FIC: Between You And Me 2/5
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.
Carly was true to her word and checked in with Steve every so often to see if he needed anything. He even managed a chicken sandwich and a cup of fairly decent coffee under her watchful eye. She had a more comfortable chair brought in for him to use that semi-reclined and provided him with a blanket and pillow to help him try to get some sleep while he waited.
Surprisingly enough, with a full belly and the warmth of the blanket, Steve finally drifted off but he started awake suddenly and blinked as he looked around the room trying to figure out what had woken him. A low moan from the bed had him bolting upright out of his chair and leaning over Christian’s twitching body. “C - Chris?” he asked hesitantly.
Two hazy blue eyes blinked open and slid shut again. Christian shifted position slightly and moaned again. Only one eye opened this time, unfocused and clearly showing pain. “Are you gonna stare at my corpse all damn day?” he rasped and regretted it immediately as his dry throat seized and sent him into a coughing fit. He curled himself in around his aching ribs, “Aw fuck!” he whimpered and went absolutely still.
Steve reached for the pitcher of water on the stand next to the bed and poured out a half cup full. He gently supported Christian’s head - avoiding the bandage covering the stitches he’d needed - so he could take a few sips without moving around too much. “Better?” he asked lowering Christian back to the pillows.
“Yeah. Thanks, man,” Christian whispered.
“I hate to tell you this, Chris, but you look like shit,” Steve said taking in skin so pale it was almost translucent in the harsh hospital lighting and the bruises which were standing out in stark contrast.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Carlson,” came the snarled response. “When can I get the fuck out of here?”
“Not for at least another day depending on how the doc says you’re doing. He’s gonna want to run a few tests. Figure out just how much damage you did now that you’re awake to answer some questions. And then there’s the fact that you picked up that flu bug that’s been going around so they have you plugged into some powerful antibiotics to help you kick it’s ass.” Steve found the call button and reached over to press it to let someone know that Christian was awake.
“Huh,” Christian grunted. “So when’re y’all gonna tell me what the hell happened?”
“Now, now, Mr. Kane,” Doctor Cameron swept into the room. “I asked Steve to let you try to remember on your own. How else are we going to know what’s going on inside that head of yours?”
Even in pain, Christian managed one of his blue death ray glares at the newcomer. “How the fuck am I supposed to know if I’ve forgotten something if I don’t know what the hell it is I’m supposed to remember that I’ve forgotten?” he growled.
Cameron suppressed the smirk he could feel fighting to escape his lips. He had a feeling that his patient would not appreciate humor at the moment. Steve stepped in to defuse the brewing explosion, “C’mon, Chris, be nice to the doc or he just might stick a few things where you’d rather not have them stuck.” He waggled his eyebrows with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Christian grumbled but nodded to the doctor, “Sorry, man. I just … I don’t do hospitals very well.” Steve snorted and received a scowl of his own. “Watch it, Carlson.” He turned his attention back to Cameron, “So what’s the bad news?”
As Doctor Cameron ran down the list of injuries one more time, Steve unconsciously let his hand drift down Christian’s uninjured left arm, being careful not to dislodge any of the IV lines. He stopped and tangled his fingers with Christian’s giving a gentle squeeze only to step back in shock when his own hand was dropped as if Christian had been burned. Steve looked down to see a ‘what the fuck’ snarl aimed in his direction and suddenly the walls of the room closed in on him. He choked and stumbled towards the door.
“Steve?” Doctor Cameron asked in concern; he’d missed the entire silent exchange between the two men.
“Need air,” Steve gasped, pushing through the door and running down the hallway to the nearest men’s room.
Steve was so intent on getting into the bathroom he didn’t see John Rogers and Eric Griffin heading towards Christian’s room. The two men looked at each other and split up with John hustling in Christian’s direction and Eric swerving into the men’s room after Steve.
After seeing the expression on Steve’s face, John wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered Christian’s room. Relief washed over him at the sight of his moody actor answering questions and submitting quietly - if a little grumpily - to the doctor poking and prodding at him.
“Hey, John,” Christian offered in a tired sounding voice. He canted his head to one side like he was expecting to see someone standing behind John and a look of disappointment flashed across his face.
“Christian,” John responded warmly and shook hands with the doctor. “Hi ya, doc, I’m John Rogers. Christian works for us on Leverage.”
“Hello, John, I’m Doctor Cameron.” The doctor made sure his patient was lying back comfortably on the bed and steered John towards the door so they could speak quietly and allow Christian to drift off to sleep if he was ready. “He’s going to be okay, John. It’s just gonna take some time for everything to stop barking at him. I have to ask you, did you see Steve Carlson on your way in here?”
“Yeah. He looked pretty shook up. I didn’t know what I was going to find when I walked in here.”
“Damn! I was afraid of that. I was telling them how to deal with Christian’s injuries after his release and the next thing I know he was bolting for the door claiming to need air. I have no idea what happened. I should have gone after him; made sure he was all right.”
John looked over to the bed. Christian had indeed succumbed to sleep again. His legs moved a little restlessly under the blankets and his face was lined in pain. “I came in with Eric Griffin. He’s their band manager. He went after Steve when I came in here. Hopefully he’ll be able to get something out of Steve. In the meantime, what can you tell me about Chris?”
Cameron rubbed his hand across his tired eyes and prepared to go over the list again; he briefly wondered if he should just go ahead and record it in case anyone else was going to want to hear it.
Eric eased the restroom door open slowly, not wanting to startle Steve if he was just on the other side. He needn’t have worried, though, as he could hear the sounds of retching coming from behind a closed stall door. “Jesus,” he whispered and closed the door making sure to lock it so no one else could wander in on them. Grabbing a handful paper towels he ran them under cold water and then perched himself on the counter.
He didn’t have long to wait before the sound of the toilet flushing was followed by Steve’s unsteady emergence from the cubicle. “Hey, Steve,” Eric said quietly, not wanting to spook the blond.
“Eric,” Steve responded dully and slid down the nearest wall until he was sitting on the floor.
Grabbing and wetting more paper towels, Eric knelt next to his guitarist and pressed one handful to the back of his neck and used the other to wipe down his face. “How ya doing, buddy?”
“Just peachy, Eric,” Steve responded with an uncharacteristic biting sarcasm. Almost immediately he squeezed his eyes shut and smacked his head back into the wall. “Sorry, dude. You didn’t deserve that,” he apologized.
Eric waved him off. “Talk to me, man. What’s wrong? Is it Chris?”
Steve shook his head. “Doc says Chris is gonna be fine … in time. He just … he’s forgotten some … stuff. I thought maybe the accident … I wasn’t expecting … Fuck! … Fuck! … Fuck!” He punched his own thigh.
“Steve … Steve … tell me what you need,” Eric tried to calm his friend down. “What can I do to help?”
Tilting his head back against the wall, Steve was unaware of the solitary tear that streaked down his cheek. Taking a deep breath he said, “I need to get back to the house. I have to do some stuff before the doc releases him. Get the house ready. Make sure we have food in ‘cause I’m not going to want to go out again until he’s feeling better.” Steve stood on shaky legs and started for the door.
“You need a ride or some help?”
“It all depends on whether Tim is back yet. He went to the set to grab our stuff from the trailer. I don’t know how long he’s been gone. He said he’d drive me if I wanted since Chris drove us to the set this morning.”
Eric reached the door first and unlocked it. “Let’s go see if we can find him. If not, I can take you …” he paused at the brief look of panic that crossed Steve’s face, “… or we can get you a cab if you’re determined to do this on your own.” Eric opened the door and ushered Steve through first.
Doctor Cameron was just exiting Christian’s room and he zeroed in on Steve like a heat seeking missile. “Steve?” he asked noting the pale complexion and less than steady walk, “You okay, man?”
Steve looked from the doctor to Christian’s room, “He okay?” he pointedly ignored the question directed at himself.
“He’s fine,” Cameron responded. “I’m a little worried about you.”
Eric waved him off. “Has Tim Hutton gone back to Christian’s room yet?” he asked.
“No. I would be right here,” Tim’s voice came from behind them. “Just got back with Christian and Steve’s stuff from the trailer. It’s in my car.”
Eric reached out to Steve, “You ready to go? Or did you want to see Chris before you left?”
“Christian’s asleep,” Cameron supplied. “John is keeping him company.”
“Can I see him?” Steve sounded like a little kid asking about a favorite toy.
When Doctor Cameron nodded, Eric wrapped his hand around Steve’s arm. “Why don’t you go with the doc and tell John that I’ll stay with Christian tonight in case he needs anything. Okay?”
Steve nodded and followed the doctor back down the hall.
Eric motioned Timothy a little further away from the room and said, “Steve flipped out a little earlier. Something happened in Christian’s room that he hasn’t told anyone about yet. Keep an eye on him, would you? You know how to get in touch with me.”
“I think I might be able to get him to talk once we’re away from here. I’ll stay with him at the house tonight and bring him back tomorrow.” Tim reached out to lay a hand on Eric’s shoulder, “We’ll get them both through this.”
“Thanks, Tim,” Eric responded. “Call me,” he said meaningfully and headed to Christian’s room just as Doctor Cameron returned with Steve.
“Will do,” Tim said and took over to guide Steve to the parked car.
>^..^<
The house Christian used while they were filming was a four-bedroom single story ranch style house in Portland’s waterfront district. Close enough to both the city and the studio but still outside the every day hustle and bustle. The back of the house was right on the river with a large wooden deck complete with a hot tub and bricked in area for outdoor barbecues. One of the bedrooms had been converted into a mini recording studio, which allowed Chris - and any other band members who happened to be there - a place where they could work on new music when they were in town. It wasn’t unusual for any of them to stay with Christian rather than book into anonymous hotel rooms for the duration of their stay.
Tim pulled smoothly into the driveway, parking next to Steve’s rental car. The drive had been quiet but comfortable and Steve was pretty much a slumped puddle in the passenger seat. The lack of motion roused him from his semi-stupor and he fumbled the house keys out of his pocket as he pushed the car door open. On the way in, he pulled the day’s mail out of the box and dumped it in the basket that had been set up on the entryway table just for that purpose. He’d go through it later and weed out the junk but for now he had a purpose and somewhat of a limited time to do it.
“Come on in and make yourself at home, Tim,” Steve invited his houseguest as he removed his jacket and offered to hang Tim’s up for him.
“So, Steve … why don’t you tell me what needs to be done and let’s get started,” Timothy wanted to get to the bottom of what had rattled his host so badly at the hospital but didn’t want to push him too quickly.
“Um … why don’t you head into the kitchen and see what we have in there. I have a feeling we’ll need to make a grocery run to stock up on just about everything. I’m gonna head back to the bedroom. I need to do some clean up in there and pack a bag for when Chris comes home.” Steve headed down the hall towards the back of the house.
Timothy raised his eyebrow at the singular use of the word bedroom. Maybe things had progressed farther than he originally thought. But it was encouraging that Steve didn’t think twice about revealing yet another little glimpse into the personal lives of the two men. He glanced towards the kitchen, shrugged, and headed down the hall in Steve’s wake.
The door to the bedroom was half closed and Timothy could hear the sound of hitched breathing coming from the other side. Pushing gently he swung the door open and found Steve on his knees next to the bed trying hard to keep himself from being overheard. Something alerted the distraught man and he looked up, wide-eyed, and tried to pull himself together. “Hey … stop it. It’s me, Steve, no need to cover up. Okay?”
Steve nodded and wiped his eyes. “This - uh - despite how this looks, it’s not what you think it is.”
Leaning just inside the doorway, Tim said, “Then why don’t you tell me what it is.”
“I won’t lie to you,” Steve shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor. “We were headed in that direction. We almost jumped the gun today in the trailer,” he rasped and his voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued, “We’re pretty sure no one is gonna give a crap over this but we want to be certain we each know what we’re getting into and that we’re both comfortable with how we’re going to - if we’re gonna present ChrisAndSteve to people. Regardless of the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude he shows the world, it’s taken Chris a while to get comfortable with everything involved because of his background. His family’s terrific; don’t get me wrong. His mom, dad, sister … they’ve already welcomed me into the family with open arms. The extended families might not understand and family is so important to both of us.
“We were supposed to take a couple days off once filming ended - before we hit the road for the radio tour - and work things out. Just us. When I got here a couple of days ago, Chris hadn’t even had the spare room made up for me. He just carried my bags in here and told me in no uncertain terms that we were gonna be sharing the bed. No sex. Not until after we talked. So we’ve been sleeping together since I got here. It’s been really nice to wake up with him wrapped around me, you know? But then the filming kept getting pushed back and pushed back and ‘the talk’ got put off again and again. He wanted to make sure he was rested and relaxed so he could focus completely on the conversation so that there would be no questions about what we each wanted. We’ve been friends for so long we didn’t want to screw that up by jumping in the sack and going at it like minks in heat. There’s too much at stake for that.”
“I get that. And it’s a sound plan, a good idea. Are you ready to tell me what happened in the hospital that got you so shook up?”
Steve swallowed hard and tears threatened once again. “Damn it!” he swore and wiped his eyes. “Sorry; I’m not usually this ‘girly’.” Tim waved off the apology and motioned for Steve to continue. Steve nodded and said, “When the doc was talking to Chris, I unconsciously reached down to take his hand in mine. Nothing overt but Chris practically threw my hand away from him and the look he gave me … Jesus! It was one of those ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ glares he’s so good at.”
“Oh boy,” Tim sighed; he knew that look all too well.
“More than that,” Steve continued, “I could see it in his eyes … he had no idea why I’d done what I did. He’s forgotten about us!” Steve stood abruptly and started pulling open dresser drawers to empty out half of their contents. “I have to get my stuff out of this room before the doc sends him home.”
“So you’re gonna what?” Tim asked. “Pretend that the two of you aren’t anything more than friends?”
“I won’t push him to remember!” Steve shouted. “I won’t,” he repeated quietly, brokenly.
“No matter that it’s going to kill you inside?” Tim said softly.
“If it’s meant to be he’ll remember,” Steve whispered and took an armful of his clothes in to the room next door never seeing the look of pain that crossed Timothy’s face at the thought of what was at risk here.
Once the bedroom had been put to rights, including fresh sheets and extra pillows on the bed, Steve and Timothy tackled the kitchen. Steve went through the pantry, freezer, and refrigerator calling out what they’d need to pick up at the store while Tim scribbled down the items and added a few of his own for himself and Steve for later that night.
“Hey, Steve,” Tim interjected when it looked like the other man was done with his list, “is there somewhere we can get Christian’s prescriptions filled while we’re out?”
“Um … yeah,” Steve scanned the notes posted on the refrigerator door and pulled one off. “Chris usually goes through the pharmacy inside the grocery store. There’s an ATM as well. I’m gonna need cash for all this stuff.”
Tim took the paper with the phone number of the pharmacy. “I’ll call these in so they should be ready by the time we get there.”
“Cool! Thanks, man! I’ll make sure the other guest room is ready for you and start putting some stuff together for Christian.” With that, the human whirlwind known as Steve bustled out of the kitchen and back down the hall.
=^..^=
Eric looked up from the puzzle book he was working on as his charge shifted in the bed yet again and groaned when his injuries protested the movement. After his last violent coughing fit had left Christian breathless to the point his lips were blue, Dr. Cameron had put him on a mist therapy treatment to help ease his lungs and upped his pain meds to knock him out. He was also provided with a body pillow to use as a cushion for his ribs. The coughing spasms had finally eased and Christian was wrapped around the pillow like it was an overlarge teddy bear but the damage had been done and his body was none to happy with the aftermath.
“St - St - Steve?” the word was the barest whisper but Eric heard it and saw two bleary blue eyes gazing back at him.
“Easy does it, tough guy,” Eric moved closer to the bed. “You want some water?” Christian licked his dry lips and nodded slightly; even that small motion produced a whimper of pain. Eric filled a plastic cup and stuck a straw in it before raising the shaggy head off of the pillow. “Take it slow. Don’t want you tossing it back at me.”
Chris only took a couple of sips before he spat the straw back out and eased his head down. “Thanks, man.” There was a brief pause before the question was asked again, “Steve? … Here?”
“Tim took him to the house a couple hours ago.”
A flash of disappointment crossed the stubbled face but was quickly replaced by concern, “He okay?”
“He’s tired … A little freaked out. Tim’s gonna stay with him tonight and bring him back tomorrow.”
“Tim’s … good guy,” Chris slurred and his eyes drooped closed again.
“That he is,” Eric agreed as Christian slipped back into an uneasy sleep.
=^..^=
Tim had no idea how Steve had gotten the reputation of being this laid back, easy going, mellow guy after watching him in action all afternoon. After packing a duffle for Christian, he hustled them out the door to the grocery store. Picking up the cash he needed, Christian’s prescriptions, and the actual food shopping were handled with a precision and sense of urgency that would have made a drill sergeant weep with pride. All Tim could do was stand back and let him go for fear of being run over in the process.
Once they arrived back home, everything was put away and Steve settled in to cook dinner for the two of them. Both Steve and Christian enjoyed cooking, especially when they were doing it for other people, and the cast and crew of Leverage had benefited from their culinary expertise on more than one occasion.
Tonight Steve kept it relatively simple with spaghetti but he did make his own meat sauce rather than relying on anything from a jar or a can. They had picked up a fresh loaf of French bread and the makings for a salad to round out the meal. After Tim had helped stow the groceries and other supplies, he retired to the entertainment room to do some channel surfing and leave Steve to his creation.
Tim was exhausted just trying to keep a watchful eye on Steve. Once dinner was over Steve had pushed him back into the entertainment room and tackled the clean up on his own. He figured that as soon as the other man actually stopped moving it wouldn’t take long before he would collapse and be down for the count and he had no qualms about helping that process along. While Steve had picked up Christian’s prescriptions, Tim had ambled over to the liquor section of the store and invested in a bottle of fine whiskey that he was prepared to put to good use in helping to relax his charge.
Steve appeared in the doorway with a damp dishtowel draped over his shoulder. “I’m just about done in here. Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope,” Tim responded. “Why don’t you finish up and come chill out for a little while.”
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Steve nodded and disappeared again.
By the time he returned, Tim had the whiskey out and the drinks poured. He had also teed up a movie in the DVD player. “Here you go,” he said and offered one of the glasses to Steve. “I figured you could use this after today.”
Steve took a sip as he collapsed into one of the recliners and savored the burn all the way down. “Oh, yeah. That works,” he sighed and kicked his shoes off to wiggle his socked toes.
Tim cleared his throat, “Listen. I called the hospital. Christian is doing fine. Eric said he’s finished the first round of antibiotics and started on the second. He’s also out for the night and sleeping as comfortably as he can. Dr. Cameron is guardedly optimistic that you’ll be able to bring him home tomorrow if you’re sure you’re ready.”
“I - uh …” Steve bit his lip and twirled the glass between his fingers. “I guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll do one more check on his room tomorrow and make sure I’ve got everything packed he’s gonna need before we head over there.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant, man. I told you before, I’m not gonna push him. He’ll either remember on his own or we go from here and see what happens in the future.” Steve finished his drink in one swallow and reached for the bottle. “You mind?”
“I got it for us for tonight. Be my guest,” Tim nodded. “I also got pistachio ice cream for later, too, if you’re interested.”
Steve chuckled, “How much later?” he bounced his eyebrows good-naturedly.
“How about after we watch James Bond kick a little ass?”
“Cool! Which one?”
“The new Casino Royale with Daniel Craig sound good?”
“Yeah! I liked that one. He knocked it out of the park first time out. I’ve been wanting to see it again.”
“All right,” Tim smiled and pressed play.
Steve never made it to the pistachio ice cream. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth whiskey, his head tipped to one side and quiet snores issued from his throat.
“Finally,” Tim smiled and rescued the nearly empty glass from the long, lax fingers resting on the arm of the recliner.
Tim allowed the movie to play out making sure that Steve was indeed done for the night. Once he had put the DVD away, shut down the entertainment center, and cleaned up the bottle and the glasses, he retrieved a pillow and blankets from Steve’s bed and made the younger man as comfortable as he could in the recliner. There would be no sense in waking him up just to have him move to a bed and there was guarantee that he’d even go back to sleep if he woke up.
Knowing that the next day could wind up as stressful as the one they’d just gone through, Tim finished tidying up and headed to bed himself.
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
The next morning started out almost as hectic as the previous afternoon had been. Tsunami Steve was up, showered, and prepping for breakfast before Tim even cracked his eyes open. The fresh smell of really good coffee tickled his nostrils and teased him gently awake and he stumbled out to the kitchen.
“You’re up!” Steve chirped and held out a large mug.
“If you say so,” Tim mumbled and practically inhaled half of the coffee in one go. “Ooooh … this is fantastic!” he commended.
“You like it?” Steve grinned. “It’s a special blend. A friend of mine in Maui keeps me supplied. It’s one of Christian’s favorites.
“I can see why,” Tim ambled over and topped off his cup. “You look better this morning,” he observed. “How long have you been up?”
Steve glanced at the clock, “Only about an hour or so … Hey! Thanks for not waking me up after I passed out last night. I slept all the way through.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Tim nodded.
“You like omelettes?” Steve asked as he held up a carton of eggs.
“Um … sure,” Tim responded.
“Omelettes it is!” Steve started pulling out what he’d need and settled in to the very familiar motions of whipping up another tasty meal.
The house was quiet when Tim opened the door to his guest room after he showered and changed clothes. He grabbed the overnight bag that he’d brought with him from the set the day before and started down the hall. Catching sight of Steve sitting on the side of the bed in his own guest bedroom, Tim turned in to see if he needed any help.
“Hey, Tim,” Steve piped up cheerfully despite the evidence of unshed moisture in his tired blue eyes.
“Steve … what’s up?” Timothy asked casually.
“It’s a good thing I made one final sweep through Christian’s room. Can you imagine if he’d found this?” the blond held out a 5 x 7 framed photo.
Timothy took the picture and couldn’t help the low whistle that escaped when he saw the shot. He remembered the day it was taken very well. Steve had been on set visiting and he and Christian started mock battling in a parody of a complicated fight sequence that Christian and the other stunt performers had nailed on the first take. While everyone else was practically rolling on the floor laughing at their antics, Beth was busy with her ever present camera capturing the moments of hilarity for posterity.
The photo Tim was holding had been snapped just as Christian was helping Steve back to his feet after their impromptu wrestling match. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists as they propped each other up and gasped with laughter. Their eyes were locked and the looks of deep affection shone brightly from both of them. Tim sighed and handed the picture back. “You ready to go get him and bring him home?”
“Just one second,” Steve grabbed a duffle bag off of the floor and checked the contents one last time. “I packed the softest, loosest clothes I could find. I didn’t figure he’d be wanting anything too snug that might put pressure on those scrapes and bruises.” He pawed down to the bottom. “Heavy socks, rubber soled moccasins, fingerless gloves and a wool cap. I already put a blanket and pillows in the back of your car so he can get comfy on the drive back.”
“All right, then,” Timothy rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go rescue us a Kane.”
Steve burst out laughing as he followed the older man out to the car.
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/96812.html
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/97476.html
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.
Carly was true to her word and checked in with Steve every so often to see if he needed anything. He even managed a chicken sandwich and a cup of fairly decent coffee under her watchful eye. She had a more comfortable chair brought in for him to use that semi-reclined and provided him with a blanket and pillow to help him try to get some sleep while he waited.
Surprisingly enough, with a full belly and the warmth of the blanket, Steve finally drifted off but he started awake suddenly and blinked as he looked around the room trying to figure out what had woken him. A low moan from the bed had him bolting upright out of his chair and leaning over Christian’s twitching body. “C - Chris?” he asked hesitantly.
Two hazy blue eyes blinked open and slid shut again. Christian shifted position slightly and moaned again. Only one eye opened this time, unfocused and clearly showing pain. “Are you gonna stare at my corpse all damn day?” he rasped and regretted it immediately as his dry throat seized and sent him into a coughing fit. He curled himself in around his aching ribs, “Aw fuck!” he whimpered and went absolutely still.
Steve reached for the pitcher of water on the stand next to the bed and poured out a half cup full. He gently supported Christian’s head - avoiding the bandage covering the stitches he’d needed - so he could take a few sips without moving around too much. “Better?” he asked lowering Christian back to the pillows.
“Yeah. Thanks, man,” Christian whispered.
“I hate to tell you this, Chris, but you look like shit,” Steve said taking in skin so pale it was almost translucent in the harsh hospital lighting and the bruises which were standing out in stark contrast.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Carlson,” came the snarled response. “When can I get the fuck out of here?”
“Not for at least another day depending on how the doc says you’re doing. He’s gonna want to run a few tests. Figure out just how much damage you did now that you’re awake to answer some questions. And then there’s the fact that you picked up that flu bug that’s been going around so they have you plugged into some powerful antibiotics to help you kick it’s ass.” Steve found the call button and reached over to press it to let someone know that Christian was awake.
“Huh,” Christian grunted. “So when’re y’all gonna tell me what the hell happened?”
“Now, now, Mr. Kane,” Doctor Cameron swept into the room. “I asked Steve to let you try to remember on your own. How else are we going to know what’s going on inside that head of yours?”
Even in pain, Christian managed one of his blue death ray glares at the newcomer. “How the fuck am I supposed to know if I’ve forgotten something if I don’t know what the hell it is I’m supposed to remember that I’ve forgotten?” he growled.
Cameron suppressed the smirk he could feel fighting to escape his lips. He had a feeling that his patient would not appreciate humor at the moment. Steve stepped in to defuse the brewing explosion, “C’mon, Chris, be nice to the doc or he just might stick a few things where you’d rather not have them stuck.” He waggled his eyebrows with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Christian grumbled but nodded to the doctor, “Sorry, man. I just … I don’t do hospitals very well.” Steve snorted and received a scowl of his own. “Watch it, Carlson.” He turned his attention back to Cameron, “So what’s the bad news?”
As Doctor Cameron ran down the list of injuries one more time, Steve unconsciously let his hand drift down Christian’s uninjured left arm, being careful not to dislodge any of the IV lines. He stopped and tangled his fingers with Christian’s giving a gentle squeeze only to step back in shock when his own hand was dropped as if Christian had been burned. Steve looked down to see a ‘what the fuck’ snarl aimed in his direction and suddenly the walls of the room closed in on him. He choked and stumbled towards the door.
“Steve?” Doctor Cameron asked in concern; he’d missed the entire silent exchange between the two men.
“Need air,” Steve gasped, pushing through the door and running down the hallway to the nearest men’s room.
Steve was so intent on getting into the bathroom he didn’t see John Rogers and Eric Griffin heading towards Christian’s room. The two men looked at each other and split up with John hustling in Christian’s direction and Eric swerving into the men’s room after Steve.
After seeing the expression on Steve’s face, John wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered Christian’s room. Relief washed over him at the sight of his moody actor answering questions and submitting quietly - if a little grumpily - to the doctor poking and prodding at him.
“Hey, John,” Christian offered in a tired sounding voice. He canted his head to one side like he was expecting to see someone standing behind John and a look of disappointment flashed across his face.
“Christian,” John responded warmly and shook hands with the doctor. “Hi ya, doc, I’m John Rogers. Christian works for us on Leverage.”
“Hello, John, I’m Doctor Cameron.” The doctor made sure his patient was lying back comfortably on the bed and steered John towards the door so they could speak quietly and allow Christian to drift off to sleep if he was ready. “He’s going to be okay, John. It’s just gonna take some time for everything to stop barking at him. I have to ask you, did you see Steve Carlson on your way in here?”
“Yeah. He looked pretty shook up. I didn’t know what I was going to find when I walked in here.”
“Damn! I was afraid of that. I was telling them how to deal with Christian’s injuries after his release and the next thing I know he was bolting for the door claiming to need air. I have no idea what happened. I should have gone after him; made sure he was all right.”
John looked over to the bed. Christian had indeed succumbed to sleep again. His legs moved a little restlessly under the blankets and his face was lined in pain. “I came in with Eric Griffin. He’s their band manager. He went after Steve when I came in here. Hopefully he’ll be able to get something out of Steve. In the meantime, what can you tell me about Chris?”
Cameron rubbed his hand across his tired eyes and prepared to go over the list again; he briefly wondered if he should just go ahead and record it in case anyone else was going to want to hear it.
Eric eased the restroom door open slowly, not wanting to startle Steve if he was just on the other side. He needn’t have worried, though, as he could hear the sounds of retching coming from behind a closed stall door. “Jesus,” he whispered and closed the door making sure to lock it so no one else could wander in on them. Grabbing a handful paper towels he ran them under cold water and then perched himself on the counter.
He didn’t have long to wait before the sound of the toilet flushing was followed by Steve’s unsteady emergence from the cubicle. “Hey, Steve,” Eric said quietly, not wanting to spook the blond.
“Eric,” Steve responded dully and slid down the nearest wall until he was sitting on the floor.
Grabbing and wetting more paper towels, Eric knelt next to his guitarist and pressed one handful to the back of his neck and used the other to wipe down his face. “How ya doing, buddy?”
“Just peachy, Eric,” Steve responded with an uncharacteristic biting sarcasm. Almost immediately he squeezed his eyes shut and smacked his head back into the wall. “Sorry, dude. You didn’t deserve that,” he apologized.
Eric waved him off. “Talk to me, man. What’s wrong? Is it Chris?”
Steve shook his head. “Doc says Chris is gonna be fine … in time. He just … he’s forgotten some … stuff. I thought maybe the accident … I wasn’t expecting … Fuck! … Fuck! … Fuck!” He punched his own thigh.
“Steve … Steve … tell me what you need,” Eric tried to calm his friend down. “What can I do to help?”
Tilting his head back against the wall, Steve was unaware of the solitary tear that streaked down his cheek. Taking a deep breath he said, “I need to get back to the house. I have to do some stuff before the doc releases him. Get the house ready. Make sure we have food in ‘cause I’m not going to want to go out again until he’s feeling better.” Steve stood on shaky legs and started for the door.
“You need a ride or some help?”
“It all depends on whether Tim is back yet. He went to the set to grab our stuff from the trailer. I don’t know how long he’s been gone. He said he’d drive me if I wanted since Chris drove us to the set this morning.”
Eric reached the door first and unlocked it. “Let’s go see if we can find him. If not, I can take you …” he paused at the brief look of panic that crossed Steve’s face, “… or we can get you a cab if you’re determined to do this on your own.” Eric opened the door and ushered Steve through first.
Doctor Cameron was just exiting Christian’s room and he zeroed in on Steve like a heat seeking missile. “Steve?” he asked noting the pale complexion and less than steady walk, “You okay, man?”
Steve looked from the doctor to Christian’s room, “He okay?” he pointedly ignored the question directed at himself.
“He’s fine,” Cameron responded. “I’m a little worried about you.”
Eric waved him off. “Has Tim Hutton gone back to Christian’s room yet?” he asked.
“No. I would be right here,” Tim’s voice came from behind them. “Just got back with Christian and Steve’s stuff from the trailer. It’s in my car.”
Eric reached out to Steve, “You ready to go? Or did you want to see Chris before you left?”
“Christian’s asleep,” Cameron supplied. “John is keeping him company.”
“Can I see him?” Steve sounded like a little kid asking about a favorite toy.
When Doctor Cameron nodded, Eric wrapped his hand around Steve’s arm. “Why don’t you go with the doc and tell John that I’ll stay with Christian tonight in case he needs anything. Okay?”
Steve nodded and followed the doctor back down the hall.
Eric motioned Timothy a little further away from the room and said, “Steve flipped out a little earlier. Something happened in Christian’s room that he hasn’t told anyone about yet. Keep an eye on him, would you? You know how to get in touch with me.”
“I think I might be able to get him to talk once we’re away from here. I’ll stay with him at the house tonight and bring him back tomorrow.” Tim reached out to lay a hand on Eric’s shoulder, “We’ll get them both through this.”
“Thanks, Tim,” Eric responded. “Call me,” he said meaningfully and headed to Christian’s room just as Doctor Cameron returned with Steve.
“Will do,” Tim said and took over to guide Steve to the parked car.
>^..^<
The house Christian used while they were filming was a four-bedroom single story ranch style house in Portland’s waterfront district. Close enough to both the city and the studio but still outside the every day hustle and bustle. The back of the house was right on the river with a large wooden deck complete with a hot tub and bricked in area for outdoor barbecues. One of the bedrooms had been converted into a mini recording studio, which allowed Chris - and any other band members who happened to be there - a place where they could work on new music when they were in town. It wasn’t unusual for any of them to stay with Christian rather than book into anonymous hotel rooms for the duration of their stay.
Tim pulled smoothly into the driveway, parking next to Steve’s rental car. The drive had been quiet but comfortable and Steve was pretty much a slumped puddle in the passenger seat. The lack of motion roused him from his semi-stupor and he fumbled the house keys out of his pocket as he pushed the car door open. On the way in, he pulled the day’s mail out of the box and dumped it in the basket that had been set up on the entryway table just for that purpose. He’d go through it later and weed out the junk but for now he had a purpose and somewhat of a limited time to do it.
“Come on in and make yourself at home, Tim,” Steve invited his houseguest as he removed his jacket and offered to hang Tim’s up for him.
“So, Steve … why don’t you tell me what needs to be done and let’s get started,” Timothy wanted to get to the bottom of what had rattled his host so badly at the hospital but didn’t want to push him too quickly.
“Um … why don’t you head into the kitchen and see what we have in there. I have a feeling we’ll need to make a grocery run to stock up on just about everything. I’m gonna head back to the bedroom. I need to do some clean up in there and pack a bag for when Chris comes home.” Steve headed down the hall towards the back of the house.
Timothy raised his eyebrow at the singular use of the word bedroom. Maybe things had progressed farther than he originally thought. But it was encouraging that Steve didn’t think twice about revealing yet another little glimpse into the personal lives of the two men. He glanced towards the kitchen, shrugged, and headed down the hall in Steve’s wake.
The door to the bedroom was half closed and Timothy could hear the sound of hitched breathing coming from the other side. Pushing gently he swung the door open and found Steve on his knees next to the bed trying hard to keep himself from being overheard. Something alerted the distraught man and he looked up, wide-eyed, and tried to pull himself together. “Hey … stop it. It’s me, Steve, no need to cover up. Okay?”
Steve nodded and wiped his eyes. “This - uh - despite how this looks, it’s not what you think it is.”
Leaning just inside the doorway, Tim said, “Then why don’t you tell me what it is.”
“I won’t lie to you,” Steve shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor. “We were headed in that direction. We almost jumped the gun today in the trailer,” he rasped and his voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued, “We’re pretty sure no one is gonna give a crap over this but we want to be certain we each know what we’re getting into and that we’re both comfortable with how we’re going to - if we’re gonna present ChrisAndSteve to people. Regardless of the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude he shows the world, it’s taken Chris a while to get comfortable with everything involved because of his background. His family’s terrific; don’t get me wrong. His mom, dad, sister … they’ve already welcomed me into the family with open arms. The extended families might not understand and family is so important to both of us.
“We were supposed to take a couple days off once filming ended - before we hit the road for the radio tour - and work things out. Just us. When I got here a couple of days ago, Chris hadn’t even had the spare room made up for me. He just carried my bags in here and told me in no uncertain terms that we were gonna be sharing the bed. No sex. Not until after we talked. So we’ve been sleeping together since I got here. It’s been really nice to wake up with him wrapped around me, you know? But then the filming kept getting pushed back and pushed back and ‘the talk’ got put off again and again. He wanted to make sure he was rested and relaxed so he could focus completely on the conversation so that there would be no questions about what we each wanted. We’ve been friends for so long we didn’t want to screw that up by jumping in the sack and going at it like minks in heat. There’s too much at stake for that.”
“I get that. And it’s a sound plan, a good idea. Are you ready to tell me what happened in the hospital that got you so shook up?”
Steve swallowed hard and tears threatened once again. “Damn it!” he swore and wiped his eyes. “Sorry; I’m not usually this ‘girly’.” Tim waved off the apology and motioned for Steve to continue. Steve nodded and said, “When the doc was talking to Chris, I unconsciously reached down to take his hand in mine. Nothing overt but Chris practically threw my hand away from him and the look he gave me … Jesus! It was one of those ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ glares he’s so good at.”
“Oh boy,” Tim sighed; he knew that look all too well.
“More than that,” Steve continued, “I could see it in his eyes … he had no idea why I’d done what I did. He’s forgotten about us!” Steve stood abruptly and started pulling open dresser drawers to empty out half of their contents. “I have to get my stuff out of this room before the doc sends him home.”
“So you’re gonna what?” Tim asked. “Pretend that the two of you aren’t anything more than friends?”
“I won’t push him to remember!” Steve shouted. “I won’t,” he repeated quietly, brokenly.
“No matter that it’s going to kill you inside?” Tim said softly.
“If it’s meant to be he’ll remember,” Steve whispered and took an armful of his clothes in to the room next door never seeing the look of pain that crossed Timothy’s face at the thought of what was at risk here.
Once the bedroom had been put to rights, including fresh sheets and extra pillows on the bed, Steve and Timothy tackled the kitchen. Steve went through the pantry, freezer, and refrigerator calling out what they’d need to pick up at the store while Tim scribbled down the items and added a few of his own for himself and Steve for later that night.
“Hey, Steve,” Tim interjected when it looked like the other man was done with his list, “is there somewhere we can get Christian’s prescriptions filled while we’re out?”
“Um … yeah,” Steve scanned the notes posted on the refrigerator door and pulled one off. “Chris usually goes through the pharmacy inside the grocery store. There’s an ATM as well. I’m gonna need cash for all this stuff.”
Tim took the paper with the phone number of the pharmacy. “I’ll call these in so they should be ready by the time we get there.”
“Cool! Thanks, man! I’ll make sure the other guest room is ready for you and start putting some stuff together for Christian.” With that, the human whirlwind known as Steve bustled out of the kitchen and back down the hall.
=^..^=
Eric looked up from the puzzle book he was working on as his charge shifted in the bed yet again and groaned when his injuries protested the movement. After his last violent coughing fit had left Christian breathless to the point his lips were blue, Dr. Cameron had put him on a mist therapy treatment to help ease his lungs and upped his pain meds to knock him out. He was also provided with a body pillow to use as a cushion for his ribs. The coughing spasms had finally eased and Christian was wrapped around the pillow like it was an overlarge teddy bear but the damage had been done and his body was none to happy with the aftermath.
“St - St - Steve?” the word was the barest whisper but Eric heard it and saw two bleary blue eyes gazing back at him.
“Easy does it, tough guy,” Eric moved closer to the bed. “You want some water?” Christian licked his dry lips and nodded slightly; even that small motion produced a whimper of pain. Eric filled a plastic cup and stuck a straw in it before raising the shaggy head off of the pillow. “Take it slow. Don’t want you tossing it back at me.”
Chris only took a couple of sips before he spat the straw back out and eased his head down. “Thanks, man.” There was a brief pause before the question was asked again, “Steve? … Here?”
“Tim took him to the house a couple hours ago.”
A flash of disappointment crossed the stubbled face but was quickly replaced by concern, “He okay?”
“He’s tired … A little freaked out. Tim’s gonna stay with him tonight and bring him back tomorrow.”
“Tim’s … good guy,” Chris slurred and his eyes drooped closed again.
“That he is,” Eric agreed as Christian slipped back into an uneasy sleep.
=^..^=
Tim had no idea how Steve had gotten the reputation of being this laid back, easy going, mellow guy after watching him in action all afternoon. After packing a duffle for Christian, he hustled them out the door to the grocery store. Picking up the cash he needed, Christian’s prescriptions, and the actual food shopping were handled with a precision and sense of urgency that would have made a drill sergeant weep with pride. All Tim could do was stand back and let him go for fear of being run over in the process.
Once they arrived back home, everything was put away and Steve settled in to cook dinner for the two of them. Both Steve and Christian enjoyed cooking, especially when they were doing it for other people, and the cast and crew of Leverage had benefited from their culinary expertise on more than one occasion.
Tonight Steve kept it relatively simple with spaghetti but he did make his own meat sauce rather than relying on anything from a jar or a can. They had picked up a fresh loaf of French bread and the makings for a salad to round out the meal. After Tim had helped stow the groceries and other supplies, he retired to the entertainment room to do some channel surfing and leave Steve to his creation.
Tim was exhausted just trying to keep a watchful eye on Steve. Once dinner was over Steve had pushed him back into the entertainment room and tackled the clean up on his own. He figured that as soon as the other man actually stopped moving it wouldn’t take long before he would collapse and be down for the count and he had no qualms about helping that process along. While Steve had picked up Christian’s prescriptions, Tim had ambled over to the liquor section of the store and invested in a bottle of fine whiskey that he was prepared to put to good use in helping to relax his charge.
Steve appeared in the doorway with a damp dishtowel draped over his shoulder. “I’m just about done in here. Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope,” Tim responded. “Why don’t you finish up and come chill out for a little while.”
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Steve nodded and disappeared again.
By the time he returned, Tim had the whiskey out and the drinks poured. He had also teed up a movie in the DVD player. “Here you go,” he said and offered one of the glasses to Steve. “I figured you could use this after today.”
Steve took a sip as he collapsed into one of the recliners and savored the burn all the way down. “Oh, yeah. That works,” he sighed and kicked his shoes off to wiggle his socked toes.
Tim cleared his throat, “Listen. I called the hospital. Christian is doing fine. Eric said he’s finished the first round of antibiotics and started on the second. He’s also out for the night and sleeping as comfortably as he can. Dr. Cameron is guardedly optimistic that you’ll be able to bring him home tomorrow if you’re sure you’re ready.”
“I - uh …” Steve bit his lip and twirled the glass between his fingers. “I guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll do one more check on his room tomorrow and make sure I’ve got everything packed he’s gonna need before we head over there.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant, man. I told you before, I’m not gonna push him. He’ll either remember on his own or we go from here and see what happens in the future.” Steve finished his drink in one swallow and reached for the bottle. “You mind?”
“I got it for us for tonight. Be my guest,” Tim nodded. “I also got pistachio ice cream for later, too, if you’re interested.”
Steve chuckled, “How much later?” he bounced his eyebrows good-naturedly.
“How about after we watch James Bond kick a little ass?”
“Cool! Which one?”
“The new Casino Royale with Daniel Craig sound good?”
“Yeah! I liked that one. He knocked it out of the park first time out. I’ve been wanting to see it again.”
“All right,” Tim smiled and pressed play.
Steve never made it to the pistachio ice cream. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth whiskey, his head tipped to one side and quiet snores issued from his throat.
“Finally,” Tim smiled and rescued the nearly empty glass from the long, lax fingers resting on the arm of the recliner.
Tim allowed the movie to play out making sure that Steve was indeed done for the night. Once he had put the DVD away, shut down the entertainment center, and cleaned up the bottle and the glasses, he retrieved a pillow and blankets from Steve’s bed and made the younger man as comfortable as he could in the recliner. There would be no sense in waking him up just to have him move to a bed and there was guarantee that he’d even go back to sleep if he woke up.
Knowing that the next day could wind up as stressful as the one they’d just gone through, Tim finished tidying up and headed to bed himself.
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
The next morning started out almost as hectic as the previous afternoon had been. Tsunami Steve was up, showered, and prepping for breakfast before Tim even cracked his eyes open. The fresh smell of really good coffee tickled his nostrils and teased him gently awake and he stumbled out to the kitchen.
“You’re up!” Steve chirped and held out a large mug.
“If you say so,” Tim mumbled and practically inhaled half of the coffee in one go. “Ooooh … this is fantastic!” he commended.
“You like it?” Steve grinned. “It’s a special blend. A friend of mine in Maui keeps me supplied. It’s one of Christian’s favorites.
“I can see why,” Tim ambled over and topped off his cup. “You look better this morning,” he observed. “How long have you been up?”
Steve glanced at the clock, “Only about an hour or so … Hey! Thanks for not waking me up after I passed out last night. I slept all the way through.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Tim nodded.
“You like omelettes?” Steve asked as he held up a carton of eggs.
“Um … sure,” Tim responded.
“Omelettes it is!” Steve started pulling out what he’d need and settled in to the very familiar motions of whipping up another tasty meal.
The house was quiet when Tim opened the door to his guest room after he showered and changed clothes. He grabbed the overnight bag that he’d brought with him from the set the day before and started down the hall. Catching sight of Steve sitting on the side of the bed in his own guest bedroom, Tim turned in to see if he needed any help.
“Hey, Tim,” Steve piped up cheerfully despite the evidence of unshed moisture in his tired blue eyes.
“Steve … what’s up?” Timothy asked casually.
“It’s a good thing I made one final sweep through Christian’s room. Can you imagine if he’d found this?” the blond held out a 5 x 7 framed photo.
Timothy took the picture and couldn’t help the low whistle that escaped when he saw the shot. He remembered the day it was taken very well. Steve had been on set visiting and he and Christian started mock battling in a parody of a complicated fight sequence that Christian and the other stunt performers had nailed on the first take. While everyone else was practically rolling on the floor laughing at their antics, Beth was busy with her ever present camera capturing the moments of hilarity for posterity.
The photo Tim was holding had been snapped just as Christian was helping Steve back to his feet after their impromptu wrestling match. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists as they propped each other up and gasped with laughter. Their eyes were locked and the looks of deep affection shone brightly from both of them. Tim sighed and handed the picture back. “You ready to go get him and bring him home?”
“Just one second,” Steve grabbed a duffle bag off of the floor and checked the contents one last time. “I packed the softest, loosest clothes I could find. I didn’t figure he’d be wanting anything too snug that might put pressure on those scrapes and bruises.” He pawed down to the bottom. “Heavy socks, rubber soled moccasins, fingerless gloves and a wool cap. I already put a blanket and pillows in the back of your car so he can get comfy on the drive back.”
“All right, then,” Timothy rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go rescue us a Kane.”
Steve burst out laughing as he followed the older man out to the car.
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