FIC: In Our Bedroom, After The War
Title: In Our Bedroom, After The War
Rating: NC-17, sex and swearing.
Pairing: Keith/Anderson
Word Count: ~1,450
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: Just because they seem to have fallen apart romantically doesn't mean Keith can't still read him like a book. And vice versa
Author’s Note: Angsty. Title from the gorgeous song of the same name by Stars, which heavily inspired this fic.
NOTE! This is not a new fic. It was originally posted at fakenews_fanfic as part of their 2009 Secret Santa exchange. I wanted to archive it here before I totally forgot it existed. I'm rather proud of it. Sorry if anyone got their hopes up?
Keith is mapping out a liturgy’s worth of words on Anderson’s chest with his hands, long fingers dragging up and down, thumbs digging ever-so-slightly into flesh. Words that once made Anderson feel like Keith was setting him up on an altar to worship him, and now he isn’t sure what they’re saying at all.
Anderson is on his back and Keith is inside him, a fit that was once perfect, like that was where Keith was always meant to be, like he belonged there, and there was always a sense of loss and emptiness when he went away. Now, though, it’s more like a friend who you’re glad to see but aren’t all that sad to say goodbye to when they leave.
Anderson doesn’t know when this started. He could blame any number of outside forces, but he can’t recall exactly when they became strangers to one another, when they started picking fights not for the make-up sex but to hurt and spite, when every little thing Keith did started to annoy the hell out of him.
He does know that the only reason they haven’t ended things is because they’re both too goddamn stubborn.
So it came as a bit of surprise when Anderson got home from work only to be greeted at the door with a hungry kiss. Keith had pressed him up against the wall without a word and Anderson had been helpless to stop him.
Mostly because his own hands had grabbed Keith’s shirt and tugged him impossibly closer, like he wanted to crawl inside him, let two become one. Like maybe that was the missing link to fixing whatever was broken with them.
Anderson knows better now. The sex is still sex, but the feelings have changed, the chemistry diluted. This is all physical, raw instinct that’s driving them over the edge.
Keith is keeping his eyes closed as he thrusts slowly, which is yet another indication that things have changed. There’s usually eye contact and lips against skin and a smirk from one that makes the other come completely undone and if it's slow-going, it's only to drive him crazy.
Keith’s hands are still skittering across Anderson’s torso, and it occurs to Anderson that it looks like he’s a blind man reading Braille, searching for answers in his skin.
When Anderson reaches up to touch his arm, Keith freezes mid-thrust and his eyes fly open to meet his own. They stare each other down for a minute, and Anderson just knows that Keith is thinking about the same things he is.
Anderson can see the exact moment Keith finds whatever he was looking for. A look of understanding and determination crosses his face and he resumes pushing himself into Anderson, harder and faster, finally hitting that sweet spot just right, over and over again.
That probably would have brought Anderson to completion by itself, considering it already has him writhing and clutching helplessly at the sheets, but Keith wraps a hand around his cock and tugs, once, twice.
He comes with a gasp and an explosion of white behind his eyelids, and he can feel Keith following moments later. After a few breaths, Keith releases him and pulls away until he’s no longer touching him at all.
Anderson thinks he should feel cold or like he just lost something vitally important, but he doesn’t. Keith should be lying down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and pressing lazy kisses to his shoulder, but he isn’t.
He opens his eyes to find Keith peering at him like he’s never seen him before in his life. And Anderson knows. This is like some fucked up metaphor - Keith isn't just not touching him, he’s letting him go.
A part of Anderson isn’t ready for this. He’s not ready to see Keith just walk away. They had something, dammit, even if they don’t anymore. It shouldn't be this fucking simple.
Then Keith’s eyes soften, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He nods like he’s come to some sort of decision. He removes the condom to toss it in the nearby garbage can, then slips off the bed and goes into the bathroom. Anderson hears running water and a minute later Keith returns to the bed with a damp washcloth.
Anderson watches in silence as Keith gently runs the cloth across his stomach, cleaning off the come before it has a chance to dry. It isn't really necessary, but he also drags it down Anderson’s thighs, as if he’s reluctant to stop touching him, even though he’s not technically doing so.
Finally, he tosses the cloth in the laundry basket and pulls at the blankets until they’re both under them. He’s still not touching him, but Anderson is hyper-aware of something thrumming between them. Not stifling or even uncomfortable, just there.
Anderson’s last thought before he falls asleep is this must be what goodbye feels like.
*****
Anderson slowly drifts back to consciousness, and knows he’s alone even before he opens his eyes. Sure enough, when he pulls himself up to lean back on his elbows, the left side of the bed is empty.
He moves up to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor. He sighs heavily, staring at the closet door in front of him. There's no clamoring coming from the kitchen, he can't smell coffee brewing, he can't hear the TV in the living room. There's a different air to the apartment now, like it knows that Keith is gone and is adjusting to the change. The silence is unnerving.
He knows from experience that living alone isn't like riding a bicycle. He's done it before, so he knows he'll be fine. It will just take awhile to get used to, to learn to balance everything properly again, even if everything feels completely off-kilter now.
His eyes turn to the window to see the usual New York City traffic below, and it actually startles him for a moment before he realizes that Keith's leaving didn't stop the world from turning. To everyone else, this is a perfectly normal day, and a small part of him wants to scream from the rooftop how very wrong they are.
The rest of him doesn't really feel anything at all. Maybe because it was obvious they were building up to this, or maybe it's because he expected them to burn out like a wildfire and not just quietly fade away. For all he knows, maybe one day he'll be in the middle of a broadcast and someone will mention baseball and he'll just break down right there on live television.
With another sigh, he glances at the alarm clock beside the bed, but instead his eyes land on the yellow post-it note stuck on top of it. He picks it up with a frown on his face, knowing it hadn't been there the day before.
Me too.
-- K.O.
The frown turns into a smile, albeit a sad one, before he even realizes it. Trust Keith to say everything he needs to in two little words. Just because they seem to have fallen apart romantically doesn't mean Keith can't still read him like a book. He was a pro at that even before they started dating. Whatever Keith saw in Anderson's eyes the previous night was an exact reflection of how he was feeling himself.
This isn't a fairy tale with a perfect resolution and "The End" written with a flourish in capital letters at the bottom. They'll see each other again. Keith will return for his things and they'll have to decide what to do with the stuff they bought together. They work in the same industry, so they're bound to run into each other at various social gatherings. They have several mutual friends. They were friends before they became something more, and they can be friends again. It might take some time, but they'll figure it out. They always do.
Just then he hears Molly whining and pawing at the door, as if to serve as a reminder that not everything has changed. He still has some errands to run, some research to do. Once again he can do things that, before Keith, had seemed like permanent fixtures in his life. He has vacation time coming up - it's been awhile since he's been to Africa. Travelling and work have been a part of his life forever, but now he can readjust it to fit his own mold, instead of building it around Keith.
It'll be okay, and he'll be fine.
He crumples up the note in his hand and goes off to start his day.
END.
Rating: NC-17, sex and swearing.
Pairing: Keith/Anderson
Word Count: ~1,450
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: Just because they seem to have fallen apart romantically doesn't mean Keith can't still read him like a book. And vice versa
Author’s Note: Angsty. Title from the gorgeous song of the same name by Stars, which heavily inspired this fic.
NOTE! This is not a new fic. It was originally posted at fakenews_fanfic as part of their 2009 Secret Santa exchange. I wanted to archive it here before I totally forgot it existed. I'm rather proud of it. Sorry if anyone got their hopes up?
Keith is mapping out a liturgy’s worth of words on Anderson’s chest with his hands, long fingers dragging up and down, thumbs digging ever-so-slightly into flesh. Words that once made Anderson feel like Keith was setting him up on an altar to worship him, and now he isn’t sure what they’re saying at all.
Anderson is on his back and Keith is inside him, a fit that was once perfect, like that was where Keith was always meant to be, like he belonged there, and there was always a sense of loss and emptiness when he went away. Now, though, it’s more like a friend who you’re glad to see but aren’t all that sad to say goodbye to when they leave.
Anderson doesn’t know when this started. He could blame any number of outside forces, but he can’t recall exactly when they became strangers to one another, when they started picking fights not for the make-up sex but to hurt and spite, when every little thing Keith did started to annoy the hell out of him.
He does know that the only reason they haven’t ended things is because they’re both too goddamn stubborn.
So it came as a bit of surprise when Anderson got home from work only to be greeted at the door with a hungry kiss. Keith had pressed him up against the wall without a word and Anderson had been helpless to stop him.
Mostly because his own hands had grabbed Keith’s shirt and tugged him impossibly closer, like he wanted to crawl inside him, let two become one. Like maybe that was the missing link to fixing whatever was broken with them.
Anderson knows better now. The sex is still sex, but the feelings have changed, the chemistry diluted. This is all physical, raw instinct that’s driving them over the edge.
Keith is keeping his eyes closed as he thrusts slowly, which is yet another indication that things have changed. There’s usually eye contact and lips against skin and a smirk from one that makes the other come completely undone and if it's slow-going, it's only to drive him crazy.
Keith’s hands are still skittering across Anderson’s torso, and it occurs to Anderson that it looks like he’s a blind man reading Braille, searching for answers in his skin.
When Anderson reaches up to touch his arm, Keith freezes mid-thrust and his eyes fly open to meet his own. They stare each other down for a minute, and Anderson just knows that Keith is thinking about the same things he is.
Anderson can see the exact moment Keith finds whatever he was looking for. A look of understanding and determination crosses his face and he resumes pushing himself into Anderson, harder and faster, finally hitting that sweet spot just right, over and over again.
That probably would have brought Anderson to completion by itself, considering it already has him writhing and clutching helplessly at the sheets, but Keith wraps a hand around his cock and tugs, once, twice.
He comes with a gasp and an explosion of white behind his eyelids, and he can feel Keith following moments later. After a few breaths, Keith releases him and pulls away until he’s no longer touching him at all.
Anderson thinks he should feel cold or like he just lost something vitally important, but he doesn’t. Keith should be lying down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and pressing lazy kisses to his shoulder, but he isn’t.
He opens his eyes to find Keith peering at him like he’s never seen him before in his life. And Anderson knows. This is like some fucked up metaphor - Keith isn't just not touching him, he’s letting him go.
A part of Anderson isn’t ready for this. He’s not ready to see Keith just walk away. They had something, dammit, even if they don’t anymore. It shouldn't be this fucking simple.
Then Keith’s eyes soften, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He nods like he’s come to some sort of decision. He removes the condom to toss it in the nearby garbage can, then slips off the bed and goes into the bathroom. Anderson hears running water and a minute later Keith returns to the bed with a damp washcloth.
Anderson watches in silence as Keith gently runs the cloth across his stomach, cleaning off the come before it has a chance to dry. It isn't really necessary, but he also drags it down Anderson’s thighs, as if he’s reluctant to stop touching him, even though he’s not technically doing so.
Finally, he tosses the cloth in the laundry basket and pulls at the blankets until they’re both under them. He’s still not touching him, but Anderson is hyper-aware of something thrumming between them. Not stifling or even uncomfortable, just there.
Anderson’s last thought before he falls asleep is this must be what goodbye feels like.
*****
Anderson slowly drifts back to consciousness, and knows he’s alone even before he opens his eyes. Sure enough, when he pulls himself up to lean back on his elbows, the left side of the bed is empty.
He moves up to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor. He sighs heavily, staring at the closet door in front of him. There's no clamoring coming from the kitchen, he can't smell coffee brewing, he can't hear the TV in the living room. There's a different air to the apartment now, like it knows that Keith is gone and is adjusting to the change. The silence is unnerving.
He knows from experience that living alone isn't like riding a bicycle. He's done it before, so he knows he'll be fine. It will just take awhile to get used to, to learn to balance everything properly again, even if everything feels completely off-kilter now.
His eyes turn to the window to see the usual New York City traffic below, and it actually startles him for a moment before he realizes that Keith's leaving didn't stop the world from turning. To everyone else, this is a perfectly normal day, and a small part of him wants to scream from the rooftop how very wrong they are.
The rest of him doesn't really feel anything at all. Maybe because it was obvious they were building up to this, or maybe it's because he expected them to burn out like a wildfire and not just quietly fade away. For all he knows, maybe one day he'll be in the middle of a broadcast and someone will mention baseball and he'll just break down right there on live television.
With another sigh, he glances at the alarm clock beside the bed, but instead his eyes land on the yellow post-it note stuck on top of it. He picks it up with a frown on his face, knowing it hadn't been there the day before.
Me too.
-- K.O.
The frown turns into a smile, albeit a sad one, before he even realizes it. Trust Keith to say everything he needs to in two little words. Just because they seem to have fallen apart romantically doesn't mean Keith can't still read him like a book. He was a pro at that even before they started dating. Whatever Keith saw in Anderson's eyes the previous night was an exact reflection of how he was feeling himself.
This isn't a fairy tale with a perfect resolution and "The End" written with a flourish in capital letters at the bottom. They'll see each other again. Keith will return for his things and they'll have to decide what to do with the stuff they bought together. They work in the same industry, so they're bound to run into each other at various social gatherings. They have several mutual friends. They were friends before they became something more, and they can be friends again. It might take some time, but they'll figure it out. They always do.
Just then he hears Molly whining and pawing at the door, as if to serve as a reminder that not everything has changed. He still has some errands to run, some research to do. Once again he can do things that, before Keith, had seemed like permanent fixtures in his life. He has vacation time coming up - it's been awhile since he's been to Africa. Travelling and work have been a part of his life forever, but now he can readjust it to fit his own mold, instead of building it around Keith.
It'll be okay, and he'll be fine.
He crumples up the note in his hand and goes off to start his day.
END.