FIC: Leave It On Display For You Tonight
Title: Leave It On Display For You Tonight
Author: badfalcon and bellasianna
Categories: Steve Carlson/Christian Kane, Angst, AU, Fantasy, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Thanks to: You, for reading. Bellasianna as ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Disclaimer: Steve Carlson & Christian Kane are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: Christian is a mutant. He’s just never been able to tell Steve... and Steve is about to stumble on the secret.
Christian stumbled into the lounge, tiredness lining his face. He swore as he walked into the edge of the table but then his eyes lit up at the sight of the sun-kissed window seat. He dropped his bags to the floor and pulled off his shirt, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a contented smile as he stretched his arms above his head, popping his spine.
He kicked his shoes off and sank down onto the window seat with a sigh, eyes sliding closed as he curled up in the sunlight; legs tucked beneath him, head pillowed on his arms, purr rumbling in his chest, tail alternating between wrapped around him and hanging off the seat, twitching as he fell asleep.
*****
“Should have known I’d find you asleep on that damn window seat,” Steve chuckled fondly a few hours later. His bags joined Christian’s on the floor, his guitar case placed gently on the table before he moved over to the window, crouching down next to Christian. He brushed his lips over Christian’s forehead in a soft kiss, smiling when Christian snuffled, muttered Steve’s name and then made a ‘mrow’ sounding noise in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Brushing Christian’s hair from his forehead, Steve cupped his face in his hands, thumb gently caressing his cheek as he leaned over to kiss him on the lips.
Stirring, Christian returned the kiss, smiling against Steve’s lips even as his tongue flickered out against them. He sighed as his eyes fluttered open to meet Steve’s. “Steve?” His voice was rough with sleep but Steve could hear the smile in it all the same.
“Hey,” Steve kissed him again and ran his fingers through Christian’s hair.
Christian all but purred at the touch. He uncurled and stretched out along the length of the window seat, his lips curving up in a languid smile. His eyes slit closed again and he arched into Steve’s hand. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked softly, tongue lapping at the inside of Steve’s wrist. “Thought you were in Vegas, recording?”
“I was,” Steve agreed. “But I knew you were home this weekend, so I…” He trailed off, forehead creasing into a frown. He glanced down to see what was tickling his side and his eyes widening. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Wetting his tongue with his lips, he tried again; a whisper of Christian’s name escaping him.
“Steve?”
Steve just shook his head and glanced down again; Christian following his gaze to where his tail was curling against Steve’s hip.
Christian’s breath caught in his chest, a look of panic spreading on his face. “Oh… I… Fuck… Steve… Fuck!” Panic coursed through him and, despite his grogginess, his automatic defence mechanism kicked in and Christian sprang from the window seat and past Steve to land nimbly on all fours, before rising to his feet and running through the house. He paused long enough to open the backdoor, purposefully ignoring Steve shouting after him as he ran into the garden.
“What the fuck?” Steve fell on his ass as Christian leapt passed him. He shook his head and pinched himself before pushing himself to his feet. He called after Christian but his only answer was the slamming of the back door. “The fuck is goin’ on?” He made his way through the house to the garden, frowning again when he saw no sign of Christian. “Chris?”
“Get the fuck away from me!” came the hissed response from above Steve’s head.
Steve blinked rapidly before looking up, doing a double take at the sight of Christian clinging to one of the branches of a tree. “Chris? The fuck are you…”
“I said ‘get the fuck away from me!’” Christian insisted; his voice less hissed this time. Instead, to Steve, he sounded more scared, more panicking and almost on the edge of tears. “Please,” his voice cracked. “Please Steve, just…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Please…”
“Okay,” Steve agreed, stepping backwards but not taking his eyes off Christian; stomach clenching at the fear apparent both in Christian’s voice and in his face. “Okay.” He stepped back further, raising his hands in what he prayed was a non-threatening, calming manner. “Talk to me, Chris?” He asked.
Christian eyed Steve warily then shook his head and scrambled further up the tree, almost hidden by the leaves. His tail curled around the branch, his ears laying flat against his head, yowling softly as Steve continued trying to placate him. “Go away,” he whispered again, too soft for Steve to hear him.
“Christian, please…” Steve all but begged. “Come down. Or at least talk to me, please?” He took a step forward again. “You’re freaking me out here, Chris. Ok, you’re scared, I get it but I’m worried and I need you to come down and talk to me. I know you want me to go away, but I can’t do that to you, Chris.” He ran a hand through his hair, meeting Christian’s panicked gaze. “I can’t leave you when you’re…”
Christian shook his head but didn’t break eye contact; staring straight back at Steve before looking away, shame spiking through him. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” Steve sighed when Christian didn’t reply, didn’t look at him. “Fine…” He shook his head and turned his back on Christian, walking back towards the house, face falling at the mournful howl that followed him back into the kitchen, barely resisting the urge to turn straight back around and go back to the garden. Instead, he went back into the lounge and grabbed a packet of cigarettes, his guitar and, as he passed back through the kitchen, two beers from the fridge before re-entering the garden and settling down with his back against the trunk. “You’re not the only stubborn bastard around here,” he informed Christian, settling himself down to wait for Christian to either come down from the tree or talk to him.
Lighting a cigarette, Steve opened his beer and took a swig before leaning his head back against the trunk, eyes closed. Another puff on his cigarette and he exhaled heavily. “Your beer’s gettin’ warm,” he told Christian, tone normal, conversational as he smoked and drank, the sun warm on his face. He pulled a hand through his hair, brushed it away from his face and tied it up messily, flicking ash to the ground then tossing the butt to the grass, grinding it out with his heel. He picked his guitar up, tuning it automatically for something to do with his hands, projecting an image of calm for Christian while his mind raced, trying to figure out exactly what was going on; he was worried and scared - Christian had never run away from him before, not like this, and he had no idea what was going on or what to do to fix it. So he chose to do what he did know - play his guitar, singing softly to himself half under his breath; eyes closed, body relaxed as he waited.
The touch of normality started to relax Christian as well, easing the sharp tang of fear spiking through him. He exhaled softly, his claws loosening their grip on the branch, Steve’s music and calm washing over him. He stretched out, tail twitching as he nimbly leapt down a couple of branches, closer to Steve, feeling less nervous and starting to think that maybe, just maybe Steve wasn’t going to kill him. There was no outward reaction from Steve who just kept on playing, pausing long enough only take another swig of beer. Biting his lower lip and trembling lightly, his heart pounding in his chest, he leapt down. He pulled his tail and ears in and retracted his claws so he was in human form the second his feet hit the ground. He sat quietly next to Steve, his eyes closed as he listened to him play. Pulling his knees to his chest, he lit a cigarette and turned his head to the side to look at Steve.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” Steve replied, his own heart racing even as he continued to play, doing his best to keep up his calm façade.
“You…” Christian swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping to the ground. “You don’t hate me?” he asked hesitantly.
Steve stopped playing and placed his guitar down, turning to face Christian. He tipped Christian’s chin up with his fingers. He brushed his lips over Christian’s in a chaste kiss. “No, Chris. I don’t hate you.”
Christian flinched away from the gentle touch, pulling away from Steve and curling further into himself. An awkward silence fell between them, Steve shifting uncomfortably against the tree, saying nothing just looking at Christian, willing him to return the gaze.
After a few minutes, Christian looked back up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Even though I’m a freak?”
“You’re not a freak.”
Christian snorted and shook his head. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “No? Then what am I?”
Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again with a frown. “I… You…” He ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes running over Christian. “You’re… You're just Christian.” He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I... was kinda hoping you were gonna tell me.”
Christian nodded and stretched his legs out but made no move to reply; seemingly content to sit there looking at Steve, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers.
“Christian?” Steve prompted.
“Felidae,” he blurted out. “I’m… um… I’m a cat,” he continued at Steve’s confused look, stuttering as he tensed up again. “Or, if you want to get technical: Felis Catus Mutantae.”
“You’re a cat,” Steve echoed. “You… You’re a fucking cat.”
“Yeah,” Christian drawled, stringing the word out like he was afraid to say it. He eyed Steve warily, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read Steve’s reaction. “I’m a cat,” he repeated
"You're a cat," A note of hysterical laughter bubbled past Steve's lips, his shock clear on his face and in the widening of his eyes. "A fucking cat. Wait... mutantae... fuck... you're one of them?"
"The word you're looking for is ‘mutant’,” Christian hissed, narrowing his eyes at Steve. He tensed, ready to spring back to his place of relative safety, high in the tree. He had one leg bent, braced, palms flat on the ground beside him, tail lengthened and bristling, shoulders clenched, poised to run. "I can't believe you of all people would be anti-mutant," he spat, hurt clear in his voice. "You're the most liberal person I know!"
“No!” Steve shook his head. He rose to his feet and paced back and forth, tangling his hands in his hair. “I’m not… I… Fuck, Chris… No.” He stopped, bent down and picked up his discarded beer bottle, emptying it one go. He flushed guiltily at the look of panic and fear on Christian’s face, in his eyes. “I’m not anti-mutant,” he promised. “I just... I never... I didn't know you were...” He trailed off, gesturing wordlessly between them. “I've never met one… never met a mutant before… or… umm I don’t think I’ve met a mutant before… and...” He stopped pacing and turned to look at Christian. “Chris... I don't know how the fuck to react here...” He took a closer look at the pure dread on Christian’s face and swore, taking a step closer to him. He started to reach out to Christian who yelped and sprang to his feet, knocking Steve over as he raced back up the tree.
Steve struggled to his feet, grasping after Christian but was too slow to catch him, only able to watch as he bolted back up the tree. “For fucks sake, Kane!” he yelled. “How the fuck are we supposed to talk about this if you're just gonna hide up in that fucking tree?"
But Christian only climbed higher, visibly trembling as he scaled from branch to branch, resolutely ignoring Steve.
“Christian! Chris! Get your ass down here, Kane!” Steve circled the tree, shielding his eyes as he stared up, calling Christian’s name before shaking his head. “Fine! Fucking stay up there then!” He stormed back towards the house, slamming the back door behind him.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped Christian, his death grip on the tree relaxing as the garden fell quiet despite the lingering tension in the air. He retracted his claws and lay down on the branch, trying desperately to calm himself down, tail still twitching apprehensively, adrenalin racing through him.
A few minutes later, Steve emerged from the front of the house, bulging overnight bag in his hand. Christian’s heart sank and he howled mournfully and shook his head blinking back tears as he watched Steve throw the bag into the car. Leaping from the tree, Christian raced through the house, yelling after Steve. He flung the front door open in time to see Steve speeding out of the driveway. "Fuck!" Christian turned and punched the doorframe before stepping back in the house and slamming the door. "Fuck," he repeated, his head falling back against the wall. He didn't bother fighting the tears as they fell and he slid to the floor.
How long he sat there, he didn't know - but his ass was numb and he was trembling when he moved, grabbing his t-shirt from the chair and pulling over his head on his way to the kitchen. Swearing at himself partially under his breath, he flung the fridge door open and grabbed a beer bottle. He quickly removed the cap and took a drink, then growled and threw the bottle across the room; the glass smashing against the wall, beer dripping down to puddle on the floor. He exhaled heavily, his hand curling into a fist on the counter. His eyes fell on Steve's food processor and he glared at it, lip curling up in a, scowl, before he picking it up. He grunted as he slid it across the counter and into his arms, then threw it. Tears tracked down his face as it smashed against the far wall; parts breaking off, parts of the motor springing out, ruined - the same way their relationship was. Steve, just like everyone else, had left him because he was a fucking freak! His stomach cramped at the thought and he picked a plate up and threw it across the room to shatter against the wall; destroyed, just like everything else. A shudder ran through him at the smash and he picked up another plate to throw across the room, then another, and another…
*****
"Chris?" Steve closed the front door behind him, kicking his gym bag under the table. "You home, Chris?" There was no reply, so Steve looked out of the window to see if Christian was still outside, still up the tree. But he wasn't.
"Christian?" Steve called out again, stumbling to a stop in shock as he stepped into the kitchen. "What the fuck?" he muttered, eyes narrowing, his heart pounding as he took in the destruction in front of him; shattered crockery littering the tiles, drawers emptied and dumped on the floor. "What the fuck?" He repeated, hands balling into fists at his sides. "Kane!" He growled, turning and taking the stairs two at a time, flinging open the bedroom door. "What the fuck have you done to my kitchen?" he demanded. "Don't fucking ign…" he trailed off, eyes widening as he stepped further into the room, taking in the figure curled up in the centre of their bed.
A decidedly furry figure, tail wrapped around him, shoulders shaking with the force of soft sniffles and sobs.
Steve swallowed heavily, his anger fading almost instantly. "Chris?" He called again, gentler, taking another step forward and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Christian?" He reached out one hand, brushing the edges of Christian's fur, then jerking back again when Christian hissed and spat, flinching away from the touch; his tail and fur disappearing almost instantly, leaving a pale and naked Christian curled up on the bed.
He pulled away, backing away from Steve, eyeing him warily. “Give me a second to pull some clothes on and I’ll get out your way while you get your stuff together, ok?” His voice was tired, resigned and rough from tears. He scrubbed a hand over his face and started to slide off the bed.
“Huh?” Steve shot a hand out, grabbing Christian’s arm, stopping him from pulling away. “What are you talking about ‘get my stuff’?
Christian shrugged. “You’re leaving so you’ll need it, I guess.”
“What?” Steve shot back, incredulous. “Leaving?… Chris, no. No. What? No.” He shifted on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, one leg tucked under him. He tugged Christian against him. “I’m not leaving, Christian,” he promised
Christian shook his head. “I saw you,” he insisted. “You grabbed a bag and got in your car.”
“And I drove to the gym, went for a run.” Steve sighed and frowned, one hand running down Christian’s arm; Christian tensed next to him, muscles trembling under his touch. “Why would you think I was leaving?”
“Everybody leaves,” Christian replied, his voice breaking. “When they find out I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak, Christian. No, you’re not,” he repeated when Christian snorted in disbelief. “You’re a mutant.”
“Same thing,” Christian sighed, shrugging one shoulder even as he relaxed against Steve, leaning against him. “You’re… you’re not leaving?” he asked tentatively.
“I’m not leaving,” Steve promised, turning and pressing a kiss to Christian’s temple. “Unless you want me to,” he offered, his voice thick.
“No!” Christian exclaimed, squirming onto Steve’s lap, straddling him, cupping his face and kissing him. “Fuck, no! Steve, I… I’m not gonna lie and say I’m sorry for not telling you cos I’m not - I didn’t want you to know, don’t want anyone to know but you do now and you seem ok with it, with me and…” He trailed off, worrying his lower lip then smiling against Steve’s lips when Steve kissed him again.
“I know,” Steve nodded, his hands trailing up to caress the back of Christian’s neck, idly playing with his hair. “And I am. Mostly. I hate that you lied to me and I gotta get my head around the fact you’re a cat but I don’t think you’re freak, I’m not leaving and I love you, ok?”
“OK,” Christian replied quietly, his grip on Steve’s shoulder easing. He exhaled heavily, starting to relax, his forehead resting against Steve; Steve’s breath warm on his cheek. “OK, he repeated,” his eyes sliding closed at Steve continued playing with his hair. His lips curved up in a content smile and he started to purr.
They sat like that, quietly, holding each other; Christian slowly relaxing against Steve.
“Are you… Chris, are you purring?”
Christian tensed back up again, his purring stopping instantly. “Shit,” he ran a hand through his hair and started pulling away from Steve. “I didn’t… I didn’t think, I didn’t mean to, it just… I can’t… I’m sorry,” he muttered, cheeks flushing red.
“Hey, hey… Chris, no… don’t apologise…” Steve tugged Christian in for a kiss. “It wasn’t a criticism or an attack; just an observation. I always did say you sounded like you were purring when I played with your hair.”
“I always was,” Christian agreed. “It’s a... a cat thing,” he shrugged. “Don’t even realise I’m doing it. I’m sorry - I’m not used to people knowing and… you don’t have to… you could… um… I mean, I…”
Steve laughed and ran his hands up into Christian’s hair, kissing him. “As if you weren’t tactile enough as it was,” he teased, tugging playfully on his hair before running his hands through it, scratching fingertips over his scalp.
"That's a cat thing and a Chris thing," Christian agreed, body vibrating with the force of his purrs. He slumped down against Steve, head resting on his shoulder, nuzzling his throat. "And that's really nice," he continued, his eyes slitting closed as Steve continued to pet him. He slid his arms around Steve's waist, curling against him; Steve's arms tightening around him.
Steve sighed and shifted slightly on the bed, pressing a kiss to the side of Christian's head.
Christian lifted his head, nuzzling his way along Steve's cheek to lap at his lips, licking until they parted and he could kiss Steve. "Whatever it is, just ask," he offered. "I know you probably got this whole list of things you wanna ask me and if we do the whole talking thing now, then we don't gotta do it later."
"I…" Steve trailed off, his hand moving to cup Christian's cheek as he kissed him. "Are you sure?"
A dry laugh bubbled up from Christian's throat and he shook his head. "No," he admitted. "Not at all." His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "But, you… and getting it out of the way is always a good thing."
Steve nodded. "This afternoon, when you were asleep on the window seat. And then again when I came back from the gym… you… you had a tail."
Christian smirked, his tail flicking up to tickle Steve. "This tail?" he asked, stroking it with his hand. "Yeah… That's a cat thing," he snorted, watching as Steve trailed a tentative finger down his tail. He bit back the purr he could feel in his chest as the touch became bolder. "I hit puberty. Balls dropped, all the usual shit. But then I grew a tail and fur."
"Fur," Steve echoed. "Yeah I thought I saw…" he trailed off, his eyes widening as Christian's skin appeared to shimmer before a faint covering of brown fur, the same shade as his hair appeared all over Christian. "Can I…"
"Touch?" Christian asked. "Yeah, you can." He swallowed heavily as Steve reached out, fingers brushing the tips of his of his fur. "It's ok," he reassured Steve, even as his voice shook.
"Who're you trying to convince?" Steve laughed nervously, Christian chuckling with him. "You have fur and a tail. But… not all the time?"
"You ever seen fur and a tail before?" Christian countered, kissing Steve when he blushed and shook his head. "I learned to hide them. Don't like people seein' them. They tend to freak out. They leave."
"I'm not gonna leave," Steve promised, his hand cupping Christian's cheek, kissing him gently. "Chris I…" He sighed, his hand running into Christian's hair, stroking the back of his neck. "Your parents… they… they didn't throw you out because you were gay, did they?"
Christian tensed against him with a pained cry. He buried his face in Steve's neck; Steve tightening his arms around him at the feel of tears splashing against his skin. "They were anti-mutant," he replied falteringly. "I hid it from them. I never told them. But… when I'm asleep, I can't… I don't… and the tail… and the fur… and they saw and… " he trailed off, pressing his lips together.
"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, his hand rubbing Christian's back soothingly. "I'm so fucking sorry, Chris." He ran his hand through Christian's fur, petting him, holding him tightly; Christian quietening in his arms. He cupped Christian's face in his hand, brushing his tears with his thumbs and kissing him. "I'm sorry, but I had to ask. I'm sorry."
Christian exhaled shakily, his fur bristling. "I know." He nodded and met Steve's eyes, returning the kiss. "I know."
"I'm not gonna leave you, Christian." Steve promised again. "I'm not anti-mutant. I don't think you're a freak. Ok?" There was a glimmer of hope in Christian's eyes, his grip on Steve's shoulders loosening fractionally, a faint nod. "I love you," Steve murmured.
Another tremor wracked Christian and he kissed Steve again. "I love you too," he replied. "Steve, I…"
Steve placed a finger over Christian's lips. "You don't really have insomnia, do you?" Christian shook his head. "You… you don't sleep when I'm here because you don't… didn't want me to see you."
"Didn't want you seeing a cat. Can't control it when I'm asleep."
"I need you to promise me something," Steve asked quietly, his hand still stroking through Christian's fur. He paused, waited for Christian to nod. "Please don't ever be afraid to be you. And if it means I wake up next to a cat, then I can learn to get used to that. Because I love you. Fur and tail and claws, too. Don't ever hide yourself from me, Chris."
"I can’t…" Christian trailed off. "I promise to try."
"That's all I ask," Steve nodded; smiling as Christian arched his back into the touch, breath warm against his neck. He continued to pet Chris, fingers running through his fur until Christian was completely relaxed against him, purring softly, tail brushing against his leg. "It explain a lot," Steve mused, half to himself.
"It does?" Christian lifted his head, scowling. "Don't mean you gotta stop the stroking," he protested.
Steve laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of Christian's head. He moved his hand back, stroking down Christian's back and sides; Christian purring and twining around him. "That damn window seat. You always, always… any patch of sun and you curl up and nap… never mattered where you were - backstage, a break on set, in a hotel room, on a train, in a car… fucking catnaps!"
Christian wrinkled his nose, a self-deprecating laugh bubbling past his lips. "Some feline instincts are stronger than others," he admitted. "I like being warm," he grumbled defensively, only making Steve laugh harder.
"And I like hearing you purr. But if you think I'm serving Whiskas next time my parents come round for dinner…"
~ El Fin~
Author: badfalcon and bellasianna
Categories: Steve Carlson/Christian Kane, Angst, AU, Fantasy, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Thanks to: You, for reading. Bellasianna as ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Disclaimer: Steve Carlson & Christian Kane are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: Christian is a mutant. He’s just never been able to tell Steve... and Steve is about to stumble on the secret.
Christian stumbled into the lounge, tiredness lining his face. He swore as he walked into the edge of the table but then his eyes lit up at the sight of the sun-kissed window seat. He dropped his bags to the floor and pulled off his shirt, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a contented smile as he stretched his arms above his head, popping his spine.
He kicked his shoes off and sank down onto the window seat with a sigh, eyes sliding closed as he curled up in the sunlight; legs tucked beneath him, head pillowed on his arms, purr rumbling in his chest, tail alternating between wrapped around him and hanging off the seat, twitching as he fell asleep.
*****
“Should have known I’d find you asleep on that damn window seat,” Steve chuckled fondly a few hours later. His bags joined Christian’s on the floor, his guitar case placed gently on the table before he moved over to the window, crouching down next to Christian. He brushed his lips over Christian’s forehead in a soft kiss, smiling when Christian snuffled, muttered Steve’s name and then made a ‘mrow’ sounding noise in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Brushing Christian’s hair from his forehead, Steve cupped his face in his hands, thumb gently caressing his cheek as he leaned over to kiss him on the lips.
Stirring, Christian returned the kiss, smiling against Steve’s lips even as his tongue flickered out against them. He sighed as his eyes fluttered open to meet Steve’s. “Steve?” His voice was rough with sleep but Steve could hear the smile in it all the same.
“Hey,” Steve kissed him again and ran his fingers through Christian’s hair.
Christian all but purred at the touch. He uncurled and stretched out along the length of the window seat, his lips curving up in a languid smile. His eyes slit closed again and he arched into Steve’s hand. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked softly, tongue lapping at the inside of Steve’s wrist. “Thought you were in Vegas, recording?”
“I was,” Steve agreed. “But I knew you were home this weekend, so I…” He trailed off, forehead creasing into a frown. He glanced down to see what was tickling his side and his eyes widening. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Wetting his tongue with his lips, he tried again; a whisper of Christian’s name escaping him.
“Steve?”
Steve just shook his head and glanced down again; Christian following his gaze to where his tail was curling against Steve’s hip.
Christian’s breath caught in his chest, a look of panic spreading on his face. “Oh… I… Fuck… Steve… Fuck!” Panic coursed through him and, despite his grogginess, his automatic defence mechanism kicked in and Christian sprang from the window seat and past Steve to land nimbly on all fours, before rising to his feet and running through the house. He paused long enough to open the backdoor, purposefully ignoring Steve shouting after him as he ran into the garden.
“What the fuck?” Steve fell on his ass as Christian leapt passed him. He shook his head and pinched himself before pushing himself to his feet. He called after Christian but his only answer was the slamming of the back door. “The fuck is goin’ on?” He made his way through the house to the garden, frowning again when he saw no sign of Christian. “Chris?”
“Get the fuck away from me!” came the hissed response from above Steve’s head.
Steve blinked rapidly before looking up, doing a double take at the sight of Christian clinging to one of the branches of a tree. “Chris? The fuck are you…”
“I said ‘get the fuck away from me!’” Christian insisted; his voice less hissed this time. Instead, to Steve, he sounded more scared, more panicking and almost on the edge of tears. “Please,” his voice cracked. “Please Steve, just…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Please…”
“Okay,” Steve agreed, stepping backwards but not taking his eyes off Christian; stomach clenching at the fear apparent both in Christian’s voice and in his face. “Okay.” He stepped back further, raising his hands in what he prayed was a non-threatening, calming manner. “Talk to me, Chris?” He asked.
Christian eyed Steve warily then shook his head and scrambled further up the tree, almost hidden by the leaves. His tail curled around the branch, his ears laying flat against his head, yowling softly as Steve continued trying to placate him. “Go away,” he whispered again, too soft for Steve to hear him.
“Christian, please…” Steve all but begged. “Come down. Or at least talk to me, please?” He took a step forward again. “You’re freaking me out here, Chris. Ok, you’re scared, I get it but I’m worried and I need you to come down and talk to me. I know you want me to go away, but I can’t do that to you, Chris.” He ran a hand through his hair, meeting Christian’s panicked gaze. “I can’t leave you when you’re…”
Christian shook his head but didn’t break eye contact; staring straight back at Steve before looking away, shame spiking through him. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” Steve sighed when Christian didn’t reply, didn’t look at him. “Fine…” He shook his head and turned his back on Christian, walking back towards the house, face falling at the mournful howl that followed him back into the kitchen, barely resisting the urge to turn straight back around and go back to the garden. Instead, he went back into the lounge and grabbed a packet of cigarettes, his guitar and, as he passed back through the kitchen, two beers from the fridge before re-entering the garden and settling down with his back against the trunk. “You’re not the only stubborn bastard around here,” he informed Christian, settling himself down to wait for Christian to either come down from the tree or talk to him.
Lighting a cigarette, Steve opened his beer and took a swig before leaning his head back against the trunk, eyes closed. Another puff on his cigarette and he exhaled heavily. “Your beer’s gettin’ warm,” he told Christian, tone normal, conversational as he smoked and drank, the sun warm on his face. He pulled a hand through his hair, brushed it away from his face and tied it up messily, flicking ash to the ground then tossing the butt to the grass, grinding it out with his heel. He picked his guitar up, tuning it automatically for something to do with his hands, projecting an image of calm for Christian while his mind raced, trying to figure out exactly what was going on; he was worried and scared - Christian had never run away from him before, not like this, and he had no idea what was going on or what to do to fix it. So he chose to do what he did know - play his guitar, singing softly to himself half under his breath; eyes closed, body relaxed as he waited.
The touch of normality started to relax Christian as well, easing the sharp tang of fear spiking through him. He exhaled softly, his claws loosening their grip on the branch, Steve’s music and calm washing over him. He stretched out, tail twitching as he nimbly leapt down a couple of branches, closer to Steve, feeling less nervous and starting to think that maybe, just maybe Steve wasn’t going to kill him. There was no outward reaction from Steve who just kept on playing, pausing long enough only take another swig of beer. Biting his lower lip and trembling lightly, his heart pounding in his chest, he leapt down. He pulled his tail and ears in and retracted his claws so he was in human form the second his feet hit the ground. He sat quietly next to Steve, his eyes closed as he listened to him play. Pulling his knees to his chest, he lit a cigarette and turned his head to the side to look at Steve.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” Steve replied, his own heart racing even as he continued to play, doing his best to keep up his calm façade.
“You…” Christian swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping to the ground. “You don’t hate me?” he asked hesitantly.
Steve stopped playing and placed his guitar down, turning to face Christian. He tipped Christian’s chin up with his fingers. He brushed his lips over Christian’s in a chaste kiss. “No, Chris. I don’t hate you.”
Christian flinched away from the gentle touch, pulling away from Steve and curling further into himself. An awkward silence fell between them, Steve shifting uncomfortably against the tree, saying nothing just looking at Christian, willing him to return the gaze.
After a few minutes, Christian looked back up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Even though I’m a freak?”
“You’re not a freak.”
Christian snorted and shook his head. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “No? Then what am I?”
Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again with a frown. “I… You…” He ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes running over Christian. “You’re… You're just Christian.” He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I... was kinda hoping you were gonna tell me.”
Christian nodded and stretched his legs out but made no move to reply; seemingly content to sit there looking at Steve, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers.
“Christian?” Steve prompted.
“Felidae,” he blurted out. “I’m… um… I’m a cat,” he continued at Steve’s confused look, stuttering as he tensed up again. “Or, if you want to get technical: Felis Catus Mutantae.”
“You’re a cat,” Steve echoed. “You… You’re a fucking cat.”
“Yeah,” Christian drawled, stringing the word out like he was afraid to say it. He eyed Steve warily, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read Steve’s reaction. “I’m a cat,” he repeated
"You're a cat," A note of hysterical laughter bubbled past Steve's lips, his shock clear on his face and in the widening of his eyes. "A fucking cat. Wait... mutantae... fuck... you're one of them?"
"The word you're looking for is ‘mutant’,” Christian hissed, narrowing his eyes at Steve. He tensed, ready to spring back to his place of relative safety, high in the tree. He had one leg bent, braced, palms flat on the ground beside him, tail lengthened and bristling, shoulders clenched, poised to run. "I can't believe you of all people would be anti-mutant," he spat, hurt clear in his voice. "You're the most liberal person I know!"
“No!” Steve shook his head. He rose to his feet and paced back and forth, tangling his hands in his hair. “I’m not… I… Fuck, Chris… No.” He stopped, bent down and picked up his discarded beer bottle, emptying it one go. He flushed guiltily at the look of panic and fear on Christian’s face, in his eyes. “I’m not anti-mutant,” he promised. “I just... I never... I didn't know you were...” He trailed off, gesturing wordlessly between them. “I've never met one… never met a mutant before… or… umm I don’t think I’ve met a mutant before… and...” He stopped pacing and turned to look at Christian. “Chris... I don't know how the fuck to react here...” He took a closer look at the pure dread on Christian’s face and swore, taking a step closer to him. He started to reach out to Christian who yelped and sprang to his feet, knocking Steve over as he raced back up the tree.
Steve struggled to his feet, grasping after Christian but was too slow to catch him, only able to watch as he bolted back up the tree. “For fucks sake, Kane!” he yelled. “How the fuck are we supposed to talk about this if you're just gonna hide up in that fucking tree?"
But Christian only climbed higher, visibly trembling as he scaled from branch to branch, resolutely ignoring Steve.
“Christian! Chris! Get your ass down here, Kane!” Steve circled the tree, shielding his eyes as he stared up, calling Christian’s name before shaking his head. “Fine! Fucking stay up there then!” He stormed back towards the house, slamming the back door behind him.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped Christian, his death grip on the tree relaxing as the garden fell quiet despite the lingering tension in the air. He retracted his claws and lay down on the branch, trying desperately to calm himself down, tail still twitching apprehensively, adrenalin racing through him.
A few minutes later, Steve emerged from the front of the house, bulging overnight bag in his hand. Christian’s heart sank and he howled mournfully and shook his head blinking back tears as he watched Steve throw the bag into the car. Leaping from the tree, Christian raced through the house, yelling after Steve. He flung the front door open in time to see Steve speeding out of the driveway. "Fuck!" Christian turned and punched the doorframe before stepping back in the house and slamming the door. "Fuck," he repeated, his head falling back against the wall. He didn't bother fighting the tears as they fell and he slid to the floor.
How long he sat there, he didn't know - but his ass was numb and he was trembling when he moved, grabbing his t-shirt from the chair and pulling over his head on his way to the kitchen. Swearing at himself partially under his breath, he flung the fridge door open and grabbed a beer bottle. He quickly removed the cap and took a drink, then growled and threw the bottle across the room; the glass smashing against the wall, beer dripping down to puddle on the floor. He exhaled heavily, his hand curling into a fist on the counter. His eyes fell on Steve's food processor and he glared at it, lip curling up in a, scowl, before he picking it up. He grunted as he slid it across the counter and into his arms, then threw it. Tears tracked down his face as it smashed against the far wall; parts breaking off, parts of the motor springing out, ruined - the same way their relationship was. Steve, just like everyone else, had left him because he was a fucking freak! His stomach cramped at the thought and he picked a plate up and threw it across the room to shatter against the wall; destroyed, just like everything else. A shudder ran through him at the smash and he picked up another plate to throw across the room, then another, and another…
*****
"Chris?" Steve closed the front door behind him, kicking his gym bag under the table. "You home, Chris?" There was no reply, so Steve looked out of the window to see if Christian was still outside, still up the tree. But he wasn't.
"Christian?" Steve called out again, stumbling to a stop in shock as he stepped into the kitchen. "What the fuck?" he muttered, eyes narrowing, his heart pounding as he took in the destruction in front of him; shattered crockery littering the tiles, drawers emptied and dumped on the floor. "What the fuck?" He repeated, hands balling into fists at his sides. "Kane!" He growled, turning and taking the stairs two at a time, flinging open the bedroom door. "What the fuck have you done to my kitchen?" he demanded. "Don't fucking ign…" he trailed off, eyes widening as he stepped further into the room, taking in the figure curled up in the centre of their bed.
A decidedly furry figure, tail wrapped around him, shoulders shaking with the force of soft sniffles and sobs.
Steve swallowed heavily, his anger fading almost instantly. "Chris?" He called again, gentler, taking another step forward and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Christian?" He reached out one hand, brushing the edges of Christian's fur, then jerking back again when Christian hissed and spat, flinching away from the touch; his tail and fur disappearing almost instantly, leaving a pale and naked Christian curled up on the bed.
He pulled away, backing away from Steve, eyeing him warily. “Give me a second to pull some clothes on and I’ll get out your way while you get your stuff together, ok?” His voice was tired, resigned and rough from tears. He scrubbed a hand over his face and started to slide off the bed.
“Huh?” Steve shot a hand out, grabbing Christian’s arm, stopping him from pulling away. “What are you talking about ‘get my stuff’?
Christian shrugged. “You’re leaving so you’ll need it, I guess.”
“What?” Steve shot back, incredulous. “Leaving?… Chris, no. No. What? No.” He shifted on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, one leg tucked under him. He tugged Christian against him. “I’m not leaving, Christian,” he promised
Christian shook his head. “I saw you,” he insisted. “You grabbed a bag and got in your car.”
“And I drove to the gym, went for a run.” Steve sighed and frowned, one hand running down Christian’s arm; Christian tensed next to him, muscles trembling under his touch. “Why would you think I was leaving?”
“Everybody leaves,” Christian replied, his voice breaking. “When they find out I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak, Christian. No, you’re not,” he repeated when Christian snorted in disbelief. “You’re a mutant.”
“Same thing,” Christian sighed, shrugging one shoulder even as he relaxed against Steve, leaning against him. “You’re… you’re not leaving?” he asked tentatively.
“I’m not leaving,” Steve promised, turning and pressing a kiss to Christian’s temple. “Unless you want me to,” he offered, his voice thick.
“No!” Christian exclaimed, squirming onto Steve’s lap, straddling him, cupping his face and kissing him. “Fuck, no! Steve, I… I’m not gonna lie and say I’m sorry for not telling you cos I’m not - I didn’t want you to know, don’t want anyone to know but you do now and you seem ok with it, with me and…” He trailed off, worrying his lower lip then smiling against Steve’s lips when Steve kissed him again.
“I know,” Steve nodded, his hands trailing up to caress the back of Christian’s neck, idly playing with his hair. “And I am. Mostly. I hate that you lied to me and I gotta get my head around the fact you’re a cat but I don’t think you’re freak, I’m not leaving and I love you, ok?”
“OK,” Christian replied quietly, his grip on Steve’s shoulder easing. He exhaled heavily, starting to relax, his forehead resting against Steve; Steve’s breath warm on his cheek. “OK, he repeated,” his eyes sliding closed at Steve continued playing with his hair. His lips curved up in a content smile and he started to purr.
They sat like that, quietly, holding each other; Christian slowly relaxing against Steve.
“Are you… Chris, are you purring?”
Christian tensed back up again, his purring stopping instantly. “Shit,” he ran a hand through his hair and started pulling away from Steve. “I didn’t… I didn’t think, I didn’t mean to, it just… I can’t… I’m sorry,” he muttered, cheeks flushing red.
“Hey, hey… Chris, no… don’t apologise…” Steve tugged Christian in for a kiss. “It wasn’t a criticism or an attack; just an observation. I always did say you sounded like you were purring when I played with your hair.”
“I always was,” Christian agreed. “It’s a... a cat thing,” he shrugged. “Don’t even realise I’m doing it. I’m sorry - I’m not used to people knowing and… you don’t have to… you could… um… I mean, I…”
Steve laughed and ran his hands up into Christian’s hair, kissing him. “As if you weren’t tactile enough as it was,” he teased, tugging playfully on his hair before running his hands through it, scratching fingertips over his scalp.
"That's a cat thing and a Chris thing," Christian agreed, body vibrating with the force of his purrs. He slumped down against Steve, head resting on his shoulder, nuzzling his throat. "And that's really nice," he continued, his eyes slitting closed as Steve continued to pet him. He slid his arms around Steve's waist, curling against him; Steve's arms tightening around him.
Steve sighed and shifted slightly on the bed, pressing a kiss to the side of Christian's head.
Christian lifted his head, nuzzling his way along Steve's cheek to lap at his lips, licking until they parted and he could kiss Steve. "Whatever it is, just ask," he offered. "I know you probably got this whole list of things you wanna ask me and if we do the whole talking thing now, then we don't gotta do it later."
"I…" Steve trailed off, his hand moving to cup Christian's cheek as he kissed him. "Are you sure?"
A dry laugh bubbled up from Christian's throat and he shook his head. "No," he admitted. "Not at all." His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "But, you… and getting it out of the way is always a good thing."
Steve nodded. "This afternoon, when you were asleep on the window seat. And then again when I came back from the gym… you… you had a tail."
Christian smirked, his tail flicking up to tickle Steve. "This tail?" he asked, stroking it with his hand. "Yeah… That's a cat thing," he snorted, watching as Steve trailed a tentative finger down his tail. He bit back the purr he could feel in his chest as the touch became bolder. "I hit puberty. Balls dropped, all the usual shit. But then I grew a tail and fur."
"Fur," Steve echoed. "Yeah I thought I saw…" he trailed off, his eyes widening as Christian's skin appeared to shimmer before a faint covering of brown fur, the same shade as his hair appeared all over Christian. "Can I…"
"Touch?" Christian asked. "Yeah, you can." He swallowed heavily as Steve reached out, fingers brushing the tips of his of his fur. "It's ok," he reassured Steve, even as his voice shook.
"Who're you trying to convince?" Steve laughed nervously, Christian chuckling with him. "You have fur and a tail. But… not all the time?"
"You ever seen fur and a tail before?" Christian countered, kissing Steve when he blushed and shook his head. "I learned to hide them. Don't like people seein' them. They tend to freak out. They leave."
"I'm not gonna leave," Steve promised, his hand cupping Christian's cheek, kissing him gently. "Chris I…" He sighed, his hand running into Christian's hair, stroking the back of his neck. "Your parents… they… they didn't throw you out because you were gay, did they?"
Christian tensed against him with a pained cry. He buried his face in Steve's neck; Steve tightening his arms around him at the feel of tears splashing against his skin. "They were anti-mutant," he replied falteringly. "I hid it from them. I never told them. But… when I'm asleep, I can't… I don't… and the tail… and the fur… and they saw and… " he trailed off, pressing his lips together.
"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, his hand rubbing Christian's back soothingly. "I'm so fucking sorry, Chris." He ran his hand through Christian's fur, petting him, holding him tightly; Christian quietening in his arms. He cupped Christian's face in his hand, brushing his tears with his thumbs and kissing him. "I'm sorry, but I had to ask. I'm sorry."
Christian exhaled shakily, his fur bristling. "I know." He nodded and met Steve's eyes, returning the kiss. "I know."
"I'm not gonna leave you, Christian." Steve promised again. "I'm not anti-mutant. I don't think you're a freak. Ok?" There was a glimmer of hope in Christian's eyes, his grip on Steve's shoulders loosening fractionally, a faint nod. "I love you," Steve murmured.
Another tremor wracked Christian and he kissed Steve again. "I love you too," he replied. "Steve, I…"
Steve placed a finger over Christian's lips. "You don't really have insomnia, do you?" Christian shook his head. "You… you don't sleep when I'm here because you don't… didn't want me to see you."
"Didn't want you seeing a cat. Can't control it when I'm asleep."
"I need you to promise me something," Steve asked quietly, his hand still stroking through Christian's fur. He paused, waited for Christian to nod. "Please don't ever be afraid to be you. And if it means I wake up next to a cat, then I can learn to get used to that. Because I love you. Fur and tail and claws, too. Don't ever hide yourself from me, Chris."
"I can’t…" Christian trailed off. "I promise to try."
"That's all I ask," Steve nodded; smiling as Christian arched his back into the touch, breath warm against his neck. He continued to pet Chris, fingers running through his fur until Christian was completely relaxed against him, purring softly, tail brushing against his leg. "It explain a lot," Steve mused, half to himself.
"It does?" Christian lifted his head, scowling. "Don't mean you gotta stop the stroking," he protested.
Steve laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of Christian's head. He moved his hand back, stroking down Christian's back and sides; Christian purring and twining around him. "That damn window seat. You always, always… any patch of sun and you curl up and nap… never mattered where you were - backstage, a break on set, in a hotel room, on a train, in a car… fucking catnaps!"
Christian wrinkled his nose, a self-deprecating laugh bubbling past his lips. "Some feline instincts are stronger than others," he admitted. "I like being warm," he grumbled defensively, only making Steve laugh harder.
"And I like hearing you purr. But if you think I'm serving Whiskas next time my parents come round for dinner…"
~ El Fin~