Chapter 16 of Lies We Tell Ourselves by ely_jan and sweptawaybayou
Continued from here
David Boreanaz/Christian Kane
Consciousness sifted through David's mind and for a long moment he purposefully stayed completely still. He didn't move his hands. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't let the slow pace of his lungs change and he listened to the steady, calm beat of his heart.
David knew exactly where he was and he knew precisely how he'd gotten there. When he finally let his fingers move over the landscape of rumpled sheets and blankets, he only confirmed what he already knew. He was alone.
There was no soft, quiet sound of breathing beside him. There was no heat coming off skin that soaked up the sun like a sponge and stayed tan even through in February. There was no one beside him and that could only mean one thing. Chris had left town. Fuck. He was probably cradled in the bosom of his Oklahoma family, being fawned over by his mother and worshiped by his cousins.
David opened his eyes, he winced in anticipation of pain only to find that there was none. No steel spike being driven through his skull, no slamming headache, no nausea. There was only the stale taste of whiskey in his mouth, a dry throat from smoking too many cigarettes and a feeling that choices had been made. That one chapter of his life was over and the scary, thrilling thought that another had just begun. The unknown, the uncharted. Change.
Sunlight poured in the windows of Chris' bedroom and David slid to the edge of the bed, put his feet on the floor and peeled the sheet from the top of his thigh with a rueful grin that was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His clothes littered the floor in a trail that led from the closed door to the bed and he thought that there was nothing more lonely than that. Nothing more alone.
David got up, he kicked his jeans out of the way as he walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He caught sight of his eyes in the mirror as it fogged over and reached out, wiped through the steam with the palm of his hand. His eyes were clear and the shadows that had made him shy away from his reflection for too long, were gone. He ran wet fingers through his hair and stepped back and under the water.
The hot spray ran over his shoulders as David stood, both hands against the tiles. His head down, he let the stinging heat beat down on his skin and closed his eyes. Rivers ran over the curves of his arms, down the dip of his spine. Waterfalls off his chest and streams that trickled through the soft, curly hair at his groin and down over the thick muscles of his thighs. He inhaled deeply and stretched, worked out the last of the kinks from having slept so deeply. From passing out, if he remembered correctly, with his hand on his dick, his blood full of Jack and his mind full of Kane.
Two things that kept David from feeling good this morning. Two things that weighed heavy on his heart, that kept him from smiling and singing off key in the perfect acoustics of the shower. He missed his son with a pain that lived in his chest, that burnt through his soul. This wasn't the first night he'd spent away from him, there had been movie jobs, a convention in London, a trip or two. Stolen weekends with Chris. Too few and too far between.
But this seemed different. This was different. This was permanent.
Words spoken yesterday that couldn't be taken back, that couldn't be apologized away. Bitter anger that spilled out of mouths and seeped into the carpet of his home, into walls he'd painted himself, into furniture he'd picked out in show rooms. It had stained everything, it had changed everything.
His home did not belong to him anymore. He did not belong there.
David washed his hair, silently cursing Chris for buying such cheap shit and already planning a trip to the store. He'd have to sort through the kitchen, see what else he'd need to buy to supplement the cowboy's usual Styrofoam take-out containers and twelve-packs of beer that filled the shelves of his 'fridge.
It helped to think about Chris. David found he could concentrate on the smile that curved those thick lips, the laughter that competed for the flame of rage in those blue eyes. The life that simply flowed off of Chris like water, like air ... like love.
"I like touching you."
"I like it when you touch me, Chris."
"Does this ... I mean ... are we ... never thought I was ... Am I?"
"It doesn't have to mean anything more than you want it to, Kane. Ladies are always nice. All those curves, all that soft skin. The way they make you feel ten feet tall, make you feel like Superman when you know you're not. But there is just something about this ... something harder. Something more real. Don't have to worry about hurting you ... don't have to worry about what you want from me."
"Just never, you know ... I have before ... but ... not ... never this ... you make me want it ... you make me want you ... all the time."
"I know, Chris."
David dried off with two of Chris' big, thick white towels. He hung them neatly over the shower door and ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. New razor added to the list, call my dad. The rough surface of David's thumb rubbed over the sensitive surface of his lips and his eyes darkened, his pupils expanded.
Fucked him before I kissed him. Had my dick inside of him, my come bagged in a condom, lube smeared on my fingers, on the the inside of my thighs, of his, before I tasted his tongue, before I felt his lips on mine.
And that first kiss ... I knew. I should have never done it. I should have never stopped.
Heart-stopping. Gentle. Sweet spice, whiskey-smoke and cigarettes. Chris' jaw trapped with David's long fingers, both of them sharing the same breath, over and over. A soft sigh, a low moan and David couldn't remember who gave in first. Which one of them broke and bent and swayed in place as the world seemed to stop turning for a full minute and who said okay. Okay.
All the kisses they had shared. The ones where they were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. The ones where they were so fucking pissed off at each other they split lips and bit tongues. The ones that were flavored with tears and the ones where screams were swallowed, where words better left unsaid between them were lost in the pounding rush of passion, of hearts pushing blood through veins so fast and David would swear he tasted Heaven on Chris' skin.
Once David started kissing Chris, he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.
He pulled on his jeans, buttoned just enough to keep them on his hips. Down the hall and to the kitchen and David prayed as he opened the refrigerator door.
Eggs. Bacon. Bread for toast. Butter and milk that wasn't too far out of date. He dug through the cabinets, tried to remember where Chris kept his coffee filters and pushed dirty dishes out of the way to get to the sink. Coffee perking and bacon fat popping in a frying pan on the stove and David heard his cell phone ringing in the living room. He stopped short as he left the kitchen. He stopped breathing.
Boots at the door.
Two more rings and David picked up the phone without looking at the number. He flipped it open and turned his head so slowly he could hear the tendons in his neck creak.
He answered automatically as he took in the sight on the couch. Chris. Naked and bruised, a towel around his hips, two bags of what must have once been frozen vegetables on his chest. His hair sticking up and out and a trail of dried blood on his cheek from a cut just under his eye.
David had to shake his head. He had to bite his bottom lip to not laugh out loud. He had to fucking look away to be able to concentrate on the voice coming through the phone held up to his ear in fingers that were white.
"Got into a fight? Chris? Hit your Jeep? You okay?" David sat down in the chair he'd almost fallen asleep in last night. He reached for his cigarettes and lighter, knocked one out and pulled it free as he was nodding before he remembered that he was on a phone. Nods didn't count.
"Right, Jay. Not your Jeep. You're both okay. No, I'm not stoned or drunk, at least not yet. Don't worry about Chris. Talk to you later, Behr."
David disconnected the call while his friend was still talking and sat back. He tossed his phone on the table and pulled a deep drag off his cigarette. He didn't take his eyes off of Chris, the smell of breakfast cooking filled the air around them, coffee and bacon and the smoke from his cigarette was white in the sunshine.
Here all night. Right goddamn here. Both of them too stupid to even find each other when they were alone in the same house. They were fucking made for each other. David debated with himself how best to wake the cowboy up. Water from the 'fridge? A bucket of ice cubes? A blow job?
He crushed the cherry in the overflowing ashtray, blew out the last lungful of smoke and stood up. Three steps over to the couch, warm, softened vegetables set off on the floor and his hand on the top of Chris' head. His thumb traced a straight line between Chris' eyebrows and David leaned closer. His nose brushed against Chris', David bent his neck and did what he wanted, what he felt, what he needed to do since yesterday afternoon. Since forever. Lips pressed to lips, baby-soft. David pulled an inch back, his tongue slipped out to find the taste left behind on his mouth and then he did it again and again.
He kissed Chris.