Part 6 of the Love Lies Waiting series.
Follows Any Other Saturday
Rating: FRM Warnings: Excessive abuse of the em-dash. Lots of double entendres that are cute if your mind is as dirty as mine. Much silliness.
Notes: It was suggested a while back that I shouldn't end this series, but continue it with a "coming out" story. Here you have it. From Ezra's POV.
Ezra smelled a rat. One of those little white ones with the beady eyes.
And the naked tail.
There was something definitely wrong - wrong with this picture, wrong with the whole morning. The whole week.
It had had him off-balance from - far too long for this master of the high wire.
Fully expecting to be dressed down for his late arrival this morning, Ezra was instead greeted - greeted - by a chipper hello. To be specific, it was a hearty 'Good morning, Ezra' that was in no way sarcastic, or barbed, or said in such a way to imply that the rest of the team was aware that it had been morning, now, for about an hour.
Larabee just wished him good morning in the break room and returned to his office. And he was smiling.
Oh, it was difficult to discern, this smile, but it was there in demeanor as much as countenance. A spring in his step, a twinkle in his eye, a smooth brow sans throbbing veins - Chris was either high or he was finally getting laid, well and often. A less charitable part of Ezra's brain speculated that Larabee had, at long last, found an effective overnight laxative.
Regardless, Ezra had been keeping his eyes open all morning, his senses sharp and ready for the madness which would surely visit them on the auguries of Chris Larabee's sunny disposition.
Although - it wasn't just this morning. Chris had been in a good mood since last Friday, and been working up to it for a month. It simply wasn't right.
He wasn't taking any time off, so a vacation was not directly to blame. Labor Day wasn't until next week, so a long weekend couldn't be blamed. Neither was this manifestation the satisfied good humor of a clean bust, or a case completed, or bad guys put behind bars. This was something else.
By eleven, Ezra had the makings of a stellar head ache, and he was to the point of going into Larabee's office and apologizing for his tardiness, promising to never, never be late again, ever, if Chris would only return to normal behavior. He was certain he could say something to make Chris yell at him, and then all would be right in the universe.
Shortly before noon, it was Buck who braved his way into Chris' office and shut the door. Wilmington hadn't been called in there, so there was no telling why he would willingly enter the Chamber of Doom and shut the door. Not unless he too had noticed something was amiss and wanted to pry it out of Chris in private.
Yes, this made sense. Buck would get to the bottom of it. Whatever it was.
Ezra had heard of men who went insane slowly, due to pressures of the job, and ended up wearing a perpetual smile and a straight jacket, writing on the padded walls with crayons between their toes. He hoped that such a fate was not in store for Chris. That would be tragic. Such a tragic end for such a noble man.
He jumped in his chair when he heard laughter coming from behind the closed door. Across the bull-pen, Vin's eyes darted away from his computer screen and fixed on Ezra's. A question was clearly if not audibly voiced. Ezra tried to keep his brow from furrowing with worry and shrugged his shoulders. Vin's eyes crinkled in humor and focused back on his screen, and that was all that was said on the subject. No one else in the room even seemed to notice.
Several minutes later, Buck strolled from the office, an enormous shit-eating grin sprawled all over his face. This was nothing new, but it made Ezra all the more suspicious. He peered back over his shoulder to find Chris working on something on his desk - working assiduously, for all he was sporting an eerily similar grin.
Dread swiftly descended. What if Wilmington had gone in there and the two of them were planning something, something heinous, to punish Ezra for his late arrival? Oh God. He would be taken unawares, when he least expected it, subject to some juvenile practical joke, or worse, consigned to do some hideous menial task. Ezra tried to reapply himself to his work, but it was for naught.
He nearly leapt from his seat when a strong hand clasped him on the shoulder.
"Jesus, Ezra, jumpy much?"
Ezra tried to dislodge his stomach from his esophagus as he turned in his chair.
"You don't look so good. You coming down with something?"
He worked up a watery smile, and answered, "No, Mr. Larabee. My mind was merely somewhere else." Lord, he hadn't even heard the man approach. This sort of mental lapse would never do.
Chris frowned down at him, and that was normal - but for the shocking reply. "Me and Buck are heading out to lunch. Why don't you take the afternoon off? Wouldn't want you getting sick on us. You know how busy this time of year is."
The warm hand was still affixed to his shoulder, and Ezra felt decidedly queasy. Chris 'Ball Crusher' Larabee had just given him the afternoon off. "Yes, I - I believe I will avail myself of a long bath and a nap." And several snifters of brandy with a Valium chaser. "Should set me to rights."
"Shoot, I could do with some of that," Vin quipped, leaning back in his chair and propping his boots on his desk.
"Yeah, well you don't look like you're coming down with the flu, Tanner." Chris squeezed Ezra's shoulder and then released him, heading for the door where Buck was already waiting, still grinning.
Vin made a show of coughing and sniffling, which got a laugh out of most of the guys, but Ezra couldn't do more than gulp. Maybe he was coming down with something after all. There was surely no logical reason for his malaise.
A quick forehead check revealed a little perspiration, but one can never tell one's own temperature, and he wasn't about to ask Nathan. The medic would have him admitted to the ICU or would give him various viscous concoctions in unlabeled bottles, and then he would get sick.
Suddenly Josiah loomed above him. "Was thinking of lunch myself. Wanna grab something to eat and then head home?"
This too was normal. Josiah always offered, and though Ezra rarely accepted, he found himself nodding dumbly and reaching for his suit jacket.
They decided on Cancun, a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place where none of the staff spoke English and they served a burrito as big as Josiah's forearm. The carne asada was excellent, the salsa could not be out done, and if he was getting sick, it would do wonders for his sinuses. They settled in and ordered a round of Tecate, and Ezra half-listened to Josiah talking about something before he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Do you know what's the matter with Chris?" He blurted, interrupting whatever Josiah had been saying, something about nuns and orphans.
Josiah took a sip of beer and regarded him uncertainly. "I hadn't noticed anything was wrong."
Ezra leaned forward, making sure his elbows avoided the circles of water left by the glasses on the table. Lowering his voice, he confided, "He's been acting almost," dare he whisper it, "happy."
Josiah appeared to find that amusing, both brows raising and a lop- sided smile creasing half his face. "And you think that means something's wrong? I was thankful for it, myself."
"So you've noticed? And you don't find it odd?"
Josiah hummed, but didn't look like he was really thinking it over. "Nope. I just figured that he was due a slice of happiness, like any man."
"Well," he blustered, "That's all well and good, but when have you ever known Mr. Larabee to be cheerful?"
Josiah chuckled around a mouthful of very big teeth. "Ezra, only you could get worried about a man's good mood. And here I thought you were tired of always getting scolded."
"At least that is normal," Ezra groused, leaning back again and eyeing a chip that had fallen from the bowl. Maybe he was blowing this out of proportion.
"You have got to be the most paranoid man I know. Just let him be. If he's happy, let him be happy. Doesn't mean anything more than it is." Josiah swiped the errant chip into his large hand and scooped up a glob of salsa. He hummed happily. "Salsa's hot today."
Ezra knew he was frowning and possibly pouting, and knew he was going to let this worry him until he discovered the reason for Chris' change in behavior, but for the present, he satisfied himself with daintily dipping the corner of a chip into the salsa and appreciating its medicinal properties. It was a two-hanky lunch.
He did spend the rest of the day at home, soaking in his Jacuzzi, reading his favorite book, indulging in a nap. At six he roused himself and felt much the better for his afternoon off. He also felt slightly guilty, knowing that he wasn't sick, and knowing that he had a lot of paperwork waiting for him at the office. So he called in a take-out order to his favorite Vietnamese place and thought to pick it up on his way back from the Federal Building.
Perhaps Josiah was correct in saying that Chris was simply enjoying the happiness due every man. Certainly he deserved it - happiness. Ezra hadn't naturally assumed that Chris was always unhappy, only that Chris wasn't the type of person who showed it. He was the polar opposite of Wilmington who always appeared to be in a good mood, or at least in a laid-back one. So perhaps a little of Buck was rubbing off on Chris, some of his easy nature spilling over onto his best friend.
Ezra pulled into the handicapped spot right by the elevator in the parking garage, and hoped that no one would ticket him in the ten minutes it would take to gather his things and leave. Though, really, it would have meant a walk of fifteen feet had he parked elsewhere. He supposed it was in his nature to discreetly thumb his nose at authority, just as it was in Chris' nature to brazenly defy authority that stood between him and getting the job done. His authority was indisputable, but everyone else's was clearly in dispute.
The smile brought on by these thoughts was wiped off his face when he entered the bull pen and heard voices coming from Chris' office. He hadn't noticed Larabee's truck, but then again, he hadn't been looking for it. Sloppy.
He edged around his desk, careful not to make noise, and went about collecting his paperwork. Unfortunately, the voices behind the closed door were loud enough that he couldn't help but eavesdrop.
"We can't keep this from them forever, Chris."
"I know, Buck. And it's not like I want to, either."
"It's just hard, I know. And I don't want it to interfere with things here."
"It won't."
There was a sharpness to Chris' voice in contrast to Buck's almost apologetic tones.
"I can't afford to let it interfere with how I run this team."
"Shit, Chris, I know you. And we've been managing fine so far. Ain't no different now than it was two months ago."
"I just wish I could predict how they'll react to the news."
"I imagine they'll get over it pretty quick, or get used to it. I'm really most worried about JD."
"You would be."
"Well, he's used to me being gone a lot, nights, but I do have to consider him when I'm really gone. I need to make sure he's okay with it, all of it. Everybody else - "
"Everyone else has to be okay with it, Buck. There's no other option. And I can't imagine that any of them will actually treat this like a disease. Except Nathan."
They both laughed at that, and Ezra felt his stomach clench. Buck was sick? Sick enough that he would have to be leaving? Surely not dying. But moving out of his condo? And they were laughing about it.
That would be like Buck, to laugh about something life- altering, something that had them worried about how the team would take the news.
"Let's go home."
"We can talk more this weekend, okay?"
"Whatever you say, old dog. It's not like it'll be any different two days from now."
"No, but I'll have had more time to think."
Abruptly Ezra realized that he was just standing there, and that Chris and Buck would find him standing there. He snatched the last of his things and fled.
He took the whole day off Friday, alleging illness and sounding appropriately stuffy. Then he felt guilty for pretending to be sick when Chris had enough to worry about where Buck was concerned.
By Saturday he had calmed down enough to appear sufficiently nonchalant. He wasn't accustomed to worry, didn't let himself worry about other people and their problems. But this wasn't a problem; this was a crisis. The team potentially breaking up was an enormous crisis. Buck potentially dying was unthinkable.
Even if Buck and Chris were acting as though it wouldn't change things, with Buck being so ill, he knew that JD would need consoling and watching, and Vin would withdraw into himself, and Nathan would be worse than ever with his trying to solve everyone else's maladies. Josiah, he couldn't guess.
And Chris - well, Chris might act like nothing was wrong, but he would take it worst of all.
Obviously his cheery disposition was deliberate overcompensation for the devastation he must be feeling. Perhaps it was something that, with surgery and therapy, Buck could overcome. Even cancer, if caught in time, could be defeated. And Ezra knew doctors - hell, his mother had married one. He knew that Chris and Buck weren't strapped for cash, but with Ezra's money they could buy the best specialist they could find.
Thus, Ezra spent most of Saturday afternoon going through his contact book, and debating whether to call his mother for advice. He knew things were pretty bad to be considering a phone call to his mother.
Sunday brought with it the standard invitation to the ranch for food and camaraderie around the big screen in the living room. Ezra steeled himself and made the decision to head out a little early. Earlier than normal, at any rate. He would confess to having overheard them and would extend his offer of any support they could possibly need. As surrogate family, he could do no less. He found himself closer to tears than he had been in recent memory.
A team without Buck. Six in stead of seven. Unless, oh God, Chris tried to replace Buck, which was completely out of the question as far as he was concerned.
He pulled into Larabee's drive and was not surprised to find Buck's truck parked beside Chris'. They would probably be sweating the details on how to break the news to the team.
A knock on the front door didn't receive an answer. He tried the bell, and got the same response. It was just as likely at this time of day that the two would be in the barn, so he skirted the house and the drive and headed to the open doors of Larabee's stereotypically red barn. The horses were already out, which meant that Chris and Buck would be mucking out stalls or readying feed, or -
Ezra froze in utter shock.
He knew the signs of shock: increased heart rate, rapid breathing, perspiration, cramped muscles. Impending cardiac arrest.
If this was how the two of them sweated the details -
He had to move. He couldn't move, terrified that if he did so, they would hear him and stop - which was giving way to the greater terror that if he didn't move now, he would soon be running for his life.
If he simply shut his eyes, perhaps he could erase the sight from his mind and memory. Not that it didn't make a lovely picture.
Buck with both arms spread wide, elbows braced behind him on the wooden slats of a stall, head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat as it rumbled something wicked and dark, too quiet for Ezra to hear but for the sharp sibilance of the word "yes." His jeans crumpled down around his thighs, his hips rocking forward in rhythm to -
Chris on his knees in the dirt and hay, in front of Buck, his mouth open and hungry around Buck's urgent cock, his left hand wrapped around the base of it, stroking what his lips couldn't reach. Chris' right hand was on his own erection, which jutted impatiently from his unzipped jeans, and he was hanging onto it like it might run away on him. More like he had to grip it, hard, to keep from coming right then.
It was quite a sight, really, and Ezra couldn't tear his eyes away for anything. Couldn't make himself move even though he knew the longer he stood there, the greater the chances of Chris shooting him and burying his body in the barn.
He couldn't look away, even as he kept firmly reminding himself that he was straight. He was very heterosexual. His engagement to his fiancée was more off than on at this point, what with the likelihood of her moving to San Francisco, but she was everything he had ever wanted.
Except that she had never given him head like that. Like it was the only thing she wanted in the world. Like it was the greatest possible pleasure given with the greatest possible joy.
It was disturbing, and thrilling - on some base level. Somewhere, his lizard brain was responding to them, his arousal piquing in response to their arousal.
Certainly he was not becoming excited by -
Chris' head moving back and forth, back and forth, and the slow sweet cadence of suckling, the inches of Buck's cock appearing and disappearing in and out of Chris' mouth.
And then Chris removed his hand.
Ezra shivered and his eyes went even wider as Buck let out a long, keening groan, his back arching as Chris - holy mother of - Chris was swallowing.
Ezra thought he might faint.
No really, he might faint. Maybe that would save him. He could claim he had been in such shock that he had fainted and didn't remember anything he had seen. Stress-induced amnesia was not unheard-of.
Now would be the time to run! Now while they are distracted and their eyes are closed, and Chris is making really, really enthusiastically happy lip-smacking sounds. Dear Jesus.
The report of a slamming car door made Ezra jump again. Made Buck and Chris jump. Drew their attention to the barn doors. Drew their eyes to him.
Vomiting was not out of the question.
Beyond his heart hammering in his ears, Ezra could hear JD's voice calling - calling to him where he was standing in full view from the drive. JD was on his way.
Chris was standing and zipping. Oh, poor man was still hard. Ezra felt he should urge them to finish what they started. At the very least.
But Buck was straightening up and Chris was moving.
Erection or not, Chris was going to kill him. If Buck didn't get there first.
Ezra did the only thing he could think of doing and turned on his heel - turned his back on the bullet he knew was forthcoming - and walked stiffly away from the barn.
"Hello, JD," he greeted in a voice surprisingly steady.
"Hey, Ez! They in there?"
"Yes. They're com-, uh, they'll be out in a minute."
JD skidded to a stop in front of him. "You okay? Still sick? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ezra wanted to laugh but settled on gasping as a hand came to roost on his shoulder. It was Chris' hand. He knew where that hand had been.
Buck came around the other side and reached out to ruffle JD's hair. "Hey, kid. You bring the beer?"
JD swatted him. "Yeah, I was just coming to see if you'd help me lug it in, and then I'm sorry Chris, but I'm off to Nettie's. Casey's got me helping her today."
"No problem," Chris replied, and his voice was too close. Too close for anything resembling comfort. Ezra gulped. "You're early," Chris directed towards JD, but Ezra knew the words were meant for him.
JD looked confused for a second, before Buck steered him towards the car - leaving Chris with Ezra. Leaving Ezra without a witness.
"Let's go inside, Ezra."
This polite request was accompanied by the hand on Ezra's shoulder moving to his lower back, herding him onward.
Like a man trudging to the guillotine, he went.
He'd always wanted a private funeral, but now, as he reflected on the number of weapons Chris had in any given room of the house, he wondered if his ceremony might not consist of Chris and Buck and two shovels.
Buck was keeping JD occupied at the truck, and Chris was leading him inside. Inside where no one could see his final moments.
"Have a seat in the kitchen, Ezra. I'll join you in a sec."
Famous last words.
Ezra sat on the edge of a kitchen chair, rehearsing what he might say given what Chris might say. He briefly considered playing dumb. He briefly considered whether Chris would try to ensure his silence by applying needle-nose pliers to his fingernails. He would sincerely try not to howl.
He couldn't help flinching when Chris entered the kitchen - wearing a change of clothes, but not plastic gloves or brandishing an instrument of torture.
"Relax, Ezra."
Oh, now, those were famous last words, of someone. Ezra was sure.
It only served to heighten his anxiety. "Mr. Larabee, I - "
"Shut up, Ezra. You - " Dramatic pause. " - get to listen."
Chris reached in the fridge, and did not remove a severed head or a pair of kidneys or a machete. He removed bags of fresh veggies and slid them onto the countertop between the kitchen proper and the little breakfast table-nook-area. Ezra was at so great a loss that the correct name escaped him.
Then Chris reached into a drawer and produced the biggest almighty chef's knife Ezra had ever seen.
"Me and Buck weren't expecting you to show up this early." Chris began slicing into the vegetables with surgical efficiency. "We didn't expect JD either, but evidently, he has an excuse." Slice. Slice "What's your excuse, Ezra? Because I'm not entirely certain how I should address this." Slice. Slice. Slice. "This ... earliness."
Chris switched from slicing an onion to chopping a carrot, never once engaging Ezra's ever fearful gaze.
Oh, the Freduains would have a field day with that symbolism.
"I think it's safe to say that you startled us. What I would most like to know, however - " Chop. Chop. Chop. " - is how long you were standing in the doorway to the barn. I want to know how long you chose to spy on us." Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. "And why you didn't make your presence known before Buck and I - " Chop! Chop! Chop! " - even had a chance to say hello."
And Ezra finally understood - this was why suspects sometimes peed their pants. This was the Chris Larabee that only came out when he wanted information and he wanted it now, and, God help him, he wasn't above disposing of a body in the heating furnace in the basement. He had keys.
Chris hadn't yet looked him in the eye and was almost pathologically attacking the vegetables with that fucking huge knife. Nathan would be impressed.
"Mr. Larabee, I assure you, on all that I hold dear, that it was definitely and emphatically not my intention to spy on either you or Mr. Wilmington. In all honesty, I arrived early because there was a matter of a rather delicate nature that I wished to discuss with you in private and - "
Ezra stopped, his clockwork mind spinning its gears into overdrive. The incidentally overheard office conversation replayed itself in his head.
"Wait, wait." He licked his lips. "Was this what you and Buck were arguing about? How to inform the team of your emergent association?"
That brought Larabee's eyes up. Up like twin beacons of green hellfire. Brimstone roiling from some hitherto unknown depth of unimaginably hellish agony.
The front door opened and slammed behind the friendly chatter of Buck and JD, arriving just in the nick of time. Ezra began thanking God.
Chris resumed assaulting the carrots.
"I have time for a beer?" JD inquired innocently, heedless of the apocalyptic anger radiating toward the kitchen table.
"Sure, kid. Coming right up."
They released their load, and Buck handed JD one of his own beers. It was imported, Ezra noticed with a wee corner of his petrified mind. JD took a seat at the table as Buck began stowing the beers in the fridge. And this was all so normal and calm - Ezra felt surely he would crack under the strain of remaining seated. His car was right outside, and it was very fast.
"Sorry again, Chris, that I can't stay. You know how women can be."
"You mean Casey or Nettie?" Buck asked, tossing off a wink. He handed an open beer to Chris, and Ezra fought so very hard not to watch his boss close his lips around the mouth of the bottle. Never again would he be able to watch the man so much as drink from a straw.
"I understand, JD," Chris said forcefully, mid-chop, sounding far from understanding. "They're expecting you. You should be where you're expected to be."
JD puzzled. "Yeah. Uh, this isn't the most important thing, ever." His inquiring gaze darted between Buck and Ezra. "If you really want me to stay, I can stay."
"No, no. It's okay. I know that loyalty and trust are paramount." Chris was scraping his veggies into a bowl. The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Like that screeching sound in Psycho. "Casey should be able to trust you."
This pronouncement was followed by several whaps of the knife to the side of the bowl - and JD was searching frantically for help. He kept looking to Ezra and to Buck as to what on earth was wrong with Chris.
Ezra wanted to pound his fist on the table and shout, See, this is how I've felt for days!
Buck came to the rescue. "Hey, Chris, c'mere a second."
Once they left the room, JD gulped down what was left of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Geez, I need to get out of here before Chris guilt trips me into staying. What the heck was up with that?"
"At this point, it would be unwise for me to hazard a guess," Ezra responded, proud of his honesty. He had received Chris' message loud and clear.
"Hey JD," Buck called, leaning in the doorway, "Lemme walk you to your car."
"Uh, you don't have to?" JD asked it so indecisively that even Ezra chuckled.
"Yeah I do. C'mon." Buck grabbed the kid in an arm lock around the neck and hauled him out of the house.
"Have a beer, Ezra," Chris mandated, appearing out of nowhere and extending an unopened longneck.
Ezra took the bottle and clung to it for dear life.
"The boys are gonna be over in just a little bit. Why don't you help me get the grill going."
Ezra knew Chris didn't need the help, but he knew he had no other choice. He had not only watched their interchange in the barn and made no apology for having done so, but he had revealed that he'd overheard them days earlier in what they had assumed was another private moment. He knew that the more he avowed his innocence, the less innocent he would seem.
Chris was palpably less tense outdoors and away from sharp objects. They prepared the grill in silence, and then Chris left him to tend to the coals. Ezra watched the flames lick the charcoal, eventually subsiding and turning the black squares white around the edges. He felt it was an appropriate opportunity to meditate on the nature of Hell.
"Looks good, Ezra."
Buck's words startled him; his beer ended up in the grass.
Buck smiled, all too knowingly, and picked up the bottle, setting it aside. "Sorry. Guess I should know better. Sneaking up on a man unawares." Buck's eyes always were too incisive for Ezra's liking. "I'm surprised you didn't draw your gun."
Ezra chose his words carefully, knowing that Buck was doing the same. "The very same thought had crossed my mind, Mr. Wilmington."
"Well, I don't suppose I'd have blamed you." Buck tossed a glance toward the house. "Chris, now ... I learned back on the force that he don't appreciate surprises, even surprise parties. He don't like anything he can't see coming ahead of time. And I understand that. He's most afraid of what he can't control, what might happen to the people he loves, 'specially if someone says something to the wrong people at the wrong time. You can understand that." Ezra nodded succinctly, making sure he held Buck's gaze. "Chris don't like to think that the people he knows best might be able to put one over on him, trick him, catch him when he ain't prepared to react."
"I think he reacts admirably in most all circumstances," Ezra blurted, ignoring the few times he'd seen Chris really lose it. All things considered, today, Larabee had reacted better than Ezra would have, given the same situation.
A menacing smile bloomed on Buck's face, the kind of smile reserved for criminals of whom Buck was not the least afraid. "So you can see why he needs to know he can count on you. He can count on you not to surprise him by being where you're not supposed to be, maybe hearing something you're not supposed to hear. It makes him nervous. And I do hate it when he's nervous."
Ezra sighed, grimacing as he stared down at the charcoal. "Buck, I appreciate your candor and delicacy in this matter, and you can subsequently be assured of mine. I had no intention of spying on either of you, ever. I am sure you can comprehend my surprise, earlier," he lifted his head again, staring at Buck, "and I trust that you know, truly know, that my ... discovery in no way alters my opinion of either of you. I can only hope that it likewise doesn't alter your opinion of me."
Buck's smile was kind as he shrugged and quipped, "Hell, Ezra, I never did like you much anyway."
Ezra barked out a laugh that surprised even him. "That surely is a relief, Mr. Wilmington. Should I - " He gestured toward the house.
"Nah. Best leave him be for a spell. I know how to calm him down."
"I'm sure you do," slipped out of Ezra's mouth before he could catch it.
Wilmington guffawed and smiled wolfishly. "C'mon back inside and lemme get you another beer. The grill will keep." He wrapped an arm around Ezra's shoulders and guided him back inside.
Exhausted, Ezra sank into the couch and drank how ever many beers Buck brought him. He watched as the others arrived, carried on conversation when appropriate, and ate more than he usually did, though not tasting much of it as his thoughts were elsewhere.
Surely there was no better friend in the world than Buck Wilmington.
It was a fair enough day for touch football in the backyard, though 'touch' is a highly relative term, and Ezra was needed in JD's absence. It was perfect for expelling all tension he had been building up since Thursday night. As the sun was disappearing behind the mountains, they all collapsed in chairs on the back porch. All except Chris. He stood at one end, next to Buck, and quietly pulled their attention away from grass stains and skinned knees.
"I've got something to tell you guys so listen up a second. Okay?" The way he said it let everyone know it was serious. There were inquisitive glances, but everyone held silent. "We weren't gonna do this today, or this soon maybe, but - " Chris eyes fixed momentarily on Ezra, then flitted away to the man seated beside him. Whatever expression was on Buck's face made Chris relax, visibly, and he smiled. "But anyway, the timing of it doesn't matter."
Waving off those thoughts with a hand combing through his hair, Chris then straightened himself into an authoritative stance and cleared his throat before continuing.
"Buck's gonna be moving out here, to the ranch, fairly soon. It'll be official then, and Travis will have to be informed, one way or another, but I wanted to tell you guys first. Buck and I are - are - "
The look have gave Buck was a rather comical appeal for help.
"Chris and I are officially a couple." Buck turned a little to face each one of the team head on. "He came to his senses about two months ago, and we're, well, we're not dating but we can't get married, so we're the closest thing to it."
"What he's trying to say," Chris broke in, with somewhat of a vengeance, "is that when he moves in here, he's not going to be sleeping in the guest bedroom." A solid blush followed those words, and the answering smile on Buck's face was nothing but pure pride.
"Yep, that's exactly what I'm saying. Chris and I already share everything else, we figured we might as well ... share everything else." Buck finished with a little cough to cover the humor he found in his own words.
After a minute of stunned silence, Vin was the first to pipe up. "Does that mean I get to finally sleep in the guest bedroom?"
That was obviously not what Chris was expecting to hear. "What?"
"Well, that's always been Buck's room, but if he ain't using it, I figure I'm next in line," he pointed out with a fair degree of impudence.
"Hey, now wait a minute," Josiah objected, "How do you figure that? I'm older and my back's worse. I should be the one who gets the bed."
"What about it, Chris? Josiah or me?" Vin was grinning like a kid, and Josiah wasn't far behind. They had diffused the bomb of anxiety rather smoothly.
Feeling brave enough to join in, Ezra opened his mouth. "I think they should wrestle for it. Don't you agree?" It was the first time in hours that he and Chris looked at one another.
"Are you guys sure you know what you're doin'? What you're getting yourselves into?" Nathan interrupted the silliness, looking from Chris to Buck and back again. "You thought this through?"
"You have a problem with this, Nathan?" Chris bristled. "You do, you say so now."
"Chris." Nathan's tone was all reproach. "You ought to know me better than that by now."
"I'd like to think I do." Chris softened his tone and let his gaze eventually land on Ezra. "I think I know all of you well enough to know how you'll react, what to expect of you. But sometimes I forget that I can trust you, even when you do something stupid." His eyes smiled. "To answer your question, Nathan, yeah we've thought this through a lot. And, hell, we've already been friends long enough that him moving in here isn't really gonna surprise anyone. Even guys on other teams won't think much of it, beyond, you know, rumors of us wanting to breed horses. Which we do want, eventually - "
"If you want honesty, Chris," Vin cut in, because Chris was starting to babble, "I thought you guys were dating already. I mean, when I first joined the team, I thought you were a couple. You sure fight like one. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired and I stink. I'd like to head home and shower." He rose, slowly, favoring one angrily skinned knee. "You still need to settle who gets the spare bedroom, Chris. I ain't forgetting that."
And that was that. An anti-climax to what Ezra was sure had been worrying Chris and Buck for some time.
The boys drifted inside, helped clean up a bit, and it was downright weird how subdued everyone was. There were questions, some asked directly, some merely speculated among the team when Chris and Buck disappeared to change. Josiah said he should have recognized the signs. Vin was thrilled that Chris was finally getting laid, and happy not to be the only one among them who liked to drive stick. He thought that comment was pretty clever. Overall there was little shock beyond the novelty of knowing that your boss and his best friend were swapping more than war stories.
Ezra wandered into the living room looking for Chris, wanting to apologize, wanting to thank him, when he heard Buck's voice coming from the hall outside the guest bathroom.
"Yeah, I told JD. He said, 'Really? That's weird.' Then he thought it over and asked me which one of us tops. You would have been proud of the look I gave him. I told him to watch his mouth and sent him on his way. Little shit had the nerve to grin at me. I'm sure I'll get the third degree when I get back to the condo."
"I'm sure you will. This went a lot easier than I expected, I'll tell you that. It was just - I don't like that Ezra saw you like that, Buck. I don't like to think that he saw us, like that, that he could have just snuck in and out, and what might have happened if he was less of a person than he is. Me, I'm not worried about so much. But you, what could happen to your career, to you personally, if someone wanted to hurt you - "
"Chris ... Chris, hush now. Believe me, I understand. And so does Ezra."
Then there was silence but for a small hum that signaled the end of a conversation and the beginning of something else not meant for his ears.
Ezra came to his senses and walked back toward the front door. He knew he couldn't forget what he had seen, but thank God he wouldn't regret having seen it. And now he had his answer to the burning question of why Chris had been in such high spirits. Buck seemed to have that effect on people.
Ezra fidgeted with his keys a minute, deciding whether to announce his departure, when Vin came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his dirty pants. Vin stopped and smiled.
"You leavin'?"
"Yes, I had thought I ... I ... would you care to have dinner with me, Vin?"
"What, like this?"
"Well, I ... yes." Ezra discovered he meant it. "Just as you are."
Actually, dinner had never looked so good.THE END