Chris request omgggg! Chris and reader after a brutal mission and he ends up having an epiphany about realizing he loves her?
a/n; this is kinda ass, a little rushed on the build up, but I just ache for soft chris :( also I don't really picture a specific chris Era for this, but the only implication of his age/experience is that he's captain for his team/mission, so there's that. But this was very fun to write!! I love Chris so bad he's such a lovebird 🥹💙
content; talk of injury, light blood, aftermath of violence, fluff, confessions, some build up for the actual confession,
wc; 5k
Another intense mission. 76 hours of stealth, fighting, research, and risking your life because you had the misfortune of being good at your job. The only good thing? Chris by your side. Barely. Well, try the other way around. You were barely by his side. You were barely conscious, beyond spent from the loss of blood, the physical exhaustion, the fact that you likely had a concussion—again.
On the helicopter ride back to the BSAA HQ, Chris had to keep you and himself awake. He kept you tucked into his side, your head curled against his shoulder. "We're going back to HQ and we'll get you patched and fixed up soon, okay? Come on. Just stay awake. Please?" He tried to push, shifting so he could push you to sit upright so he could look at your side, where he was monitoring the poorly cleaned and wrapped wound in your left side, just below your ribs. Once confirming the bleeding hadn't gotten worse and ensuring its semi-cleanliness, he moved on to check your other wounds. Your eyelids fluttered slightly, and his heart jolted in the worst way he ever could've felt.
He came to a scary thought when he saw how hard you were fighting to stay awake. You could be on the brink of death for all he knew. His heart raced, looking toward the pilot. The pilot held up a number with his hand, and Chris' brows furrowed. "Find the nearest hospital. HQ can wait. Something is wrong." Chris demanded. Being captain had its perks—the pilot listened for that reason alone.
Within half an hour, the helicopter was landing on a helipad at the roof of a hospital. Chris was quick to hoist you into his grasp. You'd lost consciousness by now, which pushed him further to make his way into the building. He didn't even try to greet the two doctors and the nurse who came to guide him from the roof. He ran. He stumbled down steps, cursing every higher being as he was told the elevator was out. Once he got you down to the floor instructed by the doctor, he was told he needed to part. Reluctantly, he handed you over to a nurse, watching as she'd laid you in a bed and her, along with a doctor, began properly analyzing you and taking in your injuries, figuring out if surgery or any special procedures were necessary.
Chris was escorted to a lobby area, but he had to wait outside. Because of his panicked, restless state, a nurse stayed with him to ensure he didn't send himself into his own medical emergency. Upon seeing some of his own scratches and bruises beneath a cut in his shirt and his rolled sleeves, the nurse suggested—cautiously, as if talking to a stray dog—that Chris be checked out as well.
"Sir, I think you could benefit from a quick look over as well. Those scratches look deep.. and the cut—"
"Tell me they're giving her more than just a 'look over'." He snapped slightly, watching the younger nurse jolt at the aggression.
"Yes, yes, of course they are. S-she has more immediate needs. I assure you she's being taken care of." The man said carefully, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat.
"I'm.. I'm sorry." Chris exhaled heavily, leaning against a wall at the outside of the building.
"Come inside. We can get you cleaned up and maybe even get you some water. And possibly an IV. You... don't look too hydrated." The nurse softened, still nervous, but clearly understanding.
Chris, although reluctant, nodded and followed the young man back into the building. He was glad he left all his gear—and yours—in the helicopter to make the run easier. He was easily cleaned up, given stitches for the gash in his back along with the cut on his bicep. He was given a new shirt and some painkillers. It was at least an hour of his off and on care—doctors coming in for both physical and mental checks, clearly a little worried with how he'd originally come in. By the end of his care, he was released and let back into the lobby, and he spent another hour thinking, waiting, basically praying.
Only as he was giving in to exhaustion was he interrupted. He was nearly asleep in the lobby, uncomfortably hunched over in the small chair, when the same female nurse from before came to greet him with a hopeful look on her face. He jolted awake slightly, blinking and pushing himself upright.
"Is she okay? Is she awake? Can I see her?" He rushed her with questions, and she held up two hands to ease him.
"She's resting, she's okay, and you can see her. She needed quite a bit of cleaning, stitches, and relocation of her shoulder. She does also have a mildly sprained ankle, so if she wakes up and tries to leave without support for the ankle, don't let her." The nurse explained as she led Chris toward your hospital room. "If you have questions, the doctor will be in the check her vitals shortly."
"No concussion? No internal troubles? No surgery?" Chris asked, hesitating outside of your hospital room.
"No. None of that. She'll be okay." She reassured once more before opening the door and gesturing him in, leaving him alone with you.
He was quieter than ever as he brought a chair up to your bed. Even quieter than he was on stealth missions, if that was possible. He held his breath until he was sitting at your bedside, a shaky hand resting over yours. Cliché, he knew. But he couldn't help it as he felt tears well in his eyes.
"Fuck." He exhaled shakily. "Fuck. I'm so sorry." He choked quietly, his hand engulfing yours as he brought it to his lips and felt over your wrist gently, searching for your steady pulse. He didn't trust the machines beeping. He had to feel it himself.
Silence fell except for his shaky crying. It was uneven as he muttered incoherent pleas for you to forgive him for not being there to take the hit, for not getting you out sooner, for not knowing better. That went on for twenty minutes before he scooted closer and let himself fall asleep finally, exhaustion overtaking him now that he could feel you were alive and okay, his head gently pressed against your hip as his fingers remained settled on your pulse point.
Chris was pulled from his slumber about two hours later when a doctor came in to check on you. His head flew upright, eyes wide and immediately on the door as it clicked open. Seeing the doctor, he eased, turning forward to you, and freezing momentarily when he saw you were awake, just watching and waiting.
He didn't say anything as the doctor came over to you, asking a few questions, taking some note of your vitals before he began disconnecting you from the machines and the IV in a careful process. The doctor explained that you could leave soon, discharge papers were ready to be signed, but he had to get you a small kit of things to properly clean and take care of the stitches you had to take care of and monitor. You thanked him, nodding and watching as he left you two alone.
You looked back down at Chris, hand lifting from his. "You don't trust the machines, do you?" You asked quietly, referring to how his thumb hadn't left your pulse point.
"No." He exhaled, his hands coming to wipe at his face and stretch, yawning. "Thought I was gonna lose you."
"Oh, captain," you smiled tiredly. "You can't get rid of me that easily. A little blood loss never hurt anyone." You jokingly waved a hand dismissively, only for your face to drop when he didn't show appreciation for the joke like he usually would.
"It almost hurt you." He said, his tone a little too firm. "How are you feeling? We can wait to leave. They'll probably take another 45 minutes to get your discharge papers anyway." He tried to joke about how busy the hospitals always were, but it came out flat.
"We can go once they give us the stuff. I'll be fine." You sighed, slowly, very carefully easing yourself to sit upright. Chris pushed forward to support your back, palm pressing gently so that you didn't have to strain so much. "I can sit up on my own." You insisted, slowly moving to swing your legs over the side of the bed.
"Uh—fuck—" He panicked for a moment, standing in front of you with his hands out. "Your ankle is sprained. The nurse told me not to let you walk around yet."
"Well, can you get me a crutch or something? I need to pee." You frowned. "Or—no, just help me." You said, taking his hands.
"Which ankle is it?"
"Let's find out together." You joked. In your defense, you hadn't even noticed any ankle pain, given your other injuries. So you actually didn't know which ankle was sprained. You stood, holding onto Chris as you found your footing. You applied pressure, rolling your left ankle carefully. You tried to do the same to your right ankle, only to hiss and freeze up, slouching at the pain.
"Right ankle?" He asked. You nodded with a stifled whimper. He shifted to your right side, one hand supporting your waist and the other holding your hand. "Lean into me. I got you." He soothed quietly. A softness in his voice that you thought you hallucinated.
"I'd hope so." You listened, letting him take the weight of your right side as you made your way to the bathroom attached to the hospital room.
It took a minute, a few stops, but you made it eventually. He got you close enough, and you used the sink for support once Chris stepped out and closed the door, waiting for you. The doctor came back while you were in there, so Chris stepped forward and accepted the papers and the bag of supplies for you.
"She'll wanna change the bandages for her stitches every 24 hours at a minimum unless they get wet or too dirty. If bleeding comes back on its own, monitor and come back if needed. Other bandages can be changed the same, and they can all be cleaned every 24 hours or so, or twice, if she feels it's necessary." The doctor explained smoothly, handing over the papers and a bag of stuff. "And this is for her." He handed over a crutch that was tucked under his arm. "I see you helped her to the restroom, but she needs this for independent use. Ensure she puts weight into the crutch, not her leg. We don't think she'll need a brace, but if pain persists or worsens, bring her back, and we'll get another scan of the ankle."
"Okay. Thank you. We should be out shortly. Is there any chance you'd have a change of clothes for her? The gown is... less than ideal for her. And her old clothes were quite dirty." Chris spoke low, lazily searching the bag and reading over the papers.
"Yes. We can bring her a new outfit. The nurse will come with it shortly." The doctor nodded and smiled. "Anything else?"
"No, thank you."
The doctor left, door clicking in the silence. He turned as he heard the bathroom door click open, rushing back to the door. "Relax." You held a hand up, almost immediately reaching for the crutch as you leaned on the doorway.
"Easy for you to say." He scoffed.
"You might be my captain, but I'll still kick you for giving me attitude." You glared. He handed over the crutch, helping you adjust it until it fit nicely under your arm, his hands hovering around you as you hobbled over to the bed and sat back down with a heavy sigh, holding your side as you leaned back and closed your eyes.
"Does it hurt?" He asked, standing over you as he reached to place his hand over yours.
"No, I'm just making sure I don't move too fast." You mumbled.
"Right. Good idea." He exhaled. He sat back down. "They'll bring you a change of clothes. There's already transport waiting for us to take us back to HQ, you just gotta sign the papers." He said, realizing he still had the papers tucked under his arm. He reached and handed them to you, along with a pen he'd found by the bedside table.
It was quiet as you read through the papers and signed, the hospital lights and electricity buzzing incessantly as you tried to focus on the sound of Chris' breathing, hoping not to overwhelm yourself with the noise of the hospital. Chris exhaled heavily, head falling to his head as he rubbed his eyes and closed them, head still in his hands.
You leaned back, quiet, too tired to do much more in the moment. "I'm alive, Chris. Stop stressing yourself out." You blurted out, making him lift his head. You looked at him. "You do this every time I get hurt. Every time someone gets hurt on a mission. You think of what could've happened. What has happened. But you don't think of what is happening. Can't you do that for just this once?"
"No. No. It's different. I came too close to losing you. You could've—" He stopped, exhaling sharply.
"I could've died. You could've died. Our pilot could've died. Everyone dies, Chris. It wouldn't have been your fault." You said firmly, sitting upright once again—slowly.
"Everyone dies, but you can't. I can't lose you." Chris' brows furrowed, lump forming in his throat as his chest swelled with unspoken frustration, too much held back.
"You'd be fine." You scoffed, looking off to the side.
"No. No, I wouldn't be." He spat, rising to his feet. "You think it's simple. You think losing someone is simple. Death is death. It's inevitable."
"It is! It's inevitable. It's hard, I know, but you have to—"
"Don't tell me to come to terms with it. Death means the end. And if the end came too early, I don't think I'd ever move on from you."
His words made you pause, mouth opening, then closing as you looked back up at him, blinking cluelessly. "Move on?" You mumbled.
"It's wrong. It's against the rules. You're my partner, technically subordinate. It's wrong, but realizing how close I came to having you gone forever, I can't deny that I care in a way that could get us both in trouble." Chris confessed, almost sounding out of breath with how he wasn't taking any pauses to breathe or let you think.
"Chris—"
A knock startled you, followed by the door creaking open. You turned. A nurse came with a smile. "Hello. Just came to give you these. You got those papers signed for us?"
You stared at the clothes in her hand, only to clear your throat and nod as you handed her the papers, accepting the clothes.
"Lovely! Well, I'll let you two be on your way. Have a lovely day." She smiled, exiting the room swiftly.
"I'll.. wait outside for you." Chris sighed, leaving no room for interruption as he walked out, the door closing loudly behind him.
You sighed through your nose, eyes closing for a moment. It took a while, but once you were dressed, you gathered your belongings and piled everything into the extra bag they gave you, shuffling and hobbling carefully with the crutch as you found Chris waiting down the hall. You two left in silence, Chris leading the way as he kept slow pace for you as you adjusted to using the crutch. You knew it was gonna be a long, awkward trip back.
And you were right. The entire ride back was excruciatingly silent. Neither of you acknowledged what Chris had said, ignoring the fact that he basically admitted that he was in love with you. Arriving back to HQ was even worse. Usually, Chris would hover around you for a while, insisting that you relax before you dive back into the paperwork, but he didn't this time. He dove right into it himself. Of course, you had no say once your superior saw your condition—you were put on desk duty for a month. On top of you already having to fill out and file your own reports. That news put you down faster than you'd ever imagined. Sure, you were hurt, but you've been hurt before! They argued that it was worse this time, and you could get worse if you tried a mission.
"If you want to be part of a mission so badly, we can have you guide Redfield for his next one." You groaned inwardly at the compromise but couldn't argue. You shook your head, declining the chance politely as you hobbled out of your superior's office and down to your little work area that you'd be stuck at for a whole damn month.
What came next was a long, exhausting week of silence. The office was quiet. You didn't spend a lot of time there besides filing reports, training, and waiting for assignments, but now you spend full shifts every day Monday-Friday, sitting at a desk, staring at a screen with nowhere near enough mental stimulation. Your only sanity saver? Your breaks. You had mandatory breaks to move around and ensure your ankle wasn't getting worse, and ensure you could properly move and walk and function without hurting your stitches. So, you'd hobble around the building, often landing in the break room to hide from the torture of the screens.
A week into your punishment—that's what it felt like, at least—you were in the break room, slumped back in a chair as you snacked on a protein bar you'd found in your pantry earlier that morning. It was still early, so employees and agents were coming back and forth for coffee and food and quiet. What made you look up was the familiar footsteps of Chris, who you hadn't seen in days. Your head lifted, and you visibly tensed. Instead of trying to talk like you should, you pushed yourself upright, limping and stumbling as you grabbed your crutch, only to hastily leave the break room. Before you could get through the door, struggling with pushing it open properly, Chris pushed it open for you, holding it so you could limp your way out.
"You struggle opening doors all the time?" He asked.
"No. It's harder when I can't put pressure on my other foot to push against the heavy doors in this stupid fucking building." You grumbled, stumbling your way down the hall.
"Well, it should be healing soon. It wasn't a severe tear, so keep taking care of it and in a couple of weeks, and you should be fine." Chris said as he followed you. You glanced back at him.
"Why are you following me?" You blurted out, brows furrowed as you paused and turned around.
"We're going the same way."
"Okay, why are you talking to me? You've avoided me for a week." You scoffed.
"I've been busy." He countered firmly.
"Bullshit." You spat. "I saw Jill the other day. She came to bring me a snack and a tiny flower arrangement. Jill hardly ever stops by to talk, let alone bring gifts."
"Well, forgive me for having things to do."
"It's not my fault you're ignoring me because you conf—"
"Shut up!" He whisper-yelled, shushing you as a few coworkers passed by.
"Wha—ugh! You're infuriating!" You shoved past him and made your way down the hall back to your work area, sitting back down. Chris groaned inwardly at himself, hands wiping down his face before he followed you back down.
He pressed a hand to your desktop, leaning over to look at you. "Okay, listen, I know it's been a long week—"
"Yes. It has. So you should go finish the week by yourself like you've chosen to spend the rest of it." You didn't even bother looking at him, brows furrowing.
"I'm trying to find a day for us to talk. Clearly, you're upset, and I need to explain myself." No response. Quiet. He exhaled, eyes closing. "Please. Just let me come over and explain."
"You've got a lot to explain." You finally looked up at him.
"I'll bring food." He offered, softer, quieter. "Aaand maybe some drinks?"
"No drinks. You get clingy when you drink." You grumbled. "Fine. Tomorrow night. Bring me good food and have a damn good explanation for why you've been ignoring me and making me feel like a curse because you've got a thing for me."
"Okay. Harsh." He frowned. "But.. yes. I'll be there. Say... five o'clock?"
"Six." You said.
"Okay." He nodded, pulling back. "I'm.. I'm sorry."
"Save it, Chris." You huffed, waving him off. He padded away, and your eyes closed, head falling with a groan.
The rest of the work day was as calm as it'd get. You finished work and made your way home. The wait for the next day to come was exhausting. The day went normal—clean the area of your stitches, ease your ankle into some more movement and exercises, along with stretching the rest of your body. You kept yourself busy with minor cleaning, some TV, a book you've been reading, and eating throughout the day.
The time came. You laid lazily on your couch, face down, thinking in the silence of your apartment. You wondered if Chris meant it. If he truly did have feelings for you. And worse, you knew you liked him. You knew you loved him. You'd had similar moments that he had—realization that he was more than a captain. More than your partner. More than a friend. He filled a void, and he didn't even know it. The routine of seeing him, working with him, it fulfilled you in a way you'd never felt.
You groaned into the couch cushion, only to roll over carefully as you heard a measured knock at your door. "Chris?" You called out loudly.
"Yeah, it's me!" He responded, shifting on his heels.
"Come in. Doors unlocked." You called out. "Lock it on the way in!"
He stepped in carefully, closing and locking the door. In his hands was a bag of food—a bag from the burger place you two liked. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching him set the food on the coffee table.
"You still feeling okay?" He asked, separating the food and the bottled drinks he grabbed from a small, cheap corner store near your apartment.
"Yeah. Just... annoyed." You moved to sit up against the back of the couch, but Chris stopped you.
"You can stay laid back. I'll prop you up with some pillows."
"Chris, I can still move and sit upright. It just takes a minute."
"You slouch. It won't be good for your stitches if you end up cramping while eating. You twitch too much when you cramp."
"Fine." You kept yourself elevated slightly, allowing him to slip a few pillows beneath your back so you could eat properly and avoid slouching. Chris handed you your food and went to sit down. He didn't ask you to move your legs. He lifted your feet, sat down, and placed your legs over his lap.
"I know you're mad." He spoke up.
"Do you know why?" You asked, shoving a fry into your mouth as you stared at him.
"Don't question me like I'm a toddler who broke you TV." Chris grumbled quietly. "But yes. I do know why."
"Good." You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. "You've got 60 seconds. Starting now. 60, 59—"
"You're tiring." He sighed heavily, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Listen." He turned to you, hands gently holding your calves and letting his thumbs shift absent-mindedly.
"49, 48—"
"Stop counting!" He reached out and grabbed a handful of fries, shoving them into your mouth. You snickered, overly satisfied with his annoyance.
"43—"
"Okay! Alright. I know what I said. I know what I did. I basically confessed that I'm in love with you hours after I thought you were gonna die from blood loss or a concussion or something we couldn't see, and then I ignored you for a week. I get why you're mad."
"35, 34, 33—"
"But I meant it. I've had the honor and curse that is falling in love with you. It's an honor because you're.. you're you. You've done things to me that I never thought possible. It's a curse because of what we do for work. At any given time, one of us could be on a mission, and death could come knocking, and if one of us is dead, I don't think I'd be able to ever forgive myself—for leaving you or for letting you die." He paused, exhaling slower this time. He stared at you for a moment. "And it's another kind of issue when I know it's strictly forbidden for us to be together. Workplace romance is firmly frowned upon."
"17, 16," you weren't looking at him now. You were staring down at your lap, unable to look at him without getting emotional.
"I'm in love with you. It took me far too long to admit it, but watching you almost not make it, watching the color drain from you, the energy fading from your being, your—your breath.." he paused, regaining his composure as he tried not to let himself fall into the memory of how he saw you in the helicopter. "I knew then that I couldn't go on alone. I can't live without you. It wasn't just losing a partner, a coworker. It would've been losing a piece of me and being left with a void that not even my wildest dreams could fill."
"Zero." You mumbled.
"Good enough?" He murmured, almost begging quietly.
"Good enough to be considered." You exhaled, staring down at your food in your lap. Your gaze flitted up slightly, stopping where his hands were rubbing subconscious circles against your ankles, the hand on your right ankle not fully grasping or pressing down, just hovering. Your eyes felt bleary. Your breath hitched in a small effort to hold back tears. Chris tensed.
"Wha—woah, woah, hey," he shifted closer, reaching out to lift your chin. You kept your head down, so he retracted his hand as he heard you sniffle. "I'm sorry. You don't have to respond now. You don't have to ever if you don't want to. I just... I said it in a burst of emotion the other day, and I feel like a piece of shit for ignoring you over my stupid words."
"You really care that much?" You sniffled again, looking up finally, eyes brimming with bright, shimmery tears in the light of the living room lamps. "You care so much you couldn't live without me?"
"This week alone was torture I put myself through." He whispered. "You're lucky. Claire had to deal with me and my complaining." He admitted with a low, humorless chuckle.
"And you love me. Not just because we're always mission partners. Not because we work closely. You love... me." Your voice shook faintly.
"All of you. Inside and out, good and bad."
You tried not to blink, but tears came rushing down your cheeks, a small cry leaving your lips. Chris panicked again. A small curse left his lips. He hesitated, but scooted closer and ever so gently pulled you in closer, supporting your back so you didn't strain to sit against him.
"I know it's a lot. And it's sudden. But I promise you, all of it is true. Every last word." He reassured again, cupping your cheek and letting your head fall against his shoulder.
"I don't think I've ever had someone speak so... gently about me." You mumbled, sniffling a little bit.
"That doesn't sound right." He chuckled. "You're one of the best people to speak gently about." Another cry fell, and he just exhaled, closing his eyes as he kept you close, tucked into his side.
"Promise you won't ignore me like that again? Ever? Even in death?" You lifted your head, and he shifted, hands cupping your face. His thumbs wiped gently at your tears.
"Promise. Even in death." He nodded.
"Then I guess I can admit that I've also been in love with you." Your gaze fell, lips pursing slightly.
"What?" He stared at you, lifting your head so you'd look at him.
"Your hearing is fine, you heard me." You muttered.
"Oh, come on! I give you a whole speech about how I'm in love with you, you cry, and now you won't even repeat yourself?" He scoffed, feigning annoyance.
"I'm in love with you, too, stupid." You repeated, leaning back in to lay your head in the crook of his neck with a heavy exhale. You finished wiping your cheeks completely dry.
"So. Does that... does that mean this is a secret thing? At least secret to our job."
"This being...?"
"Us."
"Who said anything about us being a thing?"
"Ugh, you really are infuriating." He rolled his eyes playfully. "Do you want me to ask you properly?"
You nodded simply, shifting to sit upright and look at him. "Go on. Ask like a man."
"Will you let me be your boyfriend?"
"You sound like a teenager." You snickered, sniffling a bit.
"Come on, I've been really vulnerable tonight!" He laughed, leaning back to get a better look at you.
You leaned back in, following his shifting and pressing your lips to his stubbled cheek. "Yes, you can be my boyfriend." You muttered, head dropping to his shoulder.
"Good. I was afraid you'd say no because I was a dick." He sighed, audibly relieved with the outcome of the conversation.
Hey everyone, sad news. My original account got blocked out of nowhere (likely due to a VPN glitch), and it hasn't been restored yet. I'm honestly so heartbroken, but I decided to create this new account for now. Sharing my most popular artwork here to rebuild my page. Thank you so much for your support!
Hey, I've noticed a severe lack of Chris content so I decided to take matters into my own hands
Now Presenting...
Summary: Your shitty boyfriend has canceled plans, yet again. This time on Valentines Day of all days. Heartbroken, you decided to call you childhood best friend who offers to take you out to the Valentines Day carnival instead, thus kicking off your friends to lovers arch. 10.7k words
Content Warning: This story contains slightly possessive themes, marking, and smut. Viewer discretion is advised. Reader has fem anatomy, generally gender neutral minus one reference to makeup
“What do you mean he canceled?” Chris’s voice cracked through the speaker on your phone, “It’s Valentine's Day, what could possibly be his excuse this time?”
You sighed as you flopped onto your bed, “He said he’s putting in overtime at work.”
“And his dick in his secretary.”
“Chris!” you chastised. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to be reminded of it.
“Sorry,.” he said in that way that made it incredibly clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “What I meant to say was: that’s a really shitty excuse.”
You chuckled a bit, “Wanna know what makes it worse?” you asked.
You heard Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”
“He’s salary.”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You knew your boyfriend's excuse of ‘I’m going to be at work late to meet this deadline (that’s two months away)’ was bullshit. But hearing just how pissed off Chris got about it put it into perspective just how bullshit it was. It felt vindicating.
“I’m going to kill him, you know.” Chris said.
You shook your head, as if he could see. “No you’re not.”
Chris was silent for a second. “I’m going to punch him?”
You rolled the thought around in your head. “Hmmm...Yeah, I’d allow that.”
“I’m going to punch him,” he said with a conviction that told you he really meant it. You smiled softly to yourself. You’d known Chris for forever, having met while you were in the foster care system together. He’d always been protective over you, and it was nice to know some things never changed.
Chris let out an agitated huff on the other end of the line. “So what’s the plan?” He asked.
You scoffed. “What’s the plan? The plan is getting back into my pajamas and watching shitty reality tv to make myself feel better.”
You didn’t have to see it to feel the indignation on his face. “You’re kidding? But you already got dressed and everything.”
“Thank you, Chris,” you groaned, “I was actually really hoping you’d rub salt in the wound. That’s why I called you, specifically.”
“I’ll take you out.”
“What?” You sat up in bed.
“I’ll take you out!” He said again, this time more sure of himself. “It’s not like I’m doing anything tonight, and unlike your ‘boyfriend,’ I’d be honored to take you out.” He spat out the word “boyfriend” as if it tasted like rot in his mouth, especially to give the label to your current partner.
You felt yourself fluster. “Chris-”
“It’s not a date.” He was quick to clarify. “It’s just…two friends hanging out on Valentine's Day, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”
You bit your lip as you thought about it. If your boyfriend found out, he would be pissed. He’d never liked Chris, always convinced that he ‘just wants to fuck you.’ This would only add fuel to his fire.
“Yeah, okay,” you finally said. There was no use in wasting a perfectly good outfit just sitting at home. And you had just spent an hour and a half on your makeup, so fuck it. Might as well hit the town with your best friend.
You could hear the smile in Chris’s voice. “Sweet! I’ll pick you up in an hour?”
You smiled, getting up to look yourself over in the mirror and make sure you still looked presentable. “Sounds good,” You agreed, “I’ll see you then.”
💘💘💘
You were checking over your outfit one last time when the doorbell rang. Chris had told you to dress warm, so you did just that. And honestly, you felt pretty cute! “Coming!” You called as you rushed to the door.
Chris was smiling on the other side, arm tucked behind him. “Hey,” he said, as he presented you with the bouquet he was hiding behind his back. “You look beautiful tonight.”
You were shocked as you took the flowers from him. “Awe, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, looking over the array. You smiled as you noticed the most prominent flower. Chris would have your favorite flower memorized.
He laughed, following you inside as you went to grab a vase. “Of course, I had to do it. Everyone deserves flowers on Valentine's Day.”
You returned with the bouquet, placing it in the middle of the coffee table. “How do you know if I got flowers today or not?” you sassed, “I do have a partner you know.”
Chris gave you a look. He said your name, unamused. “Come on.”
You sighed, “yeah, well, you’re right. All he got me today was frustration.” You shook your head, trying to shake the disappointment out.
Chris noticed. He gave you a smile, and held out his elbow for you to take, determined not to let you dwell. “Shall we?” he asked.
You took it with a soft giggle. “We shall.” You nodded as he led the way out the door and to his car. An old clunker of a car, held together with duct tape and pure hubris on Chris’s part. It wasn’t even like he couldn’t afford a new one, or at least to replace it. He just insisted that this one ran fine, which was technically true, so why go into debt?
Luckily, he kept it a lot cleaner these days than he did in highschool. You realized the interior was actually really well kept. “Since when did you stop treating your car like a trashcan?” you asked, before realizing that one probably should have gone through the filter once or twice more before being let out. “Sorry,” you quickly added.
Luckily, he took it on the chin with a laugh. “Since like, five years ago when I realized I should probably take care of my investments. Are you really only noticing now?” As embarrassing as it was to admit, yeah you were. You felt kinda bad, it’s not like you didn’t hang out with Chris as often as you guys could. And you had been in his car countless times in the last five years, this really shouldn’t have been news to you. You guessed you just hadn’t thought to look.
You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess it’s normally pretty dark when I’m in your car. I’ve never really seen it in the daylight.”
Chris looked out the window at the setting sun, then looked at you and smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.” he shrugged, using one arm to drive and letting the other rest on the center console.
You wanted a distraction, so you went straight to the CD binder he still kept in his glove box. “Anything you wanna listen to?’ You asked.
He shook his head, “Whatever you want. It shouldn’t be a long drive anyway.” He informed you. With that in mind you flipped through the collection. The usual suspects were all here, as always. Queen– obviously, Kiss, Journey, Rolling Stones, all the classics you’d grown up on, as well as some new faces! Blink 182 was unexpected, Green Day less so. At some point he’d taken your advice and finally checked out Nirvana. He seemingly liked ‘em enough to look into the Foo Fighters.
Specifically, he’d picked up the album The Colour and The Shape. Which, just so happened to have one of their finer songs on it, in your humble opinion. Chris said the ride wouldn’t be a long one, so you popped the CD in and skipped straight to track eleven: Everlong
If Chris was a dog, his ears would have perked up. “Ooo, good choice.” he smiled his approval, nodding along with the opening riff.
You shrugged, “Well, it was either this or Californication”
He laughed fondly, “Damn, it’s actually been a minute since I listened to that one.” He confessed. “Do you remember when it first came out?”
“Yes!” You laughed, “We raided a 7-Eleven and drove around all night listening to it on repeat,” You remembered that night fondly. Driving down all of the back roads running on pure nothing more than high-fructose corn syrup and the kind of adrenaline that only came from laughing with your closest friend in the entire world at three AM.
Chris grinned. “I remember you trying to analyze the lyrics, despite the fact the Red Hot Chili Peppers are a pure vibes band only,” he teased.
You brushed him off, “All art is made to be interpreted.”
“Guess you’re right,” He conceded, “Still. That was a nice night.” He smiled, and for a second, with the setting sun casting the perfect hazy halo around him. You realized just how handsome Chris actually was. When he was laughing and laid back, when the lowlight made his grey eyes pop, he seemed almost too good to be true. These were all thoughts that you shouldn’t really be having about your best friend.
You needed a distraction. You looked out the front windshield to find anything worth commenting on. Luckily, you spotted something right away.
“Is that a ferris wheel?” you asked, pointing out the window.
He grinned, clearly proud of his date-that’s-not-a-date location. “Yeah!” He confirmed, “I guess the town wants to do an annual Valentines Day fair now. This is the first one.”
You tilted your head a bit to get a better look at him. “Isn’t that just a little bit corny?”
“Yeah, well, you try to plan a date that’s not at all corny, see what you come up with,”he said defensively as he looked for a place to park.
You raised an eyebrow. “ I thought this wasn’t a date.”
Chris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not,” he reaffirmed. “But it is, maybe, a historical event for the town that I figured we should get in on.”
“Yeah, but also you called it a date,” You pointed out.
“Uh, actually, I said, ‘You try to plan a non-corny date’ not ‘this is a date.’ Those are two different things,” he said with an over dramatic head roll. “So checkmate.” He laughed at his own exaggerated display, which caused you to laugh with him.
You shrugged, “Whatever it is, as long as I get a funnel cake, I’ll be happy.” The cold hit you as you stepped out of the car. You had on one of your thicker coats, but it was still February, and there was going to be a chill in the air no matter how many layers you wore. It was to be expected.
What was to be slightly less expected was Chris’s arm finding its place around your shoulders, holding you close to him and blocking the wind with his body. He didn’t say anything about it, so you didn’t say anything about it. You’d never been scared of affection in your friendship, hugs were a common occurrence. This shouldn’t have even been noteworthy.
The sun was now fully set, letting the rainbow lights of the fair take center stage as the two of you lined up for tickets. It was surprisingly short, no doubt due to people just not really wanting to deal with the cold. It was a pleasant surprise, and you’d happily take the win. You listened to the sound of laughter and carnival music filling the air as Chris handled the ticket situation. You hadn’t been to a fair in years. No real reason why, you just hadn’t really considered going to one. Life just tended to get in the way of things like that.
You found yourself actually really excited. “Come on,” Chris pulled you out of your daze, “Funnel cakes this way.” You smiled as you huddled closer to him and followed him to the various food trucks and pop up booths.
The deep fried smells of a festival were always pleasant, inviting you to over indulge in whatever monstrosities the carnies had come up with this year- your arteries be damned. You found yourself shaking with excitement as you approached the booth. Or maybe that was the cold. Who knows!
“Man, I can’t remember the last time I had a funnel cake,” He confessed as the two of you joined a line.
You nodded in agreement. “Me either honestly,” You admitted, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a carnival.”
Chris thought for a minute. “Me either actually. That… Kinda sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. Honestly I always have a lot of fun at them, ya know?”
“Yeah, I agree,” He smiled at you, “We’ll have to make a tradition of going every year. Well, assuming you haven’t dumped your current loser for someone better by then.” he shrugged.
You huffed an almost laugh and shoulder checked him gently. “Or that you haven’t found a nice girl by then.”
He actually laughed at that. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes dismissively, and before you could argue he was ordering the funnel cake. He looked back over to you, “You okay with sharing?”
“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” You said nodding and with a wave of your hand. You knew they charged way too much for what was essentially an ugly powdered doughnut.
But god, was it a delicious ugly powdered doughnut. Money was exchanged and the two of you moved to the side to wait. “So, how much do I owe you?”
He looked at you as if you had just sprouted a second head and started speaking Klingon. “Why would you owe me?” he asked back.
Now it was your turn to look at him as if he had turned bright green and started speaking backwards. “Beeeeecause I plan to eat half of it? I figured I would at least pay for half?”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean no?”
“I mean no,” he laughed. “I’m taking you out to help you feel better that your shitty boyfriend stood you up, I’m not gonna make you pay for the comfort food. What kind of jackass would that make me?”
You blinked at him.
He blinked back. “He makes you pay when you go out, doesn’t he?”
“Sure does.”
“Do you at least take turns paying?”
“Well, it’s normally my treat if I ever actually get him to go out.”
“....Does he at least pay for his half?”
“Sometimes?”
Chris blinked incredibly aggressively at you. “I hate him.”
You nodded. “I know you do.”
He shook his head. “Genuinely I don’t get what you see in him. There’s like, literally a billion other guys in the world, you could have your pick of any of em.” He made a quick turn to grab the cake.
You simply shrugged. “Not sure who else would put up with me.”
“Okay, so first off, no one is putting up with you,” he informed you. “Second off, I know at least ten guys off the top of my head that would go crazy for your number.”
“Is that Leon guy Claire keeps bringing to the Christmas party one of them?” You teased as you picked some fried dough off the plate. There were few joys in this life as pure as warm funnel cake.
Chris grimaced. “No. Well, yes, but no.”
You tilted your head. “Explain.”
Chris shook his head, “You don’t want him. He’s still hung up over a chick that got him shot.” He said as he popped a piece into his mouth.
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “She shot him?!”
Chris quickly shook his head, waving his hand and trying to swallow the dough in his mouth so he could explain. “No no no no no, She got him shot. Like, he took the shot for her, she was not the one behind the trigger. To my knowledge.”
“Oh, okay. That is less bad.” You admitted with a nod as you took some more of the cake.
“Though, she has left him for dead at least twice.”
You nearly choked on the cake. “You’re right, I don’t want anything to do with…whatever that is.”
Chris chuckled and nodded, “Yeaaah. Don’t get me wrong, I love Leon to death, he’s a great guy. But much like you he has a habit of only wanting the worst people for him.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but then realized you had no real rebuttal. So you shrugged instead. “What can I say? I really know how to pick em! I just, don’t know how to pick em well I guess.” You laughed at your own poor judgement and ate another piece of the cake.
Chris did too. “It’s fine,” he teased. “That’s what I’m here for. To let you know when you picked trash.”
“Not that I ever listen to you.”
“At least you can admit you never listen to me.” He laughed, showing off his full smile. You noticed just how cute his dimples actually were.
And then you noticed the powdered sugar on his nose. “Chris,” You giggled as you reached over. “You look like you party a little too hard on the weekends.” You joked as you wiped the powder away.
He pulled away, still giggling, “Christ! Your hands are cold!” He said, shaking his head, “We gotta do something about that.” He leaned back in, his grin mellowing into a soft smile as he looked at you.
For some reason, you suddenly felt… shy?? Why the fuck did you feel shy? It was just Chris. “Well, what do you suggest?” you asked.
“Hot chocolate,” he said with absolute certainty. “Best thing on a cold day.”
You nodded as you threw the now empty plate into the trash, “Sounds good to me!” You agreed as you moved to leave.
Only for him to catch your wrist and your breath to catch in your throat. “Hold on,” he muttered, turning you back to him. “You got something on your cheek too.” He reached up, cradling your face in his palm and gently using his thumb to wipe the sugar away. He was gentle, using a delicate hand normally reserved for priceless works of art, or divine artifacts.
And when your eyes met his, you could tell that’s exactly what he thought he was handling. No one had ever looked at you like that. No one had ever smiled at you like that. At least, not that you had noticed before. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.
You stepped back, “Thanks!” You smiled, though you had to wonder if your nerves came through in it. “Now, come on! You brought up hot cocoa and that’s all I can think about now.”
Chris nodded, moving to keep up with you. “Right.”
It was a cold winter’s night, so more than a few of the food stands were advertising cheap hot drinks. The issue was none of them were actually cheap, as is the tradition with any sort of fair. Chris didn’t seem to mind though, which was becoming increasingly frustrating.
“Chris, please,” you sighed. “You already paid for the tickets, and the funnel cake, just let me pay for the hot cocoa.”
He shook his head, as stubborn as a boulder. “No way. I already told you I’m not making you pay for a thing, especially not when I’m the one that invited you out.”
You gave an agitated huff, hoping he could feel the lasers you were trying to shoot at him with your eyes. “I feel bad.”
“Why?” Chris asked, “There’s nothing to feel bad about, I want to do this for you.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, but I’m only going to make you buy one. We’re just going to have to share.”
Chris shrugged, finally stepping into one of the shorter lines. “Fine by me.” You rolled your eyes yet again for emphasis, but stood next to him while pretending to pout. You shoved your hands under your arms to try and keep them warm, and nestled your face deeper into your coat. He wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you closer into his warmth.
You looked up to see him smiling down at you. “Thank you.”
You gave him a puzzled look. “For?”
“Letting me take you out tonight,” he shrugged with the arm he wasn’t using to hold you, “I’m having fun.”
You couldn’t fight the affectionate smile that crept onto your face. “I’m having fun too,” you admitted, leaning into him almost instinctively. This was nice. You tried to remember the last time you felt so comforted, but sadly drew a blank. If you had to take a guess, it was probably when you first started dating your current “partner.” He had been so loving and attentive in the beginning, a far cry from the asshole he was now. You used to hold out hope that things would go back to how they used to be. That this ice between you was only temporary, and once he got over whatever it was that was bugging him, he’d go back to being the man he used to be.
You were starting to accept the fact he never would. You didn't have too much time to dwell on it though, as Chris placed the hot paper cup in your hand. The warmth felt nice, and you instantly wrapped your other hand around it too.
“Well? How’s it taste?” He asked.
You took a sip, expecting the worst, as is common with simple yet over priced drinks, only to be pleasantly surprised. Your eyebrows went up as you took another sip. “It’s actually really good!”
Chris smiled, happy to see you pleased with the drink. “Oh yeah? Let me try,” He asked as you handed him the cup. His reaction mirrored yours. “I’m gonna be honest, I was expecting hot water. That’s actually not half bad.”
“Right?” You laughed.
He handed you the cup back. “Here, you hold onto it,” he said. “Keep your hands warm.”
You happily took the drink, but still tilted your head at him. “What about you?”
He shrugged, “I’ll live.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Oh come on Chris. You don’t have to be so self-sacrificing all the time, ya know.”
He laughed defensively. “What? I’m not ‘self-sacrificing’ just cause I’m letting you warm up a bit.” he said as the two of you started to walk together again.
“Whatever,” you shrugged, taking his hand in your now significantly warmer hand, “If you’re not gonna warm yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.” you said as you took another sip.
Chris smiled. “Works for me,” He said as he took the cup for another drink, then quickly handed it back to you. The thought that his lips had been where yours had slipped into your brain almost undetected. Almost. When it transformed into “It’s almost like an indirect kiss,” you took notice. You thought about what it would have been like to actually kiss Chris. To hold him close to you and feel his stubble tickle your skin. To have him wrap his arms around you, to maybe even hold your face like he did before. His lips looked soft.
You snapped yourself out of that right the fuck away. Absolutely not, you were NOT allowed to think of Chris that way. You’d never thought of him like that before, you had no idea what had gotten into you.
Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t quite true that you had never thought of Chris that way before. You had been friends since grade school, it was only natural that at least once during all those years of close friendship you’d consider it. But it was never seriously, never for more than a fleeting second. He was your closest confidant, you couldn’t risk it.
But something about tonight felt so different from all the other nights before. Something in the way he moved and laughed; it felt so safe and warm, more so than usual. Something in the air made it feel like a risk worth taking.
NO. NO. STOP IT. You bit your own tongue to ground yourself back in reality. The reality where you were in a relationship and Chris was just your friend and absolutely nothing more. He said it himself, this wasn’t a date. How fucking cliche would it be to catch feelings for your best friend on Valentines Day night at a fucking lovers festival? What was this, shitty fanfiction? Absolutely not.
Oh shit, Chris had been talking this whole time and was looking at you now expecting you to speak. Fuck. “Uh, yeah no, you’re totally right, I also think exactly what you think. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Chris raised an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t listening were you?”
“I was!” You said, far too defensively for someone who was actually listening.
Chris smirked with amusement. “Oh yeah? Then what was I talking about?”
Your stomach dropped. “Uhh… The band Queen?’
“Lucky guess.”
“All I’m hearing is that I win.”
He laughed at that. “Don’t you always?” he asked.
It was at that point you spotted it. Hanging over with one of the carnival games, a grand prize to be won. It was a 4ft tall, grumpy, green, wolf plush. One with a cartoonishly exaggerated frown and angry eyes. You couldn’t help but think that was what Chris’s fursona would look like if he had one, and it made you laugh.
Which caught Chris’s attention. “What?” he asked, looking behind himself to where you were staring.
“Look!” You pointed with childish excitement. “That wolf over there, it’s so cute!” You gushed.
“What, the green one?” he asked, already leading the two of you over to the game, “What’s so funny about it?”
Oh. You absolutely could not tell him it was because it reminded you of him. “It’s just so cute!” You giggled. “Look how angry it is, it’s precious!”
Chris grinned at your excitement. “Yeah? Bet I can win it for you.”
“Oh please,” you were about to argue about how these games were all rigged, but before you could, the guy running the game started talking.
“Step right up guys, and win your gals a prize!” Okay, well that was heteronormative to say the least. “Game is simple, shoot the cupid, win your doll a doll. The more you shoot, the better the prize.”
You could already see the over confident gleam in Chris’s eyes. “How much to play?’ He asked.
“Just two tickets my friend.”
Chris grinned at you quickly before turning back to the carnie and handing him two tickets. The man handed Chris the airsoft gun as he went to start the game. He looked at it and frowned a bit, staring down the sight. “What is it?” you asked.
Chris shook his head, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Before you could question him further, the Entry of the Gladiators started playing and the two rows of cupids started moving on the track, bouncing up and down as they went. Chris took aim, taking the time to get the vibe of how fast the targets moved and bobbed. Then he fired.
And missed by a mile and a half. You were honestly gobsmacked to see how hard he whiffed that shot. You knew Chris to be a master marksman, so what the hell happened here?
Chris seemed undeterred though, almost as if he expected it. What unfolded next could have been described as embarrassing. You, on the other hand would prefer to describe it as harrowing, brave even. You would have preferred to do so. Even you had to admit this was a bit painful to watch.
In the end, he shot two. “Sorry big guy,” the man running the game said, handing Chris a small stuffed monkey as a consolation prize.
Chris shook his head and held up his hand, “Keep it,” he said. “That was just a practice round.” And he handed the man two more tickets.
The carnie seemed genuinely a little shocked. “Whatever man, it’s your money dude.” He muttered.
Entry of the Gladiators started again, and both you and the carnie braced for another embarrassing display. This time it was like a completely different man had taken the gun. Every shot was a dead ringer, knocking out the plywood cherubs with the speed and precision far more fitting of a man with Chris’s reputation. The game normally gives you three minutes to shoot as many targets as you could.
Chris knocked them all out in half that time. His smile was cocky enough that it would have been punchable if not so well earned. “Well, I think that went better the second time around, what do you think?” he asked.
The game runner just blinked. “Uh, I mean yeah! Very impressive sir!” he said, slipping back into character, “You’ve won anything on the wall, pick your prize!”
“The green wolf,” he pointed. The man handed him the plushie, and Chris in turn handed it to you.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “What was that?!”
Chris tilted his head, “Hmm? Oh, you mean the first round? The sight on the gun was misaligned, it’s how they rig it. I needed to get used to the actual aim.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant despite how happy he was to have his ego stoked.
“So you needed a whole round to get used to it?” You asked.
He laughed. Well, It wasn’t really a laugh. More like one quick, exaggerated HA! Before he explained. “No.” He shook his head, “No, I threw the first round cause I thought it was funny.” He grinned.
You laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder. “You’re a jerk,” You teased.
“How am I a jerk!?” He laughed.
“I don’t know, I just know you are one!”
“Oh, well, yeah okay that’s fair enough.” The two of you giggled together as you walked.
You smiled as you hugged your prize close. “Well thank you. I appreciate the effort.”
He looked at you with soft eyes. “You’re worth the effort.”
You felt that familiar warmth radiate in your chest again, and hid your face in the wolf to hide any signs that his words affected you. Chris finished off the hot chocolate, throwing the empty cup away in a nearby bin. It was getting late. “You know what would be the perfect way to end the night?”
“Hmm?” you asked, looking up.
“We should ride the ferris wheel.” He grinned. You couldn’t agree more.
💘💘💘
Before you knew it, you were cozying up to Chris on the bench of the ferris wheel seat, toddler sized plush wedged firmly between you and the short wall of the basket, pressing you just that much closer to Chris.
Not that you were complaining. As the ride started, you found yourself drawn to his side. He radiated warmth, and comfort, and you were tired of fighting the urge to press yourself into him. He gladly accepted your presence, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. A silent act of affection he’d been doing all night, made to feel just that little bit more intimate due to the tight space.
You looked out into the park as the wheel went up. The view was breathtaking, the colors sparkling against the night sky. The higher you got, the more of the town came into view, a warm glow framing the rainbow of the fair.
“The view’s gorgeous,” you whispered, looking over to Chris.
“Yeah, it is,” he muttered. Had he been looking at you this entire time? You weren't sure. What you were sure of, was that Chris looked… different in this light. The technicolor glow danced across his face and in his grey eyes, making him look softer all the way up here. Was his jaw always that sharp, or was the scruff just doing a lot of good work for him? Was his smile always that welcoming, his arms always this safe, his eyes always so bright with affection? It was like you were seeing him– really seeing him for the first time since he and Claire walked into that group home all those years ago.
He wasn’t a scared little kid anymore, or an overly rebellious teenager. At some point, he had grown into an entire adult when you weren’t even looking. Or maybe you just hadn't thought to look. Your heart rattled your ribs, like a crazed animal trying to get out of its cage. And for the first time tonight, you let it.
How had you missed it? You’d spent so long chasing the inferno of love, you’d never even stopped to consider that you already felt it. Right here, sitting next to your best friend. The one person in the world that could ever truly understand. He’d always treated you like you were important, like you were precious. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d taken it for granted before.
He had a gentle look in his eye you didn’t quite recognize. Something intense, and full of adoration. He bit his lip, and you thought that should be illegal. It was a dangerous look on him. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had a boyfriend. You had a partner who was paranoid enough about Chris as is. Of course, nothing was keeping you from taking the trash to the curb. You couldn’t believe this was the first time that thought had occurred to you.
Chris held you just a fraction tighter, and said your name like it was a soft prayer. You felt your heart do backflips you hadn’t previously thought it capable of. So this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. “Chris,” you whispered back.
The hand that wasn’t wrapped around you gently came to cradle your face. He let out a small breath, choking back all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I…I love you, you know.” It wasn’t an uncommon phrase in your friendships. You’d said it countless times: to him, to Claire, to Jill. Chris had said it to you what felt like a thousand times before, and you’d always known exactly what he meant.
It was different this time. But as long as you didn’t acknowledge it, you could hide behind the familiarity. “I love you too.” you confessed. Your brain clocked out for the night, and your heart took over the shift. You felt yourself lean in to him, anticipation setting your spine on fire as you realized he was leaning in too. His lips looked so soft.
The sudden jolt of the wheel coming to a stop knocked you both out of it. You both jumped, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could in the small basket. You blinked at each other, wide eyed and slightly panicked as what had almost happened settled between you, and the implications of it. You two were in uncharted territory here.
“Rides over,” the ride jock said as he tapped the back of yours and Chris’s seat. “Feel free to carry on whatever you have going on at home.”
You were both still too caught up in yourselves to really argue with the man, or correct him for that matter. You simply gathered your belongings and made your way to the car. This time the two of you walked with a healthy distance between you, the space filled instead with the impenetrable wall of the status quo. God, what had you been thinking?! There was no coming back from a kiss, that was a boundary that you couldn’t uncross. Everything would have changed if you had actually kissed.
Everything felt like it had already changed. It was quiet until you had gotten to the car.
He was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, not quite able to look you in the eye. That…was not what you expected to hear.
“What? Chris, what do you have to be sorry for?”
“I– I made it weird, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just- we were so close, and I’ve always thought you were so pretty, and–”
“Chris.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. You have a boyfriend, and I told you this wasn’t a date–”
“Chris.”
“And we’ve been friends for so long, why would you ever see me like that–”
“Chris.” You said with much more emphasis this time, putting a hand on his arm. You didn’t like where that was going. He finally looked at you. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.
Then opened it again. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop that,” you said, sternly enough to get the point across. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We were both just, caught up in the moment.”
Chris nodded. “Right.”
You continued. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We can just ignore it.”
He paused for a second. Then nodded again. “Right.” he agreed.
The drive back was quiet. Thick with everything left unsaid, filled with whatever the classic rock station wanted to fill it with. The Promise by When In Rome felt… a little bit targeted, you wouldn’t lie. But you both let it play out nonetheless. You even took comfort in Chris quietly humming along with it. It took some of the edge off the silence.
As always when you made it to your house, he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘To make sure you get inside safe,’ he’d always say. As the two of you got to the top step of your porch, you faced each other with smiles.
A little closer to each other than was necessary.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you said, giving a little lift to your new wolf friend, “Thank you, again.”
“Of course,” He nodded, “I had a lot of fun tonight too.”
His eyes locked on yours. “We should do it again sometime,” you said.
“Carnivals here all week,” he pointed out. Was he getting closer? Or were you?
“I should really go inside.”
“I should probably get going too.” Neither of you made even an attempt to do either of those things. His hand reached up and held your face, this thumb caressing your cheek.
He whispered your name again, the same way he had on the ferris wheel. “I… Can I kiss you?”
You hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Not after the apology tour in his car. And you definitely hadn’t expect to be so fucking giddy about it either. “Please.”
Chris didn’t need to be told twice. In the beat of a butterfly's wings his lips were on yours, and they were just as soft as you imagined. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer than you thought possible, and yet still you got the vibe it wasn’t close enough for him. With one arm still holding the wolf, the other came up to wrap around his neck.
You felt his teeth drag across your lower lip, asking to deepen the kiss. You gladly invited him in, happily tasting the sugar and chocolate still on his tongue. He pulled you impossibly close, the kiss intensifying with every second it was allowed to go on. You felt him start to pick you up, and for the first time you realized just how strong Chris was now.
You were the one to pull back, realizing that this was getting a little too intense for your front porch. Chris either wasn’t thinking about that or didn’t care, he tried to close the gap immediately, only to be stopped by your gentle hand on his chest.
“You wanna come inside for some coffee?” You asked.
He blinked, as if only now realizing the two of you were still outside. “I’d love to.”
You fumbled with the lock on your door, suddenly cursing yourself for your desire not to be robbed. The two of you stumbled inside once you got the door open. You threw the stuffed animal on the couch, Chris kicked the door closed and you both ripped your coats off. And before the two of you had the forethought to reconsider, your hands were on each other again, lips pressed together in a heated kiss. He picked you up, supporting your lower half with only one arm while the other kept your chest pressed firmly against his.
Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and for a second you thought he was about to take you on the couch. Not that you would have minded, but you were just as if not more happy when he started to make his way to your bedroom. He managed to make his way past your door, kicking it closed before turning around and pressing you to it.
The kiss started to migrate, from your lips down to your neck. A shiver ran through you as he found that sweet, soft spot on your neck. The one that always made you melt into nothing. “Fuck, Chris–” you moaned, fingers coming up to tug at his short hair.
“I love it when you say my name,” he muttered, coming up to recapture your lips. He held you up with his right arm, while his left hand drifted up and under your shirt. His hand was surprisingly warm, and welcomed against your chill skin. You almost didn’t notice when he found your bra clasp, effortlessly undoing, with one hand no less.
You felt your cheeks catch fire. “Oh!” You gasped, “You’ve definitely done that before.”
He gave you an almost bashful smile. “Once or twice,” he admitted. You didn’t know why that was so shocking to you. Maybe it was because Chris had never really had a long term partner in all the years you’d known him, but still. You had seen him take plenty of gorgeous girls and immaculate men home before.
No time to think about partners of lovers past. He moved to lay you down on the bed, pressing you into the soft mattress as he pressed his mouth to you. You could feel the tent in his jeans against your leg, filling you with anticipation. He pulled back long enough to take his shirt off and your mouth went dry. You knew Chris was fit, his job kept him that way, But knowing that fact and actively seeing it were two different things. He was beautiful; toned, well kept muscles flexing and somehow still defined under a soft layer of fat. Chris looked like a classic Greek statue, an Adonis that would have made Aphrodite herself blush.
And he was looking at you as if you were Venus, the very definition of beauty and grace. And you didn’t even have to take your shirt off! Still, he had put on a show so you might as well return the favor. You sat up and slipped your shirt off, your unclasped bra threatening to come off had you not caught it.
Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he huffed. What a poet.
“Yeah?” you asked, slowly letting your bra fall off your shoulders, tossing it to the side. Looking at Chris, you suddenly understood the phrase ‘fucking me with your eyes.’
He nodded. “Yeah.” It was the last thing he said before his mouth found your neck again, targeting the sweet spot that made you moan the loudest. He wanted to dig his teeth in there, leave a dark purple bruise for you to model for him in the morning. He wanted to– no he needed to mark you as his, undeniably his. He had waited for you for so long, it was only fair really.
You brought him back to reality by tugging softly at his hair, whimpering his name. He pulled back, admiring his work with a near wicked smirk. Good luck covering that up. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, placing one last soft kiss to the mark, before kissing down your body. Down your neck, over your collar bone, through the peaks and valleys of your chest. Down your stomach, your hips, and finally along the waistband of your pants.
You lifted your hips up, eagerly inviting him to take them off. He was quick, undoing the button on your jeans before pulling them and your underwear down in one fluid motion. He pulled back, taking you all in. You watched the way his chest heaved with every breath, desire radiating off him in thick waves. It was warm in your room, and you watched as sweat started to bead on his chest and get caught in the hair there. Your eyes followed the thick happy trail down the waistband of his boxers, peeking out ever so slightly from above his jeans.
You wanted to pull them down with your teeth. Chris’s eyes met yours before you could though. “You look so much better than I ever could have imagined,” he groaned. You didn’t quite have time to unpack all of the implications of that before he was in between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him kiss the inside of your knee, looking at you with a dangerous fire in his eye that you had never seen from him before.
He kissed down your leg, nipping and leaving a trail of small marks in his wake as he moved to where you really needed him. He placed your knee over his shoulder as he scraped his teeth along the inside of your thigh. Finally, you could feel him hovering over your slit– felt his breath against your aching, wet, cunt. You braced for impact.
Just for him to skip right over it and go to kissing your other thigh. “Chris!” You snapped, “What the hell!?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows.
He just smirked at you from behind your thigh. “What?” he asked, tilting his head. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong?! Why didn’t you–” you waved your hand for emphasis. “You know.”
He definitely knew. “No, I don’t know.” he sighed. Liar. “Tell me what you want.”
You felt your face catch fire as you realized what he wanted you to do. “I–” you started, trying not to let your embarrassment over take you. “I want you.”
He hummed, considering your statement. “I’m right here doll,” he informed you, “You have me.”
You groaned in frustration. You had no fucking clue why you were struggling with this. You had never been the “blushing bride” trope before, and far from a prude. But, something about him specifically brought out a side of you that you weren’t entirely familiar with.
You were excited to get to know that side of you though. “ Chris, I need you,” you begged.
You watched his pupils flair with lust. That almost got him, but he stood firm. “Need me to what?”
Ah fuck being coy, this was getting frustrating. “Chris, please. I want your mouth so bad it fucking hurts. I need you, please, I wanna cum on your mouth so bad.”
It was like you had casted a spell on him. In an instant you felt his tongue finally licking a stripe up your slit, gathering all of the slick there. A sick sense of pride filled you when he moaned at your taste. You tasted like ambrosia to him, and he couldn’t get over just how wet and needy you were from kissing alone. It drove him mad.
You gasped as you felt him take your clit into his mouth, sucking on it sharply and rolling his tongue over the nub. Pleasure spiked through you, coursing its way through your core and to your head. One hand clenched the sheets while the other found the back of his head, pulling him closer to you. Your head fell back as you got lost in the bliss, every swipe of his tongue sending another wave of warmth through you.
Heat starts to pool and swirl in your lower stomach, and you don’t even care that the cheesy bastard is spelling out his name with his tongue against you. You almost think about how possessive that is, his need to paint his name across every inch of you.
Then you feel two of his thick fingers start to circle your cunt, and suddenly you're not thinking much of anything. Even the thought of higher thinking and functioning goes out the door as he presses his digits into you. The sound he pulls out of you is near embarrassing, but the stretch feels so electric that you can’t even think to care.
You feel his fingers curl up, searching for the golden soft spot inside of you. He’s meticulous, and it doesn’t take him long to find it, the gasp you give him coupled with your thighs clenching around his head telling him everything he needed to know. Target acquired. He angles his hand to better massage the spot.
A tight coil was wrapping in on itself in your lower stomach, so tight now it was threatening to snap. Electric waves of euphoria pulsed through you, stars started to form before your eyes. You felt your hips buck to meet his fingers, lost in the way his mouth worshiped your clit. Chris hit a perfect stride, one that made your legs shake.
“Fuck Chris, right there,” you gasped as if he hadn’t figured it out already. “Just like that, don’t stop.” And Chris, angel that he was, actually listened when you told him not to change anything, keeping the same pace and pattern– hitting a home run with just a few swipes of his tongue.
The coil inside you finally snapped, breaking open the dam and overflowing your senses with dopamine, oxytocin, and euphoria. Hot waves of bliss crashed into you, setting every single nerve ending you had on fire. You didn’t even notice Chris humping the mattress in a truly humbling display, acting like a teenager in his own desperate need for friction.
He didn’t stop either, gladly working you through your climax. He didn’t think he could have stopped even if he wanted to. He was drunk on your taste, high on your pleasure, and the fact that it was him making you feel this good. He groaned into you as he felt the way your cunt fluttered around his fingers, already imagining what it would feel like on his cock. He didn’t stop till you physically pushed him away, feeling overwhelmed.
Chris looked at you the way a hungry wolf looked at a rabbit; ravenous, and desperate to consume. To make every part of you a part of him. “You’re perfect,” he moaned as he closed the gap between the two of you. “And all fucking mine,” he added as he captured your lips in a demanding kiss, your taste still lingering on his tongue. There was a jealous edge to his voice, and you wondered if it had been there this whole time. You weren’t sure, but you were sure you liked the sound of it.
He pulled back, rutting his still clothed and painfully hard cock against you, needing some form of relief. “Say it,” He begged, “Say you’re mine.”
You didn’t even have to think twice. “I’m yours Chris. All yours. I think I always have been.” The sound that came from him was sinful, and he finally gave into himself; sitting up and undoing his belt. You sat up with him to finish the job, palming him through the fabric and taking a secret joy in the way he bucked into even your tiniest touch. You slowly undid the button holding his pants together.
You must have been too slow for him. He took over, pushing his jeans and boxers down and finally taking himself out. He moaned in relief, giving himself a few strokes to ease his discomfort. He didn’t notice your wide eyed, almost nervous stare. You were no virgin, you had handled your fair share of dicks, and handled them incredibly well in your humble opinion.
Chris was intimidating though. He wasn’t too much longer than most, but he was far thicker than the rest. It looked heavy, and curved slightly upward. The dark tip was already leaking and desperate for attention. For your attention.
He noticed you staring, saw the look on your face. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he promised. He knew he could be… a lot, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.
You swallowed the invisible lump in your throat. “I want to, it’s just… kind of intimidating.”
Chris nodded, understanding the apprehension. “We’ll go slow,” He promised, taking your hand and inviting you to get more well acquainted with his cock. You gladly took him up on the offer, taking him in your palm. You felt a sense of power at the way he shuddered under your touch, just as needy for you as you were for him.
You focused on the head, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip and using it to coat his dick. He moaned softly for you, making no move to hide how good even just your softest touch felt. You stroked his shaft, tracing out the prominent veins as he twitched in your hand. He wrapped an arm around your lower back, taking your free hand in his and bringing your wrist up for a kiss. All while bucking into your touch.
Such a soft act mixed with such an erotic scene sent a pulse of electricity to your core. Your soon-to-be-ex had never made you feel like this before. You gripped Chris slightly tighter, earning you a soft moan from him as you stroked his sensitive cock. He looked at you with hooded, lust filled eyes; emboldening you to pick up the pace.
His breath hitched in his chest, his dick twitched, he was clearly happy with the change. You watched his eyes flutter shut as he bucked his hips into your touch, building up a steady rhythm and getting lost in the sensation. You smirked at him, feeling proud of the way he melted into your hand. “Feel good?” You asked.
He huffed an almost laugh, “So good,” he confirmed, bucking into your grip, “You’re doing so good for me.” The praise went straight to your core and you bit your lip. Suddenly, all you wanted was to be good for him. You became more persistent, switching from long, languid strokes over his entire length to quick sharp motions that focused on the tip. You felt Chris shudder as he reached down, tips of his fingers teasing your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, not fully expecting him to return the favor.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “We reward good behavior around here.” he said, massaging expert circles into you. You faltered, still sensitive from your previous climax. Your thighs twitched and you fell the short distance into Chris’s chest. Still, you may have fumbled a bit, but you didn’t forget the task at hand here.
Chris smirked, “Look at my pretty little doll, twitchy and needy and still trying to return the favor. Aren’t you just an angel?” The tone came out more condescending than he meant it too, but it wasn’t like you noticed. You just honestly really liked the sound of him talking.
He could tell just how much you liked it. “So fucking wet,” he continued, “And all for me. You’re going to feel so good wrapped around me, I can tell.” His voice was getting husky, thick with desire and you realized he was getting there with just your hand. You were getting close too, hips rocking against him, puffy clit catching on his palm. The stimulation mixed with his voice was intoxicating.
And as much as Chris would have loved to watch you cum all over his hand, he would have much rather watched you come apart on his dick instead. He pulled you close and nipped at your ear. “I need you,” he groaned.
“Need me to what?”
He almost laughed, “I need you to let me fuck that pretty little cunt until you can’t think about anything other than how good I feel inside of you.” You felt like you were on fire.
Well, since he asked so nicely. “Please,” you nodded.
Chris pulled your face to his, hand on the back of your head as he kissed you roughly before pressing your back into the mattress. He sat up above you, and swallowed roughly. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and he took you in, admiring his work decorating your body with his teeth. There would be no denying he was here in the morning.
He grabbed your hips and placed himself in between your legs, spreading them to make room. He ran the thick tip of his cock along your slit, collecting the natural slick there. “Think you’re ready for me doll?” he asked. You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive as you braced yourself for him.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work here baby. I wanna hear your pretty voice.”
How dare he. “Yes, Chris,” you nodded. “I'm ready.”
Chris grinned. “See? I knew you could speak.” You ignored the condescension in his tone, far more preoccupied with the feeling of him pressing inside you, stretching you out in all of the most beautiful ways. In all your years of friendship, you never imagined Chris would feel like this. You moaned out his name in an almost pathetic display of need, hands gripping the sheets so hard you would have been worried about ripping them if you weren’t so preoccupied.
Chris hissed through his teeth as he fought the need to shove himself entirely inside your warm, welcoming cunt. A part of him wanted to split you in half and fuck you for all that you were worth, to mold your pretty little pussy to his cock and ruin you for any other man. But another, much louder part of him wanted to make sure you were comfortable. At least for the first go around. So he went almost painfully slow, only taking as much as you would give.
You moaned as you tried to adjust to his size, tense both in apprehension and from the burn. He rubbed soothing circles into your hips, leaning down to press soft kisses into your jawline. “Come on baby,” he moaned as he kissed the shell of your ear, “relax for me.” His free hand reached down as he spoke, massaging slow, meticulous circles into your clit. Slowly, the pain started to subside, leaving you with nothing but the desperate need for him to fucking move.
“Chris,” you moaned, hand coming up to touch his back, hoping he’d get the message because you weren’t confident in your ability to say much other than his name.
Luckily, he knew exactly what you wanted, and slowly set a pace that left you reeling. “There ya go doll, that’s it,” he encouraged, angling his hips so he could hit that soft spot inside you, “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re doing so good for me.” He praised as he rocked his hips into yours, each thrust sending a new fresh wave of bliss throughout you. Your head felt like it was filled with stardust, and all you could focus on was his pretty voice and how perfectly he filled you.
He took one of your legs and placed it higher on his hip, knowing he got the angle right when he felt your nails dig into his taunt back, leaving pretty little red moons, and gasped out what may just have been the hottest sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Yeah?” he grinned. “Like that doll?”
He really needed to stop asking questions, you were going to start biting him about it. You nodded, rushing out a quick “yes,” and hoping that would be enough for him.
He chuckled almost darkly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me baby doll,” he groaned, picking up the pace and sending you into the stratosphere. “You’re taking me so good love, you’re so fucking perfect for me.”
Had you been more cognizant, you might have had the thought to unpack the latest pet name. Might. It didn’t quite matter though, because right now you were lost in a sea of euphoria, threatening to drown in a tsunami of dopamine. Your entire body felt like a livewire, electric and ready to snap, flying closer and closer to the edge with every perfectly timed rut of his hips.
Your other hand flew up to his hair, pulling probably harder than you actually meant to and still managing to pull a filthy moan from him. “Chris,” you whined. “Chris I’m close.”
He nodded, making sure not to change his pace or pressure, “Cum for me baby, please,” he begged. “Need it, need you.”
It was like your body was just instinctively waiting for permission, because the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth you felt yourself fly off the ledge, falling into a pit of oxytocin and dopamine, pleasure exploding through your every nerve ending to wreak you, and leave you shaking like the last leaves in fall. You were pretty sure you said, something? Or maybe he did? Honestly you were in no place to decipher words.
Your peak brought him to his own, the feeling of your perfect heat fluttering round him, seemingly pulling him impossibly deeper pulled him over the edge with you with one last thrust. He came hard inside of you, telling himself he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried and knowing even then he was lying to himself. He fucked you through both of your highs, not letting up until he physically had to stop. He managed to avoid collapsing on top of you, rolling you both over so he’d land beside you instead.
You both laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your shared sin while he peppered light kisses across your forehead. “You okay?” he asked gently.
“Never better,” you laughed, but it came out more like breathy little huffs.
He smiled adoringly at you as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “Glad to hear it,” he muttered. You grimaced as he finally pulled out, almost feeling like you’d lost something. “Come on,” he muttered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Chris gave you a quick kiss before leaving the room, coming back with a warm rag and a water bottle. He helped you get cleaned up before gathering you in his arms again, propping you up on his chest while you tried to rehydrate. You took another drink before looking up at him. “Yes, you can light a smoke.”
Chris looked like he’d been caught in a crime. “What? I didn’t say anything about–”
“You didn’t have to,” you teased. “I can feel you getting twitchy, just smoke the cigarette.”
He looked relieved. “You sure you don’t mind?” Even as he asked he was reaching for his jeans. “I know you’re not a huge fan of the smell.”
You waved a hand at him. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” you said, pointing to an abandoned water bottle on your bedside. “There’s your ashtray.”
He pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket, throwing his pants back on the floor. He lit the smoke, throwing the lighter on your night stand before relaxing back on the bed, pulling you back to his side. You melted into him, closing your eyes and taking everything in.
The silence was comfortable this time, nothing like it was on the way back from the fair. Everything felt familiar and right. From the cigarette smoke to the soft beating of his heart, the entire scene felt like a snapshot from your future.
You thought that if you had ever crossed this line with Chris, it would be awkward– friendship ruining even. You were almost shocked to realize that, no actually, it didn’t feel like anything had changed.
It felt like this is where you were supposed to be the entire time. “So,” he finally asked, “What’s the plan?”
“What’s the plan?” You laughed, “The plan is leaving fuckface. And, well,” you looked up at him, “Hopefully we can explore whatever this is?”
Chris’s smile could have lit up an entire city. “Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, pulling you into another kiss. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”
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