A Perfect Sentence
Mild Slash, ATF, C/V
Disclaimers: These "characters" supposedly belong to others (although I'm still not convinced they are fictional - they seem real enough to me in my head).
Comments: A slashy (well, more like slushy) epilogue to my Gen fics On My Knees and Absolutely Zero . . . for Judy, because she asked so nicely and she needs a lift. If you don't want to wade through those fics (and I wouldn't blame you), you can just read the last few pages of AZ and you'll probably figure out what's going on here.
PS: Thanks to Laramee once again for the picture!
Sunshine filtered through the blinds, and Chris winced as he stirred in his bed. He must have fallen asleep. Made him feel like an old man - napping away a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. What a waste.Sitting up with a groan, he had to admit that it was probably because he'd overdone that morning. He and Vin had raked out the stalls in the barn and he was feeling every overworked muscle.
Vin probably wasn't though. Nope. Tanner had acted fine, never once complaining, even though only six months before he'd been on death's door. Chris figured that the ten years he had on Vin made all the difference.
Yeah, Vin had been fine. In fact, he'd looked damn good. That cowboy hat he'd bought the week before was sitting kind of cockeyed on his head, his tight red t-shirt was damp with sweat, and those jeans . . .
Whoa. Hold on. What the hell was he thinking?
Chris sat up on the edge of his bed and shook his head. This was all Buck's fault. After months of enduring Wilmington's ribbing about his and Vin's relationship, it was natural that his mind would turn in other directions.
And since Vin had moved out to the ranch with him - well, technically Vin had his own apartment, even if he was rarely in it - they were together more. So of course he'd occasionally think things that were . . . unusual.
He left his bedroom, shaking off the sluggishness and his blossoming attraction to his best friend, and entered the living room. And there sat said best friend, relaxing in the recliner, his feet up and a beer in his hand.
"Hey, Chris," Vin said casually. "Hope you don't mind. I don't get this channel and I kinda wanted t' see this game."
Chris snorted. "You don't get any channels, Vin, because you refuse to pay for cable."
"That's not true. Sometimes I get CBS real clear and that's about all I watch anyway. Sunday afternoon football . . . round of golf now and then . . . that Cold Case show, that's good. Used to watch that show about people gone missing, when it wasn't on so damn late."
"Make yourself at home," Chris replied, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
He went to the kitchen then, reaching into the frig for a beer. When he turned around, he bumped smack into Vin. "How'd you get in here so fast?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
Chris had to squeeze between Vin and the counter to move out of the way so Tanner could grab another beer of his own. And damn, the man smelled good. Obviously Vin had showered while he'd been napping; his hair was still damp and he smelled like . . .
Chris groaned. What the hell was the matter with him?
"What's wrong, Chris?" Vin asked, leaning back against the opposite counter now, his legs crossed at the ankles - and exactly when did Vin start wearing tight jeans anyway?
"Nothin'," he answered, keeping his gaze glued to the floor.
"You sure? You're actin' kind of . . . funny."
"Am I?"
"Yep."
"Well maybe it's just that . . . you ever think about what they . . . you know, other people . . . what they say . . . about us?"
Vin pulled his brows together. "Other people? Who cares what other people say about us?"
"I don't care," Chris quickly jumped to his own defense. "I just wondered why . . . I mean if . . . what if there was . . . do you think there could be something to it?"
Now Vin was looking at him like he'd grown another head. But he finally replied, "Well, I reckon it's crossed my mind. Why? You think we should do something about it?"
"Like what?" Chris squeaked. Shit. He was as nervous as a damn teenager.
"I don't know. Like this maybe."
He didn't know how it happened - didn't see him coming. But all of the sudden Vin's lips were on his and oh God, he'd never dreamed this could feel so good. So right.
Chris pulled his friend closer, wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders and forcing his tongue between those magnificent lips. He groaned as he deepened the kiss, reveling in the feel and the taste that was uniquely Vin. His heart was beating so hard and his head was spinning, and he thought he might pass out and die right then and there.
But Vin suddenly pulled back. Tanner looked at him and he said, "Nope. Sorry, Chris. Don't feel it."
He walked out of the kitchen then, carrying his beer and whistling some stupid sixties song, and Chris called after him, "Vin? Vin!"
"Chris? You dreamin', Cowboy? Wake up - you're missin' out on a beautiful day."
"Wh . . . what?" Chris stammered.
"You fell asleep watchin' the game," Vin said. "And if we're gonna get a ride in before supper, we'd best be goin'."
"Oh. Yeah." Chris sat up with a groan, his hand automatically going to his lips. It felt so real . . .
"Must have been some dream," Vin said with a raised brow, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"Uh-huh," Chris muttered. Yep. Some dream.
"You were callin' my name," Vin offered, obviously hinting for some sort of explanation.
"Was I? I don't remember," Chris lied. No way in hell he was telling Vin what he was dreaming about. Tanner would either laugh his fool head off or shoot him.
Vin shrugged. "Horses are saddled. You still wanna do this?"
"Yeah. Sure," Chris replied, and damn if that vision of Vin in that hat and those tight jeans didn't pop into his head. The man looked fine sitting a horse, too . . .
"You sure you're feelin' alright, Chris?"
"I'm fine. Good. Perfect. Let's go."
Vin grinned and Chris felt weak in the knees. What the hell was wrong with him?
+ + + + + + +
It was a perfect day. Vin shucked his shoes, shirt, and jeans and climbed into bed with a satisfied sigh.
The morning was just perfect - raking out the stalls with Chris. It felt so good to work up a sweat again. After being sick and hurt for so long, he thought he'd never really feel good again. But he felt great that morning, and Chris looked . . .
Better not to think about how Chris looked . . . his hair mussed up and his black shirt clinging to his chest . . .
No, he wasn't going to think about how Chris looked all hot and . . . bothered.
He'd think about the afternoon instead, which was equally perfect. The sun was shining and there was a soft breeze during their ride. Peso was on his best behavior - much to Chris's chagrin. Larabee laughed out loud a good bit of the day, and it was music to Vin's ears. His best friend just didn't laugh often enough. Larabee's whole face lit up when he smiled and those eyes . . .
He really shouldn't be thinking about Chris's eyes, should he?
Hell, this had to be Buck's fault. Buck put ideas in his head . . . made him think about Chris . . . about him and Chris . . . about him and Chris together . . . in the same sentence . . . in the same bed.The same bed?
Vin sat up abruptly. This couldn't be good.
Could it?
He thought back on the last six months. There were so many times when Chris held him when he was sick or hurt. Vin still didn't remember all of it - especially the last ordeal that their nemesis, Ian O'Connor had put them through - but he heard how Chris was ready to risk everything for him, even his sanity.
Everybody talked about it, how him and Chris were freakishly linked, connected, joined at the hip. Maybe it was only natural that they literally be joined at the hip. Like . . . as in . . . a couple . . . a couple of men-friends who were maybe supposed to be a couple.
Vin sat for a few more minutes, scratching his head. Chris had insisted on building on the apartment for him; he'd even paid for it. He'd insisted on attaching it to his own home, too. Maybe . . .? Did Chris think . . .? What if . . .?
Well hell, there was only one way to settle this.
He figured Chris would still be awake, watching TV, but he was wrong. That made him pause for a minute, but only a minute. He was going to do this while he had the nerve.
After knocking softly on the bedroom door, he heard Chris say, "Vin? You need something?"
He needed something alright. Now that he was there, standing in the hall in only his boxers, he was suddenly, acutely aware of exactly what he needed - or rather, who he needed.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and peeked inside. Chris was sitting up in bed, reading. His bare chest glistened in the lamp light, and Vin suddenly felt self-conscious. His own chest was covered in scars, but Chris . . . well Chris was . . . perfect.
"Vin? What's wrong?" Chris asked, folding up his book and laying it on his lap.
"Nothin'. I just . . ."
"Just what? Come here. Sit down," Chris said, scooting over a bit so Vin could sit on the side of his bed.
"I just thought . . . today was . . . perfect."
Chris smiled - and Vin was glad he was sitting down because he suddenly felt weak in the knees.
"Yeah, it was a nice day. But you didn't come over here to tell me that. What's bothering you?"
"Well, it's just . . . you know . . . all that stuff that Buck says . . . or that Buck says other people say . . . you know . . . about us?"
"Yes, I know, Vin." Chris was still smiling.
"Well, did you ever think . . . that maybe we could be more? That we . . .?"
"Oh, Vin," Chris said softly. "Come here."
Before he could even grasp what was happening, he was wrapped in Chris's arms. He could feel the other man's strong hands gently caressing his back. And it felt so good, so right. How could he have doubted this? Why did he wait so long? This was where he belonged and he never, ever wanted to leave.
Chris pulled Vin's hair to one side and whispered in his ear, "I do love you, Vin."
Vin's heart was beating frantically and he was suddenly lightheaded. Chris loved him? Chris loved him!
"But not that way," Chris continued. "There's only one person who could ever share my bed, and she's dead. Now go on home."
Vin felt the air leave his lungs, and for one horrible moment, he thought Ian had come back from the dead and stuck another knife in his chest. Couldn't have hurt any worse.
The room was spinning as he quickly jumped to his feet and backed out of the door. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry . . . I . . . I . . . I didn't mean it," he said, stumbling over his feet as well as his words.
The next thing he knew he was sitting on his bed, his legs drawn up with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. The sun was just peeking through the curtains, and he knew that couldn't be right. Hadn't he just gone to bed?
No, it was daylight, so he must have just woken up.
He'd been dreaming. Sighing in relief, he sank back against the headboard. Thank God he hadn't totally humiliated himself in front of his best friend. That would be unbearable, not to mention ruining the most important friendship he'd ever had in his life.
It had felt good, though, for a few brief moments. Chris holding him . . . loving him.
But not that way. And that was a good thing - Chris not loving him that way. Of course that was a good thing. The right thing. The way things had always been . . . the way things were supposed to be. Right?
It sure felt good, though. Chris always felt good, no matter when he touched him . . . or how . . . or where.
Maybe he didn't remember everything that had happened to him over those awful months when he was under O'Connor's spell, but Chris's touch was unforgettable.
+ + + + + + +
It was nearly impossible to work, which was exactly why this new - well, maybe not new but definitely different - obsession with Vin was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Vin was bent over his desk, studying the plans for their next bust, and all Chris could think about was that damn dream.
He couldn't keep his eyes off Vin's lips. Even though it was just a dream, it felt so real - that beautiful mouth on his; that wonderful, talented tongue working its magic. He could just imagine those lips, that tongue on his chest, his stomach, working its way down his body until . . .
"Chris?"
"Huh?"
"You alright? You seem a bit . . . distracted."
Of course he was distracted. Who wouldn't be? Vin reached up to push a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and Chris noticed that his friend had his shirt sleeves rolled up. And then Vin raised his eyebrow and set that incredible blue gaze on him - and who the hell would not be distracted? But of course, he couldn't admit that to Vin, so he innocently asked, "I do?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I'm not."
Chris averted his eyes. There was only one way out of this - duck and run.
"Okay," Vin replied with a shrug.
"Okay what?"
"Okay, you're not distracted. What the hell is wrong with you, Larabee?"
"Nothing, Vin. I'm fine. Perfect." Which wasn't exactly true, but wasn't necessarily a lie, either.
"You ain't actin' fine. You're' actin' . . . weird."
Weird? Yes. That probably summed it up nicely. He was weird; everything was weird. But he replied, "Well, I'm not weird and I'm not distracted. I'm fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Yeah . . . everything was just . . . fine.
+ + + + + + +
It was getting impossible to be alone with Chris. Even when they were out in the barn, caring for the horses, all Vin could think about what that damn dream. It had felt so good - right up until Chris sliced his heart open. If he could just focus on that part of the dream instead of the part where Chris was holding him, touching him . . .
He couldn't keep his eyes off Chris's hands. Even though it was just a dream, it felt so real. Those beautiful hands pulling him close, caressing his back. He could just imagine those hands skimming every part of his body . . . his chest . . . his stomach . . . his . . .
"Vin? Did you just groan?"
"What?"
"Did you groan?"
"No!" Oh God, had he? He knew he was groaning inside - pretty much every minute of every day that he spent in Chris's presence - but so far he'd managed to be silent about it.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure, Chris. I didn't groan. I don't groan." Not out loud, anyway.
"You feel alright?"
"Hell, yes. I'm fine. Perfect." Which was not a lie - not really.
"You sure? Let me feel your head."
Vin felt the heat rise up to color his cheeks at just the very idea of those hands on his face, so he pulled back and snapped, "I said I'm fine, Larabee!"
"I think you groaned."
"I think I didn't. Let it go. I'm fine." He was so not fine, but Chris couldn't know that.
"Alright."
"Alright."
Aw, hell.
+ + + + + + +
Chris had prepared himself for the argument. Fortunately, some things were still predictable.
"Aw hell, Chris. I don't wanna go t' that."
"You say that every time, Vin. It's your turn, and you know you have to do this once a year anyway."
"Are you sure you're not . . . I mean, it seems like you just want t' . . ."
"To what?"
"Nothin'."
"Here are your plane tickets. You leave tomorrow."
Vin frowned, but he nodded.
"Vin . . . I wish . . . I mean, it's not like you think. I just . . . you just . . ."
Well damn, it was getting harder and harder to speak in complete sentences when Vin was around.
"I know," Vin answered with a sigh.
Chris sighed back. This just wasn't getting any easier. The harder he tried not to think about Vin that way, the more he thought about him exactly that way. So he had to admit, when Travis said he had to send one of his men to LA for a conference, Vin was the first one that came to his mind. It was Tanner's turn, anyway, and maybe with Vin away for a few days, Chris could figure out what had come over him - and what he was going to do about it.
He knew Vin was getting suspicious. Hell, neither one of them was acting right. Chris couldn't decide if it was because Vin was having the same kinds of feelings he was - or if the exact opposite was true. He never could hide anything from Vin, so maybe Vin suspected the truth and it made him uncomfortable.
Talking himself into a damn circle and the best thing to do, the right thing to do, would be to . . . to ignore it completely.
Yeah. That's what he'd do.
So he dropped Vin off at the airport with a casual wave, and tried his best to ignore the ache in his heart and the way Vin's mouth turned down and the way his eyes . . .
No, he wasn't going to think about those damn eyes. Chris could've sworn he'd seen real pain in those eyes, but that couldn't be right. He was sending Vin off to a convention, for God's sake, not a hanging.
He pushed that thought out of his mind as he drove home.
Home. His home. And Vin's. Home equaled Vin now. He couldn't think of one without the other, kind of like he couldn't visualize himself without Vin by his side. A twosome, a pair, a couple . . . Chris and Vin . . . in the same sentence . . . the same home . . . the same bed . . .
The same bed?
He shook his head as he unlocked his front door and headed inside. He was tired, but he didn't think he could sleep with so much on his mind, so he grabbed a beer and settled in on the couch. He'd just reached for the remote, when he heard a voice.
"You're an idiot, Larabee."
O'Connor. It had been months since the demon had paid him a visit in his dreams, but with Vin out of town, he should have expected this repeat performance.
"Tell me something I don't know, Ian," he said. Maybe the ghost could entertain him long enough to keep him from dreaming about Vin.
"He's right there in front of you. Ripe for the picking. And you're too scared to take him. Guess you don't need me to torture you after all. You're pretty damn good at doing it to yourself."
"How nice of you to be concerned about my happiness," Chris snapped.
O'Connor laughed. "I don't care about your happiness. It's your unhappiness I crave. But - as unlikely as it sounds - I do care about his."
"His? Vin's happiness? The man you knifed, drugged, bit, and God only knows what else?"
With a shrug, the ghost replied, "We all show our love in different ways."
"You never loved Vin!" Chris exploded.
The demon laughed. "I knew I could rile you yet, Larabee."
Chris mentally kicked himself for letting the illusion get to him.
"The truth is," O'Connor went on, "that you hurt him more than I ever could. As unbelievable as it to me, the fool loves you."
"Loves me? Vin?"
O'Connor only grinned wickedly and once again vanished into the night, leaving Chris to ponder his words.
Well of course Vin loved him. Just not . . . that way. He loved him in a best friend/brother/partner kind of way. Didn't he?
And he'd never hurt Vin. Never. Vin was more likely to reject him than vice versa -his dream had proven that.
Damn dream. Make that damn dreams, plural. He was dreaming, right? That entire conversation with O'Connor had to have been a dream.
With a tired sigh, Chris got up and walked to his bathroom to splash cold water on his face. No doubt about it, he was definitely awake now. But he still couldn't stop thinking about Vin.
Why? He'd never been attracted to a man in his life. But then, Vin wasn't just any man. He was his best friend, his soul mate (as much as he hated that overused expression). The man who shared his home life, his work life . . . his thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares . . . his heart . . .
Well, there it was. And laid out like that, it seemed so simple and so obvious. The only mystery was why it had taken him so long to see it. No doubt about it - he was definitely an idiot. After all, he'd almost lost Vin at O'Connor's hand more than once. And if that wasn't enough to force him to sit up and take notice, there was that moment in the barn when Vin had nearly taken his own life. Chris knew then that he couldn't live without the man, so how could he turn a blind eye to how much Vin meant to him? How many near-misses would it take? How many more chances would he get?
But would Vin see it the same way? Did Vin truly love him that way? What if he didn't? What if O'Connor was messing with his head again? What would happen to their friendship if Vin wanted nothing more than . . . friendship? Could he go on like that?
Of course he could.
No. No, he couldn't. Hell, he couldn't be in the same room with Tanner for five minutes without his mind going in all sorts of unholy directions. Lord, the man was pure temptation, and how had he not seen that before?
But more than that - far more - he loved Vin. In that way . . . in every way. And it was time he told him so. Maybe Vin would reject him - or maybe O'Connor was right. With a muttered curse, Chris reluctantly admitted that if that was the case - if Vin truly loved him - then the demented demon might have done him a big favor.
+ + + + + + +
Vin eased his aching back into the uncomfortable seat and breathed a sigh of relief. He hated conferences, he hated airports, and he hated flying. But after five long days, he was on his way home at last.
Home. For months now, home meant Chris. He couldn't separate the two - couldn't think of one without the other. But lately, Chris had been acting distant and he hadn't so much as laid a finger on him in two weeks.
Vin had always been a man who shied away from touch - or he thought so anyway. But now he felt like a man who was starving; a man who would literally sell his soul for a single moment in Larabee's arms.
"You and Larabee are far too quick to offer up your souls for one another," an icy voice said from the seat next to him.
He didn't even have to turn his head to know who was sitting next to him.
"Thought you had an agreement with Chris not t' bother me no more, Ian."
O'Connor laughed. "That's true. But maybe I'm not here to bother you; maybe I'm here to help you."
"Forgive me if I'm skeptical," Vin scoffed.
Shaking his head in obvious amusement, O'Connor marveled, "It's a wonder you and Larabee have survived as long as you have."
"Yeah, well we made it longer than you, didn't we?"
O'Connor laughed again. "Yes, but what was the point? You're both too ignorant to make it count. Or are you too afraid?"
Vin sighed. "Get to it, Ian. Why are you here? What do you want?"
"I want to rest in peace."
"In hell, maybe."
Ian ignored him. "And I might just have a shot at it if I do something right."
With a snort, Vin replied, "Uh-huh. And you think makin' me and Chris see the light is enough t' wipe out all the crap you put us through? Think again, Ian."
"He loves you - which is understandable. It's you loving him that is beyond reason."
"He doesn't love me. Least, not like that . . . not that way."
"He loves you in every way."
Vin shook his head. This was what he was reduced to? Pining away for a man - a man - he couldn't have and talking to a ghost on an airplane. "You don't know what you're talkin' about, Ian."
"Excuse me?" said the stewardess as she leaned over to offer him a drink.
"Uh . . . sorry," Vin mumbled, turning back towards the window, his ghostly visitor nowhere in sight.
Chris loved him? Yeah, right . . . in his dreams (some of them anyway).
But what if he did? What if O'Connor was right? What if Chris really did love him that way? What should he think about it? Feel about it? Do about it?
He knew what he wanted to do about it. He wanted to explore every portion of his best friend's body with his lips, his tongue, his hands - he wanted to know every inch of Chris, inside and out, in every way. Never mind that he sounded like a love-sick school girl or a sappy romance novel (not that he'd ever read one of those and not that he ever would read one), and never mind that Chris was a man. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that he loved Chris.
And if by some miracle Chris loved him, too, maybe it was time he took a chance. They'd almost lost each other so many times - how many more chances would they get to get it right? What was that Ian had said? "You're both too ignorant to make it count."
Vin inwardly groaned when it dawned on him that a dead monster just might have been right. Maybe it was time to make it count.
+ + + + + + +
Chris circled the airport seven times before he spotted Vin heading out the door near the baggage claim. He'd wanted to park the car; wanted to meet Vin at the gate like people used to do in the old days before the world went crazy . . . give him the kind of welcome home he deserved. But hell, who was he kidding? He'd be lucky if he could squeak out a full sentence once he saw Vin, let alone show him how he really felt.
He was determined to try though, which was why he'd arrived at the airport early and ended up circling the pick-up lanes repeatedly before finally catching a glimpse of his friend.
Vin saw him immediately, and nodded a greeting as he approached the truck and tossed his bag in the back seat. He opened the front door and slipped inside, tossing a sideways glance at Chris as he spoke. "Thanks for pickin' me up."
Chris swallowed and did his best to act natural. "No problem," he replied as he hit the gas and sped towards the exit. "How was your trip?"
"Fine."
"Yeah?"
"Hell, no. It was long and boring, but you don't really wanna hear that, right?" Amusement tinged his voice, but maybe there was something else there. Did Vin know he had ulterior motives in getting him out of town for the week?
Sparing a quick glance at his partner, Chris said, "Vin, we've been over this. It was-"
"My turn, I know."
Silence then as they hit the highway, and even though Chris had rehearsed a hundred times what he wanted to say, he couldn't remember a single word. How hard could it be to say, "Oh by the way, Tanner, while you were gone, I finally figured out that I love you"? Well the answer was: ridiculously hard . . . impossibly hard . . . just too damn hard.
"What the hell is the matter with me?" he muttered under his breath.
"Chris? Did you say something?"
"Hmm? Did I? I didn't . . . maybe but . . . I didn't think I did," Chris hedged as he pulled off the highway onto the two-lane road that led to his ranch.
"Oh. Well then . . . maybe it . . . maybe I just thought . . . maybe it was just . . . me," Vin stammered.
Apparently neither one of them could speak in complete sentences anymore.
Several more moments passed when Vin cleared his throat and said, "I, uh . . . on the plane . . . I had a . . . dream."
"Yeah?" Chris tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. If Vin's dreams were anything like his . . .
"Yeah. It was Ian. He-"
"What?!" Chris roared, slamming on the breaks and skidding off to the side of the road.
"Shit, Chris, take it easy!"
Shoving the gear shift to 'park', Chris turned to Vin and spat, "But . . . but . . . what the hell did he do to you? I should've known better than to trust that goddamn sonuva-"
"It's alright, Chris," Vin said soothingly with a soft touch to his arm. "He didn't threaten me, and he sure as hell didn't scare me. Really. It's alright."
"It's not alright, Vin."
"I shouldna mentioned it," Vin mumbled.
"Yes, you should have. What did he say?"
Vin swallowed nervously. "Just . . . he said that . . . nothing really . . . just . . ."
"Vin?"
"He said that," Vin swallowed again before finally turning to Chris and looking him in the eye. "He said that you . . . love me."
Chris's mouth dropped open in shock. Well if that didn't beat all. That goddamn ghost was playing matchmaker. Only he and Vin could dream up a sick, murdering bastard like O'Connor and turn him into cupid.
Chris just shook his head in amazement, prompting Vin to quickly blurt, "Stupid, huh?"
This was the moment; Vin had inadvertently given him the opening he needed. All he had to do was take the chance . . . "No, it's not," he said, holding Vin's gaze. "I do love you, Vin."
Not so hard after all.
Vin narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly or maybe he was dreaming again. "You do? You mean . . . ? I mean . . . I know you do because . . . I do, too . . . I mean . . . you're the best friend I ever had, Chris."
Chris tried hard to keep the disappointment from showing on his face as his heart plummeted to his stomach. Best friend - that's all he was to Vin. O'Connor had beaten him again simply by giving him hope, and somehow it was a thousand times more painful than any injury the demon had managed to inflict yet.
As he slowly maneuvered his truck back onto the road for home, Chris remained silent. In fact, neither man said another word until he pulled into the driveway to their home.
"I guess I'll go unload," Vin said quietly, reaching for the door handle of the truck with a deep sigh.
"Ok. I'll go make sure the horses are set for the night," Chris replied. He needed to do no such thing, having bedded down the animals long before he set off for the airport, but he couldn't bear the thought of going inside his empty house just yet.
The barn wasn't his best choice, either. He knew that as soon as he entered and struck a match to light the kerosene lamp. As the yellow glow illuminated the structure, he was greeted with the memory of Vin, hovered in the corner, aiming a pistol at his head. With a deep shudder, he pushed the image away only to be met with another: Vin holding a gun on him while Nathan picked up Ezra's gun and pointed it at Vin. So close . . . he had come so close to losing him forever twice, right there in his barn.
"Chris? You mind if I join ya?"
Startled from his thoughts, he turned abruptly to see Vin standing hesitantly at the barn door.
Hanging the lamp on a hook, Chris forced himself to answer casually, "Of course not."
Edgy and obviously uncomfortable, Vin shuffled his way over to Peso's stall.
And like a magnet, Chris was drawn to stand next to him.
Vin reached out a hand to stroke his horse as he stammered, "Chris, I . . . I need t' tell ya . . . that I . . . that you . . ." Vin trailed off with a shake of his head, his eyes plastered to the far wall.
And at just that moment, Chris knew what Vin wanted to say, needed to say. O'Connor was right after all. Deciding to spare his friend further agony, he volunteered to take the ball. "I got something I need to say, too, Vin."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."Vin turned towards him, and Chris couldn't keep his eyes off those lips. And suddenly what he needed to say was not nearly as important as what he needed to do. Once more a magnetic force seemed to tug him towards Vin, and before he could stop himself, his eyes were no longer on Vin's lips - his mouth was.
It was nothing like he'd dreamed. Their first kiss was gentle and almost chaste, and he even managed to keep his tongue in his own mouth.
But just like in his dream, Vin pulled back and looked at him . . . only this time he said, "God, Chris, I want you so bad."
And before Chris could utter a response, Vin pushed him up against the wall and attacked his mouth in a way that he hadn't dared to imagine or dream of.
Fast and furious . . . clothes off . . . blanket on the hay . . . joined at the hip, groin, mouth . . . Chris's hands and Vin's lips . . . and Vin reading Chris's mind when he groaned, "Please don't let this be a dream."
But no, definitely not a dream this time. No dream had ever felt so good, so right . . . so perfect. Freakishly, passionately, enduringly linked until both men were sated and spent; Chris rolling off Vin with a moan, Vin responding with a sigh.
"About damn time," a disembodied voice echoed amidst the sound of their harsh breathing.
"Shut up, Ian," the two men replied in unison.
Vin chuckled then, but Chris groaned, "What the hell is so funny? You really want that demented bastard spying on us for the rest of our lives?"
Shifting up one elbow, Vin replied, "We won't see him again. He did what he came for."
Chris narrowed his eyes. "What makes you say that? Surely you don't believe that his entire purpose was to bring us together?"
With a shrug, Vin answered, "Why not? Stranger things have happened."
"I don't know, Vin . . . I mean, he . . ." Chris started to argue, but Vin had resumed nuzzling his neck and then that amazing tongue started playing with his ear, and he rapidly lost his train of thought. "Where did you learn . . .? God, that feels so . . ."
Deciding that he really had better things to do than worry about Ian O'Connor, Chris pulled Vin on top of him. Slow and easy this time; savoring the feel of Vin's beautiful body joined with his and relishing every second . . . making up for lost time, making it count.
"Mmm . . . Chris . . . your hands . . . they're so . . . I love it when you . . ." Vin murmured between tantalizing Chris with his tongue.
"Yeah . . . and your mouth . . . you have a way . . . you drive me . . ." Chris trailed off. But then he added with a grin, "Shit, Vin, you think we'll ever manage a complete sentence again?"
"Long as it's you and me . . . in the same sentence . . . it is a complete sentence."
"I couldn't agree more, Vin."
Chris and Vin . . . same sentence . . . same home . . . same bed.
Perfect.
The End