FIC: Between You And Me 1/5
Title: Between You And Me
Author: Holly Lyn
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairings: Chris/Steve
Word Count: 23,616 (total)
Summary: When friendship becomes something more and is tested by outside influences can two souls remain true or will the fates step in and divide them?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone ... damn it! It's all fictional and just for fun.
Between You And Me
Holly Lyn
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The sound of a door opening and the soft squeak of rubber-soled shoes woke the man sleeping in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a start. The antiseptic smell and steady rhythmic beeping let him know that he was still living what he’d hoped was only a bizarre nightmare. He groaned and rubbed his aching neck looking blearily at the petite brunette nurse who had entered the room.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Carlson. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said in a voice lightly touched with a Scottish accent.
A strained smile quirked the corners of Steve’s mouth, “It’s cool, Carly. I know you’re only doing your job.”
Carly moved to the head of the bed and pushed a thick fall of hair out of her patient’s face. “I just need to take his vitals and I’ll let you alone again.” She glanced at the diagnostic machines to the side of the room and wrote something on her charts. “I’m guessing he hasn’t shown any signs of waking up yet?”
Steve sighed and ran his hands through his tousled long blond hair, “I’m afraid not.”
Taking her last reading, Carly hung the clipboard back at the foot of the bed and approached the exhausted man who had barely left his friend’s bedside in the long hours since he’d been brought in. “The doctors aren’t worried yet so don’t let this get to you, okay?” Steve nodded and she continued, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to replenish his fluids and antibiotics. In the meantime, can I get you something? Coffee or a sandwich?”
“No thanks, Carly,” Steve waved her off with a grimace. “I don’t think my stomach could handle anything right now.”
Carly put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Well, if you change your mind just use his call buzzer. I’ll let the nurse’s desk know you might be ringing.”
Steve felt tears sting his eyes at her kindness and could only nod his thanks to her as she left the room. Once the door was shut again, he cleared the boulder-sized lump in his throat and reached out to take the hand of the unresponsive man in the bed. His friend … His partner … His … “Come on, Kane,” he whispered shakily, “please wake up and let me know you’re okay.” This time he did not stop the tears from falling …
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
Earlier that day …
A lengthy round of wet sneezes sounded from the small bathroom cubicle of the on set trailer and Steve shook his head in concern and frustration. “Chris,” he called to the closed door, “you need to tell them you aren’t feeling well and let your stunt double take over the last scene for you.”
The restroom door creaked open and Christian walked out with a scowl on his face. “Have you always been such a damned mama hen, Carlson?” he rasped and blew his nose. The scowl melted away to be replaced by a wry grin. “I told you already that the way they’ve set up the camera angles, Eliot’s face will be visible during this sequence. I have to run the stunt myself.”
Moving into the tiny kitchen, Christian heated water in the microwave and made himself a quick cup of tea. As he finished his preparations he glanced up to see Steve staring at him with a guarded look on his face. Christian sighed and sat down at the table across from the other man. “Listen, man, we have this same conversation every time you come to visit me on set when we have a big stunt gag set up.”
“I know but …”
“You ever seen me get hurt?”
“Not when I’m here but …”
“We’ve gone over this gag so many times. Nothin’ is gonna happen. The timing’s perfect.”
Steve sighed. “But you do get hurt,” he said resignedly knowing he wouldn’t win the discussion.
Christian’s head dropped. “Tell you what, man. Why don’t you take the car and go back to the house. I’ll catch a ride with Tim after we wrap this thing,” he held out his keys.
“What?! … No!!” Steve was shocked that Christian would even suggest such a thing.
“Whoa!” Christian held up his hands. “Hold on there … I was just thinking you could go home and rest up so at least one of us will be fresh for the show at Dante’s tonight.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Chris,” Steve was adamant. “I came with you so we could have a little more time together. We were supposed to have a few days between your shooting schedule and the start of the radio tour.”
Christian finished his tea and rinsed his cup out before turning back to Steve. He leaned back against the sink and said, “I know and I’m sorry. We were gonna take some time off so we could talk things out but the shooting schedule got fucked up and here we are. It couldn’t be helped.”
Standing up and moving into Christian’s personal space, Steve said, “We’re gonna have plenty of time to talk while we’re on the road. Right now I just want you to know I’m here for you - to be with you … No matter how much of a stubborn ass I think you’re being.” Steve ducked his head trying to hide the grin that was spreading across his face.
Christian closed the remainder of the distance between them and raised Steve’s head with a fingertip under his chin. “I thought you liked … my stubborn ass,” he growled with a sly smile of his own.
“Well … maybe not the stubborn part,” Steve responded bending his head towards the other man.
The warmth of Steve’s breath caressed Christian’s face. Christian shifted to close the last fraction of distance …
//Bam … Bam … Bam// “You’re needed on set, Christian,” one of the show’s assistants called through the closed door.
“Curses! Foiled again!” Steve snickered ruefully.
Christian backed away, “It’s probably a good thing,” he drawled. “We agreed to talk this through before we did something we couldn’t fix or might regret later.” He grabbed the shirt he needed for the scene they were about to shoot and put it on over his muscle shirt. “You don’t have to come out and watch this, you know,” he said softly.
“I have it on good authority that nothing’s gonna go wrong,” Steve replied, managing to keep his tone light and unconcerned.
“Then let’s get out there and do this thing, son!” Christian said in his best ‘Eliot-fucking-Spencer’ voice as he pushed the door to the trailer open and ushered Steve out in front of him with a hand to the small of his back.
By the time the two men reached the area that was set up for the final scene to be shot, Christian was fully in character and ready to go. He escorted Steve to his own personal chair off to the side of where the action would be and continued on for a final briefing with the other players who were involved in the sequence. Steve watched as they walked through the phases of the stunt that called for Christian to do a roll up over the hood and windshield of a moving vehicle and land on his feet as the car sped away. Christian was fitted with thin protective padding on the thigh, shoulder and portion of his back that would be coming in contact with the car.
The first couple of run-throughs were done with the car sitting still at the point of impact and Christian running at it to gauge the speed and height of the leap he was going to have to make. Once everyone was satisfied that the timing was right, the car was put into very slow motion and they ran the stunt another few times.
Just as Steve was starting to relax and enjoy watching the process, he saw it; Christian stumbled a little coming out of the roll and staggered his way back onto his feet favoring his ankle. Steve was halfway out of his seat when a hand fell on his shoulder and firmly pushed him back down. “Hey!” he protested and looked up and back into the face of Timothy Hutton. Tim wasn’t actually working but had stayed in town to attend their show at Dante’s later that night.
“He won’t thank you,” the older man said quietly.
“But he’s …” Steve started as they began another run. This time it was almost at full speed and it went perfectly. Christian turned to look at the two of them and gave them an ‘okay’ sign.
Timothy smiled and returned the gesture as he pulled his own chair over to sit next to Steve. “Here you go,” he offered Steve a cup of hot coffee. “If we’re lucky it’ll be one take and everyone can finally go home.”
Steve nodded and took a sip of the coffee, feeling the burn all the way down. “And if we’re not lucky?” he mumbled under his breath, a bad feeling rolling through the pit of his stomach that he was positive wasn’t the coffee.
“Okay, people,” the director’s voice rang out across the location, “we’re going hot on this one! Everybody ready?” Affirmative responses came from all over the set. “Chris … we good to go?”
Christian squared his shoulders and got into position. “Let’s do this thing!” he echoed his earlier comment to Steve.
The set went quiet and the call went up, “Places everyone and … Action!”
With a powerful rev of its engine the car began its journey. Christian counted down and started his run to position. Just before Christian and the car arrived at the point of impact, one of the large crates that were being used as set props tumbled off of its stack and crashed to the floor to Christian’s left and shattered. The impact and the sound startled Christian; he fell backwards to avoid any potential splinters and landed flat on his back. The car swerved off and skidded to a stop.
Crew members swarmed the area to check on Christian and the driver of the car. Both men waved off the extra attention and huddled together alone for a few moments. Whatever they said to each other was done in hushed tones with their heads close together but they finally waved over at the director and gave him a cocky thumbs up.
Steve slumped back in his chair as the call to re-set the scene went out. Taking another sip of coffee he tried to bring the trembling in his hands under control.
“He does tend to do bad things to your blood pressure, doesn’t he?” Timothy chuckled softly.
A chill streaked through Steve at Tim’s words and knowing tone. He and Christian were only just starting to figure things out. Had others come to the same conclusion as they had only before them? And, if so, what had given them away? None of their close friends in the entertainment industry would bat an eye if they knew about the developing relationship between them; it was Hollywood after all. But they had been wary of broadcasting anything before they were ready themselves. They also needed to make sure it wouldn’t reflect badly on them in the broader community of their chosen professions. Steve took a deep breath and cleared his throat before saying, “He sure does. I don’t know if I could watch him do this every day.” Thank god his voice sounded normal, at least to his own ears.
“He doesn’t - actually - do this every day,” Timothy smiled helpfully. “You just got lucky today.”
“You and I’ve got two different ideas on what ‘lucky’ is, man,” Steve snorted.
“Places!” the director called again, “And … Action!”
For Steve it was like he was watching everything in slow motion. He had no idea if anyone else had noticed but Christian’s stride was off from the beginning; he wasn’t moving nearly as smoothly as he had on the last take. Steve stood and sucked in a breath as Christian hit his mark and left his feet. Unfortunately, the shortening of his paces meant that instead of rolling through the stunt he bounced. His first impact was off of the hood of the car and his shoulder went through the windshield. The rest of the crew looked on horror struck as Christian flew off of the rapidly braking car and into a stand of metal barrels that were definitely not part of the set, nor were they constructed for safety. Christian hit them with a loud, clanging thump and slid to the floor, unmoving, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Complete stunned silence and inaction ruled the set in the wake of the accident until …
“CHRIS!!!” Steve screamed and flew across the area like a bat out of hell with Timothy and the set EMTs hot on his heels. He slid on his knees and came to a halt with his hands hovering over Christian not knowing if he should even attempt to touch him. A small pool of blood seeped from Christian’s head and Steve let out a howl of anguish as his stomach heaved.
Timothy reached over Steve’s shoulders and took the other man’s hands in his own. “Let the medics in, Steve. Let them do their jobs.” He gently pulled the unresisting man away giving the EMTs a chance to get in and make an assessment.
“An ambulance is on set and will be here in a moment,” the director informed the medics as they began to check over their patient.
The female EMT found where the bleeding was coming from and grabbed a sterile dressing pack to press against the wound. “Daniel, can you grab one of the neck braces. I want to get his head stabilized in case there’s spinal damage.”
“Coming right up, Sandy,” Daniel responded and handed her the requested item before settling in to take down vital signs. After a few minutes he said, “His pulse and respiration are good but it feels like he might be running a fever.”
“A … a cold,” Steve stammered quietly.
“What?” Daniel asked.
“Earlier, I thought he was coming down with a cold. He was sneezing a lot.”
Daniel nodded, “With the fever I’d lean more towards the flu. Thanks for the information …?”
“Uh, I’m Steve.”
The ambulance rolled in and pulled up as close as it could get. Sandy pulled the back open and reached in for a backboard. The EMTs rolled Christian carefully onto the backboard while the ambulance driver and his partner grabbed a gurney and brought it around. As Christian was gently placed on the stretcher and strapped into place, Daniel was on the radio passing along his vitals to the hospital that they’d be taking him to.
The stretcher was finally locked into place and they started to shut the doors, prepared to take off. Timothy pushed Steve over to the door and said, “Would it be okay if he rode along?”
“He family?” the driver asked.
“He’s the closest thing to family that Christian has here,” Timothy said earnestly.
The driver shook his head, “Sorry, immediate family members only. It’s going to be cramped enough back there as it is.” Steve looked positively stricken at the driver’s pronouncement.
Timothy ground his teeth in exasperation, “Are you taking him to County?”
“Yes, sir,” the driver responded and closed the doors. Seconds later, the vehicle was on it’s way.
“Steve?” Timothy put an arm around the shaken man’s shoulders. Steve’s eyes didn’t leave the ambulance until it was out of his line of sight. “Come on, Steve. I’ll take you to the hospital.” There was no response so Timothy took hold of Steve’s sleeve and just pulled him along towards his car. He called out to one of the assistants, “Can you let Dean and John know what’s happened? They should be in the offices. I’m taking Steve to County to wait for word on Chris.”
“Yes, sir,” the assistant responded immediately with his cell phone already in hand.
Tim took a quick look at his silent passenger as he braked the car to a stop at the umpteenth traffic light they had hit between the studio and the hospital. Steve had been frozen in the same position from the time Timothy carefully folded his lanky frame into the front seat and secured the seatbelt for him. He wasn’t sure if the other man was praying, thinking, or shutting down and going into shock. “You’re good for him, you know,” Tim said hoping to ease the tension.
Steve blinked. He slowly turned his head to look at Timothy and swallowed. “What?” he asked, his haunted blue eyes widening a fraction.
Tim sighed. Over the course of working together on the show he and Christian had become very good friends. Christian could be a moody bastard at times and Tim tried to find ways to reach out to him before he could let his formidable temper fly. They started to play chess on and off the set and Christian gifted him with a portable set where the pieces locked in place so the games could continue and travel with them anywhere. As time went on their conversations had gone deeper and Tim detected a subtle change in the way Christian spoke about Steve who was apparently becoming more than a band mate, writing partner, and long-time best friend. Tim also noticed that when Steve came up for visits - or Christian traveled to see him over their weekends off - Christian was always much more mellow and relaxed. Something Very Important was happening between them but the fact that they had not said anything to anyone led Tim to believe that they hadn’t quite taken that last step. Tim needed to find a way to let Steve know that he had another friend he could lean on until Christian was out of the woods. As they finally started moving again Tim repeated, “You’re good for him. We can all tell when he’s gotten the chance to spend some time with you.” Glancing once again to his right, Tim was encouraged to see Steve thinking about what he was saying. “I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me if you want to or need to.”
Steve nodded and drew in a deep, shaky breath, “Thanks, man. I appreciate that … a lot.” He rubbed a trembling hand across his face.
“You okay?” Tim smiled.
“I don’t know,” Steve responded honestly.
“I’ll take that,” Tim chuckled. “Listen, do you need to call anyone? I know you guys have - uh - had a show tonight at Dante’s.”
“Aw shit!” Steve fumbled his cell phone out of his jacket and promptly dropped it on the floorboards of the car. “Damn it!” he snarled and started feeling all around his feet as tiny sobs of fear and frustration tore from his throat.
Tim swore under his breath and eased the car out of traffic as soon as he could. Throwing it in park, he reached over and pulled Steve into a fierce hug. “Shhhh! I’ve got you … I’ve got you …”
Steve’s grip on Tim’s biceps was punishing but the older man rode it out as he continued to comfort his charge. It didn’t take long before the storm passed and Steve was sitting back up wiping at his tear ravaged face. “Better?” Tim asked with a wry smile.
An embarrassed flush stole across Steve’s face. “Um, yeah. Thanks, man.” Reaching down between his feet he finally recovered his errant cell phone and hit speed dial 3 as Tim eased them back into the flow of traffic. He closed his eyes as the connection was made, “Um - hi, Eric … It’s Steve. I’ve got some bad news …..”
>^..^<
Steve checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. Upon their arrival over an hour ago, he and Timothy had been informed that Christian had been rushed immediately for x-rays, a CAT scan, and an MRI before they were escorted to a private waiting room away from the prying eyes of the general public.
Dean Devlin and Eric Griffin stayed in constant contact with either Steve or Tim to get updates. Eric passed the news of Christian’s accident to the other band members and took care of canceling the band’s gigs for the foreseeable future. Dean smoothed the way at the hospital, ensuring that all necessary paperwork was taken care of along with setting Christian up in a private room for the duration of his stay.
A tired looking man wearing surgical scrubs sauntered into the room. “You guys here for Christian Kane?”
Timothy and Steve stood slowly with Tim easing a helping hand under the blonde’s elbow when his knees threatened to give out. “And you are?” Tim asked in return.
“Doctor Cameron. I’ll be taking care of your friend while he’s here.” He walked over and shook both their hands.
Steve cleared his throat, “So … how is he?”
“He’s going to be fine,” Doctor Cameron smiled reassuringly. “It’ll take a bit of time for things to heal up properly - and he does have a mild case of the flu on top of everything else. The worst of the damage is on his right side: Slight sprained ankle, bruised ribs and some muscle damage to his shoulder.”
“Probably from the impact with the windshield,” Tim speculated.
Cameron raised an eyebrow, “Should I even ask?”
“Stunt gone wrong,” Tim responded succinctly.
The doctor shook his head and continued, “As I was saying, he’s pretty much bruised all over and has a concussion. We’re going to want to keep him here at least overnight to monitor the head injury and begin an aggressive course of antibiotics to fight his flu. You should be able to take him home some time tomorrow or the next day as long as he takes it easy and someone is around who can stay with him.”
“I can do that,” Steve volunteered immediately. The guardedly good news had done wonders to restore his emotional equilibrium.
“Good to hear that, Mr. …?”
“Carlson. Steve Carlson.”
“Steve,” Doctor Cameron smiled. “And Mr. Hutton, I am a big fan.”
“Timothy or Tim, please,” he offered.
“Well, Christian should be in his room by now. I can take you there if you’d like.”
“Sure!” Steve responded, eager to see his friend again and confirm with his own eyes that he was going to be okay.
Christian was lying on his back, raised up slightly by the adjustable bed. His right shoulder was mottled and already starting to show signs of heavy bruising. It was easy to see that once the black and blue marks came out they would be spectacular and very painful. “When he’s resting at home, you’ll want to keep him propped up with pillows or something until the inflammation goes down around his ribs,” Doctor Cameron explained in a voice just louder than a whisper.
“What else?” Steve asked just as quietly as he approached the bed for a closer look.
Cameron eased the bedding down to Christian’s waist. There were bandages wrapped around his ribcage and the doctor took Steve’s hand to show him how tightly they were wound. “When he takes a bath - no showers until the swelling goes down on that ankle - you’ll need to put this gear back on him. Try to keep the tension at about this level. It’s snug but will prevent him from doing any more damage to the tissue surrounding the ribs. I’ll also leave a sling for him to wear when his shoulder becomes too painful. He’s not going to want to move it around in any case since that will aggravate his ribs as well. The ankle is a minor sprain. Ice it and keep it elevated as much as possible. Let him walk around on it. He’ll know when he’s had enough. If he has any trouble breathing, any sharp pains, get him back here immediately. The x-rays didn’t show any cracks or breaks but sometimes hairline fractures are so small they might not show up and you don’t want to risk a punctured lung.”
Steve’s head was spinning but he carefully filed everything away mentally for later. He was calculating the degree of bruising he could see and ouched silently for his friend. “Is there anything I should pick up for him? Advil? Motrin?”
“Oops! Almost forgot!” Cameron grinned sheepishly. “I was going to leave his prescriptions at the desk for when you sign him out but I might as well give them to you so you can get them filled right away. I’ll also give you my beeper number in case you have any questions or need to bring him back in. Anything else?”
“The head injury,” Tim spoke up. “Are there going to be any - uh - lingering issues we should look out for? … Headaches … Memory loss? …”
“We won’t know for sure until he wakes up and we can evaluate his responses and pain levels. If there is memory loss, let him try to muddle through and remember on his own. It will undoubtedly be frustrating for him and for you but it’s the only way we’ll be able to figure out the full extent, if any, of the damage.” Steve visibly paled at the thought of Christian having to go through any of that. Cameron noticed and touched him lightly on the arm, “Steve, are you all right? Need to sit down?”
“It’s all a bit much to take in, you know?” Steve shook his head. “But I’m okay … I think.”
“Hey, buddy,” Tim slung an arm across Steve’s shoulder, “you know you can call on any of us to help you out if you need it, right?” Steve smiled gratefully and nodded.
“And that beeper number will reach me 24/7,” Cameron added holding a few pieces of paper out.
Steve nodded taking the prescriptions and the doctor’s card, shoving them into his wallet. “I guess all we can do now is wait for him to decide to wake up? … ”
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/97224.html