Chapter 4: Domestic

Now that they were set to go, Piers seemed oddly shy of leaving. He was stalling and staving, and Chris couldn't really decide whether he should be amused or exasperated. He'd been cleared to go, and Chris had his things packed. When Piers emerged from the bathroom the second time, he decided a nudge in the right direction was needed.

"Ready?"

When Piers squirmed and sneaked an uncomfortable peek toward the bathroom door again, Chris felt it was time to put his foot down.

"You know when you need to be here next?"

"Yeah, I got a schedule. It was the sheet on the desk. Did you—"

"Everything's packed. Time to go, Piers."

Piers couldn't resist the gentle push. Chris took off with his bag, and he tailed after Chris miserably. They made the trek across floors, through the lobby, right down to the exit. Piers kept close to him and seemed to draw comfort in his presence.

The world got that much more intimidating outside the hospital door.

Piers' hesitancy returned before they were even out. He slowed in front of the glass doors that opened at irregular swooshes, turning his head to the side. Chris noticed.

"The light getting to you?"

"A little," Piers admitted.

Chris dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out his shades. "Here. Use mine."

Piers eyed the pair hesitantly. "Don't you need them yourself?"

"Nah, I'm used to it."

Chris got Piers to accept the pair, and they finally made it out, Piers hiding behind his sunglasses. They took little time to reach the front row.

"Over here." Chris pointed to the black Rover. Piers gave a curious look at his civilian car.

Chris placed the bag into the back, while Piers climbed onto the passenger seat. The plan was to go to Piers' place first and get his things, then get him settled at Chris'. Chris had found a way to talk to him about living arrangements, and they'd both agreed that this was a temporary setup, not permanently moving in. He was proud of himself that he'd at least managed to clear that up. He had no idea how to go about suggesting an absolute lack of intimacy between them.

He'd already keyed in Piers' address—the one he'd gotten from papers. "Sat nav, or do you want to give directions?"

"I don't care. Nav."

Chris tapped the screen and pulled out.

Piers didn't say much during the drive. He kept a thoughtful vigil over the route, taking in the landscape, occasionally glancing at Chris.

Chris let him be. He eyed the screen from time to time, but the drive went by undisturbed. Only when they neared a yellow apartment complex did Piers perk up. "It's the one over there. Brown door. You can pull at front; parking's free for two hours."

Chris instantly confiscated the best parking spot in front of the house.

Piers got out of the car haltingly by the time Chris had taken a detour at the trunk.

"I took a couple of suitcases with me. You don't need to use these if you've got something better," Chris said with a shrug as he took in the building.

Piers' eyes lit up. "Those would be great, actually. Thanks." Piers fished for his key in his pocket and wrestled through the front door.

Chris followed him, feeling out of place. He had never seen where Piers lived. They worked together closely and well, but it was such an odd thing to associate in civilian clothes, in each other's apartments. It was out of place, and maybe Piers was coming to terms with the same thing.

As soon as they reached the foyer and cracked open the mailbox, the time that had passed became imminently concrete. "Oh, Christ," Piers swore under his breath. He reached in, but let his hand drop with a frustrated frown. "Can you get them?"

"Yeah, of course," Chris said. He scooped up a thick wad of mail—bills and all sort of things—and let Piers key the box back shut. He weighed the white mass in his hand, but Piers' uneasy scowl had him drop his voice to a comforting note. "We'll sort this out later."

Piers agreed wordlessly, and they moved on, up the elevator, eventually coming to Piers' apartment and wrestling through the deadbolts and locks.

Sun-warmed, stale room air greeted them. Piers pushed in, and Chris followed in his tow. He stayed behind, while Piers strolled around the apartment and took everything in. Chris had almost forgotten he hadn't been home in weeks and held back, while Piers reminded himself what his life had been before the China tragedy. Piers came back and showed him to the bedroom. "Over there."

Chris laid the suitcases open side by side on the bed, so they could be filled up easily. He placed the mail inside.

"Don't worry about sheets or towels or anything like that, unless you want something specific. I've got plenty of that stuff. Just take what you need to make yourself at home and comfortable."

After a moment's thought, Piers started opening his closets and dressers. Chris left him to pack in peace. He started by cranking the windows open in the living room and cleaning up the kitchen.

He stuffed most goods in the fridge into garbage bags and wiped the surfaces with a moist cloth. He cleared the dishes and peered into the dry cabinets just long enough to catch the bread that would've developed life without intervention.

Once the kitchen was done, Chris went back to check on Piers. He found Piers staring in his closet at a neatly pressed BSAA uniform. Chris crept by his shoulder and tried to read his mind.

"I think you should take it."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I do."

Piers wavered and then nodded. He pulled out the hanger and laid it on top of the pile himself, almost reverently. Chris gave him a small, approving smile and went to continue his work in the other room.

The living room was next. Piers had a healthy-looking jade plant, which Chris watered and moved out of the sun, along with an evergreen plant that he didn't recognize. Smart choices for a man whose days kept him late. He debated with himself a little and decided to go all the way. He went over the place with a vacuum cleaner, even though Piers manifested at the first sound and protested feebly. He finished by going over the surfaces with a moist wipe.

He poked his head in just long enough to ask Piers for his key and went to take out the trash.

As he got back, he joined Piers. "You didn't really need to do all that, Chris. But thanks," Piers said, slightly flushed.

"It's not a problem. It's always more fun to clean up for someone else," Chris said good-naturedly.

Piers curled a little smile. "True," he agreed.

One suitcase was full; the other one had little in yet. Next to them, Piers had laid out a pile of clothes in hangers. They ended up forming a bucket brigade with clothes, with Piers handing him things, and Chris packing them away neatly. Piers left to grab an extra pair of sneakers and get personal stuff from the bathroom, and with little trouble, they were done. Piers' things were packed up, and the apartment was straightened out and clean.

Piers scanned around and then nodded to himself. Chris gave him one suitcase, while he took the other and the stack of clothes himself. When Piers didn't find any last-minute regrets outside, Chris started the car and plotted the course to his own place.

The drive was longer this time, close to three quarters of an hour. Despite the initial interest in the direction where they were heading, Piers dozed off and only perked up when Chris was taking the final turns before pulling up.

"I'm surprised you don't live in a house."

"I used to," Chris admitted as he shifted gears and cut the engine. "Then I got tired of all the housework; there was always something to fix. You'd take care of the yard, then go on a mission, and do the same thing again. And, surprisingly, you get more privacy like this. The neighbors don't bother you and they don't get nosy. The small talk over the mailbox on how the day at work was got kind of awkward."

"Makes sense," Piers conceded.

"Besides, the bigger the place, the more junk you hoard. An apartment keeps the junk levels decent. I thought you'd been here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Someone took care of the place while I was away. I thought it was you." Clearly, it hadn't been. His place had been kept clean; the bills had been taken care of. He had assumed it must've been Piers, which had in turn sent his guilt levels soaring when he realized he hadn't thought to do the same.

"Oh. No, wasn't me personally. I mean, I had someone take care of it, but I haven't been here."

They made the same hauling arrangements out of the garage and up to the apartment: Piers took one suitcase, and Chris loaded the rest. Piers definitely cheered in the new surroundings; he took in the environment furtively, sniper's mind taking in details that most ignored. He was relaxed, though, just interested, and followed Chris up all the way.

Chris opened the door and snapped the lights on. "All right, here we go. Come on in."

The introductions were brief. The narrow entryway led to a spacious living room on the left and kitchen facilities on the right. There was a door right opposite to the entrance, cracked open to show a peek of the bedroom that shared wall with the living room, and two more doors lining up the entryway.

"Just one bathroom. Sorry. I hope it's all right."

"Of course it is."

"My bedroom's over there, and here's yours." Chris nudged the door open to reveal neutral-colored walls that matched the rest of the apartment. He went in just long enough to lay out the clothes and bags on the bed. "I cleared out a couple of closets for you. If you need more space, just let me know or push my stuff out of the way."

"Hey, I just want to say this. If you need help with something, just tell me. All right? No questions asked. Here's your key." Chris took out an extra key and placed it in easy view.

Piers craned a curious look in, but seemed oddly thoughtful.

"Separate rooms?" The tone sounded slightly disappointed.

"You need your space," Chris said firmly.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

Piers dropped the suitcase to the floor. Chris turned and found Piers examining him. Piers approached him cautiously, and even though Chris had a fair idea what was happening, he didn't balk. Chris was given every opportunity to back away before Piers reached up and closed their lips together.

The kiss deepened. Piers tilted his head to get into a closer position and shifted to press against Chris. As they kissed, Chris could feel Piers through his pants. His own cock was firmly flaccid. When Piers finally pulled away, he looked Chris straight in the eye.

"Right?"

This was his chance to say something.

Chris' throat felt impossibly tight. "Right."

The rest of the evening was spent being surprisingly domestic. Piers got settled at his own pace; Chris put together something quick to eat. They sorted through Piers' mail together: Chris opened the letters and left Piers to read through the contents. They came up with a plan to deal with the immediate bills. Piers' hand wasn't exactly in check-writing shape, so Chris would take care of it, and Piers would pay him back later.

For his part, Chris was happy he hadn't missed out anything obvious. He'd gone home the previous night and done a thorough sweep. Cleaned up the living room and cleared out the extra room. He should've gotten it done ages ago, but had always put it off because he hadn't truly needed the space. He'd stopped for a good thought about Piers managing with his hand and ended up emptying a study desk in the living room entirely and moving it to the spare bedroom so that Piers would have an empty surface for laying out things.

His shower came with a handheld showerhead that reacted to pressure change and had an annoying habit of falling off and knocking him on the head, but he'd put off fixing it for a steady six months, even before Edonia. Now, he dug up the tools and fixed the showerhead in place.

The early rise was taking a tax, though. Eventually, Chris called it a night and left Piers watching TV on the couch.

"Chris?"

Chris awoke with a halted breath. It took a few moments before the dusk made way for discernible shapes. He found Piers next to the bed, in sweats and a tee for the night, drawing back the hand that had been nudging him. The street light made way for a muted shine through the curtains.

"You sounded distressed..." Piers was hesitant.

Chris nodded mutely, let out a breath that felt too loud, and allowed his head to sink back in the bed.

"Bad dream?"

"A memory," Chris said heavily.

His voice was too hoarse and lifeless in his own ears. He had been reliving their last moments: Piers locking the door and sending him off, and him being helpless to stop it. Nightmares wouldn't have been able to paralyze his heart like the real memory. Chris lay back, breathing. Moments passed.

"Move over."

The words startled Chris out of the head space he had fallen in. He looked at Piers as though he had forgotten that Piers had been waiting for him to say something. He wasn't sure what he'd heard.

The words sank in, and Chris obeyed, more surprised than anything. He shifted over to the other side, and Piers sat on the edge. Once he had confirmed for himself what Piers was up to, Chris pulled out the second pillow from under his head and gave it up for sharing. Piers lay down hesitantly next to him, close by, without touching. The silence splintered when Piers turned on his side, gazing at him worriedly.

Piers could be dead... Chris pulled Piers tightly to himself and pressed his eyes shut against the painful memory.

After the initial surprise, Piers lay down and relaxed onto him.

T.B.C.

Wholehearted thanks to Gypsie for the proofreading!

Published June 23, 2013.