Chris nudged the door open with his foot, a crowded tray in his hands. He didn't bother making any particular effort to be quiet; Alex was sleeping so heavily that if it wasn't for the fact that he'd spent half the night talking and laughing in his sleep, Chris would have thought he was dead. He'd punched Chris at one point, and he hadn't reacted at all when Chris had punched him back.

Chris crossed the room, carefully avoiding the sneakers and clothing dotted around Alex's bedroom floor. Both he and Alex had their untidy moments, but they were worse when they were together. Neither one of them cared where their pants landed, so long as they could get into bed as fast as possible. Whether they'd fuck or bicker when they got there was fifty-fifty, but they were happy either way, and the occasions when they did both at the same time were spectacular. Finding his boxers had taken so much work that morning, Chris had decided the rest of his clothes could go to hell.

Putting the tray on the nightstand and ignoring the lighter he knocked onto the floor in the process, Chris sat on the edge of the bed. Alex lay on his back; he generally preferred to sleep on his side with his legs slightly curled up (and then to thrash around and beat Chris half to death), but his broken collarbone had forced him to change his habits.

Nobody liked being injured, but Alex hated it with a violent passion. Despite being impressively lazy, he wasn't the type to enjoy sitting around; he poured huge amounts of physical effort into his procrastination. It didn't help that it had happened so soon after they'd started seeing each other either. They were still running through that initial burst of massive sexual energy when it happened, and it frustrated Alex to no end that his injury interfered with their ability to vigorously molest the crap out of each other at every opportunity.

Chris had taken it in his stride as far as the sex was concerned, making the most of the unexpected chances to make love to Alex more slowly and savour him. Alex was coming to value those experiences more and more, but the fact remained that it was in his nature to be aggressive about sex, and not being able to give that side of himself completely free rein was driving him crazy. He didn't want to risk hindering the healing process, but Chris knew that the day a doctor told Alex he could officially partake in whatever physical activity he normally indulged in without jeopardising his recovery, Chris would be in for one hell of a long night and probably need something to ease the friction burns the next day.

Everything else frustrated Alex too - everything he had to tone down, or do more slowly, or more carefully, or with the other arm. He never complained, just met every fresh annoyance with grim determination, as though even admitting the injury was getting on his nerves would be letting it defeat him, but Chris could see how tightly he was wound. He'd only snapped once. Chris would do little things for him, avoiding the possibility of Alex being irritated by having to rethink the way he did them; it had seemed harmless enough to him and it wasn't as if he was going out of his way, but when Alex's collarbone been broken seven years previously, Chris had not only let him struggle with those little things alone, he'd laughed at him the whole time too, and it drove Alex insane that Chris was treating him differently. Eventually Alex had blown up, threatening to send Chris home and not let him come back until the bone had finished knitting itself together again, and that had been enough to make Chris back off.

Chris let his eyes roam Alex's chest and shoulders, refusing to allow his gaze to linger on the skin over the bone that had given Alex so much pain over the past month. Since he hadn't needed to maintain his appearance for TV, Alex hadn't bothered shaving his chest and a smattering of black hair had grown in, tapering away in a line that Chris knew continued under the sheet pulled up around Alex's ribcage, breaking off at his belly button and then picking up again beneath it to trail down into his pubic hair. Chris liked it, although Alex had looked sceptical when Chris had told him that. What Alex didn't understand, Chris thought, was that when Chris looked at him, he didn't see skin stretched across bone and muscle, showing Alex's power and athleticism - he just saw Alex. Chris would have admired every inch of him, no matter how he looked. The fact that Alex was so aggressively masculine was just a bonus.

Alex looked almost peaceful, his lashes touching the pale freckles on his cheekbones and his lips curled into a secretive half smile. Chris wondered what he was dreaming about, and then he wondered how Alex could have so little faith in his looks when he was so painfully handsome. Chris knew the appearance of tranquillity was only a facade though, and that if he sat next to Alex long enough, eventually a stray arm would smack him in the face. He didn't understand how it was possible for him to find Alex's involuntary somnolent violence endearing.

Chris leaned down, letting his mouth brush across Alex's serene smile once before sealing over it more firmly. Alex stirred, his lips instinctively opening when Chris' tongue pressed against them, and Chris took advantage of Alex's grogginess to slide his tongue into Alex's mouth. It was only a moment before Alex was awake enough to realise what was going on though, and he pushed Chris away, screwing up his face.

"Man, get off me, I have morning breath."

Chris smiled at Alex's petulant expression and the breathiness of his sleepy voice. "Do you think I care? You looked so irresistible."

Alex smirked. "Would you listen to yourself? Sometimes you're such a girl, I think I'm secretly straight."

"Well, for a straight guy, you sure suck a lot of dick."

"Only because you have a very effeminate penis." Alex sat up and shuffled back, leaning against the headboard. He yawned as he glanced around the room, and then he gestured at the tray on the nightstand. "What's this in aid of?"

Chris picked the tray up and settled it securely on Alex's lap. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Dude, it's the twelfth," Alex said, looking at him sideways, more concerned with the contents of the tray despite his desire to appear uninterested.

"I know. But there are tapings on Valentine's Day, and still I don't know for sure if I have to go to work tomorrow..." Now that Chris had to explain it, he had to admit he sounded like a pussy. "I wanted to be able to spend the whole day with you, what with it being our first Valentine's Day together and all. I mean, remember last year?"

Alex winced. "Oh God, don't remind me. I don't know what you were thinking. Even if I hadn't been pining after you, there are no words for how much that guy you set me up with wasn't my type."

"Subconsciously, that was probably why I picked him." Chris grinned. "Didn't want you riding off into the sunset with somebody else, even if I didn't realise it."

"You're a sly one." Alex smiled, and then he reached out to take Chris' hand gently. "This has to stop though."

Chris idly traced his thumb across the back of Alex's hand. "What has to stop?"

"All this." Alex waved his other hand dismissively over the tray. "You wouldn't have done this a few years ago."

"We weren't dating a few years ago."

"True, but you know what I mean. I know you feel bad that I wanted you for so long, but that's honestly not your problem. I fell in love with Chris Sabin, not Prince fucking Charming. And Chris Sabin's a dick. All this stuff is nice - in a really faggotty kind of way - but it's not what I wanted."

Chris laughed. "Okay, okay, I get your point. Can we still have Valentine's Day though? Please?"

"Well, alright, but just this year." Alex smiled again, squeezing Chris' fingers before releasing his hand. "At least your Valentine's Day is highly personalised. No teddy bear and box of chocolates from you. You put some thought into this, didn't you?"

Chris shrugged. "I didn't really have to. I know what you like."

"Evidently." Alex surveyed the three small packages Chris had thoughtfully wrapped in porn that sat alongside the bowl of Marshmallow Pebbles. There was even a stem vase, but Chris knew Alex didn't give a fuck about flowers, so instead of the traditional single rose, he'd put a joint in it. Alex smiled at Chris again to show his appreciation, and then he picked up the spoon and started laying into his breakfast with gusto.

Chris was content to sit quietly and watch Alex eat, glad that his efforts had pleased Alex despite his complaint. He waited until Alex was done and had put the spoon down before he spoke again. "Before I start being a dick again though, I have to tell you something."

"You're using me as a substitute for the true object of your affections, Eric Bischoff?"

Chris glared at Alex until he relented.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Really. I can be serious."

From the way Alex's eyes were dancing, Chris doubted it, but he pressed ahead anyway. He knew his confession wasn't anything that would bother Alex, so it didn't matter much whether Alex was taking it seriously. Chris just needed to come clean so it could stop nagging at the back of his mind. "When I came to you on Christmas Eve... that wasn't the first time I'd kissed you."

"I know."

"We were on the road last year, in like, May or something, and you were really wasted so..." Chris frowned as Alex's words sank into his head. "What do you mean, you know?"

"I know. I was there, remember?" Alex shrugged with his good shoulder, and he tried to keep up an appearance of nonchalance but the twinkle in his eyes was gone. "You kissed me, told me you loved me, and then pretended the whole thing never happened."

Chris stared at Alex, feeling like his stomach had dropped through the floor, while details of the last nine months fell into place in his head. Alex's rapid spiral into apathy and his reticence to put his faith in Chris on Christmas Eve suddenly made a lot more sense if Chris had already given him hope and then rejected him.

"Sweetheart," Chris began, but he had no idea what to say to ease the pain he'd unwittingly inflicted.

"Don't make a big deal out of it. It happened, but now things are okay. The end." Alex started shaking the presents Chris had given him as though he was trying to determine their contents, but it was obvious to Chris that it was an attempt to avoid eye contact and draw attention away from a subject Alex was clearly uncomfortable discussing.

Chris reached out to run the backs of his fingers over Alex's cheek, but he wasn't offended when Alex irritably ducked away from his touch. Although Alex enjoyed displays of affection, he preferred them to be used sparingly and they'd already passed his quota for the next couple of hours, and he hated them when he was feeling vulnerable. Chris dropped his hand back into his lap, deferring to Alex's wishes. "You weren't supposed to remember. You never remember what you do when you're drunk."

Alex smiled, amused despite his discomfort. "Is that supposed to be better?"

"No... well, yes." The room seemed enormous and Alex very far away; Chris hadn't known guilt could feel quite so heavy and isolating. "I know I crossed a line and I know I'm a prick, but I wasn't trying to hurt you. I was actually trying really hard not to."

"Forget it." Alex gave up his attempt to feign interest in his gifts, aware that he was fighting a losing battle. "Look, man, things weren't great last year, but I know you always had good intentions and it's over anyway. Can't we just close the door on that and concentrate on now instead?"

Chris nodded, swallowing the apologies he still felt the need to make. He didn't have the luxury of wallowing in remorse. Alex didn't want him fussing over him for this any more than for his broken collarbone, and he owed it to Alex to leave his guilt behind and be himself.

"And regarding the confession you thought you were making, I can't complain about you swapping spit with me when I was in no state to make a decision about it. I came on your face last night while you were asleep."

Chris stared in disbelief at Alex's smug grin. "You utter cunt. I fucking knew there was a reason my eyelashes were stuck together this morning."

Alex looked inordinately pleased with himself, moving to lace his fingers behind his head until the excruciating pain reminded him to watch what the hell he was doing. He resentfully let his hands fall back to the bed. "I couldn't help it, you looked so tempting with your eyes closed and your lips slightly parted... you may as well have had a sign over your head saying, 'cover me in jizz'."

"So your defence is that I was asking for it? Seriously?"

"Yep. What's yours?"

"Touche." Chris shook his head, trying to figure out how Alex's unrepentant dickish behaviour somehow made him even more attractive. It wasn't fair at all.

"So are you done confessing to things I already know about now, or are you going to sit me down to tell me you fucked Desmond?"

Caught wrong-footed for the third time in the past five minutes, Chris sat with his mouth hanging open for a moment before asking, "You know about that too?"

Alex smirked, evidently enjoying keeping Chris off balance. "The way you curl the sides of your tongue around my cock when you suck me off? Dead giveaway. Desmond knows I like that."

"I didn't realise it was so distinctive, I thought... wait a minute, you fucked Desmond too?"

Alex snorted. "Dude, everyone's fucked Desmond."

"So when he was giving me tips and pointers, he was deliberately showing me techniques you like?" Chris wondered just how obvious his attraction to Alex had been. "That sneaky bastard."

"Never underestimate Desmond. He always knows more than he lets on."

"So I see. If I wasn't so in love with you, I think I'd marry that guy."

"I shouldn't bother, you'd look fucking stupid in a wedding dress."

Chris scowled. "What the hell makes you think I'd be the one in the dress, asshole?"

"Hello, Desmond. There's nothing on earth he couldn't convince you to do. Or anyone else, for that matter."

The change in Alex's voice was barely perceptible, but Chris knew exactly how to read him, so it stood out like a sore thumb. He looked sideways at Alex and asked slyly, "So what did he convince you to do?"

"Nothing," Alex said defensively, and when Chris raised an eyebrow he amended, "Nothing I'm going to admit to, anyway, so don't bother asking."

Chris laughed, "Alright, you can keep your sordid secrets. For now. I'll just ask you when you're drunk."

Alex folded his arms sulkily. "I've changed my mind, I don't want you to be a dick again anymore."

"Too late now. You asked for an asshole boyfriend, you've got one."

Alex reached to take the joint out of the vase and looked around the nightstand for his lighter. "I guess I should be careful what I wish for. If you're going to be an asshole, I need to be either a lot more awake, or a lot more stoned."

"I think you're picking the right one." Chris grabbed the lighter from the floor and handed it to Alex, but he caught Alex's wrist before he could pull away. "I love you."

Chris expected Alex to rotate his wrist out of Chris' grip, but he was pleasantly surprised when instead Alex dropped the joint and put his hand on the back of Chris' neck, tugging him into a brief kiss that was unusually gentle for Alex.

"I love you too," Alex said when he broke away. "And that's definitely enough mushy shit for one day. I could swear you're turning me into a bitch." Pulling his arm from Chris' grasp, he retrieved the joint and lit it. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he drew the smoke into his lungs, and then he took the empty bowl from the tray and switched it for the ashtray from the nightstand.

"Considering the way you beg to have your ass fucked sometimes, I'd say you were a bitch all along."

Alex smiled disarmingly as he exhaled, flicking the ash from the end of the joint into the ashtray, and then he just barely touched the tip of it to the exposed skin of Chris' thigh. Whether Chris was a dick or not, he'd never be the biggest one in their relationship.

Alex smirked in satisfaction as Chris leapt off the bed with a yowl. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day, cocksucker."