fall apart?
Small snippets of scenes plagued his memory as he tried to figure out exactly where this had gone wrong.
######
It had started as easily as their friendship. One night, most of the cast had been hanging around having beers at Zach’s. When they finally cleared out, Chris stayed behind. Chris had stayed behind fairly frequently, actually.
Beer bottles clacked against each other in the recycle bin as Zach cleared the counter, suddenly wondering what had happened to Chris. When he turned, his friend was right there, a breath away. Zach met his eyes before he could force his extensive vocabulary to actually cooperate with him.
There was a new expression in Chris’ eyes this time, something making them seem ocean blue instead of sky. The juxtaposition of the thought made Zach laugh, albeit maybe a bit hysterically which was ridiculous, but Chris only stepped closer.
He brought a hand up to trace Zach’s jaw before pressing their lips together. Zach was surprised even if he’d seen it coming. His body froze while he was barraged by a hundred reasons they shouldn’t cross this line. Then Chris moved closer, hands falling to his waist while their legs slotted together like it didn’t take any maneuvering. The thoughts stopped and Zach found himself lacing his fingers through Chris’ hair, tugging him closer, closer, and running his tongue across Chris’ lower lip in an odd counter to Chris’ own nervous habit. It stopped instantly, abruptly and Zach whined quietly.
“Nothing changes?” Chris’ eyes were piercing and there was something like pleading behind his tone.
“Nothing. Never,” Zach had promised before he could stop himself. If it meant he could actually have Chris, Zach would probably have promised anything.
A month later and they were practically living in each other’s pockets, possessions mixed at their respective homes and Zach may have been wearing Chris’ shirts more often than his own.
And it had been great, fun, happy; the joking, touching, playing… It was probably the easiest and best relationship Zach had ever had… Until, when?
######
Horns were blaring obnoxiously from somewhere behind him, bringing Zach back to the world and away from the recesses of his own mind. The light was yellow, having cycled completely back through the green. His foot fell heavy on the accelerator, but the rush of beating the red was nonexistent.
Everything was a red light, including his vision. As quickly as the absolute pain had started, the burning anger invaded. Chris was telling him he…cheated on him? Through a text message?
A god damned, mother fucking text message!
This was unacceptable. Before his consciousness had caught up with his nervous system, Zach found himself parked against the curb outside Chris’ building; and, damnet, he could never find a parking spot this close when it was for something less painful than an impending break up. With his best friend.
So this is what it feels like….
######
Chris was sitting in the floor, throwing cards into a hat when Zach arrived at his apartment one evening. From the looks of things, this game wasn’t one of Chris’ skills. That almost made Zach smug, finding things Chris couldn’t do with perfect ease; it was actually a difficult endeavor sometimes.
Zach smirked when the door shut behind him. “It’s all in the wrist, you know.”
That card didn’t even come close. Chris sent him a flirty grin, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Only because your mouth is usually involved.” Zach crossed the room and nudged Chris’ hip with the toe of his shoe. “And who’s really going to complain about that mouth?”
Laughing, Chris closed a hand around his forearm and hauled him unceremoniously to the floor.
“Ow,” Zach deadpanned, pouting. It didn’t work but Chris rewarded the effort with a kiss. Shifting around, Zach stretched his legs out under the coffee table and leaned into his boyfriend’s side. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Avoiding the paparazzi. They’re stalking me.”
Zach gave an empathetic nod (they’d had this discussion) and wrapped a warm arm around Chris’ shoulders. “They’ll find a target that isn’t us soon enough. Lindsay or Britney will do something insane.”
Chris was unnaturally rigid. Frowning, Zach pressed his thumb into the muscles along Chris’ shoulder. When that didn’t work, he started flexing his other fingers, moving his hand to the back of Chris’ neck. With a sigh, Chris dropped his head forward and leaned into Zach’s ministrations.
“You’re aware this is risky, right?” A whispered rhetorical wasn’t enough to stop Zachary Quinto from making commentary.
“Yes, Christopher.” They had also had this conversation. If Zach had been younger, the topic would have caused a near panic. “That is why we’re careful. A bromance is a brilliant cover.”
A chuckle, maybe an actual laugh, would have followed this if Chris hadn’t suddenly leaned away. Zach’s eyebrows furrowed while Chris gestured vaguely, trying to express something but failing.
“Use your words, Chris.” In retrospect, he shouldn’t have said that. It was sarcastic and slightly sharp, but Zach didn’t like where this was going. Not that he had the vaguest idea where that actually was. Sometimes Chris’ spontaneous nature was a hindrance on effective communication.
“Don’t be passive aggressive, Zach,” Chris muttered and braced his elbows on the sofa seat to pull himself out of the floor and onto it. “I don’t mean us in general. I mean us as in…” Tongue darting out to lick the corner of him lips, hand roughly through his hair, fragmented nonsense sentences: all signs of a nervous Chris Pine. Normally, they were on the same page and Zach could fill in the blank spots for him. That strange connection, the chemistry between them failed this time.
Chris heaved a sigh. “Six months is my unsurpassed relationship length.”
“You were with Beau longer than that,” Zach pointed out straining as he twisted so he could read Chris’ expressions. Maybe they hadn’t actually had this specific conversation.
“Off and on,” he disagreed. “I never make it past six solid months. That’s with women. I only make it four with men.”
“That’s because you live in a closet,” Zach sighed. Why did Chris always have these strange mood swings at inopportune moments? Mimicking his earlier move, Zach sat close beside him again. “Which I technically do, too. That’s why this works. We share similar concerns.”
Chris made a move like he just wanted to shake Zach, but Zach was unfazed. Actually, he leaned closer, forcing Chris to lean to the side and turn toward him.
“Are your mental facilities lacking today?” When Zach gave him another raised eyebrow, Chris closed his eyes and continued. “Everything is going to fall apart. Statistically speaking, it should have already. I’m trying to tell you that we’re both going to get hurt in the near future. This is a warning.”
Zach’s challenging look shifted into confusion, not that Chris was looking. No, Chris’ eyes were screwed shut, forehead wrinkled in concentration and his posture stiff once more. “Chris. Look at me?”
His eyes slid open and Zach hated the look he saw in Chris’ eyes, pain like he hadn’t seen out of character before. He really was worried about this. Carefully, Zach reached out to frame the younger man’s face in his hands. It was silent until Zach leaned their foreheads together. Some of Chris’ tension melted away at the contact, but his eyes dropped.
“I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. Stop speaking in statistics.” He pressed his lips to Chris’ forehead. “That’s my job.” Zach saw the laugh lines before the actual smile, shifting to kiss those instead.
Master of situations, Zach had changed the subject. “Why are you using my hat for target practice?”
Chris had laughed and never mentioned it again. Sometimes, however, when he thought Zach didn’t see, he got that look again. Zach never mentioned it, but maybe he should have.
######
Oh, hell no. Zach was not going to be some angst ridden teenage girl and blame himself for this. This was not his fault, nowhere even remotely close. He slammed a hand against the steering wheel and all but broke the key off in the ignition as he turned the car off.
Anger. He was going to be angry and he was getting answers. Anger and answers. Zach repeated the mantra to himself to keep the goal in mind as he made his way to Chris’ door. For the first time in longer than he cared to consider, Zach knocked.
There was shuffling from inside, socks on carpet, before the door opened slowly.
Chris’ eyes flared wide for a second before he regained himself and stepped back. Not that Zach gave him much option, shouldering past him and into the living room.
“You need a maid,” Zach muttered as he took in the mess. Before Chris could complete whatever he was trying to convey with the senseless “Yeah, well, yeah, you know,” Zach turned to stare him down. Intimidation wasn’t normally hard for Zach to accomplish; he just slipped a little into what Karl called his “holier-than-though” persona or invoked a bit of Sylar and he was there.
But he had never tried this with Chris. When he saw that Chris clearly hadn’t slept, his hair in completely random directions and bags under his eyes, Zach almost let concern get in the way. Then Chris set his phone on the table and Zach remembered.
“The hell, Christopher?” Real articulate there, Quinto.
“Is this about the text?” Innocent puppy eyes met his. The expression was dangerous, forcing Zach to stare at his nose instead.
“No, this is about my belt you lost last week,” he snapped.
“Zach,” Chris whispered, clearly miserable. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t appreciate trite.” This wasn’t entirely true, but Zach didn’t give him time to comment. “Catch me up. What the hell happened?”
“I went out with some people,” Chris shrugged. His eyes dropped and suddenly he wasn’t in front of Zach anymore. No, he was pacing. Zach crossed his arms and followed the movement with his eyes. “Hadn’t seen them in a while, not since Trek took over and wanted to catch up.”
“So you were in a bar.” There was no question there.
Chris nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t even know what I was drinking at the end. We just kept getting rounds of whatever one of us liked. Some people recognized me, I played nice.” Without stopping his feet, he stole a sideways glance at Zach, which Zach pretended to miss. “There was this blonde. Said something about being in Playboy, next thing I know, we’re in my car.”
He was trying to wait for the rest of the story; Zach really, really was. The heat was creeping up his face, though and that seemed to cancel out what his throat was capable of restraining. “For the love of God, tell me you didn’t bring her here.”
“No!” Chris’ voice was higher than usual. The silence stretched on until Zach nodded, at least this was something. “She lived close by, I took her home. Went in for a drink…” Stopping suddenly, he looked at Zach without lifting his head. “You don’t want the details after that.”
“Maybe I do,” Zach whispered, walking closer. At the last second, Zach remembered that Chris had never learned the concept of personal space and a lack of it was comforting for him. Changing course, he headed for the armchair across the room but didn’t sit. “Maybe I want to know everything you did to her, every little fucking sound she made. Maybe I want the specifics of what made her so worth it.”
“She wasn’t worth it!” Chris hadn’t missed a beat and was starting to either pace again or move closer to Zach. Zach shook his head and Chris must have seen something in his stance or face to halt the steps. “I never meant to do anything like that. I would never…”
“But you did.” Yelling was out of the question. It would have felt nice, fucking fantastic actually, but Zach wasn’t letting Chris have the satisfaction of seeing him worked up over this, though his language was a fairly massive indicator on its own. “You picked up some slut at a bar. Fucked her. Sent me a text message. Really, Chris? That’s the best you can do? Someone with as many breakups as you should be able to swing something more eloquent.”
When Chris didn’t say anything, Zach went on. “You! Of all people!” Maybe that no yelling concept wasn’t going to work so well after all. “You’re the one who complains about the press, about the more intense fans, and you pick up some Playmate fangirl?”
Chris was biting his lip and Zach could just barely make out the way his pocket moved as he twisted his fingers. There wasn’t going to be any eye contact for this and Zach wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Those beautiful fucking blue eyes were so expressive they probably would have undone him; but, at the same time, Zach almost wanted to see what Chris thought of all this. Was he sincerely upset or was it the act? This is why you shouldn’t date fucking actors, Zach reminded himself.
“I never want to so much as hear someone else say you’re bitching about the attention again. You clearly grew accustomed to it. Or you lied and wanted it the whole time. Wouldn’t shock me. Are you really that desperate for attention that you’ll use any excuse just because I was busy?”
The communicative eyes shot up and Zach almost backed down. Instead, he forced himself to step forward. The burning in his chest was making him act strangely, lash out. He wanted Chris to hurt the way he did. He stopped when they were nearly chest-to-chest.
“Everything falls apart? It’s a risk? You said that,” Zach snapped. When Chris took a step back, Zach grabbed his arms. “Want to know the reason? You turn into a whiny fucking bitch and ruin it.”
“Zach,” Chris muttered and Zach almost didn’t recognize his own name. Chris voice had all but broken on the word. “No. God, I’m sorry.”
“Lie. Act. Whatever.” Why couldn’t Chris have lied to begin with? Why couldn’t he just keep Zach in the dark and pretend it never happened? Was this just to get it off his chest or did he think he really owed Zach that much?
Zach shook him a bit. Then he let go, recoiled like he’d been burned, leaving Chris to stumble a step backwards. Chris’ expression, God, Zach could see straight through it. His eyes were glassy, regret and something deeper filling them. His mouth was slightly open, like he was going to say something in retaliation; Zach suspected he may actually beg. He smirked.
Then it hit him. What was he doing? The knot in his chest was tighter than before his outburst, a pervading ache taking over the rest of his senses. This wasn’t him. Granted, he and Chris fed off each other, it’s why they worked; but this was too much. Zach wasn’t even recognizing himself and he needed to put some distance between what Chris was doing to him even when Chris wasn’t doing anything other than looking like he’d been kicked. And it hurt, so fucking much, no matter what Chris did to know he had twisted that expression into what it was.
“I’m done.” Even he wasn’t sure if he meant with the conversation or them. Leaving it open for interpretation, Zach strode toward the door. Chris said something but there was too much white noise in his ears, blood rushing, for Zach to understand. “Just don’t. I’m done.”
He didn’t look back. Even when he was in his car and safely away from the wounded look in Chris’ eyes, one of the looks Zach knew he couldn’t hide even with a Herculean effort, he didn’t look back.
So this is how it ends…
PART TWO
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