Chapter Two.

Piers awakes slowly, lazily. His body is heavy, and when he moves it, its sore. Why was it sore? Then suddenly, the night before came back to him. Chris. Him. Fucking outside. He runs a shakey hand through his hair. Did that...really happen? Did he and Chris really fuck? He sighs shakily, and looks at his clock. 11:30. Dammit, he was supposed to be into work hours ago. Well. He sighs and gets up, still in the same clothes that he wore last night. He unlocks the door, and steps out into the hall. The apartment is empty, Chris already gone. Did he really not bother to wake Piers up? Did he not because he felt like it wasn't important, or because he didn't want to face Piers after last night? He sighs, and decides since he's already late, might as well be more late. He goes into the bathroom, and looks into the mirror, analyzing the damage. His lips are bruised and swollen. His eyes look tired, and vacant. His neck has small marks and hickies. Okay, maybe he shouldn't go to work at all.

He sighs and takes his shirt off to get into the shower. Piers looks at chest, some places red because of how hard Chris gripped him. There were streaks of red down at his naval from where Chris scratched him. He looked at his hips, and realized...they were bruised, already turning blue. Did...Chris really grip Piers' hips so hard that he bruised him? He touches them, and they ache in protest. He sighs, and then takes off his pants. They drop, and he lets his boxers drop too. His body aches so badly he doesn't think he can stand up in the shower. Oh well. He hops in and turns on the water anyway. The water is so hot that it nearly burns his skin, but it relaxes his muscles.

He sighs, letting his body slump.

Piers was exhausted, and didn't want to go into work today. Not. At. All. One, he'd have to face Chris. But that would happen sooner or later. Two, he was sore, tired, and totally and utterly marked. It didn't matter what he'd do, it's totally obvious someone had been all over him. He sighs, quickly showering and getting out. He dresses quickly, trying to get to work as fast as possible. When he re-enters the bathroom, he looks better, more alive than dead. The marks on his neck are still there, but whatever. He takes a deep breath and takes his keys out of his pocket. He takes the elevator down, running his fingers through his hair. The doors open to...Chris. Piers feels panic rise in his chest, and Chris tilts his head, his expression clouded.

"You okay, Piers? You don't look too well," Chris speaks normally.

"Oh, I'm fine. Didn't feel too well when I first got up, though," he says, doing his utter best to give a smile that looked convincing even though he felt like utter shit. Well, at least Chris didn't bring last night up. That would have been a nightmare. Piers shakes his head, "uh, what're you doing back here?"

"Actually, I was coming back to get paperwork and to check on you. I tried to wake you this morning, but you were out cold. So, I decided maybe it'd be best if I let you sleep," Chris said, and stepped into the elevator. Him being in close proximity made Piers want to take a step away from him. Was this how it was going to be, now? Was Piers going to be like a startled cat toward Chris, ready to swipe at any sign of advance toward himself? Piers jaw clenches, and Chris looks at him questioningly, "uh, care you ride the elevator back up with me really quick?"

"Sure," Piers says, and internally flinches. The word sounds so much harsher than he meant it to. Chris looks forward and then presses their floor and the elevator closes. Caged in, now. Piers feels such clausterphobia that he can hardly breathe. He stares at the floor, and suddenly, he feels fingers on his cheek and he jumps back as if they burned him. Piers' eyes whirl and set on Chris's. The suspicion in Chris' eyes is suddenly evident.

"Calm down, kid. You had toothpaste on your cheek, you act like I'm going to hurt you," Or fuck me, Piers' brain grumbles. Chris' hurt is like a slap in the face to Piers. He was hurting him because he didn't want to be close. Piers suddenly feels terrible.

"No, I'm sorry, Captain. I-" Piers starts to apologize, and Chris holds up a hand.

"Don't worry about it," his tone makes Piers know that he was going to. Piers sighs, wanting to say sorry a thousand times to make him feel better, but he stays silent. They ride the rest of the way up in complete silence, and it makes Piers want to fill it. But with what? What could he talk to him about? Hey, by the way, in case you forgot, you kind of fucked my brains out last night. Ha. How about no. He would not bring that up. That was now officially a taboo subject. Never to be spoken of again. If he didn't bring it up, Piers wouldn't either. He would not talk to his superior about how Piers begged Chris to fuck him. Nope nope nope.

The elevator stops, and Chris steps out. He turns to look at Piers and throws a smile.

"I'll see you at work," Chris says, and Piers nods, clicking the lobby button in the elevator. And as it goes down, Piers sighs. Some day, huh.

Piers' operation of avoiding Chris wasn't actually going too shabby. It was going for a good solid week now. He was an expert at avoiding. He only spoke to Chris when he needed to, and only touched him when he absolutely had to. Other than that, there was a huge wall between the two, which was how Piers wanted it. Playing cat and mouse was easy for Piers because he was quick. Although, his agression was growing becuase he had no way to get rid of it. So his plan was to go work out. The other men of Alpha team were there, too. Suddenly, the door to the right open, and all of them looked up.

Piers mentally groaned. In another branch of the BSAA, there's this hotshot kid, and everyone in Alpha hates him. For good reason. He's after their Captain, and it bothers them. He spots them and smugly smirks, walking over.

"Hey Alphies," he says, eyes pinning Piers. Not his face, but slightly downward. At his...neck. Oh fuck me, Piers miserably thinks, praying he won't point it out, "so Piers, who'd you get lucky with?" Sly little fucker.

"Fuck yourself, Brandon," Piers says through his teeth. No way was he ever, ever, ever going to say that he slept with Chris. No way, no fucking way.

"Come on, Piers. You're already boggarting the Captain to yourself, what else are you boggarting?" His tone towards Chris bothers Piers imensely.

"And I said fuck yourself, Brandon," Piers growls, getting up to go into the locker room.

"Aw, Piers. Are you angry? Come on, now. Stop boggarting, you're closer with the Captain than anyone else. Why?"

"Like I'd tell you, you unbelievable ass,"

"Fine, don't. But hey, don't be surprised when Chris runs off and leaves you alone," Piers pauses. He turns and gives him a warning glare. Brandon continues anyway, "because, come on. If you really think that you've got a chance with him, then you're horribly mistaken. He needs someone who can hold him up, not down. There's a reason you're his puppy on a leash."

Piers whirls and lunges for Brandon. He knocks him down, and starts wailing on him before he can stop himself. Brandon fights back and knocks Piers off of him, and Piers falls. Something cuts deep into his side, and it hurts, but he doesn't have time as Brandon is on him now, throwing punches into Piers cheeks. Piers fights back, socking Brandon hard on the nose. It immediately spurts blood and they keep wrestling on the floor until they are pulled apart. Piers still wants to punch his teeth out, but strong arms cage him in. A familiar musky scent reaches his nose and he realizes it's Chris.

"Piers! Piers, stop!" Chris shouts, gripping Piers tightly to his chest. He hated being close to Chris, but that didn't mean that Brandon could talk about Chris that fucking way. Chris struggles with Piers and finally, they're out of the room. Chris drags him down the hall, getting him into the medical office. It's empty, and Chris looks Piers over.

"Look, I'm fine," Piers snaps, and Chris raises an eyebrow.

"You're bleeding, now lay down and shut up," Chris speaks harshly, and Piers looks down at his shirt and sees that he is, indeed, bleeding. Whatever he had cut himself on made him bleed. He sighs and walks to the examining table and lays down. He watches Chris intently, but doesn't let him know he's doing it. That would ruin the entire avoiding Chris thing. He watches as Chris looks for something on the table, his tight shirt showing every ripple of his muscle. Piers licks his lips. Damn it all. Damn it all because despite being drunk, Chris was right. Piers wanted Chris so badly it hurt, but never got the chance, and didn't take advantage when he did; now he's just spiting Chris for something that he didn't even remember happen. Piers sighs.

Chris turns back to him, and Piers looks at the ceiling. Chris walks over, and touches Piers' shirt hem. As defense, Piers stiffens. Chris sighs, and pulls Piers up into a sitting position.

"Piers, we need to talk," Chris says gruffly, and Piers looks away.

"If you want to," Piers says coldly.

"What's been your problem the last week? I mean, yeah, you're irritated, but you're irritated all the time," Chris says, looking Piers dead in the eye, "and you've been avoiding me at all costs. You don't want to speak to me, hell, you don't even want to look at me. What did I do that made you so mad? And why did you pick a fight with Brandon? It's unlike you. What happened that made you so mad, Piers?"

Silence. Piers gives him silence in response.

"Piers," Chris pushes, and it reminds him too much of the way Chris said his name when he pinned him against the wall.

"Because," Piers growls out and begins to get up. Chris grabs the chair behind him, and cages Piers knees with his.

"Piers, tell me. What happened?" Chris is tentative now, and Piers wishes he could be angry at him. Piers looks away from Chris' gaze, trying to focus. How could he even begin to...?

"Well, last week, you and I..." Piers swallows, not sure how to tell him.

"You and I?" Chris pushes and Piers takes a deep breath.

"You and I... you were drunk and we...we...we fucked," Piers finally lets it out and feels so much relief that it's not even funny. He feels like breathing is easier, and he looks back at Chris. His face is unreadable. Then, he speaks, his voice heavy.

"Oh god, Piers, I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Piers says, feeling relieved.

"It's in no way okay," Chris says stiffly, "why didn't you stop me?"

His tone is accusing. "Uh well..." Because I wanted you to. That would fly really great, "uh, you kind of came onto me. I wasn't really thinking straight, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong, Piers," Chris says, getting up and placing his hands on Piers' shoulders.

"Are you going to inspect me, now?" Piers asks, and Chris nods.

"Yeah, lay down," Chris says gently, and Piers does as he's told. Chris once again touches his shirt hem and pulls it up to his collar bone, "yeah, you cut yourself pretty deeply. I don't even have the faintest idea what you fell on, but you're going to need stitches."

"Alright," Piers said, and Chris got a needle and started to stitch him up. He watched as Chris focused on his work, and he let his tongue poke out to wet his lips. Piers suddenly got an insanely strong rush of desire to kiss them. Chris was finishing, and Piers knew he should stop staring, but he couldn't. Chris turns and grabs some gauze to wrap his stitches. Chris did so quickly, and then smiled at Piers. The smile did unnecessary things to Piers' stomach. Chris gently let his hand glide down to his stomach from his chest, and the feeling intesified. Piers had to focus on breathing.

"Well, you're done, and try not to stretch too much. Don't wanna rip your stitches, right? And..." Chris meets Piers' gaze, and then looks down at his hand. He licks his lips, "and... and fuck. I want you." The words make Piers shiver. Piers' breathing becomes ragged. No, this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. Chris leans down, letting his free hand clasp the back of Piers' neck, "can I...?"

His breathy voice makes Piers' brain go blank. "Yes," Piers whispers. Chris leans forward slightly, capturing Piers' lips in a kiss. Piers kisses back, Chris' stubble brushing his chin. Chris' hand travels lower to Piers' naval and Piers gasps into Chris' mouth. Chris' hand continues downward, starting to touch Piers' already straining bulge. When his fingers begin to caress it, Piers moans in pleasure, shivering deliciously and -

"Jesus!" No. Oh god no. Someone had not just walked in on him and Chris together like this... Piers turns his head, ripping his lips from Chris' to see Jack. A rookie, the boy had just barely joined the agency. And he'd just seen Chris and him - oh god, the horror. Piers sits up, grabs his shirt, and pushes past Chris out the door. Piers puts on his shirt rushingly, looking for Jack, but he doesn't see him. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Okay, now it was definitely time to leave, before Chris caught up with him. Piers made a mad dash for the stairs, running them easily with so much adrenaline running though his system. He opens the door to the parking lot and takes a deep breath of crisp fall air.

Piers sprints to his car and opens the door. Fuck this, he needed to get away from here as fast as possible. He drives home and gets to the apartment, opening the door and slamming it. Whew. Safe. Piers turns and sees Chris. Piers jumps, yelps, and grabs his chest. "Jesus! Don't scare me like that!" Piers exclaims and Chris walks forward.

"We need to speak about this, Piers," Chris gives that same damn tone of business.

"I don't think we do at all," Piers says flatly and Chris steps forward, putting his hands on his shoulders. Piers tries to pull out of his grip, but fails.

"Piers, it's not wrong," Chris says and Piers laughs humorlessly.

"Oh, let me tell you!" Piers says, and tries to pull away again.

"Piers, stop," Chris orders and Piers calms. Fine. Chris then looks him in the eye, "I'm going to kiss you now, Piers."

Here? Now? Piers panics. No no no, what happened less than a half an hour ago when they last kissed? No no no. Piers is about to voice his speech about why they can't when Chris' lips press to his. He tastes so sweet that Piers can't get the urge to fight him. Chris' lips are defined, and when sober, clumsy. Piers doesn't mind, he just kisses back. Then he feels the attitude of more more more. He wants Chris here and now, and he can't. It's wrong. Piers pulls away, gasping for breath and Chris kisses his already mark-ridden neck, wrapping an arm around Piers' waist, pulling him flush against him. Piers has to swallow a moan, but it doesn't go unnoticed. Piers has to speak now.

"Captain, no," Piers says, pushing him away, "grant me a rule."

"Piers, please don't ask of me what you're going to," Chris whispers.

"This can't happen. This has to stop, now. This rule is that we can't do this. Not anymore, not ever," Piers says stiffly, and Chris sighs, releasing Piers' body from his hold.

"Rule granted," Chris says flatly, and Piers realizes he'd hurt him.

He'd deal later. For now, Piers turned on him, marched to his room, and slammed the door.