Build A Wall Between Us In Your Bed
Title: Build A Wall Between Us In Your Bed
Rating: R? Barely?
Pairing: Milo Ventimiglia/Zachary Quinto, Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Additional Characters: Joe Quinto, Karl Urban gets a mention
Genre: Angst
Words: ~1599
Summary: It wasn't something that any of them planned, really. Zach and Milo had a thing, and Zach and Chris had a thing. What this thing was, however, was open to interpretation... or a conversation none of them were quite willing to have.
It wasn't something that any of them planned, really. Zach and Milo had a thing, and Zach and Chris had a thing. What this thing was, however, was open to interpretation... or a conversation none of them were quite willing to have.
And so, slowly, Milo and Chris made Zach a timeshare. Not that they would admit to it, because that would be too demeaning to Zach, if any of them ever really thought about it. If Zach noticed what they were doing, he never said anything, just went along with whatever their fucked up menage a trois came up with. And if Chris was getting impatient that Milo always got his way ("after all," Milo said the first time he and Chris met, "I was first"), he didn't show it. At least, he didn't show it around Milo. And, sometimes, if Zach came home from Chris' a little sore and in a little bit of pain and with fading bruises on his wrists and a whispered mantra of "mine, mine, mine" breathed against his skin, he'd think that maybe this whole thing had gone on long enough and he should choose, because it's not fair to Chris or Milo, or himself.
But Zach's selfish, kind of, and he wants both of them, so none of them talk about it and they continue on with the status quo.
--
Milo didn't think anything between Zach and Chris would have lasted this long. He figured it was just some sort of fling, on both their parts, that would only last during the movie filming and hype. Not that he thought the relationship between him and Zach would have lasted this long, though, either.
'Maybe,' Milo thinks, 'I should just stop trying to predict my relationships.'
Because if his predictions always came true, then Zach wouldn't be curled up against him, warm breath gently moving the hair on Milo's arm as he sleeps.
--
"You're leaving rings on the table," Zach says, sitting up to lift Milo's glass and slide a coaster under it.
"It's my table," Milo replies, holding out his arm and motioning for Zach to lean against him again.
"So that makes it okay to be negligent about its care?"
Milo nods, kissing the top of Zach's head. "But thank you for being so concerned about my coffee table."
Zach shifts so that his head is attempting to burrow into Milo's side. "Welcome," Zach mumbles, beginning to doze off in the warmth Milo's body provides.
--
Milo passes Zach off to Chris in the middle of a crowd down a street full of shops, some place that Zach picked out the day before. Milo and Chris don't talk to each other, don't have anything that'll end well to say, but Zach's smiling, eyes hiden beneath his sunglasses, as he says goodbye to Milo and heads over to Chris. Chris, who is halfway through his coffee concoction and won't get the sick feeling out of his stomach until he and Zach are away from Milo, can only return a tight, faked smile. But Zach's still far enough away that he can't quite tell it's not real, and in a few seconds, Chris won't be able to see anyone besides Zach and then, then he'll be able to really smile.
"Hey," Chris says when Zach's standing in front of him.
Zach nods hello in return, and then they're walking away from Milo, and Chris is pretty damn happy about it.
--
"You know what we need..." Chris says, opening up his kitchen cabinets and then shutting them after a quick look inside.
"Sombreros?" Zach asks, eyes scanning the newspaper Chris left on the table.
Chris stops looking through the cabinets to stare at Zach. "I know you have a thing for hats, but I was thinking coffee. Not sombreros. And I think you're off a little, geographically speaking."
"I bet someone in Columbia would wear a sombrero," Zach retorts.
"Besides the point. We're talking coffee. Delicious beans that provide much needed caffeine and joy to hordes of people daily."
"Then go forth from this place and procure thy sacred beans that cause bitter sensations on your taste buds. Or suffer without it until I'm gone. Because there are clearly things your mouth would be better suited for right at this moment."
Chris shakes his head and continues his search through the cabinets.
"Fine then," Zach mutters, returning his attention to the paper, "be a spoilsport."
--
Zach never mentions Milo's name when he tells Chris he'll be gone for a few days. It's always something about filming for Heroes or how Joe's got something planned he thinks, maybe, one day that week but he's not sure which and he'll call Chris, later, when he knows he'll be free. Even though he never says it, though, Chris knows why Zach will be ignoring his calls, knows he's had his week and he'll have to wait another to see Zach in his bed again. And sometimes Chris wishes it didn't have to be that way, that it was just a few days, unless their schedules didn't permit it, instead of it being a week with no contact, no phone calls or anything, because Zach's got this other life, other boyfriend thing entirely. But he knows, most of the time, when he's not so drunk that Karl's listening to half formulated cliches about love and romance on the other end of the phone, that if he ever pushed Zach to make a choice, he'd lose the almost even time distrubtion (and just because it's even, Chris tells himself, sometimes almost tells Zach, doesn't mean it's fair, because Milo... Milo had Zach first and that will always mean just a little bit more than whatever Zach has with Chris).
--
"I'm not Chris," Milo says while he and Zach are laying in bed, postcoital.
Zach's brain starts trying to figure out why, why, why his two worlds seem to be merging right now, starts trying to remember what might have been said or figure out who might have said something and it just doesn't remember, is protesting this sudden need to think. "I know," Zach replies, voice scratchy, throat sore. And he does know, really, unless he's blitzed and his eyes are closed and they're at his place, because that doesn't smell enough like either of them for Zach to remember the difference.
"Apparently you don't." Milo doesn't elaborate, just gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom, leaves Zach to deal with cooling sheets and his half formed thoughts alone.
--
From: Zach
To: Joe
in a quandry
When Joe sees the message, he holds back a sigh, hopes this isn't going to be an "I told you so" conversation and replies, knowing his hope is probably in vain.
From: Joe
To: Zach
lunch. later. my place.
--
"It was unintentional," Zach says, rolling the water bottle along the counter top. "It's never happened before. I don't know why it did."
"What are you going to do about it?" Joe asks, secretly thinking about spiking his own water, because he doesn't really want to be talking about his brother's sex life this sober.
"Apologize? Act like it never happened?" Zach replies, beginning to feel small, worthless and possibly the biggest jerk in the history of jerks because it's not an exboyfriend's name he called out accidentally during sex, it's a current boyfriend he's seeing in addition to the boyfriend whose name he got wrong. And it makes his head hurt when he thinks about it that way.
Joe sighs. "Apologize. And maybe... you should take a break. From both of them. Reacquaint yourself with Noah and Harold. Remember them? Those animals that live in your house? Some people call them pets? Maybe even call up Kristen. Or one of your other friends. If you have any left."
Zach stares at him, glasses sliding down a little, water bottle forgotten in between his hands. "You're sounding a tad supercilious right now."
Joe stares back. "Just go fix it. And stop leaving microscratches on my counter top."
--
Zach can't bring himself to call Milo. He's pulled out his cell phone and almost dialed a few times, but could never get past the second number. It makes him feel spineless and pathetic, because he messed up, probably long before this, and he knows how to fix it, but he can't. Because admitting he made a mistake and apologizing means he has to change his behavior if he really, really means he's sorry, and he doesn't want to do that, doesn't know how to do that, can't choose just one of them.
So now he's sprawled out on his couch, reacquainting himself with what it feels like to scratch behind Noah's ears and have the compact weight of Harold on top of him and pretending his phone doesn't work anymore.
--
Kristen calls. Joe calls. Someone who's probably important calls. Zach doesn't answer, doesn't respond, doesn't listen to his voicemail. There's a knock on the door, a couple of different voices saying they know he's in there and, dammit, why doesn't he just answer?
But Zach doesn't answer, doesn't want to question why he doesn't answer, doesn't want to think about how long he's been hiding out, doesn't want to think about why he's hiding.
When the calls stop and the knocks cease and Zach's running out of food, he calls Milo, calls Chris, tells them to meet him at his place in a few hours, after he goes shopping, because they need to talk, all of them. And Zach thinks that, maybe, he can be a little less selfish but still get to eat his cake.
Rating: R? Barely?
Pairing: Milo Ventimiglia/Zachary Quinto, Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Additional Characters: Joe Quinto, Karl Urban gets a mention
Genre: Angst
Words: ~1599
Summary: It wasn't something that any of them planned, really. Zach and Milo had a thing, and Zach and Chris had a thing. What this thing was, however, was open to interpretation... or a conversation none of them were quite willing to have.
It wasn't something that any of them planned, really. Zach and Milo had a thing, and Zach and Chris had a thing. What this thing was, however, was open to interpretation... or a conversation none of them were quite willing to have.
And so, slowly, Milo and Chris made Zach a timeshare. Not that they would admit to it, because that would be too demeaning to Zach, if any of them ever really thought about it. If Zach noticed what they were doing, he never said anything, just went along with whatever their fucked up menage a trois came up with. And if Chris was getting impatient that Milo always got his way ("after all," Milo said the first time he and Chris met, "I was first"), he didn't show it. At least, he didn't show it around Milo. And, sometimes, if Zach came home from Chris' a little sore and in a little bit of pain and with fading bruises on his wrists and a whispered mantra of "mine, mine, mine" breathed against his skin, he'd think that maybe this whole thing had gone on long enough and he should choose, because it's not fair to Chris or Milo, or himself.
But Zach's selfish, kind of, and he wants both of them, so none of them talk about it and they continue on with the status quo.
--
Milo didn't think anything between Zach and Chris would have lasted this long. He figured it was just some sort of fling, on both their parts, that would only last during the movie filming and hype. Not that he thought the relationship between him and Zach would have lasted this long, though, either.
'Maybe,' Milo thinks, 'I should just stop trying to predict my relationships.'
Because if his predictions always came true, then Zach wouldn't be curled up against him, warm breath gently moving the hair on Milo's arm as he sleeps.
--
"You're leaving rings on the table," Zach says, sitting up to lift Milo's glass and slide a coaster under it.
"It's my table," Milo replies, holding out his arm and motioning for Zach to lean against him again.
"So that makes it okay to be negligent about its care?"
Milo nods, kissing the top of Zach's head. "But thank you for being so concerned about my coffee table."
Zach shifts so that his head is attempting to burrow into Milo's side. "Welcome," Zach mumbles, beginning to doze off in the warmth Milo's body provides.
--
Milo passes Zach off to Chris in the middle of a crowd down a street full of shops, some place that Zach picked out the day before. Milo and Chris don't talk to each other, don't have anything that'll end well to say, but Zach's smiling, eyes hiden beneath his sunglasses, as he says goodbye to Milo and heads over to Chris. Chris, who is halfway through his coffee concoction and won't get the sick feeling out of his stomach until he and Zach are away from Milo, can only return a tight, faked smile. But Zach's still far enough away that he can't quite tell it's not real, and in a few seconds, Chris won't be able to see anyone besides Zach and then, then he'll be able to really smile.
"Hey," Chris says when Zach's standing in front of him.
Zach nods hello in return, and then they're walking away from Milo, and Chris is pretty damn happy about it.
--
"You know what we need..." Chris says, opening up his kitchen cabinets and then shutting them after a quick look inside.
"Sombreros?" Zach asks, eyes scanning the newspaper Chris left on the table.
Chris stops looking through the cabinets to stare at Zach. "I know you have a thing for hats, but I was thinking coffee. Not sombreros. And I think you're off a little, geographically speaking."
"I bet someone in Columbia would wear a sombrero," Zach retorts.
"Besides the point. We're talking coffee. Delicious beans that provide much needed caffeine and joy to hordes of people daily."
"Then go forth from this place and procure thy sacred beans that cause bitter sensations on your taste buds. Or suffer without it until I'm gone. Because there are clearly things your mouth would be better suited for right at this moment."
Chris shakes his head and continues his search through the cabinets.
"Fine then," Zach mutters, returning his attention to the paper, "be a spoilsport."
--
Zach never mentions Milo's name when he tells Chris he'll be gone for a few days. It's always something about filming for Heroes or how Joe's got something planned he thinks, maybe, one day that week but he's not sure which and he'll call Chris, later, when he knows he'll be free. Even though he never says it, though, Chris knows why Zach will be ignoring his calls, knows he's had his week and he'll have to wait another to see Zach in his bed again. And sometimes Chris wishes it didn't have to be that way, that it was just a few days, unless their schedules didn't permit it, instead of it being a week with no contact, no phone calls or anything, because Zach's got this other life, other boyfriend thing entirely. But he knows, most of the time, when he's not so drunk that Karl's listening to half formulated cliches about love and romance on the other end of the phone, that if he ever pushed Zach to make a choice, he'd lose the almost even time distrubtion (and just because it's even, Chris tells himself, sometimes almost tells Zach, doesn't mean it's fair, because Milo... Milo had Zach first and that will always mean just a little bit more than whatever Zach has with Chris).
--
"I'm not Chris," Milo says while he and Zach are laying in bed, postcoital.
Zach's brain starts trying to figure out why, why, why his two worlds seem to be merging right now, starts trying to remember what might have been said or figure out who might have said something and it just doesn't remember, is protesting this sudden need to think. "I know," Zach replies, voice scratchy, throat sore. And he does know, really, unless he's blitzed and his eyes are closed and they're at his place, because that doesn't smell enough like either of them for Zach to remember the difference.
"Apparently you don't." Milo doesn't elaborate, just gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom, leaves Zach to deal with cooling sheets and his half formed thoughts alone.
--
From: Zach
To: Joe
in a quandry
When Joe sees the message, he holds back a sigh, hopes this isn't going to be an "I told you so" conversation and replies, knowing his hope is probably in vain.
From: Joe
To: Zach
lunch. later. my place.
--
"It was unintentional," Zach says, rolling the water bottle along the counter top. "It's never happened before. I don't know why it did."
"What are you going to do about it?" Joe asks, secretly thinking about spiking his own water, because he doesn't really want to be talking about his brother's sex life this sober.
"Apologize? Act like it never happened?" Zach replies, beginning to feel small, worthless and possibly the biggest jerk in the history of jerks because it's not an exboyfriend's name he called out accidentally during sex, it's a current boyfriend he's seeing in addition to the boyfriend whose name he got wrong. And it makes his head hurt when he thinks about it that way.
Joe sighs. "Apologize. And maybe... you should take a break. From both of them. Reacquaint yourself with Noah and Harold. Remember them? Those animals that live in your house? Some people call them pets? Maybe even call up Kristen. Or one of your other friends. If you have any left."
Zach stares at him, glasses sliding down a little, water bottle forgotten in between his hands. "You're sounding a tad supercilious right now."
Joe stares back. "Just go fix it. And stop leaving microscratches on my counter top."
--
Zach can't bring himself to call Milo. He's pulled out his cell phone and almost dialed a few times, but could never get past the second number. It makes him feel spineless and pathetic, because he messed up, probably long before this, and he knows how to fix it, but he can't. Because admitting he made a mistake and apologizing means he has to change his behavior if he really, really means he's sorry, and he doesn't want to do that, doesn't know how to do that, can't choose just one of them.
So now he's sprawled out on his couch, reacquainting himself with what it feels like to scratch behind Noah's ears and have the compact weight of Harold on top of him and pretending his phone doesn't work anymore.
--
Kristen calls. Joe calls. Someone who's probably important calls. Zach doesn't answer, doesn't respond, doesn't listen to his voicemail. There's a knock on the door, a couple of different voices saying they know he's in there and, dammit, why doesn't he just answer?
But Zach doesn't answer, doesn't want to question why he doesn't answer, doesn't want to think about how long he's been hiding out, doesn't want to think about why he's hiding.
When the calls stop and the knocks cease and Zach's running out of food, he calls Milo, calls Chris, tells them to meet him at his place in a few hours, after he goes shopping, because they need to talk, all of them. And Zach thinks that, maybe, he can be a little less selfish but still get to eat his cake.