FIC: Every Cowboy Sings A Sad Sad Song
Title: Every Cowboy Sings A Sad Sad Song
Author: Cassie Morgan (badfalcon)
Fandom: RPS - ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, Christian Kane/Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Angst, H/C
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Steve Carlson & Christian Kane 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. Title is from Every Rose Has It's Thorn by Poison
Thanks to: You, for reading this. bellasianna, as ever, for the beta, hand-holding and encouragement.
Notes: This one's for amara_m
Summary: Sometimes it takes more than one person to put Christian back together when he starts falling apart. And sometimes, Christian misinterprets his friends intentions entirely.
Jeff slipped quietly into the room, his heart sinking at the sight that greeted him. The apartment was dark and musty; the smells of alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air. Empty take-out cartons, beer bottles and cans littered every surface along with over-spilled ashtrays; a single forgotten cigarette burned in one of them, ash dropping to the carpet. The door shut behind him and he leaned back against it, unable to move as he watched his boy.
Christian was on the couch, cross-legged and hunched over his guitar. He was dressed in a large red flannel shirt that was full of holes and faded, ripped, threadbare jeans. His feet were bare and his hair lank and greasy, matted and knotted, pulled back from his face with a dirty blue bandana.
“Oh, Chris…” Jeff breathed, forcing himself to move. He pushed himself upright and took a step towards Christian.
Hearing his name Christian stopped playing and looked up at Jeff. “Fuck off, Jeff.” But there was no venom behind Christian’s words - his tone was as tired and flat as his body language. His face was pale and lined, as tired as the rest of him with a few days worth of beard growth. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, rimmed red with tears. Neither man spoke for long minutes, merely stared at each other until Christian huffed out a breath and dropped his gaze back to the floor. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was worried about you,” Jeff replied simply, holding his hands up as though soothing a stressed animal as he took a step closer to Christian.
“I’m fine,” Christian mumbled, curling further around his guitar, visibly trying to make himself look smaller on the couch.
“Uh-huh… Not buying it, Kane.” Jeff continued taking small steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Christian. He reached out and took the guitar, his stomach settling heavily as Christian whimpered softly reluctant to let it go then simply released it with a huff of air and sagged back, one hand covering his face. “Chris?” There was no response so Jeff placed the guitar on the floor against the couch and turned his attention back to Christian, wrapping his hands around his upper arms and tugging him roughly to his feet. This actually provoked a reaction from Christian, who narrowed his eyes and struggled, albeit ineffectually, against Jeff, fists hitting him in the chest, growling something that sounded vaguely like ‘leave me alone’.
Jeff grunted as a couple of punches actually found their mark, hitting him squarely in the chest. He shifted his grip, holding tightly onto Christian’s wrists until Christian slumped forward against him with a pained guttural cry. He wrapped his arms tightly around Christian, holding him close as silent sobs shook his shoulders. Murmuring soothingly, Jeff rubbed calming circles on Christian’s back as his tears soaked into his t-shirt. He held Christian tighter when he tensed and tried to pull away, continuing to sooth him until Christian sighed and inhaled deeply. Slowly, Jeff relaxed his hold on Christian, cupping his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his temple
"What happened?" Jeff narrowed his eyes at Christian and shook his head. "No," he changed his mind, not giving Christian chance to speak. "There is no excuse you can give for this Christian."
Christian sighed softly and ran one finger over his lips. He opened his mouth to apologise but was interrupted by Jeff again.
"Don't apologise if you don't mean it."
Christian nodded, once, jerkily. His eyes were still fixed on the carpet. "I can't.... I don't... I need... Steve, he...."
"Called me," Jeff said gently, sitting down next to Christian, one hand resting on his knee. "He's worried about you. A lot of people are. You're a mess, Chris."
"Yeah." He scrubbed one hand over his face, lifting his eyes to Jeff's. "Steve... he... he called you?" Christian asked tentatively.
"He called me. After he saw that interview. And we all saw that interview. Hell, I bet even your mom saw that interview. Surprised she hasn't had anything to say about it."
"Turned my phone off."
"I know. Steve knows. So does your mom, I imagine. You should ring her," Jeff suggested. "Apologise. Explain things. But not yet." He placed a hand on Christian's shoulder, pressing him down on the couch when he made motions to move. "Not yet," he repeated, hand sliding up Christian's neck and into the matted tangle of his hair, tugging gently, affectionately, reassuringly. "Gotta get you showered and sober first."
He pulled a docile Christian to his feet, taking his hand and leading him across the apartment to the bathroom. He motioned for Christian to sit on the toilet seat before drawing him a bath. An uncomfortable silence descended, punctuated by the water splashing into the tub.
Jeff straightened up, watched Christian picking at his nails and sighed. He moved to stand in front of him and tugged him to his feet; quickly and surely divesting him of his clothes, throwing them in the general direction of the laundry basket in the corner. "Oh, Christian..." He frowned at how thin Christian had gotten and ran a hand down his back. "You really haven't been taking care of yourself, have you? I don't need an answer," he continued when Christian started to reply. "In the bath," he instructed, raising an eyebrow when Christian hesitated and turned to him.
"You... you could... um.. join me?"
Jeff smiled and kissed Christian. "I will sweetheart," he promised. "In just a few moments. I'm gonna tidy up in there first, then I'll be right back, ok?"
Christian nodded and slid into the bath. He closed his eyes as he sank into the warm water, all but his head submerged; heat penetrating cold and stiff muscles. He wrapped his arms around his waist, listening to the sound of Jeff bustling around his apartment.
Jeff threw the blinds open and opened all the windows, letting air into to the place. Grabbing a black bag from the kitchen he checked the coffee maker, emptied and refilled it, and turned it on, letting it brew while he swept all the trash into the bag. He nodded to himself in satisfaction as the small of coffee and fresh air started replacing he mustiness, then opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, returning Christian's greeting smile. "How you feeling sweetheart?"
Christian pushed himself to a sitting position, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. He looked down at it, then back up at Jeff before shrugging and wordlessly held his hand out.
Jeff chuckled and nodded, pulling his shirt off as he stepped forward. He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, cupping Christian's face in his hands and kissing the confused look off his face.
"You said you'd join me," Christian pouted. "You said, when you'd finished out there, that you'd join me. In here," he splashed his hands down in the water, then reached out, his arm looping around Jeff's neck. "I'm all naked and wet and waiting for you, Jeff..."
"I lied," Jeff admitted easily, moving away from Christian's attempts to kiss him and pull him closer, into the bath. "And you're drunk."
Christian laughed softly and knelt up in the bath, his wet hands slipping over Jeff's skin as he tried again to grab him. "Drunk or not, I know what I want, Jeff." His voice dropped lower, seductive, lips curving upwards as his eyes roamed over Jeff's chest and down to his jeans. "And I want you.
"No," Jeff grunted as he manhandled Christian back into the tub, pressing him down, dunking his head under the water. He hauled him back up, ignoring Christian's splutters and curses. "You want Steve. What you're doing right now is trying to distract me. And it's not going to work," he continued, rubbing shampoo into Christian's hair; working it through the lengths and massaging his scalp.
Christian moaned, his eyelids fluttering closed as he leaned into the touch. "Not fair," he muttered, his body pliant and lax as Jeff pushed him back under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair. "You did, once."
"I did what once?" Jeff asked, his hands running through Christian's hair again, working the conditioner through, fingers smoothing out the tangles.
"Want me." Christian spat out a mouthful of water and pushed his hair out of his eyes, turning to face Jeff.
Jeff rocked back on his heels and sighed. He ran his hands over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I did. I still do," he admittedly softly. "But Steve..."
"Steve isn't here," Christian pointed out, reaching out to Jeff again, trailing one finger down his chest.
"Stop it, Christian." Jeff snapped, slapping his hands away. He moved back out of his reach. "You and Steve have something special. I'm not gonna let you ruin that just because you're fucked up right now. Steve is worried sick about you - and for good reason."
"So worried he's not here," Christian spat but Jeff could hear the hurt in his voice, see the way his face fell and he curled in on himself.
"Oh, sweetheart, no..." Jeff leaned in, pulled Christian close and ran a hand through his hair to cup his cheek. He presses a chaste kiss to Christian's lips, pulling back before Christian could deepen it. "Only reason I'm here instead of Steve is because he physically can't be. He tried, Christian. Believe me, he tried. He is trying. He's stuck in LA worried out of his mind and trying desperately to get a flight. Fuck, for all I know he's hired a car and is trying to drive out here. He asked me if I could get a flight, to get to you until he could. And it turns out it was easier for me to get down here from Vancouver. That's the only reason I'm here and not Steve, ok?"
Christian sniffed and nodded. "K," he replied, a shaky breath escaping him when Jeff wiped his tears away.
"Come on," Jeff tugged him down his feet and guided him out of the bath. "You've been in there too long - you're turning into a prune." He grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped Christian up in it, leading him into his bedroom. Sitting Christian down on the edge of the bed, he rummaged through his drawers, throwing boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt at him. "Don't think I won't dress you..." he warned when Christian didn't move
"You wouldn't..."
"I've just stripped you, bathed you and toweled you dry," Jeff pointed out calmly. "Why would you think I wouldn't dress you again?"
Christian blushed but dressed himself. "Would take him nearly three days to drive here," he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head.
"Then he's probably well over half-way," Jeff promised, sitting down next to Christian, who nodded.
"When you said it was easy for you to get a flight down..."
"I meant I turned up at the airport and pulled a 'do you know who I am?'." It was Jeff's turn to blush, a self-deprecating smile on his face as he tugged at his beard. "My words were 'I'm fucking Jeffrey Dean Morgan, I need to get to Nashville and you will get me on a plane. Right. Now.'"
A genuine laugh escaped Christian. "And that worked?"
Jeff nodded and scratched the back of his head. "The girl was a Supernatural fan."
"Figures." Christian took a deep breath. "Jeff, I... I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologise to me."
"Yeah, I do," Christian insisted. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have... have... what I did, it was wrong to put you in that position and I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. But I know you Christian. I've seen you do this before. You want so desperately to be wanted, to be loved, you'll take whatever you can grab hold of. But you don't need to do that any more, I promise you. You've got Steve and he does want you, does love you."
"Yeah." Christian nodded and bit at his thumb."Yeah, I know. And I..."
"Yeah, I know." Jeff pulled Christian to his feet again, this time leading him to the kitchen and sitting him down at the table. Turning to the coffee-maker, Jeff slid a large mug across the table at Christian, who wrapped his hands around and inhaled deeply before taking a small sip. "You know you can always talk to me." Jeff turned the chair around, straddling it, his hands resting on the back. "No matter what fucked up place your head is in. Or where in the country you are, or I am. Even if you can't bring yourself to tell Steve's what's going on in there, you can talk to me."
"I know."
"Then talk to me, Christian," Jeff urged. "Tell me what's happened..."
Christian nodded and took another slow sip of his coffee before doing just that
~El Fin~
Author: Cassie Morgan (badfalcon)
Fandom: RPS - ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, Christian Kane/Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Angst, H/C
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Steve Carlson & Christian Kane 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. Title is from Every Rose Has It's Thorn by Poison
Thanks to: You, for reading this. bellasianna, as ever, for the beta, hand-holding and encouragement.
Notes: This one's for amara_m
Summary: Sometimes it takes more than one person to put Christian back together when he starts falling apart. And sometimes, Christian misinterprets his friends intentions entirely.
Jeff slipped quietly into the room, his heart sinking at the sight that greeted him. The apartment was dark and musty; the smells of alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air. Empty take-out cartons, beer bottles and cans littered every surface along with over-spilled ashtrays; a single forgotten cigarette burned in one of them, ash dropping to the carpet. The door shut behind him and he leaned back against it, unable to move as he watched his boy.
Christian was on the couch, cross-legged and hunched over his guitar. He was dressed in a large red flannel shirt that was full of holes and faded, ripped, threadbare jeans. His feet were bare and his hair lank and greasy, matted and knotted, pulled back from his face with a dirty blue bandana.
“Oh, Chris…” Jeff breathed, forcing himself to move. He pushed himself upright and took a step towards Christian.
Hearing his name Christian stopped playing and looked up at Jeff. “Fuck off, Jeff.” But there was no venom behind Christian’s words - his tone was as tired and flat as his body language. His face was pale and lined, as tired as the rest of him with a few days worth of beard growth. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, rimmed red with tears. Neither man spoke for long minutes, merely stared at each other until Christian huffed out a breath and dropped his gaze back to the floor. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was worried about you,” Jeff replied simply, holding his hands up as though soothing a stressed animal as he took a step closer to Christian.
“I’m fine,” Christian mumbled, curling further around his guitar, visibly trying to make himself look smaller on the couch.
“Uh-huh… Not buying it, Kane.” Jeff continued taking small steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Christian. He reached out and took the guitar, his stomach settling heavily as Christian whimpered softly reluctant to let it go then simply released it with a huff of air and sagged back, one hand covering his face. “Chris?” There was no response so Jeff placed the guitar on the floor against the couch and turned his attention back to Christian, wrapping his hands around his upper arms and tugging him roughly to his feet. This actually provoked a reaction from Christian, who narrowed his eyes and struggled, albeit ineffectually, against Jeff, fists hitting him in the chest, growling something that sounded vaguely like ‘leave me alone’.
Jeff grunted as a couple of punches actually found their mark, hitting him squarely in the chest. He shifted his grip, holding tightly onto Christian’s wrists until Christian slumped forward against him with a pained guttural cry. He wrapped his arms tightly around Christian, holding him close as silent sobs shook his shoulders. Murmuring soothingly, Jeff rubbed calming circles on Christian’s back as his tears soaked into his t-shirt. He held Christian tighter when he tensed and tried to pull away, continuing to sooth him until Christian sighed and inhaled deeply. Slowly, Jeff relaxed his hold on Christian, cupping his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his temple
"What happened?" Jeff narrowed his eyes at Christian and shook his head. "No," he changed his mind, not giving Christian chance to speak. "There is no excuse you can give for this Christian."
Christian sighed softly and ran one finger over his lips. He opened his mouth to apologise but was interrupted by Jeff again.
"Don't apologise if you don't mean it."
Christian nodded, once, jerkily. His eyes were still fixed on the carpet. "I can't.... I don't... I need... Steve, he...."
"Called me," Jeff said gently, sitting down next to Christian, one hand resting on his knee. "He's worried about you. A lot of people are. You're a mess, Chris."
"Yeah." He scrubbed one hand over his face, lifting his eyes to Jeff's. "Steve... he... he called you?" Christian asked tentatively.
"He called me. After he saw that interview. And we all saw that interview. Hell, I bet even your mom saw that interview. Surprised she hasn't had anything to say about it."
"Turned my phone off."
"I know. Steve knows. So does your mom, I imagine. You should ring her," Jeff suggested. "Apologise. Explain things. But not yet." He placed a hand on Christian's shoulder, pressing him down on the couch when he made motions to move. "Not yet," he repeated, hand sliding up Christian's neck and into the matted tangle of his hair, tugging gently, affectionately, reassuringly. "Gotta get you showered and sober first."
He pulled a docile Christian to his feet, taking his hand and leading him across the apartment to the bathroom. He motioned for Christian to sit on the toilet seat before drawing him a bath. An uncomfortable silence descended, punctuated by the water splashing into the tub.
Jeff straightened up, watched Christian picking at his nails and sighed. He moved to stand in front of him and tugged him to his feet; quickly and surely divesting him of his clothes, throwing them in the general direction of the laundry basket in the corner. "Oh, Christian..." He frowned at how thin Christian had gotten and ran a hand down his back. "You really haven't been taking care of yourself, have you? I don't need an answer," he continued when Christian started to reply. "In the bath," he instructed, raising an eyebrow when Christian hesitated and turned to him.
"You... you could... um.. join me?"
Jeff smiled and kissed Christian. "I will sweetheart," he promised. "In just a few moments. I'm gonna tidy up in there first, then I'll be right back, ok?"
Christian nodded and slid into the bath. He closed his eyes as he sank into the warm water, all but his head submerged; heat penetrating cold and stiff muscles. He wrapped his arms around his waist, listening to the sound of Jeff bustling around his apartment.
Jeff threw the blinds open and opened all the windows, letting air into to the place. Grabbing a black bag from the kitchen he checked the coffee maker, emptied and refilled it, and turned it on, letting it brew while he swept all the trash into the bag. He nodded to himself in satisfaction as the small of coffee and fresh air started replacing he mustiness, then opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, returning Christian's greeting smile. "How you feeling sweetheart?"
Christian pushed himself to a sitting position, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. He looked down at it, then back up at Jeff before shrugging and wordlessly held his hand out.
Jeff chuckled and nodded, pulling his shirt off as he stepped forward. He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, cupping Christian's face in his hands and kissing the confused look off his face.
"You said you'd join me," Christian pouted. "You said, when you'd finished out there, that you'd join me. In here," he splashed his hands down in the water, then reached out, his arm looping around Jeff's neck. "I'm all naked and wet and waiting for you, Jeff..."
"I lied," Jeff admitted easily, moving away from Christian's attempts to kiss him and pull him closer, into the bath. "And you're drunk."
Christian laughed softly and knelt up in the bath, his wet hands slipping over Jeff's skin as he tried again to grab him. "Drunk or not, I know what I want, Jeff." His voice dropped lower, seductive, lips curving upwards as his eyes roamed over Jeff's chest and down to his jeans. "And I want you.
"No," Jeff grunted as he manhandled Christian back into the tub, pressing him down, dunking his head under the water. He hauled him back up, ignoring Christian's splutters and curses. "You want Steve. What you're doing right now is trying to distract me. And it's not going to work," he continued, rubbing shampoo into Christian's hair; working it through the lengths and massaging his scalp.
Christian moaned, his eyelids fluttering closed as he leaned into the touch. "Not fair," he muttered, his body pliant and lax as Jeff pushed him back under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair. "You did, once."
"I did what once?" Jeff asked, his hands running through Christian's hair again, working the conditioner through, fingers smoothing out the tangles.
"Want me." Christian spat out a mouthful of water and pushed his hair out of his eyes, turning to face Jeff.
Jeff rocked back on his heels and sighed. He ran his hands over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I did. I still do," he admittedly softly. "But Steve..."
"Steve isn't here," Christian pointed out, reaching out to Jeff again, trailing one finger down his chest.
"Stop it, Christian." Jeff snapped, slapping his hands away. He moved back out of his reach. "You and Steve have something special. I'm not gonna let you ruin that just because you're fucked up right now. Steve is worried sick about you - and for good reason."
"So worried he's not here," Christian spat but Jeff could hear the hurt in his voice, see the way his face fell and he curled in on himself.
"Oh, sweetheart, no..." Jeff leaned in, pulled Christian close and ran a hand through his hair to cup his cheek. He presses a chaste kiss to Christian's lips, pulling back before Christian could deepen it. "Only reason I'm here instead of Steve is because he physically can't be. He tried, Christian. Believe me, he tried. He is trying. He's stuck in LA worried out of his mind and trying desperately to get a flight. Fuck, for all I know he's hired a car and is trying to drive out here. He asked me if I could get a flight, to get to you until he could. And it turns out it was easier for me to get down here from Vancouver. That's the only reason I'm here and not Steve, ok?"
Christian sniffed and nodded. "K," he replied, a shaky breath escaping him when Jeff wiped his tears away.
"Come on," Jeff tugged him down his feet and guided him out of the bath. "You've been in there too long - you're turning into a prune." He grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped Christian up in it, leading him into his bedroom. Sitting Christian down on the edge of the bed, he rummaged through his drawers, throwing boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt at him. "Don't think I won't dress you..." he warned when Christian didn't move
"You wouldn't..."
"I've just stripped you, bathed you and toweled you dry," Jeff pointed out calmly. "Why would you think I wouldn't dress you again?"
Christian blushed but dressed himself. "Would take him nearly three days to drive here," he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head.
"Then he's probably well over half-way," Jeff promised, sitting down next to Christian, who nodded.
"When you said it was easy for you to get a flight down..."
"I meant I turned up at the airport and pulled a 'do you know who I am?'." It was Jeff's turn to blush, a self-deprecating smile on his face as he tugged at his beard. "My words were 'I'm fucking Jeffrey Dean Morgan, I need to get to Nashville and you will get me on a plane. Right. Now.'"
A genuine laugh escaped Christian. "And that worked?"
Jeff nodded and scratched the back of his head. "The girl was a Supernatural fan."
"Figures." Christian took a deep breath. "Jeff, I... I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologise to me."
"Yeah, I do," Christian insisted. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have... have... what I did, it was wrong to put you in that position and I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. But I know you Christian. I've seen you do this before. You want so desperately to be wanted, to be loved, you'll take whatever you can grab hold of. But you don't need to do that any more, I promise you. You've got Steve and he does want you, does love you."
"Yeah." Christian nodded and bit at his thumb."Yeah, I know. And I..."
"Yeah, I know." Jeff pulled Christian to his feet again, this time leading him to the kitchen and sitting him down at the table. Turning to the coffee-maker, Jeff slid a large mug across the table at Christian, who wrapped his hands around and inhaled deeply before taking a small sip. "You know you can always talk to me." Jeff turned the chair around, straddling it, his hands resting on the back. "No matter what fucked up place your head is in. Or where in the country you are, or I am. Even if you can't bring yourself to tell Steve's what's going on in there, you can talk to me."
"I know."
"Then talk to me, Christian," Jeff urged. "Tell me what's happened..."
Christian nodded and took another slow sip of his coffee before doing just that
~El Fin~