Risk [3/3] ;; PG-13
Jul. 29th, 2009 01:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bootsonTitle: Risk [3/3] (or "Scare Me")
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R, there's a LOT of profanity, let me know if I should change it up)
Summary: Chris makes a mistake. Zach barely handles it. Chris deals…poorly.
Wordcount: 5,980
Warnings: Angst, language, angst, some self-indulgent fluff
Disclaimer: Clearly, this is a nonprofit product of my warped and depraved mind. I deal in lies, kids.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chellealistic this is why she's my favorite.
AN: Italics indicate flashbacks. Also, POV shifts around the flashbacks and then merges because I couldn’t reconcile myself to only writing this through one of them….and not writing an alternate (which seemed like overkill and extremely self-indulgent).This part fought with me, but I think I won in the end.
Part One
Part Two
AN2: If you really want to see my super random/generally awesome “mood music” list for this part, it’s at the end because it is longer and contains less country.
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Several things happened in rapid succession: a single groan reverberated around the room, light so bright it may possibly have been The Light threatened to scorch his retinas, and he made a blind lurch for the toilet. At this point, Chris was lucky to manage dry heaving, which hurt like hell all on its own.
When the urge subsided, Chris fought the blur of swirling colors that was his bathroom to grope around blindly for a towel or a pillow or something. He came away from the effort with a three-quarters empty bottle of water. Twisting the cap off was daunting, but he was victorious. As the room temperature liquid hit his tongue, the cotton started to wash away. Mistakenly, he released another groan, one so loud that Chris’ frontal lobe made a valiant effort to detach from the rest of his brain.
At least the pain meant he had somehow survived.
Now that his pupils had gone back to properly regulating light, Chris semi-crawled toward the sink and pulled himself up. Hangover 101: Brush your teeth. His dental regiment was rather extensive; but, as it were, he amended the process and settled for gargling mouthwash, brushing with too much toothpaste, and gargling again.
While he worked on chasing the taste of stale alcohol and bile out of his mouth, he tried to replay last night. This wasn’t a new task, having spent many a weekend trying to recreate a precise sequence of events, but Chris was having extra difficulty. Briefly, he studied the haunted look his eyes had acquired before focusing on the stubble, that’s when it hit.
A flash of random events, largely in text message format, flooded his mind. His eyes slammed shut as he tried to piece together the proper order and got a lot of gist that ended with Karl’s mocking voice. Reality returned and the alcohol of the mouthwash had stopped burning so he leaned to spit and swayed, unsteady.
In an extraordinarily uncoordinated move, he threw an arm toward the wall and misjudged. His shoulder hit it at an awkward angle instead, about the same time a different sensation touched his wrist, pulling sharply until he was properly on his feet. A similarly warm sensation followed, on his shoulder, to reassert his balance before he cracked his skull open on the counter’s edge.
“Jesus, Chris,” a familiar, raspy voice muttered.
His eyes flew open, taking in Zach’s appearance even if he was a little blurry around the edges. He knew there was an inordinate amount of things he should be saying, something akin to groveling being on the short version of the list, but his normally partially active vocal censor was down. The first logical thing he came out with was: “Why are you here?”
Zach quirked an eyebrow. “Karl.”
Chris nodded as if that answered everything. “But…” Then he took in the rest of Zach’s appearance. The clothes were familiar, not because Chris had seen him wearing them yesterday but because they were from the Quinto I’m-a-hot-piece-of-ass-and-you-better-recognize summer line. Which brought to mind how wrinkled his shirt was. Which meant he slept in his clothes…or left them balled up on some guy’s floor.
This revelation brought a new and unrelated wave of nausea. Gulping, Chris forced his stare to the floor but still felt Zach’s eyes burning a god damned hole in his scalp. “I don’t have alcohol poisoning. You can go.”
A firm grip latched onto his shoulders, reclaiming his attention. “You really try to make me hate you sometimes, don’t you?” Zach’s voice was resigned instead of accusatory, so soft that Chris was honestly surprised he could distinguish it from the heartbeat in his ears.
Gulping in a breath that shook a lot more than he anticipated, Chris shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Come on, rebel without a clue.”
Then he was being pulled through his apartment without registering what was happening, but he’d follow Zach through fucking hell and back if that made any difference so the destination was irrelevant.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his already over-taxed senses before he was being manhandled into a kitchen chair. Seconds later, a bottle of Advil and a cup of black coffee were in front of him.
“Sugar?” As if he had the right to ask Zach for anything.
The older man huffed. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.” That was Zach-speak for Like I really don’t know your hangover remedy of choice.
Chris didn’t comment, focusing on a losing battle with the bottle until Zach snatched it out of his hands and preceded to hand him three.
“This is why I love you,” he mumbled as he threw the pills into his mouth and washed them down with scalding liquid. The burn on his tongue was the least of what he deserved.
“So glad I can be replaced by Lamill,” Zach mumbled.
Realizing what his stupid mouth had said, Chris went completely rigid, tongue wetting the corner of his chapped lips to buy time. It was too early, he was too slow and entirely too hungover to have this conversation. Not that many other options were available. “Shit, Zach. I’m sorry. I know, it doesn’t help-“
“Not in the slightest. Nice to hear, granted, but it’s not entirely salutary.”
“At least you got your revenge. Kudos.” Chris lifted his coffee to muffle his words and hide his face.
“You are not allowed to be angry about that,” Zach pointed out in his best business-voice.
Chris made some grunt-sniffle hybrid sound. “I know, but it still fucking hurts, okay?”
Zach covered the top of his mug and guided it back to the table. “Good.”
Their eyes caught and Chris tried to look away, wanted to see anything but whatever Zach was trying to communicate with those deep as a fucking well brown eyes of his. But who knew how long he’d be allowed to do this anymore so he couldn’t bring himself to avert his gaze.
“So help me, if you start crying on me, Pine, I’ll punch you and then mock you for eternity…and in mixed company.” Was he imagining it or was that closer to Zach’s normal voice? There was still broken glass behind his words, but he didn’t seem to be intentionally trying to cut into Chris anymore. Small miracles.
Blinking rapidly, Chris cleared his vision, not having actually realized how damp his eyes were becoming. He wasn’t fully in control of himself yet, but he was trying. If Zach wanted him to keep a straight face, he’d pull it off…somehow.
“Sorry, I…” He was whispering, but Zach was leaning so close Chris could feel the warmth radiate off him and smell the smoke that clung to his clothing. “I understand, but I…I don’t know.”
Zach smirked at the whine in his voice and Chris nearly lunged across the table at him because a smirk was so much better than a scowl. He didn’t know what was happening, why Zach was here or how this was going to play out, but he was eating up every second because Zach was right there and apparently he needed to see Zach to be okay with whatever was happening inside his head.
“Story time.”
“Should I be in the floor on a mat for this?” Chris nearly hit himself, but it was such a knee-jerk reaction to antagonize Zach that he couldn’t quite stop it.
Zach ignored him anyway. “You need to hear about what Zoe missed.” Chris never had the chance to beg him not to.
######
He had called Kristen in a fit of rage, Zoe in a panic, and Joe when the ladies didn’t answer. Zach was trying to drive through shaking hands and incomprehensible traffic, blurry eyes and a flurry of unrelated noise. Sorting out his emotions had been impossible and before he could even start separating his thoughts into piles, Chris was calling and he was at Joe’s.
The world had seemed to revolve slowly at the time, but Zach felt like he’d missed the majority of the afternoon. The conversations had become a disjointed stream of whining, bitching, trash-talking, and a lot of questions no one had any answers to. Because the only person who could answer his or their friends’ questions was the same person whose calls he was screening.
When he went home to dig something bar worthy out of his closet, he told Zoe to get rid of Chris. He needed some metaphorical distance and Chris’ desperation was becoming apparent. If Chris kept asking, Zach wouldn’t stand a chance of resisting.
Oddly enough, Zach wasn’t sure what he was wearing. He assumed it matched and he wouldn’t end up photographed looking ridiculous, though he could always claim he was being ironic since he tended to get away with that sort of thing. When he finally made it to Akbar, Kristen and Zoe were already there, waiting discreetly in a dark corner.
“Are you taking hints from TMZ?” There wasn’t enough inflection for it to be an actual question. They laughed and pulled at him, chattering nonsense in his ears until his shoulders loosened.
It was loud and Kristen seemed to make it her personal goal to ensure his drink was bottomless. Some blond with muddy eyes caught his attention and Zach was happier to sit, tug at Zoe, bicker with Kristen, and pretend he wasn’t nursing a broken heart, but when in Rome. So he danced and the guy had even less rhythm than Chris, if that was possible, and Zach was only too happy to get away at the first opportunity. As he disentangled himself from Muddy Eyes, he noticed Zoe’s cell was practically glued to her hand even as her eyes were trained on him.
This did not bode well.
“Zoe,” Zach cooed, sliding into the seat beside her. She jerked, shielding the phone under her arm. “Whatcha doing?” His voice had a distinctively whiny-Chris quality, but the thought didn’t bear repeating.
“Texting. Nothing. Where’s Kristen?” For someone so graceful, Zoe failed at surreptitious.
Her phone lit up before Zach could call her on her behavior. “Better get that.”
She shifted and tried to hide the screen while opening the message. Zach, always too observant, caught the small picture and contact name “Chrisy Blue Eyes” (which was a ridiculously cheesy throwback to a Hugh Grant marathon she had forced them into and Zach suspected she only kept it to taunt Chris and/or himself).
The temperature in the room sky rocketed as the anger he had been holding at bay seeped back in. Zoe was playing double fucking agent on him! Rationally, she was Chris’ friend as much as she was his, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, Zach turned and scanned the crowd. If she was reporting on him, he was going to give her something to talk about, and just fucking great - now Bonnie Raitt was stuck in his head. Beautiful.
A semi-familiar face caught his attention and never let it be said Zachary Quinto wasn’t a manipulative bastard when the situation called. He kissed Zoe’s cheek before collecting all his bravado and strutting determinately toward the man.
He resembled Chris, vaguely. The eyes weren’t quite as bright and his hair was a little too light. There was a lack of scars which wouldn’t let Zach confuse himself; Chris’ scars were actually highly valuable to him because they made Chris something different than the cliché Hollywood Hunk the media tried to make him.
When the man caught sight of him, he grinned and Zach grasped his shoulder in a friendly gesture. “You worked for Joe Quinto, right?”
“For about a minute,” the man nodded. “We met once. You probably forgot. Jay.” He held out a hand and Zach shook it, humbled that he hadn’t remembered more than the face.
They chatted mostly about his brother, Zach bought a couple drinks, worked in a couple dances, kept his attention on Zoe and Kristen as often as courtesy would allow, and then laid it on the line.
“I’m aware this is going to sound like a come on, but do you need a ride?”
Jay knocked back his drink, blue eyes glassy and too gray. “Probably shouldn’t drive myself.”
Before he could say anything else, Zach let go of propriety and grasped the guy’s wrist to pull him toward the exit. He held Kristen’s eyes for a second and couldn’t tell if she was shocked, appalled, proud, or excited. Five minutes would probably be sufficient for Kristen to tell Zoe and Zoe to tattle, leaving Zach smug with vindication. Zoe was going to make a mistake and he knew it was going to rub Chris’ nerves raw, was counting on both.
“If you were trying to get me drunk and take me home, mission accomplished, Mr. Spock.”
With irritation still just under the surface, Zach barely contained himself from shoving the stumbling man to the floor and leaving him to be trampled by other errant drunks. Instead, he shoved his way through the heat of the crowd and the beat of the music. While adjusting to the slightly cooler atmosphere outside, Zach turned to stare Jay down.
“Calling you a cab.” Confusion crossed Jay’s face, but Zach couldn’t get over how the laugh lines weren’t quite right and the jawline too soft. “I am sorry for leading you on, but I have…alternate plans.” He didn’t stick around to make sure he didn’t get caught in the lie or that Jay made it home on his own.
He went home, sort of slept on the sofa with Harold, and ignored his phone until morning when Karl called three times in a row.
“Doesn’t your phone have a nifty little application that indicates time differences? There’s one between us, you know.” Zach’s voice was raw from a combination of alcohol, yelling, and sleep deprivation.
“Not when I’m down the street, there’s not,” Karl mumbled in response and Zach perked up. “I have things to do and Chris is passed out on the bathroom floor. May have stopped breathing recently, I don’t have time to check.”
While he hadn’t had too much to drink the night before, Zach still had a language comprehension issue. “Huh?”
“Just thought you should know, contrary to everyone else’s brilliant advice, that your boyfriend may have polished off a handle of Jack Daniels last night.”
Zach blanched; he knew how much had been left in that bottle. “Why?”
"I assume because he’s a hot mess after whatever happened with you two.” As if Karl hadn’t heard the story from probably five mutual acquaintances at this point.
“Don’t say hot mess.”
“So I need to call his sister or something or are you going to deal with this?” A car door slammed and an engine started. So Karl was abandoning Chris when he had apparently drunk enough to put the Irish to shame…on St. Patrick’s Day.
“I’ll take care of it.” Even though Zach shouldn’t have to deal with Chris when he was in a downward spiral of his own making, he never considered just going back to sleep. This was how it worked. Chris did something ridiculous and Zach made snide comments until Chris pulled himself back together. Absently, Zach realized Karl probably planned it this way. He also acknowledged that Karl was probably making it sound significantly worse than it actually was, Chris could handle a hangover on his own.
Zach had forced Noah into an early walk, much to Noah’s chagrin, but at least the paparazzi did apparently sleep at some point. He considered going out for coffee but decided rumpled clothing were not ideal for that adventure. Then he had grabbed his keys from the table just inside the door and gone to Chris’ without even pausing for a shower or costume change.
######
Transfixed was the only word Zach could apply to Chris’ expression, other than relieved.
“I just couldn’t be around you. I needed air that…you didn’t occupy,” Zach sighed, rubbing at his eyes just for a break from seeing Chris looking all despondent and simultaneously encouraged. “You might want to read the last ten messages on your phone; Zoe and Kristen were very close to having aneurysms.”
It spun across the table and bounced back an inch when it hit Chris’ mug. Chris didn’t even acknowledge it, still staring at Zach intently, searching for something in his face.
The thing about Chris was, he wore it all right out there when he was around people he trusted. Zach always marveled over the juxtaposition of his own inability to let his thoughts sit right on the edge while Chris never seemed quite able to hide anything he honestly felt. Zach blamed the eyes, but also their personalities. At least it allowed Zach the advantage of forming a vague construct of what Chris was going to say a half second before he said it.
“So, you’re saying, you played us? You were never going to che-“
"You beat me to that,” Zach snapped, nearly wincing when Chris leaned back in his chair with a thud. They needed to have this conversation, but Zach couldn’t assuage the ache in his chest long enough to keep from pushing Chris away.
When had this become all about Chris? Zach sighed and scratched a hand through his already unruly hair. This had always been about Chris, though, hadn’t it? The whole reason this hurt so much was because Chris would never do something like this without a better reason than alcohol; he had more self-restraint. Maybe Zach had too much faith in him when he should be restructuring the image of Chris he had spent so long forming.
“No. I just wanted you to know what it felt like to think you weren’t that important.” Regardless of how honest that was, it had been a childish decision which Zach hated to admit, so he tried to look apologetic. Somehow, it must have worked.
“Makes sense. Don’t worry about it. I’ve earned worse.” A hangover couldn’t be the root cause of the self-deprecating tone. Chris was always pretty confident; this wasn’t a change Zach knew how to handle.
“That implies effort and forethought.” Zach reached out, fingers curling around Chris’ forearm. “And I’d really like to know why. Why now and why her?” Zach sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. If he really wanted anything out of the younger man, he was going to have to give something first. Pulling up a fear he only mentioned in passing the previous day, Zach stared at his fingers. While studying the contrast of his skin against Chris’, Zach forced the rest out. “If you’re just bored of me, I can handle it. Just don’t fucking lie to me, Christopher.”
He hadn’t even blinked before Chris caught his chin, hand cupping around his right cheek to tilt his face up. “I would never pussy out like that. Zach, I can’t get bored of you. You’re…too much.”
So much for that “reading Chris” ability he had been perfecting. His eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher where Chris was taking this. This was that look again, though: the one Chris had when he grew quiet and started asking questions that seemed irrelevant on the outside. Those were the questions Zach knew required specific answers, ones Zach could only partially figure out. This was the look Chris wore when he had put his warning out there.
“I don’t follow,” he whispered, unconsciously leaning toward the warmth and familiarity of Chris’ touch.
“You scare me.”
Zach couldn’t have heard that correctly. Maybe Chris was still too drunk for this, maybe they both were. Zach should probably put this conversation on hold until Chris was fully coherent and Zach wasn’t a step away from pulling him into a tight hug and holding him there until his eyes found their shine again.
“Chris, you’re not making sense.”
The adamant response was instantaneous. “Yes, I am!”
######
The sun hadn’t exactly risen the first time Chris panicked. It was just another random morning of another busy week and Chris wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Zach and stay there. It was still early, so he did just that. As he nuzzled against the crook of Zach’s neck, an arm wrapped loosely around his waist.
Zach wasn’t awake, only stimulated enough by the cuddling to breathe a bit deeper and instinctively reach out. His dark hair was flat on one side and wild on the other, his face more peaceful than Chris ever saw it. God, he was fucking beautiful with the vague strips of sunlight through blinds casting shadows over his torso. The air conditioning made the temperature nearly uncomfortable, but Chris only snuggled closer, unwilling to lose this picture.
Soon enough, Zach would wake up and roll out of bed because he just had to be up and fucking moving around as soon as he opened his eyes. It left Chris as the one who would get so caught up he kissed, sucked, stroked, and whatever-the-hell else he could think of to keep Zach against him just five more minutes, one more minute, twenty seconds. And this made Chris the clingy one and he couldn’t do that again, hadn’t done that in years.
The first time he’d dared to say he “loved” anyone had been one of those silly teen things, but it still hurt when her parents moved to the Midwest, again when college pulled the next girl away from him and failing grades the man after her. The cycle varied, sometimes the relationships deteriorated due to Chris’ schedule, his dreams, how messy he could be. The corrosion of relationships was worse than being abandoned, so Chris stopped getting deeply involved. Once he realized he was invested, Chris found a reason, any reason, to get out.
His throat tightened as he watched the shifting sun scatter less shadows and more golden light across his lover. He knew how much he loved Zach, that it was reciprocated for the moment, but it was how tightly he held onto Zach that made his heart drop into his stomach.
So he wriggled away carefully and rushed through a shower. Chris had planned to sneak out, but Zach was in the kitchen and Noah was running circles around him. His laughter felt as forced as it sounded. Regardless, he let himself be herded into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to stare at Zach sitting at the table wearing only his glasses and boxers.
This was it. He was walking away. Right now. Today. This was it. They’d mourn the loss but heal quickly. Hopefully. But he was nothing if not a coward because this was his best friend and Chris hadn’t dealt with that before.
“I’m going for coffee.”
Zach normally would have raised an eyebrow, Chris knew, but he was rubbing his eyes under the lenses. The thick frames bounced against his knuckles and Chris lost his breath. Even the smallest things, classic Zach mannerisms, had him hooked. He was never going to be able to just leave.
“Coffee actually is just fine when you brew it at home.” Zach’s voice was still slightly rough.
“Blasphemer!” Chris accused, earning him a smile which reached Zach’s eyes.
“I have some really great stuff. In about two minutes,” he finally stopped rubbing his eyes to meet Chris’. Even ringed in an itchy pink color, his eyes were amused. “You won’t have to dodge cars and you’ll get your caffeine fix.”
“Speeding SUVs are part of the rush,” he quipped on reflex.
“I’ll let you lie all over me on the sofa for a while?”
His grin sent daggers into Chris’ chest. Not only had Chris realized how needy he was, but Zach knew. It was too vulnerable for comfort.
Chris forced another laugh, knowing it didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Early rehearsal. Meetings. I don’t have time for you today.”
Zach winked at him. Chris started to leave, pivoting at the last second to stand behind Zach’s chair. Leaning in, he wrapped his arms around the older man’s shoulders, holding tight, desperate.
“Hey.” Breath brushed Chris’ ear with the whisper. “You okay?”
“Fine. See you later?”
Chris hadn’t waited for an answer, blatantly ignoring Zach’s disappointed look when he didn’t get so much as a goodbye kiss. He went about distracting himself with his usual morning routine. He’d planned on distancing himself for a few days but Zach called before he’d even made it home. And Chris couldn’t let it go to voicemail, couldn’t bring himself to follow through on his plan of running. He had decided to simply hope things would be different this time.
######
“This was a defense mechanism?” Incredulity was hard to get across in a whisper, but Zach managed. Chris wasn’t aware he was biting at the skin around his thumbnail until Zach pulled his hand away from his mouth.
Chris hadn’t been sure, but he’d had the whole of the previous night to consider why he decided to go kamikaze with his love life. He also tended to be a philosophical drunk, which was ironic but worked to his advantage. His hyperbolic nature was a hindrance, but he struggled to check it.
“I’m used to being alone, okay?” Aiming his voice toward the table wasn’t conducive to projecting. Zach leaned closer to hear clearly and Chris had to fight to remain still. “It sounds preposterous, but I just don’t depend on people.” Chris furrowed his brow for a moment. “At least who aren’t blood-related. And…I get really fucking codependent around you. And at some point, you’re just not going to be there anymore. Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Getting worked up wasn’t acceptable; he knew that was Zach’s place instead of his. Zach actually didn’t seem too put out by it, but Chris tried to contain himself anyway, mentally shake himself into being a normal person long enough for Zach to actually get fed up. Then things would be like they always were, Chris would be right, the world would turn, and they’d forget about this part of their lives.
Only Chris knew that wasn’t true. He needed Zach substantially more than he needed anyone else. There was some strange bond they shared, one every damn person in the world had seen.
“I don’t give up that easily, Chris.”
######
Someone had decided they should play poker. Chris was practically vibrating with excitement while Zach sulked in the arm chair he’d thrown himself into. With his legs curled up under him, there was plenty of space for Chris to weasel into the floor between the chair and the coffee table. Chris’ energy was only entertaining for a few minutes before Zach clamped his hands down on Chris’ shoulders.
“It’s really not that exciting.” Zach most certainly did not whine.
Chris tilted his head back against Zach’s knee and grinned at him. “Please. You’re only annoyed because you can’t bluff.”
“Are you calling me a sore loser?” Zach tried to be indignant, but he usually fell flat when he was too busy studying shining blue eyes.Plus, it was true. Zach could never figure out what his own tell was and everyone refused to let him in on the secret.
“If the pretentious shoes fit,” Chris shrugged.
Zach pulled at a strand of his hair, Chris leaning away to avoid the assault. Karl was similarly ruffling Anton’s hair while he muttered something about golden retrievers; John was fighting Simon on the perfect ratio of tequila in some drink they had created; Zoe was on a desperate search for a deck of cards. Basically, no one was paying a bit of attention to them, which said something about how often they behaved this way.
“Don’t worry, Zachy, we’ll share a hand,” Chris offered, adopting a stereotypical Valley Girl voice.
Zach shot back with the same inflection. “Fine, Chrissy, only if we play with your money.”
Chris leaned back again, lopsided grin declaring he was about to make a comment about who had more money than God and Angelina combined, which Zach quickly learned not to debate because Chris only made the claim more often afterward.
“Only I call him that!” Zoe protested, folding herself with feline grace at the far end of the table. “Come on, boys!” She called for their attention, dragging the others away from their random pursuits.
Chris dealt first, fielding complaints that this wasn’t a team game, mostly because Karl and Simon knew Zach didn’t stand a chance on his own. They weren’t on a winning streak, but it was close. Everyone knew a Chris-Zach tag team could take them all out in anything from verbal sparring matches to fucking dominoes. Zach refused to acknowledge the moaning each time he and Chris would pretend to be discussing strategy when they had a pair of threes at best.
They took a break for pizza, positions largely unchanged except Chris and Zach moved to the sofa. Chris was heavy against his side and Zach reveled in the feeling, going so far as to tug at Chris’ shirt when his fidgeting moved him too far away.
This garnered attention, but everyone kept that to themselves. Until Chris finished beer number “No one counts after Junior year, Anton!” and shifted until his head was on Zach’s thigh, arm draped over his lap like it belonged there. John snickered as he dealt, called the hand, and positively cackled when Zach lifted the cards. Anton and John shared a conspiratorial huddle; Karl broke them up by saying something too low for Zach to understand but it didn’t sound reproachful.
“Your boyfriend’s asleep,” Anton finally announced, bouncing much the way Chris had when the idea of poker was presented.
Flipping him off, Zach tried not to smile when he looked down. They hadn’t crossed that line, not yet. Maybe they never would, but Zach made a silent resolve that night. If he won a hand all on his own (by bluffing), he was going to make side attempts to escalate the relationship. The first hand was useless, but Zach persisted.
He had, by some bizarre twist of fate, gone on to win twice before Chris woke up.
######
“You can’t just force me out.” Zach intentionally made his expression fierce, at least he hoped it was. His voice was a little too loud for the kitchen and Chris had neighbors to worry about.
Zach didn’t care. He was toeing the line between offended and outraged. If Chris really thought he could get away with this, that Zach was going to let him sabotage not only himself, but them, he had another thing coming. This had been a hurdle, a betrayal Zach wasn’t sure he’d ever fully reconcile himself to, but fighting against Chris was like battling an undercurrent.
Authors had tried to describe it countless times and Zach had never grasped it, but Chris was a force. Things automatically gravitated toward him. He was an enigma, for all his claims to the contrary. He intrigued people because he appeared open but there was clearly more there. When another piece of the mystery clicked into place, like finding a puzzle piece a week after you realized it was missing from the bigger picture, it was impossible to turn away.
Those were the qualities which pulled Zach in and held him like a vice. Those were the things that made Chris, along with the imperfections that Zach had long ago agreed to accept.
“You cheated on me. You aren’t entirely emotionally stable,” Zach started. There was pain in Chris’ eyes again but Zach knew he wanted this, needed something other than unguarded compassion. Hell, Zach needed the release just as much. “You complain too much. You lose everything you touch. You’ve broken half my wine glasses.”
“Only two. You had eight,” Chris had the audacity to glare.
Zach talked over him. “You’ve surpassed simply moody ages ago. You chew with your mouth open. You bite everything from pen caps to your fingernails. The caffeine addiction may actually be clinically diagnosable. You get distracted by shiny objects. I hate your music. Your taste in movies leaves something to be desired. You never clean.”
“I cleaned!” He broke through the rant. Zach looked at him, suppressing a grin when he caught the glint in Chris’ eyes.
Then he scanned the immediate area. “I’ll be damned. This is unprecedented. Momentous. What was the catalyst?”
Chris licked his lips. “Nervous habit.”
Actually grinning this time, Zach left his chair to invade Chris’ personal space. When he saw Chris sigh, eyes only slightly dulled by a hangover but otherwise shining, Zach pressed his hands to the back of Chris’ chair.
“But you still do this…thing.” Zach pressed closer, noses nearly touching. On some level, Zach wanted to hold on to his anger, punish Chris a while longer. Now, though, he understood, somewhat. That’s what Chris expected. Whatever relationships Chris had in the past had left an impression and Zach had to factor that in. It’s not as though he didn’t have his own self-preservation techniques, even if he didn’t usually aim them at Chris.
“What thing?” Chris asked, leaning forward until his lips brushed Zach’s along with his breath.
“You’re…I can’t describe it.”
“Words escape you? We need to document this immediately.”
Everything became a blur of movement. Zach threaded a hand in Chris’ hair, pulling their mouths roughly together with all the force of a branding iron. Which was probably the entire point. Chris gripped the collar of Zach’s shirt, pulling him closer, his mouth falling open enough under the onslaught for Zach to lick at his lips, slide his tongue against Chris’. Chris reciprocated in kind, tangling their tongues until they separated enough for him to nibble Zach’s lower lip, sucking it between his own.
As suddenly as it started, Zach shifted away, both whining quietly. He leaned their heads together, catching his breath, stretching the silence.
Chris broke it first. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“I know.”
“I really never meant…it wasn’t about you.”
Zach laughed because this was straight out of a bad romantic comedy. “I know. I still don’t exactly understand why you don’t just tell me things, dammit.”
Wincing, Chris tried to lean back but Zach tightened his hold and followed. “In my defense, I tried. You didn’t listen.” Chris could have found a dozen more appropriate phrasings, but semantics weren’t exactly where his mind was. He could only process how his hands clutched Zach’s shirt, the way Zach leaned over him at a surely uncomfortable angle.
“You tell things by halves. Subtlety isn’t your forte.”
Nodding, Chris let his eyes fall shut. His chest wasn’t so constricted and his mind felt clear, save the dull ache reminding him how incredibly, unbelievably idiotic he’d been. But Zach was giving him a chance, one he didn’t deserve, one he’d fought to lose. Maybe this time was going to be different.
He brushed his lips against Zach’s, sliding his arms around the other man’s waist. “I love you."
"I know." Zach only fell back on what was apparently his newest catch phrase to hide the way his chest simultaneously expanded and shattered. But he did know, had always known. Chris was neurotic but he loved deeply. It didn't negate what he'd done, not by any means, but it forced Zach to acknowledge the honesty in the pain filled, blue eyes.
"I’m going to make this up to you." Chris was whispering now, pleading in his way.
Zach sighed, already knowing he’d let him, but not willing to admit he was so easy whenever Chris got involved. “You have to work for it. Going to be more difficult than you think.”
“I’ll risk it.”
-fin-
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End Note:
Inspirational Music nonsense:
-"Blur" ~Britney Spears
-"Life on the Moon" ~David Cook
-"Scare Me" ~Kenny Chesney *(This played a BIG part)
-"Be Still" ~Kelly Clarkson
-“Mayfield” ~Augustana
-"Gravity" ~Sara Bareilles
-"Soldier's Poem" ~Muse
-"Beautiful Disaster" ~Kelly Clarkson (the live, SLOW version)
-"All the Same" ~Sick Puppies
-"(Another Song) All Over Again" ~Justin Timberlake
So! I was going to try to give you all some really hot make up sex. It just didn’t flow into it, though; plus, this got longer than I anticipated and I chose the cliché ending instead. I’m about to be without internet for an indeterminate amount of time, which I may use to write that into a “missing scene” or short companion fic.
Hope y’all enjoyed it. Feedback is love!
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R, there's a LOT of profanity, let me know if I should change it up)
Summary: Chris makes a mistake. Zach barely handles it. Chris deals…poorly.
Wordcount: 5,980
Warnings: Angst, language, angst, some self-indulgent fluff
Disclaimer: Clearly, this is a nonprofit product of my warped and depraved mind. I deal in lies, kids.
Beta:
chellealistic this is why she's my favorite.AN: Italics indicate flashbacks. Also, POV shifts around the flashbacks and then merges because I couldn’t reconcile myself to only writing this through one of them….and not writing an alternate (which seemed like overkill and extremely self-indulgent).This part fought with me, but I think I won in the end.
Part One
Part Two
AN2: If you really want to see my super random/generally awesome “mood music” list for this part, it’s at the end because it is longer and contains less country.
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Several things happened in rapid succession: a single groan reverberated around the room, light so bright it may possibly have been The Light threatened to scorch his retinas, and he made a blind lurch for the toilet. At this point, Chris was lucky to manage dry heaving, which hurt like hell all on its own.
When the urge subsided, Chris fought the blur of swirling colors that was his bathroom to grope around blindly for a towel or a pillow or something. He came away from the effort with a three-quarters empty bottle of water. Twisting the cap off was daunting, but he was victorious. As the room temperature liquid hit his tongue, the cotton started to wash away. Mistakenly, he released another groan, one so loud that Chris’ frontal lobe made a valiant effort to detach from the rest of his brain.
At least the pain meant he had somehow survived.
Now that his pupils had gone back to properly regulating light, Chris semi-crawled toward the sink and pulled himself up. Hangover 101: Brush your teeth. His dental regiment was rather extensive; but, as it were, he amended the process and settled for gargling mouthwash, brushing with too much toothpaste, and gargling again.
While he worked on chasing the taste of stale alcohol and bile out of his mouth, he tried to replay last night. This wasn’t a new task, having spent many a weekend trying to recreate a precise sequence of events, but Chris was having extra difficulty. Briefly, he studied the haunted look his eyes had acquired before focusing on the stubble, that’s when it hit.
A flash of random events, largely in text message format, flooded his mind. His eyes slammed shut as he tried to piece together the proper order and got a lot of gist that ended with Karl’s mocking voice. Reality returned and the alcohol of the mouthwash had stopped burning so he leaned to spit and swayed, unsteady.
In an extraordinarily uncoordinated move, he threw an arm toward the wall and misjudged. His shoulder hit it at an awkward angle instead, about the same time a different sensation touched his wrist, pulling sharply until he was properly on his feet. A similarly warm sensation followed, on his shoulder, to reassert his balance before he cracked his skull open on the counter’s edge.
“Jesus, Chris,” a familiar, raspy voice muttered.
His eyes flew open, taking in Zach’s appearance even if he was a little blurry around the edges. He knew there was an inordinate amount of things he should be saying, something akin to groveling being on the short version of the list, but his normally partially active vocal censor was down. The first logical thing he came out with was: “Why are you here?”
Zach quirked an eyebrow. “Karl.”
Chris nodded as if that answered everything. “But…” Then he took in the rest of Zach’s appearance. The clothes were familiar, not because Chris had seen him wearing them yesterday but because they were from the Quinto I’m-a-hot-piece-of-ass-and-you-better-recognize summer line. Which brought to mind how wrinkled his shirt was. Which meant he slept in his clothes…or left them balled up on some guy’s floor.
This revelation brought a new and unrelated wave of nausea. Gulping, Chris forced his stare to the floor but still felt Zach’s eyes burning a god damned hole in his scalp. “I don’t have alcohol poisoning. You can go.”
A firm grip latched onto his shoulders, reclaiming his attention. “You really try to make me hate you sometimes, don’t you?” Zach’s voice was resigned instead of accusatory, so soft that Chris was honestly surprised he could distinguish it from the heartbeat in his ears.
Gulping in a breath that shook a lot more than he anticipated, Chris shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Come on, rebel without a clue.”
Then he was being pulled through his apartment without registering what was happening, but he’d follow Zach through fucking hell and back if that made any difference so the destination was irrelevant.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his already over-taxed senses before he was being manhandled into a kitchen chair. Seconds later, a bottle of Advil and a cup of black coffee were in front of him.
“Sugar?” As if he had the right to ask Zach for anything.
The older man huffed. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.” That was Zach-speak for Like I really don’t know your hangover remedy of choice.
Chris didn’t comment, focusing on a losing battle with the bottle until Zach snatched it out of his hands and preceded to hand him three.
“This is why I love you,” he mumbled as he threw the pills into his mouth and washed them down with scalding liquid. The burn on his tongue was the least of what he deserved.
“So glad I can be replaced by Lamill,” Zach mumbled.
Realizing what his stupid mouth had said, Chris went completely rigid, tongue wetting the corner of his chapped lips to buy time. It was too early, he was too slow and entirely too hungover to have this conversation. Not that many other options were available. “Shit, Zach. I’m sorry. I know, it doesn’t help-“
“Not in the slightest. Nice to hear, granted, but it’s not entirely salutary.”
“At least you got your revenge. Kudos.” Chris lifted his coffee to muffle his words and hide his face.
“You are not allowed to be angry about that,” Zach pointed out in his best business-voice.
Chris made some grunt-sniffle hybrid sound. “I know, but it still fucking hurts, okay?”
Zach covered the top of his mug and guided it back to the table. “Good.”
Their eyes caught and Chris tried to look away, wanted to see anything but whatever Zach was trying to communicate with those deep as a fucking well brown eyes of his. But who knew how long he’d be allowed to do this anymore so he couldn’t bring himself to avert his gaze.
“So help me, if you start crying on me, Pine, I’ll punch you and then mock you for eternity…and in mixed company.” Was he imagining it or was that closer to Zach’s normal voice? There was still broken glass behind his words, but he didn’t seem to be intentionally trying to cut into Chris anymore. Small miracles.
Blinking rapidly, Chris cleared his vision, not having actually realized how damp his eyes were becoming. He wasn’t fully in control of himself yet, but he was trying. If Zach wanted him to keep a straight face, he’d pull it off…somehow.
“Sorry, I…” He was whispering, but Zach was leaning so close Chris could feel the warmth radiate off him and smell the smoke that clung to his clothing. “I understand, but I…I don’t know.”
Zach smirked at the whine in his voice and Chris nearly lunged across the table at him because a smirk was so much better than a scowl. He didn’t know what was happening, why Zach was here or how this was going to play out, but he was eating up every second because Zach was right there and apparently he needed to see Zach to be okay with whatever was happening inside his head.
“Story time.”
“Should I be in the floor on a mat for this?” Chris nearly hit himself, but it was such a knee-jerk reaction to antagonize Zach that he couldn’t quite stop it.
Zach ignored him anyway. “You need to hear about what Zoe missed.” Chris never had the chance to beg him not to.
######
He had called Kristen in a fit of rage, Zoe in a panic, and Joe when the ladies didn’t answer. Zach was trying to drive through shaking hands and incomprehensible traffic, blurry eyes and a flurry of unrelated noise. Sorting out his emotions had been impossible and before he could even start separating his thoughts into piles, Chris was calling and he was at Joe’s.
The world had seemed to revolve slowly at the time, but Zach felt like he’d missed the majority of the afternoon. The conversations had become a disjointed stream of whining, bitching, trash-talking, and a lot of questions no one had any answers to. Because the only person who could answer his or their friends’ questions was the same person whose calls he was screening.
When he went home to dig something bar worthy out of his closet, he told Zoe to get rid of Chris. He needed some metaphorical distance and Chris’ desperation was becoming apparent. If Chris kept asking, Zach wouldn’t stand a chance of resisting.
Oddly enough, Zach wasn’t sure what he was wearing. He assumed it matched and he wouldn’t end up photographed looking ridiculous, though he could always claim he was being ironic since he tended to get away with that sort of thing. When he finally made it to Akbar, Kristen and Zoe were already there, waiting discreetly in a dark corner.
“Are you taking hints from TMZ?” There wasn’t enough inflection for it to be an actual question. They laughed and pulled at him, chattering nonsense in his ears until his shoulders loosened.
It was loud and Kristen seemed to make it her personal goal to ensure his drink was bottomless. Some blond with muddy eyes caught his attention and Zach was happier to sit, tug at Zoe, bicker with Kristen, and pretend he wasn’t nursing a broken heart, but when in Rome. So he danced and the guy had even less rhythm than Chris, if that was possible, and Zach was only too happy to get away at the first opportunity. As he disentangled himself from Muddy Eyes, he noticed Zoe’s cell was practically glued to her hand even as her eyes were trained on him.
This did not bode well.
“Zoe,” Zach cooed, sliding into the seat beside her. She jerked, shielding the phone under her arm. “Whatcha doing?” His voice had a distinctively whiny-Chris quality, but the thought didn’t bear repeating.
“Texting. Nothing. Where’s Kristen?” For someone so graceful, Zoe failed at surreptitious.
Her phone lit up before Zach could call her on her behavior. “Better get that.”
She shifted and tried to hide the screen while opening the message. Zach, always too observant, caught the small picture and contact name “Chrisy Blue Eyes” (which was a ridiculously cheesy throwback to a Hugh Grant marathon she had forced them into and Zach suspected she only kept it to taunt Chris and/or himself).
The temperature in the room sky rocketed as the anger he had been holding at bay seeped back in. Zoe was playing double fucking agent on him! Rationally, she was Chris’ friend as much as she was his, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, Zach turned and scanned the crowd. If she was reporting on him, he was going to give her something to talk about, and just fucking great - now Bonnie Raitt was stuck in his head. Beautiful.
A semi-familiar face caught his attention and never let it be said Zachary Quinto wasn’t a manipulative bastard when the situation called. He kissed Zoe’s cheek before collecting all his bravado and strutting determinately toward the man.
He resembled Chris, vaguely. The eyes weren’t quite as bright and his hair was a little too light. There was a lack of scars which wouldn’t let Zach confuse himself; Chris’ scars were actually highly valuable to him because they made Chris something different than the cliché Hollywood Hunk the media tried to make him.
When the man caught sight of him, he grinned and Zach grasped his shoulder in a friendly gesture. “You worked for Joe Quinto, right?”
“For about a minute,” the man nodded. “We met once. You probably forgot. Jay.” He held out a hand and Zach shook it, humbled that he hadn’t remembered more than the face.
They chatted mostly about his brother, Zach bought a couple drinks, worked in a couple dances, kept his attention on Zoe and Kristen as often as courtesy would allow, and then laid it on the line.
“I’m aware this is going to sound like a come on, but do you need a ride?”
Jay knocked back his drink, blue eyes glassy and too gray. “Probably shouldn’t drive myself.”
Before he could say anything else, Zach let go of propriety and grasped the guy’s wrist to pull him toward the exit. He held Kristen’s eyes for a second and couldn’t tell if she was shocked, appalled, proud, or excited. Five minutes would probably be sufficient for Kristen to tell Zoe and Zoe to tattle, leaving Zach smug with vindication. Zoe was going to make a mistake and he knew it was going to rub Chris’ nerves raw, was counting on both.
“If you were trying to get me drunk and take me home, mission accomplished, Mr. Spock.”
With irritation still just under the surface, Zach barely contained himself from shoving the stumbling man to the floor and leaving him to be trampled by other errant drunks. Instead, he shoved his way through the heat of the crowd and the beat of the music. While adjusting to the slightly cooler atmosphere outside, Zach turned to stare Jay down.
“Calling you a cab.” Confusion crossed Jay’s face, but Zach couldn’t get over how the laugh lines weren’t quite right and the jawline too soft. “I am sorry for leading you on, but I have…alternate plans.” He didn’t stick around to make sure he didn’t get caught in the lie or that Jay made it home on his own.
He went home, sort of slept on the sofa with Harold, and ignored his phone until morning when Karl called three times in a row.
“Doesn’t your phone have a nifty little application that indicates time differences? There’s one between us, you know.” Zach’s voice was raw from a combination of alcohol, yelling, and sleep deprivation.
“Not when I’m down the street, there’s not,” Karl mumbled in response and Zach perked up. “I have things to do and Chris is passed out on the bathroom floor. May have stopped breathing recently, I don’t have time to check.”
While he hadn’t had too much to drink the night before, Zach still had a language comprehension issue. “Huh?”
“Just thought you should know, contrary to everyone else’s brilliant advice, that your boyfriend may have polished off a handle of Jack Daniels last night.”
Zach blanched; he knew how much had been left in that bottle. “Why?”
"I assume because he’s a hot mess after whatever happened with you two.” As if Karl hadn’t heard the story from probably five mutual acquaintances at this point.
“Don’t say hot mess.”
“So I need to call his sister or something or are you going to deal with this?” A car door slammed and an engine started. So Karl was abandoning Chris when he had apparently drunk enough to put the Irish to shame…on St. Patrick’s Day.
“I’ll take care of it.” Even though Zach shouldn’t have to deal with Chris when he was in a downward spiral of his own making, he never considered just going back to sleep. This was how it worked. Chris did something ridiculous and Zach made snide comments until Chris pulled himself back together. Absently, Zach realized Karl probably planned it this way. He also acknowledged that Karl was probably making it sound significantly worse than it actually was, Chris could handle a hangover on his own.
Zach had forced Noah into an early walk, much to Noah’s chagrin, but at least the paparazzi did apparently sleep at some point. He considered going out for coffee but decided rumpled clothing were not ideal for that adventure. Then he had grabbed his keys from the table just inside the door and gone to Chris’ without even pausing for a shower or costume change.
######
Transfixed was the only word Zach could apply to Chris’ expression, other than relieved.
“I just couldn’t be around you. I needed air that…you didn’t occupy,” Zach sighed, rubbing at his eyes just for a break from seeing Chris looking all despondent and simultaneously encouraged. “You might want to read the last ten messages on your phone; Zoe and Kristen were very close to having aneurysms.”
It spun across the table and bounced back an inch when it hit Chris’ mug. Chris didn’t even acknowledge it, still staring at Zach intently, searching for something in his face.
The thing about Chris was, he wore it all right out there when he was around people he trusted. Zach always marveled over the juxtaposition of his own inability to let his thoughts sit right on the edge while Chris never seemed quite able to hide anything he honestly felt. Zach blamed the eyes, but also their personalities. At least it allowed Zach the advantage of forming a vague construct of what Chris was going to say a half second before he said it.
“So, you’re saying, you played us? You were never going to che-“
"You beat me to that,” Zach snapped, nearly wincing when Chris leaned back in his chair with a thud. They needed to have this conversation, but Zach couldn’t assuage the ache in his chest long enough to keep from pushing Chris away.
When had this become all about Chris? Zach sighed and scratched a hand through his already unruly hair. This had always been about Chris, though, hadn’t it? The whole reason this hurt so much was because Chris would never do something like this without a better reason than alcohol; he had more self-restraint. Maybe Zach had too much faith in him when he should be restructuring the image of Chris he had spent so long forming.
“No. I just wanted you to know what it felt like to think you weren’t that important.” Regardless of how honest that was, it had been a childish decision which Zach hated to admit, so he tried to look apologetic. Somehow, it must have worked.
“Makes sense. Don’t worry about it. I’ve earned worse.” A hangover couldn’t be the root cause of the self-deprecating tone. Chris was always pretty confident; this wasn’t a change Zach knew how to handle.
“That implies effort and forethought.” Zach reached out, fingers curling around Chris’ forearm. “And I’d really like to know why. Why now and why her?” Zach sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. If he really wanted anything out of the younger man, he was going to have to give something first. Pulling up a fear he only mentioned in passing the previous day, Zach stared at his fingers. While studying the contrast of his skin against Chris’, Zach forced the rest out. “If you’re just bored of me, I can handle it. Just don’t fucking lie to me, Christopher.”
He hadn’t even blinked before Chris caught his chin, hand cupping around his right cheek to tilt his face up. “I would never pussy out like that. Zach, I can’t get bored of you. You’re…too much.”
So much for that “reading Chris” ability he had been perfecting. His eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher where Chris was taking this. This was that look again, though: the one Chris had when he grew quiet and started asking questions that seemed irrelevant on the outside. Those were the questions Zach knew required specific answers, ones Zach could only partially figure out. This was the look Chris wore when he had put his warning out there.
“I don’t follow,” he whispered, unconsciously leaning toward the warmth and familiarity of Chris’ touch.
“You scare me.”
Zach couldn’t have heard that correctly. Maybe Chris was still too drunk for this, maybe they both were. Zach should probably put this conversation on hold until Chris was fully coherent and Zach wasn’t a step away from pulling him into a tight hug and holding him there until his eyes found their shine again.
“Chris, you’re not making sense.”
The adamant response was instantaneous. “Yes, I am!”
######
The sun hadn’t exactly risen the first time Chris panicked. It was just another random morning of another busy week and Chris wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Zach and stay there. It was still early, so he did just that. As he nuzzled against the crook of Zach’s neck, an arm wrapped loosely around his waist.
Zach wasn’t awake, only stimulated enough by the cuddling to breathe a bit deeper and instinctively reach out. His dark hair was flat on one side and wild on the other, his face more peaceful than Chris ever saw it. God, he was fucking beautiful with the vague strips of sunlight through blinds casting shadows over his torso. The air conditioning made the temperature nearly uncomfortable, but Chris only snuggled closer, unwilling to lose this picture.
Soon enough, Zach would wake up and roll out of bed because he just had to be up and fucking moving around as soon as he opened his eyes. It left Chris as the one who would get so caught up he kissed, sucked, stroked, and whatever-the-hell else he could think of to keep Zach against him just five more minutes, one more minute, twenty seconds. And this made Chris the clingy one and he couldn’t do that again, hadn’t done that in years.
The first time he’d dared to say he “loved” anyone had been one of those silly teen things, but it still hurt when her parents moved to the Midwest, again when college pulled the next girl away from him and failing grades the man after her. The cycle varied, sometimes the relationships deteriorated due to Chris’ schedule, his dreams, how messy he could be. The corrosion of relationships was worse than being abandoned, so Chris stopped getting deeply involved. Once he realized he was invested, Chris found a reason, any reason, to get out.
His throat tightened as he watched the shifting sun scatter less shadows and more golden light across his lover. He knew how much he loved Zach, that it was reciprocated for the moment, but it was how tightly he held onto Zach that made his heart drop into his stomach.
So he wriggled away carefully and rushed through a shower. Chris had planned to sneak out, but Zach was in the kitchen and Noah was running circles around him. His laughter felt as forced as it sounded. Regardless, he let himself be herded into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to stare at Zach sitting at the table wearing only his glasses and boxers.
This was it. He was walking away. Right now. Today. This was it. They’d mourn the loss but heal quickly. Hopefully. But he was nothing if not a coward because this was his best friend and Chris hadn’t dealt with that before.
“I’m going for coffee.”
Zach normally would have raised an eyebrow, Chris knew, but he was rubbing his eyes under the lenses. The thick frames bounced against his knuckles and Chris lost his breath. Even the smallest things, classic Zach mannerisms, had him hooked. He was never going to be able to just leave.
“Coffee actually is just fine when you brew it at home.” Zach’s voice was still slightly rough.
“Blasphemer!” Chris accused, earning him a smile which reached Zach’s eyes.
“I have some really great stuff. In about two minutes,” he finally stopped rubbing his eyes to meet Chris’. Even ringed in an itchy pink color, his eyes were amused. “You won’t have to dodge cars and you’ll get your caffeine fix.”
“Speeding SUVs are part of the rush,” he quipped on reflex.
“I’ll let you lie all over me on the sofa for a while?”
His grin sent daggers into Chris’ chest. Not only had Chris realized how needy he was, but Zach knew. It was too vulnerable for comfort.
Chris forced another laugh, knowing it didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Early rehearsal. Meetings. I don’t have time for you today.”
Zach winked at him. Chris started to leave, pivoting at the last second to stand behind Zach’s chair. Leaning in, he wrapped his arms around the older man’s shoulders, holding tight, desperate.
“Hey.” Breath brushed Chris’ ear with the whisper. “You okay?”
“Fine. See you later?”
Chris hadn’t waited for an answer, blatantly ignoring Zach’s disappointed look when he didn’t get so much as a goodbye kiss. He went about distracting himself with his usual morning routine. He’d planned on distancing himself for a few days but Zach called before he’d even made it home. And Chris couldn’t let it go to voicemail, couldn’t bring himself to follow through on his plan of running. He had decided to simply hope things would be different this time.
######
“This was a defense mechanism?” Incredulity was hard to get across in a whisper, but Zach managed. Chris wasn’t aware he was biting at the skin around his thumbnail until Zach pulled his hand away from his mouth.
Chris hadn’t been sure, but he’d had the whole of the previous night to consider why he decided to go kamikaze with his love life. He also tended to be a philosophical drunk, which was ironic but worked to his advantage. His hyperbolic nature was a hindrance, but he struggled to check it.
“I’m used to being alone, okay?” Aiming his voice toward the table wasn’t conducive to projecting. Zach leaned closer to hear clearly and Chris had to fight to remain still. “It sounds preposterous, but I just don’t depend on people.” Chris furrowed his brow for a moment. “At least who aren’t blood-related. And…I get really fucking codependent around you. And at some point, you’re just not going to be there anymore. Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Getting worked up wasn’t acceptable; he knew that was Zach’s place instead of his. Zach actually didn’t seem too put out by it, but Chris tried to contain himself anyway, mentally shake himself into being a normal person long enough for Zach to actually get fed up. Then things would be like they always were, Chris would be right, the world would turn, and they’d forget about this part of their lives.
Only Chris knew that wasn’t true. He needed Zach substantially more than he needed anyone else. There was some strange bond they shared, one every damn person in the world had seen.
“I don’t give up that easily, Chris.”
######
Someone had decided they should play poker. Chris was practically vibrating with excitement while Zach sulked in the arm chair he’d thrown himself into. With his legs curled up under him, there was plenty of space for Chris to weasel into the floor between the chair and the coffee table. Chris’ energy was only entertaining for a few minutes before Zach clamped his hands down on Chris’ shoulders.
“It’s really not that exciting.” Zach most certainly did not whine.
Chris tilted his head back against Zach’s knee and grinned at him. “Please. You’re only annoyed because you can’t bluff.”
“Are you calling me a sore loser?” Zach tried to be indignant, but he usually fell flat when he was too busy studying shining blue eyes.Plus, it was true. Zach could never figure out what his own tell was and everyone refused to let him in on the secret.
“If the pretentious shoes fit,” Chris shrugged.
Zach pulled at a strand of his hair, Chris leaning away to avoid the assault. Karl was similarly ruffling Anton’s hair while he muttered something about golden retrievers; John was fighting Simon on the perfect ratio of tequila in some drink they had created; Zoe was on a desperate search for a deck of cards. Basically, no one was paying a bit of attention to them, which said something about how often they behaved this way.
“Don’t worry, Zachy, we’ll share a hand,” Chris offered, adopting a stereotypical Valley Girl voice.
Zach shot back with the same inflection. “Fine, Chrissy, only if we play with your money.”
Chris leaned back again, lopsided grin declaring he was about to make a comment about who had more money than God and Angelina combined, which Zach quickly learned not to debate because Chris only made the claim more often afterward.
“Only I call him that!” Zoe protested, folding herself with feline grace at the far end of the table. “Come on, boys!” She called for their attention, dragging the others away from their random pursuits.
Chris dealt first, fielding complaints that this wasn’t a team game, mostly because Karl and Simon knew Zach didn’t stand a chance on his own. They weren’t on a winning streak, but it was close. Everyone knew a Chris-Zach tag team could take them all out in anything from verbal sparring matches to fucking dominoes. Zach refused to acknowledge the moaning each time he and Chris would pretend to be discussing strategy when they had a pair of threes at best.
They took a break for pizza, positions largely unchanged except Chris and Zach moved to the sofa. Chris was heavy against his side and Zach reveled in the feeling, going so far as to tug at Chris’ shirt when his fidgeting moved him too far away.
This garnered attention, but everyone kept that to themselves. Until Chris finished beer number “No one counts after Junior year, Anton!” and shifted until his head was on Zach’s thigh, arm draped over his lap like it belonged there. John snickered as he dealt, called the hand, and positively cackled when Zach lifted the cards. Anton and John shared a conspiratorial huddle; Karl broke them up by saying something too low for Zach to understand but it didn’t sound reproachful.
“Your boyfriend’s asleep,” Anton finally announced, bouncing much the way Chris had when the idea of poker was presented.
Flipping him off, Zach tried not to smile when he looked down. They hadn’t crossed that line, not yet. Maybe they never would, but Zach made a silent resolve that night. If he won a hand all on his own (by bluffing), he was going to make side attempts to escalate the relationship. The first hand was useless, but Zach persisted.
He had, by some bizarre twist of fate, gone on to win twice before Chris woke up.
######
“You can’t just force me out.” Zach intentionally made his expression fierce, at least he hoped it was. His voice was a little too loud for the kitchen and Chris had neighbors to worry about.
Zach didn’t care. He was toeing the line between offended and outraged. If Chris really thought he could get away with this, that Zach was going to let him sabotage not only himself, but them, he had another thing coming. This had been a hurdle, a betrayal Zach wasn’t sure he’d ever fully reconcile himself to, but fighting against Chris was like battling an undercurrent.
Authors had tried to describe it countless times and Zach had never grasped it, but Chris was a force. Things automatically gravitated toward him. He was an enigma, for all his claims to the contrary. He intrigued people because he appeared open but there was clearly more there. When another piece of the mystery clicked into place, like finding a puzzle piece a week after you realized it was missing from the bigger picture, it was impossible to turn away.
Those were the qualities which pulled Zach in and held him like a vice. Those were the things that made Chris, along with the imperfections that Zach had long ago agreed to accept.
“You cheated on me. You aren’t entirely emotionally stable,” Zach started. There was pain in Chris’ eyes again but Zach knew he wanted this, needed something other than unguarded compassion. Hell, Zach needed the release just as much. “You complain too much. You lose everything you touch. You’ve broken half my wine glasses.”
“Only two. You had eight,” Chris had the audacity to glare.
Zach talked over him. “You’ve surpassed simply moody ages ago. You chew with your mouth open. You bite everything from pen caps to your fingernails. The caffeine addiction may actually be clinically diagnosable. You get distracted by shiny objects. I hate your music. Your taste in movies leaves something to be desired. You never clean.”
“I cleaned!” He broke through the rant. Zach looked at him, suppressing a grin when he caught the glint in Chris’ eyes.
Then he scanned the immediate area. “I’ll be damned. This is unprecedented. Momentous. What was the catalyst?”
Chris licked his lips. “Nervous habit.”
Actually grinning this time, Zach left his chair to invade Chris’ personal space. When he saw Chris sigh, eyes only slightly dulled by a hangover but otherwise shining, Zach pressed his hands to the back of Chris’ chair.
“But you still do this…thing.” Zach pressed closer, noses nearly touching. On some level, Zach wanted to hold on to his anger, punish Chris a while longer. Now, though, he understood, somewhat. That’s what Chris expected. Whatever relationships Chris had in the past had left an impression and Zach had to factor that in. It’s not as though he didn’t have his own self-preservation techniques, even if he didn’t usually aim them at Chris.
“What thing?” Chris asked, leaning forward until his lips brushed Zach’s along with his breath.
“You’re…I can’t describe it.”
“Words escape you? We need to document this immediately.”
Everything became a blur of movement. Zach threaded a hand in Chris’ hair, pulling their mouths roughly together with all the force of a branding iron. Which was probably the entire point. Chris gripped the collar of Zach’s shirt, pulling him closer, his mouth falling open enough under the onslaught for Zach to lick at his lips, slide his tongue against Chris’. Chris reciprocated in kind, tangling their tongues until they separated enough for him to nibble Zach’s lower lip, sucking it between his own.
As suddenly as it started, Zach shifted away, both whining quietly. He leaned their heads together, catching his breath, stretching the silence.
Chris broke it first. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“I know.”
“I really never meant…it wasn’t about you.”
Zach laughed because this was straight out of a bad romantic comedy. “I know. I still don’t exactly understand why you don’t just tell me things, dammit.”
Wincing, Chris tried to lean back but Zach tightened his hold and followed. “In my defense, I tried. You didn’t listen.” Chris could have found a dozen more appropriate phrasings, but semantics weren’t exactly where his mind was. He could only process how his hands clutched Zach’s shirt, the way Zach leaned over him at a surely uncomfortable angle.
“You tell things by halves. Subtlety isn’t your forte.”
Nodding, Chris let his eyes fall shut. His chest wasn’t so constricted and his mind felt clear, save the dull ache reminding him how incredibly, unbelievably idiotic he’d been. But Zach was giving him a chance, one he didn’t deserve, one he’d fought to lose. Maybe this time was going to be different.
He brushed his lips against Zach’s, sliding his arms around the other man’s waist. “I love you."
"I know." Zach only fell back on what was apparently his newest catch phrase to hide the way his chest simultaneously expanded and shattered. But he did know, had always known. Chris was neurotic but he loved deeply. It didn't negate what he'd done, not by any means, but it forced Zach to acknowledge the honesty in the pain filled, blue eyes.
"I’m going to make this up to you." Chris was whispering now, pleading in his way.
Zach sighed, already knowing he’d let him, but not willing to admit he was so easy whenever Chris got involved. “You have to work for it. Going to be more difficult than you think.”
“I’ll risk it.”
-fin-
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End Note:
Inspirational Music nonsense:
-"Blur" ~Britney Spears
-"Life on the Moon" ~David Cook
-"Scare Me" ~Kenny Chesney *(This played a BIG part)
-"Be Still" ~Kelly Clarkson
-“Mayfield” ~Augustana
-"Gravity" ~Sara Bareilles
-"Soldier's Poem" ~Muse
-"Beautiful Disaster" ~Kelly Clarkson (the live, SLOW version)
-"All the Same" ~Sick Puppies
-"(Another Song) All Over Again" ~Justin Timberlake
So! I was going to try to give you all some really hot make up sex. It just didn’t flow into it, though; plus, this got longer than I anticipated and I chose the cliché ending instead. I’m about to be without internet for an indeterminate amount of time, which I may use to write that into a “missing scene” or short companion fic.
Hope y’all enjoyed it. Feedback is love!
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