Hi, Society: Every Day is Valentine's Day

by Riley Cannon

Title: Hi, Society: Each Day is Valentine's Day - 1/1 Series: Yes; sequel to main story-in-progress + other sequels; just keep your scorecards handy and you won't get confused.<g> Author: Riley Cannon
Subject: B/K, extreme AU; NC-17
Feedback: Sure
Archive: Not at this time.
Warnings/disclaimers: Fontana & HBO own them. I only borrow them for non-profit romance, angst, and smut. Hardly any angst in this; lots of the other stuff, though.

Spoiler warnings: As with the other sequels to the main story, if you want to maintain your suspense over how that all comes out in the end, read no further. `Kay?

Summary: The boys celebrate Valentine's Day in 1940.

Thank you to Danielle, who is becoming my Music Elf, for giving me a few details about Chicago blues of that period.

And dedicated to Christy, official HiSoc Elf, just for being her and getting the HiSoc boys even better than I do sometimes. We are all indebted to her for all the nudging and encouragement, and endless supply of plotbunnies.

Happy VDay, everybody.


"Hi, Society: Each Day is Valentine's Day"

Chris paid the cab driver and shifted his bag to his other hand as he stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the house. It was cold and dark, snowflakes caught in the streetlights, and the most welcoming sight in the world right then were the windows glowing with warm light. He sighed and rolled his tired shoulders - tired from the long, long train ride from Chicago - and hurried up the stairs, glad to be home.

He opened the door and set his bag down in the vestibule, shaking the snow off his hat and coat before hanging them up. "Hey!" he called as he went on into the unusually quiet house. It was past the kid's bedtime, true, but he would have thought one member of the household would be around to meet him. Maybe Toby hadn't gotten the telegram? "Anybody home?"

"Up here."

Chris tilted his head back to see Toby at the upstairs railing, wearing a dark red, silk robe - and apparently not much else. At least when Toby let the robe part for a moment all Chris saw was a flash of long, bare legs. "I guess you did get my telegram."

"I guess I did - and call next time, huh? Because I just about had a heart-attack when I saw that kid at the door."

"Sorry." Chris shrugged, guessing he hadn't quite thought that through. "I thought you'd worry less."

"Oh, yes. `Train derailment outside Cleveland. Stop. May be delayed. Stop.' Very likely to set my mind at ease," Toby said with a sniff. "You're all right?" he said, leaning over the railing to look him over.

"Yeah. It wasn't my train got derailed - some freight train went off the tracks and backed things up."

"Which you could have told me if you had picked up the telephone."

Chris gave him a sheepish look and shrugged again. "It won't happen again."

"Better not."

Chris nodded, sighed, and looked around again. "So - the kids....?"

"Are with Gen for the night."

They were really going to have to get Genevieve something nice when her birthday rolled around.

"So," Toby said, "are you coming?"

Chris smiled and started up the stairs. "No - but I'm guessing you're planning on taking care of that."

"Smart boy," Toby said, smiling back as Chris got close enough to be reeled in for a kiss.

Opening his mouth to Toby's tongue, Chris ran one hand down Toby's back and over his ass, confirming that he was indeed naked as a jaybird under the robe. He smiled and pressed his cheek to Toby's, tickled by that. "What's the occasion?"

"You're home safe and sound," Toby murmured, kissing his lips again. "There's that."

"And is there something else?" Chris murmured back, pushing the robe off one shoulder so he could kiss Toby there.

"Well, it is the fourteenth of February."

"It is, huh?" He thought he must have lost track of a couple days there.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Toby said, scratching his fingers through Chris' short hair as they kissed again. "You know, unless you would rather I run out and buy you a box of chocolates."

"Uh," Chris looked at him standing there in that robe and nothing more, and shook his head, "that would be no. They're not nearly as edible as you," he whispered, nibbling Toby's earlobe to demonstrate. He sighed with a deep satisfaction then, wrapping his arms tight around Toby, one hand buried in his hair.

Toby hugged him back. "Good to be home?"

"Oh yeah," Chris said with feeling. "That was the longest week of my life."

"For me, too." Toby stepped back to look at him, touch his face. "Don't go away again."

Chris smiled fondly at his serious expression and nodded. "I'll try not to."

Satisfied with that, Toby reached for Chris' hand, thumb rubbing over the ring that matched his own. "If you're interested, I know where you can find a nice warm bed," he said, tugging him along.

"Shouldn't I unpack first?"


"I might have brought you something."

"Keller, trust me," Toby slipped a hand down to cup his crotch, "the only I want isn't in your suitcase."

Chris laughed and followed along.

He had splurged on a fairly ritzy hotel room in Chicago, but its impersonal luxury had nothing on the warm coziness of this room - right down to the bed turned down and waiting and the fire blazing away. He stood in front of the fireplace, and smiled at the trio of handmade Valentine's lined up in a row on the mantel, all from the kids to their dad.

"Those are yours," Toby said, pointing at a tidy stack of three sealed envelopes. He stood behind Chris, arms looped around his waist and nuzzled his hair. "How was Chicago?"

"Cold. I don't think it got above freezing the whole week." He shivered at the memory. "I swear, I'd step out of the hotel and thought I could feel my eyeballs freezing."

"Aww," Toby crooned and kissed the back of his neck, "poor baby. Feeling better now?"

"Umm hmm." Chris sighed, loving the warmth that seeped into him from the fire and from Toby's body pressed against him, Toby's hands stroking him, holding him. Even the falling snow outside couldn't dispel that feeling. "Got some good material."

"Yeah? What a hardship," Toby squeezed his waist, "hanging out in bars, listening to music, chatting people up."

"Yeah, took a lot out of me."

Toby laughed. "So who'd you get to see?"

"Lotta guys. Big Bill Broonzy, for one - saw him at Carnegie Hall in `Thirty-eight, and got to know him a little then, so that gave me an in."

"Yeah," Toby's hands were busy loosening his tie and opening his collar, "because otherwise they would mistake you for some country bumpkin who fell off the turnip truck." He stroked his fingers along Chris' throat, back and forth over the hollow. "Think it'll make a good story, Chicago blues?"

"Umm hmm. It's about life, that always makes a good story."

"You'll have to educate me about the blues one of these days."

"Be glad to," Chris said, turning to face him. "You'll love it."


"Yeah." Chris put his hands on Toby's hips, swaying him ever so slowly to some imagined beat in his head. "It's the kinda music you feel way down deep," he rumbled against Toby's ear.

"How deep?" Toby gasped as Chris slipped a hand around his back and pulled him closer, groins bumping together.

"Real deep," he purred, squeezing Toby's ass. "Want me to go put some records on?"

"Maybe later." Toby put his arms around Chris, pressing full-length against him and groaning. "Damn you feel good."

Chris stepped back to look at him, drink in the sight of him. "Christ, I missed you, Toby," he breathed out on a sigh as he trailed his fingers along Toby's face, across his lips. "I missed the sound of your voice, and the taste of your skin," he bent his head and kissed his throat, licking the warm flesh for a moment. "I missed your mouth," he said, cupping his hands around Toby's face and kissing his lips, pushing his tongue inside. "I missed your hands," he caught one, pressing a kiss to the palm, "and your big, beautiful cock," he undid the tie of Toby's robe so he could take that very cock in his hand and give it a long, slow stroke, kissing his mouth all the while. "I missed touching you and feeling your hands on me, Toby. Everything," he cradled Toby's head again, raining kisses on his face, his mouth, his throat, "every goddamn thing about you." Finished, he wrapped his arms around him and never wanting to let go.

Toby gave a happy-sounding huff at last, holding on just as tight, and said, "Yeah, me, too."

Chris chuckled, pretty sure he'd get over being speechless soon enough.

Oh, yes, this was much better. Toby was thinking that as he tugged Chris' boxers down over his hips and along his legs, tossing them out of the way. Dreaming about Chris had helped keep some of the loneliness at bay but imagination could not compare to having the flesh and blood reality sprawled naked across their bed. He stood there at the foot of the four-poster for a time, just looking at him, visually tracing every line of muscle and ridge of bone. He knew every square inch of that body now - intimately; every scar and freckle, each line of those tattoos -- and it still had the power to make him tingle with anticipation. And he wanted to become reacquainted all over again.

Knowing he had his partner's undivided attention, he let the red robe slither to the floor and just stood there, letting Chris look his fill. After a bit, Chris rose up on his knees in a fluid, graceful motion, muscles flexing, and reached for him, catching Toby's hand.

"Come here."

Toby went, kneeling on the mattress with him, the flames of the fire warming them and casting shadows on their skin as they embraced and kissed, feasting on each other's mouth. He kissed his lover's throat as Chris threw his head back and offered it. He licked a path along each collarbone and dipped his head down to lap at one nipple, then the other, before pressing a soft kiss to that long-healed scar. Just holding Chris then, cheek pressed to the scar, Toby sighed and offered up a prayer that he really did have him home and safe.

"You okay?" Chris asked, sounding worried.

Toby looked at him and nodded. "I am now." He shrugged. "I ... just went a little nuts, because of the storm, because of the derailment."

Head cocked a bit, Chris touched his face, one corner of his mouth turned up with an understanding smile. "If I was laying dead somewhere I'd hardly be sending you telegrams, right?"

Toby gave him an exasperated look, but then shrugged helplessly. "So, I'm not very rational when I think you might be hurt or something. You going to make something of it?"

Chris laughed softly, loving him. "You've been reading the manuscript again, haven't you?" he said, looking over to confirm the box was on the nightstand.

"It's the next best thing to having you here." He shrugged again, suspecting dwelling on that fictionalized account of Chris' brush with death may have factored into him being excitable.

Chris sighed and stretched out on the bed, pulling Toby down with him and holding him. "Don't you have it all memorized word for word by now anyway?"

Toby frowned, stroking his arm. "Yes, but now I'm working on memorizing it comma for comma." He gave him a firm, `You got a problem with that?' look to back it up.

"Aren't there parts you like better?"

He ran his hand down Chris' side, resting it at his hip. "There are." There were sections he truly did have committed to memory, any passage that gave him some new understanding of the man he loved. "I especially like the part where Steve and Thaddeus make love."

Chris gave him an uncertain look at that. "Funny, I don't remember that part."

"No? I do. It starts right there at dinner when they're seated together and meet for the first time, and goes all the way through to the last page." He nodded to himself, knowing he was on very firm ground here.

"It does, huh?"

"Umm hmm." Toby leaned over him, elbows resting on the broad chest. "All anyone has to do is read between the lines."

"Yeah, `cause them kissing on deck in the moonlight - that wouldn't give anything away."

Yes, he liked that part a lot, too. "What do you suppose happened after that kiss?"

"Hmm ... I don't know. Tell me what you think."

"I think they probably went back to Steve's stateroom--"

"Not Thad's?"

"No. There might be some reminder of his failed marriage there, photographs and stuff. Besides, I bet Thad would be hoping Steve might be inspired to write something and that he might be allowed to watch him."

"Yeah, because watching someone write is the most incredibly exciting thing in the world," Chris said, self-deprecation drenching his tone.

"Hmph. Don't knock it `til you've been on the other side, bub."

Chris laughed, growing serious again the next moment. "Yeah," he reached to trace his fingers along Toby's cheek, "watching you light up a courtroom's not exactly a hardship."

Toby nodded, glad he understood the attraction of watching someone you loved in their element, in command of it and loving it. "Anyway..."

"Anyway." Chris stroked his hair, watching him. "Then what happens?"

"Then... They're all alone and they kiss some more--"

"Maybe some clothing is loosened or removed?"

"Yes, removed, and they tumble down to the mattress, all tangled up--"

Chris shook his head, still smiling. "Why do I get the feeling you've been giving this a lot of thought?"

"I needed something to do while you were gone."

"And you spent it thinking about the rest of Steve and Thad's story?" Chris ran his hands along Toby's shoulders, caressing his collarbones.

"Well," Toby said slowly, enjoying that lazy touch, "I might have spent some of it thinking about us on a cruise somewhere--"

"Somewhere warm?"

"Somewhere warm, yes, with a stretch of beach all to ourselves."

"Yeah?" Chris gave him a thoughtful, appreciative look. "So we could be ... naked? Naked - and swimming, making love on the beach? Like that?" he finished, voice dropped to an especially seductive register, fingertips dancing along Toby's spine and making him shiver.

"Like that. Sound good?"

Chris ran his hands up Toby's back and buried them in his hair as he brought him down for a kiss. "Oh," he rumbled against his lips, "fuck yeah it does." He kissed Toby again, slowly, like he needed to relearn the taste of him. "Tell me," he murmured, looking into his eyes. "Tell me what happens on the beach."

Toby caught his breath, thrown by that request but eager to fill it. He shifted over, stretched out on his back, and reached to pull Chris over him, raising his knees and groaning as Chris settled between his parted legs. "The sky's clear, the water's warm," he said, finding it a bit tricky to concentrate on make believe when reality was laying between his thighs and kissing his throat. "I've just...oh boy... I've just come out of the little bungalow we've rented, right on the beach. I've got a blanket and I'm spreading it on the sand--"

"Are you naked?" Chris said, nibbling his throat, kissing his lips.

"No, ahhhh...not yet. I've got a shirt on, and...and," he swallowed as Chris stroked his face and kissed the corner of his mouth, his temple, an eyelid, "and a pair of shorts..." He sighed, trying to concentrate. "I'm looking out to sea, looking for you--"

"I'm swimming?" Chris spoke it against his ear, licking him there; his tongue tracing every ridge and dipping inside for an instant.

Toby was glad his eyes were closed because he'd bet they would be crossed otherwise. "Yeah," he managed to go on after another moment. "You're in the water, and I watch as you stand up, water dripping down your body--"

"Bet I'm naked," Chris purred, a smug smile in his voice.

"Oh yes," Toby gripped his shoulders, kneading them, "you fucking are, and you look so beautiful, Chris, with the sun making your wet skin gleam. I just stand there for a minute, watching as you walk towards me," and Christ he loved to watch Chris move, the confidence he exuded with every swaggering step. He ran his hands over Chris' back, feeling those muscles flex and bunch beneath his fingers, feeling all that power caught between his legs. "You know I'm watching you, you know I love to watch you--"

"Don't sell yourself short, baby." Chris was looking in his face again, stroking his hair. "I'd pay money to watch you walk out of the water without a stitch on."

Toby smiled up at him. "I know," he went on, growing serious again. "I know that on the beach, the way you look at me, how you look hungry for me." He rubbed his hands over Chris' chest, the fine hairs tickling the pads of his fingers. "I know you want me." He looked into those deep blue eyes and saw the truth of that, as naked as their bodies.

Chris nodded and lowered his head, lips closing around a nipple and sucking, lashing it with his tongue as Toby moaned and bumped his hips, pulling at Chris' hair. "Bet I want you naked," he said, his breath caressing the nipple.

"Yes." Toby gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, shivering as Chris worked a hand between his thighs to cup his balls, fondle them. "You want me...oh jesus...naked..." He tried to catch his breath as Chris' hand moved, gliding along the shaft of his cock, thumb moving back and forth over the wet slit. "Naked, and on my back, like this," he finished, arching into him. One arm looped around Chris' shoulders, Toby pulled him down, frantically whispering, "Fuck me, Chris - now, right now."

"Yes." Chris kissed his lips, tongue filling his mouth and tasting him, sliding against his own. "Yes," he whispered, just as desperate for it.

Toby raised his knees higher, feeling desired and safe, never exposed. Trembling with need, with the sharp pleasure of each touch, he had to roll his head on the pillow for a moment, looking away as Chris bent and swallowed his cock, sucking him. He looked back the next second, reaching to stroke Chris' head, pressing his head back into the pillow, throat exposed as Chris' head went lower, as he felt his lover's tongue lapping at his anus. He cried out, loud, as Chris' fingers, slick with lube, entered him and opened him. "Ohhhhh... jesus fucking christ...Chrissssssss..."

He felt the breathless laugh against his skin of his belly more than heard it. And then he heard Chris' gasp and felt him tremble as his partner eased inside him. "Oh God, Toby," Chris whispered against his cheek, "you feel so fucking good."

And Toby would have said it didn't feel so bad from his end of things, either, except he couldn't seem to get words to form anymore. All he could concentrate on was each hard, deep thrust inside in his body. The only thing that mattered was moving with that wonderful rhythm as each delicious jolt of pleasure curled its way through his body. He couldn't process anything but the feel of Chris' body, so hard and hot under his hands, both of them slick with sweat. Nothing filled his ears except their groans and whimpers as they fucked there in their bed, the world narrowed down to only that expanse of soft white sheets.

Chris stretched over him, fucking him, kissing his face, gripping his hands and pressing them back into the pillows, pumping into him. "Toby... Toby..."

He moved his head, needing Chris' mouth, untangling their hands so he could run his own down Chris' back, fingers digging into the muscle, gripping that beautiful ass as they fucked. His head thrashed on the pillow as Chris reached between their bellies to grasp his cock, stroking him, making him come.

"C'mon, baby," Chris murmured, low and throaty, needing it. "Give it to me, come for me."

"Yes ... yes..." He groaned and shuddered with it, his orgasm spilling over Chris' fingers as his lover came inside him, both of them trembling, gasping with it.

"Ohhhh..." Panting, Chris buried his face against Toby's throat as he finished, as the sensation slowly, slowly ebbed away. "God, I love you, Toby," he gasped out, breathless, sprawling against him in exhausted delight.

Toby nodded, stroking his wet hair and skin. "Love you, Chris." He drew in another shaky breath. "Welcome home."

Chris raised his head to look at him, smile at him and nod before resting against him once more. "Happy," he paused, sucked in more air, "happy Valentine's Day, baby."

He smiled, holding him close, guessing this really did beat the hell out of a box of chocolates.

~~the end~~

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