WIP Amnesty + Soundtrack: Orbit 50 (Kane RPF, Chris/Steve, 8300 words, Mature)
I never thought the Chris characterization in this story was quite right, but I really liked it as a story, and kept hoping I would go back to it, but since I haven't worked on it in years, it's time to WIP Amnesty it. (Although I reserve the right to cannibalize the world building for parts, because I still love it.) Fair warning that it's unintentionally very D/s-y.
At some point, I started building a playlist for this story, even though the story wasn't finished.
Orbit 50: The Soundtrack
Sex in low-gee was severely overrated. Chris would prefer to be inside the club's half-gee, but it was a small place, and every one of its rooms and corners were occupied. At least Chris knew where the ladder was against the wall in the quarter-gee alley behind the club. He had a hand around one rung, the other around the neck of the guy he was using for a break between sets. The guy had a hand on a rung above Chris's head and one foot tucked under a rung between his legs.
Chris moved the hand on the guy's neck to his ass because as nice as the kissing was, he wanted to get off, and now.
A few moments of grinding hard enough but not so hard he pushed the guy across the alley and Chris got the orgasm he'd been working for. He didn't shove the guy off of him the way he wanted to, but let the guy finish first before he pushed him away just hard enough to get the guy away from him.
"Can I get your com code?" the guy asked.
Chris snapped his sleeves back into order. "No." He missed the days when cheap fucks in an alley knew their place. Nowadays, they all wanted to com him later. Please.
He pushed back into the club where some woman shoved him back up on stage.
"Can I get a beer?" he asked the room at large. Most of the crowd laughed, and someone brought him a beer, and then a shot, and then they were off into their second set.
*
Chris's com beeped, and he pressed the button to answer it.
"CK!"
Chris grinned. "DB!" Dave was on a holo program now - some Earther historical Chris just couldn't get into - and it'd been too long since they'd had a chance to talk.
"Dinner, tonight," Dave said. It was just like him to tell Chris what they were doing instead of asking. "Just you and me, man. Heard there's a new guy at Fujiya doing amazing things with syn-pro." Dave glanced over his shoulder in response to someone coming his way. "Gotta go. Eight o'clock. Don't be late!"
The com went black before Chris could answer, not that he had anything to say other than an agreement, but still. Sometimes Dave's infrequent and abrupt communications were annoying.
Fujiya was the hot new place, so it didn't surprise Chris that Dave wanted to go there, or that Dave had gotten them one of the best tables and a bottle of very expensive Earther wine.
"I heard this place is great," David said while they sipped it. "Alexis said he brings Aly here all the time."
"Aww," Chris said. "Does that make me your date?"
Dave laughed. "You don't have the rack." He leaned back in his chair. "I tell you about this girl I'm dating?"
The wine was fantastic, and Chris took another sip. "Not yet." He poured a second glass and made a give it here gesture. "Tell me."
"She's great." Dave grinned at him. "Amazing rack."
"Of course," Chris said.
"She was in a Girls of Orbit 50 spread." Dave took a sip of his wine, his lips set in a smirk.
Chris shook his head. "Only you, man. So, what, she like you for your fame? Want to be an actress?"
"That's the best part," Dave said, lazily tracing the rim of his wineglass. "She already has her own acting jobs." He shrugged. "Sure, I'll bring her status up, but she's doing okay without me."
Their food arrived, and Chris stopped caring about Dave's new girl as soon as he tasted it. "Are you sure this is syn-pro?" he asked. It was like no syn-pro he'd ever tasted.
"Only thing you can get here." Dave actually moaned around his first bite. "God, this chef is amazing. I totally owe Alexis."
*
Chris's favorite club was a place in District 7. Low lighting, packed dance floor, plenty of willing men. He downed a pair of shots of syn-tequila and headed for the dance floor.
He was restless, and he didn't spend more than half a song with any one guy. He turned away from a guy who was trying to get closer than Chris wanted, and into a guy who just grinned at him and stepped into Chris's space.
He wasn't Chris's usual kind of guy. Chris's usual guy was skinny, pretty, the party boy type. This guy wasn't pretty. His oval-shaped face could've belonged to any of the workers on the Orbit. His hair fell in rough waves to his shoulders. His loose shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, showing off an array of necklaces that were as bountiful as the bracelets on his wrists. And he was a little meatier and softer than Chris's usual hookups. But there was something about the uncomplicated way he smiled at Chris that kept Chris from pushing him away.
The guy's ass, when Chris grabbed it, filled both his hands. Maybe there was something to be said for diverting from his usual type.
Two songs later, the guy's hard cock was rubbing against his own and Chris thought he might come with just a smidgen more stimulation.
The guy leaned close. "You want to get out of here?"
Chris nodded and moved them through the crowd to the door. The sudden silence outside the club nearly deafened him.
"My place is this way," the guy said. He didn't try to hold Chris's hand or make conversation, just led the way to a small pedestrian corridor off one of the main routes. It was a part of Section 7 Chris had never been in before.
The guy palmed open the door and went in first. Chris stepped over the threshold and nearly fell.
"Oh, sorry," the guy said, reaching out to catch Chris. "I'm an Earther. I usually keep the gravity up. It's why I don't mind having such a small place." He turned to the control panel just to the side of the door. "I can turn it down."
Chris caught the guy's hand before he could do anything. "No," he said. "It's fine. It's good." He used the hand to draw the guy back to him. "I haven't fucked in one-gee for a while."
The guy's smile made his already soft face even softer. "The bed's this way."
Chris registered only vague impressions of a small space before the guy was pushing him into a room just barely big enough to hold the bed.
Chris drew his t-shirt over his head and skinned out of his jeans. The guy didn't seem to be in as much of a hurry. He unbuttoned his shirt at a leisurely pace. Despite the higher gravity, his shirt seemed to just drift from his wrists to the ground, and his loose jeans, once unbuttoned, also seemed to fall in slow motion.
He had some muscle definition, but nothing like what Chris's usual hookups did. This wasn't a guy who spent his time doing weights in the gym. Which didn't explain why the only thing Chris wanted to do was touch him.
Chris reached out to run his hand down the guy's chest. It was just as soft as he'd imagined.
The guy tugged on Chris's arm and pulled him down onto the bed. Chris wasn't sure he'd ever been on a bed in one-gee; it sank under their weight the way beds in low-gee never did.
They lay on their sides, facing each other. The guy's tongue teased along the seam of Chris's lips, and Chris opened to him. The guy was an awesome kisser.
In almost no time, the guy had rolled them over so his weight was pressing Chris deeper into the bed, and Chris had his hands full of the guy's ass again. It was even better skin to skin.
The guy stretched away from Chris, making his muscles move against Chris's body. "Can I?" he asked, sliding his hand down Chris's chest.
"Yeah." When the guy moved back a little, Chris rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.
The guy pushed his fingers into Chris with no preliminaries. Chris gasped and pushed back into it. It had been a long time since he'd bottomed for anyone else, and even longer since it'd been any good. But this guy knew what to do with his fingers, and then with his cock.
Chris let his head drop to the bed and pushed his hips up against the guy, and after he came, he collapsed down onto the bed, making the guy work for his orgasm.
But the guy didn't move afterwards. Usually Chris would resent it, but this was nice. He felt warm, safe, protected.
The guy didn't stay there long, but rolled to the side and stretched. After a minute or two, Chris levered himself up off the bed and started gathering up his clothes.
"I have to go," Chris said. "I have to be up early tomorrow."
"If you don't want to stay, just say you don't want to stay," the guy said, lazily stretching. It wasn't the kind of practiced stretch Chris got from his usual hookups. It was something softer and more genuine than that. "You don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not staying," Chris said. He pulled on his clothes and left.
When he stepped from the guy's apartment to the lighter gravity of the corridor, Chris felt like he'd float away. It made the whole thing seem unreal.
*
He was still feeling a little like he wasn't quite anchored to the floor of the orbit two days later when he went to meet Dave and Riley at a small club.
He'd never been there before, and it was smaller and quieter than the kinds of places Dave and Chris usually hung out in, but Riley had promised them a good show.
Riley had a table and a pitcher waiting already, and he poured Chris a glass.
Chris drank half his beer before he asked, "Where's Dave?"
"He's bringing this new girl," Riley said. "So I guess he had to go pick her up."
Chris leaned back in his chair. "I heard about her. One of the Girls of Orbit 50."
Riley almost choked on his beer. "Seriously? Man, how does he pull those chicks?"
"He's on a popular holo," Chris said. "Guess the chicks like that." He tipped his chin toward the door. "Guess that's her."
Dave was leading a busty blonde over to their table. She was wearing heels and Dave still towered over her.
"Hey, guys, this is Jaime." Dave looked positively proud to be introducing her. "This is Chris and Riley."
They all shook hands, and then Dave pulled out a chair for her. It was the kind of thing Chris had seen him do on his holo, but never for anyone in real life. Dave made sure Jaime had a beer before he got himself one, and every time he looked at her, he looked positively besotted.
Chris wasn't sure if it was cute or annoying.
"So tell us about this show that's so good you dragged us all the way out to Sector 15," Dave more or less demanded once everyone had their beer.
"Steve Carlson," Riley said. "He's an Earther singer-songwriter. Wait'll you hear his music. Amazing," he promised.
The lights dimmed then, and a guy came out on stage.
"Earthers and Orbiters," he said, "please welcome to our stage Steve Carlson."
The audience indulged in a little desultory clapping, only Riley and a few other people clapping enthusiastically.
And then Steve Carlson stepped onto the stage, and Chris froze in the act of reaching for his beer. Steve Carlson was the guy from the club, the guy Chris had let take him home and fuck him. And Riley apparently knew him. Fuck. He really didn't like running into his hookups later.
And then the guy reached out to adjust the mike, strummed a chord on the guitar slung across his body, and started to play.
For a solid hour, Chris didn't see or hear anything but Steve. The guy was incredible. He did things with words and music that made Chris's breath catch. Even his beer remained untasted on the table. Riley's brief promise of the show's quality hadn't done it justice.
Steve did his last song, thanked the audience over their enthusiastic applause, and left the stage. The club's lights came back up to their previous dim but not dark level, and the stage lights went out.
Chris gulped at his beer, needing something to wet his throat.
Riley had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "What'd I tell you?"
"Not enough," Dave said with a grin that encompassed Chris's stunned amazement.
"That was wonderful," Jaime said. "Really, amazing." She brushed her hand against Dave's arm. "Thank you for bringing me."
Dave ducked his head under her attentions. "Of course I brought you." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and even from across the table, Chris could tell it was gentle and affectionate. "You're my girl."
She smiled sweetly up at him and reached up to kiss him. That went firmly over the line from cute to annoying.
Chris was still halfway facing the stage area, so he was in the right place to see Steve emerge from a door that must lead to the backstage area. He tracked Steve's progress across the club as he stopped to shake hands and accept compliments. Chris sometimes went around to the front after gigs to get straight from the stage to the bar where someone could buy him a drink, but he recognized Steve's path as a purposeful one, and he wasn't going the right way to be headed to the bar.
Sure enough, Steve stopped when he got to a table. The guy at the table was generically pretty - spiky hair, sharp nose, light dusting of stubble - and he stood up when Steve got there. The guy at the table wrapped his arms around Steve, and kept one of them there. He had a shot waiting, and Steve downed it in one smooth that bared his neck. The guy kept touching him, hands on his shoulders and arms and brushing his chest as they talked and laughed.
"Hey, there's Steve," Riley said, and Chris brought his attention back to his own table. "I'm gonna go say hi, see if I can get him to come over here."
"That guy looks familiar," Dave said, also looking over at Steve and the guy.
Jaime looked too. "He used to be on a soap holo," she said. She had a bright, wide smile. "Bunch of the girls watch it."
Riley hugged Steve and said something to him, and then Steve and the guy were coming back to the table with Riley. Chris turned back to the table so it wouldn't be quite so obvious that he'd been watching.
"This is Steve," Riley announced. "And Jensen. Guys, this is Chris, David, and Jaime." There were hellos and handshakes all around. Chris wasn't sure if that really was a hint of a smirk in Steve's smile when he shook Chris's hand, or if it was all in his imagination.
"Riley says you're an Earther," Jaime said. "What brings you to Orbit 50?"
Steve shrugged easily. "Time for a change, I guess. My parents retired and started traveling, so I thought it was a chance to do something different."
Jensen slung an arm around Steve's shoulders. Chris had to force himself not to stiffen in reaction. "Don't listen to him. He's an amazing chef, and he got a job up here."
Steve smiled softly under the praise, and leaned up to order something from a waitress who stopped by their table.
"A chef?" Jaime asked. "What's that like?"
"Hard on the hands." Steve held his up to prove the point. They were covered in scars Chris had felt without noticing in any detail.
The waitress came back with a tray full of shot glasses.
"This is the best reason to come to Orbit 50," Steve said. He helped the waitress distribute the glasses around the table. "Friend of mine makes this. This is one of the few clubs that serves it." He held up his glass in a toast and then tossed it back.
The drink didn't look like anything special - tan liquor filling a glass - but Chris was willing to try it out, so he tossed his shot back. It burned and then spread warmth all through him and left a taste he could only describe as warm at the back of his throat.
He looked across the table to see Steve watching him.
"Whew," Dave said. "That packs quite a punch."
Steve grinned, his eyes still on Chris. "It's the good stuff. Local invention." He settled back in his chair and looked at someone else. Chris could almost hear the breaking of their eye contact.
"So where are you working?" Jaime asked. "If you're half as good in the kitchen as you are on stage, I want to eat there." Chris might have thought she was flirting, but she had one hand on Dave's thigh and her smile was one of simple friendliness.
Jensen hadn't removed his arm from around Steve's shoulders, and now he tightened it. "Steve's head chef at Fujiya."
"That's you?" Chris burst out. "We were there last week, and that was the best food I've had in years."
"It's just basic cooking principles," Steve said. "Just because you're eating synthetic food doesn't mean it has to taste bad."
"Basic cooking," Dave scoffed. "What you're doing with food is magic."
Steve shook his head. "Not magic, just the kinds of things anyone can learn."
Chris chuckled. "Anyone. Right."
Steve leaned forward and met Chris's eyes again. "Anyone. You'd like cooking."
Chris could feel the burn of anger tingling along his nerves. "You don't know anything about me."
Steve's lips turned up into a smile. "I know enough."
And that was it. Chris pushed himself up from his chair. "I'm out of here. Jaime, it was a pleasure to meet you. You're too good for Dave." He bent over her hand and kissed it. Dave would know he meant it as a respectful gesture, and she seemed charmed by it. "Dave, I'll talk to you later." He patted Dave's shoulder. "See you around," he said in the general direction of Riley, Jensen, and Steve.
Behind him, he could hear Dave starting to say something about him, no doubt explaining that he was just like that. Dave wouldn't mind, and he could smooth it over with Jaime. Chris didn't care what the others thought. Not a bit.
He pulled out his portable com as he walked and dialed a number.
By the time he got home, Clayne was waiting outside his door. Clayne was one of his regular hookups. Chris didn't date, and he certainly didn't do relationships, but sometimes it was nice to be with someone who already knew how he liked to get his dick sucked.
Clayne also knew better than to complain about the heat in Chris's place. Chris avoided bringing people back to his place whenever possible for just that reason. Clayne just shucked his jacket, revealing a thin, tight, short-sleeved t-shirt, and followed Chris across the room to the couch.
Clayne knew not to bother with preliminaries either. He opened Chris's jeans and took Chris's cock into his mouth. Chris sank his hands into Clayne's messy curls and closed his eyes.
Clayne did know exactly how he liked it, and it had Chris coming in nothing flat. Of course, Chris knew how Clayne liked it, too, and he kept his hand in Clayne's hair while he jerked himself off.
"You want anything else?" Clayne asked after a couple of minutes.
"Naw, thanks." Chris let go of Clayne's hair and leaned back into the couch. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Clayne zipping up his pants, pulling on his jacket, and leaving.
It wasn't Chris's best hookup. Despite the orgasm, he still felt empty, restless, unsatisfied. At least he was warm.
*
Chris had a gig the next week, and he was on. He didn't even need his usual kind of break between sets, just a beer in the club's sorry excuse for a green room, shooting shit with his band, and then they were back for a second set.
Halfway through the set, Chris let his gaze wander over the crowd. Steve was at a table by himself, a beer on the table in front of him. Chris refused to let it affect his show, but afterwards, even though he was feeling loose and easy, he went around to the front to get to the bar without having to work the crowd.
Steve was at the bar.
"Dave said you were a musician, so I thought I'd come see you play," he said. He handed Chris a beer he accepted out of habit. He'd never turned down a beer before. Steve clinked the neck of his bottle against Chris's. "Great show."
"Thanks," Chris said. He wanted to move away. He wanted to push Steve back against the bar and take his mouth.
"Christian!" He was saved from having to make any decisions by a shout from down the bar. "Thanks for the beer, man," he said to Steve, and he followed the voice calling his name, away from Steve.
*
Chris moved with the beat, letting the lighter gravity of Mauve's dance floor lift and move him against Anthony. Anthony was another one of his regular hookups, the kind who knew how Chris liked to get fucked.
The music changed to something sultrier, something that called for slinging his arms around Anthony's neck and moving with him, but before he could do it, someone else's bulk pressed up against his back and arms came around his chest.
Anthony threw him a questioning look, and Chris turned his head to see who it was. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he got. The guy pressed up against him was Steve.
Steve smiled at him, and Chris's traitorous heart skipped a beat.
And even if he'd only been with Steve once and he didn't already know exactly how to fuck Chris, when it came down to Anthony versus Steve, he didn't hesitate to give Anthony an apologetic shrug and lean back into Steve.
Chris expected Steve to take Anthony's place, but he didn't. He stayed pressed against Chris's back. He might have liked his quarters at one-gee, but he had no problem using the eighth-gee of the dance floor to his advantage. He was strong enough to hold Chris solidly against him, and adept enough to move them against each other without bumping into anyone else.
But Chris hadn't really come to Mauve to dance, so after another song, he tugged at Steve's hand. Steve didn't let go of him, but he seemed to get the message, and before the end of the song, they were stumbling from the dance floor's eighth-gee into the bar's quarter-gee and then out into the half-gee of the passageway.
They got into one of a line of cabs. Steve punched coordinates into the controls, and the cab whisked them from Mauve to Steve's quarters.
Chris was prepared for the change in gravity this time, and he stepped smoothly over the threshold. Steve stopped inside the door and did something to the control panel; Chris thought for a moment that he'd forgotten that Chris didn't mind the higher gravity, but it didn't change.
Steve's hands slid under the edges of Chris's flannel shirt, then slid up his chest and down his arms as he pushed Chris's shirt to the floor. It sent a wave of heat through Chris. The heat didn't dissipate, and Chris realized it wasn't coming from inside him. Steve had turned up the temperature in his quarters.
Chris joined Steve in his urgency to get their clothes off, and then Steve walked him backward to the bedroom and pushed him back onto the bed. He kept Chris there with a hand against his chest while he reached out for something to slick them with.
He wouldn't let Chris turn over.
"Like this," he said, and he leaned down to kiss Chris. It was an effective distraction, and before Chris knew it, Steve was sliding into him deep and slow.
Chris reached up to Steve, intending to fill his hands with as much of Steve's warm skin as he could. Steve stopped him, pushed his hands down, and held his wrists against the bed.
Chris froze.
"Okay?" Steve asked.
If he'd gone home with Anthony, he'd have been magcuffed to the wall by now. But he knew Anthony, and he trusted Anthony to let him go. It was only Steve's hands, though, not magcuffs, and Chris had gotten impossibly harder in just the few seconds he'd taken to think about it.
"Yeah."
So Steve kept his hands there, and even that would have been enough. But then he shifted and used the whole weight of his body to hold Chris down. The change in angle meant Steve's every thrust rubbed against Chris's prostate.
Chris had no idea what he was saying, only that sounds were coming out of his mouth. He did know that when he twisted his wrists under Steve's hands, Steve pressed them flat again. Chris didn't stop, kept twisting under and against Steve, and Steve kept using his weight and the gravity to press him back into the bed.
Chris's heart sped up with every press of Steve onto him, his breath stuttered with every thrust, and he came so hard he blacked out.
When he came to, it was to find out he'd been out long enough that Steve had cleaned them both up and tucked a blanket around him.
If he'd been at Anthony's, they would have been in the guest room and he'd be alone to calm down and leave when he was ready. But here, Steve was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him.
Chris started to push himself up, and Steve pushed him back down.
"Shhh," Steve said even though Chris hadn't said anything. He was practically petting Chris, his hands stroking over Chris's shoulder and into his hair.
He should get dressed and get out of there. Chris didn't stay. Steve's hands were just as good at this as they were at holding him down, and Chris wanted to just curl himself down into Steve's bed and stay there.
Steve brushed a piece of Chris's hair behind his ear, and then bent down to kiss the patch of skin he'd bared.
"Stay," he invited. "I'll teach you how to make an edible breakfast out of syn-pro."
Chris tensed and pushed Steve away. "I don't date." He pushed himself up and brushed the blanket aside. His clothes were still in the other room.
Steve's hand closed over his wrist, sending a shiver through him that was only half sexual. "It doesn't have to be a date."
Chris jerked his hand out of Steve's grip and stalked out into the main room of Steve's quarters. Steve followed him as far as the doorway between the rooms, and then stayed there.
"Okay then," Steve said. "Come back tomorrow afternoon. I'll teach you how to make something for dinner."
"I don't date," Chris said again. How hard was that to understand?
"But you have friends, right?" Steve prodded.
"Yeah," Chris admitted grudgingly. Of course he had friends.
"So it'll just be one friend teaching another friend to cook."
When Chris turned to look, Steve was leaning in the doorway, boxers on but chest bare, and smiling at him.
"We're not friends."
"Not yet," Steve agreed. He walked across the room, and it wasn't. It wasn't anything special. He wasn't trying to be sexy or strut or anything. He was just a pretty normal looking guy walking across the room.
Chris buttoned his shirt instead of reaching out to put his hands all over Steve. It didn't stop Steve from cupping his cheek with one calloused hand and kissing him, or him from giving in and kissing back.
"Just cooking," Steve said. "I'll be home all afternoon, so just come over whenever."
Chris stepped away from Steve and bent to pull on his boots. "See you around." He let himself out. Christ, what was it about this guy that kept fucking him up?
*
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Chris muttered to himself. He didn't even know what he was doing here. He'd left Steve's the night before determined that that was it. They might run into each other sometimes, but he wasn't hooking up with Steve again, and they weren't going to be friends. But there he was, in front of Steve's door, and that was his hand reaching out to palm the buzzer.
He barely had time to rethink his decision before Steve opened the door.
"Come on in," Steve said, and he stepped away from the door, away from Chris, to let him in.
Chris slid through the door. He stopped just inside and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Come on into the kitchen." The kitchen wasn't separated from the rest of the place by anything more than the counter, but it was almost as big as Steve's bedroom and definitely bigger than the living room. Chris hadn't noticed it the other two times he'd been there.
"Put this on." Steve tossed a bundle of cloth at Chris. He shook it out to find it was an apron. Steve was putting one on too, so Chris pulled it over his head and tied the ties in the back.
"What are we making?"
Steve pulled a variety of things out of a cold cupboard. "Soup."
"Soup?" Not exactly what Chris was expecting.
"It's a good thing to learn on." A giant pot joined the stuff on the counter. "You don't have to be quite as precise with your knifework as you would with something fancier."
Steve walked him through washing the vegetables that needed to be washed and peeling the vegetables that needed to peeled.
"This is a knife," he said after everything else was arranged to his satisfaction.
"I've seen a knife before." Chris might not have any experience with cooking, but he wasn't a complete idiot.
"I'm sure you've never seen a knife like this. This is an eight-inch Kramer chef's knife. Handmade. Hand sharpened."
Chris had no idea what he was talking about.
"It's a really nice knife," Steve translated. "And very sharp, so be careful."
Chris glared at him. "I'm not a kid. I think I can handle using a knife."
Steve glared right back. "Even I've cut myself on this knife. Be careful."
"All right, I'll be careful," Chris agreed, if only to get Steve to move on.
Steve showed him how to hold the knife so he would be able to best use it without cutting himself. He chopped half a carrot to show Chris what to do, and then let him do the rest of the carrots and celery himself.
It didn't take long for Chris to get into a rhythm. His pieces became more even. It was kind of like guitar, where everything got smoother and easier after he'd been doing it for a while. By the time he reached the last celery stalk, he'd even forgotten where he was and who with, and it was a shock to set down the knife and look up to see Steve smiling at him.
"Everything goes in the pot," Steve said. He helped Chris scoop everything up into the giant pot, and then he showed him what to do with onions and then the synpro.
"Now what?" Chris asked when there wasn't anything else to cut up.
"Now we cover the whole thing with water," Steve said, filling the pot almost to the top. "Salt and pepper." He handed a salt shaker and a pepper grinder to Chris. "I just eyeball it until it looks right." His hand at the base of Chris's spine made Chris shudder. He forced himself still. That wasn't what this was about.
His voice was steady when he asked, "That good?"
"Sure," Steve shrugged. "We'll taste it later, see if it needs anything else." He pulled a long spoon out of a cup of utensils and stirred the whole pot before moving it to the stove.
Chris tried not to notice the way the muscles of Steve's arms stood out as he lifted the pot.
"Turn it on medium," Steve said, doing just that, "and then we let it cook for a couple of hours."
Chris looked up at Steve. "A couple of hours?"
"I have some ideas of what we can do," Steve said. Something of Chris's alarm must have shown on his face because Steve laughed. "Not that," he said. "I have an extra guitar."
They left their aprons in the kitchen and spent a couple of hours with guitars. Chris found himself enjoying it in spite of himself. Steve went into the kitchen to stir the soup, or sent Chris to do it, a couple of times.
Chris looked up from playing one of his favorite covers to find Steve watching him consideringly.
"I have some bread to go with the soup," Steve said, "or you can learn to make biscuits."
Chris didn't even have to think about it. "Biscuits."
The smile that spread across Steve's face did something to Chris's insides and reminded him why he'd gone home with Steve in the first place.
"I thought so."
Biscuits didn't have quite the same rhythmic quality as chopping vegetables for the soup, but it required more concentration, which made it seem like more of a triumph when they came out of the oven looking like biscuits should.
Steve had Chris sit down at the table while he dished up their soup and got them each a beer.
Actually eating the food they'd cooked felt suspiciously like a date, but Chris was enjoying himself too much to care.
Steve gave him half the leftovers with instructions for what to do if he wanted to freeze them.
"You cooked. You get the food. Besides," he added with a grin, "those are my containers. Now you have to come back."
Chris laughed. "See you, man." He'd been at Steve's for so long that the step from Steve's quarters into the half-gee passageway caught him by surprise.
*
Steve commed Chris a couple of days later. Chris wondered how Steve got his code, but didn't ask.
"How would you like to learn how to make my signature sour honey synpro?"
"Aren't you afraid I'll never come back to your restaurant if you teach me to make your recipes?" Chris asked.
Steve laughed. "I won't teach you everything. Gotta keep you coming back."
Chris had his com on voice only so Steve couldn't see him, but it meant he couldn't see Steve either. He could only imagine the way Steve would be looking at him. It didn't make the flutter in his stomach subside even a little bit.
A few days later, Steve taught him to make fettuccine alfredo using synmilk and syncheese. Then it was three different kinds of salad, cashew and broccoli stir fry, synpro fajitas, lasagna, synpro masala.
*
Chris almost protested when Dave said to meet him at Fujiya again, but their food really was good.
Dave finally revealed the real reason he'd invited Chris out after the waiter brought their food. "Heard you haven't been seen anywhere in a while."
Chris's synpro curry - and he was definitely getting Steve to teach him that one - caught in his throat. He gulped at his water.
Dave, the traitorous bastard, kept eating calmly while Chris tried to figure out where to start.
"I hooked up with Steve," he finally blurted out.
Dave's eyebrows drew together the way they did when he was confused or thinking hard. "The guy Riley took us to see?"
"Yeah." Chris chanced a bite of curry while Dave started laughing at him.
"He's not exactly your usual type." Dave's guffawing had settled down into a smirk. "You must have really liked his singing."
"No," Chris said. "Before that." He grimaced. "And after that too. And then."
"And then what?" Dave prompted.
"He's been teaching me to cook."
Dave's eyes were still glittering with laughter, but his voice was calm. "And?"
"And we've been playing music."
"And?"
Chris could feel the corners of his mouth tugging down. "And nothing. That's it."
"And you want to hook up with him again." Dave had stopped laughing at him, at least.
"Yes!" Chris grimaced. "No."
"Oh, Christ," Dave said, laughing again. "You want to date him."
Chris could feel the blush spreading over his cheeks. "It's not funny," he muttered into his wine glass. He waited for Dave to stop laughing before he said, "It feels like dating already."
"Except you don't get laid," Dave supplied.
Chris's mouth was still twisted into something that felt unfamiliar. He thought it might be disappointment.
"This might sound crazy," Dave said, pointing his fork at Chris, "but you could tell him you want to date."
"I don't date."
"And you told him that." Dave sighed and shook his head. "It might be good for you. Change up your lyrics a little."
And that was something else. "I think it already did."
And that got a sly smile out of Dave. "Well, good. I've been telling you you should do this." He had, too, for years.
The subject should have made Chris lose interest in the curry, but it was still perfect, and he focused on that instead of Dave. Dave was a good enough friend to let him get away with it, at least for a little while. Then he kicked Chris's shin beneath the table, and he had a smile with a hint of warning in it on his face when Chris looked up to yell at him for it.
Chris followed the direction of Dave's smile and turned to look over his shoulder. He had no control over the smile that spread over his face when he saw Steve making his way toward them.
Steve squeezed Chris's shoulder and then reached across the table to shake Dave's hand. "I heard there was a big holo star in the house. Thought I'd come see who it was."
Dave laughed. "Well, my compliments to the chef. You make the best food on the Orbit."
"Thank you," Steve said. "You'll have to get Chris to cook for you sometime. He's getting pretty good."
"That's right," Dave said. "You said he'd like it." Chris couldn't tell if Dace really hadn't remembered it until now.
"And I was right, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, yeah." Even though Chris's agreement was grudging, he couldn't stop smiling. "Will you teach me how to make this?" Steve's hand was on the back of Chris's chair, and his knuckles pressed into Chris's shoulder when Chris twisted to look up at him.
"Yeah, of course." Steve smiled down at him. "How about tomorrow? Come over around eleven-thirty and we'll make it for lunch."
Chris nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay." Steve looked over his shoulder. "I'd better get back before my kitchen falls apart. Good to see you again, Dave." Chris had almost forgotten that Dave was even there. Steve squeezed his shoulder again. Chris forced himself to turn around and not watch Steve's ass as he walked away.
"I don't think I've ever seen you with someone you actually liked before." Dave had stopped laughing at him at least.
Steve sent them desserts on the house - mango and coconut ice cream to go with Chris's curry and apple pie to go with Dave's synpro and potatoes.
*
Chris was used to the heavier gravity of Steve's quarters by now, and he stepped smoothly over the threshold. Steve had taken to keeping his quarters warm when Chris was there, too, so Chris hung his flannel on a hook inside the door before following Steve into the kitchen. The heat made Chris more comfortable, and as an added bonus, it meant Steve tended to wear shirts with short or no sleeves. Years of cooking and playing guitar had given him really nice arms. Chris regretted not having taken the time to lick across the lines of Steve's tattoos when they'd hooked up.
Steve already had pans, seasonings, and other things that didn't need cold storage laid out on the counters. He started pulling other things out of the cold cupboard sa he said, "There are a bunch of different kinds of curry."
Chris took the block of synpro out of his hands and set it on the counter. Steve looked at him quizzically, and Chris leaned in and pressed their lips together. He hadn't known how much it was winding him up not to kiss Steve until they were kissing again and everything in Chris just. Settled.
He made a noise embarrassingly like a whimper when Steve stopped kissing him.
"You said you don't date." Steve's fingers were soft on Chris's face.
"I want to," Chris confessed. Somehow, without noticing it, he'd grabbed onto Steve while they were kissing. Steve was just looking at him now, and Chris loosened his grip.
"Hey, no," Steve said, and he pulled Chris close, so their foreheads were resting together. "I want that too, okay?" Then Steve was kissing him again, and little sparks were going off all over Chris's body.
Steve pulled away before Chris was really ready for him to.
"Here." Steve handed him a knife. "Slice the carrots."
*
"So if you're dating now, why are you still so grouchy?" Dave had invited himself over for dinner. Chris had lasagna in the oven, and he was tearing up lettuce for a salad.
"We're taking it slow," Chris ground out.
"So you're still not getting laid," Dave guessed.
"No." They made out, and Steve touched him a lot more when they were cooking or playing guitar, but they'd yet to get past second base.
Dave just laughed. "Only you would finally decide to date and end up with a gentleman for a boyfriend."
Chris glared at him. "And what about you?"
"I'm getting laid," Dave smirked. Then his face turned into something positively adoring. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Chris smiled and said, "That's great, man," but it somehow made things worse.
*
Chris finally asked himself, "What are you waiting for?" and the next time they were making out, he said, "Fuck me, please, or let me suck you off. Something, anything." If it weren't for the fact that Steve was hard against his thigh, he'd feel a lot more embarrassed about begging. "Please."
"Jesus, Chris," Steve said. "I didn't want you to think this is just-"
"I don't," Chris rushed to say. "You taught me to cook and we're writing music."
"All right, all right." Steve's arms tightened around him. They didn't make it off the couch, or even out of their clothes, because neither one of them could let go long enough to do anything about it.
*
They went to Mauve, late one night after Steve got off work, both of them burning off energy. There was a guy who, every time they went to the bar for a drink, hit on Steve. The first three times, Steve just pointed at Chris and turned him down. The fourth time, Chris stepped between them and pushed Steve back.
"We're getting out of here." He could feel the tension in the tight set of his shoulders, the hard line of his mouth. Steve didn't stop Chris from dragging him out of the club and into a cab, or from gripping Steve's hand tight in the cab.
Steve didn't stop him when he shoved Steve through the door of his quarters, both of them stumbling with the change in gravity. Chris kept going, pushing Steve into the bedroom, stripping him, and pushing him down onto the bed.
Steve didn't stop him when he reached for the lube, or when he slid a finger into him, or when he replaced fingers with cock.
Only afterwards did Chris realize, shit, he hadn't asked.
"What?" Steve asked when Chris tensed against him.
"You don't mind?" Chris held himself up, keeping his weight off of Steve.
Steve laughed. "You're kidding, right?" He reached up and pulled Chris down. "Every guy in there wanted you, and you came home with me." He grabbed at one of Chris's hands and put it on his soft and sticky cock. "Does that feel like I mind?"
Chris shook his head against Steve's shoulder. "No."
"I didn't," Steve promised. "I didn't," he said again, murmuring into Chris's ear.
*
Steve took him to a place he knew that was somewhat improbably edged up against the orbit walls. The place itself was something like a park, or a courtyard, at least, with large platforms around a fountain. The top of the platforms were even with Chris's shoulders, and there were steps up to them from the center of the courtyard.
Steve spread a blanket out on the one closest to the orbit wall and unpacked the picnic he'd insisted on making alone. They lounged and ate, comfortable enough with each other now that conversation was easy and familiar.
After they ate, Chris moved over to sit on the edge of the platform. He could hear Steve packing up the remains of their dinner behind him. After those noises stopped, Steve settled in against him, his chest warm and solid against Chris's back, his legs bracketing Chris's on either side, his chin resting soft on Chris's shoulder.
They were in just the right place on the orbit to be looking out at Earth.
"You ever been to Earth?" Steve asked after a while.
"Once. For a movie. They wanted an authentic Earth setting."
Steve made an inquisitive noise, and Chris tipped his head back against Steve's shoulder.
"It was really open." Chris struggled to find the words for what he meant. "Here there are walls between us and space. Down there, there's just nothing."
Chris could feel the vibrations of Steve's low chuckle echo through his body. "The Earth's been there for billions of years." His arms came around Chris, and his hands settled, one on Chris's stomach, the other high across his chest. "I don't think it's in much damage of losing its atmosphere."
"Mmm." Steve's fingers were brushing soft sweeps up and down now; combined with the effects of the bottle of wine they'd shared, it was making Chris feel relaxed and a little sleepy. "It was warm, though."
"I bet you liked that." Steve's fingers slipped beneath the edges of Chris's flannel. "Where were you?"
"Austin. In the summer."
Steve laughed outright at that.
"I wore t-shirts the whole time," Chris told him, just so he'd keep laughing.
"I'll bet nowhere's ever been warm enough for you since," Steve finally said when he'd mostly stopped laughing.
"Your bed," Chris tossed back without thinking.
Steve somehow fit himself more perfectly against Chris. "Or yours with me in it?"
Chris still wasn't thinking when he said, "My kitchen's too small."
Only when Steve said, "My place might be big enough for two," did Chris realize the significance of what he'd said, and he stiffened in Steve's arms.
Steve pressed his lips against the back of Chris's neck and didn't move them until Chris had relaxed against him again. "We don't have to talk about this."
*
"Uh, hey, Chris?"
Chris looked up from the table. A lanky black guy shifted from foot to foot next to him. It took him a minute to come up with a name to go with the face.
"Aldis, right?"
The guy grinned at him. It was a nice grin, and his lankiness seemed to be the muscular type. Chris could see why he'd hooked up with the guy.
"So I was wondering if I could buy you a drink." Aldis was back to looking nervous.
Chris shifted toward Steve, just a little. "I've got a drink."
Aldis's smile looked a little more forced. "Okay, well maybe I'll see you around some time."
"Yeah, maybe," Chris said, not meaning it at all.
Aldis was barely out of earshot before Riley let loose with the laughter he'd been half-stifling the whole time. "I swear, Chris, your hookups are getting younger all the time. Remember that guy a couple of years ago? What was his name? The older one who'd just gotten divorced."
"Tim," Dave said. When Chris glanced up, Dave was looking at him and not laughing. Under the table, Steve's hand was warm against his thigh.
"Tim, right." Riley was laughing again. "So Tim's just gotten divorced," he explained to the rest of the table. "And he thinks maybe now's the time to experiment, so he hooks up with Chris, and then eventually decides, after Chris cuts him off, that maybe he does prefer women. I think he's married again." Riley laughed. Chris didn't.
Chris leaned in close to Steve and said, "I haven't- I don't-"
Steve's hand moved from his thigh to the back of his neck. "I know," he said. "I was one of your hookups too."
Chris was hit with a flash of worry about what was going to happen when Steve stopped being so understanding.
"Let's dance."
As they stood, Steve's hand slid all the way down his arm until they were holding hands. Chris didn't look back as they left the table for the dance floor.
*
Dave invited him to a party he was having to celebrate his holo program getting an early pick up for another season.
[I have no idea what else was going to happen in this story. My doc has a note at the top that says Joss is at this party and that Chris would talk to J. August Richards there, but I have no recollection of why or what happens. The end of the story is obviously Chris and Steve moving in together, but I don't think I ever knew how I was going to get from here to there.]
At some point, I started building a playlist for this story, even though the story wasn't finished.
Orbit 50: The Soundtrack
- Pinata Novia - Kane
- Whiskey in Mind - Christian Kane
- See You Again - Miley Cyrus
- Come on Get Higher - Matt Nathanson
- Such Great Heights - The Postal Service
- Real Love - Regina Spektor
- Different Kind of Knight - Kane
- Let Me Go - Christian Kane
- Track 29 - Kane
- Bubbly - Colbie Caillat
Sex in low-gee was severely overrated. Chris would prefer to be inside the club's half-gee, but it was a small place, and every one of its rooms and corners were occupied. At least Chris knew where the ladder was against the wall in the quarter-gee alley behind the club. He had a hand around one rung, the other around the neck of the guy he was using for a break between sets. The guy had a hand on a rung above Chris's head and one foot tucked under a rung between his legs.
Chris moved the hand on the guy's neck to his ass because as nice as the kissing was, he wanted to get off, and now.
A few moments of grinding hard enough but not so hard he pushed the guy across the alley and Chris got the orgasm he'd been working for. He didn't shove the guy off of him the way he wanted to, but let the guy finish first before he pushed him away just hard enough to get the guy away from him.
"Can I get your com code?" the guy asked.
Chris snapped his sleeves back into order. "No." He missed the days when cheap fucks in an alley knew their place. Nowadays, they all wanted to com him later. Please.
He pushed back into the club where some woman shoved him back up on stage.
"Can I get a beer?" he asked the room at large. Most of the crowd laughed, and someone brought him a beer, and then a shot, and then they were off into their second set.
*
Chris's com beeped, and he pressed the button to answer it.
"CK!"
Chris grinned. "DB!" Dave was on a holo program now - some Earther historical Chris just couldn't get into - and it'd been too long since they'd had a chance to talk.
"Dinner, tonight," Dave said. It was just like him to tell Chris what they were doing instead of asking. "Just you and me, man. Heard there's a new guy at Fujiya doing amazing things with syn-pro." Dave glanced over his shoulder in response to someone coming his way. "Gotta go. Eight o'clock. Don't be late!"
The com went black before Chris could answer, not that he had anything to say other than an agreement, but still. Sometimes Dave's infrequent and abrupt communications were annoying.
Fujiya was the hot new place, so it didn't surprise Chris that Dave wanted to go there, or that Dave had gotten them one of the best tables and a bottle of very expensive Earther wine.
"I heard this place is great," David said while they sipped it. "Alexis said he brings Aly here all the time."
"Aww," Chris said. "Does that make me your date?"
Dave laughed. "You don't have the rack." He leaned back in his chair. "I tell you about this girl I'm dating?"
The wine was fantastic, and Chris took another sip. "Not yet." He poured a second glass and made a give it here gesture. "Tell me."
"She's great." Dave grinned at him. "Amazing rack."
"Of course," Chris said.
"She was in a Girls of Orbit 50 spread." Dave took a sip of his wine, his lips set in a smirk.
Chris shook his head. "Only you, man. So, what, she like you for your fame? Want to be an actress?"
"That's the best part," Dave said, lazily tracing the rim of his wineglass. "She already has her own acting jobs." He shrugged. "Sure, I'll bring her status up, but she's doing okay without me."
Their food arrived, and Chris stopped caring about Dave's new girl as soon as he tasted it. "Are you sure this is syn-pro?" he asked. It was like no syn-pro he'd ever tasted.
"Only thing you can get here." Dave actually moaned around his first bite. "God, this chef is amazing. I totally owe Alexis."
*
Chris's favorite club was a place in District 7. Low lighting, packed dance floor, plenty of willing men. He downed a pair of shots of syn-tequila and headed for the dance floor.
He was restless, and he didn't spend more than half a song with any one guy. He turned away from a guy who was trying to get closer than Chris wanted, and into a guy who just grinned at him and stepped into Chris's space.
He wasn't Chris's usual kind of guy. Chris's usual guy was skinny, pretty, the party boy type. This guy wasn't pretty. His oval-shaped face could've belonged to any of the workers on the Orbit. His hair fell in rough waves to his shoulders. His loose shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, showing off an array of necklaces that were as bountiful as the bracelets on his wrists. And he was a little meatier and softer than Chris's usual hookups. But there was something about the uncomplicated way he smiled at Chris that kept Chris from pushing him away.
The guy's ass, when Chris grabbed it, filled both his hands. Maybe there was something to be said for diverting from his usual type.
Two songs later, the guy's hard cock was rubbing against his own and Chris thought he might come with just a smidgen more stimulation.
The guy leaned close. "You want to get out of here?"
Chris nodded and moved them through the crowd to the door. The sudden silence outside the club nearly deafened him.
"My place is this way," the guy said. He didn't try to hold Chris's hand or make conversation, just led the way to a small pedestrian corridor off one of the main routes. It was a part of Section 7 Chris had never been in before.
The guy palmed open the door and went in first. Chris stepped over the threshold and nearly fell.
"Oh, sorry," the guy said, reaching out to catch Chris. "I'm an Earther. I usually keep the gravity up. It's why I don't mind having such a small place." He turned to the control panel just to the side of the door. "I can turn it down."
Chris caught the guy's hand before he could do anything. "No," he said. "It's fine. It's good." He used the hand to draw the guy back to him. "I haven't fucked in one-gee for a while."
The guy's smile made his already soft face even softer. "The bed's this way."
Chris registered only vague impressions of a small space before the guy was pushing him into a room just barely big enough to hold the bed.
Chris drew his t-shirt over his head and skinned out of his jeans. The guy didn't seem to be in as much of a hurry. He unbuttoned his shirt at a leisurely pace. Despite the higher gravity, his shirt seemed to just drift from his wrists to the ground, and his loose jeans, once unbuttoned, also seemed to fall in slow motion.
He had some muscle definition, but nothing like what Chris's usual hookups did. This wasn't a guy who spent his time doing weights in the gym. Which didn't explain why the only thing Chris wanted to do was touch him.
Chris reached out to run his hand down the guy's chest. It was just as soft as he'd imagined.
The guy tugged on Chris's arm and pulled him down onto the bed. Chris wasn't sure he'd ever been on a bed in one-gee; it sank under their weight the way beds in low-gee never did.
They lay on their sides, facing each other. The guy's tongue teased along the seam of Chris's lips, and Chris opened to him. The guy was an awesome kisser.
In almost no time, the guy had rolled them over so his weight was pressing Chris deeper into the bed, and Chris had his hands full of the guy's ass again. It was even better skin to skin.
The guy stretched away from Chris, making his muscles move against Chris's body. "Can I?" he asked, sliding his hand down Chris's chest.
"Yeah." When the guy moved back a little, Chris rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.
The guy pushed his fingers into Chris with no preliminaries. Chris gasped and pushed back into it. It had been a long time since he'd bottomed for anyone else, and even longer since it'd been any good. But this guy knew what to do with his fingers, and then with his cock.
Chris let his head drop to the bed and pushed his hips up against the guy, and after he came, he collapsed down onto the bed, making the guy work for his orgasm.
But the guy didn't move afterwards. Usually Chris would resent it, but this was nice. He felt warm, safe, protected.
The guy didn't stay there long, but rolled to the side and stretched. After a minute or two, Chris levered himself up off the bed and started gathering up his clothes.
"I have to go," Chris said. "I have to be up early tomorrow."
"If you don't want to stay, just say you don't want to stay," the guy said, lazily stretching. It wasn't the kind of practiced stretch Chris got from his usual hookups. It was something softer and more genuine than that. "You don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not staying," Chris said. He pulled on his clothes and left.
When he stepped from the guy's apartment to the lighter gravity of the corridor, Chris felt like he'd float away. It made the whole thing seem unreal.
*
He was still feeling a little like he wasn't quite anchored to the floor of the orbit two days later when he went to meet Dave and Riley at a small club.
He'd never been there before, and it was smaller and quieter than the kinds of places Dave and Chris usually hung out in, but Riley had promised them a good show.
Riley had a table and a pitcher waiting already, and he poured Chris a glass.
Chris drank half his beer before he asked, "Where's Dave?"
"He's bringing this new girl," Riley said. "So I guess he had to go pick her up."
Chris leaned back in his chair. "I heard about her. One of the Girls of Orbit 50."
Riley almost choked on his beer. "Seriously? Man, how does he pull those chicks?"
"He's on a popular holo," Chris said. "Guess the chicks like that." He tipped his chin toward the door. "Guess that's her."
Dave was leading a busty blonde over to their table. She was wearing heels and Dave still towered over her.
"Hey, guys, this is Jaime." Dave looked positively proud to be introducing her. "This is Chris and Riley."
They all shook hands, and then Dave pulled out a chair for her. It was the kind of thing Chris had seen him do on his holo, but never for anyone in real life. Dave made sure Jaime had a beer before he got himself one, and every time he looked at her, he looked positively besotted.
Chris wasn't sure if it was cute or annoying.
"So tell us about this show that's so good you dragged us all the way out to Sector 15," Dave more or less demanded once everyone had their beer.
"Steve Carlson," Riley said. "He's an Earther singer-songwriter. Wait'll you hear his music. Amazing," he promised.
The lights dimmed then, and a guy came out on stage.
"Earthers and Orbiters," he said, "please welcome to our stage Steve Carlson."
The audience indulged in a little desultory clapping, only Riley and a few other people clapping enthusiastically.
And then Steve Carlson stepped onto the stage, and Chris froze in the act of reaching for his beer. Steve Carlson was the guy from the club, the guy Chris had let take him home and fuck him. And Riley apparently knew him. Fuck. He really didn't like running into his hookups later.
And then the guy reached out to adjust the mike, strummed a chord on the guitar slung across his body, and started to play.
For a solid hour, Chris didn't see or hear anything but Steve. The guy was incredible. He did things with words and music that made Chris's breath catch. Even his beer remained untasted on the table. Riley's brief promise of the show's quality hadn't done it justice.
Steve did his last song, thanked the audience over their enthusiastic applause, and left the stage. The club's lights came back up to their previous dim but not dark level, and the stage lights went out.
Chris gulped at his beer, needing something to wet his throat.
Riley had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "What'd I tell you?"
"Not enough," Dave said with a grin that encompassed Chris's stunned amazement.
"That was wonderful," Jaime said. "Really, amazing." She brushed her hand against Dave's arm. "Thank you for bringing me."
Dave ducked his head under her attentions. "Of course I brought you." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and even from across the table, Chris could tell it was gentle and affectionate. "You're my girl."
She smiled sweetly up at him and reached up to kiss him. That went firmly over the line from cute to annoying.
Chris was still halfway facing the stage area, so he was in the right place to see Steve emerge from a door that must lead to the backstage area. He tracked Steve's progress across the club as he stopped to shake hands and accept compliments. Chris sometimes went around to the front after gigs to get straight from the stage to the bar where someone could buy him a drink, but he recognized Steve's path as a purposeful one, and he wasn't going the right way to be headed to the bar.
Sure enough, Steve stopped when he got to a table. The guy at the table was generically pretty - spiky hair, sharp nose, light dusting of stubble - and he stood up when Steve got there. The guy at the table wrapped his arms around Steve, and kept one of them there. He had a shot waiting, and Steve downed it in one smooth that bared his neck. The guy kept touching him, hands on his shoulders and arms and brushing his chest as they talked and laughed.
"Hey, there's Steve," Riley said, and Chris brought his attention back to his own table. "I'm gonna go say hi, see if I can get him to come over here."
"That guy looks familiar," Dave said, also looking over at Steve and the guy.
Jaime looked too. "He used to be on a soap holo," she said. She had a bright, wide smile. "Bunch of the girls watch it."
Riley hugged Steve and said something to him, and then Steve and the guy were coming back to the table with Riley. Chris turned back to the table so it wouldn't be quite so obvious that he'd been watching.
"This is Steve," Riley announced. "And Jensen. Guys, this is Chris, David, and Jaime." There were hellos and handshakes all around. Chris wasn't sure if that really was a hint of a smirk in Steve's smile when he shook Chris's hand, or if it was all in his imagination.
"Riley says you're an Earther," Jaime said. "What brings you to Orbit 50?"
Steve shrugged easily. "Time for a change, I guess. My parents retired and started traveling, so I thought it was a chance to do something different."
Jensen slung an arm around Steve's shoulders. Chris had to force himself not to stiffen in reaction. "Don't listen to him. He's an amazing chef, and he got a job up here."
Steve smiled softly under the praise, and leaned up to order something from a waitress who stopped by their table.
"A chef?" Jaime asked. "What's that like?"
"Hard on the hands." Steve held his up to prove the point. They were covered in scars Chris had felt without noticing in any detail.
The waitress came back with a tray full of shot glasses.
"This is the best reason to come to Orbit 50," Steve said. He helped the waitress distribute the glasses around the table. "Friend of mine makes this. This is one of the few clubs that serves it." He held up his glass in a toast and then tossed it back.
The drink didn't look like anything special - tan liquor filling a glass - but Chris was willing to try it out, so he tossed his shot back. It burned and then spread warmth all through him and left a taste he could only describe as warm at the back of his throat.
He looked across the table to see Steve watching him.
"Whew," Dave said. "That packs quite a punch."
Steve grinned, his eyes still on Chris. "It's the good stuff. Local invention." He settled back in his chair and looked at someone else. Chris could almost hear the breaking of their eye contact.
"So where are you working?" Jaime asked. "If you're half as good in the kitchen as you are on stage, I want to eat there." Chris might have thought she was flirting, but she had one hand on Dave's thigh and her smile was one of simple friendliness.
Jensen hadn't removed his arm from around Steve's shoulders, and now he tightened it. "Steve's head chef at Fujiya."
"That's you?" Chris burst out. "We were there last week, and that was the best food I've had in years."
"It's just basic cooking principles," Steve said. "Just because you're eating synthetic food doesn't mean it has to taste bad."
"Basic cooking," Dave scoffed. "What you're doing with food is magic."
Steve shook his head. "Not magic, just the kinds of things anyone can learn."
Chris chuckled. "Anyone. Right."
Steve leaned forward and met Chris's eyes again. "Anyone. You'd like cooking."
Chris could feel the burn of anger tingling along his nerves. "You don't know anything about me."
Steve's lips turned up into a smile. "I know enough."
And that was it. Chris pushed himself up from his chair. "I'm out of here. Jaime, it was a pleasure to meet you. You're too good for Dave." He bent over her hand and kissed it. Dave would know he meant it as a respectful gesture, and she seemed charmed by it. "Dave, I'll talk to you later." He patted Dave's shoulder. "See you around," he said in the general direction of Riley, Jensen, and Steve.
Behind him, he could hear Dave starting to say something about him, no doubt explaining that he was just like that. Dave wouldn't mind, and he could smooth it over with Jaime. Chris didn't care what the others thought. Not a bit.
He pulled out his portable com as he walked and dialed a number.
By the time he got home, Clayne was waiting outside his door. Clayne was one of his regular hookups. Chris didn't date, and he certainly didn't do relationships, but sometimes it was nice to be with someone who already knew how he liked to get his dick sucked.
Clayne also knew better than to complain about the heat in Chris's place. Chris avoided bringing people back to his place whenever possible for just that reason. Clayne just shucked his jacket, revealing a thin, tight, short-sleeved t-shirt, and followed Chris across the room to the couch.
Clayne knew not to bother with preliminaries either. He opened Chris's jeans and took Chris's cock into his mouth. Chris sank his hands into Clayne's messy curls and closed his eyes.
Clayne did know exactly how he liked it, and it had Chris coming in nothing flat. Of course, Chris knew how Clayne liked it, too, and he kept his hand in Clayne's hair while he jerked himself off.
"You want anything else?" Clayne asked after a couple of minutes.
"Naw, thanks." Chris let go of Clayne's hair and leaned back into the couch. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Clayne zipping up his pants, pulling on his jacket, and leaving.
It wasn't Chris's best hookup. Despite the orgasm, he still felt empty, restless, unsatisfied. At least he was warm.
*
Chris had a gig the next week, and he was on. He didn't even need his usual kind of break between sets, just a beer in the club's sorry excuse for a green room, shooting shit with his band, and then they were back for a second set.
Halfway through the set, Chris let his gaze wander over the crowd. Steve was at a table by himself, a beer on the table in front of him. Chris refused to let it affect his show, but afterwards, even though he was feeling loose and easy, he went around to the front to get to the bar without having to work the crowd.
Steve was at the bar.
"Dave said you were a musician, so I thought I'd come see you play," he said. He handed Chris a beer he accepted out of habit. He'd never turned down a beer before. Steve clinked the neck of his bottle against Chris's. "Great show."
"Thanks," Chris said. He wanted to move away. He wanted to push Steve back against the bar and take his mouth.
"Christian!" He was saved from having to make any decisions by a shout from down the bar. "Thanks for the beer, man," he said to Steve, and he followed the voice calling his name, away from Steve.
*
Chris moved with the beat, letting the lighter gravity of Mauve's dance floor lift and move him against Anthony. Anthony was another one of his regular hookups, the kind who knew how Chris liked to get fucked.
The music changed to something sultrier, something that called for slinging his arms around Anthony's neck and moving with him, but before he could do it, someone else's bulk pressed up against his back and arms came around his chest.
Anthony threw him a questioning look, and Chris turned his head to see who it was. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he got. The guy pressed up against him was Steve.
Steve smiled at him, and Chris's traitorous heart skipped a beat.
And even if he'd only been with Steve once and he didn't already know exactly how to fuck Chris, when it came down to Anthony versus Steve, he didn't hesitate to give Anthony an apologetic shrug and lean back into Steve.
Chris expected Steve to take Anthony's place, but he didn't. He stayed pressed against Chris's back. He might have liked his quarters at one-gee, but he had no problem using the eighth-gee of the dance floor to his advantage. He was strong enough to hold Chris solidly against him, and adept enough to move them against each other without bumping into anyone else.
But Chris hadn't really come to Mauve to dance, so after another song, he tugged at Steve's hand. Steve didn't let go of him, but he seemed to get the message, and before the end of the song, they were stumbling from the dance floor's eighth-gee into the bar's quarter-gee and then out into the half-gee of the passageway.
They got into one of a line of cabs. Steve punched coordinates into the controls, and the cab whisked them from Mauve to Steve's quarters.
Chris was prepared for the change in gravity this time, and he stepped smoothly over the threshold. Steve stopped inside the door and did something to the control panel; Chris thought for a moment that he'd forgotten that Chris didn't mind the higher gravity, but it didn't change.
Steve's hands slid under the edges of Chris's flannel shirt, then slid up his chest and down his arms as he pushed Chris's shirt to the floor. It sent a wave of heat through Chris. The heat didn't dissipate, and Chris realized it wasn't coming from inside him. Steve had turned up the temperature in his quarters.
Chris joined Steve in his urgency to get their clothes off, and then Steve walked him backward to the bedroom and pushed him back onto the bed. He kept Chris there with a hand against his chest while he reached out for something to slick them with.
He wouldn't let Chris turn over.
"Like this," he said, and he leaned down to kiss Chris. It was an effective distraction, and before Chris knew it, Steve was sliding into him deep and slow.
Chris reached up to Steve, intending to fill his hands with as much of Steve's warm skin as he could. Steve stopped him, pushed his hands down, and held his wrists against the bed.
Chris froze.
"Okay?" Steve asked.
If he'd gone home with Anthony, he'd have been magcuffed to the wall by now. But he knew Anthony, and he trusted Anthony to let him go. It was only Steve's hands, though, not magcuffs, and Chris had gotten impossibly harder in just the few seconds he'd taken to think about it.
"Yeah."
So Steve kept his hands there, and even that would have been enough. But then he shifted and used the whole weight of his body to hold Chris down. The change in angle meant Steve's every thrust rubbed against Chris's prostate.
Chris had no idea what he was saying, only that sounds were coming out of his mouth. He did know that when he twisted his wrists under Steve's hands, Steve pressed them flat again. Chris didn't stop, kept twisting under and against Steve, and Steve kept using his weight and the gravity to press him back into the bed.
Chris's heart sped up with every press of Steve onto him, his breath stuttered with every thrust, and he came so hard he blacked out.
When he came to, it was to find out he'd been out long enough that Steve had cleaned them both up and tucked a blanket around him.
If he'd been at Anthony's, they would have been in the guest room and he'd be alone to calm down and leave when he was ready. But here, Steve was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him.
Chris started to push himself up, and Steve pushed him back down.
"Shhh," Steve said even though Chris hadn't said anything. He was practically petting Chris, his hands stroking over Chris's shoulder and into his hair.
He should get dressed and get out of there. Chris didn't stay. Steve's hands were just as good at this as they were at holding him down, and Chris wanted to just curl himself down into Steve's bed and stay there.
Steve brushed a piece of Chris's hair behind his ear, and then bent down to kiss the patch of skin he'd bared.
"Stay," he invited. "I'll teach you how to make an edible breakfast out of syn-pro."
Chris tensed and pushed Steve away. "I don't date." He pushed himself up and brushed the blanket aside. His clothes were still in the other room.
Steve's hand closed over his wrist, sending a shiver through him that was only half sexual. "It doesn't have to be a date."
Chris jerked his hand out of Steve's grip and stalked out into the main room of Steve's quarters. Steve followed him as far as the doorway between the rooms, and then stayed there.
"Okay then," Steve said. "Come back tomorrow afternoon. I'll teach you how to make something for dinner."
"I don't date," Chris said again. How hard was that to understand?
"But you have friends, right?" Steve prodded.
"Yeah," Chris admitted grudgingly. Of course he had friends.
"So it'll just be one friend teaching another friend to cook."
When Chris turned to look, Steve was leaning in the doorway, boxers on but chest bare, and smiling at him.
"We're not friends."
"Not yet," Steve agreed. He walked across the room, and it wasn't. It wasn't anything special. He wasn't trying to be sexy or strut or anything. He was just a pretty normal looking guy walking across the room.
Chris buttoned his shirt instead of reaching out to put his hands all over Steve. It didn't stop Steve from cupping his cheek with one calloused hand and kissing him, or him from giving in and kissing back.
"Just cooking," Steve said. "I'll be home all afternoon, so just come over whenever."
Chris stepped away from Steve and bent to pull on his boots. "See you around." He let himself out. Christ, what was it about this guy that kept fucking him up?
*
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Chris muttered to himself. He didn't even know what he was doing here. He'd left Steve's the night before determined that that was it. They might run into each other sometimes, but he wasn't hooking up with Steve again, and they weren't going to be friends. But there he was, in front of Steve's door, and that was his hand reaching out to palm the buzzer.
He barely had time to rethink his decision before Steve opened the door.
"Come on in," Steve said, and he stepped away from the door, away from Chris, to let him in.
Chris slid through the door. He stopped just inside and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Come on into the kitchen." The kitchen wasn't separated from the rest of the place by anything more than the counter, but it was almost as big as Steve's bedroom and definitely bigger than the living room. Chris hadn't noticed it the other two times he'd been there.
"Put this on." Steve tossed a bundle of cloth at Chris. He shook it out to find it was an apron. Steve was putting one on too, so Chris pulled it over his head and tied the ties in the back.
"What are we making?"
Steve pulled a variety of things out of a cold cupboard. "Soup."
"Soup?" Not exactly what Chris was expecting.
"It's a good thing to learn on." A giant pot joined the stuff on the counter. "You don't have to be quite as precise with your knifework as you would with something fancier."
Steve walked him through washing the vegetables that needed to be washed and peeling the vegetables that needed to peeled.
"This is a knife," he said after everything else was arranged to his satisfaction.
"I've seen a knife before." Chris might not have any experience with cooking, but he wasn't a complete idiot.
"I'm sure you've never seen a knife like this. This is an eight-inch Kramer chef's knife. Handmade. Hand sharpened."
Chris had no idea what he was talking about.
"It's a really nice knife," Steve translated. "And very sharp, so be careful."
Chris glared at him. "I'm not a kid. I think I can handle using a knife."
Steve glared right back. "Even I've cut myself on this knife. Be careful."
"All right, I'll be careful," Chris agreed, if only to get Steve to move on.
Steve showed him how to hold the knife so he would be able to best use it without cutting himself. He chopped half a carrot to show Chris what to do, and then let him do the rest of the carrots and celery himself.
It didn't take long for Chris to get into a rhythm. His pieces became more even. It was kind of like guitar, where everything got smoother and easier after he'd been doing it for a while. By the time he reached the last celery stalk, he'd even forgotten where he was and who with, and it was a shock to set down the knife and look up to see Steve smiling at him.
"Everything goes in the pot," Steve said. He helped Chris scoop everything up into the giant pot, and then he showed him what to do with onions and then the synpro.
"Now what?" Chris asked when there wasn't anything else to cut up.
"Now we cover the whole thing with water," Steve said, filling the pot almost to the top. "Salt and pepper." He handed a salt shaker and a pepper grinder to Chris. "I just eyeball it until it looks right." His hand at the base of Chris's spine made Chris shudder. He forced himself still. That wasn't what this was about.
His voice was steady when he asked, "That good?"
"Sure," Steve shrugged. "We'll taste it later, see if it needs anything else." He pulled a long spoon out of a cup of utensils and stirred the whole pot before moving it to the stove.
Chris tried not to notice the way the muscles of Steve's arms stood out as he lifted the pot.
"Turn it on medium," Steve said, doing just that, "and then we let it cook for a couple of hours."
Chris looked up at Steve. "A couple of hours?"
"I have some ideas of what we can do," Steve said. Something of Chris's alarm must have shown on his face because Steve laughed. "Not that," he said. "I have an extra guitar."
They left their aprons in the kitchen and spent a couple of hours with guitars. Chris found himself enjoying it in spite of himself. Steve went into the kitchen to stir the soup, or sent Chris to do it, a couple of times.
Chris looked up from playing one of his favorite covers to find Steve watching him consideringly.
"I have some bread to go with the soup," Steve said, "or you can learn to make biscuits."
Chris didn't even have to think about it. "Biscuits."
The smile that spread across Steve's face did something to Chris's insides and reminded him why he'd gone home with Steve in the first place.
"I thought so."
Biscuits didn't have quite the same rhythmic quality as chopping vegetables for the soup, but it required more concentration, which made it seem like more of a triumph when they came out of the oven looking like biscuits should.
Steve had Chris sit down at the table while he dished up their soup and got them each a beer.
Actually eating the food they'd cooked felt suspiciously like a date, but Chris was enjoying himself too much to care.
Steve gave him half the leftovers with instructions for what to do if he wanted to freeze them.
"You cooked. You get the food. Besides," he added with a grin, "those are my containers. Now you have to come back."
Chris laughed. "See you, man." He'd been at Steve's for so long that the step from Steve's quarters into the half-gee passageway caught him by surprise.
*
Steve commed Chris a couple of days later. Chris wondered how Steve got his code, but didn't ask.
"How would you like to learn how to make my signature sour honey synpro?"
"Aren't you afraid I'll never come back to your restaurant if you teach me to make your recipes?" Chris asked.
Steve laughed. "I won't teach you everything. Gotta keep you coming back."
Chris had his com on voice only so Steve couldn't see him, but it meant he couldn't see Steve either. He could only imagine the way Steve would be looking at him. It didn't make the flutter in his stomach subside even a little bit.
A few days later, Steve taught him to make fettuccine alfredo using synmilk and syncheese. Then it was three different kinds of salad, cashew and broccoli stir fry, synpro fajitas, lasagna, synpro masala.
*
Chris almost protested when Dave said to meet him at Fujiya again, but their food really was good.
Dave finally revealed the real reason he'd invited Chris out after the waiter brought their food. "Heard you haven't been seen anywhere in a while."
Chris's synpro curry - and he was definitely getting Steve to teach him that one - caught in his throat. He gulped at his water.
Dave, the traitorous bastard, kept eating calmly while Chris tried to figure out where to start.
"I hooked up with Steve," he finally blurted out.
Dave's eyebrows drew together the way they did when he was confused or thinking hard. "The guy Riley took us to see?"
"Yeah." Chris chanced a bite of curry while Dave started laughing at him.
"He's not exactly your usual type." Dave's guffawing had settled down into a smirk. "You must have really liked his singing."
"No," Chris said. "Before that." He grimaced. "And after that too. And then."
"And then what?" Dave prompted.
"He's been teaching me to cook."
Dave's eyes were still glittering with laughter, but his voice was calm. "And?"
"And we've been playing music."
"And?"
Chris could feel the corners of his mouth tugging down. "And nothing. That's it."
"And you want to hook up with him again." Dave had stopped laughing at him, at least.
"Yes!" Chris grimaced. "No."
"Oh, Christ," Dave said, laughing again. "You want to date him."
Chris could feel the blush spreading over his cheeks. "It's not funny," he muttered into his wine glass. He waited for Dave to stop laughing before he said, "It feels like dating already."
"Except you don't get laid," Dave supplied.
Chris's mouth was still twisted into something that felt unfamiliar. He thought it might be disappointment.
"This might sound crazy," Dave said, pointing his fork at Chris, "but you could tell him you want to date."
"I don't date."
"And you told him that." Dave sighed and shook his head. "It might be good for you. Change up your lyrics a little."
And that was something else. "I think it already did."
And that got a sly smile out of Dave. "Well, good. I've been telling you you should do this." He had, too, for years.
The subject should have made Chris lose interest in the curry, but it was still perfect, and he focused on that instead of Dave. Dave was a good enough friend to let him get away with it, at least for a little while. Then he kicked Chris's shin beneath the table, and he had a smile with a hint of warning in it on his face when Chris looked up to yell at him for it.
Chris followed the direction of Dave's smile and turned to look over his shoulder. He had no control over the smile that spread over his face when he saw Steve making his way toward them.
Steve squeezed Chris's shoulder and then reached across the table to shake Dave's hand. "I heard there was a big holo star in the house. Thought I'd come see who it was."
Dave laughed. "Well, my compliments to the chef. You make the best food on the Orbit."
"Thank you," Steve said. "You'll have to get Chris to cook for you sometime. He's getting pretty good."
"That's right," Dave said. "You said he'd like it." Chris couldn't tell if Dace really hadn't remembered it until now.
"And I was right, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, yeah." Even though Chris's agreement was grudging, he couldn't stop smiling. "Will you teach me how to make this?" Steve's hand was on the back of Chris's chair, and his knuckles pressed into Chris's shoulder when Chris twisted to look up at him.
"Yeah, of course." Steve smiled down at him. "How about tomorrow? Come over around eleven-thirty and we'll make it for lunch."
Chris nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay." Steve looked over his shoulder. "I'd better get back before my kitchen falls apart. Good to see you again, Dave." Chris had almost forgotten that Dave was even there. Steve squeezed his shoulder again. Chris forced himself to turn around and not watch Steve's ass as he walked away.
"I don't think I've ever seen you with someone you actually liked before." Dave had stopped laughing at him at least.
Steve sent them desserts on the house - mango and coconut ice cream to go with Chris's curry and apple pie to go with Dave's synpro and potatoes.
*
Chris was used to the heavier gravity of Steve's quarters by now, and he stepped smoothly over the threshold. Steve had taken to keeping his quarters warm when Chris was there, too, so Chris hung his flannel on a hook inside the door before following Steve into the kitchen. The heat made Chris more comfortable, and as an added bonus, it meant Steve tended to wear shirts with short or no sleeves. Years of cooking and playing guitar had given him really nice arms. Chris regretted not having taken the time to lick across the lines of Steve's tattoos when they'd hooked up.
Steve already had pans, seasonings, and other things that didn't need cold storage laid out on the counters. He started pulling other things out of the cold cupboard sa he said, "There are a bunch of different kinds of curry."
Chris took the block of synpro out of his hands and set it on the counter. Steve looked at him quizzically, and Chris leaned in and pressed their lips together. He hadn't known how much it was winding him up not to kiss Steve until they were kissing again and everything in Chris just. Settled.
He made a noise embarrassingly like a whimper when Steve stopped kissing him.
"You said you don't date." Steve's fingers were soft on Chris's face.
"I want to," Chris confessed. Somehow, without noticing it, he'd grabbed onto Steve while they were kissing. Steve was just looking at him now, and Chris loosened his grip.
"Hey, no," Steve said, and he pulled Chris close, so their foreheads were resting together. "I want that too, okay?" Then Steve was kissing him again, and little sparks were going off all over Chris's body.
Steve pulled away before Chris was really ready for him to.
"Here." Steve handed him a knife. "Slice the carrots."
*
"So if you're dating now, why are you still so grouchy?" Dave had invited himself over for dinner. Chris had lasagna in the oven, and he was tearing up lettuce for a salad.
"We're taking it slow," Chris ground out.
"So you're still not getting laid," Dave guessed.
"No." They made out, and Steve touched him a lot more when they were cooking or playing guitar, but they'd yet to get past second base.
Dave just laughed. "Only you would finally decide to date and end up with a gentleman for a boyfriend."
Chris glared at him. "And what about you?"
"I'm getting laid," Dave smirked. Then his face turned into something positively adoring. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Chris smiled and said, "That's great, man," but it somehow made things worse.
*
Chris finally asked himself, "What are you waiting for?" and the next time they were making out, he said, "Fuck me, please, or let me suck you off. Something, anything." If it weren't for the fact that Steve was hard against his thigh, he'd feel a lot more embarrassed about begging. "Please."
"Jesus, Chris," Steve said. "I didn't want you to think this is just-"
"I don't," Chris rushed to say. "You taught me to cook and we're writing music."
"All right, all right." Steve's arms tightened around him. They didn't make it off the couch, or even out of their clothes, because neither one of them could let go long enough to do anything about it.
*
They went to Mauve, late one night after Steve got off work, both of them burning off energy. There was a guy who, every time they went to the bar for a drink, hit on Steve. The first three times, Steve just pointed at Chris and turned him down. The fourth time, Chris stepped between them and pushed Steve back.
"We're getting out of here." He could feel the tension in the tight set of his shoulders, the hard line of his mouth. Steve didn't stop Chris from dragging him out of the club and into a cab, or from gripping Steve's hand tight in the cab.
Steve didn't stop him when he shoved Steve through the door of his quarters, both of them stumbling with the change in gravity. Chris kept going, pushing Steve into the bedroom, stripping him, and pushing him down onto the bed.
Steve didn't stop him when he reached for the lube, or when he slid a finger into him, or when he replaced fingers with cock.
Only afterwards did Chris realize, shit, he hadn't asked.
"What?" Steve asked when Chris tensed against him.
"You don't mind?" Chris held himself up, keeping his weight off of Steve.
Steve laughed. "You're kidding, right?" He reached up and pulled Chris down. "Every guy in there wanted you, and you came home with me." He grabbed at one of Chris's hands and put it on his soft and sticky cock. "Does that feel like I mind?"
Chris shook his head against Steve's shoulder. "No."
"I didn't," Steve promised. "I didn't," he said again, murmuring into Chris's ear.
*
Steve took him to a place he knew that was somewhat improbably edged up against the orbit walls. The place itself was something like a park, or a courtyard, at least, with large platforms around a fountain. The top of the platforms were even with Chris's shoulders, and there were steps up to them from the center of the courtyard.
Steve spread a blanket out on the one closest to the orbit wall and unpacked the picnic he'd insisted on making alone. They lounged and ate, comfortable enough with each other now that conversation was easy and familiar.
After they ate, Chris moved over to sit on the edge of the platform. He could hear Steve packing up the remains of their dinner behind him. After those noises stopped, Steve settled in against him, his chest warm and solid against Chris's back, his legs bracketing Chris's on either side, his chin resting soft on Chris's shoulder.
They were in just the right place on the orbit to be looking out at Earth.
"You ever been to Earth?" Steve asked after a while.
"Once. For a movie. They wanted an authentic Earth setting."
Steve made an inquisitive noise, and Chris tipped his head back against Steve's shoulder.
"It was really open." Chris struggled to find the words for what he meant. "Here there are walls between us and space. Down there, there's just nothing."
Chris could feel the vibrations of Steve's low chuckle echo through his body. "The Earth's been there for billions of years." His arms came around Chris, and his hands settled, one on Chris's stomach, the other high across his chest. "I don't think it's in much damage of losing its atmosphere."
"Mmm." Steve's fingers were brushing soft sweeps up and down now; combined with the effects of the bottle of wine they'd shared, it was making Chris feel relaxed and a little sleepy. "It was warm, though."
"I bet you liked that." Steve's fingers slipped beneath the edges of Chris's flannel. "Where were you?"
"Austin. In the summer."
Steve laughed outright at that.
"I wore t-shirts the whole time," Chris told him, just so he'd keep laughing.
"I'll bet nowhere's ever been warm enough for you since," Steve finally said when he'd mostly stopped laughing.
"Your bed," Chris tossed back without thinking.
Steve somehow fit himself more perfectly against Chris. "Or yours with me in it?"
Chris still wasn't thinking when he said, "My kitchen's too small."
Only when Steve said, "My place might be big enough for two," did Chris realize the significance of what he'd said, and he stiffened in Steve's arms.
Steve pressed his lips against the back of Chris's neck and didn't move them until Chris had relaxed against him again. "We don't have to talk about this."
*
"Uh, hey, Chris?"
Chris looked up from the table. A lanky black guy shifted from foot to foot next to him. It took him a minute to come up with a name to go with the face.
"Aldis, right?"
The guy grinned at him. It was a nice grin, and his lankiness seemed to be the muscular type. Chris could see why he'd hooked up with the guy.
"So I was wondering if I could buy you a drink." Aldis was back to looking nervous.
Chris shifted toward Steve, just a little. "I've got a drink."
Aldis's smile looked a little more forced. "Okay, well maybe I'll see you around some time."
"Yeah, maybe," Chris said, not meaning it at all.
Aldis was barely out of earshot before Riley let loose with the laughter he'd been half-stifling the whole time. "I swear, Chris, your hookups are getting younger all the time. Remember that guy a couple of years ago? What was his name? The older one who'd just gotten divorced."
"Tim," Dave said. When Chris glanced up, Dave was looking at him and not laughing. Under the table, Steve's hand was warm against his thigh.
"Tim, right." Riley was laughing again. "So Tim's just gotten divorced," he explained to the rest of the table. "And he thinks maybe now's the time to experiment, so he hooks up with Chris, and then eventually decides, after Chris cuts him off, that maybe he does prefer women. I think he's married again." Riley laughed. Chris didn't.
Chris leaned in close to Steve and said, "I haven't- I don't-"
Steve's hand moved from his thigh to the back of his neck. "I know," he said. "I was one of your hookups too."
Chris was hit with a flash of worry about what was going to happen when Steve stopped being so understanding.
"Let's dance."
As they stood, Steve's hand slid all the way down his arm until they were holding hands. Chris didn't look back as they left the table for the dance floor.
*
Dave invited him to a party he was having to celebrate his holo program getting an early pick up for another season.
[I have no idea what else was going to happen in this story. My doc has a note at the top that says Joss is at this party and that Chris would talk to J. August Richards there, but I have no recollection of why or what happens. The end of the story is obviously Chris and Steve moving in together, but I don't think I ever knew how I was going to get from here to there.]