(no subject)
This was started eleven months ago, just after I saw Star Trek, and I'm finally evicting it from the depths of my computer. I got halfway with it, decided that I hated it and didn't know where it was going, and shoved it into a folder. Months later I dug it up, rewrote most of it and finished it. Then back into the folder it went. Almost a year later, it's seeing the light of day *g*
Title: Love in a Minor Key
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: PG
Summary: There's no slowing-down of time, no fanfare or blinding realisation. His breath doesn't catch or his knees go weak, and he doesn't suddenly feel like everything has changed.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.
A/N: Huge thanks to canadian_jay for the beta, who isn't in this fandom but still agreed to kick this into shape (it probably had something to do with my pleaing puppy eays XD)
Chris wakes up with his face shoved into a pillow that doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses, and a dog sitting on his legs. It takes him a moment to work out what the hell is going on, and he's almost got it when he turns over and instead of a faceful of cotton he gets a faceful of sunlight. The dog makes a snuffly noise as Chris yelps and covers his eyes, settling itself over his legs again, and that's about when Chris remembers he's at Zach's.
Other people might assume this is the part where he starts freaking out, especially considering he's actually in Zach's bed, not the guest room (that gets less sun in the morning, which would be nice right about now, thank you very much).
If this was the first time he's woken up here, he might freak out, but it's really not. Being hungover would also be cause for freaking out, but only in a mild, god-I-hope-there's-nothing-on-youtube sort of way. The simple fact of the matter is, Chris doesn't particularly care that it's a stupid time in the morning (there are birds chirping, it's got to be near dawn) and he's in Zach's bed.
He's lost count of the amount of time's he's woken up here, and the same goes for Zach in his bed. It's just something that happens - without large amounts of alcohol and/or sex involved. They go back to one of the other's house, order in or find a place to eat, and then...crash. Usually in the middle of a conversation, and after several mornings spent working out kinks in painful places from falling asleep on couches or, worse, the floor, they take the conversations to the bedroom when it gets late.
And that, no matter what anyone else might say, is not a euphemism.
There's enough of his stuff at Zach's that Chris doesn't have to look hard for a t-shirt to pull on over his boxers when he does finally get round to getting out of bed, dislodging Noah who promptly rolls into the warm spot he's left with a contended noise. There's a faint smell of coffee wafting up the stairs, and Chris is hoping there's enough left for him, because he really doesn't feel up to tackling Zach's temperamental coffee maker while he's still half asleep.
It only likes Zach, which is annoying and also so very Zach. Only he could have a coffee machine that hates everyone else, ever, when he himself is possibly the nicest person Chris knows.
Luckily there's still half a pot, and Chris wakes up by practically inhaling most of a mug while watching Zach cook something that smells good, but looks like no breakfast food Chris has ever seen before.
"Is that even edible?"
Zach grins and tosses the...whatever in the air, deftly catching it in the frying pan. "Of course. Everything I make is edible."
Chris snorts into his mug and boosts himself up onto the counter top, smiling. "What 'of course'? Don't you remember that Thai stuff you tried to make?"
"Honestly," Zach says, waving a spatula at Chris, "you come in here, you steal the covers, you drink my coffee, you mock my cooking skills...why do I put up with you?"
"Because at some point I'm going to let you beat the hell out of me on camera?" Zach pretends to consider, a smile tugging at his lips even as he tries to look serious. "Because your dog likes me, and everyone knows they have great taste in people?"
"Noah would like anyone who took the time to scratch him behind the ears, idiot. But I guess that'll do."
The thing in the pan turns out to be an omelette, albeit with many added ingredients, and it tastes pretty great. Chris wakes up enough to find the rest of his clothes and get out of there before Zach can guilt trip him into taking Noah for a walk before they have to be on set, because, yeah, Chris likes him, but he can barely keep up with Zach on some mornings, let alone a hyperactive dog eager for walkies.
--
Karl makes some comment about trouble at home when they arrive in separate cars, and laughs when Chris gives him the finger.
A normal morning, in pretty much every way.
--
See, they don't think it's weird. Sure, people occasionally ask about it, something along the lines of do you two live together, or what, but it's never really come up in serious conversation between just the two of them. They just go through each day's scenes, and aren't really bothered where they end up sleeping at night. There are days when it feels like they never want to see each other again, obviously, but they're few and far between.
Living in the same area makes it easier, but then again, it almost makes it too easy to take the route to Zach's place instead of his own in the evening, or whenever. Clothes are spread between their houses, to an extent where Chris finds himself clearing room in his closet and packs all of Zach's stuff away on actual hangers and shelves.
He goes over to Zach's a couple of days later and finds a similar thing has happened, although without the post-it notes he'd left on all Zach's cardigans telling him how awful they truly are. Instead his favourite plaid shirt is sharing hanger space with a sparkly red feather boa, which makes him laugh so hard he almost cries.
He wears it out that night to some bar, with the rest of the cast, and grins every time he catches Zach rolling his eyes.
Eventually Zoe steals it, claiming it'll look better on her, and dances off, leaving Chris to lean against Zach in the booth they've claimed.
"She stole my boa."
"Technically it's my boa," Zach says, slumping down so that his mouth is closer to Chris' ear.
Chris waves a hand. "You gave it to me, therefore it's mine."
"Not any more." The grin in Zach's voice makes Chris want to curl up next to him and just stay there, until whenever they get kicked out. He might just do that; he's had enough to drink that it seems like a good idea, but not enough that he's going to pass out and miss the warm feeling he's basking in right now. Zach keeps still, which is good, and Chris just...leans.
They're still like that when Simon sits down, muttering something uncomplimentary about American beer that would normally make Chris sit up and defend it to the death, just for fun, but he's finding Zach extraordinarily comfortable tonight, for some reason.
"Comfy?" Simon asks. Chris nods, and takes another drink from whatever it was that Zoe ordered him. Some sort of cocktail, possibly; it's bright enough, and the alcohol content would explain why he wants to crawl into Zach's lap. He hears "I think you should take him home," and it takes a moment for Chris to work out that Simon's talking to Zach, not him.
"Yeah, probably." He feels the words against his side, rumbling deep in Zach's chest, and he almost reaches out to touch before some part of his brain reminds him that that's not really a good idea. The exact reason why is a bit fuzzy, but he doesn't do it. "C'mon," Zach says, and now he's being tugged up and out of the booth, stumbling away as Simon raises his bottle in salute.
Outside it is cool enough to clear some of the fug from his head so he can stand on his own two feet. Zach hails a cab and gives the driver Chris' address, and doesn't resist when Chris pulls him in the back as well. "Good job it's not an early morning," is all he says on the drive home.
Chris knows that; they don't go out unless they've got a late start, because otherwise they're all on set at 6AM with hangovers, but he couldn't care less right now because Zach is letting him lean against him again, warm and solid and pretty much perfect.
Getting to bed is a trial, but they've had practice, and the only casualties are their shoes, which go flying off into the darkness to trip them in the morning when they're trying to get to the coffee. Falling asleep next to Zach is easy, like making the journey home.
--
Karl announces his presence by the simple process of flinging himself into a chair next to Chris, asking "Where's the other half of Hollywood's new power couple?", and waking Chris up from his doze in the process.
"Huh?" He really shouldn't go to sleep in the cast chairs. His neck hurts like hell, however much he twists it, and his entire left arm has gone numb.
"Zach," Karl clarifies. "That's what they're calling you two now. A 'power couple'. Whatever the hell that means."
"Right," Chris says, only half listening. His neck just won't stop feeling like its been completely realigned, dammit. "I don't know. I think he was-"
"Here," comes a voice from behind him. Chris tilts his head up, then winces in pain and wishes he hadn't done. Zach's hands are on his neck before he can say 'ow', pressing firmly. "I told you not to fall asleep in these chairs."
"I was tired," Chris says, aiming for pouting but only partially succeeding as Zach realigns his neck, or whatever it is his hands are doing. Karl watches with a lifted eyebrow. "Apparently we're a power couple."
"Good for us. Better?" He removes his hands and waits as Chris tilts his head from side to side, twisting round to grin up at Zach properly.
"Much, thanks."
Zach pats him on the shoulder, grinning back. "Don't fall asleep again. Run around in circles if you get tired, or go to sleep on the floor."
"You remember what happened the last time we tried that," Chris calls after him as Zach walks off. "We said never again!" He looks at Karl, who shakes his head slowly, smiling. "What?"
"Never mind the power, you guys are just a couple."
"Don't you start." Chris leans over to the chair Zach uses and digs through the accumulated stuff in the side pocket until he pulls out a book, sitting up again to see Karl still smiling at him. "We're not!"
"Ri-ight." Karl layers the word with sarcastic disbelief, both eyebrows now lifting.
"Shut up," Chris tells him, opening his stolen book, because they're not. He ignores Karl until they get called onto set, and then it's Bones he has to talk to.
--
The atmosphere on set is getting tense when he falls over in the chair for the first time. It's an awkward scene, requiring multiple cameras to be around them, and they've got to stick to the exact routes laid down by the technicians, otherwise things won't work. They've done their parts again and again, getting slightly more frayed each time.
Zach walks past, steps measured and even, says "Out of the chair," like he's done seven times already, and Chris...well, topples over.
He doesn't mean to, obviously. It just happens. The thing isn't bolted down, which makes it unsteady anyway, and he stands up awkwardly. The chair goes over with a bang, taking him with it. There's a beat, and then everyone bursts out laughing, tension gone as he lies on the floor feeling like an idiot.
Zach gives him a hand up, laughing as he does so, and says "I said out of it, not break it." Chris cracks up at that, because it is funny, even if he's bruised his back and possibly broken Captain Kirk's chair (he hasn't, but it's a close call). They get the scene done (for now) in another two takes, and J.J. sends them off with a smile.
He has to lie on his front when he goes to bed later that night, feeling oddly lonely in his own bed without any company, and wishes he'd had some excuse to go over to Zach's. Not that either of them needs an excuse, ever, but lately Chris hasn't wanted to push. Nothing's changed, exactly, but he feels more comfortable just being with Zach than he probably should.
When the phone by his bed rings Chris stares into the darkness for a moment, grinning like an idiot, before he picks it up. He doesn't have to look at the caller I.D to know that it's Zach.
"Hey."
“It's weird without you.“
"Same."
Later, Chris can't remember a thing they talk about, just that when he does hang up it's gone two in the morning but he sleeps like a rock, the echo of Zach's voice in his ears.
--
Training with Zach is fun, like pretty much everything else they do together, right up until the stunt coordinator says they're going to start work on the sequence where Spock basically beats the shit out of Kirk. Chris grins, at first, because it's just another excuse to spend time with Zach (not that he's been thinking of excuses to do that lately, or anything).
Then he clues in and starts listening, because wait, what? "Spock's meant to be stronger than Kirk anyway," Robert is saying, and yeah, he knows that, "but Kirk's trying to get Spock to attack him. He's not gonna fight back, so you've basically got to take whatever Zach's going to throw at you with only a minimum of defence."
"That's...going to be hard," Chris says. Zach looks at him questioningly, and Chris elaborates, because that's what they do, they talk about stuff. "He spends the rest of the film being the one throwing the punches, right? Using his fists to get himself out of the trouble he's caused."
"But now he's got to let Spock hit him, because it's the only way to get control of the ship." Zach finishes, nodding, and Chris finds himself grinning because Zach always just gets it.
"Yeah. It's going to take some practice to stop myself hitting back."
"The main issue will be trust," Robert says. "You've got to trust that Zach isn't going to hit you, no matter how it's going to look on camera. Accepting that, and letting it happen without trying to block, is going to be the most difficult part."
"I trust him," Chris says, and doesn't even have to think about it, or look at Zach, because he does.
Robert smiles, voice dry as he comments; "We'll see. Let's get started."
As it turns out, trusting Zach isn't the issue. Knowing that Zach could probably take him down easily if he ever really wanted to is one thing. Feeling that strength pushing him down onto the console and keeping him there is another thing entirely, especially when Chris wasn't prepared for it. It messes with his head a little, the way some things about Zach have been doing lately.
The next time is easier, and the one after that, and by the time they come to film the whole thing he can pull himself together fast enough to get over to the chair and say the right lines in the right order. He pushes his reaction to the back of his mind, because it doesn't mean anything. Or it means too much, but in either case it might mean giving up some part of the easy friendship between he and Zach, and Chris doesn't want that.
--
The Heroes script is lying on the island in the middle of Zach's kitchen, and for that simple reason is catches Chris' attention when he walks in. Technically he's got no reason to be here; it's nearing evening, they've had the day off filming, and there are at least three other places he could be other than Zach's empty house. One of those places might even include Zach, but Chris is still here.
Zach's place is tidy, which is why the script is so obvious. That, and Chris is constantly curious about the stuff here. He doesn't ask Zach many questions, mostly because he doesn't feel the need to know more abut the guy than Zach is willing to tell him, but anything in the house is fair game. It's a standing joke between them by now; sometimes Chris will find notes pressed between books or dvds, left there for him to find, like you're a dork and will you ever get tired of looking through my stuff?
Chris doesn't think he ever will, and leaves the pieces of paper where Zach will find them.
It's a well-thumbed copy, probably from an old episode, but he doesn't recognise the title. He's reading it when Zach gets back, Noah appearing from somewhere in the house to jump at him and bark in greeting. Zach's bending down when he walks into the kitchen, so he doesn't see Chris for a minute, but when he does straighten up he doesn't look surprised.
"What did you find this time?"
Chris holds up the script. "I don't get it."
Zach brushes past him, going for the fridge. "What season is that from?" He doesn't wait for an answer, though, just leans over Chris' shoulder and flips the script back to the front page. Chris keeps very still, waits until Zach moves away again, and absolutely doesn't want to chase the feeling of warmth all down his side. "Three. Yeah, you're not going to understand unless you've seen the rest."
"I didn't mean that." Chris spins on his stool until he's facing Zach, who's leaning against the worktop and lifting questioning brows at him. "I meant, I can't understand you as the villain."
The smile that spreads over Zach's face makes Chris want to duck his head and blush, even though it's the same smile he's seen every day for the last few months. "You don't think I can be evil?"
"Evil like a fluffy kitten, maybe. One that occasionally digs its claws in, but you don't really notice because it's an adorable fluffy kitten."
"I'm a kitten?" Zach looks confused, but he's still smiling.
"Actually, you're making dinner." When in doubt, or when you've painted yourself into a corner, change the topic. It's a ploy Chris has been using more and more lately, and he's hoping Zach hasn't noticed. If he does this time he doesn't mention it, just rolls his eyes.
"Let me think. Something involving...pasta?"
Chris shrugs, grinning. "If you're going to be a good cook, expect to be taken advantage of."
"I'm getting used to it." He pushes away from the worktop, stretching. Chris glances down at the script still in his hands before he can catch sight of the strip of bare skin exposed by Zach's motions, knowing he's getting close to an edge he didn't know existed two weeks ago. "I'll feed you if you feed Noah."
"Deal."
The dog is pathetically grateful to be fed, like always, even though he gets spoiled rotten by everyone who comes over. Chris gives him a pat and leaves him to his bowl, reclaiming his seat as Zach starts cooking. He likes watching the process, possibly as much as he likes the end result, and it's giving him more than a little cause for inner turmoil.
The voice in his head telling him he's in too deep sounds worryingly like Karl's.
--
Going out during filming is a welcome break from repeating scenes until they've all learnt each other's lines, and lets them all step away from the characters for a while. The club is dimly lit, but the music is good and the beer is cold, so Chris figures he'll stick around and try to settle back into his own skin.
Playing Kirk is fun, and easier than people assume, what with the shadow of William Shatner hovering two steps behind him the entire time, but lately it's been... tiring. Nothing that's stopping him doing his job, or enjoying it, but it's starting to feel that Kirk is constantly going a thousand miles an hour - no wonder, given the plot - and Chris sort of wants to go a bit slower for a while.
They've grabbed a table, like they always do, because there's usually one of them who just wants to sit and nurse the drink of their choice, and Zoe complains if she doesn't have somewhere to rest her feet later on in the night. Tonight John and Anton are holding forth, voices loud over the music and smiles bright as they talk (or try to), but Chris finds himself a seat at the bar instead.
He doesn't know what's got him in this introspective mood, but the jerk next to him isn't helping, jostling his arm as Chris tries to drink his beer, and generally making his presence known. Turning away would mean looking in the direction of the packed dance floor, and even in the dim light Zach would be instantly visible, so yeah. Chris keeps his eyes front and down.
"Hey." Chris looks up, suddenly aware that the jerk is talking to him, and whoa shit, that smile can't be mistaken for anything but predatory.
"Um," he says, because people might joke, but this has seriously never happened to him before. "I'm-"
"Hot?" The guy interrupts, eyes flicking over him, and right there, that's enough for Chris. "I'm Nick."
"I don't-" he starts, and then stops, because what the fuck is he meant to say? 'Thanks but no thanks'? Or 'I'm straight', maybe, but now is possibly not the time to get into that. The smile widens into a grin, because of course the jerk takes his pause for a sign he's interested, or at least not complaining, and he's leaning in when Chris feels an arm drop across his shoulders.
The grin on the guy's face snaps off instantly, and he leans back, almost enough that he falls off his own bar stool. The arm is accompanied by the rest of Zach, tall, warm and solid, and he tilts a hip to press his upper body against Chris' with an easy grace.
"You all right?" he asks, voice pitched enough that Chris can hear it over the pounding bass line. He doesn't move his arm, and Chris finds himself leaning into the touch.
"Fine," he replies, and keeps his eyes on Nick. "Just talking, right?"
"Sure," Nick says, looking worried. "No harm, no foul, okay? My mistake."
"No big deal," Zach tells him, and the tone of voice he uses isn't one Chris knows. Nick smiles tightly, swallows the last of his drink and makes a quick exit, shouldering his way through the throng of people around the bar without looking back.
"Thanks." Chris twists on his stool to look up at Zach, and feels anything else he was thinking of saying catch in his throat. Zach's face is darkly angry, eyes hooded as he watches the crowd part around Nick and then flow back into place, and the expression is fucking hot. When he turns back to Chris his face is simply amused, but that one glimpse Chris had explains why he's so good at playing the murderous villain.
And why he's in over his head, helpfully, like he needed any more pointers.
"Come here often?" Is all Zach says, though, and laughs when Chris tries to elbow him. He uses the arm he's still got slung over Chris' shoulders to pull him towards their table, pushing him into a seat and then slumping next to him to listen to whatever tall tale Anton is spinning.
Chris decides he can think just as well here, surrounded by his friends, as over at the bar, and proceeds to fall so far into his own head that it takes Zach three tries at calling his name to jerk him out of it and get him to stumble into a cab.
--
This time when Chris wakes up Zach is still there, although he's sitting up and doing something on his laptop. Chris keeps his eyes shut and tries to will himself back to sleep, but fails. Keeping his eyes tightly shut against the morning light (he knows it's morning by the angle of the rays hitting his face, and man, he has got to spend less time in Zach's bed if he knows that), he twists until he's on his side facing Zach.
"Sleep well?"
"Gnyah," Chris answers incoherently. He feels the bed shake slightly as Zach laughs silently at him, and extracts one hand from under the bedcovers to flail around in Zach's general direction. He grins sleepily at the yelp Zach makes when he lands a blow on what he assumes is Zach's arm, then pulls his hand back in. "Time is't?"
"Just past nine."
Chris cracks open an eye and is treated to the sight of Zach's forearm, dark smattering of dark hair and pale skin the only thing he can see apart from the white pillow it's resting on. "Are we very late, or did I miss something?"
"You missed the six-thirty phone call telling us not to bother coming in because there's been a lighting malfunction," Zach tells him. "No filming today, apparently."
"Oh good," he answers through a yawn, and shuts his eye. It's far too early to be worrying about the slow heat that seeing Zach's bare skin is creating deep in his belly, but there's no reason to court temptation. "More sleep?"
Zach laughs again, warm and low. "You shouldn't need more sleep. You should be used to getting up early."
"Doesn't mean I enjoy it," Chris says, and makes no move towards getting up. "What're you doing?"
"Stuff. Following links from the others, mostly."
"Anything good?" Chris lifts his head and looks at the screen as loud, bad quality sound start playing, but his eyes are hazy with sleep so he can't tell what it is before Zach hurriedly shuts it off. "The fuck?"
"Old clip of me," Zach says, and Chris grins again.
"Can't be worse than the guinea-pig one." Chris has to turn his head to hide his smile in the pillow as Zach groans, because this is easy, and he loves it.
"Who showed you?"
"Not telling," Chris answers with a laugh, and after that it can obviously only end in the sort of tickling war Chris hadn't been in since he was twelve, until he met Zach. He wins, because he fights dirty, and manages to tip Zach off the side of the bed and run downstairs while he's lying winded on the floor. By the time Zach makes it down after him they're both laughing too much to carry on, and they flop onto the couch to catch their breath.
A full day off filming for any reason is rare, so they make half-hearted plans to go on a full day hike, or something similarly energetic, but they're still there half an hour later, talking. Eventually Chris demands food, by which he means coffee, by which he means he wants Zach to tackle the temperamental coffee machine. He stays where he is while Zach disappears into the kitchen, returning with coffee and toast, and moves his feet so Zach can sit down again.
"How 'bout we jus' stay here?" He asks through a mouthful of toast.
Zach sips his coffee and lets his head drop back to rest on the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut. "Sounds good."
A comfortable silence reigns, and Chris idly wonders how far down the slippery slope you can fall without realising you're on one, because he's passed the point of no return without noticing.
--
"You're screwed," Karl tells him down the phone line. It's warm in L.A., enough that he doesn't need a jacket to sit outside a small cafe in a t-shirt, jeans and Zach's glasses, and the cheerful weather has made him brave enough to ring Karl.
"Tell me something I don't know," he says, and if it's got a sharp edge to it, then that's because he still feels sluggish and not quite awake, even after three coffees. The fourth sits in front of him, rapidly cooling as he picks at the paper sleeve around the cup.
"He's more than half in love with you," Karl tells him bluntly, because apparently this is the one day he gets serious on them all. Or maybe just Chris.
He responds with "Fuck off" before he thinks, and hears Karl's sigh gusting down the connection.
"It's true, mate. Why is anyone's guess. Sure, you're stupidly good-looking, in that pretty-but-dumb Hollywood way, but-"
"Enough, enough," Chris says, laughing in spite of himself. "It's too early for my ego to hear this."
"Your ego must be fragile if it can't cope with hearing that Zach is in love with you," Karl says dryly. "Think about it: he doesn't tell anyone he's gay - and if you say you didn't know I'll call you a liar, and a bad one to boot - but he sorted that asshole in the club out, didn't he?"
"He was-" being a good friend, and if he says that he really will be a liar, so he doesn't. "I've gotta go."
"Yeah, yeah. Sort it out, mate, or the rest of us'll get involved."
Chris cuts the call and sits there for a while, staring up at the sky through the glasses he stole from Zach's bedside table that morning.
--
They're going over the rewrites for what Chris calls the cheating scene, and what Zach calls 'the one where Spock tries to teach Kirk the value of fear, but fails' when a thought occurs to Chris. "Did I say thank you for the other day, in the club?"
Zach looks up, Spock's words dying on his lips. He doesn't look thrown, but then again, he doesn't look anything, expression blank. "Yeah."
"Well, thanks again, anyway," Chris says, feeling like a teenager again. He looks down at the new script, fiddling with the corner of a page and trying to fight back a blush.
"It was nothing," Zach says, shrugging. "I figured you needed help; you didn't look interested."
"Not in him, no." And that's it, he's thrown himself off into the deep end - not that Zach seemingly notices.
He hopes Karl will approve.
--
Breakfast before an early morning call means toast and coffee, hastily made while they take turns in the shower (except on the rare occasions when they're in their separate houses, then they grab something on-set. Chris adds that to the list of things he avoids thinking about.), which they'll generally eat standing up. There's time to sit, of course; they're never that late, but they usually stand.
Chris looks up one morning, gathering his thoughts together, hoping there aren't too many script edits to learn before shooting starts, and catches Zach licking toast crumbs off his fingers. There's no slowing-down of time, no fanfare or blinding realisation. His breath doesn't catch or his knees go weak, and he doesn't suddenly feel like everything has changed. It just settles on him, like a thick winter coat, warm and comforting, solid around him.
This is enough, Chris realises. Being with Zach like this, and it never going any further. He could carry on like this for years, if Zach will let him. Sure, there's a part of him that wants more, that wants to know what Zach's hair would feel like if he ran his hands through it, or what their sleepy Sunday mornings would be like if they lay in bed trading sleepy kisses instead of newspaper sections (although they'd probably still do that, he knows).
He can keep that secret, though, locked away, so long as this simplicity never changes. If he can still see Zach's crinkly-eyed smiles first thing in the morning, or argue with him over what pizza to order, or conspire against Simon, or do a million other tiny, domestic things with Zach, then it'll be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.
Zach finishes with the crumbs, wiping his hand on the edge of his old shirt, and looks at Chris. "Ready?" he asks, a half-smile on his lips, like it's too early to smile fully.
Chris drains the last of his coffee and moves to set the mug in the sink for later, nodding. "Let's go."
--
It's dark, sometime around one by Chris' reckoning, when Zach pads quietly into his bedroom. Chris hears him because he can't sleep all that well without Zach next to him, or at the very least nearby, and yes he knows he's screwed, but he's too tired to give a shit. Zach pauses in toeing off his shoes when Chris turns over groggily, a tall shape he can just about make out.
"Sorry," he whispers. "Go back to sleep."
"S'ok. Have fun?"
Zach's jacket and shirt come off next, landing in what manages to be a neat pile on a chair by the end of the bed. Chris doesn't know how he manages that. "Oh, sure," he says, still whispering, like it makes a difference anymore. "I love being stuck in a room with the Heroes people, forced to make small talk while Milo and Hayden try to annihilate each other."
Chris smiles, pushing himself up slightly to lean against the pillows. "Still that bad?"
"Any longer and I would've killed them myself, just to get out of there." Amusement layers his voice, low and rich in the darkness. Chris lets his eyes slide shut again, holding on to the feeling of it for as long as he can while Zach disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, Chris is half asleep again, wriggling down until he's comfy again, but he comes to when the bed dips.
"Sorry I woke you," Zach says, voice little more than a murmur. Chris yawns.
"Whatever." He can feel Zach settling down, shifting around and making the pillows shake, tugging at the covers until Chris lets go with a slight smile. "Hey," he says, not really expecting Zach to answer.
"Hmm?"
"How did you escape alive?" Zach shifts until he's facing Chris, his general shape just visible as a patch of darker shadow. Chris blinks at him, or at what he assumes is Zach's face, and feels like he'll be able to sleep now.
"Told them the wife was waiting for me," he answers, sleep already thick in his tone, and it was probably the truth.
"Charming," Chris tells him, and falls asleep between one breath and another.
--
They're scrambling around the next morning, late because they overslept, and it takes several minutes for Chris to realise that the reason he can't find the shirt he knows he set out the night before is because Zach's holding it. He reaches out for it, frowning a little. "Zach?"
"Does it bother you?" Zach asks, instead of handing him the shirt. Chris lifts his eyebrows slightly, not quite awake enough to guess what he's talking about. "That people think we're, y'know..."
"Together?" Chris grabs the shirt and slides it on, shrugging as he starts buttoning it up. "Not really. Although I did get a bit freaked out when my mom asked if I was going to bring that 'nice boy' I'd met to visit them," he adds with a grin. Zach smiles slightly.
"And I guess the people that know us," he says, tone neutral and careful, like he thinks Chris is about to run away, "know that we'd be smart enough to wait until after filming and everything was done to start anything." It sounds as if he tries to make it into a joke, but there's something about his expression that stops Chris from responding in kind.
He looks at Zach, at the way he's holding himself very still and how he's looking at a point over Chris' shoulder, not meeting his eyes. Chris blinks. "Yeah," he says, mouth suddenly dry. "I think they trust us to know that that would be the best idea."
"And even though they try to interfere, they just want what's good for us." Zach finally glances at him, and Chris can't help the grin that spreads across his face.
"Waiting is the sensible, mature thing to do," he tells Zach as solemnly as he can manage, and feels ridiculously happy when he sees an answering grin pull at the corners of Zach's mouth. They stand in the bedroom looking at each other like a pair of fools, not saying anything, until Zach's cell interrupts with the sound of a text arriving. He grabs it from the bedside table, scanning the message before gathering up the rest of his things while Chris resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets and start whistling something jaunty
"John says we're going to be late." He tosses Chris his jacket, waiting as he pulls it on, then they hurry down the stairs and out to his car. Chris leans back in his seat, watching Zach drive, and feels ready for anything Kirk needs to do that day.
"Hey."
"Mmm?"
Zach gives him a look out of the corner of his eyes, his lips tilted up in a knowing smirk. "Karl, right?"
Chris laughs. "Yeah. Zoe?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
♣
Title: Love in a Minor Key
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: PG
Summary: There's no slowing-down of time, no fanfare or blinding realisation. His breath doesn't catch or his knees go weak, and he doesn't suddenly feel like everything has changed.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.
A/N: Huge thanks to canadian_jay for the beta, who isn't in this fandom but still agreed to kick this into shape (it probably had something to do with my pleaing puppy eays XD)
Chris wakes up with his face shoved into a pillow that doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses, and a dog sitting on his legs. It takes him a moment to work out what the hell is going on, and he's almost got it when he turns over and instead of a faceful of cotton he gets a faceful of sunlight. The dog makes a snuffly noise as Chris yelps and covers his eyes, settling itself over his legs again, and that's about when Chris remembers he's at Zach's.
Other people might assume this is the part where he starts freaking out, especially considering he's actually in Zach's bed, not the guest room (that gets less sun in the morning, which would be nice right about now, thank you very much).
If this was the first time he's woken up here, he might freak out, but it's really not. Being hungover would also be cause for freaking out, but only in a mild, god-I-hope-there's-nothing-on-youtube sort of way. The simple fact of the matter is, Chris doesn't particularly care that it's a stupid time in the morning (there are birds chirping, it's got to be near dawn) and he's in Zach's bed.
He's lost count of the amount of time's he's woken up here, and the same goes for Zach in his bed. It's just something that happens - without large amounts of alcohol and/or sex involved. They go back to one of the other's house, order in or find a place to eat, and then...crash. Usually in the middle of a conversation, and after several mornings spent working out kinks in painful places from falling asleep on couches or, worse, the floor, they take the conversations to the bedroom when it gets late.
And that, no matter what anyone else might say, is not a euphemism.
There's enough of his stuff at Zach's that Chris doesn't have to look hard for a t-shirt to pull on over his boxers when he does finally get round to getting out of bed, dislodging Noah who promptly rolls into the warm spot he's left with a contended noise. There's a faint smell of coffee wafting up the stairs, and Chris is hoping there's enough left for him, because he really doesn't feel up to tackling Zach's temperamental coffee maker while he's still half asleep.
It only likes Zach, which is annoying and also so very Zach. Only he could have a coffee machine that hates everyone else, ever, when he himself is possibly the nicest person Chris knows.
Luckily there's still half a pot, and Chris wakes up by practically inhaling most of a mug while watching Zach cook something that smells good, but looks like no breakfast food Chris has ever seen before.
"Is that even edible?"
Zach grins and tosses the...whatever in the air, deftly catching it in the frying pan. "Of course. Everything I make is edible."
Chris snorts into his mug and boosts himself up onto the counter top, smiling. "What 'of course'? Don't you remember that Thai stuff you tried to make?"
"Honestly," Zach says, waving a spatula at Chris, "you come in here, you steal the covers, you drink my coffee, you mock my cooking skills...why do I put up with you?"
"Because at some point I'm going to let you beat the hell out of me on camera?" Zach pretends to consider, a smile tugging at his lips even as he tries to look serious. "Because your dog likes me, and everyone knows they have great taste in people?"
"Noah would like anyone who took the time to scratch him behind the ears, idiot. But I guess that'll do."
The thing in the pan turns out to be an omelette, albeit with many added ingredients, and it tastes pretty great. Chris wakes up enough to find the rest of his clothes and get out of there before Zach can guilt trip him into taking Noah for a walk before they have to be on set, because, yeah, Chris likes him, but he can barely keep up with Zach on some mornings, let alone a hyperactive dog eager for walkies.
--
Karl makes some comment about trouble at home when they arrive in separate cars, and laughs when Chris gives him the finger.
A normal morning, in pretty much every way.
--
See, they don't think it's weird. Sure, people occasionally ask about it, something along the lines of do you two live together, or what, but it's never really come up in serious conversation between just the two of them. They just go through each day's scenes, and aren't really bothered where they end up sleeping at night. There are days when it feels like they never want to see each other again, obviously, but they're few and far between.
Living in the same area makes it easier, but then again, it almost makes it too easy to take the route to Zach's place instead of his own in the evening, or whenever. Clothes are spread between their houses, to an extent where Chris finds himself clearing room in his closet and packs all of Zach's stuff away on actual hangers and shelves.
He goes over to Zach's a couple of days later and finds a similar thing has happened, although without the post-it notes he'd left on all Zach's cardigans telling him how awful they truly are. Instead his favourite plaid shirt is sharing hanger space with a sparkly red feather boa, which makes him laugh so hard he almost cries.
He wears it out that night to some bar, with the rest of the cast, and grins every time he catches Zach rolling his eyes.
Eventually Zoe steals it, claiming it'll look better on her, and dances off, leaving Chris to lean against Zach in the booth they've claimed.
"She stole my boa."
"Technically it's my boa," Zach says, slumping down so that his mouth is closer to Chris' ear.
Chris waves a hand. "You gave it to me, therefore it's mine."
"Not any more." The grin in Zach's voice makes Chris want to curl up next to him and just stay there, until whenever they get kicked out. He might just do that; he's had enough to drink that it seems like a good idea, but not enough that he's going to pass out and miss the warm feeling he's basking in right now. Zach keeps still, which is good, and Chris just...leans.
They're still like that when Simon sits down, muttering something uncomplimentary about American beer that would normally make Chris sit up and defend it to the death, just for fun, but he's finding Zach extraordinarily comfortable tonight, for some reason.
"Comfy?" Simon asks. Chris nods, and takes another drink from whatever it was that Zoe ordered him. Some sort of cocktail, possibly; it's bright enough, and the alcohol content would explain why he wants to crawl into Zach's lap. He hears "I think you should take him home," and it takes a moment for Chris to work out that Simon's talking to Zach, not him.
"Yeah, probably." He feels the words against his side, rumbling deep in Zach's chest, and he almost reaches out to touch before some part of his brain reminds him that that's not really a good idea. The exact reason why is a bit fuzzy, but he doesn't do it. "C'mon," Zach says, and now he's being tugged up and out of the booth, stumbling away as Simon raises his bottle in salute.
Outside it is cool enough to clear some of the fug from his head so he can stand on his own two feet. Zach hails a cab and gives the driver Chris' address, and doesn't resist when Chris pulls him in the back as well. "Good job it's not an early morning," is all he says on the drive home.
Chris knows that; they don't go out unless they've got a late start, because otherwise they're all on set at 6AM with hangovers, but he couldn't care less right now because Zach is letting him lean against him again, warm and solid and pretty much perfect.
Getting to bed is a trial, but they've had practice, and the only casualties are their shoes, which go flying off into the darkness to trip them in the morning when they're trying to get to the coffee. Falling asleep next to Zach is easy, like making the journey home.
--
Karl announces his presence by the simple process of flinging himself into a chair next to Chris, asking "Where's the other half of Hollywood's new power couple?", and waking Chris up from his doze in the process.
"Huh?" He really shouldn't go to sleep in the cast chairs. His neck hurts like hell, however much he twists it, and his entire left arm has gone numb.
"Zach," Karl clarifies. "That's what they're calling you two now. A 'power couple'. Whatever the hell that means."
"Right," Chris says, only half listening. His neck just won't stop feeling like its been completely realigned, dammit. "I don't know. I think he was-"
"Here," comes a voice from behind him. Chris tilts his head up, then winces in pain and wishes he hadn't done. Zach's hands are on his neck before he can say 'ow', pressing firmly. "I told you not to fall asleep in these chairs."
"I was tired," Chris says, aiming for pouting but only partially succeeding as Zach realigns his neck, or whatever it is his hands are doing. Karl watches with a lifted eyebrow. "Apparently we're a power couple."
"Good for us. Better?" He removes his hands and waits as Chris tilts his head from side to side, twisting round to grin up at Zach properly.
"Much, thanks."
Zach pats him on the shoulder, grinning back. "Don't fall asleep again. Run around in circles if you get tired, or go to sleep on the floor."
"You remember what happened the last time we tried that," Chris calls after him as Zach walks off. "We said never again!" He looks at Karl, who shakes his head slowly, smiling. "What?"
"Never mind the power, you guys are just a couple."
"Don't you start." Chris leans over to the chair Zach uses and digs through the accumulated stuff in the side pocket until he pulls out a book, sitting up again to see Karl still smiling at him. "We're not!"
"Ri-ight." Karl layers the word with sarcastic disbelief, both eyebrows now lifting.
"Shut up," Chris tells him, opening his stolen book, because they're not. He ignores Karl until they get called onto set, and then it's Bones he has to talk to.
--
The atmosphere on set is getting tense when he falls over in the chair for the first time. It's an awkward scene, requiring multiple cameras to be around them, and they've got to stick to the exact routes laid down by the technicians, otherwise things won't work. They've done their parts again and again, getting slightly more frayed each time.
Zach walks past, steps measured and even, says "Out of the chair," like he's done seven times already, and Chris...well, topples over.
He doesn't mean to, obviously. It just happens. The thing isn't bolted down, which makes it unsteady anyway, and he stands up awkwardly. The chair goes over with a bang, taking him with it. There's a beat, and then everyone bursts out laughing, tension gone as he lies on the floor feeling like an idiot.
Zach gives him a hand up, laughing as he does so, and says "I said out of it, not break it." Chris cracks up at that, because it is funny, even if he's bruised his back and possibly broken Captain Kirk's chair (he hasn't, but it's a close call). They get the scene done (for now) in another two takes, and J.J. sends them off with a smile.
He has to lie on his front when he goes to bed later that night, feeling oddly lonely in his own bed without any company, and wishes he'd had some excuse to go over to Zach's. Not that either of them needs an excuse, ever, but lately Chris hasn't wanted to push. Nothing's changed, exactly, but he feels more comfortable just being with Zach than he probably should.
When the phone by his bed rings Chris stares into the darkness for a moment, grinning like an idiot, before he picks it up. He doesn't have to look at the caller I.D to know that it's Zach.
"Hey."
“It's weird without you.“
"Same."
Later, Chris can't remember a thing they talk about, just that when he does hang up it's gone two in the morning but he sleeps like a rock, the echo of Zach's voice in his ears.
--
Training with Zach is fun, like pretty much everything else they do together, right up until the stunt coordinator says they're going to start work on the sequence where Spock basically beats the shit out of Kirk. Chris grins, at first, because it's just another excuse to spend time with Zach (not that he's been thinking of excuses to do that lately, or anything).
Then he clues in and starts listening, because wait, what? "Spock's meant to be stronger than Kirk anyway," Robert is saying, and yeah, he knows that, "but Kirk's trying to get Spock to attack him. He's not gonna fight back, so you've basically got to take whatever Zach's going to throw at you with only a minimum of defence."
"That's...going to be hard," Chris says. Zach looks at him questioningly, and Chris elaborates, because that's what they do, they talk about stuff. "He spends the rest of the film being the one throwing the punches, right? Using his fists to get himself out of the trouble he's caused."
"But now he's got to let Spock hit him, because it's the only way to get control of the ship." Zach finishes, nodding, and Chris finds himself grinning because Zach always just gets it.
"Yeah. It's going to take some practice to stop myself hitting back."
"The main issue will be trust," Robert says. "You've got to trust that Zach isn't going to hit you, no matter how it's going to look on camera. Accepting that, and letting it happen without trying to block, is going to be the most difficult part."
"I trust him," Chris says, and doesn't even have to think about it, or look at Zach, because he does.
Robert smiles, voice dry as he comments; "We'll see. Let's get started."
As it turns out, trusting Zach isn't the issue. Knowing that Zach could probably take him down easily if he ever really wanted to is one thing. Feeling that strength pushing him down onto the console and keeping him there is another thing entirely, especially when Chris wasn't prepared for it. It messes with his head a little, the way some things about Zach have been doing lately.
The next time is easier, and the one after that, and by the time they come to film the whole thing he can pull himself together fast enough to get over to the chair and say the right lines in the right order. He pushes his reaction to the back of his mind, because it doesn't mean anything. Or it means too much, but in either case it might mean giving up some part of the easy friendship between he and Zach, and Chris doesn't want that.
--
The Heroes script is lying on the island in the middle of Zach's kitchen, and for that simple reason is catches Chris' attention when he walks in. Technically he's got no reason to be here; it's nearing evening, they've had the day off filming, and there are at least three other places he could be other than Zach's empty house. One of those places might even include Zach, but Chris is still here.
Zach's place is tidy, which is why the script is so obvious. That, and Chris is constantly curious about the stuff here. He doesn't ask Zach many questions, mostly because he doesn't feel the need to know more abut the guy than Zach is willing to tell him, but anything in the house is fair game. It's a standing joke between them by now; sometimes Chris will find notes pressed between books or dvds, left there for him to find, like you're a dork and will you ever get tired of looking through my stuff?
Chris doesn't think he ever will, and leaves the pieces of paper where Zach will find them.
It's a well-thumbed copy, probably from an old episode, but he doesn't recognise the title. He's reading it when Zach gets back, Noah appearing from somewhere in the house to jump at him and bark in greeting. Zach's bending down when he walks into the kitchen, so he doesn't see Chris for a minute, but when he does straighten up he doesn't look surprised.
"What did you find this time?"
Chris holds up the script. "I don't get it."
Zach brushes past him, going for the fridge. "What season is that from?" He doesn't wait for an answer, though, just leans over Chris' shoulder and flips the script back to the front page. Chris keeps very still, waits until Zach moves away again, and absolutely doesn't want to chase the feeling of warmth all down his side. "Three. Yeah, you're not going to understand unless you've seen the rest."
"I didn't mean that." Chris spins on his stool until he's facing Zach, who's leaning against the worktop and lifting questioning brows at him. "I meant, I can't understand you as the villain."
The smile that spreads over Zach's face makes Chris want to duck his head and blush, even though it's the same smile he's seen every day for the last few months. "You don't think I can be evil?"
"Evil like a fluffy kitten, maybe. One that occasionally digs its claws in, but you don't really notice because it's an adorable fluffy kitten."
"I'm a kitten?" Zach looks confused, but he's still smiling.
"Actually, you're making dinner." When in doubt, or when you've painted yourself into a corner, change the topic. It's a ploy Chris has been using more and more lately, and he's hoping Zach hasn't noticed. If he does this time he doesn't mention it, just rolls his eyes.
"Let me think. Something involving...pasta?"
Chris shrugs, grinning. "If you're going to be a good cook, expect to be taken advantage of."
"I'm getting used to it." He pushes away from the worktop, stretching. Chris glances down at the script still in his hands before he can catch sight of the strip of bare skin exposed by Zach's motions, knowing he's getting close to an edge he didn't know existed two weeks ago. "I'll feed you if you feed Noah."
"Deal."
The dog is pathetically grateful to be fed, like always, even though he gets spoiled rotten by everyone who comes over. Chris gives him a pat and leaves him to his bowl, reclaiming his seat as Zach starts cooking. He likes watching the process, possibly as much as he likes the end result, and it's giving him more than a little cause for inner turmoil.
The voice in his head telling him he's in too deep sounds worryingly like Karl's.
--
Going out during filming is a welcome break from repeating scenes until they've all learnt each other's lines, and lets them all step away from the characters for a while. The club is dimly lit, but the music is good and the beer is cold, so Chris figures he'll stick around and try to settle back into his own skin.
Playing Kirk is fun, and easier than people assume, what with the shadow of William Shatner hovering two steps behind him the entire time, but lately it's been... tiring. Nothing that's stopping him doing his job, or enjoying it, but it's starting to feel that Kirk is constantly going a thousand miles an hour - no wonder, given the plot - and Chris sort of wants to go a bit slower for a while.
They've grabbed a table, like they always do, because there's usually one of them who just wants to sit and nurse the drink of their choice, and Zoe complains if she doesn't have somewhere to rest her feet later on in the night. Tonight John and Anton are holding forth, voices loud over the music and smiles bright as they talk (or try to), but Chris finds himself a seat at the bar instead.
He doesn't know what's got him in this introspective mood, but the jerk next to him isn't helping, jostling his arm as Chris tries to drink his beer, and generally making his presence known. Turning away would mean looking in the direction of the packed dance floor, and even in the dim light Zach would be instantly visible, so yeah. Chris keeps his eyes front and down.
"Hey." Chris looks up, suddenly aware that the jerk is talking to him, and whoa shit, that smile can't be mistaken for anything but predatory.
"Um," he says, because people might joke, but this has seriously never happened to him before. "I'm-"
"Hot?" The guy interrupts, eyes flicking over him, and right there, that's enough for Chris. "I'm Nick."
"I don't-" he starts, and then stops, because what the fuck is he meant to say? 'Thanks but no thanks'? Or 'I'm straight', maybe, but now is possibly not the time to get into that. The smile widens into a grin, because of course the jerk takes his pause for a sign he's interested, or at least not complaining, and he's leaning in when Chris feels an arm drop across his shoulders.
The grin on the guy's face snaps off instantly, and he leans back, almost enough that he falls off his own bar stool. The arm is accompanied by the rest of Zach, tall, warm and solid, and he tilts a hip to press his upper body against Chris' with an easy grace.
"You all right?" he asks, voice pitched enough that Chris can hear it over the pounding bass line. He doesn't move his arm, and Chris finds himself leaning into the touch.
"Fine," he replies, and keeps his eyes on Nick. "Just talking, right?"
"Sure," Nick says, looking worried. "No harm, no foul, okay? My mistake."
"No big deal," Zach tells him, and the tone of voice he uses isn't one Chris knows. Nick smiles tightly, swallows the last of his drink and makes a quick exit, shouldering his way through the throng of people around the bar without looking back.
"Thanks." Chris twists on his stool to look up at Zach, and feels anything else he was thinking of saying catch in his throat. Zach's face is darkly angry, eyes hooded as he watches the crowd part around Nick and then flow back into place, and the expression is fucking hot. When he turns back to Chris his face is simply amused, but that one glimpse Chris had explains why he's so good at playing the murderous villain.
And why he's in over his head, helpfully, like he needed any more pointers.
"Come here often?" Is all Zach says, though, and laughs when Chris tries to elbow him. He uses the arm he's still got slung over Chris' shoulders to pull him towards their table, pushing him into a seat and then slumping next to him to listen to whatever tall tale Anton is spinning.
Chris decides he can think just as well here, surrounded by his friends, as over at the bar, and proceeds to fall so far into his own head that it takes Zach three tries at calling his name to jerk him out of it and get him to stumble into a cab.
--
This time when Chris wakes up Zach is still there, although he's sitting up and doing something on his laptop. Chris keeps his eyes shut and tries to will himself back to sleep, but fails. Keeping his eyes tightly shut against the morning light (he knows it's morning by the angle of the rays hitting his face, and man, he has got to spend less time in Zach's bed if he knows that), he twists until he's on his side facing Zach.
"Sleep well?"
"Gnyah," Chris answers incoherently. He feels the bed shake slightly as Zach laughs silently at him, and extracts one hand from under the bedcovers to flail around in Zach's general direction. He grins sleepily at the yelp Zach makes when he lands a blow on what he assumes is Zach's arm, then pulls his hand back in. "Time is't?"
"Just past nine."
Chris cracks open an eye and is treated to the sight of Zach's forearm, dark smattering of dark hair and pale skin the only thing he can see apart from the white pillow it's resting on. "Are we very late, or did I miss something?"
"You missed the six-thirty phone call telling us not to bother coming in because there's been a lighting malfunction," Zach tells him. "No filming today, apparently."
"Oh good," he answers through a yawn, and shuts his eye. It's far too early to be worrying about the slow heat that seeing Zach's bare skin is creating deep in his belly, but there's no reason to court temptation. "More sleep?"
Zach laughs again, warm and low. "You shouldn't need more sleep. You should be used to getting up early."
"Doesn't mean I enjoy it," Chris says, and makes no move towards getting up. "What're you doing?"
"Stuff. Following links from the others, mostly."
"Anything good?" Chris lifts his head and looks at the screen as loud, bad quality sound start playing, but his eyes are hazy with sleep so he can't tell what it is before Zach hurriedly shuts it off. "The fuck?"
"Old clip of me," Zach says, and Chris grins again.
"Can't be worse than the guinea-pig one." Chris has to turn his head to hide his smile in the pillow as Zach groans, because this is easy, and he loves it.
"Who showed you?"
"Not telling," Chris answers with a laugh, and after that it can obviously only end in the sort of tickling war Chris hadn't been in since he was twelve, until he met Zach. He wins, because he fights dirty, and manages to tip Zach off the side of the bed and run downstairs while he's lying winded on the floor. By the time Zach makes it down after him they're both laughing too much to carry on, and they flop onto the couch to catch their breath.
A full day off filming for any reason is rare, so they make half-hearted plans to go on a full day hike, or something similarly energetic, but they're still there half an hour later, talking. Eventually Chris demands food, by which he means coffee, by which he means he wants Zach to tackle the temperamental coffee machine. He stays where he is while Zach disappears into the kitchen, returning with coffee and toast, and moves his feet so Zach can sit down again.
"How 'bout we jus' stay here?" He asks through a mouthful of toast.
Zach sips his coffee and lets his head drop back to rest on the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut. "Sounds good."
A comfortable silence reigns, and Chris idly wonders how far down the slippery slope you can fall without realising you're on one, because he's passed the point of no return without noticing.
--
"You're screwed," Karl tells him down the phone line. It's warm in L.A., enough that he doesn't need a jacket to sit outside a small cafe in a t-shirt, jeans and Zach's glasses, and the cheerful weather has made him brave enough to ring Karl.
"Tell me something I don't know," he says, and if it's got a sharp edge to it, then that's because he still feels sluggish and not quite awake, even after three coffees. The fourth sits in front of him, rapidly cooling as he picks at the paper sleeve around the cup.
"He's more than half in love with you," Karl tells him bluntly, because apparently this is the one day he gets serious on them all. Or maybe just Chris.
He responds with "Fuck off" before he thinks, and hears Karl's sigh gusting down the connection.
"It's true, mate. Why is anyone's guess. Sure, you're stupidly good-looking, in that pretty-but-dumb Hollywood way, but-"
"Enough, enough," Chris says, laughing in spite of himself. "It's too early for my ego to hear this."
"Your ego must be fragile if it can't cope with hearing that Zach is in love with you," Karl says dryly. "Think about it: he doesn't tell anyone he's gay - and if you say you didn't know I'll call you a liar, and a bad one to boot - but he sorted that asshole in the club out, didn't he?"
"He was-" being a good friend, and if he says that he really will be a liar, so he doesn't. "I've gotta go."
"Yeah, yeah. Sort it out, mate, or the rest of us'll get involved."
Chris cuts the call and sits there for a while, staring up at the sky through the glasses he stole from Zach's bedside table that morning.
--
They're going over the rewrites for what Chris calls the cheating scene, and what Zach calls 'the one where Spock tries to teach Kirk the value of fear, but fails' when a thought occurs to Chris. "Did I say thank you for the other day, in the club?"
Zach looks up, Spock's words dying on his lips. He doesn't look thrown, but then again, he doesn't look anything, expression blank. "Yeah."
"Well, thanks again, anyway," Chris says, feeling like a teenager again. He looks down at the new script, fiddling with the corner of a page and trying to fight back a blush.
"It was nothing," Zach says, shrugging. "I figured you needed help; you didn't look interested."
"Not in him, no." And that's it, he's thrown himself off into the deep end - not that Zach seemingly notices.
He hopes Karl will approve.
--
Breakfast before an early morning call means toast and coffee, hastily made while they take turns in the shower (except on the rare occasions when they're in their separate houses, then they grab something on-set. Chris adds that to the list of things he avoids thinking about.), which they'll generally eat standing up. There's time to sit, of course; they're never that late, but they usually stand.
Chris looks up one morning, gathering his thoughts together, hoping there aren't too many script edits to learn before shooting starts, and catches Zach licking toast crumbs off his fingers. There's no slowing-down of time, no fanfare or blinding realisation. His breath doesn't catch or his knees go weak, and he doesn't suddenly feel like everything has changed. It just settles on him, like a thick winter coat, warm and comforting, solid around him.
This is enough, Chris realises. Being with Zach like this, and it never going any further. He could carry on like this for years, if Zach will let him. Sure, there's a part of him that wants more, that wants to know what Zach's hair would feel like if he ran his hands through it, or what their sleepy Sunday mornings would be like if they lay in bed trading sleepy kisses instead of newspaper sections (although they'd probably still do that, he knows).
He can keep that secret, though, locked away, so long as this simplicity never changes. If he can still see Zach's crinkly-eyed smiles first thing in the morning, or argue with him over what pizza to order, or conspire against Simon, or do a million other tiny, domestic things with Zach, then it'll be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.
Zach finishes with the crumbs, wiping his hand on the edge of his old shirt, and looks at Chris. "Ready?" he asks, a half-smile on his lips, like it's too early to smile fully.
Chris drains the last of his coffee and moves to set the mug in the sink for later, nodding. "Let's go."
--
It's dark, sometime around one by Chris' reckoning, when Zach pads quietly into his bedroom. Chris hears him because he can't sleep all that well without Zach next to him, or at the very least nearby, and yes he knows he's screwed, but he's too tired to give a shit. Zach pauses in toeing off his shoes when Chris turns over groggily, a tall shape he can just about make out.
"Sorry," he whispers. "Go back to sleep."
"S'ok. Have fun?"
Zach's jacket and shirt come off next, landing in what manages to be a neat pile on a chair by the end of the bed. Chris doesn't know how he manages that. "Oh, sure," he says, still whispering, like it makes a difference anymore. "I love being stuck in a room with the Heroes people, forced to make small talk while Milo and Hayden try to annihilate each other."
Chris smiles, pushing himself up slightly to lean against the pillows. "Still that bad?"
"Any longer and I would've killed them myself, just to get out of there." Amusement layers his voice, low and rich in the darkness. Chris lets his eyes slide shut again, holding on to the feeling of it for as long as he can while Zach disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, Chris is half asleep again, wriggling down until he's comfy again, but he comes to when the bed dips.
"Sorry I woke you," Zach says, voice little more than a murmur. Chris yawns.
"Whatever." He can feel Zach settling down, shifting around and making the pillows shake, tugging at the covers until Chris lets go with a slight smile. "Hey," he says, not really expecting Zach to answer.
"Hmm?"
"How did you escape alive?" Zach shifts until he's facing Chris, his general shape just visible as a patch of darker shadow. Chris blinks at him, or at what he assumes is Zach's face, and feels like he'll be able to sleep now.
"Told them the wife was waiting for me," he answers, sleep already thick in his tone, and it was probably the truth.
"Charming," Chris tells him, and falls asleep between one breath and another.
--
They're scrambling around the next morning, late because they overslept, and it takes several minutes for Chris to realise that the reason he can't find the shirt he knows he set out the night before is because Zach's holding it. He reaches out for it, frowning a little. "Zach?"
"Does it bother you?" Zach asks, instead of handing him the shirt. Chris lifts his eyebrows slightly, not quite awake enough to guess what he's talking about. "That people think we're, y'know..."
"Together?" Chris grabs the shirt and slides it on, shrugging as he starts buttoning it up. "Not really. Although I did get a bit freaked out when my mom asked if I was going to bring that 'nice boy' I'd met to visit them," he adds with a grin. Zach smiles slightly.
"And I guess the people that know us," he says, tone neutral and careful, like he thinks Chris is about to run away, "know that we'd be smart enough to wait until after filming and everything was done to start anything." It sounds as if he tries to make it into a joke, but there's something about his expression that stops Chris from responding in kind.
He looks at Zach, at the way he's holding himself very still and how he's looking at a point over Chris' shoulder, not meeting his eyes. Chris blinks. "Yeah," he says, mouth suddenly dry. "I think they trust us to know that that would be the best idea."
"And even though they try to interfere, they just want what's good for us." Zach finally glances at him, and Chris can't help the grin that spreads across his face.
"Waiting is the sensible, mature thing to do," he tells Zach as solemnly as he can manage, and feels ridiculously happy when he sees an answering grin pull at the corners of Zach's mouth. They stand in the bedroom looking at each other like a pair of fools, not saying anything, until Zach's cell interrupts with the sound of a text arriving. He grabs it from the bedside table, scanning the message before gathering up the rest of his things while Chris resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets and start whistling something jaunty
"John says we're going to be late." He tosses Chris his jacket, waiting as he pulls it on, then they hurry down the stairs and out to his car. Chris leans back in his seat, watching Zach drive, and feels ready for anything Kirk needs to do that day.
"Hey."
"Mmm?"
Zach gives him a look out of the corner of his eyes, his lips tilted up in a knowing smirk. "Karl, right?"
Chris laughs. "Yeah. Zoe?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
♣