Vin sighed heavily as he pressed the number-eleven button in the elevator. The whole afternoon had been wasted — the suit, the trip over to the courthouse, the waiting around, only to find out that the trial had been postponed. Not that he had a whole lot of other stuff to do, but he was sure he could have found something productive, or at least entertaining, to have done with the last three hours. Then again, with Chris out of town, he probably would have just spent the time staring at the man's dark, empty office.He reached up to tug at the tie around his neck, remembering too late that he'd ripped the restricting thing off as soon as he'd gotten into the Jeep. He pulled at the stiff collar of his shirt instead, as he longed for the t-shirt awaiting him inside his duffel bag back at his desk.
The elevator dinged and did nothing — as if it knew that another moment would have Vin clawing at the metal to get out. Finally, it slid its doors casually open and Vin was out of the contraption in a flash, walking as fast as he could toward the office he shared with his teammates. If he had to spend one more minute in the damn, starched shirt, he was going to kill someone; he was pretty sure he'd get voluntary manslaughter for it, with a reduced sentence; it'd be worth it.
As he neared the office, Vin began undoing the buttons on his shirt. He'd be out of it two seconds after he hit his desk and tore open the duffel containing the cotton relief.
But the moment he stepped through the doorway, he was pelted with noise and tiny circles of white paper.
"Surprise!"
Vin stood there with both his shirt and his mouth hanging open.
Then he was ambushed by too many bodies, with too many hands, herding him into the office space, patting him on the back, and chattering in his ears. He was pushed and pulled along to his own desk, which he found covered with a large sheet cake.
The thing looked like a kid's birthday cake — covered with little, plastic dune-buggies, motorcycles, and pine trees sunk into frosting hills. The only thing incongruous was the blue lettering which read, "Happy Anniversary Vin."
He looked at his teammates, puzzled.
It was Buck who explained. "It's been five years. Five since ya joined the team — thought that was reason to celebrate. Don't tell me ya didn't remember."
Vin hadn't. Five years? Had it really been that long? It sure as hell didn't feel like it.
Someone then shoved a cup of something dark and carbonated into his hand and he drank, hardly tasting the syrupy cola. He couldn't believe that his teammates — his friends — had remembered, let alone that they'd gone to the trouble of throwing him a party. But even so, he couldn't help feeling more than a slight twinge of disappointment. They'd forgotten the reason he was even on this team; they'd forgotten the one man who'd been responsible for dragging his sorry ass into the best job he'd ever had, working beside the best bunch of guys he'd ever known.
They'd forgotten Chris Larabee.
Their boss was still in Washington, D.C. — not due back until Friday night. Friday: two and a half more days. Vin didn't think he could stand it. He was staying at Chris's ranch, taking care of the place while his boss was gone — or so most people who knew thought. The fact was he was not just housesitting for the man; he'd actually been living there for the past two years, and not in Chris's guest room.
There was another number that surprised him. They'd been together for two years, and with no end in sight. He'd never had a relationship like this before, not one that had lasted this long, with no real problems. After a few weeks, sometimes as long as a few months, the relationships had always disintegrated into harsh words, dismissive looks, general disappointments, and the odd thrown punch — and he'd usually been on the receiving end of it all.
But his relationship with Chris wasn't like that. The man treated him with the same respect he did all the other men on this team, still, even after they'd slept together. And he showed him concern and affection. Vin knew the man wasn't lying when he'd said I love you, but he was only now coming to realize what those three words were supposed to mean. They weren't synonymous with "fuck me harder." They weren't a substitute for "my opinion counts more than yours." And they weren't the closing argument in a fight on who was going to get his way. They weren't words that had to painfully wring your heart, as their speaker manipulated you into doing something you would otherwise not have done.
"Come on, Vin. You'd do it if you loved me," he still clearly remembered Tony saying. He also remembered Tony fucking some other guy while he was flat on his stomach, waiting for the stitches to heal.
"Say it!" Jason had demanded. "Say it, bitch. Tell me you love me." Jason had taught him that pain and love were both four-letter words.
Luis had just laughed at him the one and only time he'd gotten up the nerve to say the words. It was still hard to say them, even to Chris — the sound of that laughter still haunted him.
His reverie was suddenly broken by a slap on the back, followed by a piece of chocolate cake being mashed into his face.
He'd turned down after-work drinks with the team, despite his anniversary; he just wasn't in the mood.Buck had pulled him aside before he'd left the office, telling him that they'd all go for a drink once Chris was back — a belated celebration.
"Thanks, Buck. That'd be great."
It was in that moment that he knew Buck had figured it out. All of it. He still wasn't sure about the others, though he suspected. They were all smart, highly trained, observant, perceptive ATF agents; not much got past them as individuals, and it was rare — an oddity, really to look at their record — that anything got past them as a team.
They knew he was gay; they knew Chris knew he was gay; they knew Chris had been married, but they also knew that he'd opened up his home to Vin and that they spent more time together than apart. They'd probably noticed the longing looks Vin had been trying to hide for the past few years whenever Chris would walk past his desk. They'd probably noticed that most of Vin's shirts and Chris's shirts looked a hell of a lot like the same shirts.
But, still, all of that could have been chalked up to friendship, to being roommates. Hell, Buck and JD lived together and no one suspected them of having an affair. They'd probably wear each other's clothes, too, if Buck wasn't twice the kid's size. Then again, maybe that was precisely why Buck had figured it out. He knew how roommates behaved and he knew how lovers behaved; of everyone, he was probably the expert on both and had easily spotted the little things which placed Vin and Chris in the latter category, without even having to fish for information.
So Vin found himself alone again, out at the ranch. The horses needed tending and he was grateful for the physical labor — it took his mind off missing Chris like doing paperwork back at the office never did. He just couldn't imagine his life now without Chris.
The truth was he didn't want to. Chris had changed everything, shown him things and made him feel things Vin never thought possible. His old life was nothing compared to this one. It had been hollow and pointless — hopping from one pair of pants to another, trying to fill up the emptiness, with something, anything, and never succeeding beyond that immediate moment.
He could never go back. Trolling the bars, the clubs, the pool halls, the coffee shops ... for a tight piece of ass. Fucking guys whose names he never knew or promptly forgot once he'd shot his load. Being alone in a crowd of hundreds, no matter how many men touched him, kissed him, took him.
Without Chris there was nothing, and he'd had too many years of nothing. He would never go back. His life started with Chris and it would end there, too. He knew in his heart. The man was everything.
When Vin finished spreading shavings in the last stall, he wiped his sleeve of his flannel shirt across his sweaty brow. It was pretty late, long past dark, and he'd yet to eat anything since the cake and soda at the party that afternoon. He split the last carrot between Peso, Pony, and himself, before heading back to the house to make something for dinner.
He'd spend the rest of the night in front of the television, watching ... something ... probably nothing. Most likely, he'd end up flipping channels all night until he got bored enough to go to bed, alone. God, he used to be alone all the time and he never even thought about it. Here Chris had been gone for only a week, since last Wednesday night, and all Vin could think about was how alone he felt.
He wondered if Chris felt the same, sitting in some hotel in Washington, D.C., flipping channels until it got late enough to go to bed, then getting up in the morning, doing whatever he needed to do at the Treasury Department, only to come back to the same empty hotel room.
Of course, the man had a lot more practice at being away from the ones he loved. He'd had all that time to figure out what to do with the space between work and bed after Sarah and Adam had died. Vin couldn't think of a single thing to do with his time, but maybe Chris had. Maybe Chris wasn't even missing him, and was happy for the break. It had been a big change for the man, having lived alone for the past few years, now having someone in the house all the time, underfoot, making messes, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and dirty clothes in the hamper. Maybe Chris wasn't as anxious to be home as Vin was to have him there.
Vin shook the negative thoughts from his head. "God, I need a beer," he told his horse as he gave the animal a final pat on the neck before heading out of the barn. As he stepped outside, he noticed a light inside the house. But it was only on for a moment, then darkness again. If he'd left a light on — which he was pretty sure he hadn't — then it should have stayed on. But now the house seemed completely dark again.
He'd headed straight to the barn when he'd gotten home, not bothering to change or even to stow his gun away. He pulled the gun now, quickly checking the clip and the chamber, and then he made his way cautiously toward the house. The place was pretty remote, but that wouldn't stop it from being burglarized. Even the safest neighborhoods got hit sometimes. Some two-bit criminal with a plan and the balls to attempt to carry it out, that's all it took.
He stepped onto the back porch, carefully avoiding the two boards he knew creaked — the boards that had woken Chris when Vin had first been staying there and had snuck outside to give the man a little space, a little time alone in his own house. That was the first sunrise they'd ever watched together, sitting in the two chairs on the porch and drinking orange juice Chris had thought to bring out with him.
Vin gently placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly twisted until the mechanism gave a small click of release — he realized he must have thoughtlessly left the door unlocked that morning after he'd gone out to check on the horses. Then he eased the door wide and stepped inside.
Dark.
He waited a moment — squeezing his eyes shut to speed their adjustment — and then scanned the kitchen and dining area. There was no movement and nothing seemed out of place as far as he could tell.
He moved toward the living room, looking down the short hallway toward the front door as he did so. Again nothing unusual caught his well-trained eye, so he continued toward the bedrooms, keeping his gun ready and himself alert. As he eased down the hall, he heard a noise from the back bedroom — the master bedroom he now shared with Chris. It was a slight scraping of wood: a dresser drawer being opened, Vin thought, the contents probably being rifled through. He continued, forcing himself not to hurry, not to rush the door and make some stupid mistake in the process.
Three more steps ... two ... one. Then he paused, listening again and going over the layout of the room in his mind, though he'd long ago memorized it. The door opened against an adjacent wall. The dresser was on the same wall as the door, with the door to the bathroom just beyond. Against the opposite wall was the bed, and on the far adjacent wall was the closet. With the door thrown wide, there'd be a solid wall at his back; he'd have a clear shot if anyone was in the room.
He took one more deep breath, and then kicked the door open as he stepped inside. "Freeze, ATF."
A lone figure stood in front of the dresser, the top drawer open.
"On the floor. NOW!"
The figure took a small step back, holding his hands up in full view, then eased himself down until he was laying face down on the carpeting.
Vin scanned the rest of the room, but it seemed empty. He kept his gun pointed at the intruder's back as he moved closer to the wall, flicking the light switch on with his elbow.
The man on the floor was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, nothing more. "Chris?"
"Yeah."
"What the hell are ya doin' here?"
"I, ah, live here, don't I?"
"Yup."
"So, you wanna put that gun away and let me get up?"
Vin quickly holstered his weapon, then stepped toward his partner to give him a hand. When he was on his feet again, Chris smiled at Vin, managing a small laugh. "That's some kind of welcome."
Vin just shrugged, not ashamed for trying to protect Chris's property. "Thought ya were tryin' ta rob the place."
"Now why would I rob my own house?"
"Yer not supposed ta be home fer two more days. What was I supposed ta think when I heard someone rustlin' 'round in the dark? What were ya doin' in the dark anyway?"
Chris moved to the edge of the bed and sat down, pulling Vin with him. He sighed and Vin could tell his was tired from the trip. "I'm still on Washington time, so I was just gonna crawl into bed ... I didn't know you were here. Where's the Jeep?"
"Out back by the barn. But where did ya think I'd be?" If this man thought that he'd gone out bar hopping ... if Chris thought that he'd be out fucking some stranger....
"You weren't here, so I called your cell, but there was no answer. Thought maybe you were out with the boys, celebrating your anniversary."
Vin hung his head, ashamed that he'd thought, even for a moment, that Chris didn't trust him, that the man would think he'd risk their relationship for a quick cum.
"They threw me a party at the office. Buck said we'd all go out once ya got back."
Chris nodded. "Wish I could have caught an earlier flight. I would have liked to have been there."
"Ya didn't miss much — just cake and soda," Vin told him, leaving out the food fight that he was sure the janitorial staff would somehow make them pay for over the next few weeks, probably by shorting them on toilet paper and soap, or maybe by conveniently forgetting to empty the wastebaskets and paper shredder.
"But I missed telling you how glad I am that we met that day five years ago — how glad I am that you decided to join the team...." Chris reached out to Vin, stroking a hand over his longer-than-regulation-length hair. "I missed telling you how glad I am to have you in my life."
Chris leaned forward then and placed a soft, lingering kiss on Vin's lips.
"Don't know how I survived a day without you..." he breathed, before pulling Vin closer.
~ fade ~
March 2002Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.
Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.
Thanks to my two beta readers for all their helpful suggestions!