Turn The Lights Down Low - Commentary Edition 7/7
Chris speeds the entire way to Darren's house. The sweat on his palms is making his grip on the steering wheel a little slippery, and he's half-convinced the only thing allowing him to keep control of his car is the fact that he's holding on tight enough his knuckles are turning white.
It's only when he finally gets there that Chris pulls out his phone. "Answer, damnit," he mutters to himself as he waits for Darren to answer. He utters a few choice words when it goes to voice mail and promptly tries again. When, after three more tries, Darren still doesn't pick up, Chris clutches the steering wheel tightly and screams. This whole thing has been so stupid and complicated, right from the start. If Darren had just fucked him when Chris asked him to and left it at that, everything would have been fine. They could have saved themselves months of drama and misunderstandings, and maybe, just maybe, they could have stayed friends.
Even as he says it, he knows it isn't true. Not if Darren told him the truth, and Chris is pretty sure he did. What would he have gained from lying about it? Nothing, really. He'd have had more to gain by keeping quiet.
Chris tries one last time, but as soon as it starts ringing, a thought occurs to him. He feels like an even bigger idiot than he did the last night of the tour. It's the fourth of July, of course he's not answering. He's probably at a party somewhere. Hell, he's probably not even in town.
Chris gets out of the car and walks right up to the gate. There are tall hedges behind most of it, affording the house a comfortable amount of privacy, although the sliding entrance makes it possible to see a little bit. The first thing he notices is that Darren's car is sitting in the driveway. Not the garage, the driveway. Chris cranes his neck a little and spots the flickering images of Harold And Kumar Go To White Castle playing on the TV set through a half-closed window.
"Okay," he mutters to himself. "Car's here, TV's on, he's got to be here." He hits the button for the intercom, but just like the phone, there's no answer. 'What the fuck?' he thinks to himself. 'What he hell is going on?'
Most reasonable people would take this as a sign to leave. Chris is not most people, and right now, he's not sure he's very reasonable either. Lifting one foot into the scrollwork of the iron gate, he hoists himself up, plants his other foot a little higher and vaults himself over it.
(I was very tempted to have him rip his pants while climbing over the fence, but I was worried about making it too over-the-top. I pictured him wearing a suit during all of this, and the image of him engaging in all these shenanigans while wearing it [because he wouldn't be thinking rationally enough to take off his jacket] was funny enough on its own. I hope.)
He lands on the ground without incident, and after quickly brushing off his clothes he heads for the house. Knocking on the door leads to the same result as the phone and intercom; he rolls his eyes for expecting anything else. A quick glance in the window shows that although the TV is on, the sofa is empty, and Chris feels his heart sink. Just as he begins to wonder exactly how long he has until someone sees him prowling and calls the cops, one last idea comes to him.
He sprints from the front of the house to the narrow path that separates it from the detached garage, running into the backyard. When he sees the hammock swinging heavily in the corner, he almost has to laugh. Without hesitation, he launches himself across the yard and throws himself into the hammock on top of Darren's sleeping form.
"What the…" Darren mumbles, swatting in front of his face. "Chris? What are you doing here?"
"Throwing away my chances with the hottest gay man I've ever seen outside of my computer," Chris deadpans. "Hot, smart, and very obviously interested, so if you choose now to tell me you didn't mean any of that stuff you said in the hotel, you should be prepared to suffer the consequences."
"I meant it," Darren says lamely. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know," Chris practically screams. "I don't know a lot of things, but the one thing I do know is that I just behaved like a crazed stalker because you weren't answering your phone, and I couldn't stand having to wait any longer."
"Longer for what?" Darren asks right before Chris answers his question by clamping his lips over Darren's and kissing him so hard that they both forget to breathe. "Oh," he pants once Chris pulls away. "That."
"Yeah," Chris nods. "That. I've tried meeting other people, Darren. You know what I learned? I don't want other people. I want you, damn it. You and all of your crazy, hyper, annoyingly hipster self."
"You think I'm annoying?" Darren asks, clearly confused.
"You never sleep. You're constantly bouncing off of the walls. You can't do anything halfway. You're nice to everyone, whether they deserve it or not. You know more about Disney princesses than most seven-year-old girls. You have horrible taste in socks. So yes, Darren, you are kind of annoying, but I like it because you're you. I even like that thing you do with the bibles, even though my grandmother would probably smack you on your behind if she found out about it." (Chris's grandmother is a minister, isn't she?)
"Really?" Daren grins. "Kinky."
"Oh, god," Chris groans, "are you actually into that kind of thing?"
"Maybe," Darren winks. "Are you?"
(I'm very tempted to let this slide and not admit that this was my own personal wink-wink to 'Made To Be Broken,' but…yeah; it totally is.)
"I wouldn't know," Chris says, "I haven't got a lot of practice with this sort of thing, but what little I have had was kind of amazing."
"Only kind of?" Darren asks, staring up at Chris's lips.
"Shut up and kiss me," Chris whispers, and like a good boy, Darren does.
"Would it be out of line for me to suggest we take this inside?" he asks hopefully, hands firmly wrapped around Chris's hips.
"No," Chris answers after a moment's hesitation, "but I'm not going to say yes, if you do." Darren's face clouds, and Chris grins as he mouths his way up Darren's jaw to his ear. "Last time, we did it your way. This time, we're going to do it mine."
---
Once in the car, they can't stop talking. About why Darren wasn't off at some barbecue (he'd planned on going to one, but fell asleep in the hammock (because he got stoned while watching 'Harold and Kumar,' then decided that the hammock sounded more fun than the couch) and decided against it when Chris had shown up about Lea's last tweet - full of enthusiasm!! for!! her!! new!! project!! - about the sales of Chris's book (through the roof), and Darren's album (same), everything, it seems, except for what's going on between them.
"Darren?" Chris ventures after a lengthy pause.
"Yeah?" Darren responds as he leans back in his seat, sunglasses perched on his nose and bare feet dangling out of the window.
Chris tightens his grip on the steering wheel and takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, and thank you."
"How are those related?" Darren asks, sliding his sunglasses up on top of his head and casting a curious look in Chris's direction.
"They aren't," Chris answers, "and they are."
"Chris?"
"Yes, Darren?"
"That makes no sense, whatsoever."
"Yeah, well," Chris says, pulling a face of mock-annoyance, "if we're going to be in a relationship, it's only fair that we both get to sound ridiculous from time to time."
"So this is a relationship now, is it?" Darren teases. "Gee, I don't know if I'm ready for that level of commitment, I mean-"
"Do you want me to turn this car around right now?" Chris asks. "I could, you know. Yes, I'd drive right through that taco place over there, but that doesn't mean I won't."
"Oh, man," Darren says, turning to look out the window. "Can we, really? Tacos sound really good." (Yes, he has the munchies.)
"Dear god," Chris half-groans, half-laughs. "We've been…whatever we are for less than half an hour, and I can already tell how…whatever it is is going to be."
"Yeah?" Darren asks, reaching up to flick at his earpiece making the shades bounce up and down atop his head. "How's that?"
"For one thing," Chris grins, stealing Darren's glasses and slipping them onto his own face, "I don't think either of us will ever get bored."
---
Twenty minutes and one monster burrito with sour cream and guacamole later, Chris is leading Darren up the stairs and into his bedroom. "It isn't as fancy as the place you took me, but it does have its benefits."
"Like not requiring I'm gone by eleven?" Darren asks.
"Yes, yes," Chris nods. "I promise not to make you leave until at least noon."
"Smart ass," Darren laughs, sliding an arm around Chris's waist and pulling him close.
"I don't know about smart," Chris says, raising one eyebrow, "but you seemed to like it last time."
"I like you," Darren murmurs, tilting Chris's chin down and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
"Okay," Chris breathes against Darren's mouth. "You can stay until twelve thirty."
"Deal," Darren smiles softly then takes Chris's hand to lace their fingers together. "You're forgiven, and you're welcome."
"I thought you didn't know what I meant," Chris whispers, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
"I don't," Darren says, blinking his eyes slowly and nodding his head, "but I've decided to accept it anyway." (Liar. He totally knew what Chris meant. I don't know if I can really put it into words, but trust me - they're completely on the same page with it, and it really does make things okay with them.)
This time, it's Chris who initiates the kiss. He runs the fingers of his free hand down the side of Darren's face, then cups his jaw and dives in to take Darren's lips in his. They're just as soft and warm as ever, but there's a buzz that wasn't there before. It's a feeling of warmth and contentment that starts at Chris's lips and wanders all the way down to his toes. Even if it took him twenty-two years and change to feel it, he's sure it was worth the wait.
---
Once they're on the bed, everything feels a little bit unreal. Their first time had been perfect, but it had also been planned with more precision than most celebrity weddings. Now on their own, with no plan of action beyond trying to get as close as possible without somehow bending the laws of physics, it's a different story. They're both in such a rush that things just keep going wrong. There's the moment when Darren accidentally elbows Chris in the ribs when they both roll in the wrong direction at the same time. There's the time when Chris reaches to brush a curl from Darren's forehead and accidentally pokes him in the eye. There's an incident when Darren rolls too quickly onto Chris and knocks the wind out of him in the process. It's only when Chris yelps in surprise and jerks his leg suddenly enough that Darren almost gets kneed in the crotch that they both fall to their backs and take a deep breath. (It's perfectly normal for even couples with great chemistry to need some time to find their rhythm. Now that they're both in this wholeheartedly and without reservation, I thought it would make sense if they had a few stumbles along the way. No more artifice, remember? They're both real, and both vulnerable in a way they weren't before, and that brings its own obstacles with it.)
"Why is this so hard?" Chris asks, staring at the ceiling.
"It usually isn't," Darren says, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It takes practice, though. Man, my first few times…let's just say I'm glad my exes are all nice people."
"You're not doing much for my confidence levels, Darren," Chris sighs, squeezing back.
"It's okay," Darren says, rolling onto his side and tilting Chris's face toward his own. "Maybe if we both just slow down a little, it'll work itself out."
Chris closes the distance, and this time when he takes Darren into his arms, he tries to focus on how happy he is and how good it feels, not so damn much about what will come next. Instead of trying to decide where he should put his hands, he follows Darren's lead. When Darren cups his cheeks, Chris brings his face closer. When Darren mouths at his neck, he stretches it to offer the best angle. When Darren's hips surge forward and press against his, Chris cups Darren's ass in his hands and pulls him even closer.
"Jesus," Darren gasps, feeling how hard Chris is through his own pants. "Guess we got the awkward part out of the way for now."
"Yeah," Chris sighs before taking Darren's ear between his teeth and giving a little tug. "For now." (There will be more awkward down the road, but they'll get through it well enough.)
Darren tugs at Chris's tie and slips it off with a smirk. "Awfully dressed up. Hope the poor guy was worth it."
"He was," Chris says, tugging Darren's shirt up and over his head. "And yet, I'm here with you."
"Yes, you are," Darren nods, unbuttoning Chris's shirt. "Lucky me."
Bit by bit, the rest of their clothing finds its way to the floor. Chris's pants are in one spot, Darren's shorts in another and their underwear, fittingly enough, tangled together between. There's still the odd moments of 'crap, where do I put that arm / leg / whatever,' but for the most part, it all just works. Darren clearly learned well during their first night; he lavishes so much attention on Chris's sensitive spots that Chris thinks he might just have to be pried off of the ceiling before the night is through. As for Chris, he's having the time of his life discovering Darren's. There's the small of his back for one, and the way he shudders as Chris drags the underside of his lip against the skin is so damn satisfying, Chris can't help but laugh. There are other spots, of course, but the one that surprises them both is, of all things, the palms of Darren's hands.
Chris takes his time with them once he's realized how much potential they carry. He brushes against them with the tip of his nose, covers them with soft, fluttering kisses, and, seeking out what Ashley has told him before is the "love line," traces it with the pointed tip of his tongue. He feels Darren's body begin to tense, and he looks up at him with anticipation. "Darren?" he asks.
"Yeah," Darren rasps, one hand offered to Chris's mouth, the other tangled in his hair.
"I want to taste you somewhere else now," (oh my god, I use 'taste' as a euphemism for blowing a lot - every time I notice something like that, I kind of want to punch myself in the face) he says, voice low with want. Darren mutters a vague obscenity in agreement, and Chris doesn't waste any time before scooting down to the foot of the bed and straddling Darren's legs. He looks down at Darren's cock, so thick and dusky pink, and gently laps at it with the tip of his tongue. He experiments, first tracing every line he can spot - from the ridge just beneath the head to the veins that run along its length - then taking broad, flat strokes with his tongue. Once he feels more or less confident that he knows what Darren likes best, he takes a breath and sinks his mouth over him. It's strange, but good, and he does his best to ease his way into it instead of taking him all at once the way he wants. All too soon, Darren's pushing him off. Chris's mood darkens, wondering if Darren's going to make a habit of stopping things once they start getting good. (Horny!Chris can be a bit of a petulant child. I just picture him borderline pouting and on the verge of whining 'but I waaaaaaant to!!!!!')
"You learn quick," Darren pants, "but if we don't stop this, I'm not going to be able to do what I really want."
"Oh?" Chris asks, feeling half disappointed and half curious. "What's that?"
"To be inside you," Darren answers, pulling Chris up to press a hungry kiss against his mouth.
Chris groans as he rolls over and pulls a box of condoms and bottle of lube from his nightstand, handing both to Darren. "Put them wherever you want," he gasps, bringing their lips just millimeters apart, "just make sure they're close at hand."
Darren grins, then quickly coats two fingers before grabbing Chris by the waist and bringing them both to their knees, facing one another. He reaches behind Chris, stroking lightly down his back with his dry pinkie and index fingers before giving Chris's hip a squeeze and dipping the two slick fingers between the two halves of his ass and teasing them against the tight ring. "Are you ready?" he asks, and when Chris gives only a strangled gasp in response, Darren pressed the first one in. He does his best to be patient, to take his time and try to get Chris off before much more happens, but he can't make himself wait any longer than he already has. Once he's got both fingers working smoothly, he reaches for the condoms and pulls one from the long strip inside. "Turn around," Darren murmurs, looking down to roll the condom over his aching cock.
Chris looks at him with confusion, but Darren just smiles as if to say 'trust me,' so Chris does. He gets onto his hands and knees, wondering why Darren's insisting on doing it this way; it had been so great when they were face to face. (Deliberate throwback to Chris's early insistence that he be ready and waiting for Darren to just come over and get it in and over with. Again, I think way too much about little things that don't really matter.) Even so, he’s not curious enough to bother asking and potentially stopping things before they start, and when Darren pushes into him, he stops caring. All he wants to think about is how good it feels to be so full, and how wonderful it is to have the heat from Darren's body so close to his.
Just as Chris is getting used to it though, Darren takes a firm hold of his hips and pulls Chris down with him as he bends his knees and comes to a sitting position. They're still connected, only now they're joined from knees, where Chris's fit perfectly over Darren's, to shoulder, where Darren's neck is now crooked. Their hips roll slowly together, rocking into one another in a languid rhythm that's only emphasized by the way their upper bodies are pressed against each other. Darren's chest is warm and solid against Chris's back, and when Darren wraps his arms around Chris's waist and whispers into his ear, Chris doesn't think he's ever felt so treasured. (I almost didn't put them in this position because it's the one they used in 'Made To Be Broken,' [though reversed], but it's such an intimate one that I couldn't bear the thought of them using any other in this moment. The perils of having multiple fictional versions of the same two people.)
"You were worth waiting for," Darren's voice says, and because this is Darren, who makes everyone feel like the best version of themselves possible, Chris has no trouble believing that it's true.
"So were you, even if I didn't know it right away," Chris murmurs, craning his head to capture Darren's mouth in a kiss that says everything he wants to say but can't. He shifts his hips just a bit, but it's enough to make everything line up just right, and as the fireworks start going off in the distance, Chris begins to feel a few of his own. (Yay, cheesy Independence Day symbolism! I'll skip the bit about how they're both now finally rid of all their shit and free to just be themselves, only I kind of just said it. Oops.)
---
Chris's bed may not be covered in luxury bedding or have a half-dozen pillows, but it was one of the first things he bought when he left home to work on Glee, and it might be his favorite thing in the house. It's just the right blend of firm and soft, and even now, over three years later, he still remembers the way he'd stretched out in it that first night, running his hand along the empty pillow beside him and wondering if the day would ever come when he'd have someone to share it with. (The reason Chris makes Darren go to his place instead of just running into Darren's? Before the whole mess started, when he'd think about having a boyfriend, he always thought that one of the things he'd most like would be being able to smell said boyfriend on his sheets when he wasn't there.)
He'd been so damn lonely then. No real friends, no one to trust with his secrets, and not willing to admit some things weren't as secret as he hoped. Now, he's friends with the most amazing and talented people he's ever known. People who love and support him in everything he does, and somehow manage to make him feel like both Spider-Man and Peter Parker at once, both in the best possible way. (That was originally Bruce Wayne and Batman, but it was very wisely pointed out to me that that didn't really fit. Chris is totally Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Once that was brought up, I just can't see him as any other superhero.) He's made a name for himself as a force to be reckoned with, and he's done it without sacrificing his integrity or his principles. His family is proud of him. The entire world feels as if it's his for the taking, and he's grabbing for more each and every day.
It's a good feeling, being Chris Colfer. (I'm not one for 'proud mama cries,' but I must admit that I sometimes think words to the effect of 'good on you, Chris. Good on you.')
In the darkened room, he props himself up on one elbow, looks down at Darren's sleeping face, and smiles. He's never felt like he needed a man to make him whole, he still doesn't think that now, but he's got to admit that he's looking forward to finding out how he and Darren will fit into each others' lives from here on out.
Silently, he pulls a book from his nightstand and quickly scribbles something inside. It's not the neatest, since he only has the little bit of light filtering through the window, but he's sure it's good enough.
"Darren?" Chris asks, shaking him gently by one shoulder.
"Chris?" Darren answers blearily. "When you said twelve-thirty, I thought you meant in the afternoon." (It's probably closer to two thirty or three, but now I'm just splitting hairs. Then again - when don't I split hairs?)
"Here," Chris says, handing over a bible much like the one Darren had given him. "It's from the room Ashley and I stayed in the last night of the tour. I knew I'd want to give it to you someday, but I didn't know what I wanted to say until now."
Darren rubs his eyes and squints to read the inscription in the near-dark. "I could never forget you," it reads in Chris's loose handwriting, and Darren runs his finger over the words before snapping the book shut and resting it on the nightstand. "You'll never get the chance," he says, taking Chris's face in his hands and pressing a single kiss deliberately between the eyebrows. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
"You might," Chris grins, wrapping his arms around Darren's neck and slinging one knee over his hip. "I think you just might." As the two of them fall back into one another, a tangle of arms and legs and sweat and skin, a song pops into Chris's head. A song he's dreaded since it first entered his life, but somehow now fills him with a completely different feeling. It's not exactly like hope, but it's something very close. It's a sense of knowing that sometimes, the things that seem the most mortifying are the ones that lead to the best rewards (I believe this very strongly), and somehow, some way, everything works out in the end.
You said you're gonna meet me,
Tonight's the night.
You said you're gonna kiss me,
Tonight's the night,
Well I don't know,
Said I don't know right now
I might love you so.
You say you're gonna beg me,
Turn the lights down low
You said you're gonna make me
Feel all aglow.
Well I don't know,
Well I don't know right now
I might love you so.
I might love you so much.
You may break my heart.
I may want you so much
And all my dream been torn apart.
You say you're gonna love me,
Tonight's the night.
You say you're gonna hold me,
Tonight's the night.
I don't know.
Said I don't know right now.
I might love you so.
Let's take a chance.
Gonna be a great romance
Movin' right now,
Gonna be a great romance
The End
(So I guess that's about it! I freely admit that it was obscenely self-indulgent, but I think we can all use a little of that every now and then. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I figure that even if no one else finds it entertaining, it made my time on the bus to and from work a lot more enjoyable. I wrote this on my commute and over my lunch breaks for a little under a week, plus a few hours scattered here and there while at home. It was kind of nice to have something low-stress that I could just open up whenever and play around with until my available time ran out.
On a different note, I just want to take a minute to say that as critical as I am of everything I do, writing this commentary has given me a new appreciation for this story. It's been translated into Korean. Oohshinyfangirl has told me she is planning on using it for a podfic big bang. Aubrey and Christine both enjoyed it enough to want me to share my prattlings on it. That's kind of cool for something I started writing to convince myself largely to convince myself that I wasn't a complete hack who just happened to hit one lucky break.
Aubreyli has said this is her favorite of the things I've written. Sometimes, I think it might be my own, as well.)
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