Title: Second Chances
Author:
evening_batPairing: Chuck/Bryce, hinted Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 430
Warnings: One naughty word?
Summary: Some things are hard to get over. Some people, you never get over.
Notes: Response to
this prompt over on
comment_fic.
Second Chances
”I don’t understand why you don’t just go back,” Neal complained, pouring himself another glass of wine.
Bryce scoffed. “I can’t just go back,” he retorted. “Even if they hadn’t thought I was dead for the last two years, he just married her. I can be a selfish bastard but I’m not about to step in the middle of that.”
“So get over him!” Neal exclaimed, using the empty bottle to emphasize his words. “I know you had a huge thing for him but come on! He’s not the only cute geek on the planet! And she’s not the only hot spy,” he added. “If she’s the one that’s got you drinking yourself legless.”
“Nah,” Bryce chuckled sadly, lifting his glass and taking a healthy swig. “It was always him.”
“So?” Neal sat back on the couch with his newly refilled glass and nudged Bryce in the side. “Like I said, not the only geek in the sea. Go find someone new.”
Bryce grimaced at him. “It’s not that easy,” he protested feebly.
Neal snorted. “Easier than me having to listen to you whine about it,” he retorted.
They both heard the easier than me being left behind when your broken heart gets you killed for real behind Neal’s complaints.
“You, of all people, are telling me to get over it and move on?” Bryce snapped defensively, instantly regretting it as pain flitted across Neal’s carefully irritable expression. He reached out and laid his free hand over Neal’s in silent apology.
Neal clutched at him tightly for a moment before he answered. “Yeah, I’m telling you to move on,” he replied steadily. “Who better?”
Bryce sighed heavily. “It doesn’t work that way. Sometimes I think you only fall in love once.” He’d sure never had any luck getting past falling so damn hard for Chuck.
“That’s bullshit,” Neal said sharply, angry enough that profanity spilled off of his wine-loosened tongue. “Tell me that you know that’s crap.”
“What, you think everyone’s lucky enough to find someone like your FBI man and his wife to ease us past our lost loves?” Bryce asked, retreating to sarcasm. He didn’t begrudge Neal whatever happiness he’d found but he wasn’t about to let him paint both their lives with the same rose-coloured brush.
Neal just looked at him, eyes solemn and sorrowful. “I don’t think you’ll ever find out if you keep your eyes closed.”
Bryce considered that. He raised his glass. “Fair enough. To lost loves and second chances?”
“Cheers to that,” Neal replied and tapped their glasses together.
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