Date: Fri, 2 May 2008 23:30:11 -0700
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 49

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 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.

As always, apologies for an especially lackluster proofing.

Part XLIX

     "You got a delivery," Jake whispered into Chris' ear, his chest
pressing into the curve of Chris' back, his hands sliding down Chris' arm,
thumb running over a nipple on the way down.

     Chris mumbled in response, burying his face in the pillow, holding
onto the last vestiges of sleep.  Jake kissed his ear, "Get up, Chris," he
whispered, "you're going to want to see this."

     "Jake, come on, I'm so damn tired," Chris groaned, "you kept me up all
night."

      Jake's hands pulled Chris tight against him, "You weren't complaining
then," Jake said, "or this morning."

     "Who is it from?" Chris asked as he pulled Jake's arms tight around
him, settling back into the depression in the mattress, feeling the warmth
of Jake's body on his skin.

     "I don't know, six big boxes," Jake said, kissing Chris' neck, slowly
rolling him over to kiss his lips, their hips grinding together, Jake's
fingers sliding across Chris' naked skin.  Chris kissed him softly, pressed
their chests close.

     "I'm not expecting anything," Chris said softly, his lips brushing
Jake's, "but now that you got me up, we might as well..." he paused, "start
the day off right."

     "We already did," Jake said, smiling.

     "Your day might have started," Chris whispered, "but mine's starting
right now."

     "Yeah?" Jake asked, his hand pushing at Chris' neck, their lips
crashing together, Jake's other hand on Chris' cock, already hard, "looks
like you are."

     "Boys," they heard from the door, both of their heads snapping to the
voice.

     Chris buried his forehead in Jake's shoulder when he saw Naomi,
grateful that there was a sheet covering most of their lower bodies, "Mom,"
Jake said, chuckling nervously, "we're..."

     "Busy, I can see, but I just wanted to see how Christopher's book
looked," she said, "I'll just open one of the boxes downstairs."

     "They're downstairs?" Chris asked, his eyes shooting up to Jake's,
"that's what the delivery was?"

     "I'm assuming," Naomi said calmly, "but it could be six very large
fruit baskets."

     Chris laughed, "I can't believe it.  We'll be right down."

     Naomi smiled, turning away as Chris leaned down to kiss Jake one more
time, "What's six times thirty-six?" Chris asked.

     "A damn lot of books," Jake said, "get dressed, she's probably looking
through the fridge."

     Chris gave him one last quick kiss before he bounded off the bed,
rushing to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.  A few minutes
later they came down the stairs together, saw two mugs of coffee on the
island in the kitchen, Naomi already sorting through the newspaper.  "It's
lunchtime to the rest of the world, but I suppose it's breakfast for the
two of you."

     "Thanks for the flowers, Mom," Chris said, running his fingers over
the papery blossoms she'd set in a clear vase near the sink, "and you were
right, those fruit baskets are far too extravagant.  I'll have to send them
back."

     Jake mussed Chris' hair, fingers lingering on the back of his neck,
"They want you to sign them?  What's the deal?"

     Nodding, Chris took a sip of his coffee, "That's the usual drill."

     "This is outstanding," Naomi said, fingers running over the dust
cover, the black paper smooth, white text simple and plain.  No flashy
pictures, no frills, just a straightforward cover for a book Chris figured
would throw everyone for a loop.  He'd never done a book that needed
credits, that quoted dozens of other books, nothing that even attempted the
scope of encompassing every book he'd felt left a mark, mainstream or
obscure, English or translated, new and old, it was all there.  Wesley had
gone to hell and back compiling that bibliography and on top of that, after
all the work, Chris felt that this book was tight and clean.  This was the
best he could do, the best he'd done in a long time.

     "Are you going to sign them Gyllenhaal?" Jake asked.

     "How about Chris-squiggly line-L-squiggle, G-something illegible?
Because that's what it'll look like."

     Naomi and Jake both chuckled, "That's what your signature looks like
these days," Naomi noted, "Christopher, I am immensely proud of you.  This
is unbelievable."  She kissed the top of his head and Chris felt relief
pour down his body.  If Naomi liked it, it was definitely good enough.

     "Thank you," Chris said, "I couldn't have done it without your help."

     "I'm no muse," Naomi said, and Chris could almost see her blush, "I
just broke up your long sentences."

     "Mom, you want to get some food?" Jake asked, pulling her into hug,
kissing her cheek lightly.

     "I'll let you boys get back to your celebration," she said, "I just
wanted to give my congratulations."

     "Thanks for everything," Chris said, "everything."

***

     Jake picked up a copy of the book, Chris' half-legible signature
already inside it, the date written in perfectly formed numerals right
underneath, not that day's, but the date of publication, though as Jake
would later find, Chris had jumped around, his wandering mind uneasy with
writing the same one over and over.  He hefted it in his hand, Chris still
sitting at the coffee table, legs crossed, patiently signing each one.
Sighing, Jake flipped it over, like everyone would do at the bookstore,
scanning the back, noticing that the expensive prix fixe lunch he'd had
with Mishiko Kakutani paid off--she'd given him an outstanding review in
the New York Times and blurbed the back of his this book.  Were his other
books had many, this had only three, the aforementioned Ms. Kakutani,
another from the New York Review of Books, and the last, from Ian McEwan,
who'd, for reasons unknown to both Chris and Jake, sent a card
congratulating Chris on writing what he called, "the future of all
fiction."

     "It's so hot," Jake complained, sliding the book back onto the growing
stack by the sofa.

     "It's May," Chris said, but he didn't deny it.  The cool Spring
weather had broken again, the sun shining down on the whole city, heat
radiating off everything, creating tiny mirages above ever car and every
street, it was like Los Angeles was under a magnifying glass.  Even the
ocean breezes seemed to do nothing but spray hot salt into the air.

     "It's hot," Jake said again, Chris' answer not explaining anything.

     "Go down to the water," Chris said, putting his pen down.  He started
shoving the signed books back into their box.

     "Too crowded," Jake said, staring up at the ceiling.  There was a
pause, then the sound of Chris tearing the packing tape off another box of
books, "How much more do you have?

     "Two boxes," Chris said.  Jake lifted his head, saw Atticus and Boo
walk through the room, plopping themselves down on their bed, yawning
before arranging themselves into to perfect donuts of lazy fur.

     "It's so fucking hot," Jake said, finally getting up off the sofa.  He
fiddled with the thermostat and Chris heard the metallic hum of the air
conditioner come on.  It was shoddy at best, never working when they needed
it, but just hearing the sound seemed to cool him down.  Jake resumed his
position on the sofa, arm thrown across his forehead, a long sigh coming
from his mouth.

     The air conditioner stopped, a loud metallic bang making the dogs'
ears perk, but they'd all heard it before.  Chris turned to look at Jake,
who was already rolling his eyes, "You're kidding me."

     "Why don't you take a shower?  Have a beer?  What's bothering you?"

     Jake rolled his head over, his eyes catching Chris', "I...it's hot."

     "Yeah, you've established that," Chris interrupted, setting his pen
down, leaning back against the armchair, he cracked his fingers and shook
out his wrist.

     "I'm going to have a beer."

     "What is going on?"

     "You tell me."

     Chris' forehead wrinkled.

     "Where's James?  Did you guys have a fight?"

     "Is that really what you're thinking?"

     Jake shrugged, "I'm not thinking about him.  Are you?"

     "You are if you asked," Chris said, "and, if you want to know, I have
no idea where he is.  He just said he had some stuff to work on and I
haven't seen him since."

     "I was looking for a pen last night, walking upstairs on my phone and
I needed to write down this phone number.  I was right by your office, so I
went in," Jake started, "opened up that drawer and found pen just fine even
though your desk is a mess."

     "Okay," Chris said, pushing his Sharpie back and forth between his
hands.

     "I found this note, some scraggly jagged writing and there it was at
the bottom.  James McAvoy.  I didn't read all of it."

     "Jake..."

     "What are these 'transgressions' that he talked about?  And coming
back?  What's that about?  And who uses words like transgressions?"

     "Jake..."

     "Chris, what the hell is he talking about?"

     "I don't know," Chris said flatly, straightening up, his back taut and
the muscles in his jaw tight, "I didn't read it all.  Honestly."

     Jake huffed, "I can't fucking stand him.  You knew right from the
start.  There was something about him, the way he talked or the way he
looked at...he was just..."

     Chris waited.

     "Never mind."

     Chris got up to his feet and walked out to the back deck, the hot heat
on his skin, the bright sun making him squint, his body still tense.  He
leaned down, forearms against the faded wood.  He suddenly wanted a
cigarette.  He closed his eyes and turned his head upwards, smiling as the
bright orange of his eyelids seemed to burn with the light.  He heard the
wood creak as Jake came out.  He leaned back against the railing, took the
sunglasses Jake offered.

     "Sometimes what you don't say is pretty fucked up," Chris said.

     "I didn't mean to."

     "Still, you did."

     "Come here," Jake whispered, pulling Chris close.

     Chris pulled away, slipping from Jake's grasp.  He sat down on one of
their padded chaise lounges, "He's not even my type.  Short.  British.
Uses big words."

     "He's not short."

     "Shorter than you."

     "Not by much," Jake said.  Chris didn't say anything, didn't even look
up at him.  "I have you now, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't.  Have
you, I mean."

     "Sometimes you want something really bad.  But then you get it and the
feeling just sort of disappears."

     "I have you and I still want you, I don't know what it's like not
wanting to be with you."

     Chris finally looked up at him.  Even through their sunglasses he
could see Jake's confusion, his apologetic expression.  Jake could never
really hide his emotions, not to Chris.  "You have me.  Nobody is going to
come between us, Jake.  Never."

     He could almost see the relief rushing through Jake, surprised himself
when he hugged Jake tight, his nose in Jake's neck, Jake's in his hair, his
hands holding them together.  "It's just him, Chris, he's just so...goddamn
it."

     "I'm sorry," Chris said, "I never meant to make you feel anything like
that."

     "I know, I know," Jake said, "I know.  You don't have to apologize for
anything."

     "I want to go in the water, I don't care how crowded it is," Chris
said, "it looks too good."

***

     Jake winced as he held the door open, pain shooting up his leg.  "I
told you to let me get the door," Chris said, holding it open wider and
ushering Jake inside, "I'm guessing you don't want to be climbing the
stairs."

      Not answering, Jake headed towards the living room, settling down on
the couch, propping his bad ankle up on a pillow.  He struggled to pull his
hoodie off, the fabric catching the arm of the sofa.  He heard Chris set
something down on the coffee table before helping him pull it off.  Jake
watched as Chris yanked off his shoes, rolled the hem of his right leg up
and examined the bandage.  There was a glass of water on the table, his
painkillers right next to it.  "Thanks," Jake said before swallowing a
pill.

     "How bad is it?"

     "I'm okay," Jake said.  He smiled when Chris rubbed his foot, couldn't
remember if Chris had ever even done that before.

     "Are you really?"

     "Hurts like hell."

     "Because you're a dumbass."

     Chucking, Jake closed his eyes, letting Chris' hands work his gimp
foot, "Blame your buddy Topher."

     "You guys play rough," Chris said, "and it's not his fault."

     "You're always on his side," Jake joked, "I'm going to be out of
commission."

     "No way, I can just straddle you," Chris said, looking up at Jake, "up
down, up down, we're done.  We've done it before."

     Jake smiled, "I might just crash here tonight."

     "Jake Gyllenhaal rushed to emergency room," Chris said, mimicking a
newscaster, his voice taking on faux serious airs, "thousands of concerned
citizens wonder: will that ankle be making appearances?  Will that ankle be
on Oprah?"

     "If I make it up, I don't know if I can make it down tomorrow.  I
might be stuck up there with a swollen ankle and half a limp."

     "Does that mean I have to ask Topher to be my date?  He doesn't have a
limp.  He looks great in a tux."

     "Shit, when is that?"

     "Tomorrow," Chris said, "but I don't know, you could bring crutches
into the spotlight, I think they're an underappreciated accessory."

     Jake rolled his eyes, "I'll be there.  I'll look like shit, but I'm
there."

     "You're not going to look like shit.  Do you need anything?"

     "I'm good," Jake said, nodding, "I need you to not treat me like I'm
handicapped."

     "Then stop acting like you are.  You don't need more water?"

     "I could use my book," Jake said, "and a kiss."

     Chris got up gingerly, making sure not to touch Jake's foot again,
"I'll be right down with it."

     "Kiss first," Jake said, pushing his fingers through his hair.  Chris
leaned down and their lips met, soft and sweet.

     When he came downstairs, Jake's book in hand, dozens of pages
earmarked, Boo had already hopped up onto the couch.  Chris pat his head
softly and set the book down on the coffee table, sitting down next to it.
Jake looked tired and uncomfortable, but he smiled nonetheless when their
eyes met.  "Am I going to have to sleep down here on the couch tonight?"
Chris asked, leaning over to run his fingers over Jake's cheek.

     "I'll get up there eventually," Jake said softly, shutting his eyes.
Chris watched as Jake settled into the cushions of the couch, "In case I
forget to tell you: I'm really proud of you.  Really really proud."

***

     "I wanted to talk to you," Chris said, "because of anyone, I think you
and I know what it's like to keep something inside."

     "Jo knows everything now.  I had to tell him after what happened."

    "Oh," Chris said, sitting back in his chair.  He'd forgotten all about
that already.  He glanced back into the house, Jake still sleeping on the
sofa, "He sleeps through everything," he said softly.  He figured it was
the painkillers.

     "Yeah, sorry about that," Topher said, following Chris' gaze, "guy
just needs to know when to plant a jump shot."

     "We all fall into patterns," Chris said, "all of us, right?"

     "We're all human."

     Chris nodded, "I have this thing were I crush on guys I meet and I
slip up.  Infatuation leads to indiscretion."

     "Is this for your next book?  I thought you were taking a break."

     "You can't turn it off," Chris said quickly.

     "Good, you were scaring me.  If you can't keep yourself in check, none
of us can."

     "Right," Chris said, looking out at the water.  He suddenly craved a
cigarette.

     "Things like this, the whole sprained ankle take care of me thing,
make me feel like Jo and me are just playing.  You guys are real, we're
still on training wheels."

     "No," Chris said, "don't ever say that.  Don't compare what you have
to what we've got."

     "Why not?  You're the 'normal' couple.  You've got us all beat."

     "Where's Jo?"

     "We're having a 'row,'" Topher said, rolling his eyes, "I don't know
what's going on.  I don't really want to talk about it."

     "You don't?  I don't mind, I'll listen."

     Topher shook his head, "We're going to work it out."

     Chris sat back, "You guys are going to make it, not just through this,
but all the way."

     "You think?"

     "I know," Chris said, smiling.  "Do you want a copy of the new book?
Are you over me yet?"

     Topher's brow furrowed, "Of course I do.  I'd never stop reading."

     "It starts like this: 'Benjamin woke up, lit a cigarette and wiped the
sleep from his eyes, the Place de la Concorde coming into focus below his
window.  He smiled, but didn't know why.  Didn't know why he smiled or why
he was in Paris.  Didn't even know his name.  Shrugging, he blew the smoke
out the crack of the window..."

     "Impressive," Topher said, "very good.  I hear good things about it.
Nothing but good things, actually."

     "I...yeah, I worked really hard to keep all the negative press down.
Killed a lot of people."

     "You always do," Topher said, smiling.

     Topher followed Chris upstairs, a glance at the sofa confirming that
Jake was still asleep.  "I have one in my office, the boxes downstairs are
for my publisher or something," Chris said as they walked up slowly, "are
you going to come to the party tomorrow?  It's at the observatory."

     "They went all out," Topher said, "I should get my tuxedo steamed."

     "No, just wear anything.  It's no big deal."

     Chris pulled the book off his desk, "You and Jonas can share."

     "I still think about what would have happened if I had the guts to
call you that first day," Topher said softly, "I think Jo can feel it.
He's not stupid.  Nobody wants to be runner-up."

     "You said you didn't want to talk about it."

     "I just keep coming back to this, Chris and I think there's only one
way to stop and that means choosing."

     "I'm your friend, Topher, and I need you to be that.  The whole time
we've been going through this, it comes down to more than that first day.
You always talk about how different we are, East coast-West coast, only
child this and that, Jake and I, we like that we're different but we can
talk about how much we have in common.  Please don't say what I think
you're going to."

     "Chris, you said it, this is the real thing.  I really can't lose
him."

     "Where does that leave me?  I can't be Jonas' friend either?  You're
just dropping me?  Like that?  After everything between us?"

     "Did he say that?  I don't...Jonas isn't like that."

     "No, but I really think that's what's bothering him.  It can't be
anything else, Chris."

     Chris nodded, "If that's what you think, then you just do what you
have to do," he said softly.  He looked at Topher, saw the confusion and
the determination all at once.  Sighing, he took a step back.

     "I'm sorry, Chris.  I thought maybe we could be friends, but you know
it wasn't ever like that.  Don't hate me."

***

     "Are you alright?" Chris asked as he watched Jake amble up the stairs,
both hands gripping the banister.

     "Tired," Jake said, even though he'd just woken up from his nap, "just
going to get into bed."

     "You don't want anything to eat?"

     Jake shook his head as he kept going up, finally reaching the landing
as Chris trotted up behind him.  "I'm okay.  Just need to lie down some
more.  These pills are killer."

     "Let me just get the stuff off of the bed for you."

     Jake stumbled into the bathroom and Chris heard the faucet run as he
tossed extra pillows to the floor.  It couldn't have been more than fifteen
minutes since Topher left and Chris was still reeling from what he'd said.
They were nothing but friends, at least to him, but even those lines had
been blurry.  He felt betrayed, felt stupid for feeling betrayed, after
all, they were just friends.  But he'd known Topher longer than Jonas,
there was more history; and Topher just dropped him.

     "Aren't you tired?" Jake asked as he lumbered towards the bed.

     "A little," Chris said, pulling the sheets halfway down, "a lot."

     "Come to bed with me."

     "Let me just get changed," Chris said.  But Jake had already hobbled
onto the bed, pulling him down.

     "No," Jake said groggily.  He was already half asleep, Chris saw,
whatever medication the doctor had given him treating Jake's consciousness
as well as the pain in Jake's ankle.

     "I have to," Chris said kissing his forehead softly, "change."

     "No.  Don't change anything.  I like you how you are."  Chris let
himself be pulled down beside Jake, their bodies coming together, Jake's
chest against his back, his stiff jeans brushing against Jake's legs.

     "I..."

     Jake shushed him, "Go to sleep."

***

     "You look good," Jake said, watching as Chris pulled up to the valet
station.  It was always weird watching him drive, how he almost exaggerated
every motion like he was still learning.

     "Thanks," Chris said automatically, "you've seen this before.  It's
the one I always wear."

     "No tie tonight."

     "You're wearing the one I wanted to wear."

     "You can wear it," Jake said.

     "It's fine," Chris said, already getting out of the car.  He opened
the trunk to grab Jake's crutches before tossing the keys to the valet,
"Can you park it somewhere close?  I don't know how long we're going to be
staying."

     "What do you mean?  It's your party," Jake said, leaning onto the
crutches as Chris closed the car door behind him.

     "I don't want to make you stay if you're not comfortable," Chris said,
looking at him, making sure he was all set to go inside.

     "I'm going to be fine," Jake said as he followed Chris into the
observatory.  They were late, as usual, but Chris had a feeling that Wes
and Celeste had given them a modified schedule.  It didn't look crowded yet
and nobody inside looked familiar.  Their friends would know better than to
get there on time.

     Chris reached over and smoothed Jakes' tie and buttoned his jacket,
smiling as Jake chuckled, mouthing a quick 'thank you' before they walked
inside. They walked a few steps and Chris leaned in close, "You look really
good.  Let me just find Celeste really quick and I'll be right back."

     "I can take care of myself," Jake said, "this is about you."

     Turning on his heels, Chris rolled his eyes, "I'm not the one in
crutches."

     "Looks like your girl found you," Jake said, motioning down the
entryway.  Chris turned and saw Celeste rushing towards them, her short
dress flowing beautifully behind her.

     "I can't believe you're here on time," she said before eyeing Jake's
crutches, "tell me you're okay."

     Jake nodded, "Just get me to the bar."

     Relief washed over Celeste's features, "Turnout should be great
tonight.  I just got confirmation from your buddies in New York, looks like
they flew out just for this little party."

     "My GQ guys?" Chris asked.

     Celeste nodded, "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked Jake.

     "Let's go inside," Chris said, ushering Jake along.

     Chris walked slowly beside Jake, the observatory completely done up
with flowers and candles, white everywhere, not a single one of his books
in sight.  It was exactly what Chris had talked about, a book party that
wasn't like a book party.  He just wanted everyone to have a good time on
his publisher's dime.  "This looks great," Jake said, obviously impressed,
"really good."

     The room was still buzzing with the wait staff rushing through it,
deciding who carried what and where they'd carry it, someone running around
with a lighter making sure all the candles were lit.  "I never thought I'd
get this," Chris said, "a restaurant maybe, Barnes and Noble for sure, but
a book release at the Griffith Observatory with GQ and Jake Gyllenhaal,
what did I do to deserve this?"

     "All in here," Jake whispered, leaning over to kiss Chris' temple,
"you deserve all of this."

     "Do you want something to drink?"

     "Stop worrying about me.  I want you to have a good time tonight."

     "You can't drink with your medicine, can you?" Chris asked, fingers
fixing a few stray hairs on Jake's forehead, "so you won't be having that
good of a time."

     "Coke," Jake said, "I'll be throwing those back tonight."

     "You can't drive with your bum foot so I can't be throwing anything
back tonight either," Chris said, grinning as Jake rubbed his leg with the
end of his crutch, "and that is definitely not sexy."

     "Go be famous," Jake insisted, "just for tonight."

     Chris came back a minute later, two Cokes in his hand, "They had the
glass bottles, how cool is that?"

     "Nothing but the best for my guy," Jake said.  He motioned Chris
closer and gave him a quick kiss, "I don't want to see you for a while.
You've got to mingle, not entertain your lug of a man."

     "Stop talking about my husband like he's some sort of inconvenience,
I'd love him no matter how disabled he was," Chris said.

     Celeste pulled Chris away, "I'll keep him occupied," she said softly,
"but people are starting to get here.  You've got to do your thing."

     "You guys say that like I know what I'm doing," Chris said, smiling
nervously, "I'm...I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

***

     "Parties and photographers, booze and women, this is what everything
thinks life is like for us, isn't it?" Jonas asked, leaning close to Chris'
ear.

     "I'm so glad you could come," Chris said, pulling him into a hug, "you
look good, really good."

     "I don't get this dressed up for just anyone," Jonas said, grinning as
he ran his fingers over his lapels.

     "Is Topher here?"

     Jonas nodded, "Of course.  Said he wanted to apologize to Jake about
his ankle again."

     "He shouldn't have any trouble finding Jake," Chris said.  He brushed
his fingers through his hair when he noticed Jonas' hair, neatly trimmed
and combed just so.

     "I told him.  That's why he said what he did," Jonas said, their
bodies still close.

     "Shit, Jo," Chris said, stepping back, "I didn't tell Jake.  I forgot
it even happened."

     "No you didn't."

     "No," Chris ceded, "but I didn't really do anything."

     "Fair dos," Jonas said, "I think.  But I didn't ever want him to just
cut you out."

     "He's all talk," Chris said, half-believing what he said, "he needs
me.  Who else is he going to go running with?  He likes watching our dogs."

     "He likes spending time with you," Jonas said.

     "I like spending time with him."

     Jonas watched Chris turn around, his eyes focusing on the city below
them, thousands of lights glittering against the black expanse of buildings
and streets.  Los Angeles always looked better at night, when the dirt and
the smog faded and everything looked like a grid of lights, like
constellations, hints of possibility.  "It's beautiful," Jonas said,
"nothing like that in Ireland.  Not Dublin, not even close."

     "I never thought I'd like it here," Chris said, "not after...well, I
didn't think I could live in the city."

     "You're doing pretty well for yourself."

     "You're helping," Chris said, "you and Topher.  Without you guys, I'd
be sitting in a corner, pathetic, crying.  Lonely."

     "You wouldn't be.  You have Jake."

     "It's not enough.  Well, he's there for some things, but he can't be
everything."

     "Sometimes you've got to look elsewhere for inspiration, I suppose."

    Chris turned around, startled to see Jonas so close to him.  They were
toe-to-toe and Chris could feel his breathing stop as Jonas' hand came up,
brushing his hair back off his forehead.  They looked at each other for a
few long minutes.  Chris could smell Jonas' cologne, his eyes shutting for
a split second as he took one deep breath, his fingers reaching out to
touch Jonas', "I should get back inside.  But, thanks, for everything
you've done."

     He leaned forward, kissing Jonas' cheek softly, smiling the tiniest
bit to feel the scratch on his cheek, his arms pulling Jonas into a tight
hug, "I haven't done anything."

     "No, you inspire me.  And I can't say thank you enough for that.  I
couldn't have written this book without you."

***

     "I never had to go through that," Jake said, smiling, "Chris was sort
of a loner."

     "Sort of?  He didn't have family or friends for you to go through this
with, what did he have?  A dentist?  A barista?"

     "Are you going to see them?" Jake asked, scanning the crowd over
Topher's shoulder.  Chris wasn't anywhere.  Not that he could see through
people.  The observatory was packed, everyone shoulder to shoulder.

     "I don't know," Topher said, shrugging, "it's a long flight."

     "Seems serious, though, you and him."

     "No," Topher sighed, "just seems that way.  He's not serious about it,
I'm just sort of cruising."

     Topher saw Jake smile at someone over his shoulder, raising his bottle
of Coke and waving with his other hand.  Craning his neck over, he didn't
recognize the person but went through the motions.  "Who is that?" Jake
asked, smile still on his face.

     "No clue," Topher said, settling back in his chair, "I thought you
did."

     "Where's your boy?"

     "Where's yours?"

     Jake chuckled, "I'm his backup today.  This is about him."

     "How's that?  Being the one in the background?"

     "I wish it happened more," Jake said, eyes still jumping from face to
face in the crowd.

     "That's great," Topher said, "really...great."

     Jake cocked an eyebrow, "Is that what the 'cruising' is about?"

     Unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, Topher looked Jake in the eye, "I
didn't want to come here tonight," he said, "Chris probably didn't tell
you, but I said some things to him.  I would take them back if I could, but
I mean...I can't."

     "What?  I don't follow."

     "I'm not making sense.  I don't follow my own...whatever.  I just
don't know anymore.  Jo is great, but I honestly can't see myself with him
forever."

     "You don't think about forever," Jake interrupted, "not right now.
It's too early."

     "You and Chris were all about forever, always, all that."

    "We're different, way different.  I knew right away."

    "So what am I supposed to do?  I didn't know right away.  When does it
click?"

     "That's up to you, isn't it?" Jake asked, shrugging, "I just...we got
lucky."

     "Both of you always say that," Topher said, "and it doesn't help."

     Chris slid into the chair next to Jake, leaning in close to kiss him
on the cheek, his hand rubbing Jake's side, "Hey, having a good time?"

     "Hey you," Jake said, grinning, "look at this.  Got your little
bottles of Coke right next to your big shot Hollywood stars."

     "With big egos to match," Chris said.  Jonas slid in beside Topher a
second later, four flutes of champagne coming to the table right after
that.  Chris watched as Jonas and Topher exchanged a nervous glance.

     Chris pushed his glass from hand to hand, watching the bubbles in the
flickering candlelight, "Guys, sometimes I wonder what would have happened
if things weren't like this.  If I never met Jake, never met Topher, what
would be going on if I was just writing and signing at Barnes and Noble
back in Santa Barbara, if I never got into this whole thing."

     "Why do you think that?" Jake asked, pulling Chris close, his hand
gripping Chris' knee, he leaned in close, whispering as his lips brushed
Chris' ear, "I'd have found you.  I would have."

     Jonas smiled, "I believe him."

     "Well, I think that maybe I did something right to get in with you
guys, three great guys."

     "Must have," Topher said, "but the thing is, what did we do to deserve
you?"

     Everyone's eyes shot to Topher, who was looking down at his drink
silently.  Chris coughed, "No, it's definitely the other way around.  I
found the greatest guys."

     "I'll drink to that," Jonas said, raising his beer.

     "We've got a room at the Regent Beverly Wilshire," Jake said, "you
guys free for brunch tomorrow?  It's all on Chris' publisher.  Champagne
and cantaloupe?"

     Chris leaned against Jake again, hand running over his leg.  "We'll be
there," Jonas assured, "we got a room there, too."

     "Thanks to Celeste," Chris said, "she's great, right?"

     Jonas put his arm around Topher, who seemed distant.  Chris locked
eyes with him and he shrugged Jonas' arm off, "I'm going to restroom," he
said as he loosened his tie, "I'll be right back."

     "What's going on with him?" Jake asked as they all watched him weave
through the crowd.

     "He's just thinking too much," Jonas said, "not that you two would
know anything about that."  He smiled and Chris couldn't help but chuckle.
The charm that dripped from Jonas' every word never ceased to surprise him.

     "Things are good with you two?" Jake asked.

     Jonas just shrugged, "For now. I play it by ear."

     "Good idea with him," Chris said.  He leaned over and kissed Jake's
cheek again, "Tired?"

     "No way, I'm seeing this one through.  You can't leave early," Jake
said, grabbing Chris' hand.  Kissing Chris' knuckles, he smiled again, "I
am so proud of you."

     "Just doing what I do," Chris said as their lips finally came
together, "nothing new."  The party disappeared and the only things that
mattered were right there in that booth.  The world melted away and all
Jake could feel was the heat of Chris' lips on his, the way their knees
rubbed together and the almost silent sound of their hearts.  It could be
like this forever, they both thought, forever.

***

     Chris smiled, pressing his forehead to Jake's, "I love you," he
whispered, their lips coming together, Jake's hands splayed across the
small of his back, Chris' chest pressing tight to his.

     "You're too good," Jake groaned as Chris' hips ground against his,
Jake's lips on his neck.  Gasping, Chris arched back as Jake slipped his
fingers in his underwear, "too good to me."

     "I want to do something special," Chris whispered, his hands sliding
down Jake's chest.

     "It's always special," Jake said, grinning, "that's what I'm supposed
to say, right?"

     Nodding, Chris kissed him again, "I want this to be about you.
Tonight was about me, this is about you."

     "Yeah?" Jake asked, kissing at Chris' neck, "it's usually good for the
both of us."

     Chris groaned appreciatively, the sounds from his throat turning from
whimpers to a purr, "Let me do this."

     "Be my guest," Jake said, grinning, his hands up in mock surrender.
Chris smiled and kissed him again, tongues sliding together, warm and
slick.  He pulled away to nip at Jake's neck, moving to his Adam's apple,
licking a spot right under his ear.  "Right there," Jake groaned, his
fingers reaching back to grip the headboard.  Chris' hand stroked slow
circles on his stomach and he pressed their chests tighter together, lips
crashing together again.

     Lips moved lower, Chris' mouth following his fingers on Jake's
collarbones and his nipples.  Jake's breathing was deep and slow and his
eyes were shut tight, his teeth biting his lip as Chris' lips traveled
lower and lower.  "You're so worked up," Chris whispered, his voice low.

     Jake only nodded quickly, grabbing at Chris' hair.  He threw his head
back, the wood of their headboard hitting the back of his head as the wet
heat of Chris' mouth surrounded his cock.  It was hot and tight, tongue
lapping at the shaft, coming up to circle the head.  Jake's body went slack
one second and taut the next, his hips lifting up to get in deep.  Chris
groaned, sending a quake through Jake's body, his toes curling and his
fingers gripping the sheets.  Jake's breathing grew shallow, his groans
gravelly as Chris' name slipped from his lips again and again.

      Chris pulled off for a second, wiping his mouth with his hand, "Do
you want to cum in my mouth or my ass?"

     "Both," Jake said, pushing Chris back down, his neck tensing as Chris
gagged, his hands pressing hard on Jake's thighs as he slid back up.  Chris
groaned and slid down again, his hand stroking Jake's shaft, tongue and
lips working the head, flicking across his slit.  He knew exactly what to
do to get Jake to cum, but he wanted to draw this out, wanted Jake to
really feel good.  His hand slid to Jake's balls, pulling on them a little,
rolling them around, feeling them tighten as his mouth went up and down
every inch of his hard cock.

     Jake's finger tangled in Chris' hair again, pushing down lightly, his
hips rising up to fuck Chris' throat.  He rolled his head back again,
muscles tight.  Chris' eyes fluttered open in time to see Jake's chest and
stomach flex, his biceps in stark relief as he tried to hold back.  Chris
could feel it, the tension in his balls and his muscles, his own cock was
hard as he rubbed it against the mattress, still trapped in his pants.  The
taste of Jake's precum filled his mouth and he sucked harder, stroked
faster, got more in his mouth.  He bobbed a little faster and groaned, his
hand sliding across Jake's stomach and he felt it, Jake's body going
completely rigid, the hard thrust of his hips and his hands pushing down on
his head.  Cum shot into his throat and Jake let up a little, the rest of
his load landing across Chris' tongue as the both of them groaned as Chris
swallowed, licking up the shaft of Jake's dick to get every bit, eyes
locking on Jake's as he took a few deep breaths, eyes rolling back in his
head as he half-smiled, "It's always good," Jake said softly, "always."

     "That was just the start," Chris said, kissing up Jake's stomach, the
salty taste of sweat mixing with the cum already in his mouth.  Jake's body
was still a little shaky, and Chris could feel his soft cock hardening as
he slipped his own pants off straddling Jake's hips as their lips
connected.

     "So what's the main event?" Jake asked, his hands already sliding down
Chris' back, finger swirling around his hole.

     Chris gasped, pressing his forehead to Jake's, "You just sit back."

     Jake smiled and kissed him again, "Alright."

     Chris reached back and felt Jake's cock, hard and slick.  Lubed by
Jake's stealthy hands, he stroked it a few times and took a deep breath.
Jake's hands settled on his hips and Chris inched backwards his breath
catching as Jake's cock slipped into his hole.  He held his breath and
stopped, the head of Jake's cock past his ring.  Jake's tongue slid into
his mouth, both of them moving together as every inch of Jake's dick slid
deep into Chris' ass.  Chris rocked backwards, gasping as Jake's cock
grazed against his prostate.  Grunting, Chris rose up and rock back again,
watching Jake's eyes roll back, watching his forehead tighten, and the
cords in his neck strain as he struggled not to slam up.  His hips rolled
and his ass raised up a little, but Chris held him steady, making sure that
Jake wasn't straining anything, that all he had to do was sit back.  Chris
moved faster, grunting and gasping, gripping Jake's shoulders as he moved
up and down.  "Chris," Jake groaned, "so tight."  Chris squeezed his ass
even tighter, pulling a long low groan from Jake's throat.

     "Fuck," Chris whispered, Jake's cock slammed deep into him.  He
stopped moving to kiss Jake again, tongues sliding together, Jake's stubbly
cheek rasping against his skin, their breathing shallow and quick as Chris'
ass kept clutching at his dick.

     Jake gripped Chris hip, one hand sliding up his back, leaving red
marks in its wake, their chests pressed hard together, sweat slicking their
bodies.  Chris groaned as Jake's hips rose that extra bit, pushing his cock
in even deeper.  His lips went to Jake's neck and kept his ups and downs
steady, even though with every passing second, control was getting harder
and harder to maintain.  It was usually Jake's mission to last, but Chris
wanted everything to happen right, he wanted to get Jake to go first,
wanted to see Jake's face as he shot, wanted to shoot his load all over
Jake's chest.

     "Close," Jake groaned, gripping Chris tight, "Chris, I'm...fuck."

     Chris shook his head, kissing Jake again, silencing his grunts and
groans.  He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting there too.  Jake's
hair was dark with sweat, stuck to his forehead and Chris was getting so
slippery that he could barely hold on.  The room seemed to shrink, the air
thick and the heat suffocating them.  Groaning, Chris went faster, jolts
flying up his back, spreading through his entire body to the tips of his
ears to the ends of his fingers and toes as Jake's cock slid past his
prostate again and again.

    Neither of them cared anymore, any sense of restraint falling by the
wayside as Jake bit and sucked at Chris' collarbones, pulling a gasp from
Chris as he froze, his body rigid as he shot his load, long strings of cum
shooting up between their heaving bodies, his chute squeezing Jake's cock,
bringing gravelly groans from his throat.

     Jake's hands splayed across the small of Chris' back, holding his
gasping body tight to his own chest and Jake felt the warmth of orgasm
spread from his groin to the rest of his body.  He shot, shot longer and
more than he could remember, every pulse shaking his entire body.  He
couldn't remember the last time he could barely stay conscious, couldn't
even keep their bodies together as they shook, orgasms racking both of
their bodies.

     Lips crashed together, Chris' hands desperately running over Jake's
biceps and shoulders.  Jake kept them together, the hair on his chest and
stomach matted with sweat and cum.  Chris pressed their foreheads together,
taking a few seconds to catch his breath, "Wow," he whispered, a smile
curling his lips.

     "No kidding," Jake said, kissing him one more time, soft and light.

     "Wow," Chris said again, falling to the side with a sharp gasp as Jake
slipped out of him.

     "Come here," Jake said, gathering Chris up in his arms, pulling them
tight together and kissing his shoulder, "just relax."

     "How's that ankle?" Chris asked, settling in the curves and contours
of Jake's body, his eyes shutting already.

     "Forgot all about it."

***

     Jake groaned and pulled Chris to him, sighing as the soft moonlight
lit their bedroom.  Chris shuffled a little and Jake watched Chris' arm
slide across his chest, soft breathing lifting goosebumps across his skin.
He thought he heard something, the same thing that woke him up to begin
with, but Chris seemed unfazed, so he just held tight and shut his eyes
again.  A deep sigh and he felt Chris shift, "Is that the phone?" he heard,
Chris half stretching, half digging deeper into Jake's body.

      "That's the phone," Jake said, starting to slip out from the sheets,
"what time is it?"

     Chris craned his neck while holding Jake still to look at the digital
numbers on Jake's night table.  Without his glasses, it was just a blur.
Throwing his arm over his eyes, he turned and sunk into the warmth of
Jake's body, "I'll get it."

     Jake groaned and Chris reached over him for the phone, "Yeah, hello?"
Jake shut his eyes and heard nothing but rambling, "Yes, no...I'll, I mean
we'll be right there."

     "What's going on?" Jake asked, voice raspy and dry, "who is it?"

     "It's your sister," Chris said softly, his fingers coming to Jake's
lips to keep him still, "she's okay.  It's Peter, he's at the hospital.
Something fell on him at the set."

     Jake grimaced, "Shit."

     "No, he fell on something," Chris corrected himself, "tripped on
something.  He hurt his nose and his shoulder, his arm."

     "Oh shit," Jake repeated.  He shuffled out from under Chris and the
sheets, leaving Chris with the phone.

     Except for his ankle, things had been going a little too smoothly, he
thought, blinking as the bathroom light came on, his hands automatically
turning on the cold water.  He hung his head for a second, taking a few
deep breaths before splashing the water onto his tired face.  Peter was
important to both of them, a brother to him and a mentor to Chris, to both
of them.  Jake knew that Peter and Chris talked all the time, that there
were a lot of things that Chris asked Peter before he even asked Jake.  He
respected that, since most of the things were about him and he did the same
with Maggie; neither of them would deny that Peter was an integral part of
their lives.  And to see someone so strong to the both of them get hurt
wasn't easy to take.  Peter was supposed to be immune to things like
reality.

     "He's at Cedars," Chris said, "it'll take what...half an hour?"

     "We can get there pretty quick," Jake assured him, "is he okay?"

     "Just banged up from what Maggie told me," Chris said, "but probably
putting on a front, you know him."

     Nodding, Jake looked up at him, face flushed, "He's going to be okay."

    "I'm just going to get some clothes on," Chris said, ""I'll warm the
car up."

     "Come here first," Jake said, straightening himself.  Chris wrapped
his arms around Jake's shoulders, kissing him softly, feeling himself calm
down just a little for those few seconds, "He'll be okay.  We've just got
to get there."

     Jake pulled away, but Chris leaned in one more time, their lips
brushing before Chris kissed him deeply, their bodies fitting together,
curve for curve, motions automatic and instinctual.  "They're waiting,"
Chris said, swallowing hard, "I hope he's not too...you know.  I hope he
hasn't done anything permanent."

     By the time they got to the hospital, Peter had fallen asleep.  Maggie
motioned them inside, but Jake motioned her out into the hall.  "Where's
Aaron?" Chris asked.

     "With mom and dad," she said.

     "Feel like we haven't seen that kid in a while," Chris said, "miss the
little guy."

     "He's not so little anymore," Maggie said, smiling weakly.

     "And Peter?" Jake asked.

     "He's definitely going to be okay," Maggie said, "just a scare.
Broken rib, arm, collarbone.  I'm just glad it wasn't worse."

     They could both sense her breaking down, her stoic demeanor cracking
for just a second.  A deep breath before either of them could react and she
was fine.  It made Chris admire her even more.

     "Do you need anything?" Jake asked, "we could come over for dinner or
something?  Help out?"

     Maggie sighed, "Mom and dad can watch Aaron tonight and...I...can you
guys watch him this weekend? I don't want him to be here all weekend and
they have that thing in New York."

     "It's no problem," Chris said, "anything."

     "Come on," Jake said, pulling Maggie into his arms, "let's get you
washed up."

     Chris watched Jake and Maggie walk down the corridor, glaringly white
with the hospital lights, both of them taking slow steps.  Jake was still
favoring his ankle, Maggie holding him up.  It was strange to see them that
way, supporting each other, both hurt.

     He followed a nurse into Peter's room, watched as she checked some of
the beeping machines, scribbled something on the clipboard hanging from the
end of the bed.  "Peter?" he asked softly, "hey?"

     Peter didn't move, his chest rising with steady up and downs.  "Please
wake up," Chris whispered, "I need to know that you're okay."

     "I'm okay," Peter whispered, his eyes still shut.  Chris sighed, took
the first real breath since they got to the hospital, "Just hurts a
little."

     "You want me to ask someone for something?"

     "No," Peter said, his eyes finally opening.  He seemed to grimace, but
Chris couldn't tell, he was so swollen and bruised, "just stay here.  It's
not that bad."

     Chris held his hand, "You can't be like this.  You don't get hurt."

     "Sorry to let you see me like this," Peter whispered, "I didn't think
she'd get you here so fast."

     "I couldn't get here fast enough," Chris said, smoothing his hair off
his forehead, "you look like shit."

     "Feel like it, too, trust me," Peter said.

     "Let me go get Maggie," Chris insisted, "Jake's here.  They just went
to get some coffee."

     "Stay.  She'll be here."

     "Get better, okay?" Chris said, "I'll be right here."

***

     Chris was always surprised to see Aaron, mostly because it was amazing
to see how big he was.  Time always seemed to stand still for him and Jake,
especially in their little corner of the world, but Aaron was definitely
evidence to the fact that time was moving forward, that they were both
getting older.  Wiser was still up in the air, but Chris definitely felt
older, especially to hear Aaron talk about school and the things he was
doing and learning there.  But Jake didn't seem to sit back and think about
things like that, just kept smiling and talking, hanging on his every word.
There was no hiding the fact that he loved kids, this one especially, and
there was also no hiding the fact that Chris always felt a tinge of guilt
for saying what he had all that time ago.

     But as he and Jake waved from the porch, he was more sure than ever
before that giving his heart to Jake was the best thing he'd ever done.
Jake was strong when he was weak, calm when he was manic, everything that
he needed to be but couldn't.  Nobody else could ever have given him what
Jake had, he was more sure of that than ever.  "You okay?" Jake asked,
wrapping his arm around Chris' chest, "Peter is going to be fine.  He'll be
living it up, Maggie's going to be doting on him for a while."

     "Yeah," Chris said, leaning his head back onto Jake's shoulder, "it
really came out of nowhere, didn't it?  Just...wow."

     "You can't see these things coming," Jake assured him, "so um...what's
next?"

     "Laundry," Chris said blankly.  He shrugged, "I don't know."

     "Hey, he's going to be okay," Jake said, kissing the top of his head,
"the doctor said so."

     "We still need to wash clothes," Chris said, sighing, "life goes on."

     "Exactly," Jake said, "atta boy."

     "I'm not one of the dogs," Chris said, smiling, "don't talk to me like
that."

     Jake kissed Chris' neck, pulling their bodies together, "Let's go
inside, get some clean clothes dirty."

     "You mean clean some dirty clothes."

     "No, you heard me right," Jake said, pulling Chris into the house.

     Topher knocked on the door, knowing well enough that it would be
unlocked.  Rolling his eyes, he opened the door and came inside, the dogs
disregarding him, walking right by with nothing more than a passing glance.
"Guys?" he called out, "Chris?  Jake?"

     "Hey," Chris said, bounding down the stairs, "just you?  Did Jonas
come by?"

     Topher shook his head, "Hey, listen.  I'm sorry about the party and
what I said before.  It's been a while and...I realize I couldn't just drop
you.  I've missed you.  I think about you all the time."

    "Topher," Chris said, running his fingers through his hair, "I've
missed you, too.  It took you long enough."

     He slid his hands into his pockets, looking down at the floor, "It's
just, you know, me Jonas are always up and down, on and off.  I thought
maybe it was because I was distracted."

     "You want something to drink?" Chris asked, already heading towards
the kitchen, "Jake is in the shower."

     "Jonas is sleeping around on me," Topher said, freezing Chris
mid-stride.

     "Don't...no," Chris said, spinning on his heels, "he wouldn't."

     "You know he has.  Look what happened between you two."

     "Just flirting, Topher," Jake said, coming down the stairs, towel
thrown across his shoulders, "he does it to everyone.  We've all seen it."

     Chris shot Topher a glance, "Nothing's going on.  He's either with you
or over here.  He doesn't know that many people."

     Topher only sighed, nodding.  "You guys...I don't know."

     "I do," Jake said, patting him on the back, "nothing's going on.
Chris would know, I would know.  Nothing's changed."

     Jake's blue eyes were clear and earnest, Topher noticed.  If anyone
would know, it would be Chris, he was the guy that held them all together.
He'd be heartbroken to see something happen between them, he was their
biggest cheerleader.  He watched as Jake wrapped his arms around Chris,
smiles on both of their faces, "Wanted to spend the day in bed," Jake
whispered, "but I guess I can get some steaks on.  I'm hungry all of a
sudden."

     "Yeah," Chris said before kissing Jake softly, "whatever you want.
I'll figure out something to make."

     "You guys make us look like we belong on daytime TV," Topher said,
hanging his head, "I should call him."

     "Apologize," Jake suggested, "even if you didn't do anything.  It
works."

    "My phone is dying," Topher said, sliding between his hands across the
counter, "can I borrow your cord?"

     "It's in my desk," Chris said, "top drawer."

     "I'll grab it," Jake said, shutting the refrigerator, "I have to grab
your laptop anyway."

     "For what?" Chris asked, leaning against the counter, "new recipe?
Showing me a cool YouTube video?"

     "Porn," Jake said, laughing, "fisting and shit.  There are horses
involved."

     Chris rolled his eyes, "You want eggs on your salad?" he asked Topher.

     "I'll make them," he said as they both heard Jake's footsteps on the
stairs.

     Jake half-stopped when he saw how neat Chris' desk was, pens and
pencils neat in old glass jelly jars, everything lined up just right.  Wes
must have been there, it could never stay like this other wise.  Jake
pulled out the a drawer and smiled.  The top of the desk may have looked
immaculate, but the insides were cluttered and messy, papers and notes all
shoved in haphazardly.  It wasn't a surprise, but it was sort of
unbelievable that Chris got anything done or found anything with such a
mess under his fingers.

      'Top drawer, top drawer,' Jake kept thinking, rifling through
everything. Some papers fell out and he cursed to himself, pushing Chris'
chair back and squatting down to get them.  He set them on the table and
tried to stack them, noticing one was definitely not Chris' handwriting.
He glanced at it, saw the messy half-cursive half-printed scrawl.  He sat
down, eyes scanning the page.  Then he remembered.  He'd seen it before.
Biting his lip, he read line after line, slowly taking in every word.

     If Chris wasn't going to read it all, he would.

---

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