Archive of Our Own

There was no sunlight. There was no fucking sunlight yet, and someone was ringing his goddamn doorbell.

Noah had his head lifted, although he was still lying against the length of Zach's side on the bed. Zach was eyeing the time on his alarm clock – 4:27am.

What sick, perverted bastard –

The doorbell rang again, and this time Noah used Zach's thigh as a springboard to go investigate.

"Goddamn it." He gingerly rubbed near his groin, then rolled off the bed to go investigate for himself. If it was some strange serial murderer (politely ringing doorbells before attacking the hapless victims inside), then he would seriously twist the neck of the motherfucker. He was so not in the mood for this. Not at all.

He reached the door in time to peep through the keyhole and see Chris' retreating figure on his doorstep.

Damn, damn, dammit. He was definitely not in the mood for this.

"Hey," Zach croaked out, as he opened the door and looked at Chris' back. When Chris turned around, his blue eyes glistened and looked a bit sheepish in the dark, and definitely did not meet Zach's own.

"Um, sorry, I – I realized this morning that I left my car keys here last night. So, um –"

Zach looked behind him on the couch, and sure enough, there were a set of keys caught between two cushions. He took the few steps to reach them, but then took a moment to feel the weight in his palm.

He supposed that last night, Chris had been too busy beating a strategic retreat to check his pockets. Panic sometimes did that to a person. It was a good thing, then, that Chris lived so close by.

A horn went off behind him, and Zach went quickly back to the door; dropping the keys in an open hand. He noticed the taxi at the end of the walkway, waiting impatiently, but Chris didn't seem to want to move.

Zach took a deep breath. "Have fun in Colorado."

Chris nodded, and then looked to open his mouth –

"Goodbye, Chris. Have fun with your family." With that, Zach closed his door on the shocked expression and leaned against it, until he heard the taxi speeding away.

Way to go, Quinto. He rubbed his forehead. Way to-fucking go.

He tried to sleep for a few more hours, but it was no good. Noah snored gently at his side, and Harold had made a pincushion of his chest. Zach scratched an ear lightly as he looked over at the alarm again - 9:07. In nine hours he would have his holiday party, and he already felt exhausted.

Fucking Chris. Fuck him.

He nudged Harold's belly before moving to roll off the bed. Noah groaned in protest, and Harold gave Zach the evil eye. A part of Zach wished he could just be a cat and sleep all day; not having a long list of errands to do this Saturday morning for his Spring party.

Zach had entered the hallway when his cell phone lit up, and he read the text message; stamped March 20th, 2010, 9:09 am:

You awake, bro?

Zach wondered where he went wrong with his older brother, for him to be using Californian vernacular. He shook his head as he pushed open the bathroom door, and typed back:

Yeah. What?

Zach could already guess – something to do with Ma, or his business, or just a request to call –

The phone vibrated. "What, Joe?"

"Ma's driving me nuts, Zach. She's insisting that her spidey-senses are tingling."

Zach sighed. "Joe, you're a grown man. You're supposedly turning 38 tomorrow; so you should already know that the best way to fight off Ma's weird sense is to just go along with it."

"Yeah, but she's insisting that you have some boyfriend now, and that we need to hatch a plan to get you to -"

Zach stilled. "I'm sorry, Ma's insisting what?" What was it with the world conspiring against him, today?

Joe sighed. "She woke up this morning, and announced to me over coffee that you're definitely interested in some guy. I mean, do you have -"

"No. No I don't. Not at all." Zach huffed as he leaned against the counter in his bathroom. This was fucking ridiculous.

"That's… what I thought, Zach. But she's already making, like, extra gnocchi and shit for dinner tomorrow, insisting – "

"I'll call her later, Joe." He rubbed his forehead. "Don't worry about it."

"All right, man. Just… thought you should be prepared. Or something."

Zach could hear the worry in his brother's voice, and thought it grossly misplaced. After all, their mother went on and on about sensing earthquakes that never happened, or that little Joey had fallen and gotten stuck in a well, or some stupid shit all the time. It was a mother's love from across a continent shining through, and both of them usually took it in stride. "Thanks, but don't worry about it."

"Okay, fine - I won't. I guess. So, I'll see you later then?"

"You better be here."

"Wouldn't miss it, man. Your cooking is legendary."

"Then I better get on that." He could hear Joe laugh; and then after their usual partings, hung up the phone.

Zach dug through his medicine cabinet, and then opened a bottle of aspirin.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Of course the roads were congested. What had Zach expected? A nice, easy drive to the grocery store five miles from his house, so he could pick up mustard for deviled eggs? Of course not. Of course not. What had he been thinking? Except that Kristen loved deviled eggs, and he couldn't bear to just leave them off the menu. Or that he needed cashews, since Joe was stopping by, and he knew his brother had polished off the can he bought a few days ago. (He should know better by now, even though he thought Chris had been supervising the situation.) Or that, once he started arranging fixings for a buffet-style party, that he had no mayo if someone wanted to make a ham sandwich, or ketchup, or – fuck, why did he have no fucking condiments in his fridge?

Zach wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. He could see Whole Foods just a few blocks away. He could probably park the car, walk to it, and come back with no change in the traffic. He groaned, and looked over at the empty passenger seat – Chris would probably be saying something really ridiculous right about now, to take his mind off the road rage building within. Chris had been incredibly good at that the last week. Especially when they had been stuck in freeway traffic on the way back from a florist for about an hour, and Zach had resisted the urge to ram every SUV that had cut in front of him.

"Relax." Chris had said. "They'd make a pretzel out of you in your prissy little Prius. And you don't have any mustard, anyway."

Zach threw his hands up in the air. Leave it to Chris to remember the mustard. Why had he insisted on doing the grocery shopping alone?

Because he's not your fucking boyfriend his mind threw at him, and Zach winced.

But, but – Zach wanted to throw back – Chris had done a lot of shopping with him in the past week. Even helping with the party preparations, despite Chris' family having flown to Colorado for their (ritualistic) Spring vacation the week before; and that Chris would not even be here to attend once he (ritualistically) joined them.

Zach sighed. He was an idiot. Chris hadn't done all of that solely out of the goodness of his heart. He hadn't helped with all of Zach's cooking, and party planning, and decorating because Chris also had an inner interior design fetish. And Zach inherently knew it; had taken advantage of it, even.

He was an asshole.

A horn honked behind him, and Zach looked up to see maybe five feet of space in front of him. He glared at the rearview mirror to the raging driver behind him. "What the fuck, man?" He threw up his hands, pressed the gas for two seconds, braked, and then glared at the driver again. "There, you fucking happy?"

"Chill out. It's not worth yelling about."

Zach glared at the empty seat next to him. "Why did you have to go and fucking do that, Chris? Why couldn't we just be friends? Why did you have to – "

Honk.

"I swear to fucking God." He drove another few feet, and threw himself back against the driver's seat; his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

Chris was probably in some beautiful cabin in the Rocky Mountains right about now. Enjoying a steaming cup of coffee, while looking picturesque in his stupid plaid scarf that had no redeeming thermal value whatsoever; while wearing those perfect-fitting jeans, and those stupid fucking Nikes –

He drove another five feet, and then displaced his anger by punching some radio buttons. Peppy pop music came on, and he promptly shut it off. Zach clenched his jaw, and tried to avoid the raging driver in his mirror.

Chris had no right to imaginarily chastise him right now.

Jerk.

The store had been chaos, too. (Saturday mornings at Whole Foods apparently had a beacon call for all of L.A.'s most obnoxious knee-height children, who knew?) And driving home had been worse, if that was even possible. (There was a part of him that wanted to give up driving completely, if he couldn't eco-conscientiously have a Hummer.) So there was a part of him that wanted to decry "Sanctuary, sanctuary!" once he pulled into his driveway, and saw Noah's nose pushing blinds away at the window. He was so incredibly relieved, that he didn't even care that Joe's car was blocking an easy entrance. He carried his bags inside, and slammed the door to discover Joe eating the remaining cashews at his dining room table.

"Where've you been?" Joe said with a mouthful.

"Refraining from beating the world with a spoon." He dropped the bags on the counter, and mentally strategized where to hide the new can of mixed nuts – oh, Whole Foods had been out of cashews, of course.

"Bad out there?"

He threw Joe a look as he put away the groceries. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Thought you might like the help." Joe moved towards a bag, but Zach shooed him away.

"You can start by putting away the dishes in the dishwasher. I'll need the broiler pan in there for the ham."

"You do have food for the Veggie-Lovers and Jews, right?"

Zach had, indeed, taken that into account. Considering where they lived, he had vegan food, raw food, gluten-free food, organic food – the party was humongous, like it was every year, and he wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat. But Zach was no fool, and knew most of his displaced Hollywood friends far away from home for Easter (and too many other commercial holidays to count) wanted a ham. He was known for it.

"I have a fridge full of tofu and broccoli – go take a look."

Which Joe promptly did, and then returned with a mouth full of mini quiche. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Prove it by putting away the dishes, man."

Joe grumbled while doing so. Zach unpacked and folded the remaining grocery bags, while hearing Noah's nails click on the hardwoods. He made a mental note to trim them.

"So, how's Chris?" Joe was putting the last of the silverware away in their proper compartments, trying (and failing) to look indifferent.

Zach narrowed his eyes. They were all good friends, sure. But Joe had just seen Chris three days ago, when they all had picked Ma up from the airport and went out to dinner.

"I believe he's about the same as 72 hours ago. He might smell, though."

Joe closed the silverware drawer with a sigh. "So do you."

"Yeah, but us Quintos smell of Irish clovers, or something."

"Garlic."

"Pepperoni."

"Whiskey."

Zach ticked a finger at him. "I don't think we can blame that on the Irish-Italian blood."

Joe shrugged. "So Chris probably smells like…?"

Zach narrowed his eyes. "How would I know?"

"Just a hypothetical question. Pine sol, you think?"

Like the ocean, Zach's mind supplied. Like the surf, and the earth, and – a hint of citrus.

Zach gritted his teeth. "Like I would even know."

Joe held up his hands. "No need to get defensive, bro."

Zach stared at him. "Seriously, Joe? We're from Pittsburgh."

Joe stared back in a What? gesture, and Zach rolled his eyes as he grabbed the ham out of the fridge. That was a battle for another day.

Zach's "Hell Yeah, It's Spring!" party (sometimes called the "Fuck Off, Winter!" party) was traditionally held near the Spring Equinox; usually the weekend of, or after. He normally invited about 200 people, although everyone was allowed to bring a friend. People were welcome to just drop by and have a quick bite to eat, or stay longer to chat if they liked. While Zach's house wasn't the largest, he had a patio with fairy lights and floral garlands in good weather. This year the temperature was considered on "the chilly side" – although the mid-60s in Pittsburgh would be t-shirt weather.

Zach hung lights and garlands, anyway. It would at least be festive for the smokers, like himself. That was one of the few rules at Zach's parties – the others being to have fun, eat a lot, and bring some spirits.

Which, near 6:30 when guests started to arrive, meant many bottles of wine.

Zoe had been one of the first to show up, and Zach poured her a goblet as she went into his room to leave her coat. When she came out, her strapless little black dress hugged all the right curves, and stopped just above mid-thigh.

"Like what you see, honey?" She smirked, as his eyes snapped back up to her face.

"Great dress."

Zoe laughed, and took the goblet; swirling the liquid before sniffing and taking a sip. "This was my retail therapy after I broke up with Keith. It better be great."

Zach gave a small smile. About a month ago Zoe had come over, and had cried into Chris' shoulder about "men" and "cheaters"; while Zach had made a small mountain of all the tissue boxes in his house. That had called for a night of pizza, wine, and an epic Patrick Swayze marathon into the wee hours of the morning. Dirty Dancing had been topped off by all three digging their spoons into a pint of Neapolitan ice cream – Zoe had hogged all the strawberry, of course.

Zach looked at her dress again. Hell, he was still working off those calories. But she was smiling now, so it had (obviously) been worth it.

"Where's Chris?"

He blinked, and mentally shook himself. Zoe was – watching him carefully?

"He's in Colorado. With his family." Thank God.

She nodded. "That sounds nice. How's he doing, there?"

Zach opened a desk drawer mindlessly, then closed it and looked around. "I don't know. Haven't talked to him since he left."

She eyed him warily, and before Zach could puzzle that out, the doorbell rang.

"Excuse me." He touched her waist briefly, but she held on to his wrist and looked at him. But before she could ask, she seemed to think better of whatever she had to say, and let go to turn towards the patio.

Zach still had her touch on his mind, when he went to answer the door.

The party packed his house with many of his friends from L.A. – he remembered some across-the-room waving at Kristen and Tyler - along with a score of new names and faces. In between quick chatting and introductions, he raced back and forth from the kitchen to the serving table; replenishing whatever was out of stock. Thankfully there was plenty of actual food – he could send home leftovers, in fact – but fuck him on the condiments. Hopefully nobody noticed when he put out more dinner rolls and butter to compensate; and instead started wrapping entrées in to-go plates of colored saran wrap. (People had condiments in their own fridges, right?)

So it wasn't until midnight, when Zach was in the kitchen wrapping the last of the ham (and busting out more mini quiches for the late-night stoners) that Zoe joined up with him again.

"Let me help, hon."

"God, you're still here?" He shook his head, placing the last of the quiches on a green pastel platter. "I feel like I've been zipping around too much. The Easter Bunny could've shown up with a chick posse for all I'd know, and I'd still be in here, freaking out over appetizers."

"That's because it's a wonderful party. The food is fabulous, by the way." She took several large spoonfuls of pasta salad, and started equally dishing them out on paper plates with a floral theme. "I think I ate a dozen of those sugar cookies, though. They were really cute. Did you make those, or did somebody bring them?"

Zach grimaced as he watched her spoon au gratin potatoes. "Chris made them, actually. Apparently he's a sugar cookie genius."

Zoe smiled. "The boy is just full of surprises, isn't he?"

Zach leaned his shoulder against the kitchen door and paused. Studying her face as she placed a dinner roll on each plate with a slice of ham, he concluded she looked like the Cheshire Cat.

"You could say that, I suppose." And he left before he could see her reaction to that.

It wasn't cowardice that made him fiddle with the plate arrangements as he set the quiches out. Things had disappeared quickly, and it was tacky to leave empty plates just sitting there together. However, when Zoe found him ten minutes later, her expression accused exactly that.

"Zach, do I have to ask directly?"

He decided that he should just take the plates he couldn't refill back into the kitchen. "About what?"

She followed him. "About Chris."

He opened the dishwasher, only to shut it quickly when he realized he had it already running. "Why?"

She huffed as she watched him shove the dishes into the sink, and then frantically turn around to start wrapping more plates. "Because there's obviously something up."

He dropped the spoon of pasta salad back into its bowl with a thud, and turned to look at her. "I'm not the one who keeps asking after him. Maybe there's something up with you."

"I know he was going to talk to you last night."

Zach threw up his hands, mentally cursing the ceiling. When he looked down, Zoe had her arms crossed and a look as piercing as a spotlight.

They stared at each other a moment, with sounds of laughter filtering in from the living room, before Zach leaned on one arm against the counter and sighed.

"He talked to me."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "It didn't go well?"

Zach shook his head.

"What did he say?"

Zach turned back towards the plates. "Does it matter?"

She joined him with a furrowed brow. "I'm not getting this, Zach."

"Join the club."

"I mean, I thought – "

"You thought I would just jump him, right?" At the thought he snapped at her, "Did you encourage him?"

She bit her cheek, which was all he needed to rip off a sheet of plastic angrily.

"You know my rules."

"No, Zach. I don't know your rules. Obviously your stupid fucking rules."

"They're not – "

"Look, Zach, you're perfect for each other."

"That's not – "

"He thinks you're hot, and I know you think he's hot – "

"Thanks for making us so superficial."

"But that's not all! He gets your sense of humor, and loves your family and friends. He's smarter than you – "

"Thanks."

"He's emotionally available, and doesn't have fucking issues – "

"Except he's a Hollywood brat -"

"And he fucking loves you!"

Suddenly the world was too silent, and the both of them stood very still. When the world didn't seem to shatter, Zach said quietly, "I can't do it."

She touched his shoulder, and he could feel her gaze on his face. "Why, baby?"

He closed his eyes. He wasn't going to think about this – he wasn't going to think about this.

"Trust me, it just wouldn't work out."

Before she could open her mouth again, he waved his hand. "I really don't want to talk about this. I'm already super-stressed, and I have guests out there probably wondering where the fuck I am."

She gave him an appraising glance, then slowly nodded. "You'll talk to me tomorrow, right?"

He nodded back. "Yes. Yes I will. Now – " and he motioned towards the plates," – some people are waiting for these."

Zoe watched him as he stacked a few on top of each other, and then left the kitchen abruptly.

When he returned minutes later followed by laughter, she was already unloading the dishwasher without any questions.

Zach collapsed into bed that night, grateful that Zoe and Joe had stuck around to help clean up. His mother, despite her spree of cooking for Joe's birthday dinner tomorrow – no, today - had even managed to stop in for a moment; insisting on a bit of vacuuming. This was after her fawning over Zoe, of course, and asking where Chris was. Zach would've rolled his eyes, but even they were too tired to care, anymore.

It was near 3am, and Zach just wanted to sleep forever. Perhaps forget the day had even happened. That almost 24 hours ago Chris had been knocking on his door, asking for his keys after –

Zach shook his head. He would deal with that in the morning. All he wanted to do now was curl up with his dog, and fall asleep.

Zach opened an eyelid in the darkness. Something had woken him up, and –

Noah's head peeked up from Zach's side; an ear perked. When the doorbell rang again, a nail landed way too close to Zach's groin. As Noah went to go audibly harass the visitor, Zach stumbled down the hall, rubbing his thigh.

It was so fucking dark that he stubbed his toe on a table leg before reaching the door, and yanking it open. When he leaned against the doorframe, he could only gape: There was a familiar blonde on his doorstep, and when he looked up, Zach was staring into bright blue eyes.

Zach's brain was very slow on the uptake, but eventually: "What are you doing here?"

Chris swallowed. "I'm sorry, I forgot my keys."

Zach blinked a few times. "But I thought you were in Colorado."

Chris' eyes narrowed, looking confused. "I'm on my way to the airport?" He peeked behind Zach. "But I thought I would get my keys before I –" another peek "- left?"

Zach shook his head. "I gave them to you –" but he looked behind him and, sure enough – there they were; a glint of silver catching the outside light like a beacon.

Zach walked slowly towards the couch, where the keys were nestled between two couch cushions. He could only stare as he picked them up, and let them dangle across his palm.

A horn honked.

"Zach?"

He turned to see Chris bracing his arms in the doorway, peering in but not stepping inside.

The horn honked again before Zach mentally shook himself, and strode forward to hand over the keys. His hands found and gripped the door handle, as stepping out felt too close for comfort – especially with those eyes watching him.

"Zach, I'm – "

Zach shook his head. "Go Chris. Have fun in Colorado." He started shutting the front door, which pushed Chris back from the doorframe and made him step outside.

"Zach –"

"Goodbye, Chris." And he closed the door on that face; not bothering to watch through the keyhole, but instead pulling out his cell phone.

4:33am.

He heard the taxi pull away as he looked closer at the date:

March 20th, 2010.

There was obviously a mistake somewhere; even if it was his brain short-circuiting and going insane.

His phone – synchronized with satellites - said it was March 20th. The Internet, although not always the most reliable source of information, seemed to agree. When Zach quickly turned on CNN, and then MSNBC, and then FOX, all had the same time stamp and for once, agreed on something else: "It's not looking like the first day of Spring for the East coast; once again getting hit with a foot of snow. Upcoming forecasts, in 10 - "

Zach turned the TV off, and slumped on his couch.

Fuck. He was obviously still sleeping. Obviously still dreaming of the day beforehand. His brain was coping with that craptastic day by analyzing it in his head – right? By sleeping it off, and replaying it over again, to –

"Ow."

Zach looked at his skin, where the pinch marks left white splotches that faded into red.

He blinked. Okay, maybe he had dreamed the day from hell, and this was the reality?

But - he looked towards the door, remembering 20 minutes previous. It had all been the same. All of it. Down to the time, and the circumstances. The bright blue eyes, the hesitant expression. There had even been déjà vu in their conversation.

Zach was staring into the dark room as Noah came up next to him, and settled against his side on the couch. Zach absently patted his head, then scratched his ears as he stared at his TV with bewilderment.

Huh.

Zach made up his mind: He would go back to sleep. No matter what evidence he had now, he was probably still dreaming. He would wake up later, and it would be because Joe was dragging his ass out of bed, insisting on coffee and birthday pancakes; not because he still had shopping and cooking and entertaining to do.

Zach leaned back against the couch with a throw pillow, nodding assuredly to himself. Noah rolled over, as his human swiftly fell back to sleep.

His neck hurt like a motherfucker. Perhaps because it was squared in to a corner of the couch, with what he assumed to be a throw pillow on top of his face. The top of his head bumped uncomfortably against the sofa frame, but eventually he removed the pillow, and was greeted by blinding sunlight through his picture window.

He sat up slowly, blinked a few times, and surveyed the room.

Why did he fall asleep out here?

Zach looked at the coffee table for his cell phone, then realized it all at once:

He had answered the door. Chris had been at the door. At four o'clock in the morning. On a day he supposedly lived yesterday.

He quickly grabbed his cell, and tapped the face of it - 9:30. There was a message waiting:

You awake, bro?

It was dated 9:09am, March 20th.

Zach sighed. He didn't fucking get it. Had the day before been a dream? What the fuck was this?

He texted back Now I am, and waited to see what Joe would say.

The phone vibrated.

"What, Joe?"

"Ma's driving me nuts, Zach. She's insisting that her spidey-senses are tingling."

Zach thought it through a moment.

"Hello? Zach? "

He shook his head. "I'm here, sorry – what now?"

"Ma's been on my case since this morning, wondering whether you have a boyfriend or not."

Zach huffed. "So, no earthquakes this time?"

There was a chuffing sound at the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize my dog had snuck into your house and stolen the phone."

"This isn't funny, Zach. Ma is making extra gnocchi and shit for tomorrow, because she insists that -"

"I get it. I promise. I'll talk to her later."

"…Zach?"

He paused in the bathroom doorway, bracing himself against the frame. "Yeah?"

"You really don't – "

"Seriously, Joe, you'd be one of the first to know."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, and Zach narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing. You need help with the party? Ma's kicking me out of my own house to cook and shit.""

Zach rubbed his forehead as he closed the bathroom door, and looked in the mirror. "Maybe. I need to go shopping – just get over here whenever you can?"

"Will do. Especially if you have any more of those cashews?"

Zach saw his reflection sigh, and visibly resign itself.

Sure enough, traffic was congested again. And the radio was still playing god-awful peppy pop music - again - as his car crawled the five miles to Whole Foods. Zach adjusted the radio dial; a fingertip tapping the steering wheel. His mind had to think it all through; try to make some sense out of this strange madness.

He was partially convinced that it was all just an elaborate hoax (hey, he knew the creator of LOST, after all). But he was also convinced of the distinct possibility of being in a straitjacket, somewhere. Maybe he was in some county hospital, bouncing off the padded walls? Or maybe he was dreaming. Propitiously in a coma? (But weren't comas supposed to be pleasant? Dreamless, even?)

But when he opened his fridge that morning to a defrosted ham – with absolutely no condiments - he decided that maybe he should play along. Not look a gift horse in the mouth. Yesterday – no, today - had been a crap day. Perhaps Life was trying to make things up to him? Set things right, even?

Which was bullshit, because things were not all right. Not at all. He still had an asshole driver honking at him for no apparent reason. He was still stressed, and had to go shopping, and – he still had to talk to Chris that morning.

Which, the latter was usually in a different inflection and context all together.

Zach laid his head gently on the steering wheel, and looked over at the empty passenger's seat.

"So you asked Zoe for advice, huh?"

He could picture Chris sitting there, looking out the window. He'd be wearing his tight-fitting black jeans and white t-shirt; or maybe be wrapped in cardigan layers with that stupid scarf. To Chris, the weather had also been entirely too cold lately.

Which reminded Zach again as to how they were so different.

But that's why he's intriguing.

Zach scowled. It wasn't supposed to be an intriguing thing.

But truth be told, Chris was interesting, in many different ways. Actually - okay, the boy was weird. Not that Zach was anywhere near normal himself; but at least when people looked at him, they knew it. With Chris however, the world saw a generic pretty boy that filled the usual roles – and could act like the typical brain-dead Hollywood actor. Except Chris wasn't anywhere near dumb, and wasn't anywhere near typical.

"That kind of looks like a fucked-up alligator, doesn't it?"

The traffic was inching past a house with a blown-up Easter Bunny; six-feet tall, white, and thoroughly obnoxious with a basket of blown-up eggs. But there was a puncture, or something, because now it was slumped with its head turned to the side; its ears now a mock-mouth, or a scissors – like a Pac-Man?

"It's some albino Easter Gator, stealing everyone's eggs." Chris had cleared his throat. "'Under the cover of darkness, he sneaks on your lawn - searching for pastel goodies and all your peeps. He goes by the secret codename of Nom Nom Nom.'"

Zach turned his head to look at it again. He could also picture Chris' hand at the windshield, folded like a duckbill, making those sounds.

"Nom nom nom – "

"What is wrong with you?"

But Chris had only grinned at him, too happy with his fit of silliness. And Zach had smiled back – just like he was smiling now.

Because yeah, Chris was a bit odd. But it was also the part of Chris that Zach happened to like best.

Zach didn't bother with a grocery basket this time around. If he was going to live this crappy day all over again, he was going to learn from his mistakes, dammit. And yesterday at the store had his basket overflowing; with bottles tucked into the crooks of his arms as he waited forever in line at check out.

Instead he grabbed one of the few remaining carts, and tried to hum merrily to Paul McCartney on the intercom. If he was going to do this right, he would try to remember what did, and did not, get used at the party the first time around; and try to plan accordingly. He looked at various different types of mustard and ketchup; weaving in-between kids near the olives. He picked up two large jars of Miracle Whip, and a smaller jar of mayo. He almost ran over other desperate morning shoppers, carrying stuffed baskets, as he made a detour for extra mini-quiche crusts and eggs. He looked at these other morning shoppers with a perverted sense of glee – the opening synth notes of "The Final Countdown" in his head, as he pushed his grocery cart along.

But after weeding through the eggs – cursing carton after carton with cracked shells - he turned around; only to see all his condiments stacked on the floor, and his cart gone.

Zach stared for a second, trying to register the image. If he were Spock, perhaps he'd say, "Fascinating" and chalk it up to some temporal anomaly.

As Zach, he muttered, "God fucking dammit."

Without even a basket, he tucked the bottles and jars into the crooks of his arms. With a glare, he turned towards check out and resisted the urge to throttle every cart-user he saw.

He carried his groceries inside, seeing Joe predictably at the dining room table with the cashews. Except this time it looked like Joe had coffee, which Zach could've kissed his feet for.

"You sounded tired this morning, man."

Zach hummed as the caffeine entered his bloodstream, and seemed to awaken sparks and nerves in his body. He was so grateful for the boost, that he wasn't about to yell at Joe for the whole milk instead of soy in the elixir.

"Thanks." But when Zach lowered his cup, Joe was already unloading groceries, and predictably eyeing the container of mixed nuts.

"So, how's Chris doing?"

Zach grabbed the edge of the bag, and rolled the coveted container into his hand. "Probably okay. He's in the Rocky Mountains."

"Yeah?" Joe did a mock pout, but moved on to the next bag. He then handed the empty ones to Zach, who started to fold them. "Does he go there often?"

Zach thought about it a moment, his brain too happy with the caffeinated electricity to be annoyed. "I think so? His family has a cabin there. Chris says they go this time every year; for the skiing or some shit."

"Really?" Joe placed the condiments in the fridge door. "Maybe you should go with him next year. I mean, I know you don't know how to ski, but - "

Zach wasn't too coffee-happy to miss that. "Um, I'm sure Chris would just like to spend time with his family?"

Joe waved a hand. "Then invite him to my birthday dinner, or something. You know, next year."

"How is that different – "

"Mi casa es su casa. Or, uh, Chris' casa. However the fuck that goes."

Zach only remembered his high school German, and shook his head.

Joe shrugged. "Hey, all I speak are whiskey and beer."

Zach smirked. "Well, at that you're a natural."

Joe emerged from the fridge with several mini quiches stuffed in his mouth. "Exacnfly."

Zach sighed, and pulled out the new container of eggs.

This time at the party, Zach managed to luck out. He didn't need to avoid Zoe, as she not only arrived later than usual, but also bumped into Kristen; who was mysteriously dateless herself. Zach raised a practiced eyebrow at that – had Kristen been dateless before? But it didn't seem to matter, as the girls seemed quite taken with each other.

Girls. But their giggling could be heard sometimes across the chatter of the room, and Zach had to smile at that. However, it was an infectious sound, and of course they eventually attracted a group. Zoe didn't seem to mind the attention; chatting with several television actors that were most likely secret fanboys. However, Kristen downed several goblets of wine.

"James isn't demanding, really; he just cares about the cinema, and wants to make the best film he possibly can."

Zach nodded solemnly at this, while refilling everyone's goblets. When he was able to slip easily out the group and back to the kitchen, he thanked his lucky stars once again for her diversion. Eventually, near 9:30, Zoe left with a man Zach recognized from several sitcoms – perhaps Zach had worked with him before? Whatever, he seemed to fill his jeans nicely; and Zach winked at Zoe as she left and mouthed – Good choice. She winked back.

However, this didn't mean Zach was scot-free and alone in the kitchen. Midway through the party he saw a head peek through the door, and a small wave of the hand.

Zach did a double take. "John! What the hell - did you just arrive, or what?"

John grinned. "Just got here. My wife sent me on an errand for Miracle Whip at the gas station – guess the grocery store was out, or something? Anyway, I thought I'd drop by before I have to face telling her that uh, everywhere is out of Miracle Whip."

Zach raised an eyebrow and thought it through. John was also on some fucked up time-traveling show, wasn't he?

But Zach nodded towards the fridge. "You're in luck – I bought an extra jar today."

"Dude, I didn't – "

"People aren't using it like I thought they would; so I might as well save you from the wrath of your wife." Zach opened the fridge door, spotted the jar, and lightly tossed it to John; who looked like he had found El Dorado.

"Thanks, man."

Zach smiled, and went back to fitting deviled eggs on a plate. "So, were you in the middle of big plans for the evening, or does your wife just have a hankering?"

John shrugged. "Late-night sandwich-making. The in-laws are staying with us." John mock-shivered, and Zach patted an arm.

"Well, us Quintos are having an Italian feast tomorrow, for Joe's birthday. If you ever need to escape, you're invited."

John laughed and shook his head. "Nah, but thanks though. Is Chris going to be there?"

Zach was headed towards the kitchen door when he stopped abruptly, losing an egg half to the floor.

"No - he's in Colorado." Zach quickly bent down to pick it up and toss it, although John already looked halfway there.

"Really? How's he liking it?"

Zach watched John's face as he tossed the deviled egg. Either John wasn't trying to hide very well, or Zach overestimated him as an actor.

John cleared his throat, and found something on his shoes very interesting.

Setting the plate of appetizers gently on the counter, Zach took a deep breath. "I assume he likes it there just fine."

"Assume?"

Zach nodded slowly. "Yeah. I haven't spoken to him since he left."

John's eyes went wide, but then he quickly recovered. "Oh, well - yeah. I suppose – I suppose he's busy, and - "

Zach rolled his eyes and decided to cut to the chase. "John, do you know something I don't?"

"… Probably?"

Zach glared. "No - really."

John looked around the room, his eyes focusing on the colored saran wrap. "Um, did you and Chris… have a fight, or something?"

Zach crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Why would you say that?"

John randomly picked up a spoon; tapping it in his hands. Zach put on his sweetest smile – although perhaps he was the bad actor, for John looked anything but assured.

After a minute, John huffed and placed the spoon far away from him. "Okay, Chris and I talked the other day."

Zach raised an eyebrow.

"He likes you, man. Like, really really likes you. And the way you're acting when his name comes up? It's like, perhaps he told you, and you really really did not share the sentiment."

Zach took a moment to weed through the adverbs. "That's really really not it, at all."

John narrowed his eyes. "Okay. Then what is it, then?"

Zach sighed. He liked John, and they had been good friends for years; even before Star Trek. But as far as their relationship went, this was territory they hadn't covered before. It felt almost entirely too personal.

But since Chris seemed to really really not be so private, Zach gave it a go.

"I can't date a co-star. We have a few more movies to make yet, and I can't take the risk that we'll ruin the chemistry we have."

John seemed to consider that a moment, and Zach went to pick up the deviled eggs again when he felt a hand on his arm.

"You know Chris takes this seriously, right?"

Zach looked down at the hand, and when John followed his gaze he promptly removed it.

"I'm just saying that Chris thought it through, okay? He doesn't want to ruin things, either."

Zach nodded. "That's good to know." And with all the inconspicuous speed he could muster, he zipped out of the kitchen and to the buffet table; where Kristen thankfully rescued a few eggs as they threatened to spill over.

It was a half-hour later, after Zach was still rearranging empty plates, that he saw John wave goodbye to him, and Zach waved back. It was a good thing, and Zach let out a sigh of relief.

He hadn't wanted to get into the real reasons why Chris and him could never be.

The party thinned a little after midnight, and thankfully Ma and Joe stayed around to help clean (again). It was near 3am when Zach collapsed into bed, and thought about the day; his mind too active to fall asleep.

Sure, the day had (marginally) gotten better the second time around. But it was still a day that Zach would never want to repeat again. Especially every morning, with a dog threatening his groin, and a constant reminder – well, a reminder of that. The night before.

Zach leaned back and closed his eyes. His tired brain was too feeble and selfish to want to stop the flooding images. They were so familiar; the ones he thought about sometimes before bed - the ones he was fervently trying to stop now. Anything, anyone - anyone besides Chris; with those lips crooked into a devilish smile, bowing his head –

Zach rolled over on his side. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to imagine how Chris' lips, which had been so soft upon his own, would feel on the head of his dick. He wasn't going to imagine the blue eyes looking up at him; watching Zach's face as he licked and sucked – that brilliant tongue running along the side of his shaft, his hands reaching lower to –

No - no. Oh God, anybody else. Please, anybody else.

Zach palmed himself through his sweats and groaned. It was one thing to think dirty thoughts about your best friend, when said-best friend seemed like a (mostly) straight arrow without an iota of interest. But it was another when the hounds of desire turned their heads, and caught a scent on the edge of that arrow; aimed directly at Zach's heart.

But his growing hardness didn't seem interested in those consequences.

Zach pushed the hem of his sweatpants down, and grabbed himself; thumbing the slit and spreading the fluid across the head. This was going to be fast, especially when his mind seemed intent on those lips doing very wicked things – his hand stroking up and down, like that beautiful boy's head -

Zach's back arched as his hips stuttered; his mouth giving a breathy moan when he came. He could imagine some self-satisfied smile, the kind that Chris would wear when he knew he was clever; with his blue eyes sharp in the dark. But most of all, his mind could imagine Chris hovering above him; his gaze bearing down as Zach opened his own eyes -

He mentally chastised himself. Zach ripped a tissue from a Kleenex box, and hastily cleaned himself up. He crumpled his evidence, and threw it in a trash bin; angrily pulling up his sweats over his hips, and rolled over.

Because - oh, it was things like this that were dangerous. They bordered the territory where he could live his life, and they could still be friends; yet not have to worry about hurting someone else.

But the arrow in his heart was festering; the blood vessels refusing to clot. Zach felt helpless – he would always feel helpless. Especially at the smile that remained in his mind, as he finally fell into a deep sleep.

"Fuck my fucking life."

His eyes knew it the moment they saw the darkness, and Noah's ears perking up at the sound. That damn sound that only meant one thing:

It was this fucking day all over again. And in a moment –

Zach's senses didn't return fast enough to avoid the kick near his groin; and most of his cursing was reserved for himself.

"I'm coming! God fucking dammit, I'm coming." His yelling reverberated down the hall, and made the frames hum as he walked towards the door and swung it open.

Startled eyes greeted his. And, fuck – didn't seeing the same pitiful sight ever get easier?

"Um, hi. I –"

"You left your keys." Zach twirled behind him to the familiar glint, and practically swung them from one hand to Chris'.

Chris barely caught them; the metal jingling as pieces clinked together. "…Thanks?"

They both stood there a moment; with Chris staring at his keys. Zach, for whatever reason, was riveted to the blonde head; where he watched individual hairs as they slowly shifted onto the forehead of that beautiful, yearning face.

Yearning. That was a word that Zach didn't want to use, but was pulsing with earnestness from blue eyes – which, until now, Zach hadn't noticed were tinged with red, and were swollen.

But of course, they were standing awfully close now. He could count freckles, if he wanted to.

But a horn honked, and Zach straightened himself from the doorway.

"Zach, I – "

"Go to Colorado, Chris. Have fun."

"But – "

"Have a safe trip."

And perhaps with more need than the days before, Zach quickly slammed the door shut. He tried to block out the pained expression on his friend's face; as he heard the taxi doors close, and the engine move further and farther away.

Zach crouched over his grocery cart, staring hard at the different ounce sizes of mayo and Miracle Whip. He was practically lying on the handlebars, with one foot perched on a lower tier. If he was going to relive this day over again, he would try to (again) learn from his mistakes. That apparently included the acquisition of a common sandwich spreading - for the love of all that was holy.

Because of course, he had speedily found all his other condiments; which were now sitting at the bottom of the cart. But now he was debating with himself on the likelihood that John's wife would be shafted without Miracle Whip, once again. Zach looked at the stocked shelves – there seemed to be plenty of jars, as far as he could tell. But he sighed as he put the second small jar back – well, people at his party hadn't cared, anyway. And he certainly didn't need a repeat of Cho harassing him in his kitchen.

Zach gripped the handlebars of his shopping cart, and started towards the dairy section. He would be fucking damned if anyone could sneak away with his cart (again). His theme music was "Eye of the Tiger"; and he was definitely ready to fight. So when he got to the eggs, he parked his cart in front of them; half bent-over the handlebars to reach the cartons, and to keep his body over his condiments.

It was a daunting task that gained much irritation from those who also wanted a dozen eggs, but Zach didn't give a damn. On the seventh batch he looked at, he placed them in his cart and victoriously steered it away; (not-so) silently cheering and celebrating in his head. He wanted to stand on the lower bars of his cart like a little kid, and race down an aisle in jubilation. Zach was obviously moving up in the world; despite all the knee-height brats who (still) wouldn't move out of his way.

But on his last pit stop for some extra pickles, he almost ran over an elderly woman reaching for a jar of artichokes. Why someone would want jarred artichokes he couldn't fathom, but the couldn't-be-taller-than-a-midget white-haired woman was reaching pitifully, and greatly failing.

Zach reached above her – sensing the glare that society obviously deserved coming his way – but when he handed the jar to her, she looked surprised.

"Bless you. I've been here ten minutes reaching for that."

Zach smiled down at her. "Not a problem. Have a nice day."

"You too, young man; you too."

And Zach was about to do another victory dance for his cart still being there when he turned around but, well - he noticed that the elderly woman didn't even have a cart.

She waddled with a half-dozen jars and cans in her arms; her purse precariously dragging down her elbow and hitting her thighs. On his way over to her, she almost got run over by a dozen other shoppers and their little brats.

"Hey," Zach said; wondering if he should tap her shoulder. Fortunately she spun around, and – shit, this woman had the Spock eyebrow down.

It pained him slightly, but Zach motioned to their items. "Um, I only have a few things, and I noticed you don't have a cart. I – I can carry my stuff, if you want to use mine?"

The old lady beamed. She was barely taller than the cart, but she was already stretching to drop her items in, and nodded.

"You are such a nice young man. They don't make people like you, anymore."

Zach shrugged, precariously shifting all the items in his arms. "We're… a dying breed?"

She nodded. "God bless you, son. God bless you."

He smiled. "Thank you. Um – you too?"

And he tried to keep that smile on as he waited impatiently in line; and he saw Grandma use the fast lane to swiftly check out her items.

This was what hell probably felt like, Zach decided. He saw her leave for the parking lot, with store clerk in tow; before he could even read the headlines of the tabloid magazines.

When Zach pulled into the driveway, his brother was out the door and down the steps to help him.

"Hey, what's family for?" Joe shrugged awkwardly with the grocery bags, as Zach let them inside. Zach would actually believe that line of bullshit if he hadn't, out of boredom, hid the remaining cashews before he left the house.

"So, was it crazy out there?" Joe was unloading the mixed nuts, opening the lid before Zach could come over to smack his hand and snatch it away.

"I've been through worse." Which was true. Two days ago he wanted to bitchslap and rage at everyone. Now he was just tired, and mildly annoyed that his victory dances had been for naught.

Joe seemed to catch that however, as he tossed him a concerned glance. "You okay, bro?"

Zach bit his tongue. "Just running a mental list of things I need to do before six."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, I bet it's a lot. Too bad Chris couldn't stay to help."

Zach shook his head. Although Chris knew exactly how he wanted to rearrange the living room, and the food he planned to make, and how the lights were supposed to be hung outside -

Joe looked strangely at him, again. "Seriously, you okay?"

Zach sighed. Before he could answer, however, Joe waved a hand.

"You probably could've asked him to stay, you know."

Zach shoved folded paper grocery bags into a drawer. "Why? You'd think he'd actually pass on time with his family?"

Joe shrugged. "He's an actor. It probably wouldn't have been the first time."

Zach stared at him. "Seriously? You want Chris to miss skiing with his folks, to spend the weekend here with us?"

Joe seemed to think about it a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, close enough."

Zach sputtered. "Really? For my stupid party?"

"It's not just the party, Zach." Joe was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, the mixed nuts temporarily forgotten. "I'm talking about you."

Zach wasn't sure how to answer that. He went to the dishwasher and started unloading dishes, before turning back around with the broiler pan. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

Zach narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Joe took the container of mixed nuts, and picked out a cashew, before setting it down again. "No. I think you know." And before Zach could say another word, Joe had taken a string of fairy lights, and headed outside.

His brother was absolutely infuriating.

After Joe had hung the party lights, he had pretty much avoided every opportunity to talk to him again. Which, on Joe's part, hadn't been hard – Zach was preoccupied with the cooking and setting up, to the point where he had forgotten how angry and confused he had been earlier.

It was only when Zoe arrived, and he had remembered their particular conversation (and to avoid it like the plague) that he remembered Joe's last statement.

"I think you know." What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He unintentionally slammed a goblet against the kitchen counter, in a long line of other glasses waiting for the dishwasher. Fuck Joe. Fuck Chris. What the hell was Chris doing – going to Zoe, John, and Joe for advice? Jesus.

Zach was unloading the dishwasher, when he heard a Kiwi accent before the kitchen door even swung open.

"Hey, man. Need some help?"

His face must have shown his surprise, for Karl's lips turned up in a smirk.

"Seriously - Karl? What the hell are you doing in L.A.?" He went forward to quickly embrace the other man, and Karl certainly didn't shirk from the affection. They clapped each other on the shoulder, and when Zach stood back, Karl had a bright grin.

"Some little old granny-midget in a Buick rammed me on the motorway, and totaled my car." He motioned chest-high. "She was a sweetheart; almost punched me in the nuts."

Zach thought to ask about the eyebrows, when Karl waved a hand.

"So I'm stuck in town, and I thought I'd annoy you." Karl looked down at the counter, and picked up a burnt quiche to analyze. "What are you doing here?"

Zach laughed, as he walked back to the dishwasher. "I live here?"

"Yeah, but I heard Chris was in Colorado. How's Pine doing?"

It was such an unexpected barrage, that Zach stood stunned for a moment. A glass stem was between the web of his fingers, and he had been about to grab another, when he paused.

Karl was picking through the quiches, and popped a half-burnt one in his mouth when Zach's brain restarted.

Zach reached for another glass and tried to shrug. "I'm not his mother. Why don't you ask him?"

"Because, Zachary – I'm asking you."

"Well, I wouldn't know."

"You do have a phone, correct?"

"Yeah, same as you – why don't you call him?" Zach slammed the dishwasher door with his hip; perhaps putting too much into it that he winced.

"Yes, but I'm not madly in love with my co-star; so it would not be my place to verbally harass that handsome man near midnight."

Zach snorted. "If I recall correctly, that would be Chris in love with you."

"Hey, we're manly-men. We can handle a bromance with finesse - which may, or may not have included some eye sex and flagrant groping."

Zach narrowed his eyes. "Since when –"

"However, you and Chris take the cake, my friend."

"It's 'Chris and' – "

"Not only do you have eye sex with an obscene amount of inappropriate touching, but you also seem to – " Karl interlaced his fingers, "- connect, man. Like, really deep and touching."

"We're best friends."

"Best friends with a soul connection."

"I have a 'soul connection' with many friends. Including you."

"Oh, I know you want me Quinto – "

"Your modesty, Karl. It's – "

"- But admit it, you really want Chris." Karl raised an eyebrow, staring Zach in the eye. "You can't lie to me, Zach. I dare you."

Zach stood toe to toe with Karl, trying to coax his feeble brain into a reasonably-snarky retort; one that would take that stupid Kiwi's smirk, and throw it across the Pacific.

Except - with the International Date Line, that was technically time travel, wasn't it?

… Fucking dammit.

"Your inner outrage: It's touching, Quinto. Reminds me of the climax of every romantic comedy I've had the pleasure of not acting in."

Zach stuttered, and shook his head. "This isn't an epiphany moment, you jackass."

Karl held up his hands. "No need to get feisty. Just making an observation."

"Well, observe this -" and Zach hissed as he took a batch of burnt quiches out of the oven, and slammed the pan onto the stove top. "Fuck me."

"I believe that would be Pine's job."

Zach glared, then stomped the few feet between them while ripping his oven mitt off.

"Careful Zach, I've seen this part of a duel –"

"I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH CHRIS!"

And suddenly, the world was too quiet. Despite faint party music, Zach could hear the clinking of plates in his living room – or perhaps it was a pin dropping.

Whatever it was, Karl looked entirely too smug. He backed away slowly; daring to look from floor, to burnt quiches, to Zach's face with a measure of concealed aplomb, and whispered, "If you say so. Zach."

With that, Karl exited the kitchen with all of Zach's dignity, and the last container of mixed nuts.

When Zach regained composure, the party had started to disperse. Thankfully for him, Zoe had left with a brief kiss and a good night, while Joe had decided to hang off of Karl; who was thankfully keeping his distance. Kristen left with a plate of deviled eggs; and by the time his mother arrived to help with the cleaning, Zach was just too exhausted to keep track of anyone. Karl waved goodbye close after that, and – good riddance.

Zach collapsed into bed near 2:30, not even bothering with his nightly routine, or changing into his sweats. Fuck it. Especially if he was just going to wake up at 4:30 again anyhow, with none of it mattering.

He sighed, petting Harold's back; and felt his cat's purr reverberate to his chest.

"I'm not in love with Chris," Zach whispered into the night.

Except - with the hounds of love nipping at his heels – he could no longer deny that he totally, and completely, was.

"Fuck me."

Noah's body suddenly felt too precariously close; and in a split-second decision Zach rolled to the side – rolling off the bed and smacking with the ground, as Noah jumped off for the second doorbell.

"I'm coming!" Zach roared. He leapt up and stomped down the hallway, in perfect tune with the tirade in his head. "I swear to fucking God if I find those fucking keys –"

He swiped them off the couch as the doorbell rang for the third time.

"Um, hi, Zach –"

Zach threw the keys at that beautiful fucking head with the sad puppy dog eyes, and slammed the door.

"Zach?" he heard muffled; but Zach only glared at the expression he imagined on the other side.

It was a few minutes before he heard the taxi pull away – an eternity, really – and he stomped back to his bedroom. He collapsed back on the bed; almost crushing his indignant cat as he crawled under the covers.

You awake, bro?

Zach dialed in response; clutching the side of his head as he twisted and cracked his back.

"Jesus Zach, it's almost noon!"

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Ma's driving me crazy - "

"Same old, same old." He heard Joe stutter as he rolled out of bed; wincing as blood rushed quickly from his head to his other appendages.

"But Zach - "

"And tell her that no, I don't have a boyfriend; and even if I did, her gnocchi would be too damn good to waste on him."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Zach smirked as he stumbled through the bathroom door.

"I'm not sure if I should be filled with awe, or wonder what sort of twisted world I suddenly live in."

Zach sighed. "I accept your awe; and raise you in agreement of seeing you over here whenever you're able?"

There was more silence, and Zach almost hung up before, "Zach?"

Zach rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Joe?"

"Can you tell me what the winning lottery numbers, are?"

"Bye, Joe." Zach smiled at his reflection – until he remembered that it was noon, and he still had a shit-fuck of errands to do.

"How do you know it's not a crocodile?"

"You're hilarious, Zach."

"Hey, you're the one who pointed out it was a fucked-up alligator."

Zach glared at the house with the deflated Easter Bunny. How was it possible that he was several hours behind the old schedule, and yet he was still stuck in front of the same jackass?
The horn blared behind him, and Zach resisted the urge to go homicidal. It wasn't easy, as it seemed that everything he looked at sparked a bit of rage.

He looked at the passenger's seat; still empty, yet still taunting.

"Because crocodiles have pointy snouts. Our dude has a rounded snout."

Zach looked at it, just as he had looked at it then.

"What if this crocodile just has a rotund, pointy snout?"

He could picture Chris there, as he shook his head with a laugh.

"It's totally not. Points are points, Zach. And besides – our alligator has, I don't know – a je ne sais quoi. I can tell these things."

"You're an albino alligator whisperer?"

Chris had smiled then, and the butterflies in Zach's stomach fluttered in remembrance.

"I can just read 'em, like I can read people."

And Chris had duckbilled his hand again, making noises along the windshield for the hundredth time that week.

But Zach only stared at the Easter Gator, despite the horn blasting behind him.

Oh - he was in love with Chris, all right. He was totally in love with Chris; this crazy blonde-haired boy who thought in non-sequitors, and abstract ideals. Who was patient, and kind, and smart and funny - the kind who made times like these bearable, and somehow, even memorable. He made places like this never the same way ever again; an imprinted memory that was truly inescapable.

And the worst part of it all, was that Chris had been right. Chris had been totally right. He could read people. He read Zach like an open book.

Chris had known Zach was in love with him; had accused Zach of being in love with him, even.

But Zach had only –

A fist pounded on his window, as Zach looked to his left to see an angry face; yelling obscenities.

"I can just read 'em, like I can read people."

Zach nodded, and revved the engine; the man stepping away as he pressed on the gas and –

Bumped the car in front of him.

Zach let his head flop to the steering wheel, and groaned.

"I'm sorry, Chris; I just can't do this. I just don't feel the same way."

It was two hours later that Zach managed to pull into his blocked driveway with a sigh of relief. Noah's nose was like a beacon of kindness, as it left an impression of snot on the picture window; a beautiful sight to Zach's tired eyes.

The door opened just as a key found the lock.

"Jesus, Zach! It's three-thirty!"

Zach grimaced at Joe, as he handed him one of the grocery bags. "An unexpected delay."

"Well, you could've answered your cell phone!"

Zach very well could've; but as he further explained to Joe, he had been too busy filing an accident report and calling his insurance agent.

Joe nodded sympathetically, placing his bag on the dining room table. "Well, at least you're both okay. How did it happen, anyway?"

Zach shook his head; taking the empty container of cashews from the table, and lackadaisically throwing it in a recycling bin. "I was distracted, that's all."

"By what?"

Zach gestured in the air. "Lots of stuff. It was busy out there."

"Yeah? It was bad out?"

"Well, it's a Saturday afternoon."

Which appeared enough for Joe, as he helped put away the groceries without much commentary. He hazarded a look at Zach every great once in awhile, but handed over the empty paper bags without a word.

It was only when Zach tucked them into a drawer, that he tilted his head and hazarded a look of his own. "You're awfully quiet."

Joe looked up from the fridge, as a fingertip pushed a mini quiche into his mouth. "Huh?"

Zach sighed, his fingertips skimming a countertop as he contemplated all he still had to do. "You're being very helpful. It's nice. Thank you."

Joe closed the refrigerator door. "I do that… sometimes?"

Zach lazily nodded. Two days ago he had been overwhelmed at this point; ready to rage at any living being who had deviated him from his plans. But now he just felt thoroughly exhausted; a headache creeping in on the party horizon. For all he cared at the moment, the party could hitch a ride to a Chinese buffet, and Zach wouldn't give a flying fuck.

But instead, he ambled over to the dishwasher; reaching inside to grab his largest pan.

Which wasn't there.

"You… you put away the dishes."

If Zach were later asked about the awe in his voice, he would surely blame stress and exacerbated PTSD.

Joe shrugged. "You were late. Thought I would try to do something."

Zach smiled at his brother. At this point, Joe could drink all the beer and eat the entire container of mixed nuts, and Zach would completely forgive him.

But instead, Joe pulled out the ham from the fridge, and set it gently near the sink; while Zach bent down to access a lower cabinet.

He sat on his haunches, opening the doors to either side of him as he peered inside. Zach had all his pans stacked neatly, of course – grouped by size, material, and frequency of use – so it was no issue to see where Joe had set the large broiler pan casually.

Except it was. It was a huge issue, for Zach.

Next to the pan were two cookie sheets; stacked on top of the other, as if they belonged there. Zach couldn't fathom where the space had come from, but there was room, all the same; for Chris' non-stick cookware.

Zach sighed. Joe hadn't been over two nights previously, when Chris had engaged in a baking extravaganza; while Zach had combed his iTunes for the perfect party mix. There had been a lot of badly sung 80's pop tunes, while Chris had skated across the hardwood floor in his socks; from one end of the kitchen to the other. Sheet after sheet of sugar cookies had been made, and Zach had even been conned into decorating some of them. Noah had eaten the imperfects, while Zach striped his egg-shaped cookies in pastel colors, and Chris did polka dots.

Still, Zach had forgotten they were in the dishwasher. It was an honest mistake on Joe's part; so after handing the broiler pan off to Joe, he pulled out the cookie sheets and set them on the countertop with a clang.

He closed the cabinet doors with his foot and looked over at Joe, who eyed them.

"Didn't know you wanted those out, sorry."

Zach shook his head. "They aren't mine." He reached into the drawer of paper bags, and unfolded one. "Chris forgot them here."

"Ah, then – maybe you should just leave them down there? You know, since you have the larger kitchen and everything."

Zach gave his brother a look. "I'm sure Chris can bake at his own house."

"Then why was he baking here?"

Because he was helping me with everything else. "He was over, anyway."

Joe dropped the ham into the pan, and wrung his hands in the sink. "So, he's not gonna be over, again?"

Zach tried to grasp the handles of the bag with one hand, but the sheets were too tall. "I didn't say that, just - I'm sure he wants these back."

Zach was already leaning against the kitchen door, when he heard murmuring:

"Do you know what Chris wants?"

And just like that, Zach sparked like a live wire.

He charged through the kitchen door, walking straight to the coat closet.

"Is there a specific reason Chris can't leave his pans here, or – "

"No. There isn't."

Zach yanked open the accordion door, dropping (and ripping) the bag as it hit a row of boots and athletic shoes.

"Then why are you so pissed off, all the sudden?"

Zach ripped the door shut; hearing the wooden frame bounce back from the impact. "Why the fuck do you care?"

"Gee, I don't know – " and Joe followed him back into the kitchen, "I just, you know, have this really great brother who is friends with this awesome guy – "

"Don't start on me, Joe – "

"And this awesome guy just so happens to – "

Zach rounded on him. "Don't say it. For the love of fucking God, don't - "

"- Be in love with this undeserving jerk!"

Zach breathed through his teeth; gripping the edge of the countertop with a force that would break knuckles. Joe stood near the door; arms crossed and face even crosser.

"Zach – what the fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, thank you."

"Bullshit. You're acting weird about – "

Zach took the three steps to get in his face. "Just spit it the fuck out. You have a question; let me fucking answer it."

They stood eye-to-eye; Joe taking the moment to search that cold, hard stare. He seemed to reconsider, and then decided on being honest,

"I know that Chris was going to talk to you."

Zach threw up his hands. "Well - fuck! Is there anyone Chris didn't talk to?"

Joe furrowed his brow. "What - ?"

Zach waved his hands. "He talked to Zoe, right? And then John knows somehow, and so does Karl, and now you – "

Joe clipped a hard laugh. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious - "

"Yeah, I am! They all know, and said – "

"Then they're liars, Zach. The lot of them! All fucking liars; and I'll tell you why."

He turned from Zach's personal space, and leaned against the dining room table.

"Do you have any idea how long it took for me to drag it out of him? Like pulling teeth, Zach – like pulling goddamn teeth. I'd see him, right, giving you longing looks across the freakin' room; while you're taking home vapid twit after fucking twit – "

"So, what, he spills it to you one day, out of the blue?"

"No, Zach – not at all. Instead, when we were in Sydney – "

And Zach waved a hand. He knew Sydney; recalled the epic night of drinking Joe is about to rehash. "All right, fine – "

"And because your ass is too busy picking up some twink at the bar, I take him back to his room – "

"So, what, he's drunk out of his mind – "

"And he kissed me, Zach." With the open palm of his hand, Joe tapped his lips; sending a loud, wet smack in Zach's direction. "And see, the kid is cute and everything; but when he pulled at my neck and called me your name – well, brother. He didn't have to have to tell me a goddamn thing."

Zach felt breath leave him, as his blood vessels dried up and constricted. Gripping the countertop once more, he looked behind Joe at the wall, the door - anything - with the fervent hope that the world would be righted, somehow.

"So see, I confronted him about it. And you know, he didn't ever want to say a thing. Isn't that the kicker? Here you are, being an asshole, and I was so insistent that he'd be wrong about you. That you wouldn't freak the hell out, and run for the goddamn hills the moment something good came along and hit you. Well," and Joe gave a harsh laugh, "I owe him the most sincerest apology; for my brother being a fucking numbskull. For not letting him go out and find someone who could love him – no, someone who could love him back." Joe took a deep breath. "Because you can't fool me. You can fool everyone else; but you can't fool me. I can tell. I can tell you're…. You're a coward. Because you love him. You love him."

Joe punched the kitchen door; storming through it as Zach found his senses to follow behind.

"Joe – "

Joe twisted the doorknob. "What? What do you have to say, Zach?"

Zach searched his jumbled mind. There was something - a number of things - that he could say that would all be true, and would make things right again. But instead:

"I just can't do it. I just can't do it, Joe."

His brother glared as he smacked the handle of the screen door. "Bye, Zach. See you tomorrow."

"Joe – come on – "

But words were lost as the door slammed, and his brother hastily left. A curt revving could be heard as Joe pealed out, and almost rammed Zach's car as he left the drive way.

The party was the worst he had in years. Maybe it was just his mood, or perhaps the fact that everything ran out – including the Miracle Whip to slather the burnt ham – that set Zach on the edge of tears. Truth was, he could barely fake the smile that he gave everyone; including Zoe as he handed over goblet after goblet of wine.

Hell, Zach had more than a few of those goblets himself.

Mainly because Joe hadn't shown, and that was the thorn in Zach's side. Their argument ran a loop over and over in his head; with Zach finally cognizant enough to give all his sharp retorts.

Except none of them really mattered anymore. What mattered was that Joe was mad at him, and that Joe had been right. Absolutely right.

Which was the hardest part, Zach mused; as he dumped his second tray of burnt quiches into an overflowing trash bin. All of his supposedly sharp retorts would've been a lie, or a thinly veiled cover of what he truly felt. The, I can't date co-stars, and the I don't want to ruin our chemistry - could fool Zoe, and John, and Karl; but damn if they could fool Joe.

Because Joe knew him. And damn, did Joe know better.

So he had stayed away – and just as well, as the party thinned out and dispersed before midnight. Zach even had a moment to himself, as he internally broke down over a stain in the carpeting, before his mother arrived to help clean up.

"Zachary?"

He looked up at her, biting his quivering lip before a hoarsely whispered, "Yeah?"

She smiled. The way she always did when him and Joe were younger, and had scraped a knee, and were facing a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide. The kind that said, I don't want you to hurt, but I know you will.

She brought over a bottle of white wine; and filled a small cup of it before soaking the red stain at Zach's knees.

"He'll forgive you, honey."

Zach watched as the stain neutralized. "Yeah?"

"Of course he will." She blotted the carpet with a paper towel. "He loves you. That's what people do."

Zach wanted to laugh – Zach had a hard time forgiving, even those he loved. But he couldn't be outraged at Chris anymore, for his pseudo-offense at blowing discretion. He couldn't be mad at his friends, for obviously caring enough about both of them to even meddle in the first place. And hell, he certainly couldn't be mad at Joe for being right.

"What if this day doesn't repeat itself, Ma? How can I start over?"

She patted his head; which is when Zach realized he had thought out loud.

"You'll sleep it off. In the morning, you'll know the right thing to do."

Zach watched her get up with the damp paper towels, and find a trash bag to throw them in. He considered her advice, and knew that it was probably just as good as any; no matter his reality.

He slept deeply, and dreamt he was a fox running from gunfire.

His eyes seemed to open before the doorbell rang. He blinked as it went off once, and he saw Noah's head look up at the sound.

He rolled over just as it rang again; and he felt the bed shift as Noah jumped off, with his nails tap-dancing the hardwoods.

But Zach honestly couldn't do this. His mind was still slightly foggy, and his mood no better from the night before. Unlike the other mornings, he heard the doorbell go off a third time; with Noah's incessant barking the perfect representer of his mood.

Zach kept still, listening for the telltale signs of someone outside his door, or of a taxi pulling away. After Noah quieted down and a silence passed, he heard the nails click along the hall. Another minute, and a weight joined him on the bed.

It was all just as well. How would he even face Chris, now? How could he continue to look at those eyes that seemed to express everything; including the fact that Chris had been just as scared as he was, but had fallen off the edge? Joe had been right – Zach was a coward. Chris had another attribute in a long list of them; of so many things that Zach adored, but could never confess to. Just another thing that Chris could wear on his sleeve, like most of his emotions; while Zach ran away and hid them.

Zach took a deep breath in the dark room, which was followed by a quick vibration of his phone.

That made him furrow his brow – Joe wasn't supposed to text him until 9-something, right?

He tapped the face of his cell, and held his breath.

I'm sorry.

For some reason, those words were worse than anything; although Zach knew they were meant in the utmost sincerity.

It was so much more than Zach could bear without the dam breaking, and swallowing him up. But instead, the flood encased his heart, and made him jump out of bed.

Of all the things Zach had done differently, everything with Chris had remained the same. But things couldn't be the same, anymore. He could avoid it as much as he wanted; maybe never speak to Chris again –

Zach lurched on his feet.

Oh God. What if he never spoke to Chris again?

He looked towards the hallway – that had never been his intention. That had never been in his plans. But in this fucked-up day that repeated, for whatever fucking reason or another - what if that meant the worst thing possible?

Zach gulped. What if it meant that he never got to say goodbye?

He had done that every morning. But what if Zach died today, waiting in that fucking line of traffic? Or if Chris got caught in a plane crash, or – or –

Chris went to Colorado, and met the love of his life? And he wouldn't even hesitate, because Zach hadn't even bothered to say goodbye?

Zach threw on the first pair of shoes he felt in the darkness, and ran for the door.

Zach wasn't sure what he should be doing first. There were dozens of things running through his head – should he call for a ticket? Call for the flight times? Maybe he would get lucky, and the flight would be canceled? (There was snow there, it could happen.) He tried Chris' cell phone, but of course it wouldn't pick up. Zach guessed he wouldn't have either, if he were running away.

Except that would be you.

Zach shook his head – he couldn't think like that. He needed to see Chris. He had no idea what he would say, but maybe if he saw those eyes looking at him, maybe it would guarantee that Zach would see him again.

He didn't want it to end like this. Not like this. In every morning since that night, Zach had at least wished him well in Colorado. On second thought, he never wondered what happened to that flight. He always assumed Chris had arrived safely, just keeping his distance.

But now – everything was up in the air. What if not wishing him well meant things wouldn't go well?

That was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want Chris to go away. He never wanted Chris to go away. He tried not to fall in love with Chris for that exact reason: He always wanted to see him, everyday, that beautiful face; with the eyes that lit up whenever Zach happened to be funny, or the creases near his eyes when he would laugh really, really hard –

He couldn't think like this. He tried not to rage at the service desk operator who tried to help him find his flight. Fuck him for not knowing a damn thing about it– hadn't there been an opportunity in the last week to ask these sorts of things? Shouldn't he have been a concerned friend, who would've been a phone call away once the plane had landed?

Fuck no. Instead, he was raging on the freeway, trying to figure out the quickest way to get to LAX so he could maybe – by some grand miracle – catch Chris departing from there. Hopefully after Zach talked to him, first.

But of course traffic was atrocious. It was only ten minutes to five, and Zach was stuck bumper to bumper. By the time he reached LAX parking, it was dangerously close to five-thirty, and Zach knew he needed to hoof it. He parked wherever he saw the first space –way in back, of course – and then proceeded to run as fast as he could into the busy airport.

On his way to the ticket counter he saw the departing flights – and fuck him that none of them were delayed. What was Fate doing to him?

"Hi," he said quickly at the counter; passing over ID and his credit card. "I'm so sorry, but I'm worried I'm going to be late."

The petite blonde smiled at him – and fuck if he didn't know what that meant. However in record time, he had his boarding pass.

It was starting to feel a bit too easy – until he had to go through security.

The line was practically a mile long from the conveyer belt, and he impatiently kept checking his cell phone – 5:37, 5:39, 5:40 – he just couldn't wait anymore. If he was lucky, then Chris would be the last to be called for boarding, and he could see him - if he left now.

He didn't hesitate a moment in deciding to be an asshole.

"Excuse me." He smiled at the security guard by him. "My flight leaves in fifteen minutes, and I was wondering – "

"Let me guess: You're some D-List celebrity who thinks they can just – "

"It's not that, it's just that I'm going to miss my flight." He tried smiling again at the beefy guard – who couldn't be some infatuated woman, of course – and then flashed his boarding pass. "I don't have any luggage, and – "

"Wait in line." The gruff voice was practically abrasive to the air, and Zach winced.

"But – " before Zach could protest further, he watched the security guard walk away with a huff.

Of course the place was swarmed. It couldn't be some scene in an epic romantic comedy, where he could jump the gate and run as fast as he could.

Zach looked at his cell – 5:43.

It seemed like Fate had other plans.

"Excuse me?"

Zach turned around to a chest-high little old lady, who had paper and pen out. "Are you Zachary Quinto?"

Zach smiled at her. He would have questioned the audacity of such an act, except that when she said his name her voice pitched, and everyone turned to look at them.

His smile grew bigger. "I am." He took her pen and paper, and lifted his thigh to sign it. "Whom do I make it to?"

"Benjamin. He's such a big fan of yours. He keeps watching his 'Spock movie', as he calls it – "

It seemed the moment Zach put his thigh down, several people had their own pieces of paper coming out.

"Hey Zach, would you – "

"My daughter is a big fan – "

"Would you mind – "

"Ladies and gentlemen, " and Zach repressed a smile at the familiar gruffy voice. "Mr. Quinto has a flight to catch."

Zach turned around, flashing a grin at the irritated security guard, before waving at the crowd. "Sorry, guys. I'll see you later."

He heard groans behind him as he was ushered to the head of the line. Placing everything he could remember on the conveyer belt – fuck, did he have to appear in public in these sweats? – he went through the gate.

Which went off, of course.

"Sir, do you have anything on your – "

Zach sighed, and took off his necklace. "Sorry, keep forgetting I need to take that off."

The security guard didn't look amused however, and scanned him with a wand.

Which of course, also went off.

"Sir, if you could step – "

Zach shook his head. "I don't know what it is, but I swear – "

"Sir, just step – "

But Zach knew the time in his head, and he could tell the time he already wasted.

He out-turned his pockets, finding a quarter. "I bet this is it – "

"If you could come with us – "

But instead Zach bolted in the first direction that occurred to him.

It wasn't his smartest plan – he could hear security running behind him, and he had no doubts that security was going to crowd him. Worse, he had no idea where his gate was, and people were staring as he ran like a blur down the carpeting of a food court.

He took a moment to focus his eyes on the print of his boarding pass, and then ran faster towards the gate he memorized. His eyes searched for any sort of clock – no doubt Chris had already boarded –

There was shouting behind him; but fortune smiled as Zach saw the familiar blonde head walking to hand over his boarding pass.

"Chris!"

The head didn't turn around, as the attendant handed back the pass.

"Chris! Chris! Chris – "

At this, the attendant looked at him; and Chris followed her point of distraction. He shook his head in disbelief, as he saw Zach come barreling towards him; security not far behind.

Zach stopped abruptly as Chris met him halfway. It was all they could do for a moment, their eyes searching into the other's for confirmation that this - this was okay.

"I'm the one who's sorry." Zach blurted. "I just – I didn't – "

"Zach, it's – "

"No, it isn't. It isn't okay."

Chris watched him; and it was even worse to see the rejection in his face. Before when Chris had kissed him, Zach had been so shocked, and had averted his gaze. This time the eyes held his, and Zach couldn't turn away from them for the world.

The footsteps and shouts were closer now, and Zach took a deep breath.

"I lied. I lied." He forced himself to breathe, and said quietly, "I don't want you to hate me."

Chris' chest heaved, his head shaking quickly as a harsh laugh escaped. "You're such an idiot."

Zach's breath hitched, wondering if that meant the worst – but then Chris stepped up to him, his hands wrapping around Zach's neck as he pulled him down.

"Grab him! Grab that – "

Chris' lips were even softer than Zach remembered; the taste of coffee a faint memory he could connect too, letting it explode in his head. Hands tightened in his hair as Chris sucked his lower lip, then let go.

"I could never hate you, Zach," Chris whispered; the words blowing air on wet lips, as their foreheads angled together. "You'll always be too good for me to hate."

Zach wanted to shake his own head in disbelief. After all he had done to Chris – okay, maybe on some days Chris couldn't remember – there was still absolute trust in that gaze leveled at him. Cross-eyed perhaps, but still the kind that tightened his chest, and made it hard to breathe.

Zach closed his eyes; pressing their foreheads further together with a smile. He felt Chris' hands tighten on him, until –

He was yanked and pulled backwards.

Chris raised a hand. "Wait, he's here with me – "

Zach lifted up his ticket. "I have a boarding – "

"Then you should have waited at security. Come on."

The tight grips of the guards threatened to cut off circulation, as Zach tried to give a sheepish grin to the worried face. "Have fun, Chris. Um – say 'hi' to your Mom for me?"

"I'll call you!" Chris shouted, watching as Zach was dragged away. Zach nodded.

"I'll talk to you later!" And when Zach turned his head, he saw the frown of the security guards. "Um – or you can leave a message!"

Zach saw Chris lean over on one foot, as they pulled him around a corner to an office, and out of sight.

It was noon when they let him go; and Zach sighed with relief once his eyes hit sunshine. There had been a deep interrogation process, some probing (okay, he hadn't been touched there in a while), and talking with various authorities. But eventually they cleared him – since it did appear that it was only a quarter that had kept him back before.

Zach looked at his phone, and wondered if anyone would care.

There was a text message, and several voicemails.

You awake, bro?

And: "Hello? Zach? Ma's driving me crazy, she's going off on spidey-senses again – why the fuck aren't you up? Call me, bro."

Also: "Zach? What the hell? Your agent just called me – did something happen? I think she was hyperventilating. Give me a call when you get this – bye."

Then: "Seriously, Zach – what the fuck did you do? Do you need bail money? You better call me – or I'll tell Ma. Later."

Zach looked at the times – the last being only an hour ago. He hit 'call back', and only had a second before he heard the line pick up.

"Jesus, Zach! What the fuck happened to you?"

Zach smiled, as he started to recall it all. "I had to meet someone at the airport."

"Can't you do it in Pickup, like everyone else?"

Zach shook his head. "He was leaving, so I – "

He heard a laugh; and Zach knew from the tone what that meant.

"You chased him, didn't you?"

Zach's smile turned into a wide grin, as he realized that – yeah, he had chased him down; run after him. That Joe knew it too, could probably hear the silent glee in his expression.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Zach heard a faint chuckle. "Way to go, baby bro. Way to go."

He got into his car; and allowed himself a silent victory dance, before he drove off.

After he got off the phone with Joe, Zach drove directly to Whole Foods – which, from this angle, wound up being a bit easier to get to. He hummed as he grabbed a black grocery basket, and ambled past the produce.

Chris didn't hate him. Chris said he could never hate him.

Zach turned into the condiment aisle, looking at the different jars.

Chris didn't hate him at all.

Children weaved and ran past him, as Zach picked up a small jar of mayo and Miracle Whip, and then spotted the pickles. He picked up another small jar, and then – because he suddenly remembered – walked towards the end of the canned vegetables.

She was still up on tiptoe as he walked next to her, and reached for the jar.

He kissed me.

Zach almost dropped the jar in shock; the glass thumping against the shelf in a way that cut his nerves. When he looked down at the ground, he saw the woman watching him.

"You okay, dear?"

He swayed on his feet - Oh God he kissed me – again! - and then nodded. He looked at the jar, and handed it down to her.

She shook her head. "You have a connection with those, now. Is there another one up there?"

Zach turned the jar he had in his hand, looking at the label. He then set it gingerly in his cart.

"Whatever you're thinking of, it must be big."

As Zach pulled down another jar, he quirked a smile.

"You have no idea."

Except perhaps she did, as a smile lit up most of her wrinkled face.

Zach picked up sandwiches on the way home. He knew Joe had been worried about him, and besides – cashews could only have held him over for so long.

Joe met him in the driveway with a grin. "Hey! You need some help there?"

"Don't mind if you do." Zach opened his back door, and pulled out a bag to hand off to him. "How long have you been waiting?"

"An hour, or something." Joe followed behind, as Zach walked up the driveway and then let them inside. "How's traffic out there?"

Zach shrugged, walking through the kitchen door and setting his bag on the dining room table. "Not as bad as I thought."

Joe eyed him. "You feeling okay?"

Zach set the mixed nuts on the table with a kuh; the sound vibrating beneath his hand. Zach considered his answer a moment, and then nodded as he turned around to put away his paper bag.

Joe unloaded the other groceries slowly, still eyeing Zach warily. When Zach had folded both bags, Joe had the condiments in his arms.

"So – how's Chris?"

Zach leaned against a counter, and passed the jar of artichokes gently from one hand to the other. "Okay, I guess."

Joe lifted his head from below the refrigerator door, and looked him up and down. "Just okay?"

Zach grasped the jar with both hands, and smiled. "I'm not quite sure. I got dragged off by airport security before I could ask him."

Joe set his chin on the fridge door. "Your agent sounded pissed. Hasn't she called you?"

Zach recalled seeing the message after message on his cell phone, and how he hit 'ignore'. "I haven't had a chance to call her yet."

Joe grinned. "You better. Especially if – " Joe ducked his head below again, "you and Chris, you know…"

Zach placed the artichokes beside him on the countertop, and crossed his arms. "We didn't get to that part, either."

Joe appeared again with a mouthful of quiche, and two beers. "Mmph," he mumbled, handing a bottle to Zach. "therf's alfays just knowfing, just in kafe."

Zach smiled at his brother, and shook his head slightly. "Joe?"

"Yef?"

Zach took the artichokes and put them in a cupboard. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Go and grab me the ham."

Zach eventually called his agent. Which had been an extremely pleasant conversation, between two grown adults of professional esteem and mutual admiration.

"What the fuck was that all about, Zach?"

He sighed. He got why Patricia was upset, but he'd be damned if she would tread on this warm feeling he'd had in his chest all day.

"It was a spontaneous act of – "

"Obviously. Look, everyone figures you're gay, and this will be great for your image and everything – but don't you think Paramount will be pissed? Hell, I already know Chris' agent is pissed."

Zach narrowed his eyes down at the phone. "Chris' agent?"

"Do you honestly think you two can make out in an airport, and not have the entire world know? Really?"

Zach rolled his eyes. He had kind of thought about that. But his concern lessened when he remembered that Chris had pulled him forward.

Still, it was near 6pm, and Chris hadn't called or texted yet.

Zach bit his lip. "Is it bad?"

There was a sigh. "Do you want to know if the internet exploded?"

Zach squeezed his eyes shut. "… Maybe?"

"Well, it's definitely not bad for you; but Chris is probably lucky he's in the mountains somewhere."

Zach winced. "If it helps, I didn't intend for that to happen in public?"

"I suspected. But what happened, anyway? You were carted off, too?"

Zach wondered how much he should, or shouldn't divulge; but since Patricia didn't sound like she was going to kill him, she probably deserved the honesty. "Chris and I kind of got into… a disagreement? I wanted to make sure we were okay. I was feeling desperate, and – "

"Doesn't the boy have a cell phone?"

Zach nodded, before he remembered she couldn't see him. "He wasn't picking up."

He heard a chuckle. "One of those disagreements."

"… I don't know how else to explain it?"

"Well, once you figure out how, you're going to have to tell me how long you've two been dating and such."

Zach winced. "We… really haven't?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "I think I know what you're saying."

"Really? Because I'm still kind of confused."

"Well, once you talk to Chris, let me know what's going on. When are you going to chat with him?"

Zach shrugged. "No idea. He said he'd call me once his plane landed."

"I wouldn't worry too much. There's horrible reception in the mountains, and who knows – he might be getting photo-bombed right about now."

Zach drew in a deep breath. That would be the last thing Chris would've wanted, and yet Zach had inadvertently caused that for him. "Is it really that bad?"

There was another sigh. "Don't worry too much. Once you guys have things figured out, Mel and I can take it from there. I think she's more pissed that Chris hasn't called her yet."

Zach bit his lip. While agents and publicists were nosy, he had eventually called his. "Well, when I talk to Chris, I'll tell him to man up and do it."

"He better. I was expecting a pleasant Saturday afternoon reading on the veranda, Zach."

He shook his head. Zach knew she was probably checking her blackberry every few seconds anyway, regardless. "Sorry about that."

"Give me a call later – anytime."

He knew what she meant, and did their usual partings and hung up.

But the truth was – would he be able to call later? Despite what had happened that morning, he still felt incredibly insecure. It seemed like he could still taste Chris on his lips; the way they had felt and all the emotion they had drudged up. The memory sang in his nerves and put him on edge.

He wanted to kiss Chris again. And Zach wasn't stupid enough to think that maybe Chris didn't want to, but perhaps –

What if all the publicity hurt them, because Zach had been too dumb to acknowledge it in private, in the first place? And with Chris generally being a private person, what if he agreed with all of Zach's concerns - and did what Zach had originally wanted? Could he accept now that they should just "be friends"? Pretend that nothing had happened?

Zach shook his head as he readied the living room; giving the place one last look-over before guests arrived.

Why was it such a bad thing now, if Chris agreed with him? It was what he wanted.

Was what he wanted.

Zach heard the phone vibrate on the kitchen table; rattling against the laminate. Zach practically dove for it from across the living room, bursting through the kitchen door to grab it greedily.

Sorry, delayed in Portland before landing in Denver. You're probably busy, call me when the party ends? I hope it goes well. Miss you.

Zach released the breath he had been holding, and turned his head sharply at the oven timer going off. With one last glance - Miss you – he put the phone down, and set about getting the food ready.

It was fortunate, in so many different ways, that he did have the party to keep him busy. He barely had time to think in his own head, as the Spring party seemed to draw more people than he had remembered the previous nights.

Of course, this might be due to all the bright smiles he was getting. The biggest maybe from Zoe – still in her hip-hugging black dress – as she kissed him hello.

"I couldn't help myself, I looked at the photo on Twitter."

Zach almost dropped the goblet of wine. "Excuse me?"

She looked at him sideways, the grin threatening to overtake her face. "You think if people saw two hot guys making out in an airport, that they wouldn't take a picture?"

He gulped.

"Especially when both of them are recognizable actors from one of the biggest summer movies?"

Zach set the goblet on the buffet table, and took a deep breath.

Zoe touched his arm, squeezing his bicep before letting her fingers fall to elbow, to wrist. "It'll be okay. So far, all I've seen and read are good things."

Zach raised his trained eyebrow.

"You're both so talented. This won't get you down." She looked into his eyes. "Besides, true love conquers all, doesn't it?"

The doorbell went off, and Zach straightened up. "Putting the cart before the horse, yeah?"

She laughed. "If you say so, darling. If you say so."

He tried not to decipher that accompanying look, as he let in Kristen and kissed her cheek… Who also wore a large grin.

Jesus - did everyone avidly use Twitter, except for him?

"Congrats, and all that," and before he could become flustered, she went off towards the living room; where Zoe was looking at his CD collection.

Things only got more hectic as, with more people, more food disappeared. He cursed himself for the laissez-faire attitude at the grocery store; not bothering with another carton of eggs and quiche crusts. But at the same time, the more that items disappeared, the more that people seemed to be enthusiastic about what was left.

"These cookies, man." Joe bit into the top of a striped shape. "The best damn things ever."

Zach looked over at the buffet table, noticing the last polka-dotted cookie on the serving platter. Despite having Chris' baking sheets, and knowing that if he asked, he'd probably get another batch - he reached for it anyway, picking up the platter as he went along.

"Oh God!" he heard behind him, as he put the cookie edge in his mouth. Turning around with irrational panic, he saw a plate of pasta salad smear on someone's pink dress.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Why had he tensed up, anyhow?

"Don't worry," he said, waving a hand at the panicking redhead. "I've got some stuff in the bathroom; let me go grab it. Just – don't rub it in, okay?"

He walked past her as she hyperventilated, and shook his head. Maybe the dress was a designer original? It seemed ridiculous for his little party; but you never knew with these Hollywood types.

He pushed open the bathroom door to rummage through the closet for some baking soda, when –

He gulped. He squinted his eyes, but he was pretty sure that was a hand underneath Zoe's dress; cupping her ass. Same for the fingers that were pulling down Kristen's lavender bra strap.

Zach stood there a moment, blinking at the two women who were wrapped around each other, leaning against his vanity. He wasn't quite sure what to do about the fanboy wet dream – especially with what he assumed were not sounds of distress - until Zoe bumped her knee, and Kristen opened her eyes.

Kristen jumped, and Zoe looked towards the door.

"Um!" Zoe said, waving her hands a moment before pulling up the strap of Kristen's dress. She gave an uneasy laugh. "Fixed it for you!"

"Yeah, uh – fixed – fixed the bottom of your dress!"

"Right! It bunched up somehow in the back – "

"God, don't you hate when – "

Zach walked backwards through the bathroom door, and shut it behind him. He smiled as he made his way back down the hallway - until he remembered he forgot the baking soda.

The woman in pink stared at him.

"Um, actually - I have Dawn in the kitchen?"

And he retreated there; before people could see him giggle uncontrollably.

Of course Zach received the sly question here and there, which he tried to respond to, honestly. But the truth was, he didn't know any more than they did, and maybe that showed. When he shrugged, they seemed to back off; and Zach wondered if maybe the Internet knew just as little, as well.

Which maybe explained all the bulb flashes from beyond his lawn.

But Zach was having a good time. Despite the questioning and crowded atmosphere, the attitude was never disparaging or negative. It was more than he had hoped for.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Karl making an appearance, and John not too far behind. He supposed they were checking up on him – being Internet savvy themselves. But all Zach did was wave across a room, and that seemed enough to appease the both of them.

It wasn't until 3am that the party tapered off - after a rousing game of trivial pursuit that ended in epic hysterics, and when the food had been wiped out (the saran wrap miraculously remained untouched.) Zach marveled at it all – no one had been rude. And mostly, things had gone okay.

"Zachary?" his mother asked, as he was picking up beer bottles from around the house.

"Yeah, Ma?" He watched her wipe the buffet table clean, and then motion to Joe to fold it down.

"He's a good boy, isn't it?"

Zach puzzled that a moment, before Joe's wicked smile tipped him off.

Zach nodded. "I think so, Ma." He walked through the kitchen door, and let the bottles clink together into a recycling bin. She followed him in with a washcloth.

"You really think so?"

He smiled at her. "He's one of the kindest people I know."

That seemed to be enough for her; as she nodded, rinsed the washcloth out in the sink, and then started loading the dishwasher.

Zach parsed his words; staring at the pixels on his screen for any unintentional meaning. He sat up in bed, his body desperately wanting to fall asleep, but his mind crackling with unspoken questions and curiosity.

And in truth, it was also anxiously skidding away from a fear he had in his mind.

With one last glance, he hit "send".

Sorry, you're probably sleeping, but the party ran really late. I hope you're having a good time out there, and that I'll hear from you later today. I miss you too. Sleep well.

He placed his phone on the side table, and stared at it a moment. There was so
much from that message he wanted to be true. Mostly, that he would talk to Chris later – and that everything that had happened today wouldn't be some non-existent dream in the morning, when he woke up to another doorbell.

After a minute, the phone vibrated; and Zach took a deep breath as he answered. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. Must have been some party to run so late."

Zach yawned into the phone. "Sorry, yeah – people left, like, maybe an hour ago?"

He heard shuffling on the other end of the line, and then, "Did everything go okay?"

Zach took a moment to interpret that answer. "I ran out of everything."

"Really? You were planning a feast."

"Yeah – everything. Even your cookies."

He heard a soft laugh. "Well, I'll make you some more. Did you get one?"

Zach's breath caught at the implication, and then, "Yeah, I snagged the last one."

"Good. Did you like it?"

Zach nodded sleepily, and then realized that Chris couldn't see him. "Yeah. Joe really liked them, though – probably ate half the platter."

Another laugh. "Well, it's his birthday, I'll forgive him for that. Tell him I said 'Happy Birthday', when you go over there tomorrow."

Zach nodded again, then, "I will. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

There was a comfortable silence on the phone, and Zach barely registered that his body had slumped; with only his shoulders propped up awkwardly on a pillow.

There was so much he wanted to say. What could he say, that would make any difference if he repeated this day all over again?

"I wish you were here," he whispered; and instantly wanted to take back. He closed his eyes, and was just about to apologize, when –

"Me too." He heard another sound of shuffling, and Zach realized suddenly that Chris was probably calling from bed; maybe warm beneath the covers.

Zach took the opportunity to crawl beneath the covers himself; with the phone pressed to one ear as he curled on his side.

"Zach?"

He gulped. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to have a conversation now, or put it off until I get back?"

Zach closed his eyes. "I don't know. It's four in the morning?"

"Five here. But it doesn't matter to me – I kind of couldn't sleep, anyway."

Zach made a small sound. "Why's that?"

"Just… thinking about stuff. I had to talk to Mel, earlier."

Zach grimaced. Would this be the part of the conversation where Chris would say he made a mistake, and that he'd take it all back? Or that maybe he was in over his head, and he didn't want the bad publicity, or invasion of his privacy, or -

"Zach? Stop thinking so loudly."

He frowned at the phone.

"Mel yelled at me, but – she knows what I want to do. She's known this from the beginning, the moment I signed on with her."

Zach squinted his eyes. "What, exactly?"

"She knew that I did this – that I liked guys. And she knew that someday I wasn't going to give a fuck, and just do what I wanted."

Zach thought that through a moment. "You mean, you've dated other guys?"

"In college, yeah. Just, the last few girlfriends I've had have been long term, you know? Either one of them could've been guys, and I wouldn't have felt right hiding them."

Zach couldn't breathe for a moment. "So you don't want to stay hidden?"

"How would that be fair? It's kind of risky for both of us. I know I have a certain image and everything, but you know me – I have money, right? I just want to do projects that are satisfying. This isn't – this whole Hollywood thing really isn't me, you know? I don't think it's you, either."

Zach shook his head.

"So – okay, maybe coming out will get me dropped from Jack Ryan, or maybe we'll have problems from Star Trek. But that wouldn't be the end of my world. On the other hand – " and Zach heard a sharp breath, "- the night before was. When I thought I had screwed everything up."

Zach shook his head again. "You didn't. You really didn't – you haven't. I just – I was concerned about all these things, you know?"

"What things?"

He wasn't sure how to put it into words. "Some of it was screwing things up for you. Another was – ruining what we have."

"There's more to it though, isn't there?"

Zach took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I can explain it. There's a part of me that feels like – I don't know, that you're throwing something away by," Zach wasn't sure if he could say it, "by being with me."

Zach heard a tch on the other end. "You don't see yourself very well, you know that? You're kind of a bundle of issues."

"I know. And you're not."

"Everyone has issues. You know it's like some saying – a song isn't it? It's not about finding someone perfect, it's about finding baggage that goes well with your own."

Zach drew the covers over his head, the world suddenly a muted darkness. "That still isn't fair to you."

"Well, can't I decide that? Can't I decide whether I love someone so much, that I'm willing to at least try? That yeah, it won't be perfect, and no, it won't be seamless - and it definitely won't be easy. But I'd like to see what it all looks like, anyhow. I'm pretty sure it'll be worth it"

Zach stared ahead, straining to hear every sound.

"I love you." It was so soft, that it felt like a breath on his cheek; a caress to his ear.

Zach whispered, "I love you, too."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Zach's heart jumped into his throat. But he knew it wouldn't escape – he could feel the force of will already; the one that tugged on the edges, insisting on pinning the heart to its home.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to hear that? Every time we're on the phone together, and I'd have to bite my tongue before we'd hang up? That a part of me felt suffocated; like I couldn't breathe for the longest time?"

Zach closed his eyes, nodding in the blanketed darkness. "I know."

There was a quick breath. "Say it again."

Zach pulled his other hand from out under the pillow, and used it to pull the blanket back. He could see Noah at the edge of the bed, the open door to his hallway – the one he might wake up to at any minute, to answer to an unknowing Chris – a Chris whose world had been apparently ending.

He said softly, "I love you. I never thought I'd get to say it, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. It just happened, it just – I didn't plan it, but it spread throughout all of me. Always on the edge of my tongue, I wanted - I wanted to tell you all the time, but I couldn't bear thinking what could happen, if – if you hadn't felt the same way. I convinced myself you wouldn't."

He gulped. "I didn't want to stuff you with these feelings and history and issues that will always be a problem; when you didn't need them. These things that, no matter what you say, I'll never feel entirely deserving, or that things will last forever. That I'll never be able to just bein the moment, without fearing the future."

"But that's my job, you know. Everything you said could be true. You probably have a good reason to feel that way. But it's not like I didn't know that when I fell in love with you."

"But it's still not fair to expect you – "

"Hey - hold up. You're not going to dissuade me. I want you, Zach. You can get scary, and scared, and run away - but if you let me, I'll go running anywhere with you. And maybe someday you'll turn around, and you'll see that you can trust me; that there's no reason to hide."

Zach shifted to stare at the ceiling, his legs bent. He closed his eyes. "I love you."

"Then let me stay? Let me love you back."

Zach turned his head towards the alarm clock - 4:15. So dangerously close to this wonderful moment ending; maybe never existing ever again.

"Tell me in the morning, Chris."

"It is morning."

"Call me later this morning, and tell me you love me."

"I will. I'll love you then, as I love you now."

Zach watched another minute tick by, his eyelids threatening to close.

"You sound so tired, Zach. You need to sleep."

Zach muttered, "I don't want to sleep."

"I'll stay on the phone. Just close your eyes."

"I don't want to sleep."

"How can I call in a few hours, when you'll be so exhausted? Please sleep. I'll be right here. And I'll still be around, long after you wake up."

Zach made a low whimper, hoping that Chris wouldn't hear.

"Sleep."

His whole body betrayed him; for Zach closed his eyes, and he quickly did.

When Zach opened his eyes, he braced himself a moment. His face was lying against the gray wiry coat of Noah's neck, as Noah laid next to him; his head on the other pillow.

Zach peered above the dense coat – waiting - before realizing several things at once.

One, it was light out. There was a beam of sunlight hitting the doorframe of his room, and spilling out into the hall. It wasn't the blue of daybreak, or the unforgiving intensity of afternoon. It was quiet, and laid gently everywhere, including across the bedspread on his body; with each of Noah's hairs glinting at this proximity with his eyes.

Another thing was that his phone was vibrating.

Zach rolled over, and looked at his side table to see it missing. He looked down at himself and under him, and saw the lit screen between his mattress and the pillow. He quickly grabbed it, relieved at the name he saw there.

"You snore."

Zach fell back against the bed. "Like you don't."

"You must have been seriously exhausted, because you were out in like, a minute."

Zach rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm. "It was a long day."

"Tell me about it."

Zach stared at the ceiling, with the phone pressed to one ear, and his sanity pressed to the other; as fingers splayed across his forehead.

"What day is it?"

There was a scoff at the other end of the line. "Good thing it isn't Joe calling you first thing in the morning."

Zach quirked a smile. "I had… a weird dream? I just need to know what day it is."

Zach knew a person really couldn't hear smiles, but there was an amused exhalation of breath. "March 21st. And if you dare tell me that yesterday was a bad dream, I'm hanging up."

Zach grinned. "No, it definitely wasn't."

He closed his eyes again, and relished the moment - all of it. That they still existed. That this time, he hadn't woken up to a never-ending nightmare, but instead to a dream come true.

"You didn't fall back asleep, did you?"

Zach looked at the ceiling. "No, just thinking."

"About me?"

Zach rolled his eyes, but wound up slightly nodding. "Yeah. Somehow, everything comes back to you."

There was silence again, but this time Zach could hear sounds on the other end of the line. What sounded like a cup thumping on the countertop, and maybe faint bird songs in the distance. Zach could imagine where Chris was at, perhaps down to the sweats and t-shirt he was probably wearing; maybe looking as rumpled as Zach felt.

"Where are you?"

"… Colorado?"

Sigh. "In the house. In that cabin, or whatever."

Chris laughed. "I'm in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the paper; while looking out these large windows into this valley below. I can see the mountains in the distance, but there's this vast expanse of white bordered by Coniferous trees. It looks… very quiet. Hopeful."

It was exactly how Zach imagined it. "That sounds amazing."

"There's a fire in the fireplace, already. Mom is making breakfast – "

"Hi, dear!"

Zach squinted down at the phone.

"Mom, I'm talking to – "

"Tell him to come along with us next time, instead of keeping you for a week in town."

Zach heard a thump on the counter. "I'm pretty sure he can hear you."

"Well, Zach – you're welcome, anytime. In fact, if you two ever need to get away – "

"Oh god."

"Katie and her husband really like it here during the summer, and there's some great fishing, and hiking – "

"We really haven't talked about – hi, Dad, I -"

"Son, listen to your mother; and be sure to bring this boy next time."
There was a pause filled by a cough, and then, "Hello, Zach."

"Hello… Mr. and Mrs. Pine?"

"Oh, call me Gwynne."

"Bob, here. Don't be a stranger, Zach."

"I wish I were a stranger– say bye, you guys."

"Bye honey! We'll get together in LA. in a few weeks and have dinner, okay?"

"Zach says bye!" And he heard a door slam, and the walking on hardwoods; perhaps a rustle of movement up or down stairs. It was a minute before Chris sighed.

"I'm sorry about that."

"You had your phone on speaker?"

"Well, I was reading the paper, yeah."

"Chris, that's so LA, it's ridiculous."

There was a small oof as he guessed that Chris settled into a chair. "Sorry, I should've known better."

"At least you're not talking to me on your bluetooth."

"What? I only use that when I'm driving."

"Well," and Zach smiled to himself, "you're driving me crazy, so you could've fooled me."

There was a pause, then a soft exhalation at the other end of the line. "I really miss you."

"You're there a week, right?"

"A week too long, but yeah."

"Enjoy yourself – it sounds so beautiful up there. Because, once you land in LA, you're going to be stuck with me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good. Because I plan to keep you around for a very long time."

There was another cough, and then silence.

Zach looked down at his phone. "You didn't take me off speaker, did you?"

"We're just passing through, hon – I forgot that apron I bought – "

Zach heard a sigh, but Zach answered, "They should know I love you. Now they hopefully do."

And this time, he was pretty sure he did hear a smile.

April in LA was about the right temperature for Zach. He liked to read on his porch, or leave a window open during the daytime; and could sometimes get away with a t-shirt in jeans while walking Noah. Of course, everyone in California thought he was crazy; but Zach loved this weather. He loved Spring.

Heroes would be wrapping soon, and the previous week had been intense work to stay on production schedule. But nothing stopped the singing in his nerves, the way he eagerly kept looking at his phone.

I'm at the airport now. See you in 6 hrs. Love you.

It was ridiculous, but altogether true: Love did funny things to a person. Or at least, when the person knew they were loved in return.

Zach turned the last corner towards his house, a few flashes of the camera lighting behind him. He had been taking shorter walks now, and usually towards night – but he needed to burn off all this extra energy today. Chris had left Colorado at noon, and would probably be in Portland about now.

"Hey, Zachary – when is your boyfriend coming back?"

"Zach! Zach! When did you guys first – "

"How did you get Chris to confess – "

Zach blocked it out. There was usually yelling these days – not like there hadn't always been, after Star Trek. But it had been different when they just wanted him to turn his head, or talk about Tyler Shields, or about another Star Trek movie.

It had been different when they had been asking about things very far away from him personally.

Chris had apologized way too many times – and Zach had adamantly refused all of them. For the record, they were in this together. That meant that if Chris's face was on several tabloids, or if the Star Trek publicity machine was milking it for all it was worth, then Zach couldn't hide from it, either. In a way, Zach could only imagine it was worse for Chris; when half the world assumed Zach was gayer than rainbows, anyway.

But now they were headlining everything. They had been in one of last summer's biggest movies, after all. And according to Star Magazine this week, Chris was already cheating on him with a woman. Or on the Internet, he was still dating porn stars behind Chris's back. Or to US Weekly, they were already picking out matching wedding bands and arguing over floral arrangements.

Well. The last one wasn't that bad.

Zach walked calmly down the driveway; with Noah dragging the leash behind him to sniff a paparazzo. It wasn't about it being annoying, or an invasion of privacy. It was more that if these things had to blow up, they could blow up accurately.

Unlike right now, according to The National Enquirer; where Chris was having his pick of female escorts in Vail.

Zach huffed as he found his keys, and let himself inside. How Chris thought he was going to sneak over here, was anybody's guess.

"I'm not going to sneak." He had said. "Why should I have to? We're not hiding anything anymore. They'll get their money shot, and go home."

Zach wasn't so sure. He let Noah off the leash, and then checked the blinds on his picture window – the one he loved so he could look out into the street, not to a swarm of paparazzi.

But this was it. This was really it. He felt on the precipice of something big; something huge in his life. He was either going to teeter over the edge and plunge to an untimely death, or clutch to that edge and save himself, somehow.

Save him and Chris, probably.

Zach looked at his phone – he wondered if Chris felt in any way the same. If he felt that things were being set on a course that they couldn't backtrack from, even if they tried. Even if they wanted to wipe the collective memory clean, and pretend it never happened; they were on the edge of life-changing consequences.

Zach looked about his kitchen, and wondered how on Earth he was going to waste a few hours – maybe even more, if Chris wanted to out-wait the cars parked out front. (Most unlikely, as Noah had started barking at them at two in the morning.) Zach had meticulously cleaned top to bottom – even though Chris had seen the place at its worst (filming always took a lot out of him). The nervous ball of energy just wouldn't unwind.

This would be their first time alone together since… everything. Since the world apparently blew up.

Zach heard a horn honk outside, and wondered how romantic it could even possibly be with that love music. Or worse, if Zach didn't have the blinds closed enough, or forgot a window open, or if they went on the patio, or –

He shook his head. Maybe Chris was right. If they got their money shot, they would go away. But it probably still wouldn't ease Zach's paranoia.

He wondered when he would get over that. When him and Chris could ever relax together anywhere. If they ever could.

Zach looked in the fridge for the hundredth time, and saw all the options he had for dinner; including the thawing gnocchi that his mother had made the week before. He shifted the Tupperware, and thought it through. For flying so much with the guy, he had no idea what Chris normally did when he landed. Did he usually grab fast food? Did he sleep off the jet lag? Would he want something heavy, or something lighter? Would he even want to eat –

Zach wondered if he should grab one of the beers, and guzzle it now. For fuck's sake, this was Chris. If he couldn't relax around Chris, they would be doomed. Doomed, doomed, doomed.

But Zach knew it wasn't just seeing Chris for the first time in a week that was doing this. He closed the fridge door, and walked through the kitchen doorway to his living room; where the only window uncovered was to his patio. He could see a hazy fog, and a presumed L.A. skyline. He could see where he lived, and how that place was about to change.

They had talked a lot over the last week. Every morning, and every night before bed. Sometimes in-between. There was always the easy banter, and the never-ending segueing of conversation; the ability to be on the same wavelength, that made them such great friends in the first place.

But it was all building up towards something different, now. In every conversation, it only got thicker and thicker; the heady anticipation that they both wanted something to happen, and soon. It started humming from the base of his spine, and only got progressively louder as the days seemed to wear on – sometimes faster, sometimes unbearably slow.

Zach wondered if tonight would be it. The act they could never go back from.

The act - what the fuck was that language? Zach shook his head. He felt a bit silly for taking sex, and making it something bigger than it was. If they fucked, so what? Friends fucked sometimes. Of course, Zach hadn't ever had that sort of friend, but –

Zach paced his living room, hands waving above his head. This was ridiculous. His skepticism could only be taken so far without just being stupid. He knew Chris wasn't after "friends with benefits". He knew Chris wasn't just going to fuck him, and leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Chris had done more to prove that, then Zach could ever reasonably expect - and somehow, he still doubted?

He looked at the skyline again, with hands on his hips. He took a deep breath:

"I'm scared to fucking death."

It felt good to get it out in the open.

I'm thinking I should grab some ropes and ninja gear, and perhaps throw a few Chinese stars before racing inside.

Zach smiled. He knew Chris would perhaps see things a bit differently once he got here.

There's a secret entrance out back, Batman. Use that.

He poured sauce on the warm pizza dough, and heard a reply.

Batman? Shouldn't I be Robin? You're supposed to come and help me out.

Zach flipped open the phone with one hand, and typed without looking.

But what would my defenseless boyfriend learn from that?

And he hit 'send' before he thought better of it. He dropped the bag of shredded cheese on the counter, and stared at his phone in horror. He grasped the phone with both hands; waiting.

It was a moment before:

What about defenseless boyfriends whose ninja skills seem to be sorely lacking, as it looks like I've already been spotted?

Zach gave a soft laugh of relief.

Stay right where you are, Robin. I'll come get you.

He clicked his phone shut; and while wiping his hands on a towel, braced himself for what he assumed would be a small circus.

Zach peeked out the back door, and heard a commotion down the alleyway. He wondered how on Earth Chris thought that Zach could save him, while being so far away.

"Hey, stranger."

Zach jumped at the voice behind him; turning to see a blonde head peeking from behind a neighbor's rose bush.

"Are you serious?"

Chris looked around him, than ran to Zach's side and grabbed him by the waist; twisting them as he stopped.

"Maybe." Chris grinned; his blue eyes bright with apparent glee at Zach's disapproval.

"How did you - ?"

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." Chris kissed his nose. "Inside, poppet. Karl can only pretend to be me for so long."

Zach was dragged by the arm indoors, and he put out a hand to stop the screen door from slamming. But before he could even let go of the handle, his mouth was being captured – his body being pulled towards Chris with a strong hand on his back.

The kiss was so much different than the times before. Not as nervous as the first time, when Chris had surged forward with desperation and terror. Not like the second, when Chris had grabbed him out of relief and happiness. This time, there was playful aggression; which Zach eventually won, with a swipe of the tongue on the roof of Chris' mouth.

Zach opened his eyes at the sound of a moan. He had Chris backed against a wall, with Zach pulled on top of him; covering every inch from head to toe. There was an advantage to being taller sometimes; as he breathlessly looked down at Chris, who was looking up at him in the same state.

Zach tried to reboot his brain, and said, "I made dinner." He wondered if it even mattered. Chris nodded a bit, and Zach backed off of him; although he still felt a hand on his back.

They walked into the kitchen, and Zach retreated to the pizza he had prepped.

"Um – I didn't know what you exactly wanted, but – "

"Pizza's great, thank you." Chris leaned against the dining table, and watched as Zach put it in to the preheated oven.

"I have, um – beer too, if you want some."

Chris nodded, and walked towards the fridge; touching Zach again as he passed. The brief connection of fingertips on his lower back sent sparks, and Zach held on to the oven handle for dear life.

With his mind reeling, Zach needlessly messed with the dials - and then the timer, and then the oven mitt - as Chris handed him a beer.

"Why don't we go in your living room, huh? Put on a movie, or something."

Zach nodded maybe a bit too quickly, and barely caught the narrowing eyes as he retreated to the living room; the kitchen door swinging wildly at his exit.

He walked over to the TV, and wondered what on Earth they could watch. Romantic comedies seemed presumptuous. Lifetime dramas were not Zach's style. A documentary perhaps would do –

Zach felt a breath at his ear. "There's a documentary on the History Channel about Medieval torture methods, if you'd like to give it a go."

Zach turned his head. "Seriously, where did your parents get you?"

Chris chuckled. "It's one of the few channels we have at the cabin. They've been showing promos for it all week."

Zach had to laugh. "All right. Let's just lock the doors, so nobody busts in as the Spanish Inquisition."

"Hey, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."

Zach shook his head at the overused joke, but Chris was smiling, and that's all that mattered. It was a beautiful expression to look at – the way his eyes squinted, and created creases at the corners. The way his mouth upturned, and showed his brilliantly white teeth – the shape of that mouth, in particular.

Zach coughed, and turned away to look for the TV remote. Out of the corner of his eye, he was relieved to see Chris walk towards the couch.

"Damn cable," Zach started, begging his eyes to focus straight ahead. "I buy it, and then never use it enough to know where the damn – "

"Right here."

Zach turned his head. Chris had the remote in his palm, and pressed a button to turn on the screen. While maybe it should disturb him that Chris felt at home with his possessions – enough to know more about where they were, at least – it only made something swell in Zach's chest.

"Hey, move your head – I can't remember what the channel numbers are, out here."

Zach crawled out of the way, and stood up to walk slowly towards the couch. Chris was doing that tick with his tongue; the one that drove everyone crazy, especially Zach. It peeked out of the corner of Chris' mouth, as he contemplated cable channels.

"Damn, I think we have to wait an hour. Black Death, then?"

Zach nodded slowly, as he sat; perched on the edge of the sofa seat. Chris dropped the remote on the coffee table, leaning back with a relaxed sigh.

"You keep it in a pocket on the side, by the way." Chris pointed with a hand over the sofa arm. "I was, uh – fiddling with it, last time I was here."

Zach nodded again, and turned towards the TV. Etched reliefs of the plague filled the screen, as dramatic sounds of wailing almost over-took the announcer's voice.

It was almost too much – this close proximity, this overwhelming need to touch, but fear of doing so. He could sense Chris' knee unbearably close, and –

Bump.

Of course Chris would take it - of course he would do anything to make Zach jump.

"I'm going to check on the pizza," and he flew from there; practically running through the swinging door. He leaned on the dining room table; his arms taut as he looked down at the surface and caught his breath.

What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? This was Chris. This was his Chris. Why was he acting like this? Chris wasn't acting like this. Why was he acting like this?

"Zach?" It was so soft, that he almost didn't hear it.

Zach looked towards the white kitchen door; the wooden pleats of it closed, but still trembling.

"Zach?"

He walked slowly towards it, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

There was a pause, and Zach's heart hammered with the thought that maybe Chris had left; tired of it all. Regretting this awkwardness; regretting this turn of events.

"You keep running from me."

Zach let out a breath, his face closer to the vents. "I don't want to. I'm sorry, I don't know why – I don't want to."

"It's just me, Zach."

"I know." He swallowed. Perhaps that was the entire problem.

He heard a sigh. "You can hide in there all you want, but I'll still be on the other side, here. I'll be waiting for you."

Zach drew in a deep breath. "But what if you get tired of waiting?"

There was another pause, and then, "I'm hoping I won't have to wait that long. That someday you'll stop running, and I'll catch up to you."

Zach's hand hovered above the pleats, tingling. "You don't have to catch me."

He heard a laugh. "Zach, don't you get it? It's not about catching you. I've always been caught. It's about you finally turning around, and seeing what you've dragged behind. Seeing what you do to me – seeing what we both can be."

Zach took a sharp breath.

"I don't want to catch you. I want you to come to me."

Zach pressed lightly on the door; opening it slightly to see a face that seemed more scared than he was.

They stood in the doorframe, feeling sheltered from it all.

"I'm not sure of what I'm doing, Chris."

"Then let me help you."

Chris' lips hovered lightly, taking a moment to breathe the same air before pressing gently; the softest kiss that Zach had ever known. His eyes opened to Chris looking so lost, so sad in the moment. The beautiful face was drawn tight, as if trying to hold himself back - maybe holding everything back.

Zach reached up to wrap his arms around Chris's shoulders, breaking the kiss to angle their foreheads, and looked down. "Don't hate me."

"I love you. I could never hate you."

Zach took his mouth with a forceful kiss.

Chris sighed as Zach used the tip of his tongue to open his lips. When Zach broke the seal, he seemed to break everything - Chris' hands reached up to grab his head, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They fell through the doorway, grabbing each other to keep balance. Zach reached down and weaved his fingers in a belt loop, smacking their hips together with an almost painful, but soothing friction.

Chris let go of his mouth, and frantically panted, "Pizza - pizza."

It took Zach a moment to register it, before he nodded. He stepped away, feeling hopelessly bereft, and tried not to run to turn the oven off.

When he put on the floral mitt, and pulled the pan out of the oven, it cleared his head – but not enough to reconsider what he needed. With a clang, he dropped the pan on the stovetop, and rushed back out the door.

Chris was standing where he was, intently watching him. His silhouette had a backdrop of the LA skyline; all the city lights like fireworks in the madness; a presumptuous but destined calling to what they wanted.

Zach took a step forward, his hand going to Chris' face. His fingertips skimmed the jaw line, then traced down his neck to his shoulder; where his hand dropped to grasp a palm.

Zach tugged gently, and Chris followed.

His heart beat faster with every step towards the bedroom, but once they got inside, it exploded. Zach shut the door, and leaned into it; wondering if he'd have the strength to turn around.

He felt blue eyes roving every inch of him, seeming to strip him bare.

"I want to see all of you."

Zach pressed his forehead against the wood grain, trembling at the implication.

He took a breath to steady himself, but felt the ghost of a body behind him, and a light touch at the hem of his shirt. Fingers dragged it upward, the side of a palm skimming his stomach; forcing his arms to lift as they brushed a nipple. Zach leaned back; the wall of warmth and hardness enveloping him.

A hot breath was in his ear, as hands snaked around and jerked his belt open. "Turn around."

As Zach did, he felt rough hands push his pants down; and an electricity invade his space.

Chris' mouth hovered above the pulse point of his neck, making every hair stand on end. They were so unbearably close, yet still apart. Zach swayed on his feet, feeling the knit t-shirt brush against his chest. This caused a hand to grip his hip.

"Take –" Chris swallowed near his ear " - take these off."

Zach's breath hitched at the finger under the waistband, and the inevitable snap.

He wanted words to come out – fumbled with them in his brain - as he struggled with the tangled fabric in his legs. Chris stood back and watched him, his eyes a spotlight on his every movement; causing a heavy desire to rip everything off.

When Zach flung his briefs against a wall, he stared at the gaze pinning him down. They were no more than a few feet apart, but when Chris licked his lips, it felt like wading a deep ocean. He wanted to kiss that mouth - he wanted to lick that mouth. And when Zach reached it, it wanted nothing more than to invade and possess him in return.

Chris' tongue plunged deeply, as his hand spread on Zach's lower back. It pressed them flush, and Zach could feel the echoing hardness. He smiled, and breathed into Chris' mouth as he slipped a hand between them, and rubbed the heel of his palm into the front of those damned, inconvenient jeans. He swallowed Chris' groan.

A hand moved to Zach's hip, and pushed to spin him around. His calf bumped the edge of the bed, and tumbled them backwards. When they bounced, Zach focused his eyes, and lost his breath:

It was too much - the blue eyes that hovered above him; so familiar to a vision he once had. The wicked smile more impish in real life, as Chris pressed a hand to his chest.

"Move back."

Zach did as he was told; still fumbling with the words to get Chris naked. But when Chris pushed him firmly against the bed and straddled him, Zach hissed at the jean fabric brushing his cock; too rough, but his hips jerking all the same.

Chris bit his lip, his hips involuntarily grinding. Chris' breath shuddered as he leaned down for another kiss; sucking on Zach's lower lip.

Zach wanted to move, but he felt the hands on his chest keep him down. Chris lifted his mouth, and whispered against his cheek: "Watch me."

Zach wanted to laugh. How could he ever look away?

He watched the blue eyes hold too much reverence; the kind reserved for cathedrals and extraordinary acts of nature. Hands brushed his collarbone, then slid back down over his nipples, causing Zach to shiver.

Chris nodded slightly, lifting his palms to drag a fingertip lightly in circles. When a nail inched closer to the pained peak, Zach sighed when it scratched; then moaned as he felt a hot breath, and a mouth envelope it.

The tongue laved and sucked heavenly, exposing sensitive skin to the cold air. Zach could feel another hand trail down his chest, and rest against his abs; fingers spreading over muscle.
When they reached lower, Zach keened as they threaded the trail of hair; teasing to go lower.
As the hand did go lower, Chris lifted his head, and Zach followed his eyes.

When the ghost of a touch skimmed delicately up his shaft, Chris moistened his lips, and Zach's breath hitched.

He closed his eyes involuntarily as the thumb smoothed over his slit.

A breathy voice demanded, "Zach."

When Zach opened his eyes, he almost lost it: Chris' tongue seemed to dart out without cognition, as his head bent down.

Zach choked. "Fuck."

Chris tilted his head to lock their eyes, and then lowered his mouth to lick the glistening tip. He swirled his tongue, then opened his lips to envelope the swollen head.

Oh, Zach couldn't last long – not with this image. Not with that mouth, devastating his defenses with every moan he pulled and sucked from him. Not when that mouth pulled back, and faintly skimmed with lips down his shaft.

Zach groaned in appreciation; his eyes half-mast on the vision of Chris on his knees, with his ass in the air. One of Chris' hands was slick at the base of him, as saliva dripped to his balls, and made him shiver. The other was trailing down his leg, caressing his thigh, then knee, in small circles; occasionally pressing to remind him to keep his hips still.

Zach barely registered the hand leaving his leg, as he panted at the lips nipping and sucking back up to the head. It was only with the sound of a zipper that Zach fully opened his eyes.

"Chris – Chris?"

Zach felt the moan around him, the vibration striking the right nerves, as Chris pulled himself out. Zach was left breathless at the sight, as one of Chris' hands was fisted at the base near his lips, and the other was stroking his own hardness. The sound of wet friction increased, and Chris moaned again; taking Zach's cock deeper. Chris' fist twisted as he started to bob his head; and Zach strained to grab his hair – an ear - anything.

"Fuck, fuck -" he could feel the universe expanding at the base of his spine; all of his atoms ascending to white. "Chris, Chris, I'm – "

He was swallowed; the constriction pulling a cry from his own throat.

"FUCK!" Zach's hips lifted, and stuttered in and out of that swollen mouth. In the background, he could hear the slick wetness increase in voracity; as Zach fisted the sheets and tried to stop his deep thrusting. But when he saw Chris' hips jerking into his own hand, Zach snapped like a broken arrow, and felt everything drain from him as his vision tunneled.

Chris let him slip out with a keening breath; falling back on his heels. Zach gathered his strength, and used his ankles to pull him forward; the heaving body falling flush against him, with pupils blown wide. Zach rolled him to the side, slipping a hand between them to grasp the thick cock; his fist bumping Chris' in the upstroke.

"Chris – Chris – come for me – "

The moan was so beautiful, the way Chris' lips formed the oh near his cheek as he jerked. Zach felt the wetness between them, splattering his chest, but couldn't be bothered to look down – not from the blissed-out expression of this devastating boy; still fully dressed.

They panted next to each other. Zach removed his hand gently to rest his wrist on a thigh; curling his sticky hand. After a long moment they tilted their heads; with Chris' open mouth searching for Zach, and Zach letting their lips touch lightly; a ghost of a kiss.

It was almost unbearable; this tenderness that was stinging, yet healing. Zach wanted to speak so many secrets into that open mouth – the one that dragged so much out of him, already. But in this vulnerable moment, he still wanted to pour everything, and trust it to the man beside him. His mind shrugged off the usual excuses; the ones that defied happiness. Because for now, life felt so incredibly hopeful, and love so incredibly precious.

Chris blinked, and seemed to find the will to pull away, and reach for a tissue on the nightstand. He cleaned off Zach's chest and hand, and then Zach lifted up the hem of Chris' t-shirt. They worked together to pull it over his head, and drop it to the floor. The same went for Chris' jeans and briefs, until Zach had his turn to caress naked skin.

Except at that moment, Chris pulled a bedsheet over them; his arm extending over their heads to form a den around them.

Zach's fingers skimmed up to touch the hand, while his eyes adjusted to see Chris looking at him in the dark.

The expression was unexpectedly guarded, as Chris worried his bottom lip.

"Zach?"

Their fingers together, as Zach grasped the sheet edge. "Yeah?"

He heard a deep breath, as Chris' eyes watched him carefully.

"This will be real when I pull it down, right?"

Zach wanted to smile, but instead lifted his other hand. His fingertips caressed an arm; the skin soft as Zach felt his way up to a shoulder, over the collarbone, until he could feel the wildly thrumming pulse at the jaw line, and saw Chris' eyes flutter shut.

Zach could understand – he could definitely understand. How unreal it felt to have what you most desired; and to feel so wonderful when that wish had been doubtful for the longest time.

His only answer was to lean forward and lick the lush upper lip; his tongue brushing gently into an eager and awaiting mouth. As Zach felt Chris relax against him, he delicately pulled the fabric from the other's fingers; bunching it in his hand, then slowly lowering the bedsheet over them.

When Zach pulled away, he held the sheet at Chris' waist; waiting for the other man to open his eyes. When they did, the brightness glistened in the evening blue that poured from the windows; and watched him.

Perhaps it was out of surprise, or fear, that made Zach hold Chris' intense gaze; not letting it shake him. Not letting his own doubts answer the voice at the back of his head, telling him to run – run before Chris him down, and had him down for good.

But Zach angled his forehead against the younger man's – which was not unlike that time in the kitchen, nor unlike at the airport – and almost like the night before; when Zach had also run away into the back of his mind for excuses.

Instead, Zach whispered, "I love you." It was the only excuse he could hold onto; with nothing else to say that could mean more.

Zach felt a gentle hand cup his face; a thumb on his chin.

"I love you." He felt Chris' hand on the small of his back. "Let's stay like this."

The body moved closer, and fit perfectly against him; their legs entwining beneath the bedsheet. Chris smiled when they settled, and then closed his eyes with the expression lingering; then fading with a deep sleep.

Zach could agree with that smile. And he decided that he would stay and hunt for it, for as long as Chris wanted.