FIC: Cartref (1/1) PG-13 RPS
TITLE: Cartref
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Ioan Gruffudd & Matthew Rhys
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: But he always comes home
DISCLAIMER: Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew Rhys belong only to themselves. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: During the filming of VAM - a sequel of sorts to Deithio
They’re not quite what they were, but that doesn’t mean things are bad. Just different. He’s learned not to ask, and Ioan’s learned not to tell, and in the middle ground there, they’ve not quite managed to figure out what to say. But Jamie’s not around as much - the hazards of acting, Matthew supposes - and there are girls and boys alike hanging round the flat now and then, and he tries very hard not to look when Ioan’s door is closed, and Ioan’s gotten to the point now where he does the same.
It’s almost startling then, coming home on a Friday night to find Ioan sprawled on the couch in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’s had since secondary school, one foot on the cushion and the other on the table, script open in his lap. Ioan’s been working steadily, as has Matthew, but Friday nights tend to be the ones where work’s put aside in search of a pint of ale and something pretty.
“Hey.”
“Oh.” Ioan looks up, and he’s got his glasses on, and his hair is disheveled, and Matthew ignores the strange feeling in his stomach when Ioan smiles at him, all rumpled and natural and just Ioan. “Hey yourself. There’s food.” He waves in the general direction of the kitchen, and Matthew can smell Thai. He heads in there, helping himself, smiling as he realizes Ioan’s gotten all the things Matthew likes as well as his own favorites. “Bring me a beer, would you?”
Matthew snags two and balances them and his plate into the lounge, settling beside Ioan on the couch. “What’s that?”
“Hmmm.” Ioan shakes his head, meaning he’s not quite through it, and he’s not formed a solid opinion. Matthew nods and opens both beers, taking a drink of his own before settling back and eating, one eye on Ioan and the other on the telly, some ancient Dr. Who episode playing on in silence.
Matthew finishes his plate and carries it to the kitchen, nicking a cookie from Ioan’s secret stash and heading to his room. He’s got tentative plans for the evening, but the sight of Ioan all dressed down for a night in makes the idea seem more appealing. He strips out of his clothes and tugs on a pair of sweats of his own and a t-shirt that’s only slightly younger than Ioan’s, but no less worse for wear.
He looks up as he finishes dressing, surprised to see Ioan in the doorway. “Hey.”
Ioan tosses the script onto Matthew’s bed. “Have a read.”
“Yeah?” It’s tradition that they do this if it’s something they’re interested in, getting another opinion, another thought. The hardest ones are when they’re not sure, and they look to each other. They’ve never been wrong - they know each other too well not to know what works for each other - but it’s still a painful process, hard to know someone knows you that well, can read you better than you can yourself, can put words to the reasons you just feel in your gut.
He starts to read and then stops, laughing and tossing the script on the bed beside him. “You’re joking, right?”
Ioan frowns, his brow furrowing slightly. “What?”
“Who do they want you for?”
“Sara asked that I read for Hob.” Matthew laughs again, delighting in Ioan’s flash of irritation. “What the fuck, Rhys?”
“Oh, no. Call me Nob.”
“You’re shitting me.” Ioan’s face breaks into his smile, the honest one that lights up his eyes and his face and causes the crinkling lines around his eyes. “We’re to make a movie together?”
“D’you think it says anything that she assumes we’re comfortable playing a couple?”
“Well, I’ve washed enough of your dirty laundry that I think we might qualify.” Ioan’s still smiling and Matthew reaches up, grabbing his hand and tumbling him down onto the bed with him. Ioan laughs and falls into him, sprawling beside Matthew on the bed and settling himself, staring up at the ceiling. “It’ll be good, yeah?”
“Aces, mate.” Matthew turns his head and smiles, and for the first time in what seems like forever, he feels comfortable, feels like he’s lying beside his best friend.
**
Being in Wales, being home makes all the difference. Matthew feels himself again, and Ioan seems better too, though maybe only to Matthew’s eyes. Either way, they share a place, they share their scenes and, God help them, they have to sing, so they share lessons. They’ve both got passable voices, so it’s not horrible, but still, it’s been a revelation.
”Put more gay into it, Matthew. More flamboyant. You’re singing show tunes. You can’t be straight about that, even if you try!” It’s all laughter, though, so he loves every second of it, loves drinking in the night air from their window and smelling Wales.
“You’re going to catch your death.”
“It’s a gorgeous, balmy night, you nutter.” He flips Ioan off and goes back to his fag, blowing smoke out the window. He shivers a little anyway, knowing Ioan’s watching him, and he’s really not dressed for the window, stripped down as he is to his boxers, but it just feels right. “You going out?”
“Not tonight.” Ioan lays down on his bed, stretched out like a cat, still not quite grown into those long legs that seem never to end. “Thought I’d stay in. Harass you a bit.”
“Oh, lucky me.” He grins and tosses Ioan the pack of cigarettes. Ioan shakes his head and puts them on the bedside table, laying down fully with his head propped on his wrist. Matthew stubs out his fag and closes the window, shivering again as he makes his way over to his bed. “So, a wild night in with absolutely fuck all to do. Unless you want to practice our rousing number one more time.”
Ioan rolls over to look at him and smiles. “Think I’ll pass.” He frowns for a moment then lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Got the new Hornblower scripts.”
Something swells in Matthew’s chest, something thick that sticks in his heart, in his lungs, in his throat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good stuff?”
“Yeah. Nice solid movie, two parts. Filming in Menorca.”
“All the old gang then?” Matthew’s careful not to look at him, careful to keep his voice neutral and light. He senses more than sees Ioan nod and swallows hard, forcing his smile in place. “Sure you’ll have a good time then.”
“Matthew…”
“You know, I think I’ll go down to the pub after all.” He gets to his feet and finds his jeans and gets dressed. “Think I could use a drink.”
“Could have one here.”
“No.” He shoves his wallet in his pocket and grabs his jacket on his way toward the door. “Don’t think that would help at all.”
**
He comes back drunk and it feels far better than it should. There’s a rough burn of alcohol in his veins and he doesn’t know what he had, but it was strong and kicked him hard in the arse. He’s thinking of getting a bottle or a thousand to see if it’ll help get him through.
He’s as quiet as he can be unlocking the door, but his hands and his eyes and his brain all seem to be wandering off like wayward sheep in opposite directions and he wonders if three can be opposites and then he has to sit down because the hallway starts spinning, and he’s not sure about up or down or sideways, but they all sort of feel like the other. The door opens beside him, and he looks up, smiling at the familiar face, the wide brown eyes that look nothing but disapproving. He thinks he’s getting used to that, though he’s not quite sure of that or anything else at the moment.
“’lo, Ioan. You’re very tall.”
“You’re very drunk.”
“Well, ‘m celebrating. Here’s to Hornblower. The best worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He lifts up his glass to toast, but there fails to be one, and the motion sends him toppling over, stretched out on the carpet in the hallway. “Why’s there swirly bits on the ceiling?”
“That’s the carpet.” Ioan’s voice is soft and soothing, and Matthew smiles at the sound. “Come on, Matthew. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Not sure that’s such a wise idea, you know. Jamie mightn’t not like it. Mightn’t like…might…Jamie’d disapprove.”
“Your bed, Matthew.”
”Oh. Too right. Excellent, mate. Spot on.” He lets Ioan help him to his feet, careful to sway away instead of close, no matter the pull. “Very smart. Obviously the brains of the operation.”
Ioan’s jaw clenches and he puts his arm around Matthew’s waist, tugging him closer. “Come on, boyo,” he whispers softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Matthew leans in, resting his head on Ioan’s shoulder. They fit together far too well, easy and smooth, and Matthew makes a noise deep in his throat. Ioan swallows and shakes his head, guiding him into the room. He shuts the door behind them and guides Matthew over to the bed, laying him on the covers.
The room’s still spinning as Matthew looks up at him, grounding himself, centering on Ioan’s face. “Know you’ve moved on, Ioan. ‘s okay. Is. I promise.”
“I haven’t moved on from you, Matthew. We’re still best mates. Still and always.”
“Right.” He nods and turns away, curling into himself as Ioan sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out, fingers grazing Matthew’s shoulder. “Should sleep, I suppose.”
Ioan’s sigh weighs on him like a blanket. His voice is soft, strange in their native Welsh. “Move over.” Matthew turns over and looks at him, eyes wide. Ioan smiles and shakes his head. “Go on, mate. Shove over.”
Matthew moves on instinct as Ioan lays beside him, stretching out. “You don’t have to do this.”
Ioan nods and closes his eyes, tugging Matthew close. “I know.”
**
He wakes up and keeps his eyes closed, reveling in the familiar feel of Ioan’s body against his. They had nights like this in London during RADA, both of them too tired and too homesick to be alone, neither of them wanting to put on the right face for anyone else. They’d curled up together and woke up together, and everything seemed a little better, closer to home.
He shifts, turning in Ioan’s loose embrace and stares over at him, the long dark lashes dusting Ioan’s cheeks. Ioan’s got this strange elegance, this innocence, especially when he sleeps. His eyes flutter and he opens them, looking directly at Matthew. “Hey.”
Matthew nods and moves again, turning on his side to face Ioan. There’s a hint of awkwardness, exacerbated by the pounding of his head, but it can only get worse if he doesn’t do or say something. “Hey.”
“How’s your head?”
“It feels big.”
“It’s not. It’s Matthew sized.”
“Did you, by chance, stuff a dead animal in my mouth after I drifted off?”
“No. Not this time.”
“Or down my shorts?”
Ioan fights his smile, and Matthew can’t help but do the same. “Again, not this time.”
Matthew nods, whimpering slightly as his head sloshes with the motion. “Oh, God. I’m never drinking again.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not drinking the rest of the shoot.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not drinking until after dinner.”
Ioan considers for a moment then smiles. “That I believe.” He reaches out, touching a errant curl that’s fallen across Matthew’s forehead. “We need to fix this, Matthew. Before it’s completely broken. Before we’re broken.”
He nods again and pulls away, sitting up and leaning against the head of the bed, pillow shoved in the small of his back. Ioan tilts his head to look up at him, his eyes not allowing Matthew any form of escape. “I don’t know how.”
“Do you want to ask me about Jamie? We’ve never talked about it. About him.”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think I want to know anything about Jamie at all.”
Ioan sighs and sits up, facing Matthew as he folds his legs on the bed. “I can’t set it right if I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”
“You’ve not done anything, Ioan. It’s all in my head.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know what any of it actually is.”
Ioan nods and frowns, staring down at the space between them on the bed. After a moment, he scoots forward and leans in, his lips cool and light against Matthew’s. Matthew freezes, his breath catching in his chest. He pulls back, eyes lowered to watch Ioan’s lips.
“What was that?”
“Me.” Ioan tells him softly. “Kissing you.”
He licks his lips, not looking away from Ioan’s. “Why?”
“Because,” Ioan whispers, leaning in again, kissing him again, “I can.”
Matthew pulls back and licks his lips again, searching out Ioan’s eyes. “Because you can? Or because you want to?”
“Both. Either.” Ioan reaches out, brushes his thumb across Matthew’s lip. “Does it matter?”
“Depends.” Matthew’s tongue brushes Ioan’s thumb inadvertently and a small shudder runs through Ioan, visible enough to see. “On if you’re kissing me because you want to kiss me, want this to be more, or if you’re kissing me because you think it’s what I want, and because you can’t think of any other way to shut me up?”
Ioan shakes his head, huffing a soft ghost of a laugh. “Jesus, Matthew. Shut up.” He kisses him again, his mouth closing warmly over Matthew’s, his tongue slipping past Matthew’s parted lips.
Matthew closes his eyes, surrenders to the pressure of Ioan’s mouth, his tongue. The kiss seems to last forever, sliding smooth and warm across Matthew’s tongue, pressure and provocation all rolled together and tasting of sleep and booze and something more. He makes another noise, unable to curb the sound as Ioan’s hand slides along his stomach, stroking over the thin, faded cotton of his shirt.
Ioan makes a noise in response, his hand slipping under Matthew’s shirt and resting against the rough hair just above his jeans, his thumb ruffling the dark strands. “D’you want this, Matthew?”
His words whisper across Matthew’s skin, and Matthew can’t help but nod, close his eyes and give in to the warmth and pressure of Ioan’s touch. He feels overwhelmed, rough around the edges, Ioan’s hands smoothing them, filing them down with light touches and hard kisses, his mouth relentless now that it’s taken the first kiss.
“Matthew,” Ioan murmurs against Matthew’s lips, tongue delving in again as he lets his hand slide lower, stroke over Matthew’s erection. Matthew can’t help but arch into his touch, whimpering against the pressure, one hand sliding tentatively along Ioan’s arm, up to his back, his neck.
“It’s not…” Matthew breaks away from him, unable to keep the fear and need from trembling through his voice. “It’s not because you’re lonely, is it? I can’t…I can’t take it if it’s because you’re lonely.”
Ioan pulls away, his dark eyes stung with hurt. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’re my best friend,” Matthew offered softly, unable to hold Ioan’s gaze. “Because you’ve not seen Jamie, or anyone for that matter, in ages, and because I need to know, need to hear it from you.”
“Why, Matthew? Anyone can say the words.”
“I know that.” He offers Ioan a weak smile and eases out from beneath his touch. “But I need to hear them, hear how they sound, because you’re an actor, Ioan. And a damn good one at that.”
**
Matthew spends the day walking around town, avoiding everything to do with the movie, and everything to do with Ioan. It’s not until later that night at the pub that he sees him again, looking up as Ioan sits across from him at the table, setting his beer carefully in front of him. “We are. Lovers. Jamie and I. Are. Were. Probably will be again.”
“I told you…”
“But if you want to know if you’re some sort of substitute for him, then I have to wonder if you know me nearly half as well as you think you do. Because who I am when I’m with you is who I am, Matthew. No artifice, no lies. You see right through them, most of the time, so I’ve stopped even trying. But…I couldn’t kiss you and not mean it, Matthew. Not alone, not just the two of us. And I think you know that. If you want to look.”
“I don’t want to be lovers, Ioan.”
“O-oh.” He frowns at his beer then takes a drink, his tongue licking away the residual foam that darkens his upper lip. “Then…well, then what’s this all about?”
Matthew laughs, and he thinks it might be the first honest one he’s unleashed in a while. “You’re my best friend. We share…everything. Thoughts, feelings, insecurities, fears, take away, porn collections and rent. You’re there when I need a shoulder or a kick in the arse, and I’m there when you need the same.”
“That’s not changed.”
He considers for a moment then nods. “No. You’re right. But…when you went away, you were so excited and your life was different and changing and amazing and…and you didn’t share it with me. You shared it with him. You shared everything with him.” He traces the lip of his mug then lifts it and takes a sip of his beer. “Every call was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ and you had in-jokes and private things that I was kept out of. You said you never locked the door behind you, but sometimes, Ioan…sometimes I didn’t know where the door even was. You were off in your own little world that I could see, but couldn’t get to, no matter how hard I tried.”
“So I was a bad friend.”
“No. You were very human. And I was afraid. And I thought things were getting better, and then…”
“I brought up Jamie last night.”
“No.” He drains the rest of his beer. “Well, yes. But…this part, these roles. I see so much of us in them, that maybe I did wonder. If we should…”
“We could. We can.”
“You don’t need another lover, Ioan.” He rubs the ring his beer left, smearing the dark wetness out over the tabletop. “It’s like the scene when the breakdown comes in the movie, yeah? Doesn’t matter that they’re lovers. Doesn’t matter anything at all. Just matters that when he needs him, the other’s there. I don’t need the rest if I have that.”
“And what if…what if I want both?”
Matthew exhales shakily and shrugs, offering Ioan a smile and signaling for another round. “Do you?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.”
Matthew nods. “Fair enough.” He reaches out and rubs his fingers lightly over the back of Ioan’s hand. “So take your time and think it through, decide. I’m your best mate, Ioan. Which means I'll be here when you’ve got it sorted."
“And let me down easy?”
“Dunno, mate. You’re reasonably attractive. Might just take you up on it.”
“So there’s hope for me yet?”
Matthew strokes the back of Ioan’s hand with his thumb. “Hope for us all, boyo. Hope for us all.”
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Ioan Gruffudd & Matthew Rhys
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: But he always comes home
DISCLAIMER: Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew Rhys belong only to themselves. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: During the filming of VAM - a sequel of sorts to Deithio
They’re not quite what they were, but that doesn’t mean things are bad. Just different. He’s learned not to ask, and Ioan’s learned not to tell, and in the middle ground there, they’ve not quite managed to figure out what to say. But Jamie’s not around as much - the hazards of acting, Matthew supposes - and there are girls and boys alike hanging round the flat now and then, and he tries very hard not to look when Ioan’s door is closed, and Ioan’s gotten to the point now where he does the same.
It’s almost startling then, coming home on a Friday night to find Ioan sprawled on the couch in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’s had since secondary school, one foot on the cushion and the other on the table, script open in his lap. Ioan’s been working steadily, as has Matthew, but Friday nights tend to be the ones where work’s put aside in search of a pint of ale and something pretty.
“Hey.”
“Oh.” Ioan looks up, and he’s got his glasses on, and his hair is disheveled, and Matthew ignores the strange feeling in his stomach when Ioan smiles at him, all rumpled and natural and just Ioan. “Hey yourself. There’s food.” He waves in the general direction of the kitchen, and Matthew can smell Thai. He heads in there, helping himself, smiling as he realizes Ioan’s gotten all the things Matthew likes as well as his own favorites. “Bring me a beer, would you?”
Matthew snags two and balances them and his plate into the lounge, settling beside Ioan on the couch. “What’s that?”
“Hmmm.” Ioan shakes his head, meaning he’s not quite through it, and he’s not formed a solid opinion. Matthew nods and opens both beers, taking a drink of his own before settling back and eating, one eye on Ioan and the other on the telly, some ancient Dr. Who episode playing on in silence.
Matthew finishes his plate and carries it to the kitchen, nicking a cookie from Ioan’s secret stash and heading to his room. He’s got tentative plans for the evening, but the sight of Ioan all dressed down for a night in makes the idea seem more appealing. He strips out of his clothes and tugs on a pair of sweats of his own and a t-shirt that’s only slightly younger than Ioan’s, but no less worse for wear.
He looks up as he finishes dressing, surprised to see Ioan in the doorway. “Hey.”
Ioan tosses the script onto Matthew’s bed. “Have a read.”
“Yeah?” It’s tradition that they do this if it’s something they’re interested in, getting another opinion, another thought. The hardest ones are when they’re not sure, and they look to each other. They’ve never been wrong - they know each other too well not to know what works for each other - but it’s still a painful process, hard to know someone knows you that well, can read you better than you can yourself, can put words to the reasons you just feel in your gut.
He starts to read and then stops, laughing and tossing the script on the bed beside him. “You’re joking, right?”
Ioan frowns, his brow furrowing slightly. “What?”
“Who do they want you for?”
“Sara asked that I read for Hob.” Matthew laughs again, delighting in Ioan’s flash of irritation. “What the fuck, Rhys?”
“Oh, no. Call me Nob.”
“You’re shitting me.” Ioan’s face breaks into his smile, the honest one that lights up his eyes and his face and causes the crinkling lines around his eyes. “We’re to make a movie together?”
“D’you think it says anything that she assumes we’re comfortable playing a couple?”
“Well, I’ve washed enough of your dirty laundry that I think we might qualify.” Ioan’s still smiling and Matthew reaches up, grabbing his hand and tumbling him down onto the bed with him. Ioan laughs and falls into him, sprawling beside Matthew on the bed and settling himself, staring up at the ceiling. “It’ll be good, yeah?”
“Aces, mate.” Matthew turns his head and smiles, and for the first time in what seems like forever, he feels comfortable, feels like he’s lying beside his best friend.
**
Being in Wales, being home makes all the difference. Matthew feels himself again, and Ioan seems better too, though maybe only to Matthew’s eyes. Either way, they share a place, they share their scenes and, God help them, they have to sing, so they share lessons. They’ve both got passable voices, so it’s not horrible, but still, it’s been a revelation.
”Put more gay into it, Matthew. More flamboyant. You’re singing show tunes. You can’t be straight about that, even if you try!” It’s all laughter, though, so he loves every second of it, loves drinking in the night air from their window and smelling Wales.
“You’re going to catch your death.”
“It’s a gorgeous, balmy night, you nutter.” He flips Ioan off and goes back to his fag, blowing smoke out the window. He shivers a little anyway, knowing Ioan’s watching him, and he’s really not dressed for the window, stripped down as he is to his boxers, but it just feels right. “You going out?”
“Not tonight.” Ioan lays down on his bed, stretched out like a cat, still not quite grown into those long legs that seem never to end. “Thought I’d stay in. Harass you a bit.”
“Oh, lucky me.” He grins and tosses Ioan the pack of cigarettes. Ioan shakes his head and puts them on the bedside table, laying down fully with his head propped on his wrist. Matthew stubs out his fag and closes the window, shivering again as he makes his way over to his bed. “So, a wild night in with absolutely fuck all to do. Unless you want to practice our rousing number one more time.”
Ioan rolls over to look at him and smiles. “Think I’ll pass.” He frowns for a moment then lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Got the new Hornblower scripts.”
Something swells in Matthew’s chest, something thick that sticks in his heart, in his lungs, in his throat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good stuff?”
“Yeah. Nice solid movie, two parts. Filming in Menorca.”
“All the old gang then?” Matthew’s careful not to look at him, careful to keep his voice neutral and light. He senses more than sees Ioan nod and swallows hard, forcing his smile in place. “Sure you’ll have a good time then.”
“Matthew…”
“You know, I think I’ll go down to the pub after all.” He gets to his feet and finds his jeans and gets dressed. “Think I could use a drink.”
“Could have one here.”
“No.” He shoves his wallet in his pocket and grabs his jacket on his way toward the door. “Don’t think that would help at all.”
**
He comes back drunk and it feels far better than it should. There’s a rough burn of alcohol in his veins and he doesn’t know what he had, but it was strong and kicked him hard in the arse. He’s thinking of getting a bottle or a thousand to see if it’ll help get him through.
He’s as quiet as he can be unlocking the door, but his hands and his eyes and his brain all seem to be wandering off like wayward sheep in opposite directions and he wonders if three can be opposites and then he has to sit down because the hallway starts spinning, and he’s not sure about up or down or sideways, but they all sort of feel like the other. The door opens beside him, and he looks up, smiling at the familiar face, the wide brown eyes that look nothing but disapproving. He thinks he’s getting used to that, though he’s not quite sure of that or anything else at the moment.
“’lo, Ioan. You’re very tall.”
“You’re very drunk.”
“Well, ‘m celebrating. Here’s to Hornblower. The best worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He lifts up his glass to toast, but there fails to be one, and the motion sends him toppling over, stretched out on the carpet in the hallway. “Why’s there swirly bits on the ceiling?”
“That’s the carpet.” Ioan’s voice is soft and soothing, and Matthew smiles at the sound. “Come on, Matthew. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Not sure that’s such a wise idea, you know. Jamie mightn’t not like it. Mightn’t like…might…Jamie’d disapprove.”
“Your bed, Matthew.”
”Oh. Too right. Excellent, mate. Spot on.” He lets Ioan help him to his feet, careful to sway away instead of close, no matter the pull. “Very smart. Obviously the brains of the operation.”
Ioan’s jaw clenches and he puts his arm around Matthew’s waist, tugging him closer. “Come on, boyo,” he whispers softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Matthew leans in, resting his head on Ioan’s shoulder. They fit together far too well, easy and smooth, and Matthew makes a noise deep in his throat. Ioan swallows and shakes his head, guiding him into the room. He shuts the door behind them and guides Matthew over to the bed, laying him on the covers.
The room’s still spinning as Matthew looks up at him, grounding himself, centering on Ioan’s face. “Know you’ve moved on, Ioan. ‘s okay. Is. I promise.”
“I haven’t moved on from you, Matthew. We’re still best mates. Still and always.”
“Right.” He nods and turns away, curling into himself as Ioan sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out, fingers grazing Matthew’s shoulder. “Should sleep, I suppose.”
Ioan’s sigh weighs on him like a blanket. His voice is soft, strange in their native Welsh. “Move over.” Matthew turns over and looks at him, eyes wide. Ioan smiles and shakes his head. “Go on, mate. Shove over.”
Matthew moves on instinct as Ioan lays beside him, stretching out. “You don’t have to do this.”
Ioan nods and closes his eyes, tugging Matthew close. “I know.”
**
He wakes up and keeps his eyes closed, reveling in the familiar feel of Ioan’s body against his. They had nights like this in London during RADA, both of them too tired and too homesick to be alone, neither of them wanting to put on the right face for anyone else. They’d curled up together and woke up together, and everything seemed a little better, closer to home.
He shifts, turning in Ioan’s loose embrace and stares over at him, the long dark lashes dusting Ioan’s cheeks. Ioan’s got this strange elegance, this innocence, especially when he sleeps. His eyes flutter and he opens them, looking directly at Matthew. “Hey.”
Matthew nods and moves again, turning on his side to face Ioan. There’s a hint of awkwardness, exacerbated by the pounding of his head, but it can only get worse if he doesn’t do or say something. “Hey.”
“How’s your head?”
“It feels big.”
“It’s not. It’s Matthew sized.”
“Did you, by chance, stuff a dead animal in my mouth after I drifted off?”
“No. Not this time.”
“Or down my shorts?”
Ioan fights his smile, and Matthew can’t help but do the same. “Again, not this time.”
Matthew nods, whimpering slightly as his head sloshes with the motion. “Oh, God. I’m never drinking again.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not drinking the rest of the shoot.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not drinking until after dinner.”
Ioan considers for a moment then smiles. “That I believe.” He reaches out, touching a errant curl that’s fallen across Matthew’s forehead. “We need to fix this, Matthew. Before it’s completely broken. Before we’re broken.”
He nods again and pulls away, sitting up and leaning against the head of the bed, pillow shoved in the small of his back. Ioan tilts his head to look up at him, his eyes not allowing Matthew any form of escape. “I don’t know how.”
“Do you want to ask me about Jamie? We’ve never talked about it. About him.”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think I want to know anything about Jamie at all.”
Ioan sighs and sits up, facing Matthew as he folds his legs on the bed. “I can’t set it right if I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”
“You’ve not done anything, Ioan. It’s all in my head.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know what any of it actually is.”
Ioan nods and frowns, staring down at the space between them on the bed. After a moment, he scoots forward and leans in, his lips cool and light against Matthew’s. Matthew freezes, his breath catching in his chest. He pulls back, eyes lowered to watch Ioan’s lips.
“What was that?”
“Me.” Ioan tells him softly. “Kissing you.”
He licks his lips, not looking away from Ioan’s. “Why?”
“Because,” Ioan whispers, leaning in again, kissing him again, “I can.”
Matthew pulls back and licks his lips again, searching out Ioan’s eyes. “Because you can? Or because you want to?”
“Both. Either.” Ioan reaches out, brushes his thumb across Matthew’s lip. “Does it matter?”
“Depends.” Matthew’s tongue brushes Ioan’s thumb inadvertently and a small shudder runs through Ioan, visible enough to see. “On if you’re kissing me because you want to kiss me, want this to be more, or if you’re kissing me because you think it’s what I want, and because you can’t think of any other way to shut me up?”
Ioan shakes his head, huffing a soft ghost of a laugh. “Jesus, Matthew. Shut up.” He kisses him again, his mouth closing warmly over Matthew’s, his tongue slipping past Matthew’s parted lips.
Matthew closes his eyes, surrenders to the pressure of Ioan’s mouth, his tongue. The kiss seems to last forever, sliding smooth and warm across Matthew’s tongue, pressure and provocation all rolled together and tasting of sleep and booze and something more. He makes another noise, unable to curb the sound as Ioan’s hand slides along his stomach, stroking over the thin, faded cotton of his shirt.
Ioan makes a noise in response, his hand slipping under Matthew’s shirt and resting against the rough hair just above his jeans, his thumb ruffling the dark strands. “D’you want this, Matthew?”
His words whisper across Matthew’s skin, and Matthew can’t help but nod, close his eyes and give in to the warmth and pressure of Ioan’s touch. He feels overwhelmed, rough around the edges, Ioan’s hands smoothing them, filing them down with light touches and hard kisses, his mouth relentless now that it’s taken the first kiss.
“Matthew,” Ioan murmurs against Matthew’s lips, tongue delving in again as he lets his hand slide lower, stroke over Matthew’s erection. Matthew can’t help but arch into his touch, whimpering against the pressure, one hand sliding tentatively along Ioan’s arm, up to his back, his neck.
“It’s not…” Matthew breaks away from him, unable to keep the fear and need from trembling through his voice. “It’s not because you’re lonely, is it? I can’t…I can’t take it if it’s because you’re lonely.”
Ioan pulls away, his dark eyes stung with hurt. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’re my best friend,” Matthew offered softly, unable to hold Ioan’s gaze. “Because you’ve not seen Jamie, or anyone for that matter, in ages, and because I need to know, need to hear it from you.”
“Why, Matthew? Anyone can say the words.”
“I know that.” He offers Ioan a weak smile and eases out from beneath his touch. “But I need to hear them, hear how they sound, because you’re an actor, Ioan. And a damn good one at that.”
**
Matthew spends the day walking around town, avoiding everything to do with the movie, and everything to do with Ioan. It’s not until later that night at the pub that he sees him again, looking up as Ioan sits across from him at the table, setting his beer carefully in front of him. “We are. Lovers. Jamie and I. Are. Were. Probably will be again.”
“I told you…”
“But if you want to know if you’re some sort of substitute for him, then I have to wonder if you know me nearly half as well as you think you do. Because who I am when I’m with you is who I am, Matthew. No artifice, no lies. You see right through them, most of the time, so I’ve stopped even trying. But…I couldn’t kiss you and not mean it, Matthew. Not alone, not just the two of us. And I think you know that. If you want to look.”
“I don’t want to be lovers, Ioan.”
“O-oh.” He frowns at his beer then takes a drink, his tongue licking away the residual foam that darkens his upper lip. “Then…well, then what’s this all about?”
Matthew laughs, and he thinks it might be the first honest one he’s unleashed in a while. “You’re my best friend. We share…everything. Thoughts, feelings, insecurities, fears, take away, porn collections and rent. You’re there when I need a shoulder or a kick in the arse, and I’m there when you need the same.”
“That’s not changed.”
He considers for a moment then nods. “No. You’re right. But…when you went away, you were so excited and your life was different and changing and amazing and…and you didn’t share it with me. You shared it with him. You shared everything with him.” He traces the lip of his mug then lifts it and takes a sip of his beer. “Every call was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ and you had in-jokes and private things that I was kept out of. You said you never locked the door behind you, but sometimes, Ioan…sometimes I didn’t know where the door even was. You were off in your own little world that I could see, but couldn’t get to, no matter how hard I tried.”
“So I was a bad friend.”
“No. You were very human. And I was afraid. And I thought things were getting better, and then…”
“I brought up Jamie last night.”
“No.” He drains the rest of his beer. “Well, yes. But…this part, these roles. I see so much of us in them, that maybe I did wonder. If we should…”
“We could. We can.”
“You don’t need another lover, Ioan.” He rubs the ring his beer left, smearing the dark wetness out over the tabletop. “It’s like the scene when the breakdown comes in the movie, yeah? Doesn’t matter that they’re lovers. Doesn’t matter anything at all. Just matters that when he needs him, the other’s there. I don’t need the rest if I have that.”
“And what if…what if I want both?”
Matthew exhales shakily and shrugs, offering Ioan a smile and signaling for another round. “Do you?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.”
Matthew nods. “Fair enough.” He reaches out and rubs his fingers lightly over the back of Ioan’s hand. “So take your time and think it through, decide. I’m your best mate, Ioan. Which means I'll be here when you’ve got it sorted."
“And let me down easy?”
“Dunno, mate. You’re reasonably attractive. Might just take you up on it.”
“So there’s hope for me yet?”
Matthew strokes the back of Ioan’s hand with his thumb. “Hope for us all, boyo. Hope for us all.”