Work Text:
//
hey, gonna be in LA the 3rd thru the 6th. will you be in town?
Chris thumbs open his text history, licks his bottom lip. He’s at his desk at home, so he flips open his leatherbound notebook with painstakingly kept lists and dates and notes. Looks like he’s busy right up until the fifth. Meanwhile his phone’s gone black, so he touches his thumb just so to open it again, the message from Zach still bright and clear, sitting patiently on the screen. He taps out a quick sure am. dinner on the fifth?
There’s a swoosh as the message is delivered, and a beat before the typing animation appears. Chris takes a breath but then locks his phone and lays it face down on the desk while he answers yet another email from his publicist. He waits until he’s hit send to turn the phone back over even after he hears the quiet buzz dim and go silent.
sounds good!
There’s nothing much left to say after that. Chris fiddles with his phone a while, until he realizes he’s spent the last minute staring out his window. He’s got more than a month to wait for Zach’s visit though, so he forces himself to put it out of mind and return to his email inbox. He’s learned how to set aside his longing for Zach’s company in moments like these, where the waiting between them is too long to just stand around in eagerness. He’ll see Zach soon enough.
//
A few weeks before he knows Zach’s going to be in town, Chris has a duh moment and handles the dinner reservation. He knows by now that Miles is going to be flying in too, and actually he’s the reason they’re in town to begin with. Chris makes a reservation at Mozza for three. Or rather, he calls his assistant to make the reservation for him after he tries to do it online and sees it’s booked for the next three months, except for one night on a Tuesday at 10:45pm. His assistant’s usually pretty good with things like this—she somehow seems to know someone at every Jonathan Gold’s 101 ranked restaurant in town. He’s stopped beating himself up for using his celebrity and connections in this town—it’s just a way of life. Plus he totally spaced on this. He should have made reservations the night Zach first texted him, or when he sent the follow up text a couple weeks later about Miles’s photoset.
Chris likes Miles, he really does. The guy’s young, very young. But Chris isn’t a saint, he’s gone to bed with women of a similar age. Miles legitimately seems to make Zach happy, which is what matters most to Chris. And the three of them can actually have a good time together. Chris is under no pretension that he would remain friends with Miles if he and Zach ever broke up (see: Zach's past boyfriends), but they're definitely friends in the here-and-now.
So if it ends up being the three of them for dinner, that’s fine. Chris and Zach have their entire lives to have dinner together and catch up. Luckily, their careers afford them the luxury of travel and excuses to be in the same city at the same time. Chris doesn’t get jealous of Zach’s new friends the way he used to. It’s not a competition. He knows Zach will always search him out when the opportunity arises, because he’s been doing so for the last ten years. They pick up where they left off the last time. And maybe Chris dreams about all his friends living in one big house together on a farm sometimes, but that’s just a fantasy. He’d probably lose it if he didn’t have his own space.
Speaking of, he’s picked up his guitar for the first time in several months and is fucking around on his laptop trying to figure out what song he wants to learn next. He’s up for a bit of a challenge, and he has a warm notion of Zach playing with him when he comes to visit, if they end up getting any time to hang out after dinner.
Just in case, he picks up his phone again and texts: hey what song you wanna learn next? i have one in mind if you don’t.
send!
So Chris sends him the tabs he found online, so Zach can figure out the banjo chords. Chris picks up his guitar again, lets his fingers pinch and slide until the tips are numb. It always hurts a little, starting to build the calluses over again, but it’s worth it.
//
The day Zach and Miles are due to land in LA, Chris lets himself get excited. He’s going to be busy the next couple days with work and meetings, so he takes the day to go over his house to make sure it’s company-ready.
Excited isn’t really the right word for what he’s feeling, though. He’s looking forward to seeing Zach, for sure, but they’ve talked recently—it’s not like it’s been forever since they’ve hung out. Six months, yeah, but they’ve gone for longer over the span of their ten-year friendship. Before the second Trek movie they didn’t see each other for nearly a year, and they hadn’t even spoken on the phone that whole time for, well, reasons. So Chris has learned to manage expectations.
It’s more that Zach’s coming to town, and Miles is with him this time. Chris doesn’t know if that means that he and Zach will get any time alone together. That… that in particular is what they haven’t had for quite some time now. Work happens, things come up, and sometimes the timing is just not right. On occasions when Chris is in New York, they get dinner, they hang out with mutual friends. But Chris never stays at Miles and Zach’s apartment because they don’t really have room, and he doesn’t want to intrude on their space anyway. The last time they hung out before that was the press tour for Beyond, around all their Trek friends and coworkers and subsequent handlers and… that summer had also just been a really emotional time.
Zach had been in town frequently—first for Anton’s funeral, then for work. They spent as much time together as possible, though mostly with mutual friends who also needed the comfort of company. Chris remembers one particular stolen moment in his kitchen: in a fit of torment, he’d walked Zach backwards into the cabinet and kissed him until their teeth clacked, and Zach had twisted away, laughing gently. He’d calmed Chris with a warm hand to the nape of his neck and he’d said, “Baby it’s all right. Shush.” He’d held Chris until he stopped shaking, and they returned to the patio where their friends were waiting for them.
So even whenever they did have a moment alone together, they weren’t exactly in the mood for sex. Not until one night in Japan where Chris was able to steal into Zach’s room. Zach had just lifted the covers for him to crawl in, Chris didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t really talk much at all that night. The sex had been spectacular, tinged as usual with a little bit of desperation. But then Zach had flown back early the next day, and Chris has barely seen him since.
It’s not like Chris needs Zach in his life 24/7. Whenever they can’t see each other for a while, it’s okay. If Chris lets himself think about Zach too much, the pain of his absence can linger for months. So sometimes it’s easier to not talk too often on the phone in between, knowing it’s still going to be months before they’ll be in the same state again. Maybe if Zach had never gone to New York in the first place, maybe if Chris hadn’t had a girlfriend the first time they met, maybe then things would be different. But Chris and Zach have learned how to be without each other, and still be able to come right back to it whenever they can. Sometimes Chris thinks it’s probably for the best that they never had a chance to really fuck it all up, because Chris knows for sure now, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to have Zach in his life forever. That whenever they are in the same city, they can pick up where they left off. Zach is his best friend. One of his best friends. Chris loves him, and he gets to rest in the knowledge that Zach loves him too. He doesn’t have to look at it too closely—what they have is not going to wear out.
Chris can see too how Miles is good for Zach, how he gives Zach what he needs, things Chris can’t give him. Chris could never begrudge Zach’s happiness. So whenever he sees them together, Chris can only feel a sense of rightness, because he has searched and searched his heart for any kernel of jealousy, and it just isn’t there.
//
It’s finally the night of, and Chris is starting to really feel it—almost an ache in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know Zach’s schedule, and they haven’t spoken any more about it, but he hopes Zach will come home with him tonight. It’s been a while, for them but also for Chris in general. He’s less interested in playing the dating game lately, the return on investment being as low as it is. So it’s been longer than usual since he’s spent the night with anyone.
Chris gets to the restaurant a little early, knowing LA traffic on a Friday night is going to be insane. The restaurant is small and cozy, bustling with people and good smells. He sits at the table to wait, trying to not take his phone out to occupy himself but failing almost immediately. He spends several minutes just catching up on the news, but gives up on that too in order to not spoil his dinner. He settles for thumbing through the extensive wine menu.
When Chris feels someone walk up behind him, he glances up and suddenly there are his friends. He stands, already feeling warmer in his chest, grin stretching from down deep inside as he gives Zach a good, solid hug. Zach’s so sturdy these days, he’s definitely put on weight, but Chris doesn’t mind in the slightest. He’s just a more solid weight to hold onto. Zach’s wearing this lightweight button up and a dark grey sweater, and his hair is still short and growing back in from his recent buzz. Although he’s sweetly clean shaven, he just looks so much like a Dad in his thick-rimmed glasses these days that Chris momentarily gets distracted by the thought of him with theoretical future kids. He shares a good but shorter hug with Miles while he wrangles his heart back down out of his throat. They sit down, and it takes him a moment of grinning to himself from the sight of these friends again before he notices Zach’s just looking at him, a soft smile curving his mouth. “What?”
“It’s good to see you, man,” Chris smiles at him, at Miles too. “Tell me what’s been going on.”
//
Chris and Zach order white wine because they’re getting older and heartburn is like, an actual thing. Miles’s young ass orders a beautiful glass of sangiovese, but is gracious enough to share a taste with both of them, all the while giving them sufficient shit for acting like old men.
They order burrata with leeks and burrata with mint and parmesan, both served with the most perfectly crisp and soft bread Chris has ever tasted. He could just about die and go to heaven right now. They go to town on the cheese and catch each other up on their lives the last few months, which is mostly work for all three of them. Miles is a man after Chris’s own heart, and orders two pastas primi and two secondi plates for them all to share. Both pastas make Zach groan in happiness, and then the duck and roasted sea trout come out with a plate of crispy sunchokes.
By the time they pack it all down, they’ve finished the first glasses of wine as well as a shared bottle, and Miles orders a round of grappa in chilled straight shot glasses for the table. He and Chris both laugh at Zach’s virtuous grimace at the taste of the fragrant digestive that Miles had insisted was necessary after such an Italian meal. Zach refuses to finish his drink, so Miles does it for him, sweetly petting his shoulder. “I thought you were supposed to be Italian my love.”
Chris keeps his eyes on Zach’s bitten off smile while he takes another sip of his own glass and tries not to laugh at him. He coughs a little at the liquor tickling the back of his throat and sets the glass back down. He feels the need to linger over this last drink, not only to sober up to drive home but also to keep them here at this moment. Miles looks pretty wiped, despite his cheeriness. It’s starting to feel like the night is winding down. At the thought of having to drive home soon, he actually decides to let Miles finish his too. Zach’s boyfriend is young and can still very much hold his liquor.
They’d ordered two desserts, and they finish off the gelato but have to ask for the torta della nonna to be boxed up. Before he knows it, Chris is insisting on picking up the tab. They tend to go by the guideline of whoever paid for the flight doesn’t pay for food whenever they visit each other. Miles is yawning by the time they reach the valet, the cooler night air giving both him and Chris a shiver. Zach’s still toasty in his sweater, something that Miles capitalizes on by tucking his arm around him and leaning on his shoulder. Chris can sympathize.
Zach tucks his head against Miles’s face and asks him gently, “You tired?”
Miles nods and pulls back a little to turn to Chris. “I don’t mean to be lame but I’ve been up since four a.m.” Chris is already nodding and stepping a little closer for impending goodbyes, but Miles surprises him by going on, “—but don’t let me stop you. I know you two have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I’m still down to hang out.” Zach says softly, to Chris’s surprise.
“Yeah?” Chris fiddles with his keys to cover his relief. “I can give you a ride to your hotel if you need to later.”
“Or he can take a cab.” Miles gives a pointed look to Zach. “I’ll take the car back to the hotel and you boys can have the rest of the evening. I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.” Miles touches the back of his hand to Zach’s face, and Zach looks back at him warmly.
Chris shakes his head and says charmingly, “As if you need it.” He gives Miles a good, long hug.
Miles pecks Zach on the mouth and wraps a scarf around himself as the valet pulls both their cars up. Zach gives an exasperated sigh when he sees Chris’s Audi.
“What? It’s been warm lately, you know I love the convertible.” Zach just rolls his eyes and takes his sweet ass time getting into the passenger seat, but Chris knows the secret. Everyone loves convertibles, some people just pretend to be pretentious assholes. Chris knows how to have fun.
He jogs around the side of his car and says a silent thank you to his past self for cleaning out the coffee cups from the front seat that had collected over the last week. “Well?” he asks Zach. “What are you up for?” He rubs his suddenly clammy hands on his jeans.
Zach sinks into the seat, buckling up while he makes a show of considering their options. “I was thinking… we could go back to your place, so we can see how much I can blow your mind with my sweet banjo skills.”
Chris laughs, even while he rolls his eyes. “Bring it, Quinto.”
//
Zach puts on his favorite local station as they drive, the one that plays good night music. It’s cooling off, so Chris keeps the roof up but cracks the windows enough to feel the early summer evening. Chris feels lucky to have this unexpected time with his friend. He hums with the music while Zach tells him a funny story about their dogs, until a moment later when he falls quiet. Chris reaches for his arm without looking away from the road, fingers curling around his wrist. “I’m so sorry about Noah.”
Later, he’ll think, ‘when did the evening change course?’ Is it here, when Zach very simply runs his fingers over Chris’s, after they’re stopped at a light? His thumb runs up over the skin on the back of Chris’s hand, his grip tightening. The air floating in through the windows is warmer without the wind to cool it, the music fading too without the car in motion.
“Noah was a good boy.” Zach looks a little surprised at himself for saying something so cliché, voice not-quite cracking. He looks a little lost for a moment.
Chris’s vision gets that strange quality that a sheen of tears can bring, everything in his field of vision now just the slightest bit more in focus. He swallows as he looks down at their hands, lacing their fingers together. He smiles just a little, before he brings Zach’s hand up to his mouth quickly to press a kiss to his knuckles. Zach half-turns towards him, brushes his thumb against the scruff of Chris’s beard growing in. They just look at each other for as much time as they have before the light changes. Chris steps on the gas to take them home. He takes a deep breath, and the night air warms him from the inside out.
//
Chris loves the feeling he gets whenever he pulls into his driveway. Every time he takes a moment to look at his house, he falls even more in love. At this time of night, there are enough lights strategically placed to show off the stonework and hints of surrounding greenery. Ever a California boy, he can never get over the lushness of having so many green things growing up all around him.
Chris unlocks the door with a code and greets Wednesday, who’s wagging her tail with a frenzy. Zach greets her with his palm out, kneeling down and talking to her in the usual sing-song pitch that is his dog-voice. He’s heard a lot about her but hasn’t actually met her in person before. Clearly they’re going to be fast friends.
Once the proper introductions are complete, Zach knows how to make himself at home. He shucks off his shoes by the door and toes into the living room in wool socks to where Chris keeps his guitar and other music paraphernalia. A couple years ago, after Zach had already moved to New York, he’d left his second banjo at Chris’s place for nights like this. Chris hadn’t taken banjo out of its case for him, but he tuned it a week or so ago just to make sure it was still in working order. That’s about all he knows what to do with banjos, but he’s satisfied when Zach gives a little strum and only has to make minor adjustments to the tuning. He pulls his finger picks out of his pocket, and the forethought he’d had to pack them in the first place gives Chris a warm feeling in his belly.
Chris busies himself with pouring them each a whiskey now that he figures neither of them is driving any more for the night. And you can’t have a guitar and banjo jam session without a little whiskey. He puts the torta saved from dinner into the fridge to keep chilled. Zach’s already fiddling around and picking out something that sounds like a pop song hook by the time Chris joins him. He hands Zach his drink and they cheers, glasses tinking. Chris sits down on the rug across the coffee table from Zach, and pulls his guitar into his lap.
Chris isn’t actually good enough to just pick up his guitar and play just anything unless he’s already practiced, picked out the chords, tried to fit his voice in at the right time and place, not too loud. He still sometimes gets thrown off course in the middle, trying to sing and play at the same time. He can carry a tune and keep a decent beat, but he could never have been a drummer. Maybe if he’d had more practice and discipline he could have been a professional musician, but that’s just another line of maybe, maybe, maybes.
He’s always loved watching Zach’s hands on the banjo though—his fingers moving like water over rocks, just flowing with it, too fast for the brain to be thinking out each individual pluck. Zach looks so cozy on his couch, sweater still hugging his arms and humming softly to himself. Chris thinks back over the last month or so of practicing the song he’d picked, impatient for this moment. This feels so familiar, just like all the times they’ve challenged each other to learn and play a song together. It’s fun to hold each other accountable, and keeps them up with a hobby that could easily fall by the wayside.
They spend a few minutes fucking around and trying to make each other laugh with progressively sillier bits of picking and singing. Wednesday seems enchanted by the sounds coming out of the instruments. She lays her head down on Chris’s lap and just gazes up at him and pants while he laughs and coos at her. He eventually clears his throat and gives Zach a challenging look. “Okay. Ready to do this?”
“Yes.” Zach bites down on his smile and repositions himself on the couch. Chris takes one more swig of whiskey. “All right then.” Empty glass back down on the table, he licks his lips and begins:
I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me
But I don't, I don't know what that will be
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see
Zach lets Chris start, and joins in with the harmony on the chorus. At the sound of his voice joining in, Chris’s heart starts to pound. They fit together even in this. Chris smiles up at Zach, making eye contact at the break between verses. He nods at the cue and Zach’s voice drops in, meeting Chris’s lead and walking through the next part right with him.
What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you
Or bow down and be grateful and say "Sure, take all that you see"
To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me
And I don't, I don't know who to believe
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see
They’re really going now, tempo and volume picking up. They share a grin over the strumming, and Chris can feel that Zach gets why he chose this song. It speaks to him on so many levels, but he can’t think about it too hard because they’re only halfway through. Zach’s voice joins him once again.
If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see
Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak
Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself
What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?
And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf
I'll come back to you someday soon myself
They’re both watching each other, intent upon hands and lips keeping time. At the last line Chris catches Zach’s gaze and nods the beat as they shift into the last, slower section. He has to look back down again after they establish the new tempo, because of the dawning expression he sees on Zach’s face.
If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm raw
If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm sore
And you would wait tables and soon run the store
Gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn
If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm sore
If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm sore
Zach takes the ah descant, fading in and around the melody, like he had practiced knowing that Chris needed to sing this part himself. He only joins him for the chorus, softy, one more time before letting Chris close with the last line.
Someday I'll be like the man on the screen
The last note hangs in the air, and the sound of Chris’s breath fills his ears. He can feel his heart beating in the tender tips of his fingers. The quiet in the room practically hums after all that joyful noise. Chris’s mind has gone so empty that he almost doesn’t hear the sniff come from the couch. He looks up just in time to see Zach wiping his eye with his sleeve, and his pulse trips again. “Zach?”
He quickly lays his guitar down and joins Zach on the couch, folding his knees in against his friend and sliding his arm around him. Zach clutches at him, burying his nose into Chris’s neck. He gives a self deprecating little laugh, whispering, “Sorry.” Chris reaches his other hand up to hold Zach’s face, and just lets Zach breathe for a while. He doesn’t even notice until he lifts his head from Zach’s shoulder that he’s left his own damp spot on the knit fabric. Zach pulls back an inch more, apologizing again.
“Are you kidding? I’m crying too, I’m such a wuss.” Zach laughs harder at that, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his face with his hands. Chris holds his wrists, tugging them gently down. Zach wipes his eyes again, but still hasn’t looked back up at him.
“The thing I love about you Chris,” he starts, takes a breath. “—is that we’re still somehow on the same page. From when we were just young and stupid and just trying to figure everything out... I mean I still feel like that’s who we are. We’ve gotten more work, more successful, we’re getting what we wanted. Things are getting better all the time for the both of us.”
He turns his hands over in Chris’s grip to take hold of him, squeezing back. “But I still feel like that kid who’s just trying to figure shit out. I—,” he breaks off again, breathes. He finally meets Chris’s eyes, and Chris can’t help but think of how beautiful he looks in this moment, eyes soft behind his glasses and the shining tear tracks on his sweet face. “I’m so glad to still have you in my life. It’s so much better, knowing that you’re there with me.”
Chris brings his hands back up to Zach’s face, holding him for a moment, a thumb tracing his faintly stubbling jaw. He guides Zach closer to him so he can press his lips to Zach’s temple. “I’ll always be here, Zach.” They hold each other close again for a long moment. Chris presses more kisses to Zach’s hair, his cheek. One last squeeze and then he unfolds himself from the couch. He gathers their empty glasses, takes them to the kitchen to put in the sink, Wednesday following him dotingly. He grabs two water glasses, fills one and knocks it back before refilling it and the other for Zach.
He’s okay now actually, if Zach needs to go back to his hotel tonight. His heart is so full from playing that music with him, from just talking to him. This is what he loves about them, that they can have moments like this. Chris’s greatest loves in his life are his friends who make him feel this way. His time with Zach fills him with a kind of contentment that people always talk about getting from their partners and no one else. Chris thinks that people make the line between friends and lovers out to be more than it is.
Chris is about to take the glasses back into the living room when he feels someone step up behind him, arms sliding around his waist. He leaves the glasses on the counter and turns in Zach’s arms, surprised at the gesture. Suddenly Zach is kissing him, and he’s apparently got to rethink his whole ‘Zach’s not spending the night after all’ conclusion.
If Chris had been wishing for a do-over of that clumsy kiss in his kitchen last summer, then he’s getting what he wanted right here and now. Zach kisses him with intent, slotting their hips together and gripping his waist and the back of his neck. When Chris tears away to catch his breath, Zach slides down to mouth at his neck and below his ear, where the skin is so sensitive Zach’s touch makes him shiver.
This is when Chris’s brain fully catches up, and he finally realizes, ‘Oh, this is actually happening.’
Zach’s kissed his way back to Chris’s mouth by now, and they spend several more minutes reacquainting themselves with each other. Chris drags his fingers through Zach’s buzzed hair, feels the muscles on his back. Zach pushes Chris’s shirt up to feel the skin on his belly, his sides. Things slowly get more and more heated, with Chris’s ass pressed hard against the sink. Chris has got a hold on Zach’s hips, and he finally gets a hand squeezed into the back of Zach’s jeans to grip his ass. He pulls his head away again only to ask breathlessly, “Do you want to stay the night?”
“Yes.” Zach nods and kisses his jaw.
“Oh.” Chris can’t help the stupid grin. “Good.”
//