Fic: "Southern Comfort" (Mac/Jack) NC-17
Fandom: CSI: NY
Title: Southern Comfort
Author: gin200168
Rating: NC-17/FRAO (for M/M sex)
Pairing: Mac/OMC
Warnings: Slash
Summary: Sometimes the heart knows what the mind doesn’t.
Disclaimer: I own neither of these characters. One is the property of Anthony Zuiker and the rest of his respective people/companies, and the other was woven to life by stellaluna_.
Notes: Jack Abernathy is borrowed with the blessing and encouragement of his creator, stellaluna_. He first appears in her story ”Light From A Dead Star”. Familiarity with him will help you immensely-and she’s just worth reading anyways.
Looking around him, Mac's not exactly sure how he got to where he's standing. He's spent the last few days hopping transports, making a long and winding path back to Germany after a couple weeks of leave in the states -- where he managed only two days in the presence of his family before walking out, a new record-- and ending up in the Philippines for one of the layovers. He puts his ear to the ground while he's sitting in the terminal building, bored, with a few hours to spare. Mac overhears someone boasting about a recent escapade that he and bunch of guys went on-a commonplace conversation-- and one of the names mentioned a couple times in the recount of the mêlée was Jack Abernathy. At first he didn't think it could be the same man, even though he knew he had been transferred to the Philippines last year. But as the story went on, he knew it was. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back like he's taking a nap, but really it's because even the mention of Abernathy hurts and drags up a lot of things that he doesn't even want to think about.
So now he's standing outside a squat temporary building, after getting a map to the base and figuring out where Abernathy's unit is working out of. Honestly, he's not sure how he got here, standing in front of a building that Abernathy's inside right then, after what happened between them the last time he saw him. It seems to Mac like he had no control over his movements-- that his feet just magically transported him there. Regardless of why he's here, he made it this far and now stands frozen in place a few strides away from the door, rucksack slung over one shoulder. He can't make himself take that final step, to open the door and go in, standing there like his feet are encased in cement. He's convinced himself of how much of a bad idea this is and is about to turn and leave when the door opens, and out walks Abernathy, looking just the same as he had seen him last.
He passes Mac by like he's a normal face in the crowd, preoccupied with the papers in his hands and not really paying much notice to anyone around him. He stops dead in his tracks a few strides away from Mac and whirls around quickly, eyes wide, appearing confused and slightly panicked. He stares at Mac in disbelief, walking over to him and putting a hand over his chest gently, as if Mac was an apparition that he expected his hand to go straight through. When he feels warm flesh and Mac's heart beating rapidly beneath his hand, he shoves him hard in the center of the chest.
He laughs bitterly. "You. You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Jack…" Mac squirms slightly under his intense scrutiny.
"Oh no no, don't you be goin' all 'but Jack' on me. Fuck! You have the worst goddamn timing. I have to get this shit done by 1600, but there's no way in hell am I lettin' you outta my sight quite yet. I am not going give you no chance to coward out on me again."
Mac just stands there, stunned and gaping like a fish out of water, floundering for something to say. Abernathy grabs him firmly by the upper arm and drags him through a maze of more squat buildings to a barracks building that seems to be his shared bunk space. He pushes Mac through the door and shoves him down on the bed.
"You stay your ass here, you got me? If I come back and find your skinny ass gone, I'm gonna fucking track it down, beat you limp, drag you back here and make you listen to what I got to say." He growls, obviously flustered at Mac's sudden appearance.
Mac just nods, unsure of what he wants to do right now, other than be in the presence Abernathy. His gut tells him to stay, a coil of tension that he never realized he was harboring loosening at simply being in the same 3 feet of space with him, angry or not. Even so, parts of him are screaming at him to run away, to forget that he ever saw Abernathy again. The jetlag and strenuous travel on top of the emotional rollercoaster are starting to overwhelm Mac, taming the impulse to leave, and he lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes. Abernathy seems to sense Mac's calm and compliance, and lets go of his arm and steps back.
Abernathy looks closely at Mac one last time, inspecting him like he's trying to look through him and discern what exactly brought him here before he vanishes into thin air right in front of his eyes. He lets go of Mac's arm and brings his hand to rest against Mac's cheek for a moment, cupping it gently and looking down at him. Mac leans into the touch involuntarily, looking up at him until Abernathy pulls his hand away with a sigh and growl of frustration.
"Just stay here, all right? I'll be back."
Mac nods his assent, afraid that opening his mouth would let the contents of his mind spill out uncontrollably in a tumultuous swirl. He realizes that even if he could muster enough energy to leave, despite the heaviness that has seemed to take over his limbs, he wouldn't. Something he doesn't even want to begin figuring out seems to hold him back.
Abernathy goes to leave, stopping to look back at Mac one last time with the door just barely open. The door clicks shut, and Mac sits staring vacantly at the door for a couple minutes, trying in vain to gain some control of his emotions and mind. He checks his watch, calculates about what time it is there, and realizes that he has at least a couple hours before Abernathy will be back for him. Everything he's had to deal with in the last few minutes combined with all the traveling has exhausted him, and he decides to take a nap.
He leans his rucksack against the wall, unlaces his boots and sets them neatly by the bedside, throws the top blanket over himself, grabs Jack's pillow and lays down, trying to calm his mind enough to sleep. He's learned to catch sleep when and where he can, but he feels the safest he has in recent years, for reasons he doesn't even want to acknowledge at the moment. While trying to sort this all out in his head, he completely forgets about catching his transport. As he drifts to sleep, a familiar scent pulls him into dreams of the past.
-----------
Abernathy manages to sneak away from his work for a moment, the impulse to check if Mac has left becoming just too strong. He holds his breath nervously as he opens the door, and lets go in relief when he sees Mac curled up and sleeping on his bed. Mac looks even younger sleeping, the constant furrow in his brow not as pronounced as Abernathy figures it will become later in his life.
Even though he is still upset with Mac, something in Abernathy's chest tightens to see Mac in his bed, curled up with his pillow. Mac treated him like shit the last time he saw him, and even though Jack's always been the emotionally more stable and expressive of the pair, it frustrates the hell out of him that he can still be so drawn to Mac so helplessly.
He decides to leave Mac there sleeping for now, intending to wake him later when things can be handled properly. He feels better having seen that Mac is still there, and more confident that Mac will still be there when he returns.
--------
Mac awakens to someone shaking his shoulder, and he's disoriented and not quite sure what's going on. "Mac? Mac! Oh for cryin’ out loud… Get yer skinny ass up, will ya? We got some shit to finish, and it ain't gonna be here."
"Abernathy?" Mac asks, confused at first as to why Abernathy is here in front of him, but quickly remembers where he is and how he got there.
"Yeah it's me you idiot. Now will ya get up already? You can leave your shit here for now, ain't nobody gonna touch it." Mac nods and gets up, pulling his boots on. He follows Abernathy through a maze of different buildings and tents, nobody ever paying them much attention. He always knew the right places to go and hide that nobody would ever find them no matter where they were, and this time was no exception. Mac follows him into yet another supply tent, eerily similar to ones that they have spent many stolen hours in.
----
Abernathy pushes open the door, holding it open for Mac not out of politeness but rather to make sure he doesn't bolt one last time. At this point, he's pretty sure that Mac will stay since he has so far, but after how they parted ways the last time, he knows Mac isn't always predictable.
This setup is like every little one that he makes for himself on every little base he's been on-a corner to call his own, the closest to privacy and space you can find on a base-- as long as you don't mind sharing the space with shelves and boxes of random things. And since they don't make noise, pay attention to what's going around them or talk back, he doesn't mind it. He hasn't brought anybody back into his little burrows with him anymore since he came to the Philippines. He tells himself that it doesn't feel right, but really, it hurts to much to even consider why it doesn't.
----
Mac instinctively seeks out the back of the room, looking for the corner that Abernathy always set up the same, no matter where they were. The familiarity and the memories that it brings with it tears at him in a way he doesn't want to think about or understand right now. He turns around, looking to see if Abernathy is right behind him.
Abernathy comes right up to Mac, leaning in close and almost shaking with anger. "What in the fuck do you think you are doing here, huh Mac? Come just to get your rocks off again? Nobody there willing to get on their knees for a stiff man like you?" He's vehemently angry, hurt oozing from every word.
Mac looks down, rubbing the back of his neck and squirming under the tirade coming from Abernathy. "I… That's not it, Abernathy. I don't know. I just…" he trails off, lacking the words to communicate, and it doesn't help that he isn't really completely sure of his reasons anyway. "I jumped on a transport, and ended up here as a transfer point. I didn't really think about where I was going."
"Wait wait. Transport? The one that left here at 1400? You're here and you're fucking AWOL? What the hell is going, or not going, through that little head of yours? I am not cleaning up your mess. Hell no." Abernathy looks at Mac as if he's sprouted a new head.
"Calm down Jack," Mac gets up and walks over to him, and places his hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him from pacing and gesturing wildly. " I'm not AWOL. I'm on leave and not due back for another three days." The words seem to sink in, and he emits a small "oh", looking straight at Mac who hasn't let go. Jack's shoulders are warm and broad and feel perfect under his hands, for reasons he doesn't want to think about. He wants to let go, but it's like they're forced together like magnets.
"Hopping on transports? Why aren't you stateside?" Mac's eyes shift downward, avoiding his gaze.
"I was, for a few days. Just didn't stay there.". He takes his hands off of Abernathy’s shoulders, feeling the loss of heat and connection in more than just his extremities and steps back away from him.
"Alright. Fine. Hopping transports gets you random places. But that still doesn't answer me-how did you end up here, standing in front of me, looking for me. You coulda just grabbed the 1400 and not even left the terminal building. How come you were outside the unit office? And don't bullshit me with that 'I don't know' of yours, Mr. Science and 'everything's got an explanation'."
Mac just goes silent and tilts his head down completely, not looking at Abernathy, unable to formulate an answer or respond. Abernathy sighs, reaching over to tilt his head up, forcing Mac to look into his eyes. "You really don’t know, do you? You weren't thinking about it at all. You just came and found me, even after all this time. That means something, even if you still deny it, don't want to go there. You can't deny this.. thing. It didn't just go away."
Mac can do nothing but stare into Abernathy's eyes, and watch all the emotions and hurt swirl there in front of him. He doesn't know what to say, even though Abernathy's right-there is something between them, that lives and breathes and tries to claw its way to the surface every time he's around him. And only him. He was right back when he told Mac that he "ain't no queer". They aren't. But he can't deny the sense of otherworldly connection that he has with Abernathy. Like they were made to be together somehow, a piece that you never knew was missing until the sharp edges tore at you after its removal.
He can tell by what he sees in them is that he really did a number on Abernathy when they parted ways the last time. That wasn't his intention-he wanted to make things easier to forget, to tamper it all down before it could come back to hurt him. Mac thought that just cutting off any connection they had quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, would hurt less in the long run. If he knew how to admit it now, he would. If he could form the words, they'd pour out of him quicker than he could think to stop them, but he can't. He looks back into Abernathy's eyes, hoping that he still has the ability to see through Mac like he always seemed to be able to.
Suddenly Abernathy's lips are on his, startling him with the sudden change in the tension in the room. The joining of their lips is like throwing sparks of electricity out, crackling against the humidity in the air like miniature thunderstorms. Mac's mouth falls open under the assault, and his hands are drawn back to Abernathy's body. He moves closer, deepening the kiss, as Abernathy's hand moves to the back of Mac's head and the other reaches around to pull him closer. Mac's hands move straight to Abernathy's torso, one sliding in between the buttons of his uniform shirt while the other runs slowly up and down his spine.
They have to break for air, and Abernathy leans his forehead against Mac's, breathing hard and caressing Mac's side slowly and rubbing his hand back and forth in Mac's hair. Mac's eyes are shut, and his mouth is hanging just slightly open, air rushing in and out, mixing with Abernathy's before being drawn back into his lungs. His stomach has done a lurching flip, the emotions stringing him out, but this feels so good, so right, that he knows he just can't explain it. Or stop now that they've started again.
"Tell me you don't see it, don't feel it. You can't. And dammit, why do you do this to me? At least I ain't gotta fight that hard head of yours now."
He pushes Mac backwards against the cot, and Mac moves willingly, back leaning against the wall, sitting on it. The familiar give of the canvas under the majority of their combined weight and the slight groan of the frame bringing Mac a flash of a memory of the first time like this, worried about the groans of the frame and seams of the canvas straining below them, expecting it to tear and them crash through a bit painfully to the ground below. Not that they really could fit the both them on it-they're not slight men, and Abernathy's slightly more broad than Mac, but not significantly larger. They seem to make do with it well enough though.
Abernathy's hands don't stop moving, nor does his mouth as he settles on top of Mac, straddling him carefully. He makes quick work of Mac's uniform shirt, the drive to reconnect with Mac winning out over the persistent anger and hurt for the time being. He fumbles with undoing Mac's belt, snaking a hand below the waistband of his trousers. Mac tries the same, but freezes when Abernathy's hand wraps around his cock, letting out a hissing breath and arching into the touch. He kisses Mac sloppily, and Mac finishes getting Abernathy's trousers open and reaches inside, stroking and feeling pinpricks of fire on his fingertips.
Neither of them are able to last long, emotions fueling an overwhelming need that needed to escape. Every part of Mac's body tenses as he comes and lets go with a shuttering sigh. The convulsive tightening of Mac's hand pushes Abernathy over right after him, and Abernathy slumps against him, languidly kissing and licking the side of Mac's neck. Their bodies begin to protest being contorted as they are, Abernathy's weight on Mac especially becoming a burden.
He pulls back slightly, looking into Mac's eyes once again. "You can't deny it anymore, can you. I know that big brain of yours can figure out all sorts of stuff, but not this. It's different this time."
Mac nods, understanding the tentative olive branch being held out. "I'm… I'm sorry. Back in Germany… I should have done something."
"Yeah, you should have, you idiot. I'm not gonna lie to you and say that we're all good and shit, but you've at least started to try to do the right thing." Abernathy frowns, but reaches out to run his hand through Mac's short-trimmed hair.
"Well, you still have another two days, right? You still planning on goin' somewhere? If ya are, you missed your chance for today." Abernathy smiles and leans in for another kiss, moving his hand to the back of Mac's head. "Lucky for you, we're in a slow patch. No maneuvers or anything this weekend. Let's head to town and see what we can find, eh?"
Mac nods in approval, and Abernathy gets up and they both straighten up their clothes. They head back to Abernathy's bunk to pick up some things, and head out into the nearby city to find food and a private room for the weekend.
-------
Both of them know in the back of their minds that these two days will probably be the last time they'll ever get to be physically together, as much as they wished to deny it. When Sunday comes around, they come back to the base and Abernathy follows him to the terminal building after giving Mac the "proper sendoff" that got them in the original fight a year before.
Neither of them are good with the inevitable goodbye, waiting until the last minute before returning to the base. They never actually say goodbye, just a "See ya later" and "Yeah" passing between them. Everything else being said through their eyes, and to the world at large, they are just two good friends wishing the other well. Nobody around them can feel the undercurrents of tension and emotions that crackled around them just being near each other, hovering around them like a magnetic field.
He watches Mac board the plane, leaning against the wall of the terminal building, hands shoved in his pockets, comfortable in his skin, with a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth and eyes tinged with sadness. Mac covertly stares back at him, hesitating midway on the tarmac, wishing he could give in to the impulse to run back to Abernathy and stay.
Fin
3/06
Link to all of my stories
Title: Southern Comfort
Author: gin200168
Rating: NC-17/FRAO (for M/M sex)
Pairing: Mac/OMC
Warnings: Slash
Summary: Sometimes the heart knows what the mind doesn’t.
Disclaimer: I own neither of these characters. One is the property of Anthony Zuiker and the rest of his respective people/companies, and the other was woven to life by stellaluna_.
Notes: Jack Abernathy is borrowed with the blessing and encouragement of his creator, stellaluna_. He first appears in her story ”Light From A Dead Star”. Familiarity with him will help you immensely-and she’s just worth reading anyways.
Looking around him, Mac's not exactly sure how he got to where he's standing. He's spent the last few days hopping transports, making a long and winding path back to Germany after a couple weeks of leave in the states -- where he managed only two days in the presence of his family before walking out, a new record-- and ending up in the Philippines for one of the layovers. He puts his ear to the ground while he's sitting in the terminal building, bored, with a few hours to spare. Mac overhears someone boasting about a recent escapade that he and bunch of guys went on-a commonplace conversation-- and one of the names mentioned a couple times in the recount of the mêlée was Jack Abernathy. At first he didn't think it could be the same man, even though he knew he had been transferred to the Philippines last year. But as the story went on, he knew it was. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back like he's taking a nap, but really it's because even the mention of Abernathy hurts and drags up a lot of things that he doesn't even want to think about.
So now he's standing outside a squat temporary building, after getting a map to the base and figuring out where Abernathy's unit is working out of. Honestly, he's not sure how he got here, standing in front of a building that Abernathy's inside right then, after what happened between them the last time he saw him. It seems to Mac like he had no control over his movements-- that his feet just magically transported him there. Regardless of why he's here, he made it this far and now stands frozen in place a few strides away from the door, rucksack slung over one shoulder. He can't make himself take that final step, to open the door and go in, standing there like his feet are encased in cement. He's convinced himself of how much of a bad idea this is and is about to turn and leave when the door opens, and out walks Abernathy, looking just the same as he had seen him last.
He passes Mac by like he's a normal face in the crowd, preoccupied with the papers in his hands and not really paying much notice to anyone around him. He stops dead in his tracks a few strides away from Mac and whirls around quickly, eyes wide, appearing confused and slightly panicked. He stares at Mac in disbelief, walking over to him and putting a hand over his chest gently, as if Mac was an apparition that he expected his hand to go straight through. When he feels warm flesh and Mac's heart beating rapidly beneath his hand, he shoves him hard in the center of the chest.
He laughs bitterly. "You. You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Jack…" Mac squirms slightly under his intense scrutiny.
"Oh no no, don't you be goin' all 'but Jack' on me. Fuck! You have the worst goddamn timing. I have to get this shit done by 1600, but there's no way in hell am I lettin' you outta my sight quite yet. I am not going give you no chance to coward out on me again."
Mac just stands there, stunned and gaping like a fish out of water, floundering for something to say. Abernathy grabs him firmly by the upper arm and drags him through a maze of more squat buildings to a barracks building that seems to be his shared bunk space. He pushes Mac through the door and shoves him down on the bed.
"You stay your ass here, you got me? If I come back and find your skinny ass gone, I'm gonna fucking track it down, beat you limp, drag you back here and make you listen to what I got to say." He growls, obviously flustered at Mac's sudden appearance.
Mac just nods, unsure of what he wants to do right now, other than be in the presence Abernathy. His gut tells him to stay, a coil of tension that he never realized he was harboring loosening at simply being in the same 3 feet of space with him, angry or not. Even so, parts of him are screaming at him to run away, to forget that he ever saw Abernathy again. The jetlag and strenuous travel on top of the emotional rollercoaster are starting to overwhelm Mac, taming the impulse to leave, and he lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes. Abernathy seems to sense Mac's calm and compliance, and lets go of his arm and steps back.
Abernathy looks closely at Mac one last time, inspecting him like he's trying to look through him and discern what exactly brought him here before he vanishes into thin air right in front of his eyes. He lets go of Mac's arm and brings his hand to rest against Mac's cheek for a moment, cupping it gently and looking down at him. Mac leans into the touch involuntarily, looking up at him until Abernathy pulls his hand away with a sigh and growl of frustration.
"Just stay here, all right? I'll be back."
Mac nods his assent, afraid that opening his mouth would let the contents of his mind spill out uncontrollably in a tumultuous swirl. He realizes that even if he could muster enough energy to leave, despite the heaviness that has seemed to take over his limbs, he wouldn't. Something he doesn't even want to begin figuring out seems to hold him back.
Abernathy goes to leave, stopping to look back at Mac one last time with the door just barely open. The door clicks shut, and Mac sits staring vacantly at the door for a couple minutes, trying in vain to gain some control of his emotions and mind. He checks his watch, calculates about what time it is there, and realizes that he has at least a couple hours before Abernathy will be back for him. Everything he's had to deal with in the last few minutes combined with all the traveling has exhausted him, and he decides to take a nap.
He leans his rucksack against the wall, unlaces his boots and sets them neatly by the bedside, throws the top blanket over himself, grabs Jack's pillow and lays down, trying to calm his mind enough to sleep. He's learned to catch sleep when and where he can, but he feels the safest he has in recent years, for reasons he doesn't even want to acknowledge at the moment. While trying to sort this all out in his head, he completely forgets about catching his transport. As he drifts to sleep, a familiar scent pulls him into dreams of the past.
-----------
Abernathy manages to sneak away from his work for a moment, the impulse to check if Mac has left becoming just too strong. He holds his breath nervously as he opens the door, and lets go in relief when he sees Mac curled up and sleeping on his bed. Mac looks even younger sleeping, the constant furrow in his brow not as pronounced as Abernathy figures it will become later in his life.
Even though he is still upset with Mac, something in Abernathy's chest tightens to see Mac in his bed, curled up with his pillow. Mac treated him like shit the last time he saw him, and even though Jack's always been the emotionally more stable and expressive of the pair, it frustrates the hell out of him that he can still be so drawn to Mac so helplessly.
He decides to leave Mac there sleeping for now, intending to wake him later when things can be handled properly. He feels better having seen that Mac is still there, and more confident that Mac will still be there when he returns.
--------
Mac awakens to someone shaking his shoulder, and he's disoriented and not quite sure what's going on. "Mac? Mac! Oh for cryin’ out loud… Get yer skinny ass up, will ya? We got some shit to finish, and it ain't gonna be here."
"Abernathy?" Mac asks, confused at first as to why Abernathy is here in front of him, but quickly remembers where he is and how he got there.
"Yeah it's me you idiot. Now will ya get up already? You can leave your shit here for now, ain't nobody gonna touch it." Mac nods and gets up, pulling his boots on. He follows Abernathy through a maze of different buildings and tents, nobody ever paying them much attention. He always knew the right places to go and hide that nobody would ever find them no matter where they were, and this time was no exception. Mac follows him into yet another supply tent, eerily similar to ones that they have spent many stolen hours in.
----
Abernathy pushes open the door, holding it open for Mac not out of politeness but rather to make sure he doesn't bolt one last time. At this point, he's pretty sure that Mac will stay since he has so far, but after how they parted ways the last time, he knows Mac isn't always predictable.
This setup is like every little one that he makes for himself on every little base he's been on-a corner to call his own, the closest to privacy and space you can find on a base-- as long as you don't mind sharing the space with shelves and boxes of random things. And since they don't make noise, pay attention to what's going around them or talk back, he doesn't mind it. He hasn't brought anybody back into his little burrows with him anymore since he came to the Philippines. He tells himself that it doesn't feel right, but really, it hurts to much to even consider why it doesn't.
----
Mac instinctively seeks out the back of the room, looking for the corner that Abernathy always set up the same, no matter where they were. The familiarity and the memories that it brings with it tears at him in a way he doesn't want to think about or understand right now. He turns around, looking to see if Abernathy is right behind him.
Abernathy comes right up to Mac, leaning in close and almost shaking with anger. "What in the fuck do you think you are doing here, huh Mac? Come just to get your rocks off again? Nobody there willing to get on their knees for a stiff man like you?" He's vehemently angry, hurt oozing from every word.
Mac looks down, rubbing the back of his neck and squirming under the tirade coming from Abernathy. "I… That's not it, Abernathy. I don't know. I just…" he trails off, lacking the words to communicate, and it doesn't help that he isn't really completely sure of his reasons anyway. "I jumped on a transport, and ended up here as a transfer point. I didn't really think about where I was going."
"Wait wait. Transport? The one that left here at 1400? You're here and you're fucking AWOL? What the hell is going, or not going, through that little head of yours? I am not cleaning up your mess. Hell no." Abernathy looks at Mac as if he's sprouted a new head.
"Calm down Jack," Mac gets up and walks over to him, and places his hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him from pacing and gesturing wildly. " I'm not AWOL. I'm on leave and not due back for another three days." The words seem to sink in, and he emits a small "oh", looking straight at Mac who hasn't let go. Jack's shoulders are warm and broad and feel perfect under his hands, for reasons he doesn't want to think about. He wants to let go, but it's like they're forced together like magnets.
"Hopping on transports? Why aren't you stateside?" Mac's eyes shift downward, avoiding his gaze.
"I was, for a few days. Just didn't stay there.". He takes his hands off of Abernathy’s shoulders, feeling the loss of heat and connection in more than just his extremities and steps back away from him.
"Alright. Fine. Hopping transports gets you random places. But that still doesn't answer me-how did you end up here, standing in front of me, looking for me. You coulda just grabbed the 1400 and not even left the terminal building. How come you were outside the unit office? And don't bullshit me with that 'I don't know' of yours, Mr. Science and 'everything's got an explanation'."
Mac just goes silent and tilts his head down completely, not looking at Abernathy, unable to formulate an answer or respond. Abernathy sighs, reaching over to tilt his head up, forcing Mac to look into his eyes. "You really don’t know, do you? You weren't thinking about it at all. You just came and found me, even after all this time. That means something, even if you still deny it, don't want to go there. You can't deny this.. thing. It didn't just go away."
Mac can do nothing but stare into Abernathy's eyes, and watch all the emotions and hurt swirl there in front of him. He doesn't know what to say, even though Abernathy's right-there is something between them, that lives and breathes and tries to claw its way to the surface every time he's around him. And only him. He was right back when he told Mac that he "ain't no queer". They aren't. But he can't deny the sense of otherworldly connection that he has with Abernathy. Like they were made to be together somehow, a piece that you never knew was missing until the sharp edges tore at you after its removal.
He can tell by what he sees in them is that he really did a number on Abernathy when they parted ways the last time. That wasn't his intention-he wanted to make things easier to forget, to tamper it all down before it could come back to hurt him. Mac thought that just cutting off any connection they had quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, would hurt less in the long run. If he knew how to admit it now, he would. If he could form the words, they'd pour out of him quicker than he could think to stop them, but he can't. He looks back into Abernathy's eyes, hoping that he still has the ability to see through Mac like he always seemed to be able to.
Suddenly Abernathy's lips are on his, startling him with the sudden change in the tension in the room. The joining of their lips is like throwing sparks of electricity out, crackling against the humidity in the air like miniature thunderstorms. Mac's mouth falls open under the assault, and his hands are drawn back to Abernathy's body. He moves closer, deepening the kiss, as Abernathy's hand moves to the back of Mac's head and the other reaches around to pull him closer. Mac's hands move straight to Abernathy's torso, one sliding in between the buttons of his uniform shirt while the other runs slowly up and down his spine.
They have to break for air, and Abernathy leans his forehead against Mac's, breathing hard and caressing Mac's side slowly and rubbing his hand back and forth in Mac's hair. Mac's eyes are shut, and his mouth is hanging just slightly open, air rushing in and out, mixing with Abernathy's before being drawn back into his lungs. His stomach has done a lurching flip, the emotions stringing him out, but this feels so good, so right, that he knows he just can't explain it. Or stop now that they've started again.
"Tell me you don't see it, don't feel it. You can't. And dammit, why do you do this to me? At least I ain't gotta fight that hard head of yours now."
He pushes Mac backwards against the cot, and Mac moves willingly, back leaning against the wall, sitting on it. The familiar give of the canvas under the majority of their combined weight and the slight groan of the frame bringing Mac a flash of a memory of the first time like this, worried about the groans of the frame and seams of the canvas straining below them, expecting it to tear and them crash through a bit painfully to the ground below. Not that they really could fit the both them on it-they're not slight men, and Abernathy's slightly more broad than Mac, but not significantly larger. They seem to make do with it well enough though.
Abernathy's hands don't stop moving, nor does his mouth as he settles on top of Mac, straddling him carefully. He makes quick work of Mac's uniform shirt, the drive to reconnect with Mac winning out over the persistent anger and hurt for the time being. He fumbles with undoing Mac's belt, snaking a hand below the waistband of his trousers. Mac tries the same, but freezes when Abernathy's hand wraps around his cock, letting out a hissing breath and arching into the touch. He kisses Mac sloppily, and Mac finishes getting Abernathy's trousers open and reaches inside, stroking and feeling pinpricks of fire on his fingertips.
Neither of them are able to last long, emotions fueling an overwhelming need that needed to escape. Every part of Mac's body tenses as he comes and lets go with a shuttering sigh. The convulsive tightening of Mac's hand pushes Abernathy over right after him, and Abernathy slumps against him, languidly kissing and licking the side of Mac's neck. Their bodies begin to protest being contorted as they are, Abernathy's weight on Mac especially becoming a burden.
He pulls back slightly, looking into Mac's eyes once again. "You can't deny it anymore, can you. I know that big brain of yours can figure out all sorts of stuff, but not this. It's different this time."
Mac nods, understanding the tentative olive branch being held out. "I'm… I'm sorry. Back in Germany… I should have done something."
"Yeah, you should have, you idiot. I'm not gonna lie to you and say that we're all good and shit, but you've at least started to try to do the right thing." Abernathy frowns, but reaches out to run his hand through Mac's short-trimmed hair.
"Well, you still have another two days, right? You still planning on goin' somewhere? If ya are, you missed your chance for today." Abernathy smiles and leans in for another kiss, moving his hand to the back of Mac's head. "Lucky for you, we're in a slow patch. No maneuvers or anything this weekend. Let's head to town and see what we can find, eh?"
Mac nods in approval, and Abernathy gets up and they both straighten up their clothes. They head back to Abernathy's bunk to pick up some things, and head out into the nearby city to find food and a private room for the weekend.
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Both of them know in the back of their minds that these two days will probably be the last time they'll ever get to be physically together, as much as they wished to deny it. When Sunday comes around, they come back to the base and Abernathy follows him to the terminal building after giving Mac the "proper sendoff" that got them in the original fight a year before.
Neither of them are good with the inevitable goodbye, waiting until the last minute before returning to the base. They never actually say goodbye, just a "See ya later" and "Yeah" passing between them. Everything else being said through their eyes, and to the world at large, they are just two good friends wishing the other well. Nobody around them can feel the undercurrents of tension and emotions that crackled around them just being near each other, hovering around them like a magnetic field.
He watches Mac board the plane, leaning against the wall of the terminal building, hands shoved in his pockets, comfortable in his skin, with a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth and eyes tinged with sadness. Mac covertly stares back at him, hesitating midway on the tarmac, wishing he could give in to the impulse to run back to Abernathy and stay.
Fin
3/06
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