You Might Think I'm Crazy, Chris/Darren, R
Title: You Might Think I'm Crazy
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: R
Pairing: Chris/Darren (kind of)
Word Count: 3,400+
Summary: Chris gets kind of stuck on the pictures of Darren half-dressed and wet and extremely, extremely attractive, oh god. Chris has seen Darren wet. Darren did not look like this when they were running to their cars in the rain two weeks ago. Wow.
Spoilers: Darren has an Out Magazine cover and photoshoot. There are spoilers in the text of his interview, but no actual show spoilers in the fic.
Author Notes: Look. This is so, so self-indulgent, and we know that. No regrets. Just fic. Title is from the song "You Might Think" by The Cars. Please don't link our fics to Glee actors!
Chris is pretty exhausted when he gets home. He's used to the 17 hour days at this point, but today had been full of choreography and emotional scenes and Chris is just drained. Which is why he thinks he's just having a really vivid hallucination when he checks his mailbox and sees Darren's face, looking stubbly and vaguely wet, staring up at him from the cover of Out.
Once Chris blinks a few times and realizes he's not imagining things, he just shrugs to himself. It seems weird that Darren hadn't mentioned anything, but Chris knows how it is. The Glee machine is kind of crazy and some days Chris can't remember what interview he gave to what magazine and what photoshoot was for what and-- he's putting way too much thought into this anyway.
Chris shakes his head and walks up to his apartment, tossing his mail on the coffee table as he heads for the fridge and stares into it stupidly for a few minutes. Sadly, food doesn't magically grow there, and Chris reaches for the peanut butter and jelly before realizing he has no bread. Dammit. There's a 24-hour pizza place that delivers that Chris has been trying to stop frequenting, as he had vowed that he would be more adult and actually go grocery shopping and cook for himself, but, well. That hasn't happened. He picks up his phone and hits number four on his speed dial. He's not proud.
The problem is, now that he's waiting 30 minutes or less, there's no reason not to look at Darren's article. Not that he was trying to put it off or anything. It's no big deal, at all. So he's just going to... do it. He's going to walk right over and open up that magazine and see exactly what Out has to say about "Glee's Darren Criss."
What they have to say turns out not to be very important, because Chris doesn't make it there. He gets kind of stuck on the pictures of Darren half-dressed and wet and extremely, extremely attractive, oh god. Chris has seen Darren wet. Darren did not look like this when they were running to their cars in the rain two weeks ago. Wow.
Chris feels suddenly guilty. He's not made of stone. Darren's attractive, but Chris tries to keep a pretty firm wall up in his mind between "co-worker" and "hot guy" in general, and he's only given in and climbed over that wall with his dick in his hand a few times. He doesn't like to think about it. So Chris tries to think of anything else. Like that time Darren had laughed so hard he'd accidentally spit coffee all over Luke after dance rehearsal. Or how Darren has horrible opinions about pizza toppings. Or that time he saw Darren and Dominic practicing armpit farts.
It doesn't help. He's still definitely half hard and staring at Darren's stupid, attractive face and his stupid, attractive muscles, and his stupid, attractive body hair, and, like, Chris doesn't even like hairy guys. He doesn't understand what's happening to him.
That pizza guy should really get here, already. Because if he doesn't, Chris is going to do something stupid. Like what he's doing right now, pushing his hand even further down his sweatpants and wrapping his fingers around his cock while looking at a picture of Darren, and wow, he has really got to stop this. Except it feels so good, and the Darren in his head looks even better, sprawled out on the floor with his shirt pulled up and his shorts sliding down, just letting Chris look at him, at the dip of Darren's stomach, the jut of his hipbones, and Chris is trying desperately to remind himself that it's been a while since he jerked off, and that's why he comes in about two minutes flat.
That's the only reason, he thinks desperately, panting for breath. And oh god, he's still holding the magazine. Chris throws it to the floor and then kicks it, like the fact that it's now under his bookcase is going to erase the fact that he just jerked off thinking about Darren. Chris is pretty sure the fact that his hand is still covered in come and down his pants is evidence enough. He sighs heavily and pulls his hand out, reaching for a tissue, and when the doorbell rings he jumps and lets out a yelp he's not entirely proud of before he remembers about the pizza.
-
The next day, Chris walks into dance rehearsal and sees Darren lying on the floor, flushed and breathing heavily with his shirt pulled up and his (red, of course they're fucking red) gym shorts sliding down, and Chris turns right back around and walks out of the door. Let Zach yell at him when he pretends he was even later than he was. Chris can take it. That's not scary at all compared to the things that are running through his head right now.
-
This is stupid, Chris thinks, as he ducks behind an equipment trailer for the third time that day to avoid having to talk to Darren. It's stupid. He's an adult, and Darren is an adult, and it was just a one-time lapse in judgment. Darren never has to know, because it's never going to happen again. Besides, it's not like these things don't happen. They still make fun of Heather sometimes for the sexy dream she had about Cory.
Oh, god. Chris has to make sure no one ever, ever finds out.
"Uh, Chris?" Darren asks from behind him, and shit, how did that happen?
"Yeah! Yep, hey, what's up?" Chris asks nervously, turning around and grinning way too widely at Darren.
"I just haven't seen you around today," Darren says. "You came in late and then ran out of rehearsal like you were on fire."
"Oh yeah, that!" Chris says, aware that his voice is getting even higher in pitch. "I had a... thing. A very important thing. Is what I had."
"You okay?" Darren asks, his eyebrows furrowing a little.
"Oh yeah, I'm totally fine!" Chris says, punching Darren in the shoulder and what the fuck, Chris has never, ever done that, to anyone, what is wrong with him?
"Okay?" Darren says, shooting him a hesitant smile. "You want to go grab some lunch with me?"
"Yeah! That sounds great," Chris says. "And hey, good job on that Out shoot!"
Chris almost punches himself in the face, what the fuck? What is wrong with him? Maybe he has a brain tumor that's blocking signals from the rational part of his brain. That could explain all of this.
"Hah, yeah," Darren says, ducking his head and scratching at his neck. "I got some interesting texts this morning."
"It happens," Chris says. "But really, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Especially not your body, just. If you were worried. About that."
Brain tumor. He definitely has a brain tumor.
"That's... good to know," Darren says, tilting his head at Chris. "Maybe we should just go get that lunch now."
"Oh yeah, that, I can't," Chris says quickly. "I forgot. I have a thing. Another thing. I'm full of things, that's me. I don't-- okay, I have to go," Chris says. Then he salutes Darren and turns on his heel, and he's halfway to his trailer before he realizes what he's done.
Chris has a brain tumor. There's no other explanation. Hopefully the sweet release of death will come quickly, and he won't ever have to talk to Darren again.
-
Chris can't sleep when he gets home, even though he's exhausted from filming and trying to avoid Darren all day. He wants to sleep, really he does, but he can feel that stupid magazine, under his bookcase, judging him.
"Brain tumor," Chris mumbles to himself as he throws the covers back and marches into the living room. He turns on his lamp and winces as he reaches under the bookcase. He hasn't swept under it in a while, and he flaps his hand around, reminding himself that it's dust and not very furry rats that his hand is brushing against. He finally feels the edge of the magazine and yanks it out, Darren staring accusingly up at him from the cover.
"Shut up," Chris tells him. "Or I'll put you back under there."
Brain tumor.
Chris feels weird about just leaving it out, like it's evidence of how he's a big pervy perv who jerks off thinking about his co-workers, and he shoves it into the bag he had tossed on the couch when he came in and stumbles back to bed.
-
Chris stops for gum on his way to the set. Gum and maybe the latest issue of O because the newstand cover is different from the subscriber copy, and Chris is judging himself a little bit for his desire to have both when he looks up and sees Darren, staring at him from the rack. Of course. Stupid Darren. Chris puts an issue of Cat Fancy over his stupid face, then feels guilty and takes it away, then grabs the first copy in the stack because he had bent the corner of the cover a little bit and it's the polite thing to do, right? Right.
-
Things are going well. They're going fine, they're totally normal, and Chris has been exceedingly cool and collected around Darren all day, except for when Darren follows him into his trailer to borrow some sunscreen and Chris absentmindedly tells him to grab it from his bag. He hears Darren chuckle and turns around to see Darren holding up the magazine.
"I just... shoved that in there," Chris says, hurrying over and yanking it out of Darren's hands, quickly stuffing it back inside his bag. "With the rest of my mail. The rest of my mail's in there too. In fact, here, let me get that sunscreen, don't want you to... hurt my mail."
"Sure thing," Darren says, patting Chris on the back as he walks over to the couch and flops down. Right in front of the coffee table. Which has the other copy of Out on it. "How many copies did you buy?" Darren laughs.
"None! I mean. Except for. That one. And the one here. But I didn't buy that one, I subscribe. And I got that one for... my mom," Chris says, wincing as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
"Your mom, huh?" Darren asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"She's a big fan," Chris says. "Here's your sunscreen." He pretty much just tosses it at Darren's head.
"Chris, are you sure everything's okay?" Darren asks, opening the cap and squirting some out into his palm. He stands up as he starts to rub it on the back of his neck, and seriously, his arms. Why does he have to have arms?
"You know what," Chris says, picking the sunscreen up off the table and shoving it into Darren's chest, not-so-subtly pushing him toward the door in the process. "Why don't you just keep that. I should really get a stronger SPF anyway. I've got a call to make, so if you don't mind," he says hurriedly.
"Sure thing," Darren says. He's giving Chris an odd look, but he doesn't push it and just turns to leave. "Thanks for the sunscreen," he calls over his shoulder as he heads down the steps.
"No problem!" Chris says cheerily, closing the door behind him and slumping against it. "Except for my ever-growing brain tumor," he grumbles to himself.
-
Chris manages to hide out from Darren for the rest of the day. The next day he kind of has to talk Darren because they're shooting a scene, but in an effort to keep himself from saying anything else hideously embarrassing, he mostly keeps to himself and tries to look immersed in his iPad, even though he's just refreshing his twitter feed over and over.
Chris succeeds in pulling off his Cone of Silence for three days before Darren traps him outside of catering and says, "So, hey, did I do something?"
"What? No, of-- of course not," Chris stutters out.
"Are you sure?" Darren asks, his voice soft and kind of nervous. "'Cause it kind of seems like you're avoiding me."
"I am not. I'm talking to you right now," Chris says.
"Because I hunted you down and cornered you," Darren points out.
"Semantics," Chris says. "Let's go, you know Cory always steals all the rolls."
-
"I hate my life," Chris sighs dramatically, collapsing on Lea's sofa and resting his head in her lap.
"It's not your fault, you know. They were very risqué pictures," Lea says, not bothering to look up from her phone.
"What?" Chris yelps. "No! That's not. Who told you?"
"No one had to tell me," Lea says, rolling her eyes. "I know these things."
"You're scary," Chris says, and he means it, a little bit. "Ugh, just leave me here to die."
"One could even call them raunchy," Lea says, tossing her phone down and petting at Chris's hair.
"Or one could shut up about them," Chris grumps.
"You know, I bet he doesn't get any flack for it," Lea says. "Guys take their clothes off and it's all kosher; I show some cleavage and all of a sudden I'm ruining America's youth."
"Total double standard," Chris agrees.
"He showed more skin that I did," Lea says. "That one picture was kind of slutty."
"Please shut up," Chris says. He'd try to sit up and leave, but Lea's still got her hand in his hair, and she can become a hair-puller at a moment's notice.
"It was like softcore gay porn," Lea says, finally taking her hand out of Chris's hair to grab for her iPad. "I was pretty into it, actually, I should look at that one again."
"You have fun with that," Chris says, darting up and heading for the door. "I'll just be in my trailer, not feeling better at all."
"'Kay!" Lea says distractedly. "Have fun!"
-
Chris tries over the next two days, he really does. He thinks he's doing a pretty good job of acting normal around Darren, but he is apparently mistaken because when he shows up at his trailer the next morning there's a 24 pack of Diet Coke sitting on the steps with a sparkly red bow on top and a post-it reading, "XOXO Darren! :) (please be my friend again)"
Chris wants to roll his eyes, but he can't help but grin, reaching for his phone and taking a picture, and sending it off to Lea with a very stern, "Do not forward." in the subject line.
Lea's reply comes a minute later as Chris is setting the case of Cokes on the counter in his trailer. "omg that's so precious!!!! what are you going to name your babies????"
"You're no help at all," Chris sends back. "I hate you."
"if you get a girl you should totally name it after me" is the only reply he gets.
-
"I am your friend," Chris says when he sees Darren later that day. He even walks right up to him and doesn't run away this time. He considers it progress.
"Prove it," Darren says.
"... How?" Chris asks, suspicious.
"Tell me why you've been acting so weird," Darren says. "Unless you've been, like, collecting my hair and selling it on the internet, I promise it's not as big a deal as you're thinking it is."
"That's a pretty good idea," Chris says, hoping Darren will take the subject change bait.
"If you try it, I want a cut of the profits," Darren says. "Now tell me what's up. Is this about the magazine?"
"What? No!" Chris says, his voice going so high-pitched he winces. "Why would you. That's so silly! Why are you so silly?" Oh god, he needs to shut up.
"I just don't want you to be offended or anything," Darren says softly, tugging on Chris's sleeve until he follows Darren into the shade of an equipment trailer, just far enough off the main path to be vaguely private. "Everyone thought it would be a good idea, and you know it's important to me for Blaine to be a positive thing for the gay community."
"What? No, why would I even-- oh, Darren, no," Chris says when he finally gets it. "No, no, I'm not upset about you doing the magazine, I promise."
"Then what is it?" Darren asks. "Seriously, I was making myself sick, anything you say now will be a relief. Unless it really is the hair thing."
"It's just-- it's not that you did the magazine, it's the way you--" Chris has to shut up, he has to shut up, this is not making anything better.
"I'm confused," Darren says.
"Me too," Chris says, his voice embarrassingly whiny. He might as well just go for it. Avoiding Darren is taking a lot of energy and it's making things awkward for everyone on set, and Chris should just man up and tell Darren that he had a momentary lapse in sanity but it's all over now. He can do this. He can be mature. He can tell Darren the truth. Minus the jerking off part, anyway. This doesn't have to be awkward.
"You are so hot," is what Chris actually says, much to his horror. "Oh god, no," he says, quickly, "no no no, I mean. It's just. That photoshoot. I was... not prepared for that, and I thought you looked hot, for, like, a second. I got a little freaked out about being a creeper, but I'm totally over it. So, so over it."
Darren starts to laugh, a little too loudly, and Chris doesn't know if he should be mortified or relieved. "Wait, are you serious?" Darren asks. "Like. That's what this is about? That's why you've been avoiding me?"
Chris goes stiff and crosses his arms over his chest when Darren pats his shoulder. While he's glad Darren isn't running away screaming, he still doesn't like to be laughed at. "Yes, so? You can't tell me that's not--"
"Chris," Darren says calmly, his eyes way too bright. "Chris, you're hot. I think you are attractive. Does that creep you out?"
"What?" Chris asks faintly. Maybe Darren actually punched him out and Chris is hallucinating, because there's no way he heard what he thought he just heard.
"Does it creep you out that I find you attractive?"
"You do not. Does it-- I can't be here right now," Chris says shortly, turning around and starting to walk away, but Darren grabs him by his hood and yanks him back.
"Hey, Chris, come on. Yes I do. There's nothing creepy about it. Just because you think someone's hot doesn't mean you have to act on it, right? And besides," Darren adds after a second, letting go of Chris's hoodie, "if anything, it's just going to make the on-screen chemistry better." He waggles his eyebrows for effect and Chris bursts out laughing.
"I hate you so much, oh my god."
"No you don't," Darren says with a grin. "You think I'm preeeeetty."
"I will stop talking to you again," Chris snaps. "Don't push me."
"Which one was your favorite?" Darren asks him, clearly trying not to laugh. "I can autograph it!"
"Yep, we're done," Chris says, turning on his heel and hurrying toward his trailer.
-
Chris manages - completely by accident, this time - not to see Darren again before he leaves for the night. When he gets back to set the next morning, there are two red bow-topped cases of Diet Coke sitting on his trailer steps. Chris rolls his eyes and walks over, reading the message on the post-it. "Glad we're friends again! XOXO Darren! :) (but seriously, was it the one with the shorts?)"
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: R
Pairing: Chris/Darren (kind of)
Word Count: 3,400+
Summary: Chris gets kind of stuck on the pictures of Darren half-dressed and wet and extremely, extremely attractive, oh god. Chris has seen Darren wet. Darren did not look like this when they were running to their cars in the rain two weeks ago. Wow.
Spoilers: Darren has an Out Magazine cover and photoshoot. There are spoilers in the text of his interview, but no actual show spoilers in the fic.
Author Notes: Look. This is so, so self-indulgent, and we know that. No regrets. Just fic. Title is from the song "You Might Think" by The Cars. Please don't link our fics to Glee actors!
Chris is pretty exhausted when he gets home. He's used to the 17 hour days at this point, but today had been full of choreography and emotional scenes and Chris is just drained. Which is why he thinks he's just having a really vivid hallucination when he checks his mailbox and sees Darren's face, looking stubbly and vaguely wet, staring up at him from the cover of Out.
Once Chris blinks a few times and realizes he's not imagining things, he just shrugs to himself. It seems weird that Darren hadn't mentioned anything, but Chris knows how it is. The Glee machine is kind of crazy and some days Chris can't remember what interview he gave to what magazine and what photoshoot was for what and-- he's putting way too much thought into this anyway.
Chris shakes his head and walks up to his apartment, tossing his mail on the coffee table as he heads for the fridge and stares into it stupidly for a few minutes. Sadly, food doesn't magically grow there, and Chris reaches for the peanut butter and jelly before realizing he has no bread. Dammit. There's a 24-hour pizza place that delivers that Chris has been trying to stop frequenting, as he had vowed that he would be more adult and actually go grocery shopping and cook for himself, but, well. That hasn't happened. He picks up his phone and hits number four on his speed dial. He's not proud.
The problem is, now that he's waiting 30 minutes or less, there's no reason not to look at Darren's article. Not that he was trying to put it off or anything. It's no big deal, at all. So he's just going to... do it. He's going to walk right over and open up that magazine and see exactly what Out has to say about "Glee's Darren Criss."
What they have to say turns out not to be very important, because Chris doesn't make it there. He gets kind of stuck on the pictures of Darren half-dressed and wet and extremely, extremely attractive, oh god. Chris has seen Darren wet. Darren did not look like this when they were running to their cars in the rain two weeks ago. Wow.
Chris feels suddenly guilty. He's not made of stone. Darren's attractive, but Chris tries to keep a pretty firm wall up in his mind between "co-worker" and "hot guy" in general, and he's only given in and climbed over that wall with his dick in his hand a few times. He doesn't like to think about it. So Chris tries to think of anything else. Like that time Darren had laughed so hard he'd accidentally spit coffee all over Luke after dance rehearsal. Or how Darren has horrible opinions about pizza toppings. Or that time he saw Darren and Dominic practicing armpit farts.
It doesn't help. He's still definitely half hard and staring at Darren's stupid, attractive face and his stupid, attractive muscles, and his stupid, attractive body hair, and, like, Chris doesn't even like hairy guys. He doesn't understand what's happening to him.
That pizza guy should really get here, already. Because if he doesn't, Chris is going to do something stupid. Like what he's doing right now, pushing his hand even further down his sweatpants and wrapping his fingers around his cock while looking at a picture of Darren, and wow, he has really got to stop this. Except it feels so good, and the Darren in his head looks even better, sprawled out on the floor with his shirt pulled up and his shorts sliding down, just letting Chris look at him, at the dip of Darren's stomach, the jut of his hipbones, and Chris is trying desperately to remind himself that it's been a while since he jerked off, and that's why he comes in about two minutes flat.
That's the only reason, he thinks desperately, panting for breath. And oh god, he's still holding the magazine. Chris throws it to the floor and then kicks it, like the fact that it's now under his bookcase is going to erase the fact that he just jerked off thinking about Darren. Chris is pretty sure the fact that his hand is still covered in come and down his pants is evidence enough. He sighs heavily and pulls his hand out, reaching for a tissue, and when the doorbell rings he jumps and lets out a yelp he's not entirely proud of before he remembers about the pizza.
-
The next day, Chris walks into dance rehearsal and sees Darren lying on the floor, flushed and breathing heavily with his shirt pulled up and his (red, of course they're fucking red) gym shorts sliding down, and Chris turns right back around and walks out of the door. Let Zach yell at him when he pretends he was even later than he was. Chris can take it. That's not scary at all compared to the things that are running through his head right now.
-
This is stupid, Chris thinks, as he ducks behind an equipment trailer for the third time that day to avoid having to talk to Darren. It's stupid. He's an adult, and Darren is an adult, and it was just a one-time lapse in judgment. Darren never has to know, because it's never going to happen again. Besides, it's not like these things don't happen. They still make fun of Heather sometimes for the sexy dream she had about Cory.
Oh, god. Chris has to make sure no one ever, ever finds out.
"Uh, Chris?" Darren asks from behind him, and shit, how did that happen?
"Yeah! Yep, hey, what's up?" Chris asks nervously, turning around and grinning way too widely at Darren.
"I just haven't seen you around today," Darren says. "You came in late and then ran out of rehearsal like you were on fire."
"Oh yeah, that!" Chris says, aware that his voice is getting even higher in pitch. "I had a... thing. A very important thing. Is what I had."
"You okay?" Darren asks, his eyebrows furrowing a little.
"Oh yeah, I'm totally fine!" Chris says, punching Darren in the shoulder and what the fuck, Chris has never, ever done that, to anyone, what is wrong with him?
"Okay?" Darren says, shooting him a hesitant smile. "You want to go grab some lunch with me?"
"Yeah! That sounds great," Chris says. "And hey, good job on that Out shoot!"
Chris almost punches himself in the face, what the fuck? What is wrong with him? Maybe he has a brain tumor that's blocking signals from the rational part of his brain. That could explain all of this.
"Hah, yeah," Darren says, ducking his head and scratching at his neck. "I got some interesting texts this morning."
"It happens," Chris says. "But really, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Especially not your body, just. If you were worried. About that."
Brain tumor. He definitely has a brain tumor.
"That's... good to know," Darren says, tilting his head at Chris. "Maybe we should just go get that lunch now."
"Oh yeah, that, I can't," Chris says quickly. "I forgot. I have a thing. Another thing. I'm full of things, that's me. I don't-- okay, I have to go," Chris says. Then he salutes Darren and turns on his heel, and he's halfway to his trailer before he realizes what he's done.
Chris has a brain tumor. There's no other explanation. Hopefully the sweet release of death will come quickly, and he won't ever have to talk to Darren again.
-
Chris can't sleep when he gets home, even though he's exhausted from filming and trying to avoid Darren all day. He wants to sleep, really he does, but he can feel that stupid magazine, under his bookcase, judging him.
"Brain tumor," Chris mumbles to himself as he throws the covers back and marches into the living room. He turns on his lamp and winces as he reaches under the bookcase. He hasn't swept under it in a while, and he flaps his hand around, reminding himself that it's dust and not very furry rats that his hand is brushing against. He finally feels the edge of the magazine and yanks it out, Darren staring accusingly up at him from the cover.
"Shut up," Chris tells him. "Or I'll put you back under there."
Brain tumor.
Chris feels weird about just leaving it out, like it's evidence of how he's a big pervy perv who jerks off thinking about his co-workers, and he shoves it into the bag he had tossed on the couch when he came in and stumbles back to bed.
-
Chris stops for gum on his way to the set. Gum and maybe the latest issue of O because the newstand cover is different from the subscriber copy, and Chris is judging himself a little bit for his desire to have both when he looks up and sees Darren, staring at him from the rack. Of course. Stupid Darren. Chris puts an issue of Cat Fancy over his stupid face, then feels guilty and takes it away, then grabs the first copy in the stack because he had bent the corner of the cover a little bit and it's the polite thing to do, right? Right.
-
Things are going well. They're going fine, they're totally normal, and Chris has been exceedingly cool and collected around Darren all day, except for when Darren follows him into his trailer to borrow some sunscreen and Chris absentmindedly tells him to grab it from his bag. He hears Darren chuckle and turns around to see Darren holding up the magazine.
"I just... shoved that in there," Chris says, hurrying over and yanking it out of Darren's hands, quickly stuffing it back inside his bag. "With the rest of my mail. The rest of my mail's in there too. In fact, here, let me get that sunscreen, don't want you to... hurt my mail."
"Sure thing," Darren says, patting Chris on the back as he walks over to the couch and flops down. Right in front of the coffee table. Which has the other copy of Out on it. "How many copies did you buy?" Darren laughs.
"None! I mean. Except for. That one. And the one here. But I didn't buy that one, I subscribe. And I got that one for... my mom," Chris says, wincing as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
"Your mom, huh?" Darren asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"She's a big fan," Chris says. "Here's your sunscreen." He pretty much just tosses it at Darren's head.
"Chris, are you sure everything's okay?" Darren asks, opening the cap and squirting some out into his palm. He stands up as he starts to rub it on the back of his neck, and seriously, his arms. Why does he have to have arms?
"You know what," Chris says, picking the sunscreen up off the table and shoving it into Darren's chest, not-so-subtly pushing him toward the door in the process. "Why don't you just keep that. I should really get a stronger SPF anyway. I've got a call to make, so if you don't mind," he says hurriedly.
"Sure thing," Darren says. He's giving Chris an odd look, but he doesn't push it and just turns to leave. "Thanks for the sunscreen," he calls over his shoulder as he heads down the steps.
"No problem!" Chris says cheerily, closing the door behind him and slumping against it. "Except for my ever-growing brain tumor," he grumbles to himself.
-
Chris manages to hide out from Darren for the rest of the day. The next day he kind of has to talk Darren because they're shooting a scene, but in an effort to keep himself from saying anything else hideously embarrassing, he mostly keeps to himself and tries to look immersed in his iPad, even though he's just refreshing his twitter feed over and over.
Chris succeeds in pulling off his Cone of Silence for three days before Darren traps him outside of catering and says, "So, hey, did I do something?"
"What? No, of-- of course not," Chris stutters out.
"Are you sure?" Darren asks, his voice soft and kind of nervous. "'Cause it kind of seems like you're avoiding me."
"I am not. I'm talking to you right now," Chris says.
"Because I hunted you down and cornered you," Darren points out.
"Semantics," Chris says. "Let's go, you know Cory always steals all the rolls."
-
"I hate my life," Chris sighs dramatically, collapsing on Lea's sofa and resting his head in her lap.
"It's not your fault, you know. They were very risqué pictures," Lea says, not bothering to look up from her phone.
"What?" Chris yelps. "No! That's not. Who told you?"
"No one had to tell me," Lea says, rolling her eyes. "I know these things."
"You're scary," Chris says, and he means it, a little bit. "Ugh, just leave me here to die."
"One could even call them raunchy," Lea says, tossing her phone down and petting at Chris's hair.
"Or one could shut up about them," Chris grumps.
"You know, I bet he doesn't get any flack for it," Lea says. "Guys take their clothes off and it's all kosher; I show some cleavage and all of a sudden I'm ruining America's youth."
"Total double standard," Chris agrees.
"He showed more skin that I did," Lea says. "That one picture was kind of slutty."
"Please shut up," Chris says. He'd try to sit up and leave, but Lea's still got her hand in his hair, and she can become a hair-puller at a moment's notice.
"It was like softcore gay porn," Lea says, finally taking her hand out of Chris's hair to grab for her iPad. "I was pretty into it, actually, I should look at that one again."
"You have fun with that," Chris says, darting up and heading for the door. "I'll just be in my trailer, not feeling better at all."
"'Kay!" Lea says distractedly. "Have fun!"
-
Chris tries over the next two days, he really does. He thinks he's doing a pretty good job of acting normal around Darren, but he is apparently mistaken because when he shows up at his trailer the next morning there's a 24 pack of Diet Coke sitting on the steps with a sparkly red bow on top and a post-it reading, "XOXO Darren! :) (please be my friend again)"
Chris wants to roll his eyes, but he can't help but grin, reaching for his phone and taking a picture, and sending it off to Lea with a very stern, "Do not forward." in the subject line.
Lea's reply comes a minute later as Chris is setting the case of Cokes on the counter in his trailer. "omg that's so precious!!!! what are you going to name your babies????"
"You're no help at all," Chris sends back. "I hate you."
"if you get a girl you should totally name it after me" is the only reply he gets.
-
"I am your friend," Chris says when he sees Darren later that day. He even walks right up to him and doesn't run away this time. He considers it progress.
"Prove it," Darren says.
"... How?" Chris asks, suspicious.
"Tell me why you've been acting so weird," Darren says. "Unless you've been, like, collecting my hair and selling it on the internet, I promise it's not as big a deal as you're thinking it is."
"That's a pretty good idea," Chris says, hoping Darren will take the subject change bait.
"If you try it, I want a cut of the profits," Darren says. "Now tell me what's up. Is this about the magazine?"
"What? No!" Chris says, his voice going so high-pitched he winces. "Why would you. That's so silly! Why are you so silly?" Oh god, he needs to shut up.
"I just don't want you to be offended or anything," Darren says softly, tugging on Chris's sleeve until he follows Darren into the shade of an equipment trailer, just far enough off the main path to be vaguely private. "Everyone thought it would be a good idea, and you know it's important to me for Blaine to be a positive thing for the gay community."
"What? No, why would I even-- oh, Darren, no," Chris says when he finally gets it. "No, no, I'm not upset about you doing the magazine, I promise."
"Then what is it?" Darren asks. "Seriously, I was making myself sick, anything you say now will be a relief. Unless it really is the hair thing."
"It's just-- it's not that you did the magazine, it's the way you--" Chris has to shut up, he has to shut up, this is not making anything better.
"I'm confused," Darren says.
"Me too," Chris says, his voice embarrassingly whiny. He might as well just go for it. Avoiding Darren is taking a lot of energy and it's making things awkward for everyone on set, and Chris should just man up and tell Darren that he had a momentary lapse in sanity but it's all over now. He can do this. He can be mature. He can tell Darren the truth. Minus the jerking off part, anyway. This doesn't have to be awkward.
"You are so hot," is what Chris actually says, much to his horror. "Oh god, no," he says, quickly, "no no no, I mean. It's just. That photoshoot. I was... not prepared for that, and I thought you looked hot, for, like, a second. I got a little freaked out about being a creeper, but I'm totally over it. So, so over it."
Darren starts to laugh, a little too loudly, and Chris doesn't know if he should be mortified or relieved. "Wait, are you serious?" Darren asks. "Like. That's what this is about? That's why you've been avoiding me?"
Chris goes stiff and crosses his arms over his chest when Darren pats his shoulder. While he's glad Darren isn't running away screaming, he still doesn't like to be laughed at. "Yes, so? You can't tell me that's not--"
"Chris," Darren says calmly, his eyes way too bright. "Chris, you're hot. I think you are attractive. Does that creep you out?"
"What?" Chris asks faintly. Maybe Darren actually punched him out and Chris is hallucinating, because there's no way he heard what he thought he just heard.
"Does it creep you out that I find you attractive?"
"You do not. Does it-- I can't be here right now," Chris says shortly, turning around and starting to walk away, but Darren grabs him by his hood and yanks him back.
"Hey, Chris, come on. Yes I do. There's nothing creepy about it. Just because you think someone's hot doesn't mean you have to act on it, right? And besides," Darren adds after a second, letting go of Chris's hoodie, "if anything, it's just going to make the on-screen chemistry better." He waggles his eyebrows for effect and Chris bursts out laughing.
"I hate you so much, oh my god."
"No you don't," Darren says with a grin. "You think I'm preeeeetty."
"I will stop talking to you again," Chris snaps. "Don't push me."
"Which one was your favorite?" Darren asks him, clearly trying not to laugh. "I can autograph it!"
"Yep, we're done," Chris says, turning on his heel and hurrying toward his trailer.
-
Chris manages - completely by accident, this time - not to see Darren again before he leaves for the night. When he gets back to set the next morning, there are two red bow-topped cases of Diet Coke sitting on his trailer steps. Chris rolls his eyes and walks over, reading the message on the post-it. "Glad we're friends again! XOXO Darren! :) (but seriously, was it the one with the shorts?)"