ATF Universe
"Chris, you up for a game?" Vin Tanner strolled into the bedroom and glanced at his lover who opened one eye in response, lips curving in a sleepy smile."Game? I've always wanted to do that pirate captain and his cabin boy thing." Chris opened both eyes and sat up in bed, yawning and patting the space beside him in invitation.
Vin shook his head and sighed, doing his best impression of a martyr to the cause. He approached the bed and stared down at Chris with a mock frown. "I was talkin' about tennis. I occasionally got other things on my mind, unlike some..." His words ended in a yelp as Chris reached out and yanked him down onto the bed beside him.
"If you have other things on your mind, then I haven't been doing my job. I'll have to fix that." Chris stroked his hand down the sharpshooter's bare thigh as he spoke, his voice a feathery caress in his companion's ear.
"Chris...aint you the one who said I should expand my horizons?" Vin demanded breathlessly, trying to ward off Chris's wandering hands with only marginal success.
"Among other things." Chris slid his lips across Vin's jaw, causing the sharpshooter to shiver in response before gathering himself and firmly pushing the other man away.
"You really want to play tennis?" Chris leaned back against the pillows and eyed his companion with disfavor.
"Yep."
"It's hot out. Supposed to be ninety today."
"Heat don't bother me none. Might be different for you old folk." Vin was fast, but not quite fast enough to avoid Chris's response to that remark.
"Well, for an old guy, you still pack a helluva punch." Vin smiled ruefully as he rubbed his arm and walked over to the closet, glancing back at Chris who still lay sprawled against the pillows.
"Among other things." Chris repeated his earlier words, smirking slightly as he watched his lover rifle determinedly through the closet.
"Well, you're gonna get a chance to show off them "other things". We're playin' a game of doubles with a couple of fellas from my old unit."
"I didn't know you kept in touch with anyone from those days." There was just the barest hint of question in Chris's tone.
Vin just shrugged in response and threw a shirt in Chris's direction. "We're supposed to meet them in an hour."
"When did you learn to play tennis, anyway?" Chris demanded as he slid grudgingly out of bed. "I thought you said it was a rich kid's faggoty ass game."
"It is a rich kid's faggoty ass game. And I had a friend of mine teach me. He has to teach all them rich kids how to play for a living, so he was more than happy to lend a helping hand to one of the poor, but deserving, sort of folk."
Chris snorted. "Deserving of what. That's the question." He muttered, pulling on a pair of shorts. "We playing with this teacher of yours? Is he one of the friends from your old unit? It's been a while since I've been on the court you know." He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, not in the best of moods. Not that he was worried or anything. Chris Larabee could hold his own, yesiree. Or he hoped so, anyway. Embarrassing himself in front of his young lover wasn't his favorite way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
"Yep on all counts." Vin smiled wickedly. "Nothing like a little bit of a challenge to start the day out right."
Chris's reply was hampered slightly by a mouthful of toothpaste, but he managed to make his feelings clear enough. The sharpshooter wisely beat a hasty retreat and went to dig the tennis rackets out of the hall closet.
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Chris glanced at Vin out of the corner of his eye as they drove to the Denver swim and tennis club. What the hell had gotten into the sharpshooter? Chris had been trying to get him interested in tennis since before they had become lovers. Vin had usually just made some smart ass remark and made it clear he wasn't about to try it anytime soon. So what had changed his mind? And why the hell hadn't he told Chris about it til now?
A flicker of hurt accompanied the thought that Vin had gone to someone else to learn the game. Vin should've come to him. Why hadn't he?
Why don't you just rope him and brand him while you're at it, Larabee? Put a collar around his neck?
He didn't want to own Vin, though. Not really. He just wanted a little piece of Vin to call his own. That was all. He was too old for this dating game shit. He wanted something special. Permanent. With Vin. It was just that he was pretty sure Vin didn't want the same thing.
You went into this with your eyes open. You knew Vin was like a wild thing. You knew he might never get to the point of being saddle broke. It's why you never tell him you love him. Why you never talk about your relationship. You're afraid you might scare him off.
Chris had thought he could live with that. After all, he saw the sharpshooter every damned day at work and Vin spent a lot of nights out at the ranch. But not every night. And he'd never invited Chris to stay the night at his place. And Chris sometimes wondered where Vin was on those nights he wasn't around. He couldn't ask though. So he just tried not to think about it and tried even harder not to care. But he was beginning to think maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he couldn't live with it.
Chris snuck another glance at his companion. Vin's white t-shirt and cut offs made him look too damn sexy for Chris's peace of mind. He wasn't some horny teenager, dammit. Even if the sharpshooter sometimes made him feel like one.
I wonder if that's what he wore for his "lessons". What kind of friend is this guy, exactly? Why didn't Vin ever mention him? Was there something going on?
Oh, that's fucking terrific, Larabee. Now you're a jealous horny teenager.
Chris fought down another flicker of hurt at the image of some tanned young tennis instructor with his arms around Vin, teaching him. Touching him.
That's enough. Forget it. This ain't the time or the place to be thinking about this shit.
But why did Vin all of a sudden want to play a game of doubles?
Apparently, forgetting about it was easier said than done.
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Vin glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye. Chris was being awful quiet. And he had that look on his face. The one that said Chris Larabee was one hell of an unhappy camper. As usual, Vin didn't have a clue as to why.
Hell, he'd never been able to figure out what made Chris Larabee tick. He usually knew what Chris was thinking, but not why. He'd thought the man would be pleased as punch that Vin had finally given in and agreed to play a goddamn game of tennis. He wouldn't have done it for anyone else, but Chris was different. And Chris never asked him for anything. Didn't need him for anything, goddmamit. This was the least Vin ought to do. But sometimes he wondered why the hell didn't Chris seem to need him for anything except as a stupid partner for a stupid game?
Vin would've given in to the whole tennis thing long ago if he hadn't been so damn afraid he'd embarrass Chris in front of all his rich friends. He didn't think he could bear that. And he didn't want Chris teaching him and seeing how awkward and ignorant he was sure to be. So he'd always just put Chris off whenever he mentioned it. But then last month Vin had run into an old friend from his army days and they'd gone out and had a few drinks and one thing had led to another and before he knew it, Vin had found himself taking his friend back to his place and then found himself taking tennis lessons from the guy the following day. He'd slept with Rory a few times since, but it had been casual. Strictly sex between friends on his part. The way it always was. Except with Chris.
He wondered what Chris would say if he knew about Rory and the others. They'd never really discussed the issue of monogamy since they'd become lovers. They didn't really discuss much of anything, since they'd become lovers. Something to think about, maybe. Or maybe not.
Awww hell. Why did relationships have to be so hard? He didn't want to think about this shit. He wanted to go out and kick some ass on the tennis court. And hope that maybe one day he'd learn to be content with what he had and quit wanting all those things he didn't have and never would.
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Chris couldn't wait for this damn game to be over with. Vin's "old friends" had turned out to be tall and dark and handsome and much younger than Chris. Their names were Rory and Phillip. Bastards. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and glanced over at Vin. Wondering yet again why the hell he hadn't just talked the sharpshooter into staying at home and fucking like bunnies.
"Come on, Chris. We almost got them beat." Vin called out, catching Chris's eye.
"In your dreams, Tanner." Rory taunted good naturedly.
"Not dreams, Rory. Cold, hard facts."
Their bantering set Chris's teeth on edge. He didn't know why. He just knew it did. Phillip he was able to ignore, but every time Rory opened his mouth, Chris felt the urge to plant his fist right in the guy's face. He settled for a hard serve in that direction and was rewarded by a shout of dismay as Rory lunged for the ball and missed. Then a few seconds later, Rory dropped his racket with a grimace of pain.
"You okay?" Vin called out, frowning in concern as Rory stood rubbing his shoulder.
"I'll be fine, if Phillip will go get me some ice." He glanced at his partner as he said this and with a nod, Phillip walked off the court to go find some.
"What's wrong?" Vin walked around the net to where Rory stood.
"Just my shoulder acting up again like it did the other night. I told you that position wasn't natural. Maybe tonight you can try kissing it and seeing if that makes it feel better." Rory winked in Vin's direction, not noticing Chris, who had come up on the other side of him.
"Yeah. Why don't you do that, Vin. You can give me a staus report when you come to work on Monday. That'll give you almost two whole days to work on it. That should be plenty of time."
"Chris... you..."
Chris turned icy green eyes in Rory's direction, ignoring the sharpshooter's words. "I'd tell you a better way to take care of that shoulder, but I can't say that I really give a damn." Turning on his heel, Chris walked off the court, telling himself it was tears of rage that clouded his vision. Because he couldn't possibly be crying over a goddamned cheating son of a bitch like Vin Tanner.
"Chris, wait!" Vin caught up to the older man as he was unlocking the door to his truck, catching him by the arm and forcing him to stop.
"Let me go, Vin." Chris stared pointedly at the sharpshooter's hand.
"We gotta talk about this, Chris." Vin kept his hand where it was.
"There's nothing to talk about. Unless you can tell me I'm wrong and you didn't fuck Rory the other night." Chris didn't allow even a spark of hope to grow. He knew he wasn't wrong.
"What difference does it make? Ain't like we ever talked about being faithful. Ain't like we ever talked about anything." Vin pointed out angrily.
"No. I guess we haven't talked. Maybe we should have. But we didn't." Chris's tone was chilling. Beyond anger.
"Well, we can talk now. No time like the present."
"No."
"We can talk later, then. After we've had a chance to think things over."
"No."
"Chris..."
"No." The tone was final.
Vin slowly removed his hand from Chris's arm and backed away. No, Chris had said. N-O. No. No as in never. No as in no talking. No as in no anything. N-O No. Those two simple letters were pounding their way through his head. They must be what was causing that godawful lump in his throat and that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, too.
He watched as Chris finished unlocking the door and got into the truck. He watched as Chris drove off. Then he watched as Rory and Phiilip hesitantly approached him. He listened to Rory as he apologized. He listened to himself as he lied and said it was no big deal. Just a misunderstanding. Then he went home and listened to the emptiness that surrounded him.
He thought about a lot of things while he listened to all that emptiness. Thought about his fucked up mess of a life. Thought about the look in Chris's eyes. Thought about how playing tennis had really sucked. Maybe if he could just concentrate on that part of it and forget about the rest, it wouldn't hurt so damn much.
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