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Looking back, Neil’s not sure why he thought Eady would leave with him. Whatever they had, however real or deep it felt, he realizes now that it never stood a chance up against the lies. Salesman. Or was it rather up against the truth? Thief. Murderer. The truth was the key, he knew that now.
Any sane person would run the other way upon learning the truth about Neil. When he’d told her she could walk, Eady, being the sanest person Neil knew, had walked. He tells himself it’s for the best, that it’s safer for her this way. The darkness that lived within Neil would eventually have corrupted her innocence, her purity, the things he liked best about her. It hurts, but it’s all true.
He admires downtown L.A. in the near distance as the plane rises higher. He might never see those beautiful lights again, and the thought makes his mind turn to Chris again. The sinking feeling that twisted his gut when Nate announced Chris had gone to meet his wife has never really left him. It’s a restlessness that has nothing to do with the score itself, and everything to do with Chris’ well-being.
Neil simply could not trust Charlene in this situation. Attachments were like breadcrumbs, and the police’s next logical step was to get to her to get to Chris. Neil could easily imagine Hanna and his men using their son as leverage. He could practically hear it: A dad in prison is better than a dead dad. And he could imagine Charlene going along with it to protect what she had left. Chris risking his freedom for love that might not be there anymore is a goddamn waste in Neil’s eyes. Such high risks for a doubtful chance of rewards.
“Fuck”, he murmurs, sliding his palm down his face. Chris is the only person who truly knows him, and Neil is keenly aware of what he stands to lose if Chris is caught, or killed. “Be careful, man,” Neil says to his own reflection in the small window. Were he a religious man, he’d say a prayer for his partner.
**
It’s early evening. The sun is dipping behind the green hills of the Irish countryside, turning the sky a beautiful shade of orange. The small inn, in a quiet town, was the perfect place for a wanted man to get lost for a while.
The knock at the door is completely unexpected, yet Neil doesn’t startle. The Irish whiskey in his tumbler – his third – doesn’t slosh. His instincts, finely honed over the years, are to slink away from his seat to grab the gun he left on the coffee table, always there, always ready. Barefooted and silent, he walks up to the door, flattening himself against the wall. The next three raps on the door are more firm, louder.
“Neil?...”
The voice is muffled through the door, barely audible. Only Nate knew Neil was staying at this particular inn. Finger on the trigger, he steps forward and looks through the peep hole.
A man with short brown hair is leaning against the door, with his head down, unfamiliar and pale. A moment later, the man looks up, revealing light blue eyes Neil would recognize anywhere. Neil’s heart starts thudding inside his chest.
Chris is alive.
Free.
Here.
Neil uncocks his gun, and stuffs it into his waistband against the small of his back. He unlocks the door and quickly opens it, throwing the man still leaning on it off balance in the process.
“Chris!” he groans, catching the man. Out of habit, Neil turns his head left and right, checking for witnesses that are not there before helping the man inside.
Neil feels so light with relief he thinks he might float away. However, his elation is quickly marred by the state of the man before him. Frankly, Chris looks a goddamn mess, uncharacteristically worn out and unkempt, with dark circles under his eyes. Neil helps him out of his jacket, only to find that blood from his bullet wound has started to soak through Chris’ t-shirt. Concern and annoyance bloom within Neil at the same time, although, in all honesty, annoyance has the edge here.
“When was the last time you changed this, uh?” Neil asks, his tone clipped.
“Right before leaving Nate’s...” Chris sees the disapproval on Neil’s face. “Look, I couldn’t...” he tries to explain, but Neil cuts him off.
“No, no. All discussions are postponed until you’re sorted.”
He pushes Chris into the bathroom, ordering him to shower, and Chris knows better than to argue, or maybe he’s just too tired to put up a fight. Satisfied that Chris is doing what he’s told, Neil starts gathering first aid supplies and then sets out to reheat some food on the stove.
**
After the shower, Neil changes the bandages on Chris’ shoulder. Thankfully, the wound shows no signs of infection. Once it’s done, Chris, freshly shaven and still wearing nothing but a towel, starts to recline, like he’s planning to lay across the couch to nap. Neil pokes Chris hard in the bicep, pretty sure – no, hoping – it sends a twinge of pain through the younger man by the way he stiffens and straightens up. Neil can’t find it in himself to feel sorry.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“Neil, I used to sleep on your goddamn floor. The couch is fine.”
“You’re not well. Bed. Now.” The finality in Neil’s tone must have gotten to Chris because he finally ambles towards the small bedroom. Chris always took orders very well on the job, but with difficulty or not at all when they were for his own personal benefit. Neil follows him, pulling the sheets open and piling up pillows for him to rest against. He chuckles at the resentful look Chris shoots him as he settles in.
“Jesus Christ, have you never had anyone take care of you?” Neil asks offhandedly, fluffing one last pillow. Chris stays silent and presses his lips together. Neil regrets asking; he knew how Chris grew up, how self-reliant he had to be to survive. “Stay,” he orders, pointing a stern finger in his direction, before heading to the small kitchen.
He comes back with a bowl of soup and a glass of water, equal parts of glad and surprised that Chris stayed put, sitting obediently with the blankets tucked under his armpits. With the bowl balanced on his lap, Chris gratefully slurps the hot liquid as Neil goes through Chris’ bag.
“Sling?”
“Ditched it. Might have been looking for an injured man.”
Neil decides he’ll allow that, but makes a mental note to get a new sling for Chris tomorrow. He finds the bottle of pills that dodgy doc had given them, shaking free two from it and placing them into Chris’ palm. Chris dutifully swallows the tablets with half a glass of water.
Satisfied, Neil nods. The corner of Chris’ mouth quirks up before he resumes eating. With all of Chris’ immediate needs met, Neil decides he can relax and makes himself comfortable on the other side of the bed.
“What happened?” Neil asks after a few moments of watching Chris swallow spoonfuls of soup.
“The cops were waiting for me,” Chris mumbles, eyes fixed to the bowl, idly pushing a piece of carrot around with his spoon. Neil gets the impression Chris is trying really hard not to think about what comes next.
“Charlene set you up,” Neil states, preferring to speak plainly.
Chris shrugs, and winces, dropping the spoon on the comforter to cradle his injured shoulder. Neil retrieves the utensil, sets it back in the bowl and then waits as Chris continues eating for a moment.
“Yeah, she set me up,” Chris finally admits, “but she warned me. When I got there, she came out and she...” Chris waves his spoon from left to right in the air. “She let me know it was no good, so I left. The cops stopped me, but I was clean and they let me go. I got lucky.”
“And then?”
“Nate,” Chris explains tersely, bringing the bowl to his lips and finishing the soup.
“How much did Nate tell you?”
“Enough,” Chris says, meeting Neil’s eye for a moment, steady and unblinking. An exhale. “Everything.”
He expected that answer, but it still feels like a punch to Neil’s gut to know that Chris knows. There’s an unfamiliar pang of guilt there; Neil should have been the one to tell him, not Nate, and if he had, maybe Chris wouldn’t have risked going home. He’d also expected Chris to be upset about Charlene’s cheating, but the young man just seems resigned, and Neil isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad sign.
“I’m sorry,” Neil says quietly, meaning it. He knew how much Chris loved Charlene despite everything.
Chris sighs. He hands his empty bowl to Neil, who disposes of it on the nightstand. Neil turns back just in time to see Chris pulling down the blankets from his torso with a soft huff, his hand brushing over the brown hair of his chest, no doubt warmed by the food, and possibly by the medicine starting to work its way into his bloodstream.
Even now, worn-down as he is, Chris is beautiful. That is a simple fact. Anyone with eyesight and a lick of sense could see it, and Neil was blessed with both. Chris was tall and long limbed, muscular, but not overly bulky. The long blond hair he used to wear in a pony tail made heads turn. He had a long, graceful neck, and a symmetrical face in which brilliant blue eyes vied for attention with his beautifully shaped lips. Even his voice, low pitched, and honeyed, was attractive.
Not that any of that ever mattered. Well, it did matter insofar as it could be useful on a job – like knowing about stress fractures in various metals, or which explosives couldn’t be traced back to you.
Neil had seen Chris turn on the charm and flash that rare dazzling smile on command. It was like the kid was pulling yet another power tool out of his well furnished toolkit, cold and precise, to get information, or to distract as the rest of the team worked in the shadows. It worked on women, it worked on men, and Chris seemed happy to pick from both camps when he had his dalliances. Neil knew; it was his job to know his crew.
What mattered was that Chris was strong, apt in a fight, blessed with quick reflexes. Exceptionally skilled with weapons. His aim true. Neil felt safest knowing Chris was on his six, with their common enemies in his crosshair. Trust like this, in this business, was seldom heard of. Neil remembers the way Chris handled himself at the bank. Fast, brutal, highly efficient. To someone like Neil, there was real beauty in that, also.
Right now, Chris has sunk a little deeper into the pillows, his cheeks are pink, and his pupils smaller due to the opiates, making the blue of his eyes even more striking. Neil isn’t sure about the dark dye job, but the short haircut is certainly doing things for Chris’ cheekbones. If none of this matters, then why is Neil sitting here cataloging all of Chris’ lovely features and nefarious qualities?
“Did you know?”
“What?” Neil asks, pulled out of his musings.
“Did you know about her affair?”
Neil wants to lie at first, but the idea instantly makes him sick to his stomach. Since when did he have such qualms about lying? He sighs. “The truth?”
The drugs making him more spontaneous and unguarded, Chris grabs Neil’s hand, squeezing it in silent encouragement.
Neil’s heart skips a beat at the intimate touch. Chris’ hand is warm, soft despite being so adept at handling heavy tools and dealing death. What could these hands do when intent on making a lover come apart? Neil feels his cheeks warming at the unbidden thought, as if the temperature in the room had suddenly climbed a few degrees higher, as if Chris’ overheating had spread to him too, just from proximity. He takes a deep breath then releases it. “I knew.”
Chris is quiet, his fingertips playing over Neil’s knuckles. It’s calming, comforting, so Neil plows on. “I chose not to tell you.”
“I get it. You needed me with my head in the game.” Chris’ even, matter of fact tone rubs Neil the wrong way. Of course, Chris was right, but there was more to it than that and Neil wants badly for Chris to understand this.
“Is that all you think it was? Maybe I was looking out for you? Didn’t want you to get your heart broken?”
“Come on. You knew I’d be useless if I found out.”
“I went to her. I told her to give you another chance. She agreed.”
“Is that what you really wanted? Me and Charlene together?” Chris asks sceptically, looking directly at Neil, his fingers going still on Neil’s hand. It’s a fair question considering Neil had never approved of the relationship.
Neil’s eyes drift to the scar near Chris’ right eye; if it weren’t for that small flaw, Chris’ face would virtually be perfect. Neil has the strong urge to run a fingertip over it, and along the angles of his partner’s handsome face, like one might do to a work of art. He closes his free hand into a loose fist.
“I wanted you to be happy,” Neil admits, earning a disbelieving huff from his partner.
Neil cannot leave it alone. His short time with Eady had opened a door, and apparently there was no closing it. Eady had stood in the doorway with Neil, but she hadn’t stepped through it. Neil knows he’s changed forever; he knows what rewards lay on the other side of that door: real connection. He’s willing to take risks to reach it.
In that light, all the events that had recently come to pass were realigning. Every piece stringed together over time, like cards in deck, had been reshuffled and dealt into a new hand. A better hand.
One of Neil’s strengths, what made him good at his job, was his adaptability; when there was new information, when something was out of place, Neil adjusted, recalculated. Here, right now, there was something new, potential he’d be stupid to ignore. And above all Neil prided himself on being smart.
Neil scoots closer to Chris, until their sides are pressed together, Chris’ body heat seeping from his bare skin into him through his clothes. They’re so close now that Neil can smell his own shampoo and shaving cream on Chris.
“You know what I always say: don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.” He pauses and takes Chris’ hand into his own, holding it tightly as he speaks. “Well, the heat was all over us and I couldn’t walk out on you.” Neil hadn’t hesitated at the shoot-out, not for an instant, and he knew why.
Neil hadn’t felt lonely because he hadn’t been alone, or at least not really. He had a companion, had someone to care about, someone he wanted to protect, whose life he wanted to make better in any way he could. Someone he’d put his own life on the line for. Someone he couldn’t walk away from then, and especially not now. Someone who already knew the truth about him and wasn’t frightened or disgusted.
Chris is frowning, scanning Neil’s face for tells, trying to work out why he’d say something like that and Neil can’t blame him. It’s not like Neil has ever been generous with his feelings. Chris’ ice blue searching gaze ignites a low pulsing excitement in Neil’s lower belly, and it’s like another piece of the puzzle is falling into place; the dealer had dealt the last card, turning the straight flush royal. Neil tries to stifle the full body shudder that suddenly works its way through him, only to have his pulse pick up instead.
Chris tilts his head to the side, baring his long neck slightly, like an offering. Neil’s gaze is drawn to it, sliding down Chris’ beautiful throat, his muscled chest, his defined abs. The blankets are pooled around his narrow hips, showing just a hint of the towel that’s still miraculously there, defying laws of gravity, daring the world to tug at it and pull it open.
Chris seems to have reached a conclusion. He pulls his hand free from Neil’s and cups the side of Neil’s face. He lets his fingers play behind Neil’s ear, his thumb caressing the coarse hair of his goatee, at the corner of his mouth. Neil visibly shivers under the slight, tender touch. He had given himself away, sent obvious signals his clever partner had picked up on easily. Even though he’d only made a poor attempt at hiding, Neil feels naked, caught, not caring one bit for being read, gauged and measured.
Chris inclines his head and pulls him in. Neil resists, rebels even as arousal floods his entire body at the invitation.
And Chris, who surely knows he’s got his hooks into Neil by now, pulls him in again, not more forcefully, but steady and so fucking, infuriatingly, sure. This time, Neil yields. Because this is Chris. Because Neil yearns for him, desperate to connect with him in every way, all the ways he hadn’t thought of before.
For a moment Neil just lets himself appreciate the warmth and softness of Chris’ lips, the wet slide of them against his own. It’s gentle, almost sweet, but it also sends a surge of desire through Neil, like electricity crackling under his skin. Chris has his own ideas about how the kiss should go. He licks at Neil’s mouth, and deepens the kiss, groaning softly with obvious contentment when Neil lets him in. The noise goes straight to Neil’s groin, makes him want to taste more of Chris.
Neil disengages to press kisses down Chris’ chin and down his throat, nuzzling into his neck before licking a stripe up to his ear, enjoying the clean, slightly salty taste of him. He drags his teeth over the sensitive skin, leaving red marks that will soon meld with the blush of arousal already starting to spread across Chris’ neck and chest.
Chris slides his good hand down, hot palm caressing Neil’s chest, feeling him up through the silky material of his expensive white button-up shirt. Then he makes clear that he wants more than Neil’s mouth, placing his palm over Neil’s crotch, over the gray fabric of his slacks. It’s a barely there touch that snaps Neil out of the spell.
“Stop. You’re... You’re not in your right mind,” Neil protests, overtaken by a last flicker of conscience before going completely off the rails, suddenly remembering that Chris is on pain meds.
Chris pulls back, but leaves his hand where it is, feather-like but definitely there, enough to make Neil’s cock fill in even more.
“What? You think I never thought of this before?” Chris asks through a smirk, flashing some teeth. His blue eyes smoldering, he applies a tiny amount of pressure over Neil’s crotch, a challenge to say no to that, like he knows Neil is already way passed it. He’s not wrong. How could Neil resist when Chris is smiling for him, when he’s admitting that he’s thought about seducing Neil before? Suddenly, all his misgivings seem utterly foolish.
Then the kid goes and tops it all by pulling his hand away to pat his lap invitingly and saying: “Now come here and get your dick out for me.”
Neil wonders if Chris can smell the burnt smell of his brain completely short-circuiting. Hot need burning through him, Neil carefully straddles Chris, not wanting to jostle the injured man in his nest of pillows. Chris forgets himself, tries to reach for the top button of Neils’ shirt, letting out a pained groan.
“Hey. Don’t fucking move.” It comes out more feral than Neil means it to sound, but just as much as he actually feels. “Just sit back and relax. I got this,” Neil reassures him, schooling his tone into something more gentle, already working the offending button out of its hole. He unbuttons his shirt and leaves it on, gaping open; Chris drinks him in, his eyes latching onto every inch of skin revealed.
Neil undoes his slacks next, under Chris’ watchful, hungry eyes, the young man as still and laser focused as he would be on a job. Neil opens his fly and pushes his underwear down, exposing his half hard cock to the other man’s gaze. The way Chris licks his lips at the sight sends a fresh wave of arousal through Neil. God, his lips.
Neil catches Chris’ lips again, kissing him deeply as he runs his hands down Chris’ sides, over the ink of his tattoos, touching all the skin he can reach while avoiding his injured shoulder. Chris moans softly into the kiss when Neil pinches one of his nipples. Neil does it again and again, until Chris is squirming, the muscles of his toned stomach rolling alluringly, and Neil is afraid he might make a wrong move and hurt his shoulder again.
Neil pulls back, leaving Chris flushed and breathing hard. Chris looks down at himself and raises a challenging eyebrow at Neil.
Receiving the message loud and clear, Neil unfastens the towel. It parts easily, revealing Chris’ erection, fully hard, proudly leaning against Chris’ flat stomach. Neil takes it in hand, watching Chris melt against the pillows with a low pitch hum, his eyes rolling back in his head. Neil watches for a while, pays close attention to Chris, learning this new side of him. His handsome face is slack with pleasure, his pink mouth slightly open, his tongue sliding out to slowly lick his pillowy bottom lip, leaving it shiny. Neil was wrong; his scar is not a flaw. It’s part of Chris, and Chris is perfect.
“You’re gorgeous,” Neil murmurs in admiration, as he works Chris in his fist now slicked with the young man’s precum. The words seem to spur Chris into action; he opens his eyes, just small radiant slivers of sky blue, and reaches for Neil’s cock, ignoring his partner's order from earlier. Chris’ hand feels better than he imagined, and Neil is so turned on, he can only be grateful for the disobedience, and chokes out a string of swears at the touch.
Neil’s eagerness has morphed into something akin to greed. He’s not used to want someone, or anything for that matter, this badly. It’s saying something considering Neil had just pulled a multi-million dollar heist right under the noses of the LAPD. It should feel scary but it’s mostly just exhilarating. He cups Chris’ cheek, makes him look into his eyes, runs the pad of his thumb over his slick cockhead. “You like that?” he asks, his voice rough, his tone teasing.
Chris nods in his grip, and just purrs, his deft hand sliding up and down Neil’s cock, adding a smooth twisting motion that drives Neil absolutely crazy. He shamelessly rocks his hips into it.
“This is nothing,” Neil growls, holding Chris’ jaw possessively. “When you feel better, when that collarbone’s healed, I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll need both arms to hold on to the bed frame. I’ll make you feel so good you won't know your head from your tail, or which way's up...” It is said like a promise, with that tone of absolute authority Neil had perfected over his criminal career. The one he usually reserved for threats.
Chris moans and comes abruptly, bucking and arching under Neil’s weight, his seed pulsing out of him in long spurts, all over himself, all over Neil’s hand. The sounds tumbling out of Chris’ plush lips are beautiful and filthy, and entirely addictive.
Even titanium has its breaking point, and seeing Chris come unraveled is Neil’s. Hunched over, Neil presses his forehead to Chris’ and soon, he goes over the edge too, his spine turning to liquid, his vision narrowing, his cock twitching in Chris’ hand expertly working him through his climax. His own come lands all over Chris’ stomach, mingling with the seed already there. Something dark and selfish curls pleasantly inside Neil’s chest at the sight.
Neil takes a moment to catch his breath, enjoying the haze of pleasure in his body, the emptiness of his mind, the sight of the sated beautiful man beneath him.
Neil cleans them both using the towel, then settles next to Chris, their shoulders touching. He can’t help looking at Chris, who has now tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Chris looks debauched, still red faced, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. He looks just about ready to fall asleep, which pleases Neil.
There’s a good chance this is just another example of Chris’ poor impulse control, another meaningless affair. If that’s the case, Neil will take what he can get, because that greed didn’t die with his release. It’s still burning in his chest, in his belly, bright and steady. Either way, Neil needs Chris to know the truth.
“You’re it, you know,” Neil murmurs, brushing damp hair away from Chris’ forehead. “You’re all I have, all I need.”
Chris opens his eyes, now glazed and unfocused, and he frowns at Neil. “Neil...” he utters roughly, his gaze losing some of its glassy quality.
“I know Charlene is your sun...” Neil falters. Saying these things feels like jumping off a cliff. Like knowingly walking into a trap without back up. Risks.
Chris slowly takes Neil’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “And you’re the air I breathe, Neil.”
Chris smiles, wide and stunning, and Neil forgets to breathe. Rewards.