Date: Thu, 13 Mar 2008 23:36:47 -0700
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking through part 48

Usual disclaimers apply (This is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between the characters and persons living or dead is purely
coincidental). No implications are made about the celebrities mentioned.
This is intended for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't
do it.

Author's Note: Head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the
latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty.  It's a great
place and I'm very grateful for all the people I've met there.  Sign up at
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew.  A special thanks
goes to both Stephen and Avy for everything that they've done for me.

A special thanks goes to everyone who's written to me from the very
beginning and to those just starting. I know that the story's taken a lot
of twists and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking
with me through it all.  As always, e-mail can be sent to
christopherrluu@gmail.com or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail
address.  AOL Instant Messenger: babyofthe1980s.  I'm on both all the time,
don't be afraid to drop me a quick message.

Apologies for another lackluster proofing.

Part LVIII

     Unseasonably warm, the strange limbo between Spring and Winter
splitting for the day, Chris jumped on the serendipitous combination of
warmth and sun with blissful ignorance.  He'd been so on top of his
deadlines, not once asking for an extension or making an excuse for his
lack of progress.  This time around, he could almost say he was done early,
the deadlines that Celeste used to keep him on track nothing more than a
passing formality.  So today was the day, he decided, that he'd fall back
into old routines, maybe letting his book slip to the back of his head
while he took advantage of everything around: sun, sand, and water.

     "Told you it would be worth your time," Chris said, tossing a towel
down next to his own.

     "So we just lay here," James asked, "and what?  Talk politics?  Stare
at one another?"

     "You relax," Chris said, "but you've got to get some sunscreen on,
you're definitely going to burn."

     "Not everyone wants to be the color of tanned leather," James said,
smirking.  Chris rolled his eyes and tossed his bottle of sunscreen at
James.  He slipped his sunglasses up into his hair as he watched James'
hands on his own skin, spreading the lotion on his arms and his legs.  His
muscles were much more subtle than Jake's, but he was definitely strong,
his body hair tinged with red, skin pale but marked with wear.  He had the
same ease and confidence that seemed to permeate Chris' circle of friends
and even though he was told that he held that same trait, he only ever saw
fleeting evidence.

     "Don't forget your shoulders," Chris said, "and your neck."
Wordlessly, James faced away from Chris and he scooted their bodies closer,
"Lie down," he suggested, and James begrudgingly followed his orders.

     His hands moved across James' skin, already warm from the sun, "I
don't want to get red," James said, voice muffled by his arms.

     "You won't," Chris assured him, hopping over to straddle him, hands
sliding across the grooves of his shoulders and back, fingers lingering and
retracing every inch.  Jake's words kept ringing in his mind, 'it's okay to
like someone...it's okay to like someone.'

     "How did you know you were in love with Jake?" James asked.  The
question seemed sudden, contrary to most of the things Chris knew--or
thought he knew--about James.  "Jonas was telling me about he and Topher,
sounded sweet."

      "Me and Jake are...were different," Chris said, sitting back on his
haunches to look at James, stretched out below him, freckles on his
shoulders, skin milky and smooth, muscles lean and solid.

     "Different how?" James asked, flipping onto his back.

     "In every way.  We didn't fall in love like everyone else does.  It
was fast, really rushed.  We couldn't stop.  Just...it was fast and we were
in so deep before we even realized."

     "I didn't ask how it sped along, how did you know it was right?"

     Chris sat down on his towel, lying on his back before he let out a
long sigh, "Why?"

     "Jonas was saying all these thing, how he felt stupid and lightheaded,
needy and disconnected from his own body.  Tell me he's joking.  He's not a
wordsmith like yourself."

     "You feel...I don't know, awkward and flustered, your stomach feels
all queasy and you don't know what to say.  But then that part's over and
you feel just...it's good and reliable, it's something you think about all
the time and something you don't ever think about.  It's the greatest thing
in the world, love is."

     "Sounds like more trouble than it's worth," James insisted, "awkward
and flustered, that's how I presumed you were when we met."

     "It was nerves," Chris said, "meeting new people isn't my thing.  I
keep my circle small."

     James only nodded and Chris didn't say anything for a long time,
turning over onto his stomach, flipping through his copy of Vanity Fair,
pretending to be engrossed in the news on its pages, wondering what it was
about James that had gotten under his skin.  He was attractive, but the
city was full of guys that were better looking, he was smart, he was funny,
he could talk.  The list kept going, but nothing stood out at all.  It was
nothing special at all, but the way they came together, half of this, some
of that, more of something else, it all combined in such a way that Chris
couldn't stop thinking about him, writing about someone like him, wondering
why and how.  His writing was like that, some critic said, passing over the
who, what, where, and when, instead concentrating, almost obsessively
dwelling, on the how and the why.

     "I think we're done," James said, stretching, "it's been over an
hour."

     Chris didn't have his watch or his phone to confirm James'
observation, but he just nodded.  He could have been there all day, like
those lazy days he and Jake would spend on the beach doing nothing at all
in the middle of summer.  Chris groaned as he got up, the smell of sun on
his skin still, something he knew only someone that grew up on the beach
could describe, some surreal mix of sand, salt, water, and heat.  "I just
have to rinse off and we can get some coffee or something."

     "What about one of those smoothies you California boys are all about?"

     "Whatever you want," Chris said, the both of them gathering their
things, "damn, I miss summer."

     "I can see how you could get used to this," James said, "but I never
could.  I'd never get anything done.  We don't have the sun in Scotland.
We have rain."

     Getting under the spray, Chris shivered as the cold water splashed
down onto him.  Even though they didn't get in the ocean, the showers sent
the sweat and sand from their bodies.  Chris could feel James' eyes on him,
unabashed staring as Chris' fingers combed through his hair, "Don't even
try, the shorts are lined," Chris said, eyes still closed.  His white
shorts were clinging to his skin, the water spilling down his body.

     "It's just hard to see," James said, not denying the fact he'd been
stealing glances.  Chris body showed the lines of someone who'd lived near
the ocean their whole life, muscles long where others' were bulky, his skin
was smooth and tan, like he'd just gotten back from some tropical vacation,
but the truth was that Chris' tan never faded, in winter when everyone else
was pale and cold, Chris--and Jake too--managed to keep looking brown.

     Chris just shook his head, the water turning off just as the drops
flew from his wet hair.  He wrapped his towel around his waist and heading
back to the house, leaving James under the harsh spray of the beach shower.

     "I didn't meant to stare," James said when he caught up, "and this was
your idea.  I personally find this magnolia complexion quite attractive."

     "It's not about getting tan, it's just about looking like you get out
of the house."

     "You look plenty brown," James said, "whether you get out of the house
or not, I don't think that has much to do with it."

     "There's nothing wrong with a little flirting, James, but sometimes
you have to just turn it off.  I just wanted to hang out," Chris said,
patting Atticus on the head as he walked by.

     "I'm being such a twit, but Christopher, something about your
creativity and your ease, it's strangely alluring."

     Chris pretended not to hear, reaching into the refrigerator for
nothing in particular, "We should get dressed if we're going out."

     "Did Jonas ever tell you the story about how we used to practice
kissing?"

     "No, he didn't," Chris said, "because he and I are friends and things
like that don't get said."

     "Not without a few pints, I suppose," James said, laughing softly,
"well, the thing is..."

     "That wasn't an invitation, James.  I don't want to be rude, but we're
just friends, too.  I don't know if I was clear, but Jake and I are very
exclusive.  I like you, and that's the truth.  But that doesn't mean that
anything happens."

     "Well that's quite unfortunate," James said, "it's a good story."

     "I'll tell you a story," Chris started, "I don't remember who told me
or where I read it, I think it might have even been at the dentists' office
or something, but it said that you shouldn't be around people if you can
think of three specific reasons not to."

     "To what?  That's a dangling..."

     "Not to be with them.  I changed it, you shouldn't be with a person if
you can think of three reasons not to."

     "What does that have to do with us?"

     "I don't like that you don't know what boundaries are.  I don't like
that you think you're so charming and smart and smooth.  I definitely don't
like that you are so observant about everyone and so ignorant about
yourself."

     James had stepped closer and closer with every word, both of them
still damp, skin still hot, their eyes locking just as Chris finished,
"Well that's definitely three," James said softly.

     "That's enough," Chris said, shaking his head, "why don't you put a
shirt on and sod off?"

     "'Sod off?'" James asked, chucking as his eyebrow raised, "is that so,
Christopher?"

     "Yes, James, it is so."

     "I don't think you mean all that," James said, a slick smile playing
on his lips, "I think part of you likes the attention."

     "I get enough attention," Chris said, sliding out from between James
and the refrigerator, "I don't need any more from you."

     "You want to kiss me," James said, "and more, even.  I can see it,
feel you thinking about it."

     Chris swallowed, "I won't do that to Jake."  His voice was quiet and
low, "I would never do that to him."

     "He doesn't have to know."

     "I think he already does.  He's got eyes.  He's not stupid," Chris
said, his eyes shutting as he bit his lip.  He could feel James right
there, their bodies close, their breathing deep and even, Chris' heart
beating faster than he could handle.  James halved the distance between
them, halved it again, their knees brushing and James' hand on Chris'
shoulder.

     "There's no harm in it," James assured him.

     "You've got to be joking," Chris whispered, "it's all harm."

     'It's okay to like someone,' rang in Chris' head again and again,
images of Jake's sincere face as he said it, his blue eyes shining, all of
that mixing with Chris' immediate and continuing confusion.  He hated that
Jake was so vague, so counterintuitive.  Why would it be okay?  Why would
Jake be okay with it?  Chris felt lightheaded, James' close proximity doing
nothing to ease it.

     Chris held himself steady against James, shaking slightly as their
bodies pressed together.  James was still, statuesque in his steadfastness.
Chris pressed their foreheads together, breathing slowly as his hands ran
down James' arms, their noses brushed and Chris felt James' hands run down
his bare back.  "I want to kiss you, to...feel you," Chris said softly, his
voice barely above a whisper, "but I won't.  I can't...I have Jake."

     "It's alright," James said.

     "It's not, definitely not alright," Chris said, finally pulling away.
He looked up at James, "I think it'd be a good idea if we called it a day,
I have to write and...write and make some phone calls."

     "Then I'll leave you to it," James said.

     Chris' hand brushed through his own hair, his palm coming to rest on
his forehead as he and James looked at each other, eyes locked, their
breathing low and even, the kitchen quiet and still.  Chris took one deep
breath, turned on his heels, and headed out, James' fingers catching his on
a backswing.  Chris felt himself freeze for the tiniest fraction of a
second, everything rushing at him right then, how close he was to being
done with his book, how confused he'd been, how everything was going so
fast around him, and he kept walking, James connected at his fingertips,
staying on the furthest edges of Chris' mind and body.

     "Christopher," James said softly, his voice dropping as they stepped
wordlessly up the stairs, bypassing the bedroom entirely, Chris leading him
into another room, strewn with papers and notes, a laptop idling on the
desk, the windows overlooking crashing waves, "Christopher," he said again,
but Chris only pressed their foreheads together, his eyes shutting as his
hands ran down the sides of James' face, his breathing slow, almost
hesitant, shaking.  Slowly, his hands traveled down to James' neck, his
shoulders, James' own shaking suddenly, coming to rest on the grooves of
Chris' hipbones.

     James opened his mouth the tiniest bit, and Chris had pressed their
lips together, kissing him softly, gently exploring his lips and his mouth,
sighing softly at the rough scratch of his stubble, their bodies moving
together slowly, cautious and tentative, their chests pressing together,
Chris' skin shooting through with tingles and rising with goosebumps as
their nipples rubbed together, the hairs on James' chest against him.
James leaned in closer, Chris' hands skimming his sides, fingers deftly
pulling at the drawstring to his shorts, the sound of velcro ripping
through the room, James' half-hard cock pressing against Chris' palm, their
mouths hungrier, James pushing Chris down.

     He shook his head, feeling James' hands pushing his shorts down.  They
caught on his hips and Chris pulled at them, both of them groaning as their
naked bodies pressed together.  Chris' head spun, Jake's voice resounding
in his head, his body and his mind craving the new sensation, the brand new
feel and the smell, the taste and the sound.  Chris stroked James' cock
slowly, steadily spreading pre-cum down the shaft.  James pushed him up
against his own desk and he hoisted himself up onto it, legs spread as
James stepped into him, their cocks coming together with a groan, Chris'
hand wrapped around the both of them, stroking together, grunting as James
kissed him even deeper, his body arching into every touch, James' hands
running up and down his back.

     "James," Chris whispered, his voice muffled by James' mouth, "that's
enough now."  He said it because he had to, couldn't do it without
justifying to himself that it was wrong, that he tried to stop it at the
worst time, right when things were falling into gravity.

     Chris' hand betrayed him though, continuing to stroke the two of them,
their hot cocks rubbing together, shiny, slick pre-cum dripping down their
shafts, Chris groaning as James pressed their bodies chest-to-chest,
thrusting his cock hard into Chris' fist.

     "Can't," James grunted, his head shaking furiously.  He grabbed Chris'
hand in his and continued the stroking, kept slipping his tongue into
Chris' mouth.  It hadn't been planned this way, there was the wrong mix of
emotion, the wrong combination of circumstances, but here he was, Chris'
cock sliding against his, both of them rushing to orgasm, Chris' breathing
quick and shallow, his body tensing and his mouth shaky.  James held him
steady, letting Chris' hand take over the stroking.  Fisting their cocks
together, Chris threw his head back as he felt the first wave of orgasm
shoot through him.  Grunting, he shot, thick hot cum splattering onto his
stomach, James' load not far behind, loud groans filling the office as he
gasped and spilled his cum.  Chris was shaking, James still trying to ride
the high, both of them struggling to breathe.

     "Shit," Chris said, still not moving.  His eyes grew wide and he
glanced around the room, it was all real now, the reality slamming into
him.  He could hardly breathe.  He pushed his hand through his hair and
looked at James, intensity only slightly marred with fatigue.

     "Nobody has to know," James blurted out, taking a step backwards.
Chris looked down at his cock, back at his own stomach.  He shut his eyes
and cringed.

     "Wake up, wake up," Chris said softly, blinking quickly.  He ran his
hand down his stomach, felt the warm cum on his fingers.  His eyes shot to
James, still standing there, flush, a sheen of dewy sweat on his chest.
"What's wrong with me?"

     "Christopher, I didn't mean for this to happen."

     Chris looked at him earnestly, words failing him for once.  He took a
breath, ready to say something, but it faltered and he just walked past
James into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.  After he'd
showered, he walked slowly through the house only to find it empty.
Shaking his head, he grabbed threw the back door open and ran to the beach,
the cooling sand kicking up behind his steps.

***

     Jake nuzzled his nose into Chris' neck, "Still working?  I thought I
was the one pulling eighteen hour days."

     Chris gave him a weak smile and sighed, "I just have to get this part
written."

     "You focusing?" Jake asked playfully, his hands running down Chris'
arms, "you have to focus, remember?"

     "I'm distracted," Chris said, "can't write with you over my shoulder."
He turned towards Jake and pressed their noses together, "Not that I'm
complaining.  Celeste said she was still working on your case."

     "I don't want to talk about that," Jake said, "he doesn't deserve my
time."

     "I don't either," Chris whispered, "not paying you any attention.
I've been bad."

     "I've seen that lug Jonas more than I've seen you," Jake said, kissing
Chris softly, "there's definitely something wrong with that."

     "Let...just have to get this part done," Chris said, but he didn't
resist Jake's probing tongue, didn't protest when Jake shut his computer
softly.

     "Come to bed," Jake whispered, "I miss you."

     Chris nodded, let Jake lead him out of his office, "Jake, you're
almost done, right?"

     "You are, you've been saying you are for a few days."

     "I've never written a book this fast.  A book, that isn't stories," he
said, stopping them in the hallway, "and it's not like the others.  So much
was going on and this whole focus thing, all the changes..."

     Jake silenced him with a kiss, didn't want their only conversation in
the past few days to be about work.  He'd hardly seen Chris, they slept in
the same bed and felt each other, lay with each other, but their lives were
separate during the day, both of their bodies drained, fatigued.

     "I've missed you," Jake said, "miss feeling you."  He held Chris
tight, kissing him softly, feeling Chris' hands on his back, some stiffness
draining from their bodies.  It was comfortable and familiar, sending
ripples of relief down through Chris' body.  Since it had happened, he
hated that whenever he closed his eyes, his mind would wander to James'
lips, to the way their bodies felt, rough and unsure, strong and rough; but
things with Jake were so easy and so amazing, new and old at the same time,
surprising and expected.  It was something he'd never had, something he
knew he'd never find again if he lost it.

     "I missed you too," Chris said, groaning as Jake kissed his neck.  He
made a sound that sounded like a purr, low in his throat, the vibrations
shaking his chest as Jake pressed him against the wall.  "I have to talk to
you."

     "I'm not in the mood to talk," Jake said, his voice husky.

     "It's serious."

     "I don't want serious right now," Jake insisted.  Chris stiffened for
a second, but Jake's body was frantic against his, his hands desperately
pulling at Chris' shirt.  It was over his head in a second, Jake's
breathing hard and deep.  "Take off your clothes."

     Chris quickly undid his pants, pushing them to the floor along with
his underwear, kicking the clothes to the side as Jake kissed him again.
Chris' hands yanked at Jake's shirt, clumsily reaching underneath to feel
warm skin, coarse hair, strong muscle.

***

     "You did the same thing," James insisted, his voice almost pleading.

     "I didn't," Jonas said stiffening, "I honestly wanted to be their
friends.  None of this shit you're playing."  He leaned forward, "They're
good people.  You don't do this to good people, people who have done
nothing but welcome you."

     "Don't be so naive, so daft," James said, "if you're going to make it
here in America, there's no easier way than to get in with its sweethearts.
They love Jake here, love Chris back at home and here, they're just a nice
package."

     "That's wrong, wrong and I can't believe I hear it coming from you."

     "Success comes when you take advantage of what you're given," James
said, "plain and simple."

     "I couldn't disagree with you more, friend," Jonas said, "especially
if you're going to stay in this line of work.  You can't have anyone on
your bad side, you don't know who they know."

     "Sounds like you've gotten soft," James said, "where is the bloke who
slept with the casting director to get his part in MacBeth?  What happened
to you?"

     "I grew up," Jonas said, "learned dignity and respect."

     "Don't come off so high and mighty, Jonas.  You told me yourself you
wanted to sleep with him."

     "Wanting it and actually doing it are different," Jonas said, words
strong, "I saw how he reacted when I kissed him, he was mortified.  And you
know what he did?  He wasn't angry, wasn't irrational, he knew I was
screwed up in the head, that I was scared."

    "And what would you do, what would you have done," James interjected,
"if he came on to you?  If he had the initiative, if he instigated?"

     "He wouldn't.  He's got a will of iron.  Loves his husband."

     James raised an eyebrow, snickering, "I think you wore him down, I see
how he looks at you."

     "We all see how he looks at you," Jonas quipped back, "don't know why,
for the life of me."

     Silently, James just stared at his hands, glancing up to examine
Jonas' expression, his features darkening, anger rising up his neck with
every passing moment.

     "You're not telling me something," Jonas said, his voice low.

     James sat back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest, "I'm
not telling you anything."

***

     "Who has tapes anymore?" Wes asked, "do you need to keep this?"

     Jake glanced at it, "That's...yeah, we have to keep that."

     "Why?" Chris asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

     "It's our copy of Maggie's birthing video...we don't watch it."

     "Do we need this chair?" Jake asked, pulling a wire-framed chair out
into the middle of the garage.

     "A studio gave that to me.  Where's the other one?"

     "In my office.  Under some shit."

     "Should we keep it?"

     Chris shrugged, "What are we going to do with it?"

     Jake rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt up, "Wes, see why we have so
much junk?  Chris and me, neither of us know what to do with things."

     "You should definitely get rid of all that stuff," Wes said, pointing
to a stack of unmarked boxes, "if you haven't used that stuff, you're not
going to."

     "There you go being all realistic and logical," Jake said as he opened
one up.  Junk, plain and simple, nothing but old pots and pans, old CDs,
nothing they'd ever use.

     "Toss it," Chris insisted, sighing.  He'd kept busy the whole weekend,
never letting his mind focus on anything but the task at hand, no matter
how mundane.  He'd cleaned their closet, ironed all their clothes, gave the
dogs a bath, did any and every chore he could think of.  Jake owed it to
the warming weather, Spring cleaning gone to the next level, but just like
Chris got completely absorbed in his writing, he could get completely
absorbed in something as insipid as housework.

     "Think one of the cars will actually fit in here when we're done?"
Jake asked, shaking his head as he smiled, his arms flexing as he hauled a
box to the curb.  Chris watched as he pulled his shirt off entirely,
shoving it in his back pocket, the fabric dangling behind him as he walked
back up the driveway, "What are you doing here on a weekend anyway, Wes?
We're working you too hard."

      "He has the whole week off," Chris said, sending a glance his way, "I
don't know how we'll survive."

      "You won't even notice," Wes said as he rolled his eyes.  He
re-stacked a few boxes and the three of them surveyed the newly emptied
garage, "You might actually fit the car in here."

     "We've never had a car in any of our garages before," Chris said.
Jake threw his arm over Chris' shoulders and Chris' hand traced his stomach
muscles without even thinking about it, he leaned against Jake and nodded,
"Weird, the driveway will look all lopsided."

     "You guys have an extra TV in here," Wes said.

     "It's really old," Jake said without looking, "we've got to get rid of
that thing."  Their lives were in their house, everything they'd collected,
upgraded, the remnants of their lives in haphazard storage: Chris' junk,
Jake's junk, their junk.  "Let's get inside, it's getting so damn hot."

     Wes hit the button and the three of them walked into the house, the
hum of the garage motor fading as they headed towards the kitchen.  "I like
those roses," Wes said, his hands instinctively reaching to sort the messy
stack of mail on the island.

     "What?" Chris asked, tossing him a bottle of water.

     "These," Wes motioned to the vase, "they're tea roses."

     "How do you know that?  Mom gave them to us," Jake said, "they smell
nice, give some to your girl."

     "I think...I think I need to take a shower.  I'm gross.  Wes, as soon
as you get me a copy of everything I have to do this week, I think you're
allowed to go on vacation."

     "I'll just leave it on your desk," Wes said, "I'll see you next week."

      Jake listened as the familiar sound of Chris bounding up the stairs
filled the house before the softer noise of the shower replaced it.

     "Chris doesn't seem a little weird to you, does he?" Jake asked Wes,
who--as far as Jake knew--had been with Chris most of the time when Jake
had been at work.  Even if Chris wasn't writing, Wes was over at the house,
they'd be looking over passages, coming up with new ideas, doing phone
interviews, and going over schedules, but it seemed to Jake that maybe that
had gotten pushed aside.  He was almost embarrassed to be asking, if anyone
could see a change, it should have been him.  But admittedly, he'd been out
of the picture for a good part of the last few weeks.

     "I don't know, he's just really into this book, he's got a lot riding
on it.  He's got expectations to meet from a bunch of different people."

     Nodding, Jake scratched the back of his head, "It's not how he usually
gets.  I was used to the late night writing; he'd fall asleep at the
computer.  I wasn't expecting this half distracted stuff he's been doing.
It's different.  Chris isn't someone who really changes up a routine."

     "I don't think that...I don't know, he's sort of frazzled."

     "I should take him somewhere.  We could use a break, something quick."

     "Do you want me to look at some things?  I could make some calls, see
if there's the usual in San Francisco?  New York?"

     "No, you get to doing what you have to, I'll figure it out."

     "You're always looking out for him," Wes noted, "seems like he's got a
good team on his side."

     "We need some time to ourselves, me and him, it's too crowded here
sometimes with the guys and work.  Sometimes, I think we just need to run
away."

***

     "I have a deadline," Chris said, groaning as Jake's lips kissed his
Adam's apple, "I want to, I definitely want to."

     "I moved things around," Jake said, voice bordering on a whine,
"post-production, press shit, come on."

     Chris pulled Jake up and kissed his lips softly, "Let me see what I
can do.  I thought our schedules were supposed to sync up."

     Sighing, Jake rested his head on Chris' shoulder; half-defeated, he
closed his eyes and let the feeling of Chris' fingers on his back ripple
through his body.  "I wanted to be spontaneous," Jake said, "like we used
to be."

     "Sorry," Chris whispered, kissing his nose, "I didn't know I'd be so
swamped.  I really am almost done, just a little more and I'll have time."

     "No you won't," Jake said, letting his grip on Chris' body loosen, "I
know the drill.  We've been through it enough times."

     His eyes jumped up to meet Chris', saw them looking back at him
intently, "If we go somewhere, it can't be far.  We have to be back
Sunday."

     "It's Thursday night," Jake said, perking just a little, "and what are
they going to do?  Drop you if you miss a deadline?"

     "Don't joke about that," Chris said, "it's not impossible."

     "Yeah it is," Jake said, "but how about this: I will get everything
together.  You write.  I'll pack, I'll plan, you just be ready to leave
when I say so."

     "How will I know when you say?"

     "You just have to be ready," Jake said, a smug smile on his lips,
"that's what being spontaneous is all about.  I'll take care of
everything."

     Chris nodded, hiding his reluctance, "Whatever you say, I'm there."

     Jake watched Chris sit up, straightening himself as he typed, his
expression intense almost right away, he'd gotten into his place, his ideas
taking over.  Jake wasn't sure if Chris realized how serious he'd been, but
that was part of the appeal.  Catching Chris off guard, sweeping him off
his feet and taking him away from this existence of deadlines and editors,
somewhere they could just get lost in each other and in their newfound
surroundings.

     An hour later, Chris had typed forty more pages, his contacts dry on
his eyes, his whole body weary.  His head shot to the door when he saw
Jake, his arms flexed as he carried two bags past his office, not bothering
to stop and explain, Chris was so tired that he wasn't sure if he'd
imagined it or not, until the sound of Jake's shoes on the stairs echoed
through the house.

     "Open apple-S," Jake yelled.

     It was real.  Chris bounded out of his chair.  "What, what?  Where are
we going?" he asked.

     "Did you save?" Jake asked, looking up at Chris from the bottom of the
stairs, a black sweater and dark jeans, the same ones he wore when they'd
go to the airport.

     "Wait," Chris asked nervously, "where are we going?  You packed?"

     "I can pack," Jake said, "I did it before we met.  You ready?"

     "Yeah," Chris said hesitantly, "just let me wash my face."

     "The shuttle is going to be here in ten minutes," Jake said, the
accomplishment and pride showing on his face.  "This is for real, I took
care of everything."

     "Where are we going?  You didn't answer me."

     "Go," Jake said.

     Chris ran his fingers through his hair and gave Jake a weak smile,
"You're too much sometimes.  Really."

     "Go," Jake insisted, "ten minutes."

     Ten minutes and a plane ride later, Chris and Jake had hopped over the
California border and Chris could not believe that he and Jake had never
gone to Vegas together.  Not that either of them frequented a city that was
overrun with wasted twenty-one year old kids celebrating their birthdays
and first binges or older tourists. Strangely enough, Chris never thought
they'd ever come here.  It was cheesy, way too over the top, and neither of
them played cards.

     "Last minute means last minute," Jake said as they shimmied into a
limousine the hotel had sent, "I know it's a little strange, but..." he
scooted closer to Chris, his hands already running over Chris' thigh, his
lips on Chris' neck, "we don't really have to leave our suite."

     Chris smiled, leaning into Jake's body, his fingers tracing Jake's
waist, slipping up under his shirt as their lips came together.  He pushed
up hard against Jake's body, the bounty of space in the limo surprising as
he crawled up onto Jake, straddling his thighs as he deepened the kiss.
"This better be worth it," Chris said, "taking me to this wasteland."

     "You wrote about it," Jake whispered, his hands running up Chris'
back, "I'm going to show you the whole world in two days."  He kissed Chris
hard, their bodies grinding together, "Or I'm just going to keep you in
bed."

     "Win-win," Chris said, gasping as Jake reached into his pants.  Chris
pushed his hand away and pressed his hands hard against Jake's shoulders,
knocking him back against the car's seat, "I'm Vegas already."

     "Looks like I'm winning," Jake said, smiling as Chris unzipped his
pants, his lips coming down to Jake's neck, fingers pressing hard against
the muscles of Jake's stomach now, Jake's hands pushing his pants lower.
The car sped along, the Strip coming closer and closer as Jake threw his
head back, Chris' mouth opening wide, his throat following suit, inch after
inch of Jake's cock sliding into the warm, slick confines of Chris' mouth.
Groaning, his fingers gripped Chris' hair, his hips thrusting slowly in and
out, Chris' fingers on his balls, the bumps in the road sending his dick
inadvertently into Chris' throat, Chris' muffled grunts and the sounds of
his wet slurps and licks mixing with the grunts of pleasure coming from
deep in Jake's throat.

     "Shit," Chris groaned, stroking Jake as he licked at Jake's slit,
drops of pre-cum already sliding over his tongue.  He closed his eyes and
dove down again, taking Jake in deep, felt Jake's fingers tight on his
scalp.  He heard Jake gasp as he went up and down, Jake's hips rising and
falling more eagerly now, speed quickening and his hands more insistent.

     Jake threw his head back, his neck tight and his arms tense as he slid
his cock in and out of Chris' mouth and throat, warm and tight, hot and wet
on every inch of his dick.  Slowly he pulled out, struggling to keep his
eyes open to watch his slick cock slide in and out of Chris' mouth.  It was
fast and sudden, his orgasm rushing as he tried to hold it back.  Chris'
hand was on his balls now, pulling at them softly, his lips on them a
second later.  Chris knew what to do to get him off, he suddenly saw, knew
how to draw it out and knew exactly how to pull an orgasm out of him
quicker than anything.

     "Slow down," Jake groaned, "we've still got..." his words disappeared
as Chris groaned around his cock, a shudder bolting up his back.  Chris
didn't want to slow down, his eyes shutting as he took Jake in deep, there
was nothing he could do to stop.  Jake's cock slid in his throat and he
felt like he'd shoot in his own pants.

     Chris felt Jake's body go stiff, his hands holding him down, his own
throat gagging slightly as Jake's cock pumped straight down his throat.
His breathing was shallow and fast, the back of the limo suddenly stifling
hot as Chris swallowed his cum, falling back on his haunches as he caught
his own breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

     "Viva Las Vegas," Chris said, grinning, "I like it here already."

     "Fuck, me too," Jake said, smiling, his eyes half-lidded.

     "When do I get my turn?" Chris asked, his tongue coming out to lick
his lips.

     Before he could even react, Jake was on top of Chris, lips crashing
together, hands hungry for the warmth of bare skin.  It didn't matter how
hot the desert was outside, there in the limo, it was hotter.

***

     "Why did you pack those suits?" Chris asked, sighing as he shut the
door to their walk-in closet.  The hotel suite was almost as big as their
actual house, their floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garish neon of
the Strip, a huge flaming faux volcano, a pirate ship not so far from that,
and even further down, more iconic world landmarks, real or fictional, it
started to blur in everyone's mind, watered down for tourists, designed to
excite.  The suit that Jake packed for him was, by far, his favorite.  He
wore it the most, felt comfortable in it, thought it made him look like he
actually belonged in GQ.

     Jake's hands ran up Chris' arms, his stubbled chin resting on Chris'
shoulder, "And that's the catch.  We have an event tomorrow."

     Chris turned around, his eyebrows raised, "Are you serious?  Is that
why Celeste didn't mind me missing this deadline?"

     "That might have something to do with it," Jake admitted, "you and I,
Christopher Lewis plus guest, will be attending the very prestigious very
cool very star-studded Independent Spirit Awards."

     "You're not kidding."

     "Hey, James is going to be there, he's getting some award, maybe
you'll get to give it to him.  Celeste said something about it," Jake did
his best to make it sound like less of a chore, but the more he said, the
worse it seemed to get.

     "I have to give someone something?" Chris asked, his eyes growing
wide, "are you giving someone something?"

     Jake shook his head meekly, "It's half an hour at the most, smile for
some pictures, read off the teleprompter, you're done.  We're out of there
before you know it."

     "I can't believe you did this," Chris said, "you know I hate doing
things like this.  This is your job, not mine."

     "It's our job," Jake said, "we're both part of this industry."

     Chris sighed, "Well, what am I supposed to say to that?  The swag bag
better be fucking awesome."

     "I got us out of town, didn't I?  This is a nice change to seeing each
other only three or four hours a day, half-asleep."

     "Don't exaggerate, that was just a few times," Chris said, leaning
against the closet door, "what time do we have to go to this fucking indie
soiree?"

     "You won one, time to give back.  There'll be snacks there, I'm sure."

     "I won one because they made up a category for me that year, don't
forget that," Chris said.

     Jake only shook his head, pressing their bodies together, lips coming
next.  He could feel Chris relax just slightly.  "I think you're amazing,"
Jake whispered.

     Chris kissed him back, pulling away before they both got breathless.
"Did you bring our shoes?"

      "I can pack," Jake said, smiling.  He kissed Chris again, pushing the
worries and the nervousness out with a slide of his tongue.

     "I hate you," Chris whispered as his hand slid up Jake's chest to rest
on his shoulders.  He deepened the kiss, moaning softly as their bodies
came closer.  Right then, Chris wasn't sure if his words were really just a
joke or for real.

***

     "My standing on this stage shows that determination, sheer bravery,
and the right mix of imagination and inspiration can come together to make
something really special.  Tonight, we honor an actor whose portrayal of
love and heartache spanned not only months and years, but miles, war and
lies, deceit and naivety.  For his flawless portrayal of Robbie Turner in
Joe Wright's cinematic depiction of Ian McEwan's modern love story,
Atonement, I am honored to present this Independent Spirit Award to a
gentleman I greatly admire, Mr. James McAvoy."  Chris clapped and looked
around, waiting to see where James would come from and suddenly, like he'd
just appeared, he was bounding up the steps to the stage, Chris' breath
catching as he saw James in his tuxedo, hair combed back, scruffy ginger
beard neatly trimmed.  The statuette nearly fell from his hands, but James
pulled him into a hug, still not taking the award from Chris' shaking hand.

     "You look good," James said, "and I haven't told anyone, won't ever."

     "Congratulations," Chris whispered into his ear, his voice suddenly
shaky.  He didn't know what else to add, so he folded his hands and took a
few steps back, sighing with relief as the spotlight shone on someone else.

     "Lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I am humbled with this award, knowing
that Atonement was far from independent in scope and budget.  I appreciate
wholeheartedly being recognized in a role that I put my entire person into,
especially from such a respected American writer, whose own films and books
I admire.  I thank you and again, I take this award and the spirit it
stands for with great pride."

     Chris followed a few steps behind James into the pressroom, ready to
walk right past him, but he grabbed Chris' wrist, puling him back beside
him in front of the microphone, "Any questions for me or Christopher Lewis
here?"

     "Chris, how does it feel?  You were here a while ago, said that the
award really brought your work to a new audience," one reporter asked.

     "I feel nauseous," Chris said, eliciting a wave of laughter from the
reporters.  He left it at that, letting everyone interpret it the way they
wanted.

     "I feel fantastic," James said, "nothing is more exciting than
receiving an award from one's peers, a friend at that.  Knowing that I am
in the company of such great artists from every discipline is just great."
Chris kept the smile on his face, even with James inching closer to him,
his hand resting on Chris' shoulder as he spoke.

     "Jake is waiting for me," Jake whispered into James' ear.

     "We have time for more questions," James said.  Chris punched him in
the arm playfully.

     "What can we expect from your new novel?" someone else asked.

     Chris was taken aback as James leaned the microphone in his direction,
"It's a departure from things I've written before," Chris said, "it's about
remembering and forgetting.  It's a little surreal, a little postmodern, my
usual thing with a new spin."

     "You should be more specific," James said, "these people want to know,
Christopher Lewis."

     It was getting harder and harder to keep the smile on his face, but
Chris persevered, "It's about a guy who loses his memory.  He can't
remember anything except the books he's read, so he's basically a
bibliophile that fishes through literature to find himself again."

     "Heady, to say the least, which is definitely not surprising," James
said, "I can't wait."

     "Are you a fan?" a reporter blurted out, her voice almost lost in the
murmur of the room.

     "Always," James said, "have been since the very first line of his
first book, 'Kent's earliest memory was knowing that he didn't belong.'"

     Chris blinked quickly and looked over at him, surprise and confusion
marking his features, "I um...wow.  I think we should get going," he
stuttered.  He turned to the reporters, "Thank you for your time."  He got
off the stage as soon as he could, his steps fast and his strides long.

     "Wait," James asked, trotting behind him.

     "I'm keeping someone waiting," Chris said, "Jake and I are getting out
of here.  Congratulations on the award."  His steps didn't slow.  He and
Jake had arranged to meet, and he hated keeping Jake waiting.  They were
both perpetually ten minutes late, but not with each other, not ever.

     "Where are you staying?  We should meet up, the three of us."

     Chris turned on his heels, "James, why would we do that?  Jake and I
were supposed to be here to get away from things that stressed us out.  And
you, James, have definitely been stressing me out."

     "Not on purpose," James said, "honestly.  What happened the other
day..."

     "I don't want to talk about it," Chris said, feeling his anger rise,
his blood pounding through his veins, "it was a lapse of judgment on my
part.  I got caught up in something."  He stopped himself before he could
say 'chemistry,' because it wasn't that.  Not the same as Jake, where the
entire world would disappear when Jake's arms wrapped around him, how
everything faded when they were together.  With James, it was nothing like
that, especially here in the winding hallways behind the auditorium.
Instead of the world fading, it seemed to close in, bring both of them into
magnification, where Chris seemed to analyze everything that went on in
James' head.

     "There you are," Jake said, walking down the hall, his hands in his
pockets.  He leaned down to kiss Chris softly, "Congratulations, James.
Good work."

     James gave him a small nod, watching as Chris became washed over with
fatigue.  He buried his face in Jake's shoulder and James felt the
slightest pang of guilt.  There were real emotions between the two of them.
"Are you alright?" James said softly after he heard a soft sigh, maybe a
sob.

     "He gets really bad stage fright," Jake said, "he only got the lines
ten minutes before."

     Nodding, James took a step back, part of him wanting to give them
space, the other part tempted to step towards them, assure Chris that he
did fine, that he was close to abandoning everything he'd set out to do.
Forget the script, forget everything, with everything right there in front
of him, it was getting too real.

     "Come on, let's go," Jake whispered, giving Chris a tiny nudge.  Chris
shook himself and straightened up, taking a deep breath.  He didn't look
back, just held Jake's hand tight as they wound through the halls, forget
Vegas, he just needed to be with Jake, it didn't matter where they were.

***

     A shock zipped up Chris' spine as he heard Jake groan, his own jaw
slack as he slid down Jake's cock, both of them moaning in unison as Chris
sank down all the way, his hands gripping Jake's shoulders, "Aw fuck, just
one second," Jake said, voice gravelly, "fuck, you're so tight."

     Sweat beaded on Jake's back and he leaned forward, his arms wrapping
around Chris, whose hole squeezed him tight, clenching his dick as they
kissed, Jake's hips moving up the tiniest bit, another jolt shooting up
Chris' back.  Jake's name slid from Chris' throat, gravelly and heavy with
the sound of sex.  Jake's hands clung to Chris' hips, fingers holding on as
Chris started to rise, falling down slowly, his hips flexing as he groaned,
the head of Jake's cock raking across his prostate, a shiver shaking
through him.  "Right there," he whispered, his eyes locking with Jake's.

     "I know," Jake said, "I know."  He pressed his forehead into Chris'
cheek, their bodies clung together as Chris went faster, shuddering with
every motion, his hands still holding onto Jake's shoulders, the slow fuck
even more intense than the hard fast ones Jake usually preferred.  Gasping,
Chris pushed his lips to Jake's, a tongue sliding against his, Jake's body
pressing against him even harder, sweat slicking their bodies.  Chris kept
the pace even, his eyes shut, his body just working from instinct, moving
when it felt good, moving to feel good.  The slow stretch and subtle burn
worked through him, sending tingles from the tips of his toes up through
his entire body, his grip still strong on Jake's strong shoulders, the
smell of sweat filling their noses, their lungs gasping for air as they
moved together.

     Chris moved his lips, catching Jake's ear, his breathing hot and hard
against the sensitive skin, a shiver coursing through Jake's body, goose
bumps springing up on his skin.  Jake's mouth dropped open when he felt
Chris' teeth on his earlobe, his hands holding Chris' hips still, his balls
aching with every squeeze of Chris' chute, his mind spinning as his body
just shook, every muscle tense as Chris hit every one of his spots, mouth
on his ear, hands on his back and chest, his ass tight and hot.  Pushing
Chris down onto his back, Jake licked and bit his collarbones, kissing them
softly as their bodies went into a familiar knot, one of Chris' legs on
Jake's shoulder, the other wrapped tight around his waist, Jake's arms
flexing on either side of Chris' head, his hips keeping the slow pace,
adding more force, pushing soft whimpers from Chris' mouth.  Jake pushed
his forehead to Chris' their eyes locking again, "Just like that," he
groaned, sending another shiver through Chris.

     Chris' fingers tangled in Jake's hair, his neck tense and his breath
short, "I'm so close," he groaned, but knowing how Jake was going, knowing
that this wasn't that sort of night, he was far from cumming.  Jake's lips
were on his neck again and Chris gripped the sheets, knuckles white as he
knotted the fabric, his back arching up, his breathing strained and his
eyes struggling to stay open.  Jake's eyes bore into his, his jaw tight and
his body still controlled, movements calculated.

     "Fuck, Jake," Chris whispered, his cock throbbing, a steady stream of
pre-cum slicking his stomach, "I...shit, I can't hold on."

     Jake slammed him hard, raising his voice an octave before instantly
resuming his slow thrusts.  He was getting close himself, but he slowed
down, his muscles tired, his body aching to just barrel ahead, to fuck
Chris hard and fast.  It took every shred of control not to, as bad as he
wanted it, the look on Chris' face, the sweetest combination of need and
lust, kept him going strong.  Throwing his head back, Jake slid his cock in
deep, hissing as Chris rolled up onto his shoulders, his legs pulling Jake
in tighter, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling slack.  "Jake,"
Chris whispered, the word ringing in Jake's ear, both of them freezing.

     Chris' toes curled, his body giving up, cum spurting from his dick,
his breath catching as his hole clutched at every inch of Jake's cock, a
silent groan coming from Chris' throat, his mouth open, no sound, just the
jerks of his body, the tight constrictions of his muscles under Jake.
Groaning, Jake fell slack on top of him, his hips moving fast and hard, all
control lost in the quaking clutches of Chris' hole, he bit into Chris'
shoulder and slammed hard, Chris still reeling from his own orgasm.  He
gripped Jake's shoulders, his eyes shut tight.

     Jake pulled Chris tight against him, breathing heavy in his ear as he
thrust hard, picking up speed as Chris' grunts got louder.  "I'm there,"
Jake groaned, sweat rolling down his back, his hips moving fast and hard.
He slammed in once, pulled out and shot, gobs of cum landing on Chris'
hole.  His groans and grunts were loud as he pushed back in, still
shooting, cum hot and thick as it shot deep in Chris' ass.  Both of them
breathing hard, the room suffocating, Chris was still shaking, his hands
running up and down Jake's sweaty back.  "Fuck," Jake groaned, Chris
kissing him again.

     "Jake, I...oh, man," Chris groaned, wiping his hair back off his head,
"I'm a mess."

     "You look good," Jake said, grinning as Chris' legs fell to the bed,
"just how I like you."

     "We've got a Jacuzzi in there, don't we?"  Chris felt Jake settling on
top of him, his lips on Chris' neck again.

     "I say we try again," Jake said as his hand crept down Chris chest.
He brought his finger to Chris' lips and Chris grabbed his wrist, tongue
licking up Jake's finger, "How about round two?"

     "This is Vegas Jake, they got way more than two rounds here."

     "I'm going to knock you out," Jake said, lifting Chris' legs again.
He leaned up for a kiss as Jake's hard cock ran up and down his crack,
"Ready to rumble?"

***

     Jake watched as Chris lazily poked at his breakfast, sighing as he
smeared bits of pancake and sausage through the pool of syrup on his plate.
He looked listless, the terrycloth hotel bathrobe hanging off a shoulder,
his legs crossed up on the chair.  "What's bugging you?" Jake asked before
taking a sip of coffee.

     "Everything," Chris said, looking up at Jake.  Jake didn't say
anything, just waited for Chris to keep going.  "Every since my parents
died, I felt like I've been chasing something bigger than me, my grandma
and grandpa raised to me, you know, to think that I could do big things."

     "You have done big things," Jake said, leaning forward, "don't ever
doubt that."

     Chris nodded, "But I've done a lot of things that I just...they
weren't what I wanted."

     "We all think that," Jake assured him, "but look at you now.  You're
almost done with another one."

     "I just feel like you've done so much for me and I haven't even
started to do anything back, so much happened after we met, even more after
we got serious."

     "What's going on?" Jake asked, his forehead wrinkling, his eyes
narrowing, "Is this about the movie?  It wasn't a mistake.  It's going to
be awesome.  Your book is there."

     "It's not that," Chris said quickly, "oh God, it's not that at all."
He put his fork down and ran his fingers through his hair, "I've just got a
lot going on."

     "Christopher," Jake said, his voice calm and slow, "you're going to
get through this, you always do.  Anything you need, I'm here."

     Chris sighed again, "You want to play poker, right?  I don't want to
ruin this whole thing."

     "We play poker all the time back at home, I want you to not feel like
this."

     "That thing yesterday..."

     "It was fine," Jake interrupted, "forget about it."

     Chris just shut his eyes and threw his head back, resting it on the
back of the chair as he stared at the ceiling, "I just want to spend time
with you.  Just me and you," he said quietly, "I feel like we haven't spent
any real time together."

     "I won't argue with that," Jake said, "just me and you."

     Both of their heads jerked to the table as Chris' phone buzzed, the
tinny sound of it vibrating against the table.  Jake grabbed it before
Chris could even call, thumbing at the buttons before he grinned, holding
it up to his ear, "Chris isn't taking any calls today."

     "Jake Gyllenhaal, it's James McAvoy here, I just wanted to know if
he's still feeling down.  But seems like it's all smiles over there."
Jake's eyes shot to Chris before he slid the phone across the table, not
saying a word.

     "This isn't a good time, James," Chris said, voice soft and listless,
"I'll call you when we get back to California."

     "Where are you staying?  I have to talk to you."

     "I can't talk right now," Chris said, hanging up the phone.

     Jake looked him in the eyes, silent.

     Chris kept pushing and poking at his food.  Room service always tasted
the same, no matter how fancy the hotel.  Ten-dollar pancakes were only
marginally better than the ones they made out of a box at home.  "We can do
whatever you want today.  Keep me from thinking about how much work I have
to do still."

     "I don't think I have to say this, we're past anything like this, but
I don't know if I like you seeing him as much as you do."

     Nodding, Chris set his fork down.  "I don't like seeing as much as I
do either.  I just can't help it."

     "Yes, you can.  You just have to say 'no.'  You have a hard time
saying that to anyone."

     "I never say it to you," Chris said, a tiny smile on his lips, "not
that I can remember."

     Jake took one last gulp of his coffee, "I'm sure I've heard it."  He
got up out of his chair and stretched, slipping his robe off his shoulders
as he walked around to kiss the back of Chris' neck.  "I think you say it,
'no, don't stop,'" he whispered, "and 'no, keep going, give it all to me.'"

      "You might be right," Chris said.  Jake kissed him softly, their lips
brushing as Chris kept talking, "I guess I don't have any issues saying
it."

***

     "You're tense," Jake whispered, his lips grazing Chris' ear, "want to
test out that couple's instructional massage session?"

     "I wasn't paying much attention," Chris said, laughing lightly as he
struggled to type, "I was paying more attention to your chest than to the
masseuse."

     "I think you're done," Jake said, his hands sliding down Chris' arms,
"I think you are."

     "I think I'm getting close," Chris said, leaning up to kiss Jake's
jaw, kiss his lips for a second, "just tying some things up."

     "Bestseller," Jake said, his hands on top of Chris', fingers mimicking
the up-down-up-down of his typing.  "Pulitzer Prize.  Critical acclaim and
all that."

     "I wish," Chris said softly, "let me get my jacket and we'll go out to
the water, yeah?"

     "Anything you want," Jake said, pulling away.  Chris kissed him softly
on the lips before bounding out of his chair, "You can't use work as an
excuse anymore, I saw that fax."

     "What fax?" Chris asked over his shoulder, already halfway out of the
room.

     "'Final edits,'" Jake said, arms crossed, "that means you're done."

     Chris shrugged, smiling, "For now.  You know how it goes from here."

     A few minutes later, they were walking on the sand, Atticus and Boo
scampering through the water a few feet in front of them, "We used to do
this all the time."

     "It's been cold," Chris said, locking his arm with Jake's, "but now
it's warming up.  We can keep doing this."

     "Yeah?" Jake asked as he kicked a flume of water up onto Chris'.  He
ran a few steps forward, exciting the dogs as Chris chased after them,
reaching down to splash Jake's back.  The water was cold and the sun was
setting, everything orange and gold, the sky painted with purples and
violet while the bright disk of the sun sank into the ocean.

     Chris grabbed Jake from behind and they fell together, toppling to the
sand, a low wave splashing over both of them.  They both went rigid for a
split second, the cold water shocking their systems.  Boo barked from the
edge of the dry sand, never one to get his paws wet, but Atticus was right
up next to them, barking as Jake pushed Chris' hair up off his forehead.
"I hate you," Chris said, "I'm freezing."

     Jake only pulled him down for a kiss, a second wave sending another
set of shivers through them.  It felt so good, he thought, having Chris on
top of him, feeling him close like this, both of them relaxed and free of
distraction.  They were getting too infrequent, these impromptu moments.

     "My sandal is coming off," Chris said, laughing as he scrambled up off
of Jake, tossing his jacket up onto the sand as he ran after his lost
flip-flop, the waves pulling it out into the water.  Jake watched as he
reached down and grabbed it, triumphant as another wave splashed up against
him, almost pushing him over.

     Jake got up out of the water, taking his shirt off to wring it out,
shoving it in his back pocket as Chris walked towards him, both sandals in
hand.  Chris' smile was infectious, Jake couldn't help but bear the same
toothy grin.  It got even bigger as Chris wrapped his arms around his
chest, "I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing Jake's jaw.

     "You hated me a second ago," Jake said, his hands coming up under
Chris' shirt, pulling their bodies tight.

     "I did," Chris said, groaning softly as their bodies moved together,
lips touching, arms, legs, and chests coming together the way they always
did, "but you stopped being jerk when we both got wet."

     "You forgive quick," Jake said, kissing his forehead before coming
down to his lips.

     "Do you?" Chris whispered.

     "When I want to," Jake said, laughing softly, "I'd forgive you for
pretty much anything."

    Chris pressed his body tighter to Jake's, "I love you," he said again.

     "Come on boys," Jake said, both of the dogs' ears perking up at the
sound.  They raced back to the house, Chris and Jake following behind, hand
in hand.  They were both shivering before they got back to the house.

     "Jesus, turn on the heater," Chris said, pulling his wet clothes off.
He trotted past the thermostat, tossing his clothes in a wet pile on the
floor of the laundry room.  He heard the heather hum as he reached into the
shower, Jake appearing at the door a few seconds later, "Thanks."

     "Going to warm up in there?" Jake asked, motioning to the shower,
steam already starting to fog the bathroom mirror.

     "You want to warm up too?"

     "I think I might," Jake said, smiling.  He ran his fingers through his
salty hair.  Chris had already gotten in, but Jake wasn't far behind.

     "This isn't much of a celebration," Topher said, setting a six-pack of
beer on the dining room table, "we can get into any restaurant in town."
Chris' hair was still damp from the shower, his knees a little shaky from
the orgasm Jake had fucked out of him.  But before he could even dry off,
Jake had called for pizza and company.

     "Hey, we've always been a little low key," Jake said, passing out
paper plates.

     Jonas already had his mouth full of pizza, leaning back in his chair
as Topher popped open beer for all four of them.  "This is to me finishing
a book and being almost sure it doesn't suck," Chris said, raising his
beer.

     The bottles clinked together and Jake grinned, "Here here," he said
before the sentiment echoed through the room, "And we're taking a break,
both of us.  After this publicity, we're going to just...be.  No work for a
while."

     Topher and Jonas both raised their eyebrows, "You think you can do
that?" Topher asked.

     "We've done it before," Jake said.

     "We're going to be okay," Chris said, "I think we need it."  There was
a knock at the door and Chris bolted up out of his chair, startled.
"Weird.  I'll go see," he set his pizza down and wiped his hands, "Stay
here."

     Trotting out to the foyer, Chris reached for the door and almost
slammed it shut when he saw James on the other side, v-neck t-shirt showing
wisps of chest hair, his hair combed back and his chin stubbled with his
trademark red.  "I won't be long," James said, "just wanted to give you
this."

     Chris took the letter from him, "I know you and I know me and I think
that we just maybe should start anew.  Forget what's transpired.  Just read
that.  It says more."

     Nodding, Chris stayed quiet, "Okay.  I'll..."

     "Just read it," James said, his eyes earnest and expression serious,
"it says more than I ever could."  He bowed his head a little, "I um...the
best to you, Christopher.  The very best."

     Biting his lip, Chris watched as James took a few steps backwards,
almost stumbling off of their porch, but he righted himself and went back
to his car, steps solemn.  He looked up at Chris one more time, gave him
half a smile.  Chris wanted to say something, but he couldn't think, his
mind still trying to absorb what James had said.  There were no grounds for
a good-bye.  Was James leaving?  Was he...there was so much that could
happen, so much that couldn't.  'Read it,' James mouthed, and a few seconds
later, Chris was watching the bright red of his tail lights speed down
their block.

***

     'Dear Christopher--' it started.  Chris read the two words over and
over, looked closely at James' messy penmanship, almost illegible, but
Chris had a knack for being able to read anything, no matter whose hand
wrote it.  If he could read Abigail's crayon and construction paper notes,
James' strange combination of cursive and printing would be nothing.  Jake
was known for writing in all capitals, strong and clear, but James' words
seemed hesitant and there was so much crossed out that Chris wondered if
this was really what James had meant to give him.

     'My foolhardy attitude and disregard for you and yours deserves more
than a mere apology.  But it is with great disappointment to myself that I
can offer nothing more.  I unabashedly put myself between you and your
husband, not realizing that I was displacing a happiness that few achieve.
You and Jake had welcomed me and I took advantage of you both, took
advantage of your friends and selfishly sought nothing but personal gain.
I know that we had a connection and I will come back.  When I am a better
person, I will come back."

      There was more, but Chris set the note down, taking a breath as he
ran his fingers through his hair.  He slipped the letter into his desk
drawer, sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, his eyes blinking
slowly, his head trying to process James' words.  They had a connection.
He was coming back.  He wasn't sure if that made things more or less clear.
He shut his eyes and listened to the water.  In what seemed like no time at
all, this guy had managed to crawl under his skin, to really get in deep.
It had taken Jake forever to break his defenses, but now that he'd let his
guard down, James broke right through him.  Maybe he'd gotten soft, maybe
he just didn't expect it from someone who was so different from Jake, but
it happened.

     "What's the deal, going to sleep in here tonight?" Topher asked,
grinning.  Topher.

     "Let me clean up the guestroom for you two," Chris said, stretching
his hands up over his head, "sorry for not helping clean up."

     Topher followed Chris into the guestroom, where he helped shove extra
things into the closet, a surfboard and sneakers already crowding the room.
"When we first met," Chris started, "that day in the office, did you talk
to me first or did I talk to you?"

     Eyebrow raised, "Do you ever talk to anyone first?"

     "I think we were introduced," Chris admitted.

     "You're a hard one to crack," Topher said, watching as Chris pulled
some extra pillows out of the closet.  "He's bothering you, isn't he?"

     Chris nodded.  He shrugged and just shook his head, "I don't even
know."

     "Yes you do, inside you know."

     "You know the toothbrushes are," Chris said, "well, you know where
everything is.  Are these sheets okay?  You want me to change them?  Will
Jonas care?"

     "He won't care."

     "Just tell me if you want to change them.  Or if you need anything."

     Topher nodded, smiling as Chris trotted down the stairs, wrapping his
arms around Jake's shoulders as he kissed his ear, "I love you," he
whispered, "so much."

     Jake turned around, kissing Chris' forehead before he kissed his lips,
"You tell me every day, I never get tired of hearing it."

     "I love you," Chris said again, "and I'll tell you every single day."

---

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