Fic: Don't You Dare Speak
Aug. 31st, 2009 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withthepilotTitle: Don't You Dare Speak
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Notes: 413 words; another one from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
1297's "Second Chances" meme, for which aurora_84 provided the prompt: "And so I walk the web in search of love / But always seem to end up stuck / I'm finding flaws in everyone"
Summary: Things fall apart.
Zoe claims the bread basket for her side of the table at dinner, giggling as she pulls it from Chris' grasp. He pouts and stretches across the table to grab a roll.
"You're being rude," Zach mutters. Chris' mouth twitches and he sips his wine, speaking out of the corner of his mouth.
"You're rude."
"That's a terribly brilliant comeback." Zach fusses with the napkin in his lap, looking everywhere but at Chris. His voice remains low enough for no one else to hear. "Just be quiet, for once. You're like a drunken golden retriever." He doesn't realize Chris has gotten to his feet until his voice is all he can hear, booming across the table.
"Excuse me, everyone! I'm off to find a fire hydrant to piss on!" he announces. And then he's gone and Zach offers everyone quick apologies, following behind him. Now he feels like the dog, running after its master; he wonders just how Chris did that.
The stall's door isn't locked, so he slips in and looks down at his lover, sitting on the bowl and smoking a cigarette. His pants are still up.
"Do you even love me?" Chris asks him, completely matter-of-fact. He silently offers Zach the smoke and he takes it, locking the door behind him.
"I don't like you when you're like this."
"This," Chris repeats. He stands and gestures to himself, his rumpled suit jacket and half-tucked dress shirt. "This? This is me."
"It's not you." Zach sucks from the filter, unable to look at this version of Chris—the lightweight who tells everyone how totally awesome they are after three beers, laughs too loud at jokes, touches strangers on their shoulders and elbows and thinks it's okay; the frat boy, desperate for approval. "I know you and this is not you."
"You used to like me," Chris mutters. "You used to laugh, too."
They go back to the table together and Zach meticulously cleans his eyeglasses, taking care not to glance at the now near-silent man beside him. He doesn't have to look up to know Zoe's stare is disapproving.
Later, he'll slide his hands along the curves he knows so well and say he's sorry, that he loves every version and facet of Chris, every square inch of solid muscle, every burst of manic (and secretly comforting) laughter. And Chris will forgive him because all he wants is approval, even from a man so quick to give in to his flaws.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Notes: 413 words; another one from
1297's "Second Chances" meme, for which aurora_84 provided the prompt: "And so I walk the web in search of love / But always seem to end up stuck / I'm finding flaws in everyone"Summary: Things fall apart.
Zoe claims the bread basket for her side of the table at dinner, giggling as she pulls it from Chris' grasp. He pouts and stretches across the table to grab a roll.
"You're being rude," Zach mutters. Chris' mouth twitches and he sips his wine, speaking out of the corner of his mouth.
"You're rude."
"That's a terribly brilliant comeback." Zach fusses with the napkin in his lap, looking everywhere but at Chris. His voice remains low enough for no one else to hear. "Just be quiet, for once. You're like a drunken golden retriever." He doesn't realize Chris has gotten to his feet until his voice is all he can hear, booming across the table.
"Excuse me, everyone! I'm off to find a fire hydrant to piss on!" he announces. And then he's gone and Zach offers everyone quick apologies, following behind him. Now he feels like the dog, running after its master; he wonders just how Chris did that.
The stall's door isn't locked, so he slips in and looks down at his lover, sitting on the bowl and smoking a cigarette. His pants are still up.
"Do you even love me?" Chris asks him, completely matter-of-fact. He silently offers Zach the smoke and he takes it, locking the door behind him.
"I don't like you when you're like this."
"This," Chris repeats. He stands and gestures to himself, his rumpled suit jacket and half-tucked dress shirt. "This? This is me."
"It's not you." Zach sucks from the filter, unable to look at this version of Chris—the lightweight who tells everyone how totally awesome they are after three beers, laughs too loud at jokes, touches strangers on their shoulders and elbows and thinks it's okay; the frat boy, desperate for approval. "I know you and this is not you."
"You used to like me," Chris mutters. "You used to laugh, too."
They go back to the table together and Zach meticulously cleans his eyeglasses, taking care not to glance at the now near-silent man beside him. He doesn't have to look up to know Zoe's stare is disapproving.
Later, he'll slide his hands along the curves he knows so well and say he's sorry, that he loves every version and facet of Chris, every square inch of solid muscle, every burst of manic (and secretly comforting) laughter. And Chris will forgive him because all he wants is approval, even from a man so quick to give in to his flaws.
