Where We Don't Belong

by Eliza

Title: Where We Don't Belong (1/1)
Author: Eliza
Subject info: B and K more than B/K
Song and Artist: "What you didn't say" Mary Chapin Carpenter Lyrics provided by: Rifka
Feedback to: snarkhunt@hazpub.com
A/N: Set season 6, post Beecher's re-incarceration and before Keller's "operation Schillinger" is set into motion. Season 6 hasn't yet aired here, so if there are discrepancies, well, hopefully you can deal. :)

Thanks to Aline for listening to me whinge, a lot, and for providing encouragement "above and beyond", and thanks to Mav, just because.

Disclaimers: No infringement intended and no money is being made. They're all Fontana's.

Written for the OZ Lyric Wheel challenge.

Where We Don't Belong

You smell it before you see him, the warm dampness of skin just washed. And although you crave him constantly, you want him even more like this, clean and musky, more sensitive to your touch from being assaulted with abrasive soap and water. Your eyes meet and he stands before you and grins as you inhale, your pupils dilating. You can see his cock hardening, and trail fingers up his leg until you hear the sharp intake of breath. He drags you to your feet and then you're tugging at clothes, no words, no finesse, but you don't want finesse; you want to belong, want to taste him in the back of your throat, want to lick, suck, grip and fuck him until he smells like you again.

The memory when you come out of it makes you jump, its intensity searing as you're brought back to the present, remembering now weeks of watching him hate you from afar. You've found that although you probably should be feeling remorse, should be wracked with guilt, you feel nothing but cold relief that he's back inside, back where you can keep an eye on him. Sometimes you believe as you watch him, everything he does and everyone he talks to, that it's just to keep yourself from thinking about him. You don't think of how he looked when he loved you, or how he looked at you when he walked back through those gates, or how different those two looks are.

More a man of action than thought - you weren't lying way back when, when you told him you never think anything through - you decide, lying in the pod he's refused on more than one occasion to share with you, that it's time.

You find him leaning against one of the washers in the centre of the room, brooding look on his face completing the picture. He sees you come in and studiously avoids meeting your eyes, he's been doing that ever since he got put back in, but you notice his back straightens, the tension coming off him in waves. Still, that's gotta be a good sign, right? Edginess you can take, indifference is the killer.

You walk up to him, lounge against another washer and just watch him. Silence stretches out between you; knowing he's not one to let things lie, you wait.

"What do you want?" He spits the words at the door, and for a second, you're painfully unsure of yourself, the self-assuredness you wear like a mask slipping, leaving you floundering in skin that feels suddenly too tight.

"Just want to talk to you. See how you're doin'."

He snorts. "I'm just peachy, thanks to you."

"Don't you ever want to get off your high horse, Beecher, see what the view's like from down here? No one held a fucking gun to your head, you're a big boy, you took that decision all on your lonesome."

"Excuse me? Jesus Christ, Keller, you've got some nerve."

He realizes when the familiar reply doesn't come that this time is different. You've had this conversation more times than you can count, and you're sick of it, you just want to move past it. When all else has left, the body still remains, and remembers, you're counting on that now as you corner him against the washer, one hand already reaching into his pants, the other gripping his arm so hard you know you'll leave bruises. Marking him like you used to, back when he was yours. You speak directly into his ear, and his answering shiver makes you gasp, you hadn't realized how damn badly you needed this, how much you'd missed it, missed hearing the hiss of breath as he fights arousal, missed feeling his cock harden in your grasp, missed smelling him so close. You missed him.

"Remember this, Beecher?" Your voice is loud in the semi-closed room, and you lower it to a whisper. "Remember this? Back when you wanted me? Back when you loved me?"

The surge of power that rushes through you at his short, harsh gasps doesn't surprise you so much as feed the growing need to see him return to you, to see him come undone. His eyes are shut tight so as to not see you, but even that doesn't bother you like it should. You tighten your grip and stroke him harder, and for an instant he surrenders, revelling in his body's memory.

There's a moment before he touches you when you're not sure if he will, a moment of hesitation that it physically hurts you to let pass. When his fingers graze your hip, you hear yourself laugh, surprised at how easy it was. And then it's over, and you'll forever wonder if that was the moment you lost him, if you'd have been able to wrangle your way back into his heart, his life, if only you'd been able to keep that laugh from breaking out.

All of a sudden you're pinned in place by his fingers, and he deliberately stills your movements and slowly opens his eyes to meet yours, hard and unflinching. As much as you want to look away, you can't, and when he speaks, it's so low you can barely hear it, in a voice you haven't heard from him in years, not since the time you held him down and broke him. If you were thinking straight, you'd see the irony in your situation, but you aren't, and all you can do it wait for the hammer to fall.

"Get your hand off me, Keller, before I fucking break it off."

You obey, but not without first pulling his head sharply to meet yours in a kiss he fights more than he should.

"What's the matter, Beecher? Thrill gone so soon?"

He doesn't answer. As you release him and take a step back, he hasn't looked away and you can't help but wonder if that really is desire on his face, or something else. He looks different, and that more than anything scares you, that he may have changed.

"You belong with me," your tone grows more desperate, your breathing more erratic as you feel the moment, him, slipping away from you. "I belong with you."

"No one belongs where they're not wanted."

You literally stumble on the words spoken so dispassionately, and he catches you before he catches himself, letting you go as if burned. The first threads of fear and doubt worm their way inside you; for the first time you're not sure, you aren't certain you can win him back, and it takes everything you've got just to cover up the cracks you can feel exposed. It takes a moment, but then you're ready to rally back; still, you don't know what you can say now, he's not ready to hear it anyway. You'll need some other game plan. Sex isn't going to cut it this time.

You finally risk a glance at him to find him tightly under control, breathing schooled into regularity, eyes open but unseeing, the only evidence of your interlude the clenched fist he struggles to keep by his side. Beecher can have this battle. But make no mistake about it, you're gonna win the war.

You turn to look back at him when you reach the door. "Beech?" He glances in your general vicinity, despair etched on his face as you point a finger at him and smirk: "You're going to forgive me, Toby. I'm going to get through to you, if it fucking kills me."

What You Didn't Say
Mary Chapin Carpenter

I can read your eyes just like a book
You tell me different, but I know that look And I don't have to guess what's between the lines So what in the world am I still doing here You push me away when I get too near
Saying love's too simple to analyze
So why do I feel confused
Why do I feel so used
Like a worn-out thought you threw away
It wasn't what you said, it's what you didn't say Where are the windows, where are the doors? I haven't the key to your heart anymore I haven't a clue to what's gone wrong
'Cause you look at me sometimes as if I weren't there You say you're listening, but you never hear The strains of silence have grown so strong I never wanted to doubt you
But I'd be better off without you
I'm no good at looking the other way
It wasn't what you said, it's what you didn't say So look at me one last time
With eyes that still know how to shine
Hold me like you won't let go
But you let go anyway
No one belongs where they're not wanted You're just a ghost, and my heart is haunted When I said goodbye, you didn't even beg me to stay It wasn't what you said, it's what you didn't say No baby, it wasn't what you said, it's what you didn't say

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