Tag: Bleary!verse

WHEN YOU SEE THIS, SHARE THREE LINES FROM A WIP

by way of @entrenous88.  

Zach awoke to a darkened bedroom, Chris still curved close to his back, but definitely not asleep. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled against the back of Zach’s neck.  “It’s three in the fucking morning and I should leave you alone and let you sleep, but—”

“No you shouldn’t,” Zach interrupted pressing himself back into Chris again. “You should definitely not stop.  You should show me how much you missed me.”

Few Words Wednesday

From Cleaving.

They all went up and snuggled Nathan.  First Margo and then Chris, who shut the door most of the way as he left, leaving Zach and Nathan alone to say goodnight in the dim room.

“Santa come?”

“I think so.  Have you been good?”

“Nat’an good.  Daddy good?”

Zach huffed a laugh, wondering how to answer.  “I’ve certainly tried to be good,” he finally settled on.

“Babbo good?”

That sobered him up.  Biting his lip he said quietly, “I think Babbo’s tried to be good, too.”  Clearing his throat he added, “But you know, Santa is especially for little kids.  He doesn’t really bring presents for grownups.  So if Babbo and I don’t have anything from him, it doesn’t mean we were bad, okay?”

His brow furrowed into a worried line.  “Nat’an big boy.”

“Yes, you are my big boy, aren’t you?” Zach said, hugging Nathan more tightly.  “But you’re still little enough for Santa.  Don’t worry.  Now lie down with Gustafer and go to sleep so Santa will come.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving…

The next hour was spent cutting out images that Margo had printed from the photos they’d emailed her over the last year.  There were metal backs that the images could be glued to, and then the “frames” could be decorated with glitter, tiny bows, and other Christmas themed shapes.  Several were finished and lined up on the edge of the table when Chris’ phone rang, the ringtone inserting dissonant notes into the joyful Christmas music they’d been listening to. Chris grimaced when he saw the name, gave a quick apologetic look to Zach, and retreated to the living room as he answered with a clipped “Melissa.”  Zach watched him disappear around the corner and turned back to see his mom raising an eyebrow.

“His assistant,” Zach said, shrugging a little.  “Something must have come up.”  They continued with the project, Nathan spreading glitter on his cheeks and hair and probably the banana he was eating for a snack, but Zach was more focused on the rise and fall of Chris’ voice in the next room.  He wasn’t able to make out words, but the tone was enough to tell him there was a problem.  After a moment he stood, grabbing Chris’ eggnog as an excuse to go in the other room. Chris’ voice became clear before he’d rounded the corner.

“…no, absolutely not.  We negotiated the timing on the press work.  On my way back to London I’ll stop in New York…  I don’t care how short it is or how close to Pittsburgh, I’m not cutting into my vacation… Mel…So I’ll be in breach of contract and pay the fine.”  Chris paused as he listened, then snorted.  “Yeah, that’d play well in the press.  Disney is a family-friendly company: they should get this…”  There was a longer pause, and Zach started to move forward when he heard, “No, Mel, it doesn’t matter.  Just tell them no.  And have you looked into those links I forwarded from Gal?”  Something twisted in Zach’s stomach.  “I know it’s expensive; just see if it’s available.  And for Italy too.  No, I haven’t talked to him yet, I’ve barely been home 48 hours.  Just find out, so I can know what the options are…  No… Because I can’t keep doing this.”  Zach was frozen.  And eavesdropping, he realized.  He shook himself out of it and moved around the corner so Chris would see him as he held out the eggnog.  Chris offered an awkward smile and mouthed “thanks” as he continued to listen.  “Yeah, well, I’ve been ignoring Karen’s messages on purpose.  Tell her to take a week or two off.  I don’t want to hear about any new scripts right now…”  He looked down at the floor, like Nathan did when he was being scolded.  When he spoke again, his voice was weary.  “Well, the fire might be hot, but I’m burning out.  And she works for me, not the other way around…  Okay, thanks Mel.  Have a good holiday.”

Chris hung up and took the cup of eggnog, downing it in one swallow.  Zach hoped the brandy helped.  

Late FWW

From Cleaving.

The afternoon passed lazily.  When the cookies came out of the oven, Zach declared it was time for Nathan’s afternoon nap, and a quick reminder of Santa had the boy quickly bestowing kisses and hugs before heading up the stairs.  If Chris felt any surprise at the bear hug Nathan gave him — the sledding debacle long forgotten in the toddler’s mind — he showed no hesitation in returning it, his eyes falling closed with relief.  And Zach thought that would be the end of it.   But Chris remained quiet, going up to their room to retrieve some books and settling on the sofa in front of the fire.  He seemed happy enough to share the space when Zach plopped down on the other end and pulled Chris’ feet up onto his lap with only a touch more awkwardness than usual.  Chris pushed his glasses up and took a well-worn paperback from the stack he’d brought down.  It was in terrible shape — spine cracked and corners bent — though Chris still handled it with fastidious care, removing a bookmark that was surely the first the book had ever seen.  

“What are you reading?”

“Wolf Solent,” Chris answered, showing the cover.  “It’s by a fairly famous Welsh author that my makeup person in England idolizes.  She insisted I read it, though it’s no hardship.  It’s good.”

“What’s it about?”

Chris looked at the cover for a moment, thinking.  Warmth bloomed in Zach’s chest, because this Chris was familiar.  The man who thought before he offered an answer.  Who was thoughtful, in every sense of the word.

“I think it’s going to turn out to be one of those books that’s not about what it seems it’s about.  I could tell you the plot — our hero has gone home to try to find himself — but it seems like he’s more caught up in the romanticism of what’s offered and what he should want than making any progress knowing who he is or what he actually does want.  I think it’s going to be about living examined versus unexamined lives and the damage that can be done without intent by reacting without self-awareness.  And maybe the problems of forcing the world into dualist constructs when the truth is always more complicated.”

“Deep.”

Chris grinned.  “Well, that or it’s a going to turn into a cheap love story, or completely collapse under the weight of existential angst.  Ask me again in 150 pages.  The language is nice, though.  Sort of poetic.  And the landscapes he describes are a lot like the parts of England we were shooting in, at least to my untrained eye.  But the hero’s a bit of a dolt, and not the most interesting character.”

“Who is?”

“A woman.  The one it looks like he’s not going to choose.”

“There’s a love triangle?”

“Of sorts, so you’d probably hate it.  What about you?  What are you reading?”

“Vonnegut.  You know, for Christmas.”

Chris snorted at that.  “Tis the season.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving.

As usual, the lasagna tasted even better the day after it was made, and the Minestrone was satisfying the way only soup could be when it’s snowing out.  They cleaned up the kitchen while Margo bathed Nathan again, and they all settled around the tv at 6:30 to watch Nathan’s choice of Rudolf.  It was cozy.  Nathan was snuggled between he and Chris in his feetsy “Staying up for Santa” pajamas — which he most certainly was not — and he was delighted with the show, especially the misfit toys.  When it was over, Chris got some pictures of Nathan in his special pjs by the tree, laying out cookies and eggnog for Santa.  He was so excited, Zach wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep yet.  And then Nathan made it clear he didn’t want to go to bed.  It hadn’t turned into a full-fledged tantrum yet, but it was right on the cusp.  And building.  Code Amber, as he and Chris used to joke.

“Hey Nathan?” Chris asked, glancing at Zach as if for permission.  But Zach really didn’t know what he was up to.   He just shrugged.  “In my family, we got to open one Christmas present the night before.  Would you like to open one that  brought you from England?”

“Nathan present?” the boy asked, the crisis quickly de-escalating, judging from his hopeful voice.  Zach bit his lip and smiled at Chris.

“Yeah, but Daddy and I get to pick out which one, and I have a special one that I think will be perfect.”

Nathan spun to look at Zach expectantly.

“I like Babbo’s tradition!” Zach said, getting into the spirit.  “Should we make it our new tradition?”

“Yeah!” Nathan answered, throwing his arms in the air.

“I have to go find it upstairs.  How about you and Daddy go potty and brush your toofers, and when you’re done it will be ready.“

Nathan bolted for the stairs, and Zach huffed a laugh and turned to follow, but was abruptly stopped by Chris’ hand on his arm.  His mom went up the stairs to help Nathan.

“This is okay?” came the quiet question as he turned back.  Chris looked genuinely nervous.

“Of course,” he whispered back, covering Chris’ hand with his own.  “We should have talked about it earlier, so we could make sure that your traditions are getting incorporated, too.  Oh god,” Zach had an abrupt thought.  “Do we…should we be doing something for Hanukkah?”

Chris shook his head and smiled.  “That was weeks ago.  This is fine.  I’ll go get the book for him to unwrap.”

“His Christmas Eve gift is a book?”  

“Of course…then it segues right into bedtime.”

Zach felt a smile quirk on his lips.  “When was the last time I told you how brilliant you are?”

The blush running up Chris’ face was adorable, and as usual caused the strange dual reactions in Zach: the desire to kiss his cheek sweetly, and the less sweet desire to follow that blush with his tongue and teeth all the way down.  Because he knew exactly how low it could travel.  Fuck, it had really been too long since they’d touched each other.

“It’s been a while,” Chris admitted.