Slow Like Sunday Morning, Part Two, Kane RPS/Leverage RPS, NC-17
Fandom: Kane RPS/Leverage RPS
Title: Slow Like Sunday Morning, Part Two ( Part One)
Pairing/Characters: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, Timothy Hutton, Aldis Hodge, Jason Southard, Will Amend, Ryan Baker, Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17 (for sex but also for theme and violence)
Word Count: 3000
Summary: Tim begins to notice that something isn't right. Jensen tells Chris that Steve is worried about him. And Chris is just trying to find his balance amid it all.
A/Ns & Warnings: THIS IS ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP FIC. Turn back now if this is not your thing. This began as comment fic and took on a life of it's own. First part of probably five.
"It's nothing." Chris turned away and pulled his shirt down. "I'm fine."
"That's not nothing." Tim insisted, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging up until Chris slapped his hand away. "That...looks like a broken rib."
Chris sighed and leaned against the table in his trailer. He hadn't meant anyone to see it, and if Tim had ever learned to knock before opening a door, no one would have. He had the next few days off and the bruising would be mostly gone by the time he had to be back on set.
"It ain't broken, just bruised. And it's fine. I'm fine."
Tim was frowning at him, arms crossed. "What did it this time?"
Chris pulled a hand through his hair, forced himself not to wince even though it fucking hurt and sighed again. "Stupidity? Exhaustion? Take your pick."
"You going to tell me or do I have to stand here all night staring at you?"
Chris wanted to shove him out of the way, wanted to tell him to let it be, that it was nothing, that Steve was waiting...but he didn't. He just hung his head and told the story.
"Steve's plane was late, I waited at the damn airport for two hours, and I had a few drinks. By the time we got back to the apartment I was feeling it, and we were horsing around. Some kid left some toys on the walk..." He shook his head. "Stupid, tired...probably would have been worse if Steve hadn't caught me before my damn head hit the rail."
The whole truth was a little darker than that, though everything he said was true. Steve had been in a foul mood, and nothing Chris did on the way back to the apartment helped. By the time they were walking up to the stairs, Chris was pissed and he'd been provoking Steve, trying to get something more than two words out of him.
What he'd gotten wasn't words.
Tim was squinting at him and Chris couldn't tell what he was thinking, then suddenly he just nodded and stood. "You headed home?"
"Yeah, promised Steve I'd be home for dinner. He's cooking." Chris didn't want to say that he didn't want to piss Steve off again with being late. What he saw the night before was still sitting pretty heavy inside him, and all he wanted was to make it okay.
"Let me give you a lift."
Chris frowned. "I got my truck." And showing up with Tim would be one way to set Steve off. He'd been working double time to convince Steve that Chris wasn't fooling around with anyone.
Tim opened the door of the trailer and stepped out before turning to look at Chris. "I want you to promise me something, Christian."
"Man, anything. You know that." Chris followed him out, stopping to lock the door before he turned back.
Tim laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "You call me, anytime, anyplace, day or night. Anytime, you get me?"
Chris felt himself blushing and pulled away, nodding haphazardly and trying to look indignant. "Seriously? I'm not some charity case, Hutton."
He stalked away, hands shoved in his pockets to hide the way they're shaking and stopped once he was out of sight to drag air into his lungs. It wasn't like he was some fucking battered woman.
He was Christian Fucking Kane, and he could damn well take care of himself.
Except that he hadn't. Not once. He told himself it was because he could really hurt Steve. He was the one who had training. He was the one who knew how to fight. Steve was just lashing out in pain. He was still stinging from the way they'd left things before…when Chris headed to Nashville without him.
Steve hadn't let go of it yet, hadn't totally forgiven him, and that was okay. Chris could understand it. Steve didn't completely trust him not to fuck this up again…and Chris was going to do whatever it took to make sure he didn't. Even if that meant taking the brunt of his anger sometimes.
A few bruises were nothing after the way he hurt the man who mattered the most to him.
"He's going to be here any minute." Steve said, pulling a beer out of the fridge and popping the top. He checked the clock again and crossed to the stove, opening the oven to check on his roast.
"I'm almost done." Jensen responded, looking up from the cake he was attempting to frost.
Steve couldn't help laughing at the site of Jensen Ackles sitting in Chris' kitchen with chocolate frosting on his nose. "Dude, you're a mess." He tossed a towel at him, then turned as he heard Chris at the door. "He's here." He put his beer on the counter and went out to greet him. "Hey."
"Hey." Chris dropped his keys, but didn't look up.
Steve moved in, sliding his hands over Chris' hips. "How was your day?"
"Long." Chris said, his eyes flicking up and away.
"You okay?"
Chris shook his head and seemed to pull himself together, kissing Steve's lips lightly. "Yeah. Tired."
"Well, you better wake up, because we are taking you out."
"We?" Chris frowned at him. "Out…what? You said dinner."
Steve nodded, grinning. "Dinner's in the oven. After we eat, we are taking my birthday boy out."
Chris' eyes lit up in realization and he nodded. "My birthday is two days away…and we have to get the guys early tomorrow."
"So we won't be late." Jensen said from the doorway to the kitchen, making Chris look up.
Chris pulled away and crossed to Jensen. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Surprise." Jensen said, smirking as Chris grabbed him into a hug. "I called Steve last week, said Daneel and I were headed this way. Thought we could stop and take you out."
"Daneel's here?"
"Actually, not right now…she had a headache."
"Guys night." Steve said, moving past them. He downed the last of his beer and started to set the table. Chris didn't seem all that interested, but Steve knew that once they got him out, he'd enjoy himself. He always did.
"Seriously, I'm wiped out." Chris said. "You made me cake?"
"He even let me frost it." Jensen said playfully, running a finger through the frosting and sticking it in Chris' face. When Chris didn't respond, Jensen licked it clean and looked at Steve.
"Why don't you go change." Steve offered. "Dinner's almost ready."
Chris nodded and walked away. Steve sighed. "See what I mean?"
Jensen nodded. "I haven't seen him like that before. What's bugging him?"
Steve shook his head. "Hell if I know. When I ask he just tells me he's fine."
"You two are…" Jensen rolled his eyes and smirked. "I mean, back to normal in the bedroom?"
Steve nodded as he pulled the roast out of the oven. "Better than ever, actually. But whenever we aren't on stage or in bed, he's like that. Depressed or something."
"Maybe he's just tired. I mean shooting a series can take a lot out of you, and then to add the shows and rehearsals…"
Steve realized it was a lot and Chris was a physical guy, went all out at everything he did. "Maybe. I just…I'm worried."
Jensen pulled three beers out of the fridge and put them on the table. "Okay, so maybe we stay in instead of taking him out?"
Steve really wanted to go out, but they had a bottle of Jack in the cupboard and at least at home they could relax and not have to hide who they were. "Yeah, okay. I'll go let him know. You finish this."
"Hey." Chris looked up from where he sat on the end of the bed. Steve smiled softly and knelt in front of him, running his hands up Chris' thighs. "You win, we'll stay in tonight…have you in bed early."
Chris leaned in to him, kissing Steve softly. "Thank you. I just don't have it in me tonight."
"Hey, you sure you're okay?"
"I'm good. Just let me change my shirt. It smells like smoke from the set."
Steve stood and pulled Chris up with him. "You could just take it off, let me ogle you through dinner."
Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Jen would love that." He walked away, pulling his shirt up and off and tossing it into the corner.
"Ow." Steve murmured as his eyes caught on the bruising on Chris' ribs. He let one hand glide over the bruise as his eyes skipped up to Chris' eyes in the mirror.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." Chris answered, looking away.
Steve had gotten used to the idea that Chris was a rough and tumble guy who refused to let anyone do his stunts and bruises and injuries came as part of the package.
"If you two are having sex in there, I'm starting dinner without you." Jensen called and Steve kissed Chris on the shoulder.
"I'll be out in a minute." Chris said, leaning back to grab a quick kiss.
"Okay." Steve left him to pull on a clean shirt and went to serve dinner. With any luck, having Jensen around for the weekend would help Steve pull Chris out of his funk.
It took three beers for Chris to start to loosen up, and then the bottle of Jack came out as they moved from the kitchen into the living room. It was inevitable with the three of them in one room that guitars would come out, and the bottle would get passed around, and it didn't take long after that for the alcohol to burn away the cautious fear.
Chris relaxed next to Steve on the couch as Steve and Jensen played. Steve was mellow, his eyes closed as he strummed. Chris cradled the bottle in his hands. This was familiar and comfortable. The way it used to be.
The way he wanted it to be forever. He closed his eyes and let the music move through him. He felt the bottle lift and opened his eyes. He hadn't realized they'd stopped playing, or that he'd dozed off. Steve smiled down at him indulgently. "Jensen's heading back to his hotel."
Chris inhaled and stretched before he let Steve pull him up off the couch. He hugged his friend tight and held on for a minute before pulling back. "You should sing with us Sunday. It'll be good."
"Maybe." Jensen agreed. "Get some sleep. You look like you need it."
Chris nodded. "I will."
Steve walked Jensen to the door, locking it behind him. "You need to go to bed." Steve said.
"Not gonna argue." Chris picked his way around the guitars and headed for the bedroom, already shedding clothes.
"I'll get the guys in the morning. I want you to sleep." Steve kicked off his shoes and went to adjust the blankets.
"I'm not an invalid, Steve, I can get up with you."
"No."
Chris shivered at the tone in his voice.
Steve came and pulled him close. "You're exhausted all the time. You need to rest. I don't want you getting sick…or hurt." His hand rubbed over the bruises on Chris' ribs. "I mean it. You're not getting out of bed until rehearsal."
That sounded so good, Chris wasn't really inclined to argue beyond what he had already. He let Steve pull him toward the bed. "Okay, fine. I'll sleep and stay in bed until rehearsal…but it will be sad and lonely all by myself."
Steve grinned into the skin of his neck as they fell together to the mattress. "I never said you had to be alone…I can drop them off at their hotel and come home to keep you company."
Chris pressed back against him, half wanting to start something, but his body was dragging him toward sleep instead, and Steve's soft murmuring in his ear lulled him the rest of the way down.
The rehearsal space was buzzing with energy as they finished rehearsal with Jensen jumping in to sing along on a couple of songs. Steve was smoking on his guitar, grinning from ear to ear through the whole time they were on stage.
Chris left Jason and Steve jamming and headed for the bar, grabbing a beer before settling into a chair at one of the tables. Jensen joined him, bringing his own bottle of beer and watching the guitars sizzle on stage. "You guys sound really good."
Chris hears the "again" and the "finally" that Jensen doesn't say. He knows that their last gigs before the break had been…less than spectacular. The stress between him and Steve had bled out into everything. "Steve's playing like he's possessed." Chris acknowledged, lifting his beer.
"They both are." Jensen watched them for a minute, leaning forward, then ever so slightly leaning toward Chris. "He's worried about you." Jensen's eyes flicked up to his and held. "Should I be?"
"Worried?" Chris frowned and shook his head. "What about?"
Jensen lifted an eyebrow. "Says you've been depressed, quiet. That you don't sleep enough and you don't eat well and that every time he sees you you've got more bruises."
Chris bristled at the insinuation, like somehow he was to blame. Though maybe he was. He shook his head and took a long drink from his bottle. "You know me, work hard, play harder. I'm fine."
Jensen's eyes narrowed and for a minute, Chris was sure he'd see through the half truth. "You'd tell me, right?" Jensen asked.
"Tell you what?" Chris asked, his eyes tracking to where Steve was, head thrown back as he played.
"If something was really wrong?"
Chris blinked at suddenly burning eyes and nodded, swallowing as he glanced at Jensen. "Course. But nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Steve and I are fine. The show is great. The music's even better. I've never been happier."
Jensen nodded slowly. "You know, they have stunt people for a reason, right?"
He was looking at Chris differently now, his eyes on Chris' shirt, right where the bruising was. "Steve told me you look like you got broken ribs."
"They're not broken." Chris said a little more defensively than he meant to. He sighed and picked at the label on his beer.
"I'm just saying…somewhere along the line you're gonna get really hurt. You don't need to keep proving yourself, okay? Everyone knows you're tough." Jensen sat back and lifted his beer to his lips.
"It isn't about being tough. It's about doing the job." Chris replied, settling back himself. This was somehow safer territory, two actors talking about the job.
"Well, the job shouldn't send you to the ER every week. That's all I'm saying."
Chris sighed and looked up as Steve laughed and set his guitar aside. "I know. I know. I'll be more careful, okay?"
Jensen smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That's all I'm getting at." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, it's Jeff."
"You still playing with him?"
"Whenever I can." Jensen said, flipping the phone open. "Hey, Jeff. Let me get outside."
Chris watched him go, shaking his head. He'd never understand the way Jensen could flip from Daneel to Jeff and back again…or how Daneel and Jeff could let him.
"Where's he going?" Steve asked as he straddled the chair next to him.
"Jeff called."
Steve chuckled and stole a sip of Chris' beer. "Then we've lost him for the night. He's probably in the alley having phone sex."
"I did not want that image in my head, thanks." Chris pushed him playfully away and stole his beer back. He tossed off the last of it and stood. "We should get packed up before we get drunk…because when we do it after, things get broken."
Steve chuckled and stood, following Chris back to the stage where Ryan was already half way through breaking down so they could haul everything to Dante's the next night. "Tell me again why we don't have roadies?" Jason asked as they packed up.
"Because we can't afford to pay them?" Ryan said, looking up. "Unless you're giving up your take to pay them?"
"Not likely. We should just get some of the fangirls to do it." Jason laughed. "Wouldn't even need to pay them."
Chris let the banter wash over him, taking his guitar case down to the side door. As Steve came off stage with his, Chris stuck a finger in Steve's pocket and turned him so that he could press Steve into the wall. He kissed him slow and wet, slowly sliding them both into the shadows just off stage.
"Mmmm…what was that for?" Steve asked when Chris let him breathe again.
"Watching you up there tonight…god I love when you play." Chris whispered, kissing over his jaw and nuzzling into his neck. "Missed this."
Chris wanted to get down on his knees and suck Steve into his mouth, right there. As if reading his mind, Steve turned them so Chris was pressed into the wall. "Better to wait until we're home. Eyes."
Chris shook his head. His hands caressed over Steve's chest and up to his face. "Don't care."
Steve actually stepped back, grabbing his hands. "Yes, you do." He was frowning, which was the exact opposite of what Chris had been looking for. Chris pulled Steve back with his fingers still in Steve's front pocket and kissed him again.
"I want you."
Steve actually chuckled into his mouth. "And I want you…god I want you so much…but we can't…not here."
Chris gave in, because of course, he was right. He let go of the feeling in his chest, the tight clenching that felt like rejection and smirked. "Your loss, I was going to give you the best blow job of your life." Chris ducked out under his arm and went to give Jensen hell over his dirty phone call.
Title: Slow Like Sunday Morning, Part Two ( Part One)
Pairing/Characters: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, Timothy Hutton, Aldis Hodge, Jason Southard, Will Amend, Ryan Baker, Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17 (for sex but also for theme and violence)
Word Count: 3000
Summary: Tim begins to notice that something isn't right. Jensen tells Chris that Steve is worried about him. And Chris is just trying to find his balance amid it all.
A/Ns & Warnings: THIS IS ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP FIC. Turn back now if this is not your thing. This began as comment fic and took on a life of it's own. First part of probably five.
"It's nothing." Chris turned away and pulled his shirt down. "I'm fine."
"That's not nothing." Tim insisted, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging up until Chris slapped his hand away. "That...looks like a broken rib."
Chris sighed and leaned against the table in his trailer. He hadn't meant anyone to see it, and if Tim had ever learned to knock before opening a door, no one would have. He had the next few days off and the bruising would be mostly gone by the time he had to be back on set.
"It ain't broken, just bruised. And it's fine. I'm fine."
Tim was frowning at him, arms crossed. "What did it this time?"
Chris pulled a hand through his hair, forced himself not to wince even though it fucking hurt and sighed again. "Stupidity? Exhaustion? Take your pick."
"You going to tell me or do I have to stand here all night staring at you?"
Chris wanted to shove him out of the way, wanted to tell him to let it be, that it was nothing, that Steve was waiting...but he didn't. He just hung his head and told the story.
"Steve's plane was late, I waited at the damn airport for two hours, and I had a few drinks. By the time we got back to the apartment I was feeling it, and we were horsing around. Some kid left some toys on the walk..." He shook his head. "Stupid, tired...probably would have been worse if Steve hadn't caught me before my damn head hit the rail."
The whole truth was a little darker than that, though everything he said was true. Steve had been in a foul mood, and nothing Chris did on the way back to the apartment helped. By the time they were walking up to the stairs, Chris was pissed and he'd been provoking Steve, trying to get something more than two words out of him.
What he'd gotten wasn't words.
Tim was squinting at him and Chris couldn't tell what he was thinking, then suddenly he just nodded and stood. "You headed home?"
"Yeah, promised Steve I'd be home for dinner. He's cooking." Chris didn't want to say that he didn't want to piss Steve off again with being late. What he saw the night before was still sitting pretty heavy inside him, and all he wanted was to make it okay.
"Let me give you a lift."
Chris frowned. "I got my truck." And showing up with Tim would be one way to set Steve off. He'd been working double time to convince Steve that Chris wasn't fooling around with anyone.
Tim opened the door of the trailer and stepped out before turning to look at Chris. "I want you to promise me something, Christian."
"Man, anything. You know that." Chris followed him out, stopping to lock the door before he turned back.
Tim laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "You call me, anytime, anyplace, day or night. Anytime, you get me?"
Chris felt himself blushing and pulled away, nodding haphazardly and trying to look indignant. "Seriously? I'm not some charity case, Hutton."
He stalked away, hands shoved in his pockets to hide the way they're shaking and stopped once he was out of sight to drag air into his lungs. It wasn't like he was some fucking battered woman.
He was Christian Fucking Kane, and he could damn well take care of himself.
Except that he hadn't. Not once. He told himself it was because he could really hurt Steve. He was the one who had training. He was the one who knew how to fight. Steve was just lashing out in pain. He was still stinging from the way they'd left things before…when Chris headed to Nashville without him.
Steve hadn't let go of it yet, hadn't totally forgiven him, and that was okay. Chris could understand it. Steve didn't completely trust him not to fuck this up again…and Chris was going to do whatever it took to make sure he didn't. Even if that meant taking the brunt of his anger sometimes.
A few bruises were nothing after the way he hurt the man who mattered the most to him.
"He's going to be here any minute." Steve said, pulling a beer out of the fridge and popping the top. He checked the clock again and crossed to the stove, opening the oven to check on his roast.
"I'm almost done." Jensen responded, looking up from the cake he was attempting to frost.
Steve couldn't help laughing at the site of Jensen Ackles sitting in Chris' kitchen with chocolate frosting on his nose. "Dude, you're a mess." He tossed a towel at him, then turned as he heard Chris at the door. "He's here." He put his beer on the counter and went out to greet him. "Hey."
"Hey." Chris dropped his keys, but didn't look up.
Steve moved in, sliding his hands over Chris' hips. "How was your day?"
"Long." Chris said, his eyes flicking up and away.
"You okay?"
Chris shook his head and seemed to pull himself together, kissing Steve's lips lightly. "Yeah. Tired."
"Well, you better wake up, because we are taking you out."
"We?" Chris frowned at him. "Out…what? You said dinner."
Steve nodded, grinning. "Dinner's in the oven. After we eat, we are taking my birthday boy out."
Chris' eyes lit up in realization and he nodded. "My birthday is two days away…and we have to get the guys early tomorrow."
"So we won't be late." Jensen said from the doorway to the kitchen, making Chris look up.
Chris pulled away and crossed to Jensen. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Surprise." Jensen said, smirking as Chris grabbed him into a hug. "I called Steve last week, said Daneel and I were headed this way. Thought we could stop and take you out."
"Daneel's here?"
"Actually, not right now…she had a headache."
"Guys night." Steve said, moving past them. He downed the last of his beer and started to set the table. Chris didn't seem all that interested, but Steve knew that once they got him out, he'd enjoy himself. He always did.
"Seriously, I'm wiped out." Chris said. "You made me cake?"
"He even let me frost it." Jensen said playfully, running a finger through the frosting and sticking it in Chris' face. When Chris didn't respond, Jensen licked it clean and looked at Steve.
"Why don't you go change." Steve offered. "Dinner's almost ready."
Chris nodded and walked away. Steve sighed. "See what I mean?"
Jensen nodded. "I haven't seen him like that before. What's bugging him?"
Steve shook his head. "Hell if I know. When I ask he just tells me he's fine."
"You two are…" Jensen rolled his eyes and smirked. "I mean, back to normal in the bedroom?"
Steve nodded as he pulled the roast out of the oven. "Better than ever, actually. But whenever we aren't on stage or in bed, he's like that. Depressed or something."
"Maybe he's just tired. I mean shooting a series can take a lot out of you, and then to add the shows and rehearsals…"
Steve realized it was a lot and Chris was a physical guy, went all out at everything he did. "Maybe. I just…I'm worried."
Jensen pulled three beers out of the fridge and put them on the table. "Okay, so maybe we stay in instead of taking him out?"
Steve really wanted to go out, but they had a bottle of Jack in the cupboard and at least at home they could relax and not have to hide who they were. "Yeah, okay. I'll go let him know. You finish this."
"Hey." Chris looked up from where he sat on the end of the bed. Steve smiled softly and knelt in front of him, running his hands up Chris' thighs. "You win, we'll stay in tonight…have you in bed early."
Chris leaned in to him, kissing Steve softly. "Thank you. I just don't have it in me tonight."
"Hey, you sure you're okay?"
"I'm good. Just let me change my shirt. It smells like smoke from the set."
Steve stood and pulled Chris up with him. "You could just take it off, let me ogle you through dinner."
Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Jen would love that." He walked away, pulling his shirt up and off and tossing it into the corner.
"Ow." Steve murmured as his eyes caught on the bruising on Chris' ribs. He let one hand glide over the bruise as his eyes skipped up to Chris' eyes in the mirror.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." Chris answered, looking away.
Steve had gotten used to the idea that Chris was a rough and tumble guy who refused to let anyone do his stunts and bruises and injuries came as part of the package.
"If you two are having sex in there, I'm starting dinner without you." Jensen called and Steve kissed Chris on the shoulder.
"I'll be out in a minute." Chris said, leaning back to grab a quick kiss.
"Okay." Steve left him to pull on a clean shirt and went to serve dinner. With any luck, having Jensen around for the weekend would help Steve pull Chris out of his funk.
It took three beers for Chris to start to loosen up, and then the bottle of Jack came out as they moved from the kitchen into the living room. It was inevitable with the three of them in one room that guitars would come out, and the bottle would get passed around, and it didn't take long after that for the alcohol to burn away the cautious fear.
Chris relaxed next to Steve on the couch as Steve and Jensen played. Steve was mellow, his eyes closed as he strummed. Chris cradled the bottle in his hands. This was familiar and comfortable. The way it used to be.
The way he wanted it to be forever. He closed his eyes and let the music move through him. He felt the bottle lift and opened his eyes. He hadn't realized they'd stopped playing, or that he'd dozed off. Steve smiled down at him indulgently. "Jensen's heading back to his hotel."
Chris inhaled and stretched before he let Steve pull him up off the couch. He hugged his friend tight and held on for a minute before pulling back. "You should sing with us Sunday. It'll be good."
"Maybe." Jensen agreed. "Get some sleep. You look like you need it."
Chris nodded. "I will."
Steve walked Jensen to the door, locking it behind him. "You need to go to bed." Steve said.
"Not gonna argue." Chris picked his way around the guitars and headed for the bedroom, already shedding clothes.
"I'll get the guys in the morning. I want you to sleep." Steve kicked off his shoes and went to adjust the blankets.
"I'm not an invalid, Steve, I can get up with you."
"No."
Chris shivered at the tone in his voice.
Steve came and pulled him close. "You're exhausted all the time. You need to rest. I don't want you getting sick…or hurt." His hand rubbed over the bruises on Chris' ribs. "I mean it. You're not getting out of bed until rehearsal."
That sounded so good, Chris wasn't really inclined to argue beyond what he had already. He let Steve pull him toward the bed. "Okay, fine. I'll sleep and stay in bed until rehearsal…but it will be sad and lonely all by myself."
Steve grinned into the skin of his neck as they fell together to the mattress. "I never said you had to be alone…I can drop them off at their hotel and come home to keep you company."
Chris pressed back against him, half wanting to start something, but his body was dragging him toward sleep instead, and Steve's soft murmuring in his ear lulled him the rest of the way down.
The rehearsal space was buzzing with energy as they finished rehearsal with Jensen jumping in to sing along on a couple of songs. Steve was smoking on his guitar, grinning from ear to ear through the whole time they were on stage.
Chris left Jason and Steve jamming and headed for the bar, grabbing a beer before settling into a chair at one of the tables. Jensen joined him, bringing his own bottle of beer and watching the guitars sizzle on stage. "You guys sound really good."
Chris hears the "again" and the "finally" that Jensen doesn't say. He knows that their last gigs before the break had been…less than spectacular. The stress between him and Steve had bled out into everything. "Steve's playing like he's possessed." Chris acknowledged, lifting his beer.
"They both are." Jensen watched them for a minute, leaning forward, then ever so slightly leaning toward Chris. "He's worried about you." Jensen's eyes flicked up to his and held. "Should I be?"
"Worried?" Chris frowned and shook his head. "What about?"
Jensen lifted an eyebrow. "Says you've been depressed, quiet. That you don't sleep enough and you don't eat well and that every time he sees you you've got more bruises."
Chris bristled at the insinuation, like somehow he was to blame. Though maybe he was. He shook his head and took a long drink from his bottle. "You know me, work hard, play harder. I'm fine."
Jensen's eyes narrowed and for a minute, Chris was sure he'd see through the half truth. "You'd tell me, right?" Jensen asked.
"Tell you what?" Chris asked, his eyes tracking to where Steve was, head thrown back as he played.
"If something was really wrong?"
Chris blinked at suddenly burning eyes and nodded, swallowing as he glanced at Jensen. "Course. But nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Steve and I are fine. The show is great. The music's even better. I've never been happier."
Jensen nodded slowly. "You know, they have stunt people for a reason, right?"
He was looking at Chris differently now, his eyes on Chris' shirt, right where the bruising was. "Steve told me you look like you got broken ribs."
"They're not broken." Chris said a little more defensively than he meant to. He sighed and picked at the label on his beer.
"I'm just saying…somewhere along the line you're gonna get really hurt. You don't need to keep proving yourself, okay? Everyone knows you're tough." Jensen sat back and lifted his beer to his lips.
"It isn't about being tough. It's about doing the job." Chris replied, settling back himself. This was somehow safer territory, two actors talking about the job.
"Well, the job shouldn't send you to the ER every week. That's all I'm saying."
Chris sighed and looked up as Steve laughed and set his guitar aside. "I know. I know. I'll be more careful, okay?"
Jensen smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That's all I'm getting at." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, it's Jeff."
"You still playing with him?"
"Whenever I can." Jensen said, flipping the phone open. "Hey, Jeff. Let me get outside."
Chris watched him go, shaking his head. He'd never understand the way Jensen could flip from Daneel to Jeff and back again…or how Daneel and Jeff could let him.
"Where's he going?" Steve asked as he straddled the chair next to him.
"Jeff called."
Steve chuckled and stole a sip of Chris' beer. "Then we've lost him for the night. He's probably in the alley having phone sex."
"I did not want that image in my head, thanks." Chris pushed him playfully away and stole his beer back. He tossed off the last of it and stood. "We should get packed up before we get drunk…because when we do it after, things get broken."
Steve chuckled and stood, following Chris back to the stage where Ryan was already half way through breaking down so they could haul everything to Dante's the next night. "Tell me again why we don't have roadies?" Jason asked as they packed up.
"Because we can't afford to pay them?" Ryan said, looking up. "Unless you're giving up your take to pay them?"
"Not likely. We should just get some of the fangirls to do it." Jason laughed. "Wouldn't even need to pay them."
Chris let the banter wash over him, taking his guitar case down to the side door. As Steve came off stage with his, Chris stuck a finger in Steve's pocket and turned him so that he could press Steve into the wall. He kissed him slow and wet, slowly sliding them both into the shadows just off stage.
"Mmmm…what was that for?" Steve asked when Chris let him breathe again.
"Watching you up there tonight…god I love when you play." Chris whispered, kissing over his jaw and nuzzling into his neck. "Missed this."
Chris wanted to get down on his knees and suck Steve into his mouth, right there. As if reading his mind, Steve turned them so Chris was pressed into the wall. "Better to wait until we're home. Eyes."
Chris shook his head. His hands caressed over Steve's chest and up to his face. "Don't care."
Steve actually stepped back, grabbing his hands. "Yes, you do." He was frowning, which was the exact opposite of what Chris had been looking for. Chris pulled Steve back with his fingers still in Steve's front pocket and kissed him again.
"I want you."
Steve actually chuckled into his mouth. "And I want you…god I want you so much…but we can't…not here."
Chris gave in, because of course, he was right. He let go of the feeling in his chest, the tight clenching that felt like rejection and smirked. "Your loss, I was going to give you the best blow job of your life." Chris ducked out under his arm and went to give Jensen hell over his dirty phone call.