Sunday morning crept through the windows and spilled over the bed where Matt and Chris lay curled under the covers. They looked like one conjoined lump shifted absurdly to one side of the bed, where Matt looked in danger of tumbling over the edge at any moment, and probably taking Chris with him. The night had started out with Matt not speaking to Chris because of his comment the day before about "settling". Chris had tried to explain to Matt in tones that eventually grew exasperated, that he didn't mean it at all. He'd simply been trying to provoke Matt into being rough with him. But even though that was the case, he still knew now that what he'd said was too much. He was just on edge, they both were because of this game and Chris tried to explain and apologize over and over again. One time he even went so far as to literally beg Matt on his knees to forgive him. Matt just walked away, leaving Chris sitting back on his heels with his foot still securely lodged in his mouth so-to-speak.

The evening ended in an argument so intense, that Lucas hid himself away under the bed in fear of the shouting couple. The peak of the screaming match was when they'd both finally stopped—only to practically attack each other with kisses that were less kisses and more biting of mouths and choking each other with tongues that were over eager. Fingernails raked at skin, the combination of anger, frustration, and horniness all combining into a short, frenzied, duel of animalistic fashion until they both fell onto the floor. The back of Chris's head met the tile in the kitchen where their fight had led them, and he groaned out as a pulsing headache surged from the back of his skull to the front of his head, bouncing vibrant colors behind his eyes. Matt toppled down upon him, his sneering mouth still tearing at Chris's for a moment, Matt's weight leaning hard on Chris's chest, making it ache. Matt dragged his tongue over Chris's bruised lips, his own purpled ones protesting with a prick of pain as they brushed against the opposite pair.

It would have been a good feeling for Chris—and physically, it was. His body couldn't deny the things Matt provoked in it, but the obvious hurt and anger twisting Matt's face over that one stupid thing Chris' had uttered, made him feel empty and small inside. Matt sat up, letting pressure off of Chris's chest. Matt stood up, and Chris could see the glint of the gold band around his finger, the one that symbolized a promise they'd made to each other. They were making a joke of those deep ties with this silly game. Chris closed his eyes, feeling guilty, sorrowful tears build behind them. He opened them again, intent on spilling his heart out to his husband and ending the bet they had going on. But, Matt was gone.

He'd gone over to Jeff's and came back later. Chris was drunk when Matt came home, and he'd barely gotten inside to take his coat off when Chris came to paw over him and whine.

"M'ssorry Matt forgimme please! I love you an' I dinnit mean that thing about settling, if anything I don't deserve you! I wan' you to go to Jeff's tomorrow, for dinner—Sunday…I'll st-st-ay here an' you go an' there won' be any problems."

Matt moved Chris away from him, ignored him, and went to the couch to pet Lucas who was excitedly weaving around his ankles. Chris wobbled over, a half empty bottle of whisky still in his hand. Matt noted that there was its cousin, depleted and resting at the foot of the couch. That one was Matt's favorite vodka and it hadn't been opened up yet. He felt a twinge of guilt and a knot of concern twisting in his belly as he thought of Chris drinking alone, choking down the strong liquid, with slow tears tracing down his cheeks. His own damn fault! Matt tried to remind himself, and Chris's words echoed in his head like a teasing, dark, mantra. Matt was startled from the cruel internal chant by a thud. His first thought was that Chris had fallen and passed out. He was half right. Chris was on his knees in front of Matt, he's stopped to offer a couple slurred curses under his breath and rub at one of his knees, that he'd came down on two hard in a drunken attempt to kneel.

Chris gripped Matt's knees, and for a moment kept his head bowed. When he finally looked up at Matt his eyes looked like crystals glimmering from the bottom of a rippling pool. Matt wanted to reach out and take the tears away before they fell, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"You don' have to…to fergive me thin." Chris sniffed. "But this fuggin' game is over. You win Mm…Matt…Hardy."

Irvine-Hardy. Matt automatically corrected in his mind, as Chris's words washed over him. It should have felt like the biggest weight lifting, but it didn't. It didn't make anything feel different at all. Chris was drunk, his eyelids heavily drooping, as he fought with them like a child fights sleep. He probably didn't even know what he was saying. The fact that he couldn't have said these things before while sober was proof enough. It wasn't Chris who was talking, but the stupid amount of alcohol he'd guzzled. It only served to annoy Matt even more.

"Chris, just shut up and go to bed. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know extac-extactly—exacticly what I'm saying!" Chris shouted.

Matt rolled his eyes, and got up from the couch, bypassing Chris, as he continued to blather like an idiot. Chris stumbled after him, pinballing off the walls of the hallway as Matt moved towards their bedroom. Matt leaned in the door frame, scowling at his husband who was still clutching the bottle of liquor loosely in his hands.

"I wannit to be done with. You win, kay?"

"It's not about who fucking wins!" Matt grabbed the whiskey from Chris. The only thing he was thinking of over and over were the words Chris had said to him and with each obsessive refrain they dug just a little deeper. Matt tilted the bottle to his lips, took a hardy pull from it, and spit the spray in Chris's face—then slammed the door in said face, without returning the pilfered bottle.

Chris tripped backwards over his feet. His back made hard contact with the opposite wall of the hallway, jarring a picture of the two from their wedding, and he sank down with his knees hugged to his chest.

Hours later, Matt had opened the door to find Chris in that exact position. His head was rested on his knees, his mouth fallen slightly open, eyes closed in sleep. Matt threaded his fingers through Chris's bleached hair and tugged his head up. Chris opened his eyes a little and saw his shadowy husband through blurry slits.

"Just thought I'd say that you can come to bed if you want. As much as I wanna…I don't have any right to kick you out of your own room." Matt let go of his handful of short locks, and moved past Chris to the kitchen to get a drink. Chris crawled his way into the bedroom and into their bed, sniffling and crying quietly, the alcohol still heavily blanketing his mind. He rolled over into Matt's place, feeling the warm spot he'd left, and smelling his scent and shampoo against the dented pillow.

"Move over." Matt grumped, when he came back. When Chris didn't make any signs of doing so, Matt pushed him out of the space himself, and curled up.

Now, Chris opened his eyes, and was almost surprised to feel his arms around another body. The last thing he'd remembered was falling asleep in the hallway. He tried to think over anything else that might have happened, and finally came to the conclusion that Matt must have came out and woke him up, forgiven him, and allowed him back. He had to have…

"Matty?" Chris whispered, stroking the soft curls at the back of Matt's neck. "Are you awake?"

Matt stirred, and rolled over. His eyes opened to meet Chris's, their noses almost touching. Chris leaned in towards the soft familiar lips, and caressed them with his, slipping his tongue between. Matt pulled away, his hands on Chris's chest stiffly pushed him away. The taste of Chris, and stale alcohol lingered against his tongue.

"No."

Chris was rendered silent for a few moments, not sure what to say or do.

"No, what?" He finally asked.

"If you mean it Chris, then tell it to me now." Matt gripped the point of Chris's chin and gazed hard into his eyes. "Say it."

"Say what?" Chris echoed, completely confused.

"Hmph, I knew you didn't mean it." Matt said, rolling away from Chris. His words were somewhat broken, as if tears were behind them. Chris muddled through the blurry memories of the night prior, and couldn't put his finger on what it was that Matt wanted him to say.

"I apologized for what I said Matt, I remember that, and I mean it."

"Just shut up Chris, just stop!"

Chris rolled out of bed and followed Matt to where he was ducked in the closet, angrily pulling clothes from hangers. Chris wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, they rested against his belly, hugging the soft flesh. His chin rested on Matt's shoulder. Matt elbowed him, none too gently and Chris let him go, taking a step back.

"Stop trying to seduce me. I'm not in the mood for this shit today." Matt sniffed, his tears now obvious even though his back was to his husband.

"I wasn't trying to seduce you, I just wanted to hold you." Chris said quietly, feeling his own eyes start to prick with tears.

"This whole thing is stupid, stupid!" Matt snapped, slamming the closet door closed.

"Do you want to end it?"

Matt stopped in his tracks, and turned to regard Chris, with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt hung over his arm.

"Do I want to end it? Maybe." Matt snorted.

"Good, cause I--"

"I didn't say I was talking about our bet Chris, did I?" Matt said cryptically, the implication of what exactly he might be referring to cut Chris like a knife. "Maybe I'm not the only one who settled."

"Matt!" Chris followed after on Matt's heels. "You don't mean that, you're just doing it to hurt me because I hurt you—I hurt you with something I never meant. It was a jackass thing for me to say!"

"Don't tell me what I mean, and what I don't! Just—just shut up!" Matt slipped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Chris felt a sinking sense of déjà vu from the night before, sans the spat alcohol.

For a few moments he just stood, staring at the blank bathroom door, until he decided to do something about it. He tried the handle, thankful that it wasn't locked, and smiled when he heard the shower come to life. He undressed, leaving his clothes in the hallway, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. Matt's frame was silhouetted behind the blue and aqua plastic shower curtain. Chris moved across the tile floor, and slipped past the thin barrier that hung suspended on its rings. His fingers trailed up Matt's back, making him flinch. The dark haired man started to turn around, and shout—but Chris told him to be still and kneaded his fingers into the tense, knotted flesh of Matt's shoulders.

Chris worked the bunched muscles and watched the rivulets of soapy water rinse from the dark ringlets of Matt's hair, and trail down his back. The sight easily excited him, as was easy to do since there had been lack of love-making between the two. He didn't press close to Matt though, he just kept massaging, working slowly down the strong back that he loved, feeling Matt melt beneath his touches. Matt tried to swallow back the pleasured sounds that wanted to climb up his throat, the feel of Chris's hands on him was amazing. He could feel the softness of Chris's lips against his neck as his skilled hands moved downwards, working his lower back. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for the words he'd just shouted to Chris, and wondered if that was Chris's intention—to take him on a guilt trip. Things were so much more confusing than they used to be. Never so much had he questioned motives, and dreamed up ulterior plots to simple acts of affection. Matt turned around to face Chris, noting that their bodies mirrored mutual arousals. He pulled Chris closer to him, the blond gasping when their erections pressed together between them. Matt touched them, stroking them together. Chris's hands gripped Matt's hips, his eyes lulling closed as Matt's hand worked over them, the wet, hot, flesh slipping and sliding hardly against each other.

"Is this what you settled for, Chris?" Matt hissed, as he kept up the jerking motions. Chris's hips were rolling against his, in an automatic response to meet the movements of Matt's hand, creating a delicious friction between both of their aching responses. "Is it?"

Chris stilled, as Matt's hand continued. Chris fought the sensation that was quickly building in the pit of his belly, the familiar ascent of a crescendo-climax, the way the sticky mingling of his and Matt's pre-liquid drove him so close. Matt's words kept his body still, and as he repeated them mentally to himself, they made him pull away. The immediate loss of Matt's hand and cock against his was devastating, and literally painful, but the guilt that consumed him for enjoying it was worse.

"I'm not gonna do this." Chris said, shaking his head as he ducked out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack.

"Damn it Chris, stop playing with me!" Matt shouted, whisking the shower curtain out of the way.

"You're the one that started touching!" Chris defended.

"I shut the door, you came in here and climbed into the shower with me, are you serious? What do you expect me to do!"

"I don't know!"

Chris grabbed the first thing his hand landed on, which was the bar of soap and the dish it was on. He launched it at the shower curtain, and it clattered to the floor as he left. Matt grumbled, and bent to pick it up, as he heard a door slam just across the hall. He was completely confused, and maybe he would go to Jeff's for dinner. Maybe he'd stay there over night too, maybe for more than one day. He and Chris really needed some time to cool down, and then maybe they could act like rational human beings. Maybe.