“Chris!” Zach exclaims as he walks through the door. His startled expression does little to settle Chris’s stupid, irrational upset. Zach gave him a key to his room, after all. Why should he be surprised when Chris actually uses it?
“Hey,” Chris says, standing up from his perch on the end of Zach’s bed and shoving his hands into his back pockets to keep himself from reaching out. “Did you have a nice time?”
His voice sounds all wrong, and he knows it, and Zach realizes it too, his eyes narrowing as he shrugs out of his jacket and throws it down on the bed, along with his room key, his phone, his wallet.
“Yes,” Zach says, drawing the word out while he scrutinizes Chris’s face. He breaks eye contact for a moment to bend down and pet the dogs, who are wriggling around his feet. “We had a lot of fun. What about you? Did you manage to entertain yourself in my absence?”
Chris shrugs away the questions, because he’s too preoccupied, too hung up on Zach’s use of the word “we”. He and Sofia are not supposed to be a “we”. He and Chris are the only “we” that should exist. Chris has spent all night wishing he had told his publicist to shove it when she said that he and Zach couldn’t be seen at the Nordstrom opening together, walking the red carpet together, cozying up next to each other at the fashion show. Let him take Sofia, Chris. You two have to be more careful about how much time you spend together in public.
“You’re back awful late,” Chris says. He hates himself for saying it as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but that doesn’t keep him from continuing to vomit nonsense. “Did you two go for a drink after or something? I already walked the dogs, by the way.”
Zach stands up again and squints even harder at him. “Thanks. And…no, we didn’t go for a drink after. Is everything okay?”
Everything isn’t really okay, but Chris doesn’t know how to say that out loud without sounding like an idiot. He knows he’s being irrational, but that isn’t helping to alleviate the jealousy burning like acid in his stomach. Between filming long hours and splitting their time with the rest of the cast, it seems like the quiet moments he has alone with Zach are few and far between, and now apparently Sofia is going to be his new best friend and take even more of that time away. She already has earned the love of Noah and Skunk, which is a surefire way of getting your foot in the door with Zach. Plus, they have similar senses of humor, the same quiet confidence. They would make a great couple.
Fuck, Zach doesn’t even like women though. Why is Chris freaking out so much?
“Chris?” Zach prompts again, stepping closer. “What is it?”
In lieu of an answer, Chris grabs a handful of Zach’s shirt and drags him in for a kiss. It starts out firm and close-mouthed, but that isn’t enough, and Chris nips at Zach’s bottom lip to get him to open up, so he can slide his tongue into his mouth, taste the hint of champagne on his breath. Zach submits to it for a few moments—longer than Chris expected him to, really—then puts his hands on Chris’s shoulders and gently pushes him away a little, studying him with concern now.
“You’re going to have to use your words,” he says.
Chris shakes his head, licks his lips, trying to think of a way to stall for time a little longer. Zach has him trapped though, his fingers unyielding on Chris’s shoulders, his gaze soft but searching. There is nothing to do but come out with it.
“I love you,” Chris murmurs, heat rising in his face. “I love you, and it should be me going to parties with you and walking red carpets with you and…I don’t like that I have to sit around while you get all buddy-buddy with Sofia and—”
“Chris,” Zach shushes. “I love you too. You know I do. Sofia’s just a friend.”
“I know that, I do.” Chris brushes his fingers down the side of Zach’s face, then down his neck, stopping just above the collar of his shirt. He wishes he could burn his fingerprints into Zach’s skin, mark him as forever his. “That doesn’t make it any easier. I just…I want to be seen with you. I want everyone to know that…”
He trails off when he realizes what it is that he’s saying. Zach must realize it too, because a hopeful smile is playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You want everyone to know I’m yours?” he asks, a little breathlessly.
Chris does. Oh God, he does. So much. A desperate sound bubbles out of his mouth, and he leans in for another heated kiss, gripping the back of Zach’s neck and curling the other arm around his waist to draw him closer. Zach groans into it, his hands coming up to cradle Chris’s face.
“Wait,” he gasps against Chris’s mouth, then turns his head a little to break the contact. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying—”
“I’m saying I want the world to know, Zach,” Chris confirms, scraping his teeth along Zach’s jaw. “I’m saying I’m tired of hiding. I’m saying I’ll have a chat with my agent in the morning.”
In the morning, but not now—because now, he wants to remind Zach that they belong to each other, whether the rest of the world knows it or not.
Tag: semper-ama
“On The Radio” by Regina Spektor (‘No, this is how it works You peer inside yourself You take the things you like And try to love the things you took And then you take that love you made And stick it into some Someone else’s heart Pumping someone else’s blood And walking arm in arm You hope it don’t get harmed But even if it does You’ll just do it all again’)
Is it worth the risk? the asked each other at the beginning. Name a movie star couple that made it work, Zach said. Chris rattled off a list. What if we break up and end up hating each other? Chris asked. Zach told him that would never happen. They told each other what they wanted to hear, because that’s what you do when you’re trying to convince yourself it’s okay to fall in love. You believe whatever you can to make it less scary. You say whatever you can to make the other person give you a chance.
It’s still terrifying at first, even though Chris has never been happier. Every time he wakes up and Zach is there, he gets that swooping feeling in his stomach like he got the first time he stepped on stage in front of an audience. Except instead of being scared he’ll forget his lines, he’s scared he never learned the right lines in the first place. Zach is going to figure out he’s a phony. He’s going to give Chris the boot and cast someone in his life who isn’t such a bumbling moron.
But he doesn’t. Days go by, months go by, and he doesn’t. Chris can feel the fear in Zach too—sometimes their eyes meet and Zach is looking at him like he can’t understand why he’s there—but they are both trying, both fighting, and maybe that’s what really matters.
It hurts when Zach has to get on a plane and fly across the world to shoot a film.
It hurts when he calls, and it’s the middle of the day for him but the middle of the night for Chris, and Chris has to wake up early for work himself, and all he wants to do is sleep, but all he wants to do is hear Zach’s voice—and how can two people exist like this?
It’s all worth it when he picks Zach up at the airport and that smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It’s Zach’s smile—not the Grand Canyon, not the sunset, not the vastness of the ocean—that makes Chris wonder if maybe there’s a higher power after all. But then again, maybe not. Because how is it fair that he gets to be this happy? He’s done nothing to deserve the way Zach looks at him, but he’s grateful that the universe collected very specific carbon atoms together in very specific ways and placed this man in his life at this time. And if tomorrow a solar flare turns them all into dust where they stand, then so be it. His dust and Zach’s dust will join with stardust, and that’s beautiful too.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Zach asks him on the drive home. Zach insisted on driving, because he got chauffeured around the whole time he was in Paris and he misses the independence of being behind a wheel. Chris was happy to let him, because it means he gets to look at Zach and not at the road.
“I don’t know,” Chris lies. “I’m just looking.”
They make it all the way back to Chris’s house and pull into the driveway and get out, but Chris stops Zach before he can get his bags out of the trunk. He doesn’t have a ring, and he doesn’t have a plan, but he doesn’t need those things. He just needs Zach.
“Let’s get married,” he says. A tear slides down his cheek and Zach’s hand is shaking when it reaches out to brush it away.
“What?” Zach is wide-eyed, terrified. Chris doesn’t blame him. He is too.
“I want to marry you.”
“Chris….I don’t know. I don’t know if…I don’t know.”
It strikes Chris as funny. He chuckles and sniffles and swipes at his wet cheeks, then reaches out and grips Zach’s hands tight in both of his. “I don’t know either.”
That’s the problem. There is very little that he knows. He doesn’t know if he’s right for Zach or if Zach is right for him. He doesn’t know if they’ll still love each other in a month, a year, a decade. He doesn’t even know if they’ll be alive tomorrow to put this plan in motion.
But in light of all those unknowns, what can he do but throw himself into this while he has it? This is crazy, but any other course of action would be crazier.
“Okay,” Zach whispers. He’s smiling through tears now too. “Okay.”
They kiss under the palm tree that God or the universe put there just for them to kiss under. Chris maybe not have all the answers in life, but this one answer is good enough.
Waiting Game by Banks o/
(Warning: There is infidelity ahead. And also angst. But when is there ever infidelity without angst?)
—
Baby, I’m thinking it over
What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start
What if it only gets colder
Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart
Cuz lately I’ve been scared of even thinking ‘bout where we are—
Zach leans across him to pick up the ashtray on the nightstand and set it between them on the bed. “Give me one of those, will you?”
Everyone, including Zach’s real boyfriend, thinks Zach quit. It makes Chris want to go blow a whole lungful of smoke into his suitcase, or maybe take it one step further and empty the ashtray all over his clothes. He fantasizes about it, like he fantasizes about slipping used condoms into Zach’s pockets or texting him dick pics in the middle of the day. But he passes him a cigarette instead, because it’s more satisfying to watch him dig his own grave.
“You shouldn’t let me drag you down, man,” Chris says, his tone caustic. “They keep telling me these things’ll kill you.”
“A lot of things’ll kill you.” Zach snatches the lighter impatiently from Chris’s hand and lights up. After the first drag, he exhales slowly, like a sigh, and leans back against the headboard again. His shoulder brushes Chris’s. Chris nearly jerks away.
“That’s a little trite, even for you,” he says.
“What the fuck does that mean, ‘even for me’?”
It means Zach is a walking cliche, trying to pretend he’s this dark and troubled rogue living in a monochrome world. In his own head, he’s a Byronic hero—his struggles are deep and meaningful, and his volatility is charming. But that’s all bullshiit. It’s an elaborate fantasy he’s constructed for himself to cover up the fact that he’s pushing forty, dating someone half his age, and fucking Chris on the side.
Chris would tell him that, if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling and shuts his eyes, blocking out the rest of the room for a moment. He’s going to have to stop letting Zach fuck him in hotel rooms. They’re depressing. And this shit is already depressing enough. “Don’t worry about it.” He waits a beat for Zach’s protest, and when it doesn’t come, he adds, “How long are you staying this time?”
“Jesus,” Zach mutters. The mattress shifts, and when Chris opens his eyes, Zach is stretched out on his side, head propped on his hand, studying Chris. “Why do you always have to make this harder than it is?”
“Trust me, it could not be any fucking harder than it is,” Chris snaps. He snuffs out his cigarette in the tray and runs both hands through his hair. It still stinks like sex in here, underneath the smell of smoke, and he wants to run away from it. To the shower, then back home to his own bed. When he thinks back to how happy he was when he picked Zach up from the airport tonight, it seems like a snapshot from someone else’s life. There is no way that guy would let himself be this miserable.
“Hey,” Zach says. His voice is suddenly quiet, tender. Chris looks at him, and for a moment all the normal bullshit is stripped away, and all he sees is Zach, the real Zach, like he was when Chris first met him and he was just on the cusp of swan-diving into his stellar career—when he was still unassuming and genuine. “It’s hard for me too, you know.”
The way Zach is looking at him makes Chris wish so badly that he could be sympathetic and fall into his arms again and give them both the comfort they need. But loving Zach is making him hate Zach. He hates him now. He turns away and gets out of bed.
“I’ll believe that when you leave him,” he says as he shuffles to the bathroom. He slams the door behind him before Zach can reply, even though he knows it probably makes him seem like a child throwing a tantrum.
He’s not really holding out hope anymore anyway. But he’s still waiting. As long as Zach keeps coming back for him, he’ll be waiting.
I really don’t want to get out of bed, because if I get out of bed, I have to do stuff. Mr. Semper comes back today and I’ve been slacking like crazy. I need more lazy time! I haven’t had enough!
OMG it’s like we’re psychically linked.
53 (NOT 54) Pinto…if you can use it to fix up Jealousy, so much the better…
Your wish is my command! Consider this the unofficial official sequel to Jealous.
——–
Hopeful
“He doesn’t want to get married,” Zach said when Chris opened the door. The words keep replaying themselves in Chris’s mind, but he still can’t make sense of them. He already accepted that this was how things were going to play out: Zach and Miles together as a family, with their two dogs and probably a baby soon, all cozy in their picture-perfect New York apartment. In three days, Zach would be going on his honeymoon and Chris would be flying back to LA and they would see each other less and less until it was just one phone call a year, an obligatory check-in. That was the inevitable sequence of events.
And yet here Zach is, sans Miles, sans the ring that has been hanging around his neck for the past year, the one that was supposed to migrate to his left hand on Saturday.
“I don’t understand,” Chris says at last. Zach is sitting on the edge of the bed, and his thousand-yard stare and the dark circles under his eyes tell the tale of an all-night battle. He hasn’t spoken since he walked in the room, and he hasn’t looked at Chris much either. Chris would comfort him, but he doesn’t know how. It’s barely dawn, and Zach isn’t supposed to be here.
“He doesn’t want to get married,” Zach repeats without looking up. “He said he never did. He just wanted to make me happy, and he thought he would come around to the idea.”
“So…so…” God, Chris needs coffee. So much coffee. He looks longingly at the coffee pot, then sighs and crouches down in front of Zach instead, placing a tentative hand on his knee. “So don’t get married? Just….go back to the way things were. You’re living together, you’re happy together.”
Zach finally looks up, but only to shoot Chris a withering look before he lowers his face into his hands. “But I want to get married. I want a wedding. I want a honeymoon. I want a stupid piece of paper that says the government recognizes my right to love whoever the fuck I want to love. Chris.”
Fuck, fuck. Chris reaches up and strokes his fingers through Zach’s hair, his heart clenching with each heave of Zach’s shoulders. He can’t fix this one. He hates that he can’t fix this one. Zach should never look this broken. He is the most put-together person Chris knows.
“Please don’t tell me I’m being stupid,” Zach says, his voice watery and muffled against his palms.
“You aren’t being stupid,” Chris murmurs. And he means it. The fact is, he wants a wedding someday too. It’s the closest to a fairy tale that any person can get—proclaiming to the world ‘I’ve been searching my whole life, and I’ve decided that this one is the one.’ He may keep the romantic inside of him carefully hidden from Zach—and from most other people—but he can imagine himself standing at an altar plain as day. And he can imagine Zach standing across from him just as easily.
“Come home with me,” he blurts. His cheeks start to heat up just in time for Zach to lift his head and look at him in disbelief.
“What?”
The tear tracks on Zach’s face just make Chris want to double down. He takes a deep breath and says it again. “Come home with me. Come back to LA.”
“I…don’t understand…”
“There’s nothing here for you, Zach. You’re going to have to move out anyway, and…just come stay with me for a while. Until you figure out what to do. I have too much room for one person anyway, and I…” He sighs, drops his hand from Zach’s hair to clasp his fingers. “I miss you.”
He expects incredulity or maybe even anger. It’s hardly a declaration of love, but it still feels misplaced when Zach is heartbroken and came to him for comfort. But Zach doesn’t look shocked or mad. He looks…resigned. A little thoughtful. Hope makes Chris’s heart flutter.
“I miss you too,” Zach says at last. “And…and I miss the way things used to be. It feels like I’ve gotten so off course.”
“Then let’s get you back on course.” Chris squeezes Zach’s hand and gets another squeeze in return. Maybe he isn’t the best one for the job, considering how much he’s felt like he’s falling apart himself over the past few months, but he thinks he can do this. He can be strong for Zach, if that’s what’s required of him.
“Okay,” Zach whispers. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Chris’s, and Chris stops breathing. “Okay, I’ll go home with you.”
That isn’t a declaration of love either, but it’s a start.
**blushes furiously because @semper-ama answered my prompt**
Love this so much!! Now it needs to be a full fic with a wedding at the end. A big Italian wedding with the piece of paper and Zach getting everything he wanted. I know, I know…mission creep.
Thank you BB!!
AU Moments | Zach & Chris spend hours chatting on Skype
Who’s writing this? rabidchild67? semper-ama?
They look like they are each sitting in their mom’s kitchen…
I hope when it comes time for the Skype sex, they are no longer sitting in their mothers’ kitchens.
Yes, let’s hope they go to the basement rumpus room for that…
That terrible moment when you don’t notice the typo until someone else reblogs your Six Sentence Sunday post
DOH!
Replies
to my last Few Words Wednesday
mightymads said: Oh I love his ruminations, the way everything caught up with him.
Yes, it’s the difference between fantasizing about something and actually doing it. And actually owning your reactions to it, even when they don’t fit into your ideas of yourself. And maybe Doms need aftercare, too. Luckily, Chris isn’t one to let him stew in his own head…
semper-ama said: Awwwww, noooo, Zach. D:
Yeah. 😦 Babies! In truth, I think Zach spent so long planning that encounter that he’s pretty thrown that it didn’t all go exactly as planned. And he’s surprised and a little disturbed by his own reactions. And that combination, of not being as in control as he thought and having such a strong reaction to it…that’s a little scary.
Few Words Wednesday
Okay, since we’re talking about it, have a snippet. (Look keep-calm-and-ks, proof I’m still working on the thing!)
——–
Finding the really scary stuff, the stuff about him and Chris, is less difficult than he thought it would be. He guessed he would have to go back to Google…
Six Sentence Sunday
More from the C&Z&fanfic fic.
——–
Chris starts pacing again, waving his arms around as he speaks. “I mean, for Kirk and Spock, sure, I expected a lot there, and there are. Tens of thousands. Nothing there was really all that surprising though. Every other story involved pon farr in some way, I swear. But there are hundreds and hundreds of stories about you and me, Zach. I thought it was something that just maybe a handful of, uh, passionate fans would write, but there are actually a lot of people out there writing it!”
Zach sighs wearily and places his water bottle between his knees so he can scrub both hands across his face. He isn’t really sure what Chris wants him to say here. It’s not like he can unread the stories for him.
“I’m aware, Chris. What’s your point?”
Chris frowns, like he was expecting a little more surprise. “Okay. Okay. But are you aware that one of the recurring themes of these stories is—”
Zach actually claps his hands over his ears. He has half a mind to start humming loudly, just in case Chris decides to keep talking and drag him down into the pit of despair with him. Luckily, Chris shuts up, his lower lip jutting petulantly. Only when Zach is certain that the danger has passed does he lower his hands. That was close.
“—you dominating me? Like, in a kinky way?”
“Christopher.“
I can’t wait for this…
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