(no subject)
Author's/Artist's name: misfitdauphine
Written/Drawn for: karmic_fic
Pairing/Characters: Urbine, past Pinto
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Zach has broken Chris' heart, Karl picks up the pieces
Warnings: A few swear words. Also, since karmic didn't want infidelity, I swear this story takes place in the vague future sort of timeline and I pictured Karl divorced.
Disclaimer:I'm just borrowing them, I'm (sadly) making no profit, and I promise to put them back where I found them when I'm done.
There are points in his life that Chris doesn’t like to remember. Old girlfriends. That one night in college and the accompanying pictures. Kissing Lindsey Lohan. Bottle Shock.
Right now, he’s sitting on his couch, alone in his apartment, the lingering smell of Zach’s cologne hanging in the air even though he’d left over an hour ago. They had been lovers, up until a fight sometime last week, and friends and maybe something more, or maybe that’s just Chris deluding himself into thinking he was the most important thing in Zach’s life. The last of those little items that migrate back and forth between apartments of fuck buddies, Chris’ mind supplies, or maybe they really were boyfriends, is gone. Gone except for that smell.
Christ, he thinks, tugging at the hair on top of his head to inflict the kind of pain he feels he deserves for getting into such a colossal cluster fuck. For getting his heart broken, like a goddamn adolescent.
Night falls outside, and Chris stays on his couch without watching television, reading a book, chain smoking, any of those things he would normally indulge in if he could convince himself to get up and go back to life. He sits so long that his ass is asleep and he can barely see two feet in front of his face in the failing light.
“Chris?” Karl’s voice rings out, the light flips on as the syllable leaves his mouth. “You here?”
Chris manages a grunt, kind of hating himself for all this brooding but kind of figuring ‘fuck it’ because he’s been dumped by Zachary fucking Quinto, who’s gone frolicking off with some pretty, gaunt young thing inside of three days. He’s thought about it long enough now that he realizes he’s made a mistake of epic proportions, believing Zach was as enthralled with him -and in love- as he was.
Karl flops down on the couch next to him. “Zoe mentioned you might need some company tonight.” He pauses, giving Chris enough time to answer even though he rightly assumes there will be none forthcoming. “You wanna talk about it?”
No, Chris thinks, at the same time thinking, yes, desperately, but he doesn’t know what words to say to describe the hurt, the anger, the melancholy running through him.
Karl doesn’t need him to talk, apparently, because he pushes on. “I hear Quinto is planning to move back to New York with… whatever his name is.”
It’s a knife to the throat, knowing how little impact he’s had on Zach’s life. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what he already knows, but he hears himself saying, “Marcus.”
Or maybe it was Marc. Or Mathis. Who the fuck cares?
“Can I do anything?”
Chris is taken by surprise at the sincerity in his voice, not that he expects an ‘I told you so’ like he would from John or Simon or Zoe. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Can you invent a time machine so I can go back and slap some sense into myself?”
Karl’s laugh is melodious and it kind of grates on Chris’ nerves. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“How very disobliging of you,” The blonde muttered. “You could at least help convince me not to make the biggest mistake of my life.
“I’ve made a million mistakes in my life, Chris. I wouldn’t be the same if I hadn’t.”
The younger man doubts that, very highly. He’s always so… Karl.
“You wanna bet?” Karl raises an eyebrow at him. Clearly, what Chris is thinking shows on his face. “You can google me anytime you like. There’s that picture out there of me with my pants ‘round my knees and a feather boa ‘round my neck. Or the one of me swallowing a microphone. The ones of me going through an unfortunate, unwashed, long hair period. The Truth About Demons. Ghost Ship.”
“Ok! I get it.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“And Ghost Ship isn’t that terrible.”
He chuckles, shakes his head at the blonde. “It’s an abomination. I’ve heard of people who switch it on when they want to punish their children. And I won’t even mention some of the things I’ve said in interviews and on camera.”
“You planning on insulting yourself until I feel better?”
“I could, you know.”
He would too. Chris declines with a shake of the head. “Nah. No reason for you to be here all night watching me brood.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” There’s a look on his face, half way between exasperated and fond. It’s a little disconcerting, actually. “The point is, we all make mistakes. So you fell for someone who didn’t have your best interests in mind. Zach was being Zach. He broke your heart, yeah, but you’ll move on and there’ll be a point where you look back and you’re glad that it happened. You’ll learn from it, if you’re smart, make the same mistake a few more times if you aren’t, but you’ll be you.”
“That… makes a bizarre sort of sense.”
“Don’t strain yourself with all that confidence in me,” he teases.
Chris leans forward on his knees, feelings of hurt and betrayal and anger falling back. He has to laugh at himself, a little, for acting the way he is. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“Maybe a little,” Karl grins, “but I promise to love you anyhow.”
Looking back, Chris raises an eyebrow at the choice of words, but the older man is shamelessly staring on. He knows what he said, knows the implications, and Chris feels even more ridiculous for having spent so much time on Zachary Quinto. Karl leans forward and presses their lips together, encouraging him into a kiss and reaching up to tickle his fingers into the little hairs at the base of Chris’ neck.
“You needed to,” he breathes against the blonde’s cheek, leaving humid tendrils floating over his skin, “to learn what you really wanted.”
Chris presses back against those lips, sucks Karl’s tongue into his mouth when it’s offered, ready to crawl into his lap and stay there for time immemorial. They’re panting when he finally relents. “I think I just figured it out.”
Karl grins, lighting up the green in his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”
Written/Drawn for: karmic_fic
Pairing/Characters: Urbine, past Pinto
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Zach has broken Chris' heart, Karl picks up the pieces
Warnings: A few swear words. Also, since karmic didn't want infidelity, I swear this story takes place in the vague future sort of timeline and I pictured Karl divorced.
Disclaimer:I'm just borrowing them, I'm (sadly) making no profit, and I promise to put them back where I found them when I'm done.
There are points in his life that Chris doesn’t like to remember. Old girlfriends. That one night in college and the accompanying pictures. Kissing Lindsey Lohan. Bottle Shock.
Right now, he’s sitting on his couch, alone in his apartment, the lingering smell of Zach’s cologne hanging in the air even though he’d left over an hour ago. They had been lovers, up until a fight sometime last week, and friends and maybe something more, or maybe that’s just Chris deluding himself into thinking he was the most important thing in Zach’s life. The last of those little items that migrate back and forth between apartments of fuck buddies, Chris’ mind supplies, or maybe they really were boyfriends, is gone. Gone except for that smell.
Christ, he thinks, tugging at the hair on top of his head to inflict the kind of pain he feels he deserves for getting into such a colossal cluster fuck. For getting his heart broken, like a goddamn adolescent.
Night falls outside, and Chris stays on his couch without watching television, reading a book, chain smoking, any of those things he would normally indulge in if he could convince himself to get up and go back to life. He sits so long that his ass is asleep and he can barely see two feet in front of his face in the failing light.
“Chris?” Karl’s voice rings out, the light flips on as the syllable leaves his mouth. “You here?”
Chris manages a grunt, kind of hating himself for all this brooding but kind of figuring ‘fuck it’ because he’s been dumped by Zachary fucking Quinto, who’s gone frolicking off with some pretty, gaunt young thing inside of three days. He’s thought about it long enough now that he realizes he’s made a mistake of epic proportions, believing Zach was as enthralled with him -and in love- as he was.
Karl flops down on the couch next to him. “Zoe mentioned you might need some company tonight.” He pauses, giving Chris enough time to answer even though he rightly assumes there will be none forthcoming. “You wanna talk about it?”
No, Chris thinks, at the same time thinking, yes, desperately, but he doesn’t know what words to say to describe the hurt, the anger, the melancholy running through him.
Karl doesn’t need him to talk, apparently, because he pushes on. “I hear Quinto is planning to move back to New York with… whatever his name is.”
It’s a knife to the throat, knowing how little impact he’s had on Zach’s life. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what he already knows, but he hears himself saying, “Marcus.”
Or maybe it was Marc. Or Mathis. Who the fuck cares?
“Can I do anything?”
Chris is taken by surprise at the sincerity in his voice, not that he expects an ‘I told you so’ like he would from John or Simon or Zoe. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Can you invent a time machine so I can go back and slap some sense into myself?”
Karl’s laugh is melodious and it kind of grates on Chris’ nerves. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“How very disobliging of you,” The blonde muttered. “You could at least help convince me not to make the biggest mistake of my life.
“I’ve made a million mistakes in my life, Chris. I wouldn’t be the same if I hadn’t.”
The younger man doubts that, very highly. He’s always so… Karl.
“You wanna bet?” Karl raises an eyebrow at him. Clearly, what Chris is thinking shows on his face. “You can google me anytime you like. There’s that picture out there of me with my pants ‘round my knees and a feather boa ‘round my neck. Or the one of me swallowing a microphone. The ones of me going through an unfortunate, unwashed, long hair period. The Truth About Demons. Ghost Ship.”
“Ok! I get it.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“And Ghost Ship isn’t that terrible.”
He chuckles, shakes his head at the blonde. “It’s an abomination. I’ve heard of people who switch it on when they want to punish their children. And I won’t even mention some of the things I’ve said in interviews and on camera.”
“You planning on insulting yourself until I feel better?”
“I could, you know.”
He would too. Chris declines with a shake of the head. “Nah. No reason for you to be here all night watching me brood.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” There’s a look on his face, half way between exasperated and fond. It’s a little disconcerting, actually. “The point is, we all make mistakes. So you fell for someone who didn’t have your best interests in mind. Zach was being Zach. He broke your heart, yeah, but you’ll move on and there’ll be a point where you look back and you’re glad that it happened. You’ll learn from it, if you’re smart, make the same mistake a few more times if you aren’t, but you’ll be you.”
“That… makes a bizarre sort of sense.”
“Don’t strain yourself with all that confidence in me,” he teases.
Chris leans forward on his knees, feelings of hurt and betrayal and anger falling back. He has to laugh at himself, a little, for acting the way he is. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“Maybe a little,” Karl grins, “but I promise to love you anyhow.”
Looking back, Chris raises an eyebrow at the choice of words, but the older man is shamelessly staring on. He knows what he said, knows the implications, and Chris feels even more ridiculous for having spent so much time on Zachary Quinto. Karl leans forward and presses their lips together, encouraging him into a kiss and reaching up to tickle his fingers into the little hairs at the base of Chris’ neck.
“You needed to,” he breathes against the blonde’s cheek, leaving humid tendrils floating over his skin, “to learn what you really wanted.”
Chris presses back against those lips, sucks Karl’s tongue into his mouth when it’s offered, ready to crawl into his lap and stay there for time immemorial. They’re panting when he finally relents. “I think I just figured it out.”
Karl grins, lighting up the green in his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”