fic: "Yours For The Taking" (Chris/Steve - PG13)
Title: Yours For The Taking
Authors: cammissbloom & woodsbaile_02
Characters/Pairings: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson
Word Count: 4,882
Disclaimers: We don't own these people, they own themselves. None of this ever happened and, alas, the couple is not real. None of this was meant as an offence to anyone. We're just pretending, folks.
Notes: Thanks dea_liberty for the beta! You did an amazing - and dare I say exausting? - job *hugs*
Summary: This is what happens when Chris is confronted with the truth: if he doesn't fight for Steve, someone else will.
Yours For The Taking
Chris/Steve
PG13
Everyone knows Chris loves being onstage with Steve.
He loves how their chemistry just flows naturally when they are playing together, Steve’s chords guiding Chris’ voice for minutes, the only thing on Chris’ mind being the lyrics and the sound of Steve’s guitar. He really thinks there’s no better place to be than there, next to his best friend, doing their thing.
At least those were his thoughts months ago.
Now he thinks there must be a better place to be. Try as he might, something inside him makes him sure that being on stage with that man is simply not the best place in the world. Because now, every time he closes his eyes, what he first sees is not the lyrics, it’s Steve’s smiling face. The one thing he hears is not the chords, but Steve’s soft voice humming along with his own. And damn if their voices don’t sound great together.
And damn if he isn’t starting to get mushy. Damn it.
He misses the timing in the song they’re singing - One More Shot - and Steve eyes him warily, trying to see if everything’s okay. He just gives the man the most honest smile he can - which, right now, is not that honest - and keeps on singing, grinning apologetically at the crowd.
Of course, when they’re done, the crowd gets even more excited, maybe because he messed up the lyrics, and Steve - of course - has that look in his eyes that says he’s about to make fun of him. ’Really great.’
But Steve doesn't. Chris could see that he was about to, but as soon as they're off the stage, he's whisked away by this dude who has been hanging around for a few days now; this friend of Jensen's that Jensen had the not-so-great idea of introducing them to. Chris could see the interest sparking up in Michael's eyes as soon as Steve had joined them at their table two nights ago and held out his hand to introduce himself. Damn him.
Now they're talking and laughing, Steve sipping from a beer that Michael just passed him.
Jensen walks up to Chris and clasps his shoulder. "Great show, man."
“Yeah, yeah,” is all Chris says. When he sees Jensen watching him dubiously, he manages to give him a small smile. “I mean, I’m glad you liked it, man”
"Sure I did... You okay?"
’No.’
“Yeah, I’m peachy,” Chris says, his eyes leaving Jensen’s face to look behind the other man, where Steve’s laughing even more with Michael, getting closer to the man to whisper something to him. “I’m awesome” he adds, voice so restrained and barely there he almost misses it himself.
Jensen grins as he follows his gaze. "They hit it off, uh? Maybe we can finally find a boyfriend for Steve."
"Uh huh," Chris says automatically, his brain only following what Jensen’d just said moments after. "Wait, what?" He almost shouts before trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, you think the guy is good enough for him?"
'No way in hell is he good enough for Steve!
Jensen blinks. "Uh... Yeah. Michael's pretty cool. What's wrong with you?"
“You sure? Because he doesn’t seem nearly good enough from where I’m standing,” Chris almost growls, not managing to calm down as he sees Michael slowly getting even closer - ’Son of a bitch’ - to Steve, his hand now firmly on Steve’s back.
Jensen frowns. "Dude. I get that you're overprotective, but he's been on his own forever now..."
“Yeah well, he could stay single for longer,” Chris murmurs, because really, that’s so not what’s at stake here. He had this infatuation for so many months, he can’t even remember what it was like before, and the only fucked up thing about it is that he was not brave enough to stand up in front of Steve and just say it. Damn it, he’d tried, but then he‘d thought of their friendship, and their band, and their chemistry together, and what if all of that gets fucked up once he spills the words? But what if it is not fucked up, and if things actually get better?
And what happens if Steve finds someone - which seemed pretty likely now - and Chris just stood there, having to watch Steve’s happiness, and in his own stupid misery? Holy fuck, why couldn’t this be easier? He’s a simple guy. He loves simple things.
"Chris, seriously…“Jensen trails off and then grins like a loon as he watches Michael hook one arm around Steve's waist and the two of them disappear out of the bar. “Well, I'll be damned..."
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” Chris spits the words as if they are some sort of curse, and he doesn’t even see he’s stumbling into the people that are between him, Steve and Michael-who’s-about-to-lose-his-balls, and he doesn’t even hear people cursing him or see the people looking at him strangely - Jensen included. He all but runs out of the bar, his eyes almost instantly finding Steve in the poorly lit street.
He doesn’t expect what happens next though.
Michael leans closer and slowly brushes his lips against Steve’s.
And Chris feels so lost, so empty, so shattered, so alone that he stays still as a rock. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t even breathe, because their lips are parting, and Steve’s smiling up at Michael. He’s smiling.
’Welcome to suffering, Kane.’
"Chris, what the hell...?" Jensen stands stock still right next to him then, because Steve grabs Michael's nape and bringing him down for a longer, deeper, hungrier kiss.
“He’s gone,” Chris barely whispers, voice cracking with just those two words. “He’s just…” He trails off, not sure if he has enough energy to continue talking. He just stays there, eyes glued to their lips as they keep kissing each other.
’As Steve keeps on kissing someone else’.
~*~*~
“Nights suck,” Chris says to himself as he stays glued to his sofa. In the exact same spot and in the exact same position he’d been in all night long. With not a bottle, but two bottles of JD next to him on the couch. “What if one’s finished and I need more?” He’d thought hours earlier, as he’d got home from “the fucking night where I lost my fucking heart” as he now took to calling it in his head.
His body hurt like a bitch, but it’s good because it takes away the pain emanating from his heart.
’No, it doesn’t,’ he thinks bitterly. ’I can still feel it hurting.’ Good thing he stopped listening to his brain as soon as the first shot of JD passed through his throat.
If he’s honest with himself, he knows everything that’s happened is his own fault. He didn’t try. But as the night went on, that thought started to slip from his mind, and then the only one he was blaming was Steve.
’Fucking bastard for leaving me like this.’
And now that it’s morning, if his eyes are really seeing light from the window, he doesn’t blame anyone. Well, he does. He blames fate. ’Fuck her for being fucking mean’.
“Why do I need Steve, anyway?” He says out loud.
’Because he’s the other part of you’, his mind adds.
He promptly chooses to ignore it.
~*~*~
It’s mid afternoon when Chris resembles a human being again. He didn’t shower, he didn’t cry, he didn’t yell. He just sobered up. His heart hurt the same, the images were still playing in his head, but he thought that he’d have enough time without seeing Steve again to fucking forget him.
’Aha! Go ahead and try,’ he thinks. He fucking hates his sober mind.
He’s in the kitchen, trying to decide if he should eat something or if feeding himself is overrated, when he hears a knock on the door. He goes stock still at the same moment.
There’s only one person who knocks at his door and doesn’t ring the freaking bell.
’Fuck.’
Sure enough, when he finally convinces his limbs to just move , and goes to open the door, Steve is standing there, a bright smile on his face. "Hey man."
And just like that, Chris, who’s not usually an emotional guy, feels the urgent - and stupid, he might add - urge to cry. He stays strong though, blinking to try to get rid of the tears, and doesn’t say anything as he moves away from the door. He leaves it open for Steve to come in. He knows there’s no other choice but to let him come in. He’s hopeless like that.
Steve frowns as he walks through and closes the door. "You okay?"
"Peachy," he just says, not daring to look at Steve's eyes. Or mouth. Or face in general. It'll only remind him of that kiss. That was not meant for him.
"Right... 'Peachy' is the word you use when you feel like crap."
"Don't," Chris says then. "Don't try to poke and prod me into talking about if I'm alright or not, okay?" he says, really trying to sound harsh, but the words come out way too soft, way too quiet, for it to have that effect.
Steve frowns. "Has something happened?"
Chris’ smile is bitter. "You tell me. Something happened last night that I'm not aware of?" He asks, and this time, the harshness is definitely there.
Steve blinks at him, clearly at a loss. "Did we have a fight that I am not aware of?"
’No, we didn’t. We just broke up without even having anything.’
“Can you just go?” Chris asks weakly, still not meeting Steve’s eyes.
"Uh..." Steve is clearly - and understandably - confused. "Are you... Why are you mad at me?"
"Steve, please, just fucking go already!" Chris says a little louder, not screaming, but he's losing his temper. "Okay? Go get all fucking cuddly and kissy-like with that Michael bastard and leave me the fuck alone!" He shouts then, and once again, his brain only catches up with his mouth when it’s already too late. 'Fuck'.
Steve stares at him as if he has just been slapped, and then his eyes cloud with anger. "Okay," he says quietly, turning to walk away.
“Okay?” Chris repeats, his voice growing quiet once again. “That’s all you have to say? Okay?” And really, he knows he’s being somewhat of a bastard, but he’s entitled to. He has a broken heart. Or better, he maybe has no heart at all by now, since he offered it on a silver platter to Steve. Subconsciously and quietly, but he did anyway. And it was crushed too. And that part of it was far from quiet.
"What the fuck do you want me to say?" Steve snaps back. "You attack me out of the blue and won't even tell me why... What do you want me to do? You want me to leave, fine, I'll leave."
"Don't leave," Chris says so quietly and so brokenly he's not sure Steve heard that. He's not even sure he said that.
But he apparently did because Steve turns to face him, frowning deeper than before. "Chris," he sighs. "What the hell's going on?"
“What does he have?” ’That I don’t,’ his mind adds. “Is he nice? Is he making you happy?” Chris asks, even though he’s not the masochistic type, and even though it’s been less than twenty-four hours since everything happened, so he’s sure as hell Steve’s still not too close to Michael. Or maybe he is? ’Oh my God, he can’t be.’
"What's wrong with him? Why do you hate him this much? You barely know him."
’Because he got the one thing I’ve always wanted, damn it! Why can’t you just fucking see it?!’ Chris thinks, but doesn’t voice it.
Or so he thinks.
But when he sees Steve’s face, he starts to doubt his stupid mouth. ’Fuck, did I say that out loud?!’ He freaks out - quietly this time - eyes going wide.
Steve looks at him as if he's just been struck with lightning. "You... uh... WHAT?"
“You heard me,” Chris says in a defeated tone, finally looking up at Steve. He regrets that the minute he looks into those eyes. He used to get lost in them and not mind one bit. Now he minds. Because he can’t. It’s not his right. ’It was never your right,’ he thinks sadly, but sometimes he used to like to pretend otherwise. To think that some glances, some smiles, were for him only. Doesn’t seem that way now.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Now please, please, just fucking go, okay?” He says, too damn tired to try to argue. “Pretend this never happened, that you were never here, whatever strikes your fancy, but just fucking go.” How’s he supposed to try to forget the man - although he’s sure he can’t - if Steve just stands there, right in front of him? ’Fuck, I need to get drunk again.’.
But Steve doesn't go anywhere. The next thing Chris knows, Steve's fingers are cupping the back of his neck, a soft, caring touch, and he's being tugged forward for a tentative kiss.
The kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and just from that brush of lips, Chris feels like he’s found Heaven on earth. And then reality comes crushing down, and he takes a few steps backward, almost stumbling as his leg catches the side of the coffee table. “What was that all about?” He asks, eyes still wide.
Steve stares deep into his eyes, a serious expression on his face. "I've always wanted you. Why do you think I haven't had a boyfriend in ages, you idiot?"
Chris frowns, trying to process what he just heard. “But… but what about Michael, the asshole?” Yeah, Michael had a lot of nicknames in Chris’ head.
"I never thought you wanted me too. And I was... I just thought maybe this time, I could try to let you go," Steve admits quietly. "But he's got nothing on you. I told him last night didn't mean anything."
“You… you guys are over?” Chris asks stupidly, as if his mind couldn’t quite process what was going on. Or as if he was too scared to think he heard something that Steve hadn’t said.
Steve snorts. "We never even began. It was just a kiss, for God's sake."
“You see those two bottles of JD?” Chris says then, nodding his head towards the couch he’d stayed on all night. “That’s what ‘just a kiss’ did to me,” he adds. He’s not sure why he felt the need to say that. Maybe because for him it wasn’t just a kiss. It felts like the beginning of Hell.
Steve doesn't say anything at first. He just envelopes Chris in his arms and holds him as tight as he can. "They were just kisses for me," he murmurs. "He's not you so he's not good enough. No one is."
“No one is,” Chris repeats quietly, his arms hanging loosely next to his body, still in shock, relief and happiness washing over him so quickly he doesn’t even know what to do with them. So he does what he’s been dreaming of doing from months on end: he detangles himself from Steve’s embrace, only to finally - finally - let himself drown in Steve’s eyes again. He feels himself smile for the first time since the end of their gig last night as both his hands cradle Steve’s face softly and he leans in closer to kiss him.
Steve sighs into his mouth, pressing him closer, fingertips digging into the small of Chris' back as his teeth drag over Chris' bottom lips, tongues entwining.
Chris just lets himself feel the kiss. He initiated it but he wants Steve to take the lead. For the other man to show him just how much he wants him. He was feeling so lost only minutes ago, he needs that kind of reassurance, needs the physical reassurance of this kiss. One of his hands travels over Steve’s face, then goes to the back of his neck and keeps on traveling down. It finally stops on the small of Steve’s back, gripping his t-shirt hard, as if to make sure Steve’s really there. His other hand stays on Steve’s face, his thumb caressing Steve’s cheek oh-so gently, almost like a caress from a breeze.
"I'm right here," Steve mumbles against his lips, not stopping, raining more kisses onto Chris' mouth. "Right here."
“Yeah, you are,” Chris says, finally breaking their kiss to look at Steve’s eyes once again. “Yeah, you are,” he repeats, and he’s positive he has a stupid little grin on his face, but he doesn’t care.
"No one's ever held a candle to you," Steve murmurs, resting his forehead against Chris'. "I've wanted you... for so long..."
Chris doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. “You wanted this…” He whispers, closing his eyes, thinking about all he’s been through, all they could have been if he was just quicker, if only he had the balls before. “I thought you didn’t. I thought I was the only one…” He trails off, the hand on Steve’s t-shirt gripping it even harder than before, his voice showing just how sorry he was that he made both of them go through all that drama.
Steve envelopes him in his arms again, holding him as tight as humanly possible. "I've been in love with you... for years... but... I never had the guts..."
“Stupidass…” Chris says without heat, not knowing if he’s cursing Steve or himself. ‘Probably the latter’, he thinks and he wraps his arms around Steve’s torso. “Damn you for making me all clingy like this,” he adds with a lighter tone even though he doesn’t let go of Steve.
Steve chuckles and kisses his temple softly. "I'm just irresistible."
"And humble," Chris adds with a smile, rolling his eyes.
"Christian Kane is trying to teach someone about humbleness?" Steve grins. "Spare me."
"Jackass," Chris says, pinching Steve's sides. "You're staying, right?" He adds so out of the blue he surprises himself when he hears his own question. In a desperate tone. He figures it's okay to let it show, though. This is Steve. This is them.
"If you want me to."
"I want you to."
Steve smiles, his thumb stroking Chris' bottom lip reverently. "Then I'm not going anywhere."
Chris grins, closing the gap between their mouths to kiss Steve once more. His lips work frantically, his tongue wanting to taste and feel each and every part of Steve’s mouth. When Steve pulls back, pupils blown wide, the green in his eyes almost imperceptible, Chris almost looses it. When Steve tries to start kissing him again though, Chris pulls back, smirking at Steve. The younger man practically growls, leaning in to try to catch Chris’ mouth once again, only to find Chris teasing him all over again.
“Chris…” Steve murmurs, his hand gripping Chris’ waist tightly.
“Wha’? I’m doing nothing…” Chris murmurs back, making his way to Steve’s mouth really slowly. Before their lips meet though, Chris sticks out his tongue, licking Steve’s lips softly, the touch almost not there.
Steve groans. "I hate you... don't... don't tease..."
“Not teasing,” Chris whispers, licking Steve’s upper lip right before biting it softly. “I’m only getting started.”
Steve sighs longingly. He manages to just slip his hand under Chris' shirt when the doorbell rings. He groans loudly. "Fuck it."
"Shit," Chris curses, resting his forehead on Steve's shoulders as he takes one deep breath to try to cool down a bit. He pulls back, giving Steve one apologetic smile before walking to the door to see who the person that is about to get punched for interrupting them is. But as soon as he opens the door, he finds himself too speechless and too surprised to say or do much. "Michael?"
The man smiles politely at him. "Uh... sorry for bothering you... I was wondering if maybe Steve's around?"
"Uh..." Chris says stupidly, all his fears resurfacing. ’Get a grip, Kane. Steve just showed you he wants this,’ he thinks, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. He's here," he says then, although he doesn't open the door for Michael to come inside. He doesn't even realize he's doing that until Michael sizes him up, with a clear look that says, 'so... will you let me come in or what?' Only then does Chris give the guy enough space to get inside.
"Thanks," Michael offers, before walking quickly into the living room. Steve gapes at him. "What are you doing here?"
"I went to your place, knocked on your door ‘til my knuckles started to hurt, and you didn't answer," Michael says, smiling as he gets closer to Steve. "Thought you might be here since you and Chris are practically glued at the hip or something," he adds, his hand going to Steve's waist.
Chris fumes just seeing that, but he keeps still, trying to remember what just happened and waiting - hoping - that Steve will push the guy away soon. Because he sure as hell will deal with it if it takes too long.
Steve takes a step back. "I told you, Michael... They were just kisses. They didn't mean a thing."
“I know you don’t mean that,” Michael says, clearly not understanding Steve’s step back as a way to keep distance between them, or just not caring; he steps closer to Steve again. “Not with the way you reacted to those kisses.”
Steve's jaw clenches. "I told you it didn't mean any thing. It was nothing, Michael. It was a mistake."
Michael’s brow furrows, his loving look changing into a confused one. “You care to explain to me why you now think it was a mistake?” He asks.
Near the door, Chris is just one moment away from jumping at the guy. And not in the good way.
"I told you this morning. I just went with the spur of the moment and I shouldn’t have done that. I told you last night too."
“So this was just a spur of the moment thing to you?” Michael asks, but before Steve can answer, Michael closes the distance between them and kisses him hard on the lips. He doesn’t have the time to lengthen the kiss much though, because a second later Chris is behind him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Steve.
“Get off me, man!” Michael says, looking back at Chris angrily. “What the fuck?” He asks as he from Chris to Steve, having no idea what the hell just happened.
Steve's chest is heaving as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and glares at Michael. "What part of 'no' don't you fuckin' get?!" He snarls. He walks up to the both of them and puts a hand to Chris' shoulder. "Let him go."
Chris glares back at Michael for a second before pushing him away gracelessly. "You heard Steve. He said no," Chris says, and he's impressed he manages to say that with a steady voice. "And if you insist on not hearing him, hear me then: get out of my house."
Michael glares at them both. "I should have known," he spits at Steve. "You're just a whore."
Chris doesn’t even see himself punching Michael, he just feels the other guy’s jaw connecting with his fist, and the next thing he knows, Michael is jumping on him. Before the guy can do much more than try to punch him back, he hits him again, this time on the guy’s cheek.
“I said get out of my house,“ Chris spits, wanting to grab his hand and grunt in pain because fuck it hurts, but the hell if he’ll show Michael he’s in any pain. Especially because, if it’s hurting him, he can only imagine how Michael must be feeling. ‘Take that, assfuck’.
Michael lunges at him again, his fist connecting with Steve's cheekbone when Steve steps in to try to stop the madness. Steve's head turns sharply at the impact, but then he just glares. "ENOUGH!" He roars. "Get out!"
"You hurt Steve once more and I'll fucking kick your ass to the ground, you motherfucker," Chris spits, pushing Michael away from them both, and in the direction of the door. "You know the way out."
Michael shoots a nasty look at them before finally relenting, walking out of the living room and of the house.
"Fucking bastard," Chris says through his teeth, so angry he can barely feel the pain in his hand. He looks at Steve and sees the other man's cheek turning a not-so-pleasant shade of purple right where Michael punched him. "Oh fuck," he says, turning back to Steve, his injured hand going to Steve's cheek softly, so as not to hurt the man. It’s only then that he has the time to look at his hand and he realizes that his knuckles are also starting to turn an unpleasant shade of red. "Fuck," he says again, although he quickly forgets about it as he turns his attention back to Steve's face. "Does it hurts as bad as it looks?" He asks quietly, looking into Steve's eyes.
"Funny," Steve says with a weak smile, cradling Chris' hand gently in his. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."
"It's nothing" Chris says, even though he winces when Steve touches his hand a little harder. His other hand goes to Steve's mouth, his thumb caressing his lips - or maybe he’s trying to get rid of every hint of Michael still on Steve's lips, Chris is not sure.
"C'mon," Steve says quietly after a moment, looking away and averting his gaze. "You need some ice."
"I don't need ice," Chris says, pulling at Steve's hand to make the man look at him again. "I only need you," he adds, giving Steve a small kiss. "Please."
Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pulls back. "I'd better go."
"Wait, what?" Chris says, eyes going wide. "Why?"
Steve sighs. "I just... gotta go."
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chris says, his heart starting to hurt more then his hand. “After what just happened, after that fucking bastard kissed you inside my god damn house, you’re going to leave?” He asks, because really, this makes no sense at all. ‘I need you here,’ he wants to say but right now, he’s not sure he wants to show that desperation. He’s not sure of anything.
"I'm sorry he hurt you," Steve says quietly, head bowed. "I'm sorry he came here. I'm sorry he thought... 'm just sorry."
“Hey,” Chris says quietly, getting closer to Steve again, cupping his face softly. “You don’t need to apologize for him.” His tone is matter of fact. “It’s not your fault he came here. From what I understood, you two had already talked about you not wanting anything with him, right?” Chris asks, receiving a nod as an answer. “See? Not your fault.” He kisses Steve’s bruised cheek very softly. “Just proof that you really are irresistible.”
"Or that I'm really a slut," Steve spits in self-contempt, still refusing to meet Chris' eyes.
“Oh, don’t you dare believe him,” Chris says in a serious tone, grabbing Steve’s chin gently and making the man look at him. “You’re not… that.“ Chris refuses to say that word in reference to Steve. “You just made a mistake by thinking that the guy was even a bit nice,” he adds in a softer tone. “Don’t let him get to you like that, okay?”
Steve exhales slowly. "I just... I wish I never touched him."
“Yeah, me too,” Chris says sincerely. “But he’s not the one who’ll touch you anymore.” Chris smiles, cupping Steve’s face and giving him a soft kiss. “And you’ll definitely never touch anyone else but me, you hear that?” He adds, pushing Steve’s shoulder. “I’m yours for the taking” he finishes quietly, grabbing one of Steve’s hands and putting it on the left side of his chest, right on top of his heart.
Steve smiles weakly back at him. "Are you sure you want me?"
Chris makes a sound close to a growl before crushing their mouths together in a hurried kiss. He tries to put everything to it - the love, the need, the longing - to try to make Steve realize just how sure he is. The kiss goes on for what could be minutes or hours, he’s not sure, but when they part, they’re both gasping for air. Steve doesn’t even give them time to breathe properly; he chases Chris’ mouth again, biting his bottom lip. Chris smirks, pulling back slowly. “You sure I still need to answer your stupid questions?”
Steve smiles. "Well then," he says, taking Chris' uninjured hand and guiding it over his own heart. "I'm yours for the taking, too."
Chris smiles, closing the distance between them, peppering small kisses all over Steve's chin and under his ear. "Hell yeah, you are," he says. "All fucking mine."
Steve laughs and pulls him close. "All fucking yours."
FIN.
PS: Just one little thing I'm (cammissbloom) deciding to put here. The whole idea of this fic was to write something where Chris is not the bad guy. Because even though making him the bad guy once or twice may be fun, reading him being the one who hurts everyone, every time, gets exhausting. At least for me.
Authors: cammissbloom & woodsbaile_02
Characters/Pairings: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson
Word Count: 4,882
Disclaimers: We don't own these people, they own themselves. None of this ever happened and, alas, the couple is not real. None of this was meant as an offence to anyone. We're just pretending, folks.
Notes: Thanks dea_liberty for the beta! You did an amazing - and dare I say exausting? - job *hugs*
Summary: This is what happens when Chris is confronted with the truth: if he doesn't fight for Steve, someone else will.
Yours For The Taking
Chris/Steve
PG13
Everyone knows Chris loves being onstage with Steve.
He loves how their chemistry just flows naturally when they are playing together, Steve’s chords guiding Chris’ voice for minutes, the only thing on Chris’ mind being the lyrics and the sound of Steve’s guitar. He really thinks there’s no better place to be than there, next to his best friend, doing their thing.
At least those were his thoughts months ago.
Now he thinks there must be a better place to be. Try as he might, something inside him makes him sure that being on stage with that man is simply not the best place in the world. Because now, every time he closes his eyes, what he first sees is not the lyrics, it’s Steve’s smiling face. The one thing he hears is not the chords, but Steve’s soft voice humming along with his own. And damn if their voices don’t sound great together.
And damn if he isn’t starting to get mushy. Damn it.
He misses the timing in the song they’re singing - One More Shot - and Steve eyes him warily, trying to see if everything’s okay. He just gives the man the most honest smile he can - which, right now, is not that honest - and keeps on singing, grinning apologetically at the crowd.
Of course, when they’re done, the crowd gets even more excited, maybe because he messed up the lyrics, and Steve - of course - has that look in his eyes that says he’s about to make fun of him. ’Really great.’
But Steve doesn't. Chris could see that he was about to, but as soon as they're off the stage, he's whisked away by this dude who has been hanging around for a few days now; this friend of Jensen's that Jensen had the not-so-great idea of introducing them to. Chris could see the interest sparking up in Michael's eyes as soon as Steve had joined them at their table two nights ago and held out his hand to introduce himself. Damn him.
Now they're talking and laughing, Steve sipping from a beer that Michael just passed him.
Jensen walks up to Chris and clasps his shoulder. "Great show, man."
“Yeah, yeah,” is all Chris says. When he sees Jensen watching him dubiously, he manages to give him a small smile. “I mean, I’m glad you liked it, man”
"Sure I did... You okay?"
’No.’
“Yeah, I’m peachy,” Chris says, his eyes leaving Jensen’s face to look behind the other man, where Steve’s laughing even more with Michael, getting closer to the man to whisper something to him. “I’m awesome” he adds, voice so restrained and barely there he almost misses it himself.
Jensen grins as he follows his gaze. "They hit it off, uh? Maybe we can finally find a boyfriend for Steve."
"Uh huh," Chris says automatically, his brain only following what Jensen’d just said moments after. "Wait, what?" He almost shouts before trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, you think the guy is good enough for him?"
'No way in hell is he good enough for Steve!
Jensen blinks. "Uh... Yeah. Michael's pretty cool. What's wrong with you?"
“You sure? Because he doesn’t seem nearly good enough from where I’m standing,” Chris almost growls, not managing to calm down as he sees Michael slowly getting even closer - ’Son of a bitch’ - to Steve, his hand now firmly on Steve’s back.
Jensen frowns. "Dude. I get that you're overprotective, but he's been on his own forever now..."
“Yeah well, he could stay single for longer,” Chris murmurs, because really, that’s so not what’s at stake here. He had this infatuation for so many months, he can’t even remember what it was like before, and the only fucked up thing about it is that he was not brave enough to stand up in front of Steve and just say it. Damn it, he’d tried, but then he‘d thought of their friendship, and their band, and their chemistry together, and what if all of that gets fucked up once he spills the words? But what if it is not fucked up, and if things actually get better?
And what happens if Steve finds someone - which seemed pretty likely now - and Chris just stood there, having to watch Steve’s happiness, and in his own stupid misery? Holy fuck, why couldn’t this be easier? He’s a simple guy. He loves simple things.
"Chris, seriously…“Jensen trails off and then grins like a loon as he watches Michael hook one arm around Steve's waist and the two of them disappear out of the bar. “Well, I'll be damned..."
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” Chris spits the words as if they are some sort of curse, and he doesn’t even see he’s stumbling into the people that are between him, Steve and Michael-who’s-about-to-lose-his-balls, and he doesn’t even hear people cursing him or see the people looking at him strangely - Jensen included. He all but runs out of the bar, his eyes almost instantly finding Steve in the poorly lit street.
He doesn’t expect what happens next though.
Michael leans closer and slowly brushes his lips against Steve’s.
And Chris feels so lost, so empty, so shattered, so alone that he stays still as a rock. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t even breathe, because their lips are parting, and Steve’s smiling up at Michael. He’s smiling.
’Welcome to suffering, Kane.’
"Chris, what the hell...?" Jensen stands stock still right next to him then, because Steve grabs Michael's nape and bringing him down for a longer, deeper, hungrier kiss.
“He’s gone,” Chris barely whispers, voice cracking with just those two words. “He’s just…” He trails off, not sure if he has enough energy to continue talking. He just stays there, eyes glued to their lips as they keep kissing each other.
’As Steve keeps on kissing someone else’.
~*~*~
“Nights suck,” Chris says to himself as he stays glued to his sofa. In the exact same spot and in the exact same position he’d been in all night long. With not a bottle, but two bottles of JD next to him on the couch. “What if one’s finished and I need more?” He’d thought hours earlier, as he’d got home from “the fucking night where I lost my fucking heart” as he now took to calling it in his head.
His body hurt like a bitch, but it’s good because it takes away the pain emanating from his heart.
’No, it doesn’t,’ he thinks bitterly. ’I can still feel it hurting.’ Good thing he stopped listening to his brain as soon as the first shot of JD passed through his throat.
If he’s honest with himself, he knows everything that’s happened is his own fault. He didn’t try. But as the night went on, that thought started to slip from his mind, and then the only one he was blaming was Steve.
’Fucking bastard for leaving me like this.’
And now that it’s morning, if his eyes are really seeing light from the window, he doesn’t blame anyone. Well, he does. He blames fate. ’Fuck her for being fucking mean’.
“Why do I need Steve, anyway?” He says out loud.
’Because he’s the other part of you’, his mind adds.
He promptly chooses to ignore it.
~*~*~
It’s mid afternoon when Chris resembles a human being again. He didn’t shower, he didn’t cry, he didn’t yell. He just sobered up. His heart hurt the same, the images were still playing in his head, but he thought that he’d have enough time without seeing Steve again to fucking forget him.
’Aha! Go ahead and try,’ he thinks. He fucking hates his sober mind.
He’s in the kitchen, trying to decide if he should eat something or if feeding himself is overrated, when he hears a knock on the door. He goes stock still at the same moment.
There’s only one person who knocks at his door and doesn’t ring the freaking bell.
’Fuck.’
Sure enough, when he finally convinces his limbs to just move , and goes to open the door, Steve is standing there, a bright smile on his face. "Hey man."
And just like that, Chris, who’s not usually an emotional guy, feels the urgent - and stupid, he might add - urge to cry. He stays strong though, blinking to try to get rid of the tears, and doesn’t say anything as he moves away from the door. He leaves it open for Steve to come in. He knows there’s no other choice but to let him come in. He’s hopeless like that.
Steve frowns as he walks through and closes the door. "You okay?"
"Peachy," he just says, not daring to look at Steve's eyes. Or mouth. Or face in general. It'll only remind him of that kiss. That was not meant for him.
"Right... 'Peachy' is the word you use when you feel like crap."
"Don't," Chris says then. "Don't try to poke and prod me into talking about if I'm alright or not, okay?" he says, really trying to sound harsh, but the words come out way too soft, way too quiet, for it to have that effect.
Steve frowns. "Has something happened?"
Chris’ smile is bitter. "You tell me. Something happened last night that I'm not aware of?" He asks, and this time, the harshness is definitely there.
Steve blinks at him, clearly at a loss. "Did we have a fight that I am not aware of?"
’No, we didn’t. We just broke up without even having anything.’
“Can you just go?” Chris asks weakly, still not meeting Steve’s eyes.
"Uh..." Steve is clearly - and understandably - confused. "Are you... Why are you mad at me?"
"Steve, please, just fucking go already!" Chris says a little louder, not screaming, but he's losing his temper. "Okay? Go get all fucking cuddly and kissy-like with that Michael bastard and leave me the fuck alone!" He shouts then, and once again, his brain only catches up with his mouth when it’s already too late. 'Fuck'.
Steve stares at him as if he has just been slapped, and then his eyes cloud with anger. "Okay," he says quietly, turning to walk away.
“Okay?” Chris repeats, his voice growing quiet once again. “That’s all you have to say? Okay?” And really, he knows he’s being somewhat of a bastard, but he’s entitled to. He has a broken heart. Or better, he maybe has no heart at all by now, since he offered it on a silver platter to Steve. Subconsciously and quietly, but he did anyway. And it was crushed too. And that part of it was far from quiet.
"What the fuck do you want me to say?" Steve snaps back. "You attack me out of the blue and won't even tell me why... What do you want me to do? You want me to leave, fine, I'll leave."
"Don't leave," Chris says so quietly and so brokenly he's not sure Steve heard that. He's not even sure he said that.
But he apparently did because Steve turns to face him, frowning deeper than before. "Chris," he sighs. "What the hell's going on?"
“What does he have?” ’That I don’t,’ his mind adds. “Is he nice? Is he making you happy?” Chris asks, even though he’s not the masochistic type, and even though it’s been less than twenty-four hours since everything happened, so he’s sure as hell Steve’s still not too close to Michael. Or maybe he is? ’Oh my God, he can’t be.’
"What's wrong with him? Why do you hate him this much? You barely know him."
’Because he got the one thing I’ve always wanted, damn it! Why can’t you just fucking see it?!’ Chris thinks, but doesn’t voice it.
Or so he thinks.
But when he sees Steve’s face, he starts to doubt his stupid mouth. ’Fuck, did I say that out loud?!’ He freaks out - quietly this time - eyes going wide.
Steve looks at him as if he's just been struck with lightning. "You... uh... WHAT?"
“You heard me,” Chris says in a defeated tone, finally looking up at Steve. He regrets that the minute he looks into those eyes. He used to get lost in them and not mind one bit. Now he minds. Because he can’t. It’s not his right. ’It was never your right,’ he thinks sadly, but sometimes he used to like to pretend otherwise. To think that some glances, some smiles, were for him only. Doesn’t seem that way now.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Now please, please, just fucking go, okay?” He says, too damn tired to try to argue. “Pretend this never happened, that you were never here, whatever strikes your fancy, but just fucking go.” How’s he supposed to try to forget the man - although he’s sure he can’t - if Steve just stands there, right in front of him? ’Fuck, I need to get drunk again.’.
But Steve doesn't go anywhere. The next thing Chris knows, Steve's fingers are cupping the back of his neck, a soft, caring touch, and he's being tugged forward for a tentative kiss.
The kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and just from that brush of lips, Chris feels like he’s found Heaven on earth. And then reality comes crushing down, and he takes a few steps backward, almost stumbling as his leg catches the side of the coffee table. “What was that all about?” He asks, eyes still wide.
Steve stares deep into his eyes, a serious expression on his face. "I've always wanted you. Why do you think I haven't had a boyfriend in ages, you idiot?"
Chris frowns, trying to process what he just heard. “But… but what about Michael, the asshole?” Yeah, Michael had a lot of nicknames in Chris’ head.
"I never thought you wanted me too. And I was... I just thought maybe this time, I could try to let you go," Steve admits quietly. "But he's got nothing on you. I told him last night didn't mean anything."
“You… you guys are over?” Chris asks stupidly, as if his mind couldn’t quite process what was going on. Or as if he was too scared to think he heard something that Steve hadn’t said.
Steve snorts. "We never even began. It was just a kiss, for God's sake."
“You see those two bottles of JD?” Chris says then, nodding his head towards the couch he’d stayed on all night. “That’s what ‘just a kiss’ did to me,” he adds. He’s not sure why he felt the need to say that. Maybe because for him it wasn’t just a kiss. It felts like the beginning of Hell.
Steve doesn't say anything at first. He just envelopes Chris in his arms and holds him as tight as he can. "They were just kisses for me," he murmurs. "He's not you so he's not good enough. No one is."
“No one is,” Chris repeats quietly, his arms hanging loosely next to his body, still in shock, relief and happiness washing over him so quickly he doesn’t even know what to do with them. So he does what he’s been dreaming of doing from months on end: he detangles himself from Steve’s embrace, only to finally - finally - let himself drown in Steve’s eyes again. He feels himself smile for the first time since the end of their gig last night as both his hands cradle Steve’s face softly and he leans in closer to kiss him.
Steve sighs into his mouth, pressing him closer, fingertips digging into the small of Chris' back as his teeth drag over Chris' bottom lips, tongues entwining.
Chris just lets himself feel the kiss. He initiated it but he wants Steve to take the lead. For the other man to show him just how much he wants him. He was feeling so lost only minutes ago, he needs that kind of reassurance, needs the physical reassurance of this kiss. One of his hands travels over Steve’s face, then goes to the back of his neck and keeps on traveling down. It finally stops on the small of Steve’s back, gripping his t-shirt hard, as if to make sure Steve’s really there. His other hand stays on Steve’s face, his thumb caressing Steve’s cheek oh-so gently, almost like a caress from a breeze.
"I'm right here," Steve mumbles against his lips, not stopping, raining more kisses onto Chris' mouth. "Right here."
“Yeah, you are,” Chris says, finally breaking their kiss to look at Steve’s eyes once again. “Yeah, you are,” he repeats, and he’s positive he has a stupid little grin on his face, but he doesn’t care.
"No one's ever held a candle to you," Steve murmurs, resting his forehead against Chris'. "I've wanted you... for so long..."
Chris doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. “You wanted this…” He whispers, closing his eyes, thinking about all he’s been through, all they could have been if he was just quicker, if only he had the balls before. “I thought you didn’t. I thought I was the only one…” He trails off, the hand on Steve’s t-shirt gripping it even harder than before, his voice showing just how sorry he was that he made both of them go through all that drama.
Steve envelopes him in his arms again, holding him as tight as humanly possible. "I've been in love with you... for years... but... I never had the guts..."
“Stupidass…” Chris says without heat, not knowing if he’s cursing Steve or himself. ‘Probably the latter’, he thinks and he wraps his arms around Steve’s torso. “Damn you for making me all clingy like this,” he adds with a lighter tone even though he doesn’t let go of Steve.
Steve chuckles and kisses his temple softly. "I'm just irresistible."
"And humble," Chris adds with a smile, rolling his eyes.
"Christian Kane is trying to teach someone about humbleness?" Steve grins. "Spare me."
"Jackass," Chris says, pinching Steve's sides. "You're staying, right?" He adds so out of the blue he surprises himself when he hears his own question. In a desperate tone. He figures it's okay to let it show, though. This is Steve. This is them.
"If you want me to."
"I want you to."
Steve smiles, his thumb stroking Chris' bottom lip reverently. "Then I'm not going anywhere."
Chris grins, closing the gap between their mouths to kiss Steve once more. His lips work frantically, his tongue wanting to taste and feel each and every part of Steve’s mouth. When Steve pulls back, pupils blown wide, the green in his eyes almost imperceptible, Chris almost looses it. When Steve tries to start kissing him again though, Chris pulls back, smirking at Steve. The younger man practically growls, leaning in to try to catch Chris’ mouth once again, only to find Chris teasing him all over again.
“Chris…” Steve murmurs, his hand gripping Chris’ waist tightly.
“Wha’? I’m doing nothing…” Chris murmurs back, making his way to Steve’s mouth really slowly. Before their lips meet though, Chris sticks out his tongue, licking Steve’s lips softly, the touch almost not there.
Steve groans. "I hate you... don't... don't tease..."
“Not teasing,” Chris whispers, licking Steve’s upper lip right before biting it softly. “I’m only getting started.”
Steve sighs longingly. He manages to just slip his hand under Chris' shirt when the doorbell rings. He groans loudly. "Fuck it."
"Shit," Chris curses, resting his forehead on Steve's shoulders as he takes one deep breath to try to cool down a bit. He pulls back, giving Steve one apologetic smile before walking to the door to see who the person that is about to get punched for interrupting them is. But as soon as he opens the door, he finds himself too speechless and too surprised to say or do much. "Michael?"
The man smiles politely at him. "Uh... sorry for bothering you... I was wondering if maybe Steve's around?"
"Uh..." Chris says stupidly, all his fears resurfacing. ’Get a grip, Kane. Steve just showed you he wants this,’ he thinks, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. He's here," he says then, although he doesn't open the door for Michael to come inside. He doesn't even realize he's doing that until Michael sizes him up, with a clear look that says, 'so... will you let me come in or what?' Only then does Chris give the guy enough space to get inside.
"Thanks," Michael offers, before walking quickly into the living room. Steve gapes at him. "What are you doing here?"
"I went to your place, knocked on your door ‘til my knuckles started to hurt, and you didn't answer," Michael says, smiling as he gets closer to Steve. "Thought you might be here since you and Chris are practically glued at the hip or something," he adds, his hand going to Steve's waist.
Chris fumes just seeing that, but he keeps still, trying to remember what just happened and waiting - hoping - that Steve will push the guy away soon. Because he sure as hell will deal with it if it takes too long.
Steve takes a step back. "I told you, Michael... They were just kisses. They didn't mean a thing."
“I know you don’t mean that,” Michael says, clearly not understanding Steve’s step back as a way to keep distance between them, or just not caring; he steps closer to Steve again. “Not with the way you reacted to those kisses.”
Steve's jaw clenches. "I told you it didn't mean any thing. It was nothing, Michael. It was a mistake."
Michael’s brow furrows, his loving look changing into a confused one. “You care to explain to me why you now think it was a mistake?” He asks.
Near the door, Chris is just one moment away from jumping at the guy. And not in the good way.
"I told you this morning. I just went with the spur of the moment and I shouldn’t have done that. I told you last night too."
“So this was just a spur of the moment thing to you?” Michael asks, but before Steve can answer, Michael closes the distance between them and kisses him hard on the lips. He doesn’t have the time to lengthen the kiss much though, because a second later Chris is behind him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Steve.
“Get off me, man!” Michael says, looking back at Chris angrily. “What the fuck?” He asks as he from Chris to Steve, having no idea what the hell just happened.
Steve's chest is heaving as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and glares at Michael. "What part of 'no' don't you fuckin' get?!" He snarls. He walks up to the both of them and puts a hand to Chris' shoulder. "Let him go."
Chris glares back at Michael for a second before pushing him away gracelessly. "You heard Steve. He said no," Chris says, and he's impressed he manages to say that with a steady voice. "And if you insist on not hearing him, hear me then: get out of my house."
Michael glares at them both. "I should have known," he spits at Steve. "You're just a whore."
Chris doesn’t even see himself punching Michael, he just feels the other guy’s jaw connecting with his fist, and the next thing he knows, Michael is jumping on him. Before the guy can do much more than try to punch him back, he hits him again, this time on the guy’s cheek.
“I said get out of my house,“ Chris spits, wanting to grab his hand and grunt in pain because fuck it hurts, but the hell if he’ll show Michael he’s in any pain. Especially because, if it’s hurting him, he can only imagine how Michael must be feeling. ‘Take that, assfuck’.
Michael lunges at him again, his fist connecting with Steve's cheekbone when Steve steps in to try to stop the madness. Steve's head turns sharply at the impact, but then he just glares. "ENOUGH!" He roars. "Get out!"
"You hurt Steve once more and I'll fucking kick your ass to the ground, you motherfucker," Chris spits, pushing Michael away from them both, and in the direction of the door. "You know the way out."
Michael shoots a nasty look at them before finally relenting, walking out of the living room and of the house.
"Fucking bastard," Chris says through his teeth, so angry he can barely feel the pain in his hand. He looks at Steve and sees the other man's cheek turning a not-so-pleasant shade of purple right where Michael punched him. "Oh fuck," he says, turning back to Steve, his injured hand going to Steve's cheek softly, so as not to hurt the man. It’s only then that he has the time to look at his hand and he realizes that his knuckles are also starting to turn an unpleasant shade of red. "Fuck," he says again, although he quickly forgets about it as he turns his attention back to Steve's face. "Does it hurts as bad as it looks?" He asks quietly, looking into Steve's eyes.
"Funny," Steve says with a weak smile, cradling Chris' hand gently in his. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."
"It's nothing" Chris says, even though he winces when Steve touches his hand a little harder. His other hand goes to Steve's mouth, his thumb caressing his lips - or maybe he’s trying to get rid of every hint of Michael still on Steve's lips, Chris is not sure.
"C'mon," Steve says quietly after a moment, looking away and averting his gaze. "You need some ice."
"I don't need ice," Chris says, pulling at Steve's hand to make the man look at him again. "I only need you," he adds, giving Steve a small kiss. "Please."
Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pulls back. "I'd better go."
"Wait, what?" Chris says, eyes going wide. "Why?"
Steve sighs. "I just... gotta go."
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chris says, his heart starting to hurt more then his hand. “After what just happened, after that fucking bastard kissed you inside my god damn house, you’re going to leave?” He asks, because really, this makes no sense at all. ‘I need you here,’ he wants to say but right now, he’s not sure he wants to show that desperation. He’s not sure of anything.
"I'm sorry he hurt you," Steve says quietly, head bowed. "I'm sorry he came here. I'm sorry he thought... 'm just sorry."
“Hey,” Chris says quietly, getting closer to Steve again, cupping his face softly. “You don’t need to apologize for him.” His tone is matter of fact. “It’s not your fault he came here. From what I understood, you two had already talked about you not wanting anything with him, right?” Chris asks, receiving a nod as an answer. “See? Not your fault.” He kisses Steve’s bruised cheek very softly. “Just proof that you really are irresistible.”
"Or that I'm really a slut," Steve spits in self-contempt, still refusing to meet Chris' eyes.
“Oh, don’t you dare believe him,” Chris says in a serious tone, grabbing Steve’s chin gently and making the man look at him. “You’re not… that.“ Chris refuses to say that word in reference to Steve. “You just made a mistake by thinking that the guy was even a bit nice,” he adds in a softer tone. “Don’t let him get to you like that, okay?”
Steve exhales slowly. "I just... I wish I never touched him."
“Yeah, me too,” Chris says sincerely. “But he’s not the one who’ll touch you anymore.” Chris smiles, cupping Steve’s face and giving him a soft kiss. “And you’ll definitely never touch anyone else but me, you hear that?” He adds, pushing Steve’s shoulder. “I’m yours for the taking” he finishes quietly, grabbing one of Steve’s hands and putting it on the left side of his chest, right on top of his heart.
Steve smiles weakly back at him. "Are you sure you want me?"
Chris makes a sound close to a growl before crushing their mouths together in a hurried kiss. He tries to put everything to it - the love, the need, the longing - to try to make Steve realize just how sure he is. The kiss goes on for what could be minutes or hours, he’s not sure, but when they part, they’re both gasping for air. Steve doesn’t even give them time to breathe properly; he chases Chris’ mouth again, biting his bottom lip. Chris smirks, pulling back slowly. “You sure I still need to answer your stupid questions?”
Steve smiles. "Well then," he says, taking Chris' uninjured hand and guiding it over his own heart. "I'm yours for the taking, too."
Chris smiles, closing the distance between them, peppering small kisses all over Steve's chin and under his ear. "Hell yeah, you are," he says. "All fucking mine."
Steve laughs and pulls him close. "All fucking yours."
FIN.
PS: Just one little thing I'm (cammissbloom) deciding to put here. The whole idea of this fic was to write something where Chris is not the bad guy. Because even though making him the bad guy once or twice may be fun, reading him being the one who hurts everyone, every time, gets exhausting. At least for me.