![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tourdefierceTitle: a love that won't sit still
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loony4lupin
Pairing: Karl/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: RPS, angst, sex,
Word Count: 3,400ish
Disclaimer: This is lies, obviously.
A/N: Special thanks tothalialunacy for prompt and quick beta. She's fabulous like that.
Written formardia in response to her prompt at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stxi_sinfest:
And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh
Chris refuses to meet Zach's eyes across the small, coffee shop table.
"Fine," Zach finally spits after Chris looks determinedly at his iced coffee for a solid two minutes. "But dammit Chris, you know better than to mess around with straight guys."
Chris scoffs, a tight and unpleasant smile twisting on his face.
"I am a straight guy, Zach."
He doesn't look up from his busy hands, tearing at the wrapping from his straw, when Zach curses and gets up from the table, his chair rattling on it's legs from the force of his exit.
<3<3<3
He doesn't know how it begins and he's always been a fan of beginnings. It's beer and pizza and movies and nothing illicit or dirty and then, somehow, it is illicit and more than just dirty, it's filthy and magnificent in a way that makes Chris hard in his jeans without being anywhere near Karl.
They're drunk the first time.
The bar is lousy with the crew, the first month of shooting over and they've been given the weekend off from each other. Instead of going back to their lives, the cast and crew shuts down a small bar and gets plastered.
It's packed, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other as everyone laughs and drinks and flirts away the tension of filming a movie that will only be mind-blowing or a complete flop--absolutely nothing in between. It's too hot and Chris stumbles out the back entrance by the bathrooms for a smoke.
The cigarette is already in his lips, as he's patting down his pockets looking for the lighter he swore he had, when Karl opens up the door and steps into the darkness of the alley.
"Need a light?" But Karl is already pulling out his lighter and holding the flame to the end of Chris' cigarette. The light from the flame lights up Karl's face, his eyes dancing hazel and fucking dangerous enough for Chris to inhale sharply and pull back. He fumbles for something to say.
"I didn't know you smoked," Chris says as he leans against the wall to get out of Karl's space, the alley seemingly just as hot as inside now.
Karl quirks his head and steps closer, pressing his thigh against Chris' knee.
"I don't."
Chris nods, and takes another drag, pretending he's not half hard and practically panting at Karl's proximity and the way his eyes almost glow in the dim light of the alley as he watches Chris.
It happens just as Chris goes to exhale the smoke, Karl takes another step forward and inhales as Chris breathes out smoke. Their lips aren't touching but it's a near thing that has Chris shaking. Karl hums as he inhales and exhales quickly before closing the small space between them and kissing Chris with his entire body.
And it's not as surprising as it should be, the way Karl's lips are soft but forceful against his and how Karl cradles the back of his head with blunt finger nails digging into the sensitive skin there. It's not surprising that Chris keens desperately in his mouth and scrambles to kiss back, which worries Chris at the edge of his mind but he pushes it away in favor of Karl's lips and whatever it is they're doing.
<3<3<3
Karl's mouth is sinfully hot and wet against his own as they press into the side of a trailer. It's been the mother of all days, long shooting with hundreds of takes and all Chris wants is a shower and sleep. Instead, Karl's got them huddled against the side of a trailer, devouring each other and making any solitary plans Chris had disappear in favor of Karl. Chris wonders idly, as Karl licks up his adam's apple, if this is still the beginning or if they've moved on. He can't even keep track of his own story with Karl around.
"Gorgeous," Karl murmurs into the heated flesh of Chris' skin and Chris clutches desperately at Karl's biceps and broad shoulders until he can haul Karl's mouth up against his own, the desperate sound of their mouths going straight to Chris' cock.
It had only been a few weeks from the alley and the cigarette and the kisses that dizzied Chris' head and wrecked his whole mindset of bromance but they haven't had any time for anything more than a few hurried kisses stolen on set. They are busy movie stars. They have lives outside whatever they seemed to be doing. Well, at least Karl seems to.
They kiss, all heat and excitement, until their hips are grinding together lewdly and Chris can't stop the desperate noises being wrenched out of his mouth. He doesn't understand how Karl can be so calm, when they're rutting against each other like teenagers and Karl's fucking Chris' mouth like he was born to. Yet, Karl can still pepper their make out session with smooth comments in that deadly voice and literally bring Chris to his knees.
That is until two make up technicians come around the corner and Chris has to pretend he's tying his shoes while Karl makes casual conversation with an erection straining the zipper of his jeans. Chris can practically taste it, it's so close to his face and he blushes hard as he fumbles for his shoe strings and can't believe he wants to suck Karl's cock so much that his mouth is watering. It's pathetic and strangling in a way that Chris has never felt before in his pocket of heteroflexibility. As soon as they leave, Karl is hauling him up from his shoes and kissing him so chastely that something inside sort of tears and Chris is wide eyed as Karl whispers into his ear and strokes the nape of Chris' neck so tenderly that breathing becomes inconceivable.
"I'll pick you up at nine," Karl says in an accent so thick and sweet that Chris just nods dumbly and forgets that dinner with his agent is probably more important than Karl. But then the Kiwi is gone, striding confidently between the trailers and winking at Chris before he disappears.
Chris slumps against the white, grimy trailer wall and wonders where he lost his fucking mind.
<3<3<3
It's Saturday night but Chris can't be at this party any longer. He pleads with Zach across the room in their normal mode of silent communication until Zach breaks and nods towards the door. Chris lets Zach make all the excuses for them, not caring that they look like they're fucking as long as it covers up who Chris is really fucking, and they exit without much fanfare.
Zach drops him off at home with a sly smile and some snarky comment that makes Chris regret ever letting Zach close. It annoys him how well Zach can read him and how curiously well-informed he is about everything in Chris' life--even the parts Chris is not yet sure about. But Chris doesn't give in to Zach's smile, merely slides out of the Prius with a parting wave. Just the look of his house is comforting and Chris unlocks the door with ease and sigh.
All the lights are off, just as he left them, but the light in his bedroom is glowing through the cracked door and the smile that blooms on his face is bound to be goofy and pathetic but no one can see him as he quickly divests himself of keys and coat before practically skipping down the hall. They have been trying to make time, in a way that reminds Chris that they are actually doing this, making time for each other when Chris has never made time for any girl in his life. But filming in the past weeks has been brutal and left time for quick dinners in each other's trailers and time enough for messy blowjobs and make out sessions that has Chris smiling all the way through scenes of doom and angst and destruction.
"Hey," he says as he finally makes it to the bedroom, managing to get his smile under control, to find Karl looking delicious and comfortable between his sheets and idly watching what looks to be the Food Channel. Karl, bless his heart, doesn't bother to hide his grin and it has Chris' own blooming across his face.
"You're back early."
"Party was boring," Chris says because he has no idea what else to say. Karl is in his bed and the sheer image is enough of a reality to take Chris' mind to the gutter with surprising speed.
"I broke in," Karl says instead and pats the bed. It's enough of an invitation to get Chris moving, toeing off his shoes and climbing up the bed to straddle Karl's hips. They are still smiling when they kiss, their teeth pressing together awkwardly and Chris lets out a breath of laughter that gets swallowed up by Karl's mouth as he chases it away with his tongue. It's languid and intoxicating. There's not a single trace of the hurried lust that Chris thought would bubble up when he finally got time to actually have sex with Karl. Instead, it feels different, familiar and exotic and possessive but lazy too that makes Chris' chest feel tight and he pushes the thoughts away that threaten to overwhelm and over think this situation in favor for the smooth and expansive display of skin beneath him as they both get rid of fabric and Chris find out that Karl sleeps in the nude.
It doesn't take long until they are both naked and sweating as Karl bites and licks messages into his skin and Chris keens with every finger, long and capable, as they make their way into his body. And when Karl slides in, inch by inch, Chris clings and moans in ways he would find embarrassing if they weren't so revealing. It's scary and vulnerable and shocking when Karl arches his back and Chris' world shatters into a million pieces with every stroke. Karl's hips are smooth and firm under Chris' hands as he scrambles to take claim over any part of Karl that he can, from his thighs to the broad, freckled expanse of his back.
"Look at me," Karl chokes out and Chris does, because there is so much in their unraveling that it scares Chris right of the cliff, his orgasm washing over him in blinding heat as he yells Karl's name and claws at his skin like a starving man across a desert in a metaphor Chris finds glaringly appropriate. Karl comes not moments later with a whispered, 'Chris' and it's only then in the fog of orgasm that Chris realizes they haven't broken eye contact and that this, whatever they have going, is much more than just fucking or bromancical or whatever the hell he's been calling it in his head.
Karl is warm and welcome on top of him and Chris clings as Karl presses tiny kisses all over the skin Chris has laid out before him. It's strangely calming, the way Karl smooths his lips over Chris' heated flesh as if anointing him with forgiveness and something less tangible because it's big and named and destructive like hurricanes and Karl's gaze. Chris is shaking and Karl is kissing his face and pressing words into his skin,'i know's and 'me too's and 'yesyesyes', that crawl into Chris' heart and burrow into the weak walls.
They fall asleep wrapped up in each other and Chris wonders for the first time if he won't be able to write an ending, happy or sad, to this--to whatever is taking root between them.
<3<3<3
"You're such a bitch," Zach says as he sits down at their usual table in the run-down coffee shop that Chris is almost embarrassed to admit they both love.
"Oh, Zach, you woo me with your compliments," Chris deadpans but Zach looks smug and pissed off at the same time and something that feel suspiciously like denial rises to the surface.
"You can't pull one over on me, Christopher."
Chris tries to look casual but he can feel the heat on his cheeks. He breaks Zach's gaze and ponders aloud about the shop's iced earl gray tea. Zach is not amused.
"You two are living together."
Chris snorts. "We are not." He can't meet Zach's eyes. Is that what they were doing? Living together? Fuck, it sounded so... gay. And glaringly close to the truth. They were almost done with filming.
"You guys are wearing each other's shirts and arriving at the studio at the same time and don't you dare think I don't see you two fucking holding hands when you walk to the car and think no one is looking," Zach says smugly with an ugly look on his face that Chris recognizes as a mix of pity and horror. "You, Christopher Pine, are falling in love with a man. A married man, no less, and you have absolutely no idea what the fuck you're doing."
Married. Right. It's something that Chris is ignoring. The phone calls taken in the other room and the lingering thought that Karl lives in New Zealand and has a wife and kids and an entire different life that doesn't involve pretty boys with Hollywood smiles and a serious case of emotional constipation. Chris is ignoring all that and he's sure Zach will see it written on his face. He's a terrible actor when it matters.
The pause is pregnant as Chris thinks of the laundry list of things he's ignoring until he finally meets Zach's eyes and wants nothing more than to look away. He can imagine what's in his own eyes and the thought quakes down to the bone. When Zach's expression shifts to pained sympathy, Chris looks away and clears his throat. He wants to skip to the ending but he's too afraid to read the writing on the wall.
"I think I'm going to get the usual," he says before he goes to the counter.
<3<3<3
Filming is crushing. Chris is in every scene and the takes are long and if he has to hear JJ say, 'lensflare' one more time he's going to take the microphone and do some serious tissue damage. It doesn't help that Karl's been answering his phone more and more often, gliding into the guest bedroom so easily that it makes Chris' stomach turn. Zach was right, as per usual, but that doesn't help the nausea that Chris feels when Karl picks up the phone with an apologetic smile and the lack of words between the two of them about anything that matters is tearing at Chris' throat like a rabid animal that hungers.
Overall, the week has been pretty shitty and it doesn't get any better. The set is pretty much clear as Chris and Rachel roll around half-naked on set but halfway through their takes, Chris can feel the heat of a particular gaze light up his skin. They break for five in an attempt to get Rachel greener and Chris slips into his robe and sips coffee from the small and really uncomfortable bed. Karl is standing in the shadows but Chris can feel him more than see him. It flushes his skin red and JJ grins when Rachel reappears.
The next few scenes slip by in a fog but it works for JJ, excited by how real it all seems and he cuts with a sharp rap of his knuckles against that blasted microphone. Rachel giggles and kisses Chris' cheek. It burns.
"Sorry for all the paint, Chris," she says before she walks over to shower and Chris looks down at his skin to see smears of green paint. He nods to the crew in thanks as an assistant takes him back to his trailer in a golf cart. He's only inside for three minutes before Karl bursts in with a snarl, slamming the door and throwing Chris up against the fridge.
"All fucking over you," Karl says as he bites at Chris' mouth and tears at his robe. It's thrilling but something doesn't feel right, doesn't sit still in Chris' mind as he clings to Karl. "Sorry about the green paint my arse."
Karl captures his lips, fucking Chris' mouth with a tongue so possessive it burns like fire and Chris' mind short circuits for a few moments, as Karl's hands bruise in their streak of reclaiming. Chris arches into the touch, the heat so combustable that he revels in the danger as Karl pushes and pulls and rubs the paint off with enough force to rub his skin raw. It's only when Karl snarls and bites down that something snaps--
"Mine, mine," Karl growls into his shoulder, biting and sucking on Chris' neck and consciousness is regained.
Chris shoves Karl so hard he falls back on his ass.
"I'm not yours," Chris screams as he takes huge gulps of breath, his body shaking. "I'm not yours, goddammit and you sure aren't fucking mine!"
Chris doesn't have time to take in Karl's clearly shocked face or his slowly dawning realization before Chris is choking out Karl's name and fleeing to Zach's trailer with stuttered breaths and a thousand and one 'i told you so's barreling through his mind. In all the ways Chris imagined, the ending was never like this.
<3<3<3
Because God takes pity on him, filming is cancelled the next day and Chris spends the next three days sleeping in a bed that smells like Karl and letting Zach stroke his hair and make him food. He leaves his bed to pee but that's the general extent of it. It's Sunday night and Zach leaves after shoving Chris into the shower with a promise to call later.
Chris takes his time in the shower, careful to wash every centimeter of his skin as if soap and water could wash away falling in love. It's stupid and Chris wants desperately to be more than 19 and aching. He wants to be what Karl made him without Karl's creator hands. It's not possible and he drowns in searing water until he can pretend that his body belongs to him again.
The towel around his waist is an afterthought but it turns out to be a good one because Karl's sitting on his bed when he gets out of the shower and Chris is pretty sure he's not strong enough to fight without his clothes. Karl doesn't look up from his hands and Chris takes the liberty of examining Karl at length, to indulge the pathetic part of him which is starved for this sight. He's deliciously rumpled, hair a mess and three days' worth of stubble growing across his jaw and Chris wants to crow in triumph that yes, he's not the only one suffering but it just makes him ache deeper. There is no victory here. There is no happy ending.
"I signed the divorce papers three weeks ago."
Chris inhales sharply and takes a staggering step forward without thought. He reaches out, his mind wrapping around Karl's words because his heart can't possibly imagine what hope feels like anymore. Karl finally looks up from his hands, his eyes so tired and full of regret and sorrow and love that Chris falls against him, burying his face into Karl's neck and gulping in air.
"I thought you knew," Karl says and Chris clings to him quite literally because he's still wet and Karl wraps his arms around him. Chris shakes his head and Karl squeezes him tighter. "I thought you knew, Chris."
And then there are strong hands pulling at his neck until Chris can't ignore them anymore. He's burning with shame and he doesn't know why but Karl's eyes are so earnest and wide that Chris chokes on whatever his defense was supposed to be--I can't read your mind, you Kiwi bastard.
"I'm so tired," Chris whispers when their foreheads meet but he feels the shadow touch of Karl's eyelashes against his cheek and something cracks again before it mends.
"I want everything. I want it all," Karl says and it's rough and Chris nods. They breathe each other's air for a while until Karl lays back and rearranges them until they're in a position in which sleep is possible. Karl breathes words that Chris couldn't imagine before into his skin and makes promises out loud for the first time since the beginning.
Karl kisses damp skin with reverence while Chris gets his head around the ideas of epilogues.
Author:
loony4lupinPairing: Karl/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: RPS, angst, sex,
Word Count: 3,400ish
Disclaimer: This is lies, obviously.
A/N: Special thanks to
thalialunacy for prompt and quick beta. She's fabulous like that. Written for
mardia in response to her prompt at stxi_sinfest: And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh
Chris refuses to meet Zach's eyes across the small, coffee shop table.
"Fine," Zach finally spits after Chris looks determinedly at his iced coffee for a solid two minutes. "But dammit Chris, you know better than to mess around with straight guys."
Chris scoffs, a tight and unpleasant smile twisting on his face.
"I am a straight guy, Zach."
He doesn't look up from his busy hands, tearing at the wrapping from his straw, when Zach curses and gets up from the table, his chair rattling on it's legs from the force of his exit.
He doesn't know how it begins and he's always been a fan of beginnings. It's beer and pizza and movies and nothing illicit or dirty and then, somehow, it is illicit and more than just dirty, it's filthy and magnificent in a way that makes Chris hard in his jeans without being anywhere near Karl.
They're drunk the first time.
The bar is lousy with the crew, the first month of shooting over and they've been given the weekend off from each other. Instead of going back to their lives, the cast and crew shuts down a small bar and gets plastered.
It's packed, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other as everyone laughs and drinks and flirts away the tension of filming a movie that will only be mind-blowing or a complete flop--absolutely nothing in between. It's too hot and Chris stumbles out the back entrance by the bathrooms for a smoke.
The cigarette is already in his lips, as he's patting down his pockets looking for the lighter he swore he had, when Karl opens up the door and steps into the darkness of the alley.
"Need a light?" But Karl is already pulling out his lighter and holding the flame to the end of Chris' cigarette. The light from the flame lights up Karl's face, his eyes dancing hazel and fucking dangerous enough for Chris to inhale sharply and pull back. He fumbles for something to say.
"I didn't know you smoked," Chris says as he leans against the wall to get out of Karl's space, the alley seemingly just as hot as inside now.
Karl quirks his head and steps closer, pressing his thigh against Chris' knee.
"I don't."
Chris nods, and takes another drag, pretending he's not half hard and practically panting at Karl's proximity and the way his eyes almost glow in the dim light of the alley as he watches Chris.
It happens just as Chris goes to exhale the smoke, Karl takes another step forward and inhales as Chris breathes out smoke. Their lips aren't touching but it's a near thing that has Chris shaking. Karl hums as he inhales and exhales quickly before closing the small space between them and kissing Chris with his entire body.
And it's not as surprising as it should be, the way Karl's lips are soft but forceful against his and how Karl cradles the back of his head with blunt finger nails digging into the sensitive skin there. It's not surprising that Chris keens desperately in his mouth and scrambles to kiss back, which worries Chris at the edge of his mind but he pushes it away in favor of Karl's lips and whatever it is they're doing.
Karl's mouth is sinfully hot and wet against his own as they press into the side of a trailer. It's been the mother of all days, long shooting with hundreds of takes and all Chris wants is a shower and sleep. Instead, Karl's got them huddled against the side of a trailer, devouring each other and making any solitary plans Chris had disappear in favor of Karl. Chris wonders idly, as Karl licks up his adam's apple, if this is still the beginning or if they've moved on. He can't even keep track of his own story with Karl around.
"Gorgeous," Karl murmurs into the heated flesh of Chris' skin and Chris clutches desperately at Karl's biceps and broad shoulders until he can haul Karl's mouth up against his own, the desperate sound of their mouths going straight to Chris' cock.
It had only been a few weeks from the alley and the cigarette and the kisses that dizzied Chris' head and wrecked his whole mindset of bromance but they haven't had any time for anything more than a few hurried kisses stolen on set. They are busy movie stars. They have lives outside whatever they seemed to be doing. Well, at least Karl seems to.
They kiss, all heat and excitement, until their hips are grinding together lewdly and Chris can't stop the desperate noises being wrenched out of his mouth. He doesn't understand how Karl can be so calm, when they're rutting against each other like teenagers and Karl's fucking Chris' mouth like he was born to. Yet, Karl can still pepper their make out session with smooth comments in that deadly voice and literally bring Chris to his knees.
That is until two make up technicians come around the corner and Chris has to pretend he's tying his shoes while Karl makes casual conversation with an erection straining the zipper of his jeans. Chris can practically taste it, it's so close to his face and he blushes hard as he fumbles for his shoe strings and can't believe he wants to suck Karl's cock so much that his mouth is watering. It's pathetic and strangling in a way that Chris has never felt before in his pocket of heteroflexibility. As soon as they leave, Karl is hauling him up from his shoes and kissing him so chastely that something inside sort of tears and Chris is wide eyed as Karl whispers into his ear and strokes the nape of Chris' neck so tenderly that breathing becomes inconceivable.
"I'll pick you up at nine," Karl says in an accent so thick and sweet that Chris just nods dumbly and forgets that dinner with his agent is probably more important than Karl. But then the Kiwi is gone, striding confidently between the trailers and winking at Chris before he disappears.
Chris slumps against the white, grimy trailer wall and wonders where he lost his fucking mind.
It's Saturday night but Chris can't be at this party any longer. He pleads with Zach across the room in their normal mode of silent communication until Zach breaks and nods towards the door. Chris lets Zach make all the excuses for them, not caring that they look like they're fucking as long as it covers up who Chris is really fucking, and they exit without much fanfare.
Zach drops him off at home with a sly smile and some snarky comment that makes Chris regret ever letting Zach close. It annoys him how well Zach can read him and how curiously well-informed he is about everything in Chris' life--even the parts Chris is not yet sure about. But Chris doesn't give in to Zach's smile, merely slides out of the Prius with a parting wave. Just the look of his house is comforting and Chris unlocks the door with ease and sigh.
All the lights are off, just as he left them, but the light in his bedroom is glowing through the cracked door and the smile that blooms on his face is bound to be goofy and pathetic but no one can see him as he quickly divests himself of keys and coat before practically skipping down the hall. They have been trying to make time, in a way that reminds Chris that they are actually doing this, making time for each other when Chris has never made time for any girl in his life. But filming in the past weeks has been brutal and left time for quick dinners in each other's trailers and time enough for messy blowjobs and make out sessions that has Chris smiling all the way through scenes of doom and angst and destruction.
"Hey," he says as he finally makes it to the bedroom, managing to get his smile under control, to find Karl looking delicious and comfortable between his sheets and idly watching what looks to be the Food Channel. Karl, bless his heart, doesn't bother to hide his grin and it has Chris' own blooming across his face.
"You're back early."
"Party was boring," Chris says because he has no idea what else to say. Karl is in his bed and the sheer image is enough of a reality to take Chris' mind to the gutter with surprising speed.
"I broke in," Karl says instead and pats the bed. It's enough of an invitation to get Chris moving, toeing off his shoes and climbing up the bed to straddle Karl's hips. They are still smiling when they kiss, their teeth pressing together awkwardly and Chris lets out a breath of laughter that gets swallowed up by Karl's mouth as he chases it away with his tongue. It's languid and intoxicating. There's not a single trace of the hurried lust that Chris thought would bubble up when he finally got time to actually have sex with Karl. Instead, it feels different, familiar and exotic and possessive but lazy too that makes Chris' chest feel tight and he pushes the thoughts away that threaten to overwhelm and over think this situation in favor for the smooth and expansive display of skin beneath him as they both get rid of fabric and Chris find out that Karl sleeps in the nude.
It doesn't take long until they are both naked and sweating as Karl bites and licks messages into his skin and Chris keens with every finger, long and capable, as they make their way into his body. And when Karl slides in, inch by inch, Chris clings and moans in ways he would find embarrassing if they weren't so revealing. It's scary and vulnerable and shocking when Karl arches his back and Chris' world shatters into a million pieces with every stroke. Karl's hips are smooth and firm under Chris' hands as he scrambles to take claim over any part of Karl that he can, from his thighs to the broad, freckled expanse of his back.
"Look at me," Karl chokes out and Chris does, because there is so much in their unraveling that it scares Chris right of the cliff, his orgasm washing over him in blinding heat as he yells Karl's name and claws at his skin like a starving man across a desert in a metaphor Chris finds glaringly appropriate. Karl comes not moments later with a whispered, 'Chris' and it's only then in the fog of orgasm that Chris realizes they haven't broken eye contact and that this, whatever they have going, is much more than just fucking or bromancical or whatever the hell he's been calling it in his head.
Karl is warm and welcome on top of him and Chris clings as Karl presses tiny kisses all over the skin Chris has laid out before him. It's strangely calming, the way Karl smooths his lips over Chris' heated flesh as if anointing him with forgiveness and something less tangible because it's big and named and destructive like hurricanes and Karl's gaze. Chris is shaking and Karl is kissing his face and pressing words into his skin,'i know's and 'me too's and 'yesyesyes', that crawl into Chris' heart and burrow into the weak walls.
They fall asleep wrapped up in each other and Chris wonders for the first time if he won't be able to write an ending, happy or sad, to this--to whatever is taking root between them.
"You're such a bitch," Zach says as he sits down at their usual table in the run-down coffee shop that Chris is almost embarrassed to admit they both love.
"Oh, Zach, you woo me with your compliments," Chris deadpans but Zach looks smug and pissed off at the same time and something that feel suspiciously like denial rises to the surface.
"You can't pull one over on me, Christopher."
Chris tries to look casual but he can feel the heat on his cheeks. He breaks Zach's gaze and ponders aloud about the shop's iced earl gray tea. Zach is not amused.
"You two are living together."
Chris snorts. "We are not." He can't meet Zach's eyes. Is that what they were doing? Living together? Fuck, it sounded so... gay. And glaringly close to the truth. They were almost done with filming.
"You guys are wearing each other's shirts and arriving at the studio at the same time and don't you dare think I don't see you two fucking holding hands when you walk to the car and think no one is looking," Zach says smugly with an ugly look on his face that Chris recognizes as a mix of pity and horror. "You, Christopher Pine, are falling in love with a man. A married man, no less, and you have absolutely no idea what the fuck you're doing."
Married. Right. It's something that Chris is ignoring. The phone calls taken in the other room and the lingering thought that Karl lives in New Zealand and has a wife and kids and an entire different life that doesn't involve pretty boys with Hollywood smiles and a serious case of emotional constipation. Chris is ignoring all that and he's sure Zach will see it written on his face. He's a terrible actor when it matters.
The pause is pregnant as Chris thinks of the laundry list of things he's ignoring until he finally meets Zach's eyes and wants nothing more than to look away. He can imagine what's in his own eyes and the thought quakes down to the bone. When Zach's expression shifts to pained sympathy, Chris looks away and clears his throat. He wants to skip to the ending but he's too afraid to read the writing on the wall.
"I think I'm going to get the usual," he says before he goes to the counter.
Filming is crushing. Chris is in every scene and the takes are long and if he has to hear JJ say, 'lensflare' one more time he's going to take the microphone and do some serious tissue damage. It doesn't help that Karl's been answering his phone more and more often, gliding into the guest bedroom so easily that it makes Chris' stomach turn. Zach was right, as per usual, but that doesn't help the nausea that Chris feels when Karl picks up the phone with an apologetic smile and the lack of words between the two of them about anything that matters is tearing at Chris' throat like a rabid animal that hungers.
Overall, the week has been pretty shitty and it doesn't get any better. The set is pretty much clear as Chris and Rachel roll around half-naked on set but halfway through their takes, Chris can feel the heat of a particular gaze light up his skin. They break for five in an attempt to get Rachel greener and Chris slips into his robe and sips coffee from the small and really uncomfortable bed. Karl is standing in the shadows but Chris can feel him more than see him. It flushes his skin red and JJ grins when Rachel reappears.
The next few scenes slip by in a fog but it works for JJ, excited by how real it all seems and he cuts with a sharp rap of his knuckles against that blasted microphone. Rachel giggles and kisses Chris' cheek. It burns.
"Sorry for all the paint, Chris," she says before she walks over to shower and Chris looks down at his skin to see smears of green paint. He nods to the crew in thanks as an assistant takes him back to his trailer in a golf cart. He's only inside for three minutes before Karl bursts in with a snarl, slamming the door and throwing Chris up against the fridge.
"All fucking over you," Karl says as he bites at Chris' mouth and tears at his robe. It's thrilling but something doesn't feel right, doesn't sit still in Chris' mind as he clings to Karl. "Sorry about the green paint my arse."
Karl captures his lips, fucking Chris' mouth with a tongue so possessive it burns like fire and Chris' mind short circuits for a few moments, as Karl's hands bruise in their streak of reclaiming. Chris arches into the touch, the heat so combustable that he revels in the danger as Karl pushes and pulls and rubs the paint off with enough force to rub his skin raw. It's only when Karl snarls and bites down that something snaps--
"Mine, mine," Karl growls into his shoulder, biting and sucking on Chris' neck and consciousness is regained.
Chris shoves Karl so hard he falls back on his ass.
"I'm not yours," Chris screams as he takes huge gulps of breath, his body shaking. "I'm not yours, goddammit and you sure aren't fucking mine!"
Chris doesn't have time to take in Karl's clearly shocked face or his slowly dawning realization before Chris is choking out Karl's name and fleeing to Zach's trailer with stuttered breaths and a thousand and one 'i told you so's barreling through his mind. In all the ways Chris imagined, the ending was never like this.
Because God takes pity on him, filming is cancelled the next day and Chris spends the next three days sleeping in a bed that smells like Karl and letting Zach stroke his hair and make him food. He leaves his bed to pee but that's the general extent of it. It's Sunday night and Zach leaves after shoving Chris into the shower with a promise to call later.
Chris takes his time in the shower, careful to wash every centimeter of his skin as if soap and water could wash away falling in love. It's stupid and Chris wants desperately to be more than 19 and aching. He wants to be what Karl made him without Karl's creator hands. It's not possible and he drowns in searing water until he can pretend that his body belongs to him again.
The towel around his waist is an afterthought but it turns out to be a good one because Karl's sitting on his bed when he gets out of the shower and Chris is pretty sure he's not strong enough to fight without his clothes. Karl doesn't look up from his hands and Chris takes the liberty of examining Karl at length, to indulge the pathetic part of him which is starved for this sight. He's deliciously rumpled, hair a mess and three days' worth of stubble growing across his jaw and Chris wants to crow in triumph that yes, he's not the only one suffering but it just makes him ache deeper. There is no victory here. There is no happy ending.
"I signed the divorce papers three weeks ago."
Chris inhales sharply and takes a staggering step forward without thought. He reaches out, his mind wrapping around Karl's words because his heart can't possibly imagine what hope feels like anymore. Karl finally looks up from his hands, his eyes so tired and full of regret and sorrow and love that Chris falls against him, burying his face into Karl's neck and gulping in air.
"I thought you knew," Karl says and Chris clings to him quite literally because he's still wet and Karl wraps his arms around him. Chris shakes his head and Karl squeezes him tighter. "I thought you knew, Chris."
And then there are strong hands pulling at his neck until Chris can't ignore them anymore. He's burning with shame and he doesn't know why but Karl's eyes are so earnest and wide that Chris chokes on whatever his defense was supposed to be--I can't read your mind, you Kiwi bastard.
"I'm so tired," Chris whispers when their foreheads meet but he feels the shadow touch of Karl's eyelashes against his cheek and something cracks again before it mends.
"I want everything. I want it all," Karl says and it's rough and Chris nods. They breathe each other's air for a while until Karl lays back and rearranges them until they're in a position in which sleep is possible. Karl breathes words that Chris couldn't imagine before into his skin and makes promises out loud for the first time since the beginning.
Karl kisses damp skin with reverence while Chris gets his head around the ideas of epilogues.
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Date: 2010-03-17 04:14 pm (UTC)