Work Text:
“What? You gonna stay under there all day?”
Chris bit his lip and kept silent. A minute later, Dave responded to his silence by kicking his boots; seconds after that, he could hear Dave shuffle back from his own attempt to kick him in retaliation.
Dave banged against the truck's side, laughing. “Least I know you’re alive. Now why don’t you give it up and come on out? I’m not going anywhere till you do.”
“Fuck off! Didn’t invite you.”
“Right... since when do I need an invite? Now stop the sulking and get your ass up here.”
At first Chris wouldn’t move. Then slowly he rolled out from under the truck.
Blinded, he squinted against the sun’s glare only to adjust and find himself staring directly at Dave’s hand. Seconds passed as he hesitated, gazing angrily at the hand that was thrust into his face. He was pissed off enough that he wanted to flat out ignore the gesture, but he knew Dave well enough that it’d only make him dig his heels in deeper. Decision made, Chris clasped his hand into Dave’s, allowing Dave to pull him up. Thinking fast, Chris knew the trick was to quickly side step away once he was up—it didn’t work. Before Chris was even steady on his feet, Dave stretched his arm out over his shoulders and pulled him in close. Dave guided him over to the cooler, offering what he’d guess was meant to be a comforting squeeze before he actually let go. It was Dave’s way of emphasizing that he wasn’t going anywhere until they talked.
Bending down, he pulled out a couple of cold beers and offered one to Chris. Neither spoke as they opened them and each took a few swallows.
Quietly Dave asked, “Better?”
Though some of his anger had started to ebb away, he could only grunt and reply offhandedly, “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, we tried that once, remember? Didn’t work so well.”
Chris turned and glared, then sighed. “Alright, why are you here?”
“You got people worried.”
Shoulders slumped, Chris glanced away, thinking of the number of calls and emails he had left unanswered. “No need to be, as you can see. I’m fine.” He nearly flinched when Dave snorted.
“Yeah, I can see. Let me tell you, son, you’re doing a piss poor job of being fine.”
Immediately Chris twisted around and raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t at Dave's reprimand but at the reference of 'son.' It was one of his colloquialisms, and hearing it thrown back at him from Dave of all people was a bit strange.
Dave seemed to get the message. “Don’t try to sidetrack, I’ve known you too long.” He barely paused before saying, “Point is you’re not hiding a damn thing. I didn’t get just one call you know. More like a half a dozen.”
Straightening up, Chris couldn’t stop his defensive reaction. “Not hiding. I’m here, at home. Just taking a sabbatical. Everyone else can go fuck themselves!”
“Sabbatical? Shit, you really want me to tell that to Steve? Riley? Okay, Chad I have no problem with. But fuck, even I can’t fucking ignore it when one of my least favorite people in the industry calls me acting all concerned over your ass, and adding insult to injury—he’s fucking right!”
Chris shook his head. “What? I don’t really even know the asshole, why the fuck…”
“Yeah, that’s the point. When it’s even obvious to fucking Murray, how long do you think it's gonna be before it’s plastered over every other rag out there, huh?”
Defensively, he ground out, “I don’t give a fuck!”
“That right? Nice to hear—not sure I actually believe you, but nice.”
Between clenched teeth, Chris asked, “We done?” His muscles tightened in anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop; he was sure that Dave was just getting started and ready to pounce.
Instead he heard a frustrated, unmistakable sigh followed by, “Chris...”
Long minutes passed where nothing happened; neither said a word. There was only the light shuffle of bodies as they leaned up against his truck to wait each other out.
Against the dense quiet, he could actually hear Dave swallow before speaking, and his voice was soft, the tone serious. “You should tell him. Tell him how you feel. This…”
Chris didn’t need Dave to finish that sentence as he was already filling in the blanks, answering questions Dave didn’t have to ask, shouldn’t know about. It had become routine, almost cliché in the last ten years to berate himself over his actions - and inactions - regarding Jensen: all the times where he'd held back, watching, not willing to put himself out there. In regards to Jensen he'd been a coward.
Though the first few years, he’d never let himself believe that what he was feeling was anything more than a physical infatuation. Nothing his right hand couldn’t handle. Maybe if he hadn't already learned his lesson with Dave, it would have been different; it was hard to say. As it was, he clung to denial as long as he could, not ready to put himself out there again.
Everything had changed as they'd gotten closer, become friends. By that time it was a line that he couldn’t cross.
He had lost his ability to say or do anything about his growing attraction, the gap widening with each year until they were best buds. It had been bad enough that he'd almost fucked things up permanently with Dave when they'd crossed that line. With Jensen, he had refused to take that chance, feared that his luck wouldn't hold twice.
Once he'd consciously made that decision, he'd thought he had moved on. Jensen'd had no idea, and Chris had been determined to keep it that way. Everything had been good because they'd remained close.
He didn’t even know he had a problem until Jensen started to see Danneel.
Originally they had all met Danneel just before filming Clownana. Thinking back, he tried to recall if they were into each other back then. He did remember them flirting, but Danneel was like that, a natural flirt, and Jensen was always one to respond. But if there was any potential back then, it hadn’t mattered because Riley had won her heart; enough so that they'd stayed together for four years.
It wasn't until after her break-up with Riley that she and Jensen got together. It had been easy to be pissed at Jensen for breaking the unspoken guy rule—to not date your friend’s ex. It had been a good excuse at first.
And Jensen hadn't put up any flak about it, just the opposite. He'd been upfront to Riley; had let him know that he had feelings toward Danneel beyond just friends, and that he wasn’t going to wait or ask for Riley’s permission. He'd known Jensen was letting Riley know out of respect, not because they were bosom buddies. That hadn’t changed Chris' reaction.
He'd been pissed and had reacted harshly. He hadn’t even known when he'd crossed the line. He'd just kept creating more of a mess, had acted like Danneel was his ex, not Riley’s. When Riley had forgiven them, no longer caring one way or the other, it had just made him angrier.
No one had understood, and the funny part was that he hadn’t either, at least not then. In the last six months he had thrown himself into work, touring and basically avoiding everyone—at least anyone who would have knocked some sense into him. It hadn’t been until after one too many mornings of worshiping the porcelain god followed with a hangover that he'd finally started to face a few facts.
He was jealous.
Jealous that Jensen had crossed that line of friendship, the same line Chris himself had held sacred. For the last four years, Jensen and Danneel had just been friends. Now they were more, they were dating... and not just fucking around, either, it was a relationship. The whole thing was fucking with his head.
One night, he'd been a half a bottle of Jack in, but even being drunk off his ass wouldn't have excused the most juvenile thing he’d done to date: drunk dialing Jensen.
He’d like to erase the memory. Instead he was entirely too masochistic, internally hitting replay on the highlights, making himself sick with it. The worst part hadn't been his slurred confession, or that Jensen was sober and wide-awake, but that he hadn’t been surprised—that if nothing else, he had already suspected how Chris felt. Then Jensen had gone on and implied that Chris wasn't ready.
Chris still wasn’t sure if that was supposed to mean that he hadn’t been ready for a relationship or ready to come out.
In retrospect, it didn’t matter. Both were true. Maybe that should have made it easier, but it didn’t.
He felt Dave’s shoulder nudge. He really wasn’t ready to talk, at least not while he was this sober, but Dave deserved something. He already knew more than anyone else.
Finishing off his beer, Chris inhaled and then exhaled, trying to steady his nerves. “I did.” He straightened, suddenly needing something harder than a beer. Without looking, he moved toward the house, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Dave’s hand reached out to halt him, his hand squeezing in comfort. Chris' voice hitched answering his silent question, “Didn’t matter, but he knows.” Brushing Dave’s hand free, he added, “Need a shot. You?”
He didn’t turn around or wait for Dave to answer as he headed toward the house. He didn’t have to in order to know that Dave was going to follow. Tonight he’d get drunk, again. Rant, rave, trash the house, maybe even cry, then pay tribute to the porcelain god and sport a hell of a hangover tomorrow—but at least this time he wouldn’t be alone.
FiN~