FIC: When There Ain't Enough Of Me To Go Around
Title: When There Ain't Enough Of Me To Go Around
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, h/c, violence
Rating: PG-13
Thanks to: You, for reading this. celtprincess13 for the beta.
Disclaimer: Christian Kane and Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Notes: Written for the hc_bingo prompt Nervous Breakdown and therefore does cover mental health issues
Summary: Sometimes a familiar, caring, face is the last thing you want to see because you know it'll be the one thing that triggers you, the one thing that breaks that fine thread that's keeping everything held in. Especially if you're asked what's wrong.
Christian's eyes narrowed as he got his first look of Steve walking - no, shuffling, through the arrivals gate. Concern clenched his gut as he balled his hands into fists; Steve looked like shit. He was pale with huge dark smudges lining under his eyes. He'd lost weight, his clothes hanging loosely on him. He was dragging his feet, a walking example of a man purely exhausted, his hair hanging lank in his face. And, as he got closer, Christian realised it had definitely been a while since he'd showered and shaved. He sighed and shook his head, pulling Steve into a tight hug and holding on to him. He had no idea what had happened in the two weeks since he last saw Steve but he was damn well determined to get to the root of it. He intended to start with whether or not his lover had been taking his medication, since all signs pointed loudly towards no. Of course, this was Steve so it was never as easy as just asking the man.
Shouldering Steve's backpack, Christian kept up a steady stream of chatter about Leverage, anecdotes from filming, stories about his co-stars, about golf. Steve barely responded, worrying Christian even more. They reached the dark, mostly empty parking garage in no time; Christian easily backed Steve up against the door of his truck and kissed him soundly. Steve's hands fell to Christian's hips and he returned this kiss just as eagerly.
"Hi," he murmured shyly, lifting one hand to run through Christian's hair. "I missed you."
"Missed you too darlin'. Now lets get you home."
Steve grinned genuinely as he threw his bags in the back and climbed in.
The ride back to Christian's apartment was silent. Steve stared unseeing out of the window at the horizon. He was drumming his fingers, shifting position and mumbling just under his breath constantly. Christian tried to concentrate on driving, his eyes flickering between the road and Steve and he grew more and more worried the more time he spent with Steve. Something was definitely wrong and he did not like it at all.
"Home sweet home," Christian smiled, ushering Steve in first. He grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him close, kissing him quickly before grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. "You grab a shower and I'll get us some lunch," he suggested, frowning when Steve shook his head and pulling away.
"I'm not hungry." Steve grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. "You can make yourself something if you want but I've got to... hey," he protested when Christian poked him in the chest, hard.
"When was the last time you ate?" There was a hint of a growl to Christian's voice - enough to un-nerve Steve. "You've lost weight. You look like you ain't eaten in days."
"I'm not hungry, Chris." Steve repeated, meeting Christian's eyes. "I'm eating properly. I'm taking my meds. I'm sleeping ok. I'm fine."
"Don't look like it," Christian argued. "Don't look like you’re eating at all. Not just not eating, either, from the look of you. Don’t look like you’re taking care of yourself at all." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly; losing his temper would do no good at all.
Unfortunately, Steve didn't have such a good reign on his temper, his hands on Christian’s chest, shoving him backwards. "You're not my ma, Christian. I don't need you checking up on me. I'm eating just fine. I'm fine. Just leave me alone!" He turned his back on Christian, starting to pace the length of the room. He was muttering to himself, hands tugging at his hair, voice growing louder as he became more and more agitated. "Course he's not my ma. Not like Sandy cares. She was never a ma, not a proper one. Only ever wanted to be my friend. Mama Kane's more of a ma but I don't need it. I can take care of myself. You're right; I don't need him checking up on me. Don't need him seeing me like this. Oh god what must he think of me. I can hear you, I know, it's awful. Maybe I should just go, I should just grab my things and get out of here, we should, before he realises and no, shut up, shut up. Leave me alone. Shut up!" The last two words were screamed into the room, Steve's hands clutching at the side of his head as he banged his forehead against the wall repeatedly.
Adrenalin coursed through Christian, his body reacting, panicked as he raced across the room and grabbed Steve's shoulders, yanking him backwards to pull him away from the wall. He turned him around to face him, gut clenching at the tears streaking down his pale face, the reddening mark on his forehead and clumps of hair he'd pulled out. "Steve... Steve... Stevie, darlin'... It's me... Look at me. Can you hear me?"
There was no reaction from Steve, who continued repeating shut up over and over, his hands still tugging at his hair.
"Fuck!" Christian's eyes widened and he grabbed hold of Steve's wrists, forcibly removing his hands from his head. This evoked a reaction; Steve pulled his hands from Christian's grip, fists pummelling at his chest. Still screaming 'shut up' and 'leave me alone', Steve's fists flew - most just hitting air but some connecting with Christian.
Christian defended himself the best he could, unwilling as he was to hurt Steve, shielding himself from the blows without landing any himself. One strike caught him wrong and sent him spinning backwards, crashing into the dining room table and landing on his arm with a sickening crunch. He lay still, cradling his arm against himself. His other arm protected his head, but no further punches were landed. He looked up only to find Steve on his knees on the floor, arms wrapped around himself, trembling as he sobbed, rocking back and forth.
*****
The next time Christian saw Steve was a couple of hours later; Steve lying sedated in a hospital bed. He was almost as pale as the stark white blankets; the smudged circles under his eyes standing out in dark relief. He was hooked up to IVs rehydrating him and a heart monitor beat steadily, reassuring.
"Fuck, Steve..." Christian sank down onto the chair next to the bed, the fingers of his unbroken arm automatically seeking Steve's, curling around them. He smiled and looked up, meeting Steve's eyes when Steve squeezed his hand back. "Hey." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. He ran the back of his knuckles down Steve's face before taking his hand again. "How you feelin?"
Steve grunted in reply and shook his head. "I... I don't..." His eyes fell on the cast around Christian's arm. "Fuck... Did I? Shit. Sorry. What happened?"
"It's not your fault," Christian promised. "I don't really know what happened. I asked you if you were hungry, if you wanted anything to eat and you just started screaming at me, slamming your head against the wall and pulling your hair out...” Christian trailed off, choked up and refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. “What’s goin on, Steve?”
Steve swallowed, a guilty look flashing over his face. “I’ve just been so busy lately. Writing, recording, playing. Travelling back and forth Portland to LA to Vegas. I... I got out of my routine. I... wasn’t taking the pills,” he admitted. “I felt ok. Didn’t think I needed them. But then... “
Christian shook his head and exhaled, looking up at Steve again, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t do that to me again,” he begged.
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “Christian, I...” He broke off with a yawn, his eyelids sliding closed.
“Get some rest, darlin’.”
Steve shifted over on the bed, a hopeful expression on his face. “Would you?”
“Always,” Christian smiled, genuinely, for the first time that evening as he kicked his boots off and slid into the bed next to Steve. He pulled him against his chest, broken arm resting on Steve’s stomach.
Steve curled into Christian’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, arms twined around him. “Thank you,” he mumbled, his tears falling and soaking into Christian’s shirt.
Christian tightened his arm around Steve, kissing the top of his head and holding him as he cried himself to sleep
~El Fin~
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, h/c, violence
Rating: PG-13
Thanks to: You, for reading this. celtprincess13 for the beta.
Disclaimer: Christian Kane and Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Notes: Written for the hc_bingo prompt Nervous Breakdown and therefore does cover mental health issues
Summary: Sometimes a familiar, caring, face is the last thing you want to see because you know it'll be the one thing that triggers you, the one thing that breaks that fine thread that's keeping everything held in. Especially if you're asked what's wrong.
Christian's eyes narrowed as he got his first look of Steve walking - no, shuffling, through the arrivals gate. Concern clenched his gut as he balled his hands into fists; Steve looked like shit. He was pale with huge dark smudges lining under his eyes. He'd lost weight, his clothes hanging loosely on him. He was dragging his feet, a walking example of a man purely exhausted, his hair hanging lank in his face. And, as he got closer, Christian realised it had definitely been a while since he'd showered and shaved. He sighed and shook his head, pulling Steve into a tight hug and holding on to him. He had no idea what had happened in the two weeks since he last saw Steve but he was damn well determined to get to the root of it. He intended to start with whether or not his lover had been taking his medication, since all signs pointed loudly towards no. Of course, this was Steve so it was never as easy as just asking the man.
Shouldering Steve's backpack, Christian kept up a steady stream of chatter about Leverage, anecdotes from filming, stories about his co-stars, about golf. Steve barely responded, worrying Christian even more. They reached the dark, mostly empty parking garage in no time; Christian easily backed Steve up against the door of his truck and kissed him soundly. Steve's hands fell to Christian's hips and he returned this kiss just as eagerly.
"Hi," he murmured shyly, lifting one hand to run through Christian's hair. "I missed you."
"Missed you too darlin'. Now lets get you home."
Steve grinned genuinely as he threw his bags in the back and climbed in.
The ride back to Christian's apartment was silent. Steve stared unseeing out of the window at the horizon. He was drumming his fingers, shifting position and mumbling just under his breath constantly. Christian tried to concentrate on driving, his eyes flickering between the road and Steve and he grew more and more worried the more time he spent with Steve. Something was definitely wrong and he did not like it at all.
"Home sweet home," Christian smiled, ushering Steve in first. He grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him close, kissing him quickly before grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. "You grab a shower and I'll get us some lunch," he suggested, frowning when Steve shook his head and pulling away.
"I'm not hungry." Steve grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. "You can make yourself something if you want but I've got to... hey," he protested when Christian poked him in the chest, hard.
"When was the last time you ate?" There was a hint of a growl to Christian's voice - enough to un-nerve Steve. "You've lost weight. You look like you ain't eaten in days."
"I'm not hungry, Chris." Steve repeated, meeting Christian's eyes. "I'm eating properly. I'm taking my meds. I'm sleeping ok. I'm fine."
"Don't look like it," Christian argued. "Don't look like you’re eating at all. Not just not eating, either, from the look of you. Don’t look like you’re taking care of yourself at all." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly; losing his temper would do no good at all.
Unfortunately, Steve didn't have such a good reign on his temper, his hands on Christian’s chest, shoving him backwards. "You're not my ma, Christian. I don't need you checking up on me. I'm eating just fine. I'm fine. Just leave me alone!" He turned his back on Christian, starting to pace the length of the room. He was muttering to himself, hands tugging at his hair, voice growing louder as he became more and more agitated. "Course he's not my ma. Not like Sandy cares. She was never a ma, not a proper one. Only ever wanted to be my friend. Mama Kane's more of a ma but I don't need it. I can take care of myself. You're right; I don't need him checking up on me. Don't need him seeing me like this. Oh god what must he think of me. I can hear you, I know, it's awful. Maybe I should just go, I should just grab my things and get out of here, we should, before he realises and no, shut up, shut up. Leave me alone. Shut up!" The last two words were screamed into the room, Steve's hands clutching at the side of his head as he banged his forehead against the wall repeatedly.
Adrenalin coursed through Christian, his body reacting, panicked as he raced across the room and grabbed Steve's shoulders, yanking him backwards to pull him away from the wall. He turned him around to face him, gut clenching at the tears streaking down his pale face, the reddening mark on his forehead and clumps of hair he'd pulled out. "Steve... Steve... Stevie, darlin'... It's me... Look at me. Can you hear me?"
There was no reaction from Steve, who continued repeating shut up over and over, his hands still tugging at his hair.
"Fuck!" Christian's eyes widened and he grabbed hold of Steve's wrists, forcibly removing his hands from his head. This evoked a reaction; Steve pulled his hands from Christian's grip, fists pummelling at his chest. Still screaming 'shut up' and 'leave me alone', Steve's fists flew - most just hitting air but some connecting with Christian.
Christian defended himself the best he could, unwilling as he was to hurt Steve, shielding himself from the blows without landing any himself. One strike caught him wrong and sent him spinning backwards, crashing into the dining room table and landing on his arm with a sickening crunch. He lay still, cradling his arm against himself. His other arm protected his head, but no further punches were landed. He looked up only to find Steve on his knees on the floor, arms wrapped around himself, trembling as he sobbed, rocking back and forth.
*****
The next time Christian saw Steve was a couple of hours later; Steve lying sedated in a hospital bed. He was almost as pale as the stark white blankets; the smudged circles under his eyes standing out in dark relief. He was hooked up to IVs rehydrating him and a heart monitor beat steadily, reassuring.
"Fuck, Steve..." Christian sank down onto the chair next to the bed, the fingers of his unbroken arm automatically seeking Steve's, curling around them. He smiled and looked up, meeting Steve's eyes when Steve squeezed his hand back. "Hey." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. He ran the back of his knuckles down Steve's face before taking his hand again. "How you feelin?"
Steve grunted in reply and shook his head. "I... I don't..." His eyes fell on the cast around Christian's arm. "Fuck... Did I? Shit. Sorry. What happened?"
"It's not your fault," Christian promised. "I don't really know what happened. I asked you if you were hungry, if you wanted anything to eat and you just started screaming at me, slamming your head against the wall and pulling your hair out...” Christian trailed off, choked up and refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. “What’s goin on, Steve?”
Steve swallowed, a guilty look flashing over his face. “I’ve just been so busy lately. Writing, recording, playing. Travelling back and forth Portland to LA to Vegas. I... I got out of my routine. I... wasn’t taking the pills,” he admitted. “I felt ok. Didn’t think I needed them. But then... “
Christian shook his head and exhaled, looking up at Steve again, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t do that to me again,” he begged.
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “Christian, I...” He broke off with a yawn, his eyelids sliding closed.
“Get some rest, darlin’.”
Steve shifted over on the bed, a hopeful expression on his face. “Would you?”
“Always,” Christian smiled, genuinely, for the first time that evening as he kicked his boots off and slid into the bed next to Steve. He pulled him against his chest, broken arm resting on Steve’s stomach.
Steve curled into Christian’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, arms twined around him. “Thank you,” he mumbled, his tears falling and soaking into Christian’s shirt.
Christian tightened his arm around Steve, kissing the top of his head and holding him as he cried himself to sleep
~El Fin~