Fic: Crocs
Fic: Crocs
Author: demonllama1
Rating: R/NC-17
Length: 6872
Disclaimer: it's all fiction sadly.
Warnings/contains: language, bashing of Crocs, banter, snark, drunk bareback sex, domesticity.
Note 1: To the wonderful, amazing, hotasthesun lalazee for her birthday who wanted snarky domesticity in the Couture universe. Sorry for the lack of proper porn my darling!
Note 2: This is based in my Couture universe where Zach is a fashion designer.
Summary: Zach discovers that Chris owns a pair of Crocs and believes it is the end of the world.
Crocs
Chris stumbles into the kitchen in a daze with one hand adjusting his junk in his pajama pants and the other trying to flatten his hair. He flicks on the crappy coffee machine Zach owns and leans back against the counter. Noah is sitting at his feet, tail wagging expectantly like he’s waiting for his morning head ruffle.
Chris is not a morning person and never will be but thankfully Zach has learnt how to get up for work at it’sstilltechnicallynighttime o’clock without disturbing Chris at all.
“Your daddy needs to buy a new coffee machine if he still wants to carry on sticking his love pole in my ass,” Chris says to Noah who pants up at him, tail still going fast side to side. “Don’t tell your dad that I said ‘love pole’ again or I won’t hear the end of it.” Noah just looks up at him adoringly. Chris constantly complains to Zach about why he's able to get Noah to love him but Harold wants him to slowly die. The last time he’d complained Zach had sighed and said, “Noah only likes you because you smell like food all of the time.” Chris had hit him playfully.
Chris turns and frowns at the coffee machine as it makes an ominous gurgling sound and then stops doing anything at all. He has no idea why Zach, who earns enough to feed half of Mexico, can’t buy a decent coffee machine and so he starts pushing at all the buttons hard, hoping it will burst back into life and save Chris from descending into tears of frustration and falling to the ground in a heap.
He decides to try the opposite of heavy handed and starts petting the coffee machine slowly whilst muttering compliments at it like it can hear him. He’s stroking the white exterior lovingly, hoping it will spring to life, when his phone starts vibrating loudly and moves across the breakfast table.
Chris blinks down at the phone, eyes still not focusing properly. He sees the name ‘Julian’ and thinks about leaving the country for a split second.
“Fashion week is the bane of my fucking existence,” Chris grumbles to Noah who just stares at him with his head cocked to one side.
Chris flips the phone open. “Yeah?”
“We need you.”
Chris groans and braces a hand on the table as he shakes his head. “What’s he done?”
“Made three interns cry.”
Chris looks over at the clock on the cooker. “It’s not even 10am. That must be a new record,” Chris says, feeling a little bit awed at Zach’s ability to strike fear into the hearts of interns at any time of day.
“Look, if you don’t come in, none of us can be held responsible for what we end up doing to him,” Julian says, voice sounding tired and frustrated.
This happens every now and again and way more than Chris likes. Zach gets super stressed at work over something or other which ends up making him yell and shout at his employees, sometimes making them cry, sometimes making them quit, and then finally someone will call Chris and beg him to come in and calm the fucker down. It’s exhausting.
“But Julian I had such an amazing morning planned,” Chris whines. “I was going to make love to Zach’s shitty coffee machine, eat some chips and whatever cookies I can find for breakfast, and then I was going to have an hour long shower and imagine a world in which I am the king. This,” Chris says, waving his arms around, “was not part of my morning plan. Can’t you just go in there and yell at him or something?”
Julian lets out a frustrated huff and Chris feels a sharp pang of pity for the poor guy who puts up with more than that one assistant from Devil Wears Prada. Zach could wipe the floor with Meryl Streep in a few seconds flat.
“Please?” Julian asks softly.
“Fine. But you better have some awesome coffee ready for me when I come in. I’ll be there in twenty after a quick shower.”
Chris hangs up the phone and looks down at Noah like the dog totally understands his problems and empathises. He catches sight of Harold stalking into the kitchen, pausing to look at Chris, before turning away and strolling right back out. Chris is too tired to care that Zach’s cat is possibly planning to kill him in his sleep.
…
Chris strolls into the office and he always gets a bit of a kick out of the way people’s eyes light up in pure joy at seeing him. Or maybe it’s relief, but Chris likes to focus on the joy.
He gives Julian a smile as he works his way through the office area and over to the large office at the end. He pushes the door open and sees Zach, sitting behind his desk, glaring at his laptop like it’s insulted his mother.
Zach’s eyes flick up to see Chris and his shoulders sag as he sits back in his chair. “Who called you? Was it Betty? Dave? Louisa?” Zach lowers his voice. “Was it Carol? I need a reason to fire her lazy ass.”
“It’s wonderful to see you, too,” Chris says, walking up to the desk and collapsing in the chair opposite Zach. “Three interns, Zach. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I had valid reasons for yelling at every single one of them. It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little criticism.”
“Do you know what’s happening in Africa right now?” Chris blurts out.
Zach frowns. “Not specifically.”
“Well, very important and awful shit that makes your issues with flared jeans look inconsequential.”
Zach shakes his head in complete disbelief. “Flared jeans? Could you be any more behind on trends? It's not the 90's.”
Chris just shakes his head in exasperation. “Ok, get up.”
Zach glowers at him and doesn’t move. “You’re going for the hug tactic today? I thought a blowjob might relax me actually.”
“Get up before I throw you out the window.”
Zach groans and does as he’s told, pushing his body up and walking around the desk to meet Chris in a big hug. Chris runs his hands up and down Zach’s back and slowly feels the tension in his boyfriend’s body disappear as he feels Zach’s nose bury into his neck.
Then Zach stops, sniffs, and pulls back, eyes narrowing. “Please don’t tell me you used shower gel to wash your hair.”
Chris just smiles. “I was in a rush.”
“My shower gel is imported from Italy. Can’t you be a normal gay for once and take pride in the way you look by using shampoo and conditioner?”
Chris wraps his arms around Zach’s waist and squeezes tightly. “Settle down. I only used a bit.”
Zack doesn’t look like he wants to let it go but finally admits defeat and kisses Chris softly on the lips.
Chris pulls back and grins in triumph.
“We’re going to that guy’s birthday tonight right?” Chris asks once Zach has taken a few deep breaths and returned to his chair behind the desk.
“That guy?” Zach’s eyes flash for a second. “It’s Karl Lagerfield’s birthday. You remember? The guy who designs for Chanel?”
Chris nods as he vaguely remembers. “Oh yeah. Him.”
Zach looks like all the tension is coming back as he clenches his teeth and his jaw tightens. “Please tell me you’ve tried on those suits I left you.” Chris sighs as he remembers a few days ago when Chloe, one of Zach’s assistant, had rolled a clothing rack into Zach’s apartment with ten pre-Quinto approved suits for him to try on. Chris had just huffed and ignored the rack.
“They all looked identical so I tried on one. It was fine.”
Chris is fairly sure Zach’s about to explode as he fists his black hair in his hands and glares over at Chris like he’s useless.
“They are not identical. I want you to try on each one.”
“Ok,” Chris says, even though he has no intention of spending his afternoon trying on a bunch of ridiculously expensive suits that he knows are all the same.
Zach looks at him, his dark eyes sizing him up. “You’re not going to try them on are you?”
“They’re all the same,” Chris says loudly, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I’m going before I punch you or you punch me. I’ll see you at home tonight. And Zach, my little sugar puff, if I get another call from any of your team to come in and calm you down, you will not be getting any action for a very long time.”
Zach snorts and goes back to glaring intensely at his laptop.
…
Chris is lying in Zach’s bed in his underwear at 5pm in the evening and so he considers it a successful, productive day. He has a full month ahead of him until rehearsals for a new play he's in starts which means he's making the most of the spare time by doing nothing at all. He hears the door open as he lazily shoves some Cheetos in his mouth. He listens to Zach moving around the apartment before all noise comes to a stop.
Chris wipes the crumbs from his mouth and shoves the Cheetos under the comforter when he hears Zach’s measured, slow footsteps come toward the bedroom. Chris gets a sense that something bad is about to happen. He has no idea why but the heavy footfalls from the hallway sound like impending doom.
The door swings open and he sees Zach holding something up in his left hand. If he went by the look on his face alone, he would think that Zach’s holding Noah’s dead animal carcass but no, instead he’s holding Chris’ pair of Crocs.
“Hey, how was the rest of your day?” Chris asks innocently as Zach continues to stand in the doorway, chest rising and falling in deep, angry breaths as he holds the shoes slightly higher, his dark gaze not leaving Chris for a second.
“What. The fuck. Are these?” Zach asks, his voice low and dangerous.
“Crocs.”
Zach inhales sharply. “Care to continue?”
Chris swallows. “Yellow Crocs.”
“Please tell me you’re cheating on me with someone who wears Crocs and not that you actually own these monstrosities?” Chris opens his mouth to reply but Zach puts his free hand up to stop him. “You know what? I think it’d be just as bad that you’d cheat on me with a guy who wears Crocs.”
“Firstly, I’m not cheating on you. Secondly, they’re mine and they’re super comfy so whatever.”
Zach looks like he’s about to have some kind of meltdown as his face goes red and his eyes darken.
“I’m going to go put these in the trash so I can continue to see you,” Zach says tightly, turning quickly and walking away.
Chris jumps out of bed and heads into the hallway, a look of outrage on his face. “I like them. Don’t you dare throw them away, Quinto.”
He finds Zach in the kitchen, holding the pair of shoes over the trash bag threateningly.
“It’s me or the Crocs.”
Chris bursts out laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing is and he’s sure Zach isn’t serious until he sees his face.
“Come on, they’re just shoes.”
“Please tell me you don’t ever wear these in public.” Zach’s whole body is posed with hostility and absolute disgust with the items he’s holding in his hand.
Chris shrugs. “Like, to the 7-eleven but that’s it.”
Zach straightens and Chris takes a step back. “If I ever see these things again, I will give them to Noah for a chew toy. Even though he’d probably reject them too.”
Chris leans forward and takes the Crocs from Zach’s hand and wanders out of the kitchen mouthing ‘wow’. He puts them in his overnight bag and wonders when Crocs killed all of Zach’s family to warrant just a violent, unnecessary outburst. He adores and loves his boyfriend but the guy is such a drama queen that it drives him nuts sometimes. Chris throws better tantrums but when Zach wants to, he can act like the biggest, most self-entitled diva in the world.
“You try on those suits yet?” Zach asks, appearing in the doorway and pulling his jacket and shirt off in the process, and throwing them down in the hamper. He's suddenly more relaxed and has lost the hostility he held moments ago.
“Yep,” Chris lies with a smile as he makes himself comfortable on the bed and pushes his hand back in to the bag of Cheetos.
Zach looks at the bag with distaste as he pulls off his pants and heads over to his walk in wardrobe in his boxers.
“And which one will you be wearing tonight to make me proud?” Zach asks as he looks through the vast number of clothes in his closet.
Chris hums to himself as he thinks about which number he’ll pick. “The third one, I think. The pants were nice.”
Zach throws him a smile. “Baby, don’t pretend you tried them on.”
Chris winks back at him and shuffles under the comforter, knowing they have at least another five hours before they have to leave. Of course Zach throws himself into getting ready straight away which always includes a lengthy shower using all the posh crap he imports from around the world and then he spends a few years making his hair look good. Chris does appreciate the effort he puts in because the finished product is beautiful enough to be put in a gallery.
Chris’ routine includes dressing twenty minutes before leaving, running a comb through his hair and spraying himself with heaps of cologne. It’s a mystery that Zach continues to sleep with him.
When it comes around to ten pm, Chris is completely ready and Zach gets in a few gropes of his ass as they leave a 'please-dont-leave-me-again-guys' Noah and a 'leaving-again?-look-at-all-the-fucks-I-give' Harold.
…
They have a few rules within their relationship which they try and stick to when possible. Many of the rules revolve around food and include Chris cutting down on his junk food consumption and Zach having to eat at least one carb a day. Other rules include Zach not being allowed to ever smoke and Chris having to resist the temptation to dance to Lady Gaga songs in public. One of their other rules, however, is that they never get drunk together. They can go out together, but only one of them can drink heavily.
This rule came into place after a series of incidents that led to them almost being arrested. The night of Joe’s birthday had been one of the most eventful with them almost getting caught by the police having sex in Central Park and then later that same night, Chris putting a traffic cone between his legs, making rocket noises, and running down Broadway whilst Zach took a long piss on a fire hydrant in front of some tourists. So they made sure that if Zach wanted to drink, Chris wouldn’t and vice versa.
Chris wants to obey the rule but the party is full of over tanned models and old guys trying to hit on him.
Zach stumbles up to him at around midnight, looking pleasantly flushed and tipsy. “If I have to hear another eighteen year old model tell me how versatile they are and how they can, like, totally smize then someone will die here tonight. What the flying fuck is smize anyway?”
“You serious? You never watch America’s Next Top Model?” Chris asks, smiling awkwardly as another old man walks past him eyeing him up.
“No, because I have a full time job.”
“It’s smiling with your eyes.” Chris tries his best to do it but ends up looking creepy enough that Zach hands him a shot glass wordlessly. It only takes one more dirty old man to offer to buy him a yacht in exchange for sexual favours for Chris to go to the bar and order everything.
It’s the early hours of the morning when they both stumble into the apartment, drunkenly laughing about the fact that Chris finds the word ‘carrot’ funny. Harold gives them the look of a disapproving parent before stalking out of the room.
“Hate you, too,” Chris yells in the direction of where Harold went. Zach throws an arm around Chris’ waist and lets out a pathetic little giggle.
“S’ok. I love you.”
Chris turns his head to consider Zach drunkenly, his eyes glazed and his smile loose and drowsy. “You’re so cute. You’re like a pink muffin. Or a tall, very well dressed mouse. Or-”
“I get it. I’m super hot. It's one of my many superpowers.”
“One of them being modesty,” Chris says before breaking into loud laughter like he’s just told the most fabulous joke of all time.
Zach stares at him for a moment before breaking into girly giggles again as they stumble further into the apartment.
“I really want some kind of cake,” Chris suddenly says, eyes snapping around frantically like he’s waiting for it to appear.
“You’re too fat as it is,” Zach mumbles, grabbing Chris’ almost flat stomach roughly as Chris bats him away.
“You’re jealous I can eat food containing sugar without crying with guilt,” Chris says before running off toward the kitchen. He gets there and starts grabbing at the cereal boxes desperately, stuffing a handful in his mouth before trying to say “Lucky Charms” in an Irish accent and doing a little jig. He then hears Zach swear loudly once and a moment later, he walks in, his hand rubbing his head.
“You OK?” Chris asks, eyes wide as some cereal drops out of his mouth.
“Just fell over the dog I think. It was like the world smashed into me.”
Chris narrows his eyes. “You high?”
“Frugs are very bad, Christopher.”
“Frugs?” Chris says, giggling loudly and bending over for a second before straightening, his face suddenly serious. “Wanna have sex?”
“Yeah,” Zach says, nodding eagerly as he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child.
They stumble and crash into the bedroom, giving each other sloppy, messy kisses as they both almost fall over when they try to undress each other, causing them both to laugh loudly. Chris keeps finding himself distracted by things around them and even tries to push Zach away for a moment so he can go on eBay and buy a lava lamp because that would be awesome. Zach tries to move things along by pushing him onto the bed impatiently and using his weight to stop Chris from online shopping drunk.
After a long, heavy make out session Chris scoots up the bed on his hand and knees until he can rest his cheek on the cool wall above the headboard.
“Want me to put my Crocs on and fuck me in them?”
Zach snorts. “Fucking awful fucking shoes.”
He hears Zach rustling around behind him and Chris gets bored enough that he turns around and finds Zach, condom in hand, staring at it like it’s a difficult crossword puzzle.
“How dya put this on again?” Zach says as he stares between his erection and the condom dumbly.
“Dya know you can totally blow those things up and put them on your head?”
Zach looks at him like that’s the best thing he's ever heard and Chris giggles before getting into his previous position on hands and knees, his cheek against the wall.
Zach gives a huff behind him and then Chris feels the familiar burn as Zach tries to push in with barely any lube and no preparation. Sometimes they can just go at it when Chris is relaxed but this isn’t one of those times as Chris tenses with discomfort as Zach pushes in a little more forcefully. After about five minutes of uneven fucking, Chris feels his eyes shutting in tiredness, not even really paying attention to what Zach is doing. He’s not even hard himself because he’s too drunk to get it up and so he decides that Zach won’t mind if he takes a small nap.
…
Chris wakes to the glorious sound of Zach vomiting into the toilet in the bathroom across the hall. Chris turns over and buries his head into the pillow, trying to block out the heaving sounds he can hear that make his own stomach turn.
Chris stumbles to his feet, something feeling gross and icky in his ass as he stumbles out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where Zach’s hugging the toilet to himself, his brow shiny with sweat and his black hair sticking to his forehead. His face is unusually pale and he pretty much looks like death. Chris moves around him to splash some water on his face and realises he doesn’t look much better as he stares at his reflection.
“Looking hot,” Chris says down to Zach who’s now leaning his cheek against the toilet rim.
“Go fuck yourself,” Zach growls before coughing into the toilet loudly.
Chris frowns as he stares at his reflection, his fingers sliding down to beneath his ass cheeks. “Why do I have dried come in my ass?”
Zach shrugs before retching again loudly, causing Chris’ face to screw up in utter disgust.
“You use a condom?” Chris asks, looking down to the top of Zach’s black hair.
Then Zach flicks his head back, getting his hair out of his eyes and stares at Chris guiltily. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get it on and in my state I thought you’d be totally cool with doing it bareback. You know I’d never assume that if I’d been sober. Fuck. I’m so stupid.”
It’s not the first time they’ve had sex without a condom but 99% of the time they do. After the first time they’d done it, Chris had freaked out and had gotten an emergency appointment at a clinic to get tested. Zach wasn’t far behind him. They’d both been negative for everything and Zach had actually suggested that they stop using protection all together but Chris had screwed up his face, put his foot down, and said that he really didn’t like the feel of come in his ass.
Chris shakes his head and lets his hand wander down to Zach’s greasy hair, stroking it softly. “S’ok. I’m going to need to shower to clean all your love liquid out of my ass though.”
“Wish you’d stop calling my semen 'love liquid',” Zach says with a groan as he starts heaving again into the toilet.
“You know you love it.”
Zach lets out a moan which causes Noah to run inside, give him a look, and run back out again.
“Hey, baby?” Zach asks, voice all pathetic and quiet. Chris knows he’s putting it on and sighs as he leans back against the sink.
“What?”
“Can you bring your Crocs in here so I can puke on them?”
“Sure, if you lick my ass clean.”
Zach glares at him and Chris gives him an exaggerated wink before leaving him be.
When Zach finally stumbles out of the bathroom, he looks less like death which Chris is grateful for because whatever crap they tell you on TV and in romantic comedies, it is possible to find the love of your life ugly at certain times. Chris is sitting on the couch when Zach walks in with his phone in his hand, flicking through something on the screen.
“Ok, you’re no longer ‘fineasspine’ in my phone. Must have changed it when I was drunk,” Zach mumbles, falling onto the couch next to Chris and lying his cheek against Chris’ shoulder pathetically.
Chris picks up his own cell phone and clicks into his contacts. It doesn’t take long to find the edit that’s happened in his own phonebook.
“You’re ‘assfucker’ in mine. That’s incredibly accurate for drunken me.”
Zach snorts and carries on looking at his phone. “Found it. ‘Assfuckee.’”
“Classy.”
“But accurate.”
Chris watches as Zach changes ‘assfuckee’ to ‘mybigpinetree’ before sliding his phone shut.
“Let’s never drink again,” Chris mutters, turning his head and kissing Zach’s clammy forehead.
“Yeah. Let’s not.”
…
Every two weeks is Zach’s favourite night. By favourite night, Chris means most hated night. It’s the night where Zach mingles with the little people by deigning to grace Chris’ crappy studio apartment with his presence for a whole night. Chris knows that Zach hates the place with its loud air-con unit, ultra thin walls and a toilet that only flushes before 6am on Fridays, but Chris is proud of it because it’s completely his.
Zach normally walks into the apartment looking like he’s afraid of touching anything at all because it’ll give him some incurable disease, and then begins cleaning everything in his sight. They’ve never once had sex at Chris’ place because Zach is all too aware that Chris’ moans would be heard by everyone in the building.
“If you’d just move back in with me I wouldn’t have to be sitting here with two packs of anti-bacterial wipes,” Zach says as he sits in bed, pulling out one of the aforementioned wipes and running it along the metal headboard.
“You used to live in a place like this, get off your diamond encrusted high horse,” Chris says as he strolls over to where Zach is sitting in a lotus position, takes the wipe out of his hand and throws it in the trash. Zach pointedly pulls out another wipe with a flourish and continues where he left off.
“Even though I lived somewhere crappy and small, it was never like this. Also, I’m more accustomed to my lifestyle now.”
Chris throws himself onto the bed next to Zach and groans into the comforter and smiles when Zach pats his ass gently.
“So, my brother’s split up with his girlfriend,” Zach says casually as he continues working on the headboard.
Chris sits up instantly. “He’s single?”
Zach pauses his cleaning and gives Chris a look. “He’s still straight.”
“Maybe he hasn’t found the right guy. Can you put in a good word for me?” Chris asks hopefully.
Zach balls up his wipe, throws it across the room to the trash can before puling out another. “You want me, the boyfriend you’re in a loving, committed relationship with, to ask my brother if he’d be interested in you? Please stop.”
Chris rolls onto his back, puts his head into Zach’s lap and stares up at him. “Threesome?”
“I hate you a little right now.”
“I just want to keep my options open.” Chris pauses as he stares up at Zach’s face. “I bet he wouldn’t have issue with my Crocs.”
“That’s because he’s not a world renowned fashion designer and doesn’t know shit about shoes.”
“Whatever. I’m still going to hit on Joe next time I see him.”
“How is that any different from every time you see him?” Zach jokes, smirking down at him as he throws another wipe in the trash over Chris’ head.
“Would you stop cleaning for one second? Anyway, I’m hungry.”
“Shocking,” Zach says dryly as he pulls out another wipe and holds it out of Chris’ reach so he can’t snatch it off him.
Chris pushes himself up and grabs his phone, typing out a quick message. “Ok, here we go, ‘Hi Joe. Like carbs? Me too. Wanna bang?’” Chris reads aloud.
“Still straight,” Zach sing-songs from where he’s now wiping down the bed frame.
Chris saves the message to drafts, not having any intention of ever sending it and Zach knows it. It’s just a running joke between them. Chris pretends that he’s settling for the lesser brother and Zach pretends to be annoyed that Chris has a crush on Joe. It works for them but sometimes makes friends and family frown when Chris casually drops into conversation how God hates him because he made the less attractive brother gay.
They spend the evening bickering over Zach’s insistence on cleaning all surfaces and refusing to eat the pasta Chris has made. Chris thinks Zach’s excuse that he’s already had his one carb of the day - a roll at lunch - is pathetic and eats Zach’s portion in front of him, making mmming noises as he eats it slowly. Zach rolls his eyes and ignores him in favour of cleaning the skirting board.
When Chris wakes up the next morning he stretches once before turning over and throwing his arm over Zach’s chest and burying his nose into the glorious chest hair. Except it’s not his chest he throws his arm over but Zach’s thighs and it’s not chest hair, it’s pubic hair and he feels Zach’s cock give a small twitch against his cheek at the sudden attention.
Chris gives a small grumble of confusion before shrugging and nuzzling his nose against Zach’s soft cock, giving it a small kiss.
“Chris,” Zach says, voice hard. Chris feels Zach’s hand wrap around his jaw and pull his face away from his crotch.
“Wassit?” Chris asks, squinting up at Zach as he yawns loudly.
“I’m going to have to break up with you,” Zach says, voice even and measured.
Chris just snorts and sits up, rubbing at his eyes before peering at Zach, who’s sitting up against the headboard, his laptop open next to him.
“What have I done now?” Chris asks, voice deep and thick from sleep.
Zach picks up the laptop and hands it wordlessly to Chris before getting out of bed and walking over to the tiny en-suite bathroom and slamming the door behind him. Chris frowns and is fully expecting some rumours that he’s cheating or something equally ridiculous when he sees the pictures. He’s rarely papped because he’s only really known through Zach and has no celebrity status of his own even after the couple of major modelling campaigns he's done, but these photos have garnered attention for some reason.
There’s only three photos and they’re all of him coming out of the 7-eleven around the corner. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt, a large grey cardigan and black jeans. It’s not a fashion disaster and he’s not with anyone so he’s unsure why Zach is getting so upset. Then he sees the yellow Crocs he’s wearing in the pictures. Chris glances at the shut en-suite bathroom and wonders whether Zach’s hyperventilating in there.
Chris scrolls down the page to the comment section and there’s the odd comment saying ‘Zach’s boyfriend is so hot’ but the vast majority of people commenting are saying stupid crap like ‘why would Zach Quinto allow his boyfriend to wear crocs?’ Chris snorts derisively at the idea he needs to start getting approval over everything he wears from his boyfriend because of his occupation. Chris reads a few more, some helping his self-esteem and others crushing it painfully, before snapping the lid shut and pushing himself to his feet and wandering over to the door.
“Zachy, come out. They’re just shoes. I think you need to sort your priorities out.”
The door flies open and he comes face to face with Zach, who is in full rage mood if his puffed out cheeks are anything to go by.
“I hate those fucking shoes. Throw them away or we’re done.”
Chris knows he isn’t serious. At least, he hopes he’s not serious. “Africa. Read up about it. A fashion designer’s boyfriend wearing Crocs is not the end of the world or even proper news.”
“And yet it’s got attention by the media.”
“You’re overreacting. And you know how often I overreact and act like some teenager? If I’m telling you’re overreacting, you really, really are. So, let’s go get breakfast and stop by your place to see if Harold has built the means by which I die yet.”
Zach grabs Chris’ shoulders and stares at him. “I love you so damn much but the Crocs are testing me. Please, for me, get rid of them. I’ll buy you some proper shoes that are just as comfortable I promise.”
“The shoes you buy are expensive and feel like a python slowly squeezing you to death through your feet. It’s not a good time.”
Zach cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Chris like he’s trying to consider a new position to get what he wants out of Chris. Over the course of their relationship, Zach has got better and better at working out the perfect strategy to get his way. Sometimes he yells at Chris, sometimes it’s some A+ passive aggressiveness and then every now and again Zach will throw bribery in his direction.
“I will buy you a car.”
Bribery it is, Chris thinks with a smirk. “You’re seriously going to buy me a car if I throw out my Crocs?”
“Yeah. I’ll even buy you that Jeep Wrangler thing you keep saying you want so you can drive around pretending you’re in Jurassic Park. That’s how much I hate those shoes and love you.”
Chris judges himself silently that he’s seriously considering taking Zach’s offer. Normally when Zach bribes him with something, Chris gives in and tells Zach not to bother buying him whatever he’s offered because Chris really hates taking things from Zach. But Chris really wants that Jeep because he really loves Jurassic Park.
“Fine. Buy me a car and I’ll throw out all my pairs of Crocs.”
Zach’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “You have more than one pair? It’s like you’re a stranger.”
Chris rolls his eyes and walks across the room to collapse back on the bed. “They’re just shoes.”
“They are ugly, cheaply made shoes that look like shit on everyone.”
“Tell me what you really think,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes.
Zach walks over to the bed and lies down next to Chris. He makes his brown eyes all wide and doe-eyed and starts stroking Chris’ hair. Chris calls him all sorts of names in his head because the bastard knows he can’t resist Zach when he’s being all affectionate and adorable.
“Fine.”
Zach rolls on top of him, pinning him to the mattress and starts kissing him slowly and lazily.
“Thank you,” Zach whispers against his ear. “Now agree to move in with me so I never have to be in this hell hole ever again.”
“Nope. Not yet.”
Zach groans and rests his forehead against Chris’. “Please.”
“No way. This is my place and I like that it’s just mine. It keeps me grounded.”
Zach screws up his face in disapproval, his eyebrows drawing together. “I’ll buy you two Jeep Wranglers and we can race them.”
Chris laughs and shoves Zach off of him.
Chris is almost inside the bathroom when he hears, “I will buy you your own pet Velociraptor if you move in with me.”
…
“So,” Chris says, coming up to Joe with an eyebrow waggle and his hip cocked to one side. “Hear you’re back on the market.”
Joe just smirks around his drink as they stand at a high table in one of Zach favourite bars. It's his favourite because it's high class but out of the way which means he's left alone and not bothered by every wannabe model within a one mile radius. “Zach warned me you’d hit on me.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my American duty if I didn’t. Look, Zach’s great and all but the guy doesn’t appreciate food the way I do. I just wanna share chocolate fondue with someone who doesn't just eat the strawberries. And Joe, a hole's a hole, amiright?”
Joe's smile splits his face and he lazily shakes his head. “Yeah, but then I'd reach around and find a penis.”
“Don't reach around,” Chris says like its obvious. “It'll be great, we can have like three dogs and no cats that glare at us or scratch us in our sleep.”
Joe snorts. “I love Noah but I'd never have my own dog. Like honestly, what is the point in having something that slobbers all over you, leaves hair everywhere and restricts you from going away for long periods of time? Waste of money and I just don't get the appeal. Cats on the other hand, they're not bad.”
Chris’ face scrunches up in disgust. “I just can’t,” Chris says dramatically, putting up his hand and walking away to find Zach. He finds him at the bar getting drinks whilst being chatted up by some scarily thin bartender who is winking so much that Chris wonders if the guy actually has something in his eye.
Chris slides an arm around Zach’s waist and lays his head on his shoulder gently. “Never leave me.”
“Not planning on it,” Zach murmurs back as he uses a pink straw to stir his drink. “You destroy those shoes?”
“Not so much destroy as gave away to charity. I thought you’d be happy they’re going to people less fortunate.”
Zach swings around and looks at him with a spark of complete disbelief. “Chris, it’s nice you think you’re helping but the people they’ll end up with are already unfortunate enough and you’re just making their situation worse.”
“You make me sad. Anyway, where’s my Jeep?”
“In my pants.”
Chris keeps a straight face, flicks his eyes to Zach’s crotch and then back up, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure. And I have Abba in mine.”
“In your dreams.”
Chris smiles brightly and takes the drink Zach offers him from the bar top which has zero alcohol in. “That’d be awesome though.”
“Abba in your pants? I’m a little proud of how gay you’re sounding right now.”
Chris winks and leans forward to kiss Zach’s lips softly. “So, your brother doesn't want a dog with me.”
Zach smirks and his eyes drop to the drink he’s holding like he’s doing his best not to laugh.
Chris face drops. “You told him to say that to me.”
“I knew there's things he could say that would turn you off. Love for cats and hatred for dogs would definitely be a deal breaker for you.”
Chris huffs. “You know me too well, Quinto.” Chris puts his drink down, turns around, spots Zach’s brother and starts jogging over to him. “Wait, Joe, you wanna dance?”
He’s half way to his destination when he feels a strong hand grip his own and pull him roughly back. Chris lets out a small grunt as he finds his body flush against Zach’s, who’s staring at him with dark eyes.
“No more hitting on my brother.”
“You know I’m just kidding around,” Chris says playfully, leaning forward to brush his lips against Zach’s.
“I know. You can dance with me now. I won’t object if you wanna grind your ass against my crotch. Just throwing it out there. As a suggestion.” Zach waggles his eyebrows.
“Nah, I have a better idea.” Chris wraps Zach’s skinny tie around his hand, his fingers curling into a fist, and he turns his back on Zach and pulls him along behind him as he heads to the disabled bathroom with intent. Zach follows obediently and that turns Chris on more than he can say. They pass by Joe who's talking to a very pretty redhead and Chris stops short.
“Last chance to get up on all this, Joe, or I'm stuck with this fucker forever,” Chris says, first indicating his body before pointing at Zach.
Zach rolls his eyes, bats Chris' hand away from his tie and crosses his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, thanks but no thanks, Chris,” Joe says, giving Zach a wink before going back to the girl he was talking to.
“Guess you're stuck with me,” Zach says darkly into Chris' ear.
“I guess,” Chris mumbles sulkily before dragging Zach into the bathroom and blowing his mind.
The End
Author: demonllama1
Rating: R/NC-17
Length: 6872
Disclaimer: it's all fiction sadly.
Warnings/contains: language, bashing of Crocs, banter, snark, drunk bareback sex, domesticity.
Note 1: To the wonderful, amazing, hotasthesun lalazee for her birthday who wanted snarky domesticity in the Couture universe. Sorry for the lack of proper porn my darling!
Note 2: This is based in my Couture universe where Zach is a fashion designer.
Summary: Zach discovers that Chris owns a pair of Crocs and believes it is the end of the world.
Crocs
Chris stumbles into the kitchen in a daze with one hand adjusting his junk in his pajama pants and the other trying to flatten his hair. He flicks on the crappy coffee machine Zach owns and leans back against the counter. Noah is sitting at his feet, tail wagging expectantly like he’s waiting for his morning head ruffle.
Chris is not a morning person and never will be but thankfully Zach has learnt how to get up for work at it’sstilltechnicallynighttime o’clock without disturbing Chris at all.
“Your daddy needs to buy a new coffee machine if he still wants to carry on sticking his love pole in my ass,” Chris says to Noah who pants up at him, tail still going fast side to side. “Don’t tell your dad that I said ‘love pole’ again or I won’t hear the end of it.” Noah just looks up at him adoringly. Chris constantly complains to Zach about why he's able to get Noah to love him but Harold wants him to slowly die. The last time he’d complained Zach had sighed and said, “Noah only likes you because you smell like food all of the time.” Chris had hit him playfully.
Chris turns and frowns at the coffee machine as it makes an ominous gurgling sound and then stops doing anything at all. He has no idea why Zach, who earns enough to feed half of Mexico, can’t buy a decent coffee machine and so he starts pushing at all the buttons hard, hoping it will burst back into life and save Chris from descending into tears of frustration and falling to the ground in a heap.
He decides to try the opposite of heavy handed and starts petting the coffee machine slowly whilst muttering compliments at it like it can hear him. He’s stroking the white exterior lovingly, hoping it will spring to life, when his phone starts vibrating loudly and moves across the breakfast table.
Chris blinks down at the phone, eyes still not focusing properly. He sees the name ‘Julian’ and thinks about leaving the country for a split second.
“Fashion week is the bane of my fucking existence,” Chris grumbles to Noah who just stares at him with his head cocked to one side.
Chris flips the phone open. “Yeah?”
“We need you.”
Chris groans and braces a hand on the table as he shakes his head. “What’s he done?”
“Made three interns cry.”
Chris looks over at the clock on the cooker. “It’s not even 10am. That must be a new record,” Chris says, feeling a little bit awed at Zach’s ability to strike fear into the hearts of interns at any time of day.
“Look, if you don’t come in, none of us can be held responsible for what we end up doing to him,” Julian says, voice sounding tired and frustrated.
This happens every now and again and way more than Chris likes. Zach gets super stressed at work over something or other which ends up making him yell and shout at his employees, sometimes making them cry, sometimes making them quit, and then finally someone will call Chris and beg him to come in and calm the fucker down. It’s exhausting.
“But Julian I had such an amazing morning planned,” Chris whines. “I was going to make love to Zach’s shitty coffee machine, eat some chips and whatever cookies I can find for breakfast, and then I was going to have an hour long shower and imagine a world in which I am the king. This,” Chris says, waving his arms around, “was not part of my morning plan. Can’t you just go in there and yell at him or something?”
Julian lets out a frustrated huff and Chris feels a sharp pang of pity for the poor guy who puts up with more than that one assistant from Devil Wears Prada. Zach could wipe the floor with Meryl Streep in a few seconds flat.
“Please?” Julian asks softly.
“Fine. But you better have some awesome coffee ready for me when I come in. I’ll be there in twenty after a quick shower.”
Chris hangs up the phone and looks down at Noah like the dog totally understands his problems and empathises. He catches sight of Harold stalking into the kitchen, pausing to look at Chris, before turning away and strolling right back out. Chris is too tired to care that Zach’s cat is possibly planning to kill him in his sleep.
…
Chris strolls into the office and he always gets a bit of a kick out of the way people’s eyes light up in pure joy at seeing him. Or maybe it’s relief, but Chris likes to focus on the joy.
He gives Julian a smile as he works his way through the office area and over to the large office at the end. He pushes the door open and sees Zach, sitting behind his desk, glaring at his laptop like it’s insulted his mother.
Zach’s eyes flick up to see Chris and his shoulders sag as he sits back in his chair. “Who called you? Was it Betty? Dave? Louisa?” Zach lowers his voice. “Was it Carol? I need a reason to fire her lazy ass.”
“It’s wonderful to see you, too,” Chris says, walking up to the desk and collapsing in the chair opposite Zach. “Three interns, Zach. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I had valid reasons for yelling at every single one of them. It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little criticism.”
“Do you know what’s happening in Africa right now?” Chris blurts out.
Zach frowns. “Not specifically.”
“Well, very important and awful shit that makes your issues with flared jeans look inconsequential.”
Zach shakes his head in complete disbelief. “Flared jeans? Could you be any more behind on trends? It's not the 90's.”
Chris just shakes his head in exasperation. “Ok, get up.”
Zach glowers at him and doesn’t move. “You’re going for the hug tactic today? I thought a blowjob might relax me actually.”
“Get up before I throw you out the window.”
Zach groans and does as he’s told, pushing his body up and walking around the desk to meet Chris in a big hug. Chris runs his hands up and down Zach’s back and slowly feels the tension in his boyfriend’s body disappear as he feels Zach’s nose bury into his neck.
Then Zach stops, sniffs, and pulls back, eyes narrowing. “Please don’t tell me you used shower gel to wash your hair.”
Chris just smiles. “I was in a rush.”
“My shower gel is imported from Italy. Can’t you be a normal gay for once and take pride in the way you look by using shampoo and conditioner?”
Chris wraps his arms around Zach’s waist and squeezes tightly. “Settle down. I only used a bit.”
Zack doesn’t look like he wants to let it go but finally admits defeat and kisses Chris softly on the lips.
Chris pulls back and grins in triumph.
“We’re going to that guy’s birthday tonight right?” Chris asks once Zach has taken a few deep breaths and returned to his chair behind the desk.
“That guy?” Zach’s eyes flash for a second. “It’s Karl Lagerfield’s birthday. You remember? The guy who designs for Chanel?”
Chris nods as he vaguely remembers. “Oh yeah. Him.”
Zach looks like all the tension is coming back as he clenches his teeth and his jaw tightens. “Please tell me you’ve tried on those suits I left you.” Chris sighs as he remembers a few days ago when Chloe, one of Zach’s assistant, had rolled a clothing rack into Zach’s apartment with ten pre-Quinto approved suits for him to try on. Chris had just huffed and ignored the rack.
“They all looked identical so I tried on one. It was fine.”
Chris is fairly sure Zach’s about to explode as he fists his black hair in his hands and glares over at Chris like he’s useless.
“They are not identical. I want you to try on each one.”
“Ok,” Chris says, even though he has no intention of spending his afternoon trying on a bunch of ridiculously expensive suits that he knows are all the same.
Zach looks at him, his dark eyes sizing him up. “You’re not going to try them on are you?”
“They’re all the same,” Chris says loudly, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I’m going before I punch you or you punch me. I’ll see you at home tonight. And Zach, my little sugar puff, if I get another call from any of your team to come in and calm you down, you will not be getting any action for a very long time.”
Zach snorts and goes back to glaring intensely at his laptop.
…
Chris is lying in Zach’s bed in his underwear at 5pm in the evening and so he considers it a successful, productive day. He has a full month ahead of him until rehearsals for a new play he's in starts which means he's making the most of the spare time by doing nothing at all. He hears the door open as he lazily shoves some Cheetos in his mouth. He listens to Zach moving around the apartment before all noise comes to a stop.
Chris wipes the crumbs from his mouth and shoves the Cheetos under the comforter when he hears Zach’s measured, slow footsteps come toward the bedroom. Chris gets a sense that something bad is about to happen. He has no idea why but the heavy footfalls from the hallway sound like impending doom.
The door swings open and he sees Zach holding something up in his left hand. If he went by the look on his face alone, he would think that Zach’s holding Noah’s dead animal carcass but no, instead he’s holding Chris’ pair of Crocs.
“Hey, how was the rest of your day?” Chris asks innocently as Zach continues to stand in the doorway, chest rising and falling in deep, angry breaths as he holds the shoes slightly higher, his dark gaze not leaving Chris for a second.
“What. The fuck. Are these?” Zach asks, his voice low and dangerous.
“Crocs.”
Zach inhales sharply. “Care to continue?”
Chris swallows. “Yellow Crocs.”
“Please tell me you’re cheating on me with someone who wears Crocs and not that you actually own these monstrosities?” Chris opens his mouth to reply but Zach puts his free hand up to stop him. “You know what? I think it’d be just as bad that you’d cheat on me with a guy who wears Crocs.”
“Firstly, I’m not cheating on you. Secondly, they’re mine and they’re super comfy so whatever.”
Zach looks like he’s about to have some kind of meltdown as his face goes red and his eyes darken.
“I’m going to go put these in the trash so I can continue to see you,” Zach says tightly, turning quickly and walking away.
Chris jumps out of bed and heads into the hallway, a look of outrage on his face. “I like them. Don’t you dare throw them away, Quinto.”
He finds Zach in the kitchen, holding the pair of shoes over the trash bag threateningly.
“It’s me or the Crocs.”
Chris bursts out laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing is and he’s sure Zach isn’t serious until he sees his face.
“Come on, they’re just shoes.”
“Please tell me you don’t ever wear these in public.” Zach’s whole body is posed with hostility and absolute disgust with the items he’s holding in his hand.
Chris shrugs. “Like, to the 7-eleven but that’s it.”
Zach straightens and Chris takes a step back. “If I ever see these things again, I will give them to Noah for a chew toy. Even though he’d probably reject them too.”
Chris leans forward and takes the Crocs from Zach’s hand and wanders out of the kitchen mouthing ‘wow’. He puts them in his overnight bag and wonders when Crocs killed all of Zach’s family to warrant just a violent, unnecessary outburst. He adores and loves his boyfriend but the guy is such a drama queen that it drives him nuts sometimes. Chris throws better tantrums but when Zach wants to, he can act like the biggest, most self-entitled diva in the world.
“You try on those suits yet?” Zach asks, appearing in the doorway and pulling his jacket and shirt off in the process, and throwing them down in the hamper. He's suddenly more relaxed and has lost the hostility he held moments ago.
“Yep,” Chris lies with a smile as he makes himself comfortable on the bed and pushes his hand back in to the bag of Cheetos.
Zach looks at the bag with distaste as he pulls off his pants and heads over to his walk in wardrobe in his boxers.
“And which one will you be wearing tonight to make me proud?” Zach asks as he looks through the vast number of clothes in his closet.
Chris hums to himself as he thinks about which number he’ll pick. “The third one, I think. The pants were nice.”
Zach throws him a smile. “Baby, don’t pretend you tried them on.”
Chris winks back at him and shuffles under the comforter, knowing they have at least another five hours before they have to leave. Of course Zach throws himself into getting ready straight away which always includes a lengthy shower using all the posh crap he imports from around the world and then he spends a few years making his hair look good. Chris does appreciate the effort he puts in because the finished product is beautiful enough to be put in a gallery.
Chris’ routine includes dressing twenty minutes before leaving, running a comb through his hair and spraying himself with heaps of cologne. It’s a mystery that Zach continues to sleep with him.
When it comes around to ten pm, Chris is completely ready and Zach gets in a few gropes of his ass as they leave a 'please-dont-leave-me-again-guys' Noah and a 'leaving-again?-look-at-all-the-fucks-I-give' Harold.
…
They have a few rules within their relationship which they try and stick to when possible. Many of the rules revolve around food and include Chris cutting down on his junk food consumption and Zach having to eat at least one carb a day. Other rules include Zach not being allowed to ever smoke and Chris having to resist the temptation to dance to Lady Gaga songs in public. One of their other rules, however, is that they never get drunk together. They can go out together, but only one of them can drink heavily.
This rule came into place after a series of incidents that led to them almost being arrested. The night of Joe’s birthday had been one of the most eventful with them almost getting caught by the police having sex in Central Park and then later that same night, Chris putting a traffic cone between his legs, making rocket noises, and running down Broadway whilst Zach took a long piss on a fire hydrant in front of some tourists. So they made sure that if Zach wanted to drink, Chris wouldn’t and vice versa.
Chris wants to obey the rule but the party is full of over tanned models and old guys trying to hit on him.
Zach stumbles up to him at around midnight, looking pleasantly flushed and tipsy. “If I have to hear another eighteen year old model tell me how versatile they are and how they can, like, totally smize then someone will die here tonight. What the flying fuck is smize anyway?”
“You serious? You never watch America’s Next Top Model?” Chris asks, smiling awkwardly as another old man walks past him eyeing him up.
“No, because I have a full time job.”
“It’s smiling with your eyes.” Chris tries his best to do it but ends up looking creepy enough that Zach hands him a shot glass wordlessly. It only takes one more dirty old man to offer to buy him a yacht in exchange for sexual favours for Chris to go to the bar and order everything.
It’s the early hours of the morning when they both stumble into the apartment, drunkenly laughing about the fact that Chris finds the word ‘carrot’ funny. Harold gives them the look of a disapproving parent before stalking out of the room.
“Hate you, too,” Chris yells in the direction of where Harold went. Zach throws an arm around Chris’ waist and lets out a pathetic little giggle.
“S’ok. I love you.”
Chris turns his head to consider Zach drunkenly, his eyes glazed and his smile loose and drowsy. “You’re so cute. You’re like a pink muffin. Or a tall, very well dressed mouse. Or-”
“I get it. I’m super hot. It's one of my many superpowers.”
“One of them being modesty,” Chris says before breaking into loud laughter like he’s just told the most fabulous joke of all time.
Zach stares at him for a moment before breaking into girly giggles again as they stumble further into the apartment.
“I really want some kind of cake,” Chris suddenly says, eyes snapping around frantically like he’s waiting for it to appear.
“You’re too fat as it is,” Zach mumbles, grabbing Chris’ almost flat stomach roughly as Chris bats him away.
“You’re jealous I can eat food containing sugar without crying with guilt,” Chris says before running off toward the kitchen. He gets there and starts grabbing at the cereal boxes desperately, stuffing a handful in his mouth before trying to say “Lucky Charms” in an Irish accent and doing a little jig. He then hears Zach swear loudly once and a moment later, he walks in, his hand rubbing his head.
“You OK?” Chris asks, eyes wide as some cereal drops out of his mouth.
“Just fell over the dog I think. It was like the world smashed into me.”
Chris narrows his eyes. “You high?”
“Frugs are very bad, Christopher.”
“Frugs?” Chris says, giggling loudly and bending over for a second before straightening, his face suddenly serious. “Wanna have sex?”
“Yeah,” Zach says, nodding eagerly as he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child.
They stumble and crash into the bedroom, giving each other sloppy, messy kisses as they both almost fall over when they try to undress each other, causing them both to laugh loudly. Chris keeps finding himself distracted by things around them and even tries to push Zach away for a moment so he can go on eBay and buy a lava lamp because that would be awesome. Zach tries to move things along by pushing him onto the bed impatiently and using his weight to stop Chris from online shopping drunk.
After a long, heavy make out session Chris scoots up the bed on his hand and knees until he can rest his cheek on the cool wall above the headboard.
“Want me to put my Crocs on and fuck me in them?”
Zach snorts. “Fucking awful fucking shoes.”
He hears Zach rustling around behind him and Chris gets bored enough that he turns around and finds Zach, condom in hand, staring at it like it’s a difficult crossword puzzle.
“How dya put this on again?” Zach says as he stares between his erection and the condom dumbly.
“Dya know you can totally blow those things up and put them on your head?”
Zach looks at him like that’s the best thing he's ever heard and Chris giggles before getting into his previous position on hands and knees, his cheek against the wall.
Zach gives a huff behind him and then Chris feels the familiar burn as Zach tries to push in with barely any lube and no preparation. Sometimes they can just go at it when Chris is relaxed but this isn’t one of those times as Chris tenses with discomfort as Zach pushes in a little more forcefully. After about five minutes of uneven fucking, Chris feels his eyes shutting in tiredness, not even really paying attention to what Zach is doing. He’s not even hard himself because he’s too drunk to get it up and so he decides that Zach won’t mind if he takes a small nap.
…
Chris wakes to the glorious sound of Zach vomiting into the toilet in the bathroom across the hall. Chris turns over and buries his head into the pillow, trying to block out the heaving sounds he can hear that make his own stomach turn.
Chris stumbles to his feet, something feeling gross and icky in his ass as he stumbles out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where Zach’s hugging the toilet to himself, his brow shiny with sweat and his black hair sticking to his forehead. His face is unusually pale and he pretty much looks like death. Chris moves around him to splash some water on his face and realises he doesn’t look much better as he stares at his reflection.
“Looking hot,” Chris says down to Zach who’s now leaning his cheek against the toilet rim.
“Go fuck yourself,” Zach growls before coughing into the toilet loudly.
Chris frowns as he stares at his reflection, his fingers sliding down to beneath his ass cheeks. “Why do I have dried come in my ass?”
Zach shrugs before retching again loudly, causing Chris’ face to screw up in utter disgust.
“You use a condom?” Chris asks, looking down to the top of Zach’s black hair.
Then Zach flicks his head back, getting his hair out of his eyes and stares at Chris guiltily. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get it on and in my state I thought you’d be totally cool with doing it bareback. You know I’d never assume that if I’d been sober. Fuck. I’m so stupid.”
It’s not the first time they’ve had sex without a condom but 99% of the time they do. After the first time they’d done it, Chris had freaked out and had gotten an emergency appointment at a clinic to get tested. Zach wasn’t far behind him. They’d both been negative for everything and Zach had actually suggested that they stop using protection all together but Chris had screwed up his face, put his foot down, and said that he really didn’t like the feel of come in his ass.
Chris shakes his head and lets his hand wander down to Zach’s greasy hair, stroking it softly. “S’ok. I’m going to need to shower to clean all your love liquid out of my ass though.”
“Wish you’d stop calling my semen 'love liquid',” Zach says with a groan as he starts heaving again into the toilet.
“You know you love it.”
Zach lets out a moan which causes Noah to run inside, give him a look, and run back out again.
“Hey, baby?” Zach asks, voice all pathetic and quiet. Chris knows he’s putting it on and sighs as he leans back against the sink.
“What?”
“Can you bring your Crocs in here so I can puke on them?”
“Sure, if you lick my ass clean.”
Zach glares at him and Chris gives him an exaggerated wink before leaving him be.
When Zach finally stumbles out of the bathroom, he looks less like death which Chris is grateful for because whatever crap they tell you on TV and in romantic comedies, it is possible to find the love of your life ugly at certain times. Chris is sitting on the couch when Zach walks in with his phone in his hand, flicking through something on the screen.
“Ok, you’re no longer ‘fineasspine’ in my phone. Must have changed it when I was drunk,” Zach mumbles, falling onto the couch next to Chris and lying his cheek against Chris’ shoulder pathetically.
Chris picks up his own cell phone and clicks into his contacts. It doesn’t take long to find the edit that’s happened in his own phonebook.
“You’re ‘assfucker’ in mine. That’s incredibly accurate for drunken me.”
Zach snorts and carries on looking at his phone. “Found it. ‘Assfuckee.’”
“Classy.”
“But accurate.”
Chris watches as Zach changes ‘assfuckee’ to ‘mybigpinetree’ before sliding his phone shut.
“Let’s never drink again,” Chris mutters, turning his head and kissing Zach’s clammy forehead.
“Yeah. Let’s not.”
…
Every two weeks is Zach’s favourite night. By favourite night, Chris means most hated night. It’s the night where Zach mingles with the little people by deigning to grace Chris’ crappy studio apartment with his presence for a whole night. Chris knows that Zach hates the place with its loud air-con unit, ultra thin walls and a toilet that only flushes before 6am on Fridays, but Chris is proud of it because it’s completely his.
Zach normally walks into the apartment looking like he’s afraid of touching anything at all because it’ll give him some incurable disease, and then begins cleaning everything in his sight. They’ve never once had sex at Chris’ place because Zach is all too aware that Chris’ moans would be heard by everyone in the building.
“If you’d just move back in with me I wouldn’t have to be sitting here with two packs of anti-bacterial wipes,” Zach says as he sits in bed, pulling out one of the aforementioned wipes and running it along the metal headboard.
“You used to live in a place like this, get off your diamond encrusted high horse,” Chris says as he strolls over to where Zach is sitting in a lotus position, takes the wipe out of his hand and throws it in the trash. Zach pointedly pulls out another wipe with a flourish and continues where he left off.
“Even though I lived somewhere crappy and small, it was never like this. Also, I’m more accustomed to my lifestyle now.”
Chris throws himself onto the bed next to Zach and groans into the comforter and smiles when Zach pats his ass gently.
“So, my brother’s split up with his girlfriend,” Zach says casually as he continues working on the headboard.
Chris sits up instantly. “He’s single?”
Zach pauses his cleaning and gives Chris a look. “He’s still straight.”
“Maybe he hasn’t found the right guy. Can you put in a good word for me?” Chris asks hopefully.
Zach balls up his wipe, throws it across the room to the trash can before puling out another. “You want me, the boyfriend you’re in a loving, committed relationship with, to ask my brother if he’d be interested in you? Please stop.”
Chris rolls onto his back, puts his head into Zach’s lap and stares up at him. “Threesome?”
“I hate you a little right now.”
“I just want to keep my options open.” Chris pauses as he stares up at Zach’s face. “I bet he wouldn’t have issue with my Crocs.”
“That’s because he’s not a world renowned fashion designer and doesn’t know shit about shoes.”
“Whatever. I’m still going to hit on Joe next time I see him.”
“How is that any different from every time you see him?” Zach jokes, smirking down at him as he throws another wipe in the trash over Chris’ head.
“Would you stop cleaning for one second? Anyway, I’m hungry.”
“Shocking,” Zach says dryly as he pulls out another wipe and holds it out of Chris’ reach so he can’t snatch it off him.
Chris pushes himself up and grabs his phone, typing out a quick message. “Ok, here we go, ‘Hi Joe. Like carbs? Me too. Wanna bang?’” Chris reads aloud.
“Still straight,” Zach sing-songs from where he’s now wiping down the bed frame.
Chris saves the message to drafts, not having any intention of ever sending it and Zach knows it. It’s just a running joke between them. Chris pretends that he’s settling for the lesser brother and Zach pretends to be annoyed that Chris has a crush on Joe. It works for them but sometimes makes friends and family frown when Chris casually drops into conversation how God hates him because he made the less attractive brother gay.
They spend the evening bickering over Zach’s insistence on cleaning all surfaces and refusing to eat the pasta Chris has made. Chris thinks Zach’s excuse that he’s already had his one carb of the day - a roll at lunch - is pathetic and eats Zach’s portion in front of him, making mmming noises as he eats it slowly. Zach rolls his eyes and ignores him in favour of cleaning the skirting board.
When Chris wakes up the next morning he stretches once before turning over and throwing his arm over Zach’s chest and burying his nose into the glorious chest hair. Except it’s not his chest he throws his arm over but Zach’s thighs and it’s not chest hair, it’s pubic hair and he feels Zach’s cock give a small twitch against his cheek at the sudden attention.
Chris gives a small grumble of confusion before shrugging and nuzzling his nose against Zach’s soft cock, giving it a small kiss.
“Chris,” Zach says, voice hard. Chris feels Zach’s hand wrap around his jaw and pull his face away from his crotch.
“Wassit?” Chris asks, squinting up at Zach as he yawns loudly.
“I’m going to have to break up with you,” Zach says, voice even and measured.
Chris just snorts and sits up, rubbing at his eyes before peering at Zach, who’s sitting up against the headboard, his laptop open next to him.
“What have I done now?” Chris asks, voice deep and thick from sleep.
Zach picks up the laptop and hands it wordlessly to Chris before getting out of bed and walking over to the tiny en-suite bathroom and slamming the door behind him. Chris frowns and is fully expecting some rumours that he’s cheating or something equally ridiculous when he sees the pictures. He’s rarely papped because he’s only really known through Zach and has no celebrity status of his own even after the couple of major modelling campaigns he's done, but these photos have garnered attention for some reason.
There’s only three photos and they’re all of him coming out of the 7-eleven around the corner. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt, a large grey cardigan and black jeans. It’s not a fashion disaster and he’s not with anyone so he’s unsure why Zach is getting so upset. Then he sees the yellow Crocs he’s wearing in the pictures. Chris glances at the shut en-suite bathroom and wonders whether Zach’s hyperventilating in there.
Chris scrolls down the page to the comment section and there’s the odd comment saying ‘Zach’s boyfriend is so hot’ but the vast majority of people commenting are saying stupid crap like ‘why would Zach Quinto allow his boyfriend to wear crocs?’ Chris snorts derisively at the idea he needs to start getting approval over everything he wears from his boyfriend because of his occupation. Chris reads a few more, some helping his self-esteem and others crushing it painfully, before snapping the lid shut and pushing himself to his feet and wandering over to the door.
“Zachy, come out. They’re just shoes. I think you need to sort your priorities out.”
The door flies open and he comes face to face with Zach, who is in full rage mood if his puffed out cheeks are anything to go by.
“I hate those fucking shoes. Throw them away or we’re done.”
Chris knows he isn’t serious. At least, he hopes he’s not serious. “Africa. Read up about it. A fashion designer’s boyfriend wearing Crocs is not the end of the world or even proper news.”
“And yet it’s got attention by the media.”
“You’re overreacting. And you know how often I overreact and act like some teenager? If I’m telling you’re overreacting, you really, really are. So, let’s go get breakfast and stop by your place to see if Harold has built the means by which I die yet.”
Zach grabs Chris’ shoulders and stares at him. “I love you so damn much but the Crocs are testing me. Please, for me, get rid of them. I’ll buy you some proper shoes that are just as comfortable I promise.”
“The shoes you buy are expensive and feel like a python slowly squeezing you to death through your feet. It’s not a good time.”
Zach cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Chris like he’s trying to consider a new position to get what he wants out of Chris. Over the course of their relationship, Zach has got better and better at working out the perfect strategy to get his way. Sometimes he yells at Chris, sometimes it’s some A+ passive aggressiveness and then every now and again Zach will throw bribery in his direction.
“I will buy you a car.”
Bribery it is, Chris thinks with a smirk. “You’re seriously going to buy me a car if I throw out my Crocs?”
“Yeah. I’ll even buy you that Jeep Wrangler thing you keep saying you want so you can drive around pretending you’re in Jurassic Park. That’s how much I hate those shoes and love you.”
Chris judges himself silently that he’s seriously considering taking Zach’s offer. Normally when Zach bribes him with something, Chris gives in and tells Zach not to bother buying him whatever he’s offered because Chris really hates taking things from Zach. But Chris really wants that Jeep because he really loves Jurassic Park.
“Fine. Buy me a car and I’ll throw out all my pairs of Crocs.”
Zach’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “You have more than one pair? It’s like you’re a stranger.”
Chris rolls his eyes and walks across the room to collapse back on the bed. “They’re just shoes.”
“They are ugly, cheaply made shoes that look like shit on everyone.”
“Tell me what you really think,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes.
Zach walks over to the bed and lies down next to Chris. He makes his brown eyes all wide and doe-eyed and starts stroking Chris’ hair. Chris calls him all sorts of names in his head because the bastard knows he can’t resist Zach when he’s being all affectionate and adorable.
“Fine.”
Zach rolls on top of him, pinning him to the mattress and starts kissing him slowly and lazily.
“Thank you,” Zach whispers against his ear. “Now agree to move in with me so I never have to be in this hell hole ever again.”
“Nope. Not yet.”
Zach groans and rests his forehead against Chris’. “Please.”
“No way. This is my place and I like that it’s just mine. It keeps me grounded.”
Zach screws up his face in disapproval, his eyebrows drawing together. “I’ll buy you two Jeep Wranglers and we can race them.”
Chris laughs and shoves Zach off of him.
Chris is almost inside the bathroom when he hears, “I will buy you your own pet Velociraptor if you move in with me.”
…
“So,” Chris says, coming up to Joe with an eyebrow waggle and his hip cocked to one side. “Hear you’re back on the market.”
Joe just smirks around his drink as they stand at a high table in one of Zach favourite bars. It's his favourite because it's high class but out of the way which means he's left alone and not bothered by every wannabe model within a one mile radius. “Zach warned me you’d hit on me.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my American duty if I didn’t. Look, Zach’s great and all but the guy doesn’t appreciate food the way I do. I just wanna share chocolate fondue with someone who doesn't just eat the strawberries. And Joe, a hole's a hole, amiright?”
Joe's smile splits his face and he lazily shakes his head. “Yeah, but then I'd reach around and find a penis.”
“Don't reach around,” Chris says like its obvious. “It'll be great, we can have like three dogs and no cats that glare at us or scratch us in our sleep.”
Joe snorts. “I love Noah but I'd never have my own dog. Like honestly, what is the point in having something that slobbers all over you, leaves hair everywhere and restricts you from going away for long periods of time? Waste of money and I just don't get the appeal. Cats on the other hand, they're not bad.”
Chris’ face scrunches up in disgust. “I just can’t,” Chris says dramatically, putting up his hand and walking away to find Zach. He finds him at the bar getting drinks whilst being chatted up by some scarily thin bartender who is winking so much that Chris wonders if the guy actually has something in his eye.
Chris slides an arm around Zach’s waist and lays his head on his shoulder gently. “Never leave me.”
“Not planning on it,” Zach murmurs back as he uses a pink straw to stir his drink. “You destroy those shoes?”
“Not so much destroy as gave away to charity. I thought you’d be happy they’re going to people less fortunate.”
Zach swings around and looks at him with a spark of complete disbelief. “Chris, it’s nice you think you’re helping but the people they’ll end up with are already unfortunate enough and you’re just making their situation worse.”
“You make me sad. Anyway, where’s my Jeep?”
“In my pants.”
Chris keeps a straight face, flicks his eyes to Zach’s crotch and then back up, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure. And I have Abba in mine.”
“In your dreams.”
Chris smiles brightly and takes the drink Zach offers him from the bar top which has zero alcohol in. “That’d be awesome though.”
“Abba in your pants? I’m a little proud of how gay you’re sounding right now.”
Chris winks and leans forward to kiss Zach’s lips softly. “So, your brother doesn't want a dog with me.”
Zach smirks and his eyes drop to the drink he’s holding like he’s doing his best not to laugh.
Chris face drops. “You told him to say that to me.”
“I knew there's things he could say that would turn you off. Love for cats and hatred for dogs would definitely be a deal breaker for you.”
Chris huffs. “You know me too well, Quinto.” Chris puts his drink down, turns around, spots Zach’s brother and starts jogging over to him. “Wait, Joe, you wanna dance?”
He’s half way to his destination when he feels a strong hand grip his own and pull him roughly back. Chris lets out a small grunt as he finds his body flush against Zach’s, who’s staring at him with dark eyes.
“No more hitting on my brother.”
“You know I’m just kidding around,” Chris says playfully, leaning forward to brush his lips against Zach’s.
“I know. You can dance with me now. I won’t object if you wanna grind your ass against my crotch. Just throwing it out there. As a suggestion.” Zach waggles his eyebrows.
“Nah, I have a better idea.” Chris wraps Zach’s skinny tie around his hand, his fingers curling into a fist, and he turns his back on Zach and pulls him along behind him as he heads to the disabled bathroom with intent. Zach follows obediently and that turns Chris on more than he can say. They pass by Joe who's talking to a very pretty redhead and Chris stops short.
“Last chance to get up on all this, Joe, or I'm stuck with this fucker forever,” Chris says, first indicating his body before pointing at Zach.
Zach rolls his eyes, bats Chris' hand away from his tie and crosses his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, thanks but no thanks, Chris,” Joe says, giving Zach a wink before going back to the girl he was talking to.
“Guess you're stuck with me,” Zach says darkly into Chris' ear.
“I guess,” Chris mumbles sulkily before dragging Zach into the bathroom and blowing his mind.
The End