FIC: Between You And Me 4/5
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.
When Christian woke up the next morning he stretched slowly and was amazed at how much better he felt. There was do doubt in his mind that everything Steve had done for him the day before was responsible for his overall feeling of well-being and lack of pain. He stretched a little more and sat up gingerly waiting for his body to tell him this was a very bad idea and when nothing happened, he eased himself out of bed and took care of his most urgent needs before ambling out to the kitchen. There was a distinct lack of fresh coffee smell and he mentally crossed his fingers that it meant Steve was still sleeping. The man had looked like fifty miles of bad road when he’d hustled into his room last night in the wake of his nightmare.
His hopes were dashed when he rounded the corner to see Steve slumped over the table in the kitchen nook; his left arm was stretched across the table, the right was tucked under his cheek and a pencil lay within touching distance of the fingers of his semi-curled right hand where it had apparently fallen when the exhausted man had succumbed to his need for sleep. The notebook that Steve usually kept with him when ideas for songs and lyrics struck him was just under his chin and Christian could see scribbles and places where Steve had crossed out some words and replaced them with others. He hoped that Steve had either managed to get whatever was floating around in that incredible brain of his down on paper or that he’d remember it again when it woke up if he hadn’t. In the meantime, it was time for him to start pulling some of the weight around here and coffee was a necessity in his house in the mornings.
Christian tried hard to make sure he didn’t do anything to wake up his housemate. Limping across the floor he grabbed a couple of the bottled waters that hadn’t been put into the refrigerator to chill yet and used them in lieu of turning on the faucet. Thankfully he didn’t have to grind any of the coffee beans, there was plenty of already ground stuff left over from the day before for at least the first pot. Unfortunately when he reached up to grab the coffee filters from the top shelf of one of the cabinets, his ribs gave him a sharp reminder that this was not something he should be doing yet and the resulting spasm of his fingers sent the box of filters tumbling down to the countertop.
Steve startled awake immediately and jumped out of his chair with enough force to send it crashing to the floor behind him. “Chris?!” he blurted out looking around wildly, “Chris?!!”
Christian was stunned by the reaction. He’d woken Steve from a sound sleep before but never with such an extreme reaction. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m right here, man. I just dropped the coffee filters. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He moved slowly towards the other man with a hand outstretched to offer help if it was needed.
Steve was gasping for breath and shaking visibly. His eyes were wide as he took in the sight of his friend standing in front of him with no apparent additional damage in evidence. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the hard floor after his legs decided that they didn’t need to be supporting his weight any longer and he started chuckling, “God aren’t we a pair,” he said ruefully and dragged a hand through his hair. He took a second look up at Christian, “You look better this morning.”
“Feel better, too, thanks to you,” Christian’s smile lit up the room. “I slept great after that nightmare and even though I’m still sore, it’s nothing like it was. Think the ‘Carlson Deluxe’ needs to be written up in some medical book somewhere as a miracle cure or something.” Steve chuckled again. “I mean it, man.”
Regaining his feet, Steve took the box of coffee filters from Christian’s hand. “You know, you really don’t have to try that hard to get me to help you out again, Chris,” he smiled and shuffled towards the coffee maker.
Christian scrubbed his hands through his unruly mane of hair in frustration, “What? … Wait … No! That wasn’t it at all, man! I meant … It was …” Christian looked up to see Steve’s shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “Fuck you, Carlson!” he said with no heat in his voice.
When Steve turned back from setting up the coffee maker he was still smiling. “Do you want help with your bath this morning?”
“I think I can handle this mission on my own,” Christian snorted. “And so you know? I’m not the only one in need of a good scrubbin’.”
“You saying I stink?”
The eloquent uplifting of one of Christian’s eyebrows was the only response given as he sauntered back out of the kitchen.
“And to think I was going to make you Belgian waffles for breakfast this morning,” Steve shot back. “I hope you like Cheerios, Kane.”
“I’d like lots of butter and real maple syrup on those waffles, Carlson,” Christian’s voice echoed down the hall.
Steve hung his head in defeat. Yeah, he’d make the damned waffles. As if there was ever any doubt.
Christian knew he was well on his way to healing when he couldn’t settle down during the day. He had no desire to nap any more and even sitting in front of the big screen TV and watching the sports channel held little to no appeal. Unfortunately, Steve was hovering around him like a nervous mama hen from hell. No matter that he was exhausted himself, he always managed to be in the room whenever Christian got it into his head to do something; if he wasn’t doing his best to keep Christian from trying anything that might strain his healing body he was fluttering around the house tidying up like a maniac and unable to slow down or relax. The only time he seemed to stop moving even for a brief period of time was when he stepped out onto the deck for a cigarette.
Steve happened to be outside when the doorbell rang. Knowing that the chimes couldn’t be heard on the deck, Christian strolled to the front of the house to answer it and was delighted to find Timothy Hutton and John Rogers standing on the front stoop.
“Christian!” John greeted. “Good to see you up and around! You feeling all right?”
“Better than I was,” Christian responded with a hearty left-handed handshake thanks to Steve’s insistence on the sling for his bruised shoulder. “It’s gonna take a little time but I’m definitely on the mend. Hey, Tim.”
“Chris,” the older actor smiled and offered his own left hand. “Didn’t expect to see you when the door opened.”
“Steve’s on the back patio,” Chris said. “Smoke break. Why don’t you come on in. Sit down. Have a beer or something.”
“We don’t want to be a bother,” John replied. “We decided to stop in and see how you were doing.”
“No bother at all. It’d probably do us good to have someone else around to talk to right now.”
“Ah!” Tim said knowledgably. “Going stir crazy already are you?” he asked as he and John entered the house and followed Christian to the sliding doors that opened out to the deck.
“Steve’s driving me a little nuts,” Chris admitted. “I know he got a scare with the accident but I’m doing a lot better - thanks mostly to him, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” Tim speculated.
“Remind me sometime to tell you about the ‘Carlson Deluxe’,” Christian said and slid the door open. “Hey, Steve, we got company!” he called as they walked out.
Timothy had to work hard to hide his shock at the change in Steve’s appearance. He seemed to have aged years in the short time since Christian had been home. “Steve,” he said casually, “how’re things?”
“Oh, you know,” Steve tried for a chipper response, “Chris is being his normal self …”
“Don’t you start, Carlson,” Christian bantered good-naturedly.
Steve stubbed his cigarette out. “Can I get you guys anything? We’ve got beer … soda … water …”
“You got any of that whiskey left from the other night?” Tim asked hopefully.
“There’s whiskey and you didn’t tell me?” Christian pouted.
“And there’s a reason for that,” Steve responded without missing a beat. “Yeah, Tim, you want some of that?”
Tim nodded and John chimed in, “Make that two.”
“Make that …” Christian started.
“Three whiskeys and a bottle of water,” Steve overrode what the other man was about to say and ignored the single fingered salute that was thrown his way as he turned to go inside.
As soon as the door was closed, Tim turned to Christian, “He looks like hell.”
“I know. I don’t think he’s slept much since the accident. I don’t think he can yet. There’s something bugging him but he won’t say what it is.”
“You remembered the accident,” Tim said. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling there’s something else and it’s the ‘something else’ that’s tied into what Stevie isn’t telling me.”
“The doc did say to let you remember stuff on your own,” John said.
“But when do we stop waiting and just have someone tell me?” the frustration shone through in Christian’s question.
“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” John asked.
“Another couple of days. He wanted to check the stitches on the back of my head and see how the strains and sprains were doing.”
“Ask him then,” Tim suggested. “If he says it’s okay for someone to tell you, maybe Steve will open up.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Christian challenged.
“Let me talk to Steve,” Tim offered. “Either he’ll tell you or I will. He doesn’t need this thing tearing him apart any more than it already has.”
“Deal,” Christian agreed as the door slid open and Steve backed onto the deck with a tray full of shot glasses, the bottle of whiskey and water for Christian. “By the way, Tim,” Christian continued, “I wanted to apologize that you stayed on up here for nothing when the show got cancelled the other night.”
“Not a problem, Chris. I was happy to do it and help out Steve when I could,” Tim nodded.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” he tapped Tim’s shot glass with his water bottle in a toast.
Steve downed his first shot and immediately poured a second. He sipped at the second one, smiled brightly and said, “Hey! You guys should stay for a late lunch, early dinner! I can toss some burgers or steaks on the grill and we can have a cook out since it’s so nice outside.”
Christian frowned and glanced over at Tim and John. Both men were looking a little apprehensive but obviously didn’t want to say no and disappoint Steve. “You sure you’re up to this, Steve? You’re looking a little ragged around the edges,” Christian tried for diplomacy. “We can do this some other time like when I’m feeling better and can have a damned beer and you don’t look like you’re dead on your feet.”
“What?” Steve frowned. “I’m fine. You know I love to feed people.”
John, Tim and Christian looked at each other and Christian just shrugged. Tim sighed but sensed that this was important to Steve so he answered for all of them, “That sounds great, Steve. Let us know what we can do to help.”
“Not a thing,” Steve declined the offer. “It’s not that much work and this way the three of you can catch up and talk a little shop.”
The food was excellent as was the company. The whiskey continued to flow and stories got funnier and raunchier as tongues were loosened.
Christian kept a surreptitious eye on Steve as the afternoon progressed into evening. Steve was one of the most affectionate people he knew once he’d gotten a few drinks under his belt and tonight was no exception. Christian knew that Steve was comfortable around Tim thanks to the time the three of them spent together away from the studio and set locations and he watched as Steve draped himself over Tim’s shoulder helpless with laughter. Christian also noticed several times when it looked like Steve was going to reach out to him in the same manner only to stop as a fleeting hint of sadness and loss passed over his face. That look caused a pang in Christian’s heart and it really bothered him that he had no idea why. He needed to know; he just had to figure out how to go about it.
Several hours later Tim and John dragged a boneless Steve through the house and to his room. The younger man was pretty much unconscious on his feet and there was no way Christian could have handled him on his own. Christian trailed behind the trio and watched as they removed Steve’s shoes and jeans before laying him on the mattress, gently pulling the blankets over him. Steve whimpered and rolled to his side with his right hand reaching out for god knew what before he settled and became still once more.
“You guys okay to drive?” Christian asked as the three men made their way to the front door.
“We both stopped a while ago when we realized Steve wasn’t going to,” John answered soberly. “We’re fine.”
“Thanks again for comin’ by. This was real nice,” Christian said and followed them as far as the stoop. He watched until they made the turn at the end of his street before he went back in to lock up for the night and finish putting things away.
He bypassed his own room and took one more look in on Steve. He was now clutching something in his right hand but the light spilling in from the hallway wasn’t enough for him to make out what it was. Frowning, Christian pulled the door partially shut and went back to the entertainment room. He wasn’t quite sleepy enough to settle down and his brain was churning with thoughts and ideas on what could possibly be spinning around in Steve’s quirky brain. He was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another and sooner rather than later.
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
The house was still the next morning when Christian resurfaced. He’d managed to sleep the entire night through without even a hint of the nightmare that had woken him so abruptly the night before. He remembered flashes of the dreams that he did have but all of them left him feeling warm inside: He and Steve playing gigs, goofing around on the Leverage set, the two of them out partying with friends, having dinner, attending sporting events, and numerous other good times they’d had together through the years. In every memory they were laughing, joking, teasing, and touching; nothing like the restrained caution that Steve had exhibited the day before out on the deck. Then there was a flash that wasn’t so clear … the two of them nose to nose inside his dressing trailer. He didn’t have the feeling they were fighting, though, since this fuzzy flash gave him one of the warmest feelings of all, he just wished he could break through the fog and figure out why.
His first stop, after he scrubbed the layer of crud off of his teeth and tied his unruly hair back out of his face until he could shampoo it again, was Steve’s room. The man apparently hadn’t moved since Christian had seen him the night before but the deep even breaths he could hear let him know he was still sleeping the sleep of the well and truly drunk. He smiled and headed out to the kitchen. When Steve finally did resurface he was going to need hot coffee and dry toast and lots of it.
Christian decided that his ankle and ribs felt well enough to endure a shower rather than a sit down bath so he set the coffee pot up to start brewing on its own, got the bread out for toasting, and headed towards the master bathroom whistling softly under his breath.
The first thing he heard as he approached his bedroom was the sound of Steve being violently ill in the guest bathroom. “Here we go,” he grimaced and detoured to where the tortured sounds were coming from.
Steve was a shivering lump on the tiled floor, the greenish tinge to his face clashing with the deep blue plush bath towels. “You’re up,” he groaned and reached to flush the toilet on his own.
“Bet you wish you weren’t,” Christian said sympathetically and handed him a cup of water to rinse his mouth out with. “Think you’re done?” he asked quietly in deference to the pounding head that was evidenced by the heaviness in the bloodshot eyes.
“Maybe?” Steve responded just as softly and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “Hey! How are you doing this morning?”
“Good … I’m good,” Christian leaned against the doorway and watched as Steve bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face and neck. “I’m a little worried about you.”
Steve smiled crookedly. “Don’t be. This was self-inflicted and I’ll live,” he dismissed Christian’s concerns and patted his face dry.
Christian scratched the scruff on his neck and stood up straight, “When you’re ready come on in to the kitchen. I’ve got coffee going and I know just how dry you want your toast.”
“Thanks, Chris,” Steve said softly and slumped to sit on the edge of the tub. Christian took that as his cue to leave and headed back to the kitchen.
Christian’s plan to talk to Steve never quite got off the ground. Even after a shower, Steve still looked like crap and made no attempt at conversation as he choked down a couple pieces of dry toast and tried to inhale an ocean’s worth of hot, sweet coffee. His eyes were so bloodshot it almost looked like they were bleeding and the pained and pinched look around them wasn’t going away even with the aspirin he was taking at four hour intervals.
Deciding that retreat was his best option, Christian took himself off for a long, hot shower and then brought his iPod and a book out to the deck to let his hair air dry in the warm-ish late morning sunshine.
When Christian went back inside a few hours later to put something together for lunch, the door to the music studio bedroom was closed letting him know where Steve had gone to find sanctuary. He strolled down the hallway and put his ear to the door; he figured if he didn’t hear anything it would be safe for him to interrupt and see if Steve was hungry by any chance. A perplexed look crossed his face as he heard the sound of the little spinet piano being pounded forcefully coming through the door; Steve didn’t normally use a piano when he was writing; he preferred to work through the music with his trusty guitar.
Not wanting to stop the creative process in progress, Christian headed down the hall but as he walked by Steve’s room he glanced in and saw what he thought was the item Steve had been clutching in his sleep the night before lying on top of the sleep rumpled bed covers. His curiosity won out so he entered the room and picked up the small, framed photo. The breath left his body in a loud whoosh as he saw what was in the picture. It was him … and Steve … and … just … Wow! The look that was smoldering between them … he was lucky the photo wasn’t scorching his fingers from inside the frame. How could he not …
And suddenly that brief spark of memory from his on set trailer was back. Only this time he saw it all. The affectionate, teasing banter. The complete lack of personal space between them. The two of them moving in closer … closer … closer to each other before the untimely interruption. One more memory surfaced of him waking up earlier that same morning wrapped around Steve like an octopus with his nose buried in the other man’s soft, wavy hair. Holy shit! Was this what Steve had been keeping from him since the accident? His mind flashed quickly on all of the times in the past few days when Steve had made a natural move to reach out to him but then pulled back with a sad or strange look on his face. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Christian growled softly and tucked the photo carefully into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and pulled his t-shirt out to cover it before heading back to the music room.
He could still hear the piano but it was quieter now - more pianissimo than fortissimo - like a gentle rain shower compared to a thunder and lightning storm. He eased the door open and slid quietly into the room to wait for an appropriate moment to make his presence known.
Steve was singing quietly, a soft whisper of silk over fine sandpaper …
I’m sure you’ll never tell
About the boy you used to see
But don’t worry I won’t sing
About everything … between you … and me
His voice broke completely on the last line and Christian realized that no matter what the original motivation had been for the song, it had become very personal for Steve in the end. The final piano chord faded to nothing and the only sound in the room was Steve’s labored breathing as he tried to bring his emotions under control.
Moving further into the room, Christian softly said, “So … when .. when were you gonna tell me?”
Steve jumped and very nearly slid off the slippery surface of the piano bench. He scrubbed at his eyes and said, “I wasn’t,” and couldn’t even look Christian in the eye.
Christian sat next to Steve on the bench, “Why the hell not, Steve? I can see it’s been eating away at you … killin’ you inside.” He tried to keep his anger out of his voice but knew he hadn’t succeeded all the way.
Steve’s shoulders slumped even further, “It wouldn’t have been right or fair to you. I thought it was better this way since you didn’t remember …”
“Better?” Christian was flabbergasted. “Better for who? Me? I knew something was wrong even if I didn’t have the slightest idea what it might be.” He wanted to reach out and thwack Steve upside the head but now was not the time or place since he didn’t know how the gentle teasing would be taken.
“So …. What happened? What triggered your memory?” Steve avoided Christian’s questions all together.
“This,” Christian placed the photo on top of the piano where both of them could see it. “It’s all there, Steve.” He took a deep breath knowing that his next words could drive a wedge between them for good, “When did you decide to give up on us? … To stop loving me.”
A tear streaked down Steve’s cheek. He thumbed it away and finally turned to face Christian head on, “That’s just it, Chris. I never stopped. I just … I loved you enough to let you go.”
That stopped Christian in his tracks. His mouth opened and closed a few times but no words were forthcoming. He could only stare in humbled awe at Steve knowing what he had been prepared to give up if Christian hadn’t remembered on his own.
Steve squirmed under that intense gaze and looked away blinking back the damned tears that were so close to the surface at all times these days. When Steve finally looked back at Christian, he was staring at Steve’s hands as they rested on the piano keyboard. Steve twisted his fingers together waiting for Christian to say something … anything … just so he knew where they stood.
When Christian finally looked up again, he knew his face was full of regret at the pain he had inadvertently caused. He smiled warmly and said, “I don’t - don’t know if I should smack you for bein’ such an idiot or kiss you senseless and put all this behind us so we can move on.”
Steve huffed out a shaky breath and nodded, “Can I put my vote in for which option I’d pick?” he asked softly.
“C’mere,” Christian rasped, cupping his hand behind Steve’s head and pulling him closer … closer …
Christian ghosted his mouth across Steve’s, the barest brush of lips on lips, eliciting a quiet, needy moan deep in Steve’s throat. As if that was the signal he’d been waiting for, Christian dove in for another kiss - a real kiss - mouth open … demanding - and receiving - entrance, allowing their tongues to meet and mate in a lazy duel. The only sounds in the room were soft sighs and the occasional breathy moan as one or the other of them breathed in deeply through their nose.
They broke briefly to pant for air until Steve let out a whimper and brought them back together. Christian pulled away slowly, nipping at Steve’s chin and lower lip along the way. Steve returned the favor by nibbling at Christian’s upper lip and planting a tiny bite on the tip of his nose. Christian cupped Steve’s face in both hands and chuckled as he leaned in for more hungry kisses. And if the taste of Steve’s happy tears flavored the kiss, neither man was about to say anything as they reveled in each other’s closeness.
With a gasp, Steve pushed Christian away gently. He wiped the moisture off of his face saying, “We can’t … we haven’t …”
“Shhhhhhh, babe,” Christian said quietly. “It’s okay. We’ve waited long enough. Talkin’ ain’t gonna change the way we feel about each other.” Steve hesitated. He blinked slowly and swallowed. “I’m not askin’ for anything right now … today,” Christian continued. “Need time to take care of you the way you been takin’ care of me. But once you’re feelin’ up to it? ….. ” he trailed off with a sexy smile.
A choked sob escaped from Steve’s throat and the next thing he knew he was being held in Christian’s strong arms as he cried out all of the pain and heartache of the past few days.
>^..^<
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/97476.html
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/97802.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.
When Christian woke up the next morning he stretched slowly and was amazed at how much better he felt. There was do doubt in his mind that everything Steve had done for him the day before was responsible for his overall feeling of well-being and lack of pain. He stretched a little more and sat up gingerly waiting for his body to tell him this was a very bad idea and when nothing happened, he eased himself out of bed and took care of his most urgent needs before ambling out to the kitchen. There was a distinct lack of fresh coffee smell and he mentally crossed his fingers that it meant Steve was still sleeping. The man had looked like fifty miles of bad road when he’d hustled into his room last night in the wake of his nightmare.
His hopes were dashed when he rounded the corner to see Steve slumped over the table in the kitchen nook; his left arm was stretched across the table, the right was tucked under his cheek and a pencil lay within touching distance of the fingers of his semi-curled right hand where it had apparently fallen when the exhausted man had succumbed to his need for sleep. The notebook that Steve usually kept with him when ideas for songs and lyrics struck him was just under his chin and Christian could see scribbles and places where Steve had crossed out some words and replaced them with others. He hoped that Steve had either managed to get whatever was floating around in that incredible brain of his down on paper or that he’d remember it again when it woke up if he hadn’t. In the meantime, it was time for him to start pulling some of the weight around here and coffee was a necessity in his house in the mornings.
Christian tried hard to make sure he didn’t do anything to wake up his housemate. Limping across the floor he grabbed a couple of the bottled waters that hadn’t been put into the refrigerator to chill yet and used them in lieu of turning on the faucet. Thankfully he didn’t have to grind any of the coffee beans, there was plenty of already ground stuff left over from the day before for at least the first pot. Unfortunately when he reached up to grab the coffee filters from the top shelf of one of the cabinets, his ribs gave him a sharp reminder that this was not something he should be doing yet and the resulting spasm of his fingers sent the box of filters tumbling down to the countertop.
Steve startled awake immediately and jumped out of his chair with enough force to send it crashing to the floor behind him. “Chris?!” he blurted out looking around wildly, “Chris?!!”
Christian was stunned by the reaction. He’d woken Steve from a sound sleep before but never with such an extreme reaction. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m right here, man. I just dropped the coffee filters. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He moved slowly towards the other man with a hand outstretched to offer help if it was needed.
Steve was gasping for breath and shaking visibly. His eyes were wide as he took in the sight of his friend standing in front of him with no apparent additional damage in evidence. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the hard floor after his legs decided that they didn’t need to be supporting his weight any longer and he started chuckling, “God aren’t we a pair,” he said ruefully and dragged a hand through his hair. He took a second look up at Christian, “You look better this morning.”
“Feel better, too, thanks to you,” Christian’s smile lit up the room. “I slept great after that nightmare and even though I’m still sore, it’s nothing like it was. Think the ‘Carlson Deluxe’ needs to be written up in some medical book somewhere as a miracle cure or something.” Steve chuckled again. “I mean it, man.”
Regaining his feet, Steve took the box of coffee filters from Christian’s hand. “You know, you really don’t have to try that hard to get me to help you out again, Chris,” he smiled and shuffled towards the coffee maker.
Christian scrubbed his hands through his unruly mane of hair in frustration, “What? … Wait … No! That wasn’t it at all, man! I meant … It was …” Christian looked up to see Steve’s shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “Fuck you, Carlson!” he said with no heat in his voice.
When Steve turned back from setting up the coffee maker he was still smiling. “Do you want help with your bath this morning?”
“I think I can handle this mission on my own,” Christian snorted. “And so you know? I’m not the only one in need of a good scrubbin’.”
“You saying I stink?”
The eloquent uplifting of one of Christian’s eyebrows was the only response given as he sauntered back out of the kitchen.
“And to think I was going to make you Belgian waffles for breakfast this morning,” Steve shot back. “I hope you like Cheerios, Kane.”
“I’d like lots of butter and real maple syrup on those waffles, Carlson,” Christian’s voice echoed down the hall.
Steve hung his head in defeat. Yeah, he’d make the damned waffles. As if there was ever any doubt.
Christian knew he was well on his way to healing when he couldn’t settle down during the day. He had no desire to nap any more and even sitting in front of the big screen TV and watching the sports channel held little to no appeal. Unfortunately, Steve was hovering around him like a nervous mama hen from hell. No matter that he was exhausted himself, he always managed to be in the room whenever Christian got it into his head to do something; if he wasn’t doing his best to keep Christian from trying anything that might strain his healing body he was fluttering around the house tidying up like a maniac and unable to slow down or relax. The only time he seemed to stop moving even for a brief period of time was when he stepped out onto the deck for a cigarette.
Steve happened to be outside when the doorbell rang. Knowing that the chimes couldn’t be heard on the deck, Christian strolled to the front of the house to answer it and was delighted to find Timothy Hutton and John Rogers standing on the front stoop.
“Christian!” John greeted. “Good to see you up and around! You feeling all right?”
“Better than I was,” Christian responded with a hearty left-handed handshake thanks to Steve’s insistence on the sling for his bruised shoulder. “It’s gonna take a little time but I’m definitely on the mend. Hey, Tim.”
“Chris,” the older actor smiled and offered his own left hand. “Didn’t expect to see you when the door opened.”
“Steve’s on the back patio,” Chris said. “Smoke break. Why don’t you come on in. Sit down. Have a beer or something.”
“We don’t want to be a bother,” John replied. “We decided to stop in and see how you were doing.”
“No bother at all. It’d probably do us good to have someone else around to talk to right now.”
“Ah!” Tim said knowledgably. “Going stir crazy already are you?” he asked as he and John entered the house and followed Christian to the sliding doors that opened out to the deck.
“Steve’s driving me a little nuts,” Chris admitted. “I know he got a scare with the accident but I’m doing a lot better - thanks mostly to him, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” Tim speculated.
“Remind me sometime to tell you about the ‘Carlson Deluxe’,” Christian said and slid the door open. “Hey, Steve, we got company!” he called as they walked out.
Timothy had to work hard to hide his shock at the change in Steve’s appearance. He seemed to have aged years in the short time since Christian had been home. “Steve,” he said casually, “how’re things?”
“Oh, you know,” Steve tried for a chipper response, “Chris is being his normal self …”
“Don’t you start, Carlson,” Christian bantered good-naturedly.
Steve stubbed his cigarette out. “Can I get you guys anything? We’ve got beer … soda … water …”
“You got any of that whiskey left from the other night?” Tim asked hopefully.
“There’s whiskey and you didn’t tell me?” Christian pouted.
“And there’s a reason for that,” Steve responded without missing a beat. “Yeah, Tim, you want some of that?”
Tim nodded and John chimed in, “Make that two.”
“Make that …” Christian started.
“Three whiskeys and a bottle of water,” Steve overrode what the other man was about to say and ignored the single fingered salute that was thrown his way as he turned to go inside.
As soon as the door was closed, Tim turned to Christian, “He looks like hell.”
“I know. I don’t think he’s slept much since the accident. I don’t think he can yet. There’s something bugging him but he won’t say what it is.”
“You remembered the accident,” Tim said. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling there’s something else and it’s the ‘something else’ that’s tied into what Stevie isn’t telling me.”
“The doc did say to let you remember stuff on your own,” John said.
“But when do we stop waiting and just have someone tell me?” the frustration shone through in Christian’s question.
“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” John asked.
“Another couple of days. He wanted to check the stitches on the back of my head and see how the strains and sprains were doing.”
“Ask him then,” Tim suggested. “If he says it’s okay for someone to tell you, maybe Steve will open up.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Christian challenged.
“Let me talk to Steve,” Tim offered. “Either he’ll tell you or I will. He doesn’t need this thing tearing him apart any more than it already has.”
“Deal,” Christian agreed as the door slid open and Steve backed onto the deck with a tray full of shot glasses, the bottle of whiskey and water for Christian. “By the way, Tim,” Christian continued, “I wanted to apologize that you stayed on up here for nothing when the show got cancelled the other night.”
“Not a problem, Chris. I was happy to do it and help out Steve when I could,” Tim nodded.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” he tapped Tim’s shot glass with his water bottle in a toast.
Steve downed his first shot and immediately poured a second. He sipped at the second one, smiled brightly and said, “Hey! You guys should stay for a late lunch, early dinner! I can toss some burgers or steaks on the grill and we can have a cook out since it’s so nice outside.”
Christian frowned and glanced over at Tim and John. Both men were looking a little apprehensive but obviously didn’t want to say no and disappoint Steve. “You sure you’re up to this, Steve? You’re looking a little ragged around the edges,” Christian tried for diplomacy. “We can do this some other time like when I’m feeling better and can have a damned beer and you don’t look like you’re dead on your feet.”
“What?” Steve frowned. “I’m fine. You know I love to feed people.”
John, Tim and Christian looked at each other and Christian just shrugged. Tim sighed but sensed that this was important to Steve so he answered for all of them, “That sounds great, Steve. Let us know what we can do to help.”
“Not a thing,” Steve declined the offer. “It’s not that much work and this way the three of you can catch up and talk a little shop.”
The food was excellent as was the company. The whiskey continued to flow and stories got funnier and raunchier as tongues were loosened.
Christian kept a surreptitious eye on Steve as the afternoon progressed into evening. Steve was one of the most affectionate people he knew once he’d gotten a few drinks under his belt and tonight was no exception. Christian knew that Steve was comfortable around Tim thanks to the time the three of them spent together away from the studio and set locations and he watched as Steve draped himself over Tim’s shoulder helpless with laughter. Christian also noticed several times when it looked like Steve was going to reach out to him in the same manner only to stop as a fleeting hint of sadness and loss passed over his face. That look caused a pang in Christian’s heart and it really bothered him that he had no idea why. He needed to know; he just had to figure out how to go about it.
Several hours later Tim and John dragged a boneless Steve through the house and to his room. The younger man was pretty much unconscious on his feet and there was no way Christian could have handled him on his own. Christian trailed behind the trio and watched as they removed Steve’s shoes and jeans before laying him on the mattress, gently pulling the blankets over him. Steve whimpered and rolled to his side with his right hand reaching out for god knew what before he settled and became still once more.
“You guys okay to drive?” Christian asked as the three men made their way to the front door.
“We both stopped a while ago when we realized Steve wasn’t going to,” John answered soberly. “We’re fine.”
“Thanks again for comin’ by. This was real nice,” Christian said and followed them as far as the stoop. He watched until they made the turn at the end of his street before he went back in to lock up for the night and finish putting things away.
He bypassed his own room and took one more look in on Steve. He was now clutching something in his right hand but the light spilling in from the hallway wasn’t enough for him to make out what it was. Frowning, Christian pulled the door partially shut and went back to the entertainment room. He wasn’t quite sleepy enough to settle down and his brain was churning with thoughts and ideas on what could possibly be spinning around in Steve’s quirky brain. He was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another and sooner rather than later.
>^..^< >^..^< >^..^< >^..^<
The house was still the next morning when Christian resurfaced. He’d managed to sleep the entire night through without even a hint of the nightmare that had woken him so abruptly the night before. He remembered flashes of the dreams that he did have but all of them left him feeling warm inside: He and Steve playing gigs, goofing around on the Leverage set, the two of them out partying with friends, having dinner, attending sporting events, and numerous other good times they’d had together through the years. In every memory they were laughing, joking, teasing, and touching; nothing like the restrained caution that Steve had exhibited the day before out on the deck. Then there was a flash that wasn’t so clear … the two of them nose to nose inside his dressing trailer. He didn’t have the feeling they were fighting, though, since this fuzzy flash gave him one of the warmest feelings of all, he just wished he could break through the fog and figure out why.
His first stop, after he scrubbed the layer of crud off of his teeth and tied his unruly hair back out of his face until he could shampoo it again, was Steve’s room. The man apparently hadn’t moved since Christian had seen him the night before but the deep even breaths he could hear let him know he was still sleeping the sleep of the well and truly drunk. He smiled and headed out to the kitchen. When Steve finally did resurface he was going to need hot coffee and dry toast and lots of it.
Christian decided that his ankle and ribs felt well enough to endure a shower rather than a sit down bath so he set the coffee pot up to start brewing on its own, got the bread out for toasting, and headed towards the master bathroom whistling softly under his breath.
The first thing he heard as he approached his bedroom was the sound of Steve being violently ill in the guest bathroom. “Here we go,” he grimaced and detoured to where the tortured sounds were coming from.
Steve was a shivering lump on the tiled floor, the greenish tinge to his face clashing with the deep blue plush bath towels. “You’re up,” he groaned and reached to flush the toilet on his own.
“Bet you wish you weren’t,” Christian said sympathetically and handed him a cup of water to rinse his mouth out with. “Think you’re done?” he asked quietly in deference to the pounding head that was evidenced by the heaviness in the bloodshot eyes.
“Maybe?” Steve responded just as softly and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “Hey! How are you doing this morning?”
“Good … I’m good,” Christian leaned against the doorway and watched as Steve bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face and neck. “I’m a little worried about you.”
Steve smiled crookedly. “Don’t be. This was self-inflicted and I’ll live,” he dismissed Christian’s concerns and patted his face dry.
Christian scratched the scruff on his neck and stood up straight, “When you’re ready come on in to the kitchen. I’ve got coffee going and I know just how dry you want your toast.”
“Thanks, Chris,” Steve said softly and slumped to sit on the edge of the tub. Christian took that as his cue to leave and headed back to the kitchen.
Christian’s plan to talk to Steve never quite got off the ground. Even after a shower, Steve still looked like crap and made no attempt at conversation as he choked down a couple pieces of dry toast and tried to inhale an ocean’s worth of hot, sweet coffee. His eyes were so bloodshot it almost looked like they were bleeding and the pained and pinched look around them wasn’t going away even with the aspirin he was taking at four hour intervals.
Deciding that retreat was his best option, Christian took himself off for a long, hot shower and then brought his iPod and a book out to the deck to let his hair air dry in the warm-ish late morning sunshine.
When Christian went back inside a few hours later to put something together for lunch, the door to the music studio bedroom was closed letting him know where Steve had gone to find sanctuary. He strolled down the hallway and put his ear to the door; he figured if he didn’t hear anything it would be safe for him to interrupt and see if Steve was hungry by any chance. A perplexed look crossed his face as he heard the sound of the little spinet piano being pounded forcefully coming through the door; Steve didn’t normally use a piano when he was writing; he preferred to work through the music with his trusty guitar.
Not wanting to stop the creative process in progress, Christian headed down the hall but as he walked by Steve’s room he glanced in and saw what he thought was the item Steve had been clutching in his sleep the night before lying on top of the sleep rumpled bed covers. His curiosity won out so he entered the room and picked up the small, framed photo. The breath left his body in a loud whoosh as he saw what was in the picture. It was him … and Steve … and … just … Wow! The look that was smoldering between them … he was lucky the photo wasn’t scorching his fingers from inside the frame. How could he not …
And suddenly that brief spark of memory from his on set trailer was back. Only this time he saw it all. The affectionate, teasing banter. The complete lack of personal space between them. The two of them moving in closer … closer … closer to each other before the untimely interruption. One more memory surfaced of him waking up earlier that same morning wrapped around Steve like an octopus with his nose buried in the other man’s soft, wavy hair. Holy shit! Was this what Steve had been keeping from him since the accident? His mind flashed quickly on all of the times in the past few days when Steve had made a natural move to reach out to him but then pulled back with a sad or strange look on his face. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Christian growled softly and tucked the photo carefully into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and pulled his t-shirt out to cover it before heading back to the music room.
He could still hear the piano but it was quieter now - more pianissimo than fortissimo - like a gentle rain shower compared to a thunder and lightning storm. He eased the door open and slid quietly into the room to wait for an appropriate moment to make his presence known.
Steve was singing quietly, a soft whisper of silk over fine sandpaper …
I’m sure you’ll never tell
About the boy you used to see
But don’t worry I won’t sing
About everything … between you … and me
His voice broke completely on the last line and Christian realized that no matter what the original motivation had been for the song, it had become very personal for Steve in the end. The final piano chord faded to nothing and the only sound in the room was Steve’s labored breathing as he tried to bring his emotions under control.
Moving further into the room, Christian softly said, “So … when .. when were you gonna tell me?”
Steve jumped and very nearly slid off the slippery surface of the piano bench. He scrubbed at his eyes and said, “I wasn’t,” and couldn’t even look Christian in the eye.
Christian sat next to Steve on the bench, “Why the hell not, Steve? I can see it’s been eating away at you … killin’ you inside.” He tried to keep his anger out of his voice but knew he hadn’t succeeded all the way.
Steve’s shoulders slumped even further, “It wouldn’t have been right or fair to you. I thought it was better this way since you didn’t remember …”
“Better?” Christian was flabbergasted. “Better for who? Me? I knew something was wrong even if I didn’t have the slightest idea what it might be.” He wanted to reach out and thwack Steve upside the head but now was not the time or place since he didn’t know how the gentle teasing would be taken.
“So …. What happened? What triggered your memory?” Steve avoided Christian’s questions all together.
“This,” Christian placed the photo on top of the piano where both of them could see it. “It’s all there, Steve.” He took a deep breath knowing that his next words could drive a wedge between them for good, “When did you decide to give up on us? … To stop loving me.”
A tear streaked down Steve’s cheek. He thumbed it away and finally turned to face Christian head on, “That’s just it, Chris. I never stopped. I just … I loved you enough to let you go.”
That stopped Christian in his tracks. His mouth opened and closed a few times but no words were forthcoming. He could only stare in humbled awe at Steve knowing what he had been prepared to give up if Christian hadn’t remembered on his own.
Steve squirmed under that intense gaze and looked away blinking back the damned tears that were so close to the surface at all times these days. When Steve finally looked back at Christian, he was staring at Steve’s hands as they rested on the piano keyboard. Steve twisted his fingers together waiting for Christian to say something … anything … just so he knew where they stood.
When Christian finally looked up again, he knew his face was full of regret at the pain he had inadvertently caused. He smiled warmly and said, “I don’t - don’t know if I should smack you for bein’ such an idiot or kiss you senseless and put all this behind us so we can move on.”
Steve huffed out a shaky breath and nodded, “Can I put my vote in for which option I’d pick?” he asked softly.
“C’mere,” Christian rasped, cupping his hand behind Steve’s head and pulling him closer … closer …
Christian ghosted his mouth across Steve’s, the barest brush of lips on lips, eliciting a quiet, needy moan deep in Steve’s throat. As if that was the signal he’d been waiting for, Christian dove in for another kiss - a real kiss - mouth open … demanding - and receiving - entrance, allowing their tongues to meet and mate in a lazy duel. The only sounds in the room were soft sighs and the occasional breathy moan as one or the other of them breathed in deeply through their nose.
They broke briefly to pant for air until Steve let out a whimper and brought them back together. Christian pulled away slowly, nipping at Steve’s chin and lower lip along the way. Steve returned the favor by nibbling at Christian’s upper lip and planting a tiny bite on the tip of his nose. Christian cupped Steve’s face in both hands and chuckled as he leaned in for more hungry kisses. And if the taste of Steve’s happy tears flavored the kiss, neither man was about to say anything as they reveled in each other’s closeness.
With a gasp, Steve pushed Christian away gently. He wiped the moisture off of his face saying, “We can’t … we haven’t …”
“Shhhhhhh, babe,” Christian said quietly. “It’s okay. We’ve waited long enough. Talkin’ ain’t gonna change the way we feel about each other.” Steve hesitated. He blinked slowly and swallowed. “I’m not askin’ for anything right now … today,” Christian continued. “Need time to take care of you the way you been takin’ care of me. But once you’re feelin’ up to it? ….. ” he trailed off with a sexy smile.
A choked sob escaped from Steve’s throat and the next thing he knew he was being held in Christian’s strong arms as he cried out all of the pain and heartache of the past few days.
>^..^<
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