Fic: On the Road
Title: On the Road
Pairing: Chris/Steve
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1040
Summary: No matter how much you like someone, life on the road can always cause tension.
A/N: Written for pippii , happy birthday! I hope you have an awesome day - I love being friends with you.
A/N 2: My first attempt at writing this pairing.
Chris leaned back against the car window, watching the road through the windscreen as Tim McGraw played on the radio. Next to him, Steve was staring straight ahead, eyes on the traffic as he drove, and Chris shook his head when he saw the way Steve’s hands were clenched around the wheel.
“I offered to drive.” And he had; twice at the motel and again at the service station a few miles back.
“It’s fine.”
He shrugged and closed his eyes, listened to the music to try and drown out the tension that he could feel in the van. Long hours on the road and the exhaustion that came from performing every night - in bars, hotels and, on one memorable occasion, in a parking lot - were catching up with the both of them but Steve was refusing to admit that he could do with a break.
“You could at least stay awake, Chris.”
His eyes snapped open, “Well, you could at least admit you’re tired and want to sleep.”
“It’s my turn to drive.”
“I don’t care. You didn’t sleep well, I did. Turn or no turn, I should be the one driving.”
“Fine.” Scowling now, Steve swerved, pulling the can to a stop at the side of the road. “You drive.”
“Fine. I will.” He climbed out of the car, not touching Steve as they crossed paths while they switched places. As he sat down in the driver’s seat he reached across for the radio and turned it up.
“Do you have to do that?”
“If you’re sleeping, I need the music to keep me concentrating on the road. Quit complaining.” He tried not to be too offended when Steve ignored him, turned away and closed his eyes. Life on the road was like that sometimes.
---
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
Chris scowled as Steve pushed him up against the wall, grabbed hold of his shoulders and shoved him back. “He was asking for it, mouthing off about-”
“I don’t care. We don’t - you can’t - what if the guy had called the police? We can’t afford to take time out of the tour to sort out assault charges just because you can’t control your temper.”
“Oh right, because you’ve never punched anyone before. Don’t preach at me, Steve, because we both know you’re not perfect.” He didn’t wait for him to answer, just spun on his heels and walked away. Steve had no right, not after the way he had been acting all day. He headed for the van; there was no way he was sleeping with Steve tonight.
He had his hand on the door, ready to yank it open when Steve’s hand covered his own.
“Don’t be an idiot, Chris. You sleep in there, you’ll have a bad back for the rest of the tour.”
“I sleep in the motel room, I’m liable to punch you.”
“I know.” Steve squeezed his hand, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Or the last.” He turned to look at Steve, “I’m going to see if they have another room. I think - we need some space, okay?”
“Right. Fine.”
He watched as Steve walked away, wondered why he had absolutely had to punch the guy.
---
It felt strange to be in a room by himself. For the rest of the tour, they had paid for a twin and only used one of the beds. Now, the single bed that he was lying in felt strangely spacious. He had already had to get up once to pull on a pair of socks; without Steve’s shared body heat, he had been cold.
This had never happened before; they had never argued quite this much on tour. He figured he shouldn’t be too worried - it was the first tour they had been on while dating and they had been spending even more time that usual together - but it still felt weird, as though, by getting a separate room, he had drawn a line between the two of them.
He could hear Steve moving around in the room next door; the creaking of floorboards under bare feet, the faint sound of a guitar. Smiling, he shifted back on the bed so that he was closer to the wall, tried to work out what Steve was playing. As the notes reached his ears he recognised them almost instantly; Steve had been working on a new song for days and the notes came from the second verse. He heard the music stop, realised that Steve had hit the point where the bridge was meant to be and shook his head; the bridge had been alluding Steve since last week.
Picking up his own guitar, he strummed a few notes and closed his eyes, listening to Steve go over the verse again. When he heard him reach the end, he began to pick out notes on his guitar, trying to find a way to get to the chorus from the verse. Steve’s guitar remained silent and he wondered whether his partner had heard, shrugged and kept on playing anyway, grinning when he found something that worked. He played it through a few times; stopping to rest his head back against the wall and listen when he heard Steve take over.
Carrying his guitar with him, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, crossing the room in quick strides. He locked the door behind him and walked the four paces to the door of Steve’s room, knocked on the door before he had time to talk himself out of it. The music stopped and, a few moments later, the door swung open.
“Seems like we have a bridge.” Steve leaned against the doorframe, lips quirked.
“Yeah, seems like we do. I-”
“How about you go get your stuff, bring it in here?”
“You sure?”
Steve nodded, took a step out of the room and pressed his lips to Chris’. “Very sure. That way, we’ll both manage to get some sleep.”
“We should try the song tomorrow night.” He kissed Steve again, rested his hand on his hip as he pulled away. “See what people think of it.”
“I like that idea. Just, no punching anyone if it goes down badly, yeah?”
“Deal.”