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This is set in the Domestic Incidents 'verse, of which "Let's Give Them Something to Talk About" is the main story.
Let's Hear It For the Boy
by Riley Cannon
Title: Let's Hear It for the Boy
Series: Domestic Incidents
Author: Riley Cannon
Subject: B/K, extreme AU; rated NC-17
Disclaimers/warnings: Tom Fontana and HBO own them, I only borrow them for purposes of non-profit fun.
Note: The QAF episode referenced here is #6 or 7, from S2; the last one I got to see.
Let's Hear It for the Boy
~a Domestic Incidents fic~
Chris pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine, already feeling a million times better as he saw the warm light spilling from the windows. It was always good to come home, but days like this one - yeah, knowing he could leave it all behind when he got home to Toby and the kids was about all that got him through it. He got out of the car and locked it, no inclination at all to dawdle on the way to the door. He missed hearing the kids carrying on as he let himself in, no one running to greet him, but he couldn't say having Toby all to himself for a couple more nights was a bad thing.
He smiled at him over in the family room, already changed into jeans and a blue t-shirt, barefoot and sitting cross-legged on the couch watching television, and that sight all by itself was about the best thing Chris could imagine coming home to. He made a quick detour to the kitchen to snag a bottle of ice tea, twisted the cap off and took a long swig from it as he went back to Toby, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss his neck. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," Toby said, turning to him with a smile and reaching up to cup the back of his neck and kiss his chin.
Chris returned the smile, this long day truly starting to drain away, and went around to slouch down beside him on the big, comfortable couch, no complaints when he put his feet up on the table. No, Toby only reached for him, tugging him closer so his head could rest on one of those broad shoulders. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Chris rested there, letting his eyes drift shut, wanting to be nowhere else in the world.
"Long day?" Toby said, stroking his hair.
"Want to talk about it?"
He sighed again, thinking about it. "Not right this minute."
"Hungry? Aunt Ro sent me home with enough to feed an army."
He chuckled. "Think she or our moms are ever gonna believe we can actually feed ourselves?"
"Do we want them to?"
He laughed again, making himself even more comfortable. "That's a point. I'll get something in a little bit."
This, just sitting there with Toby, was all the nourishment he needed right at the moment and he let himself doze lightly, letting go of the day. After a bit other things did begin to impinge on his awareness - like the way his stomach was beginning to growl, and how good Toby smelled...and the TV. He cracked an eye open to confirm what his lover was watching, and groaned. "What're you watching that for?"
"Umm...because I like it?" Toby replied as Chris finally detached from him and sat up.
And there was no accounting for taste, and he had vowed for better or worse, but still... Chris leaned over to pick up the DVD Queer As Folk box set from the coffee table, shaking his head over it. "They made a second season?"
"Three - fourth one on the way."
He shook his head again and put the box down. "You know that's crap, right?"
Toby gave him a very clear, exactly what is your problem, look at that. "You've seen how many episodes?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, one or two."
"So maybe the opinion of someone who has seen quite a bit more than one or two episodes is slightly more valid, hmm?"
Toby said it light enough, like he was teasing more than anything, but because of the day he'd had, because of he didn't even know what, Chris couldn't quite take it that way. "Fine," he got up from the couch, grumbling, "watch your shallow pretty boys all you want. I'm gonna change."
"Great, see if you can find a new attitude while you're at it," Toby snarked back as Chris headed for the stairs.
He stopped on the first step, turning back to look at him. "Excuse me?" He went back over to him, frowning. "You got a problem with my attitude?"
"Oh, no, never. Christ knows I never want to do anything on Monday nights except watch fucking football."
"I don't recall forcing you to sit there at gunpoint," Chris shot back, knowing this was ridiculous and they should stop now, but he couldn't seem to put the brakes on.
"Yeah, because I figure it won't kill me to try and enjoy something you like."
"Oh, well, you're just Mr. Perfect, aren't you? Sorry you feel so fucking put upon," Chris said, hearing the bitterness in his voice, hating it, desperate for them both to shut up now. Before either of them could say anything more, he turned and beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Christ, what the hell was the matter with him, getting bent out of shape over a goddamned television show? He ran his hands up over his face, back over his head and shook it, letting out a deep breath. It was this fucked up day taking a toll, that was all. Toby'd understand, everything was fine. Just grab a shower, change, and go back downstairs and try not to be a jerk. Couldn't be that hard, right?
God, he just wanted this day over.
Toby still had the television going as Chris came back down, changed into jeans and a tank top, barefoot like Toby. Observing the mutual agreement to ignore each other just at the moment, Chris went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, checking out what Aunt Ro had provided this time. The ziti looked good, the chicken pizza, too, and he put generous portions of each on a plate and popped it in the microwave to nuke for a minute. While he was waiting for that, he dug into the ricotta cheesecake, hungrier than he'd realized all of a sudden.
When he had his plate ready, he hesitated, not sure his company would be welcome in the family room, but... After a pensive moment he carried his plate in there, sitting down at the other end of the couch, giving Toby plenty of space. Nor did Toby show any indication of wanting to close that distance just at the moment, shooting him one sideways glance before looking back at the television screen.
He tried to follow what was happening on screen, but since he didn't even know who the characters were that was somewhat problematic. The only thing he could think to say was that he remembered Sharon Gless looking a lot better than that, but somehow he doubted that would be regarded as a useful observation.
He cast around for something else, figuring something straightforward might be best. "Who is that?" he said.
"The older one's Brian," Toby said, his voice a lot chillier than Chris remembered hearing it in a long, long time, "the other one's Justin."
The other one was one of the problems he had, the kid barely looked legal. He let that go, however, and ventured a little more. "So what's going on?"
Toby slanted a look at him, grudging and suspicious. "Brian's telling him he loves him."
Yeah? Didn't sound like it to Chris, and before he could stop himself he said, "Huh, must've been in sign language `cause all I heard was something about them both fucking anyone who catches their eye - just no kissing."
"Yeah, well, that's some guy's definition of the perfect relationship," Toby said on a huff that sounded more pissed off than ever. "It's called escapist fantasy, for your information; no one said it was a goddamn documentary," he ground out, reaching for the remote and shutting everything off. "What the hell is your problem?" he demanded, turning to face Chris at last.
"Watch your damn show," Chris growled back, moving to get up.
"I'll watch my damn show when I want to," Toby caught his arm and held him there. "What's going on with you?"
"What -- I don't like some stupid show you do so there's gotta be something going on with me?" Chris said, hearing the defensiveness in his voice and barely knowing where it was coming from.
"This isn't about a goddamn show."
What was it about then? "Why do you like it?"
Toby gave him a baffled look then, shaking his head with another huff, exasperated this time. "I told you - it's escapist fantasy."
"Yeah? That the kind fantasy you want to escape to?" Chris said, looking away and suddenly putting his finger right on what was troubling him.
"O-kay, I'm calling Capt. Reimondo to find out exactly when you got smacked in the head today and how come no one told me about it."
The day flashed through his mind - Cisco Archuleta, aged 10, shot to death on the playground because he wouldn't give his skateboard to another kid; Mr. and Mrs. Salensky and their 3-year-old granddaughter, Sarah, part of the collateral damage when Marcie Holloway tried to ram her boyfriend's car and mowed down a sidewalk full of innocent bystanders instead; the beautiful girl, still no ID, butchered like a side of beef and left in an alley - and he wished to Christ it was all just a figment of his imagination. He didn't want to trade it for a fantasy, though. He only wanted the life he'd made with Toby, that was all he ever needed to get through those days.
What if that wasn't what Toby wanted anymore, though?
"All I'm saying is," he struggled to put it into words, "it makes sense you'd find that attractive, want that kind of freedom. You never really had that."
"Chris..." Toby scooted closer, looked at him closer. "Why would I want that?"
"Why wouldn't you?" Chris returned. "You married Gen right out of law school and she was barely out of your life when you met me. You never got to test the waters to see what you wanted."
"I didn't have to - I found that the moment I ran you down on my roller-blades," Toby said, looking serious and worried.
Toby stopped is lips. "You listen to me," he said, shaking him a little. "You listen," he repeated, looking right at him, "the last six years of my life, with you, is something I would not trade for anything," he shook him again to emphasize it. "And sure as hell not to be out trolling the clubs looking for a meaningless fuck with a stranger." He sighed, shook his head. "I love you, you fucked up nutbar. If you don't know that by now--"
Chris moved in, fast, and kissed him, wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. "I do, I do know that, Toby. I'm sorry. I..." He shook his head, words eluding him. "I just... It's been such a fucked up day, Toby, I just wanted to get home to you. That's all I've been thinking about, getting home to you."
Toby sat back, giving him a look so full of love and acceptance Chris wished he could punch himself for being an asshole. "And you couldn't have just said Toby turn off the TV and fuck me?"
Chris shrugged and looked down at the upholstery. "Guess I coulda done that."
"Yeah, I guess you coulda," Toby said, touching his face and leaning in to kiss his mouth. He sat back after a moment, taking Chris' hand and giving him another serious, troubled look. "But like I said, this isn't about what I'm watching on television," he said, searching his eyes.
Chris shook his head, pretty sure he didn't deserve Toby - but really glad providence had smiled on him anyway. "No, it's not about the TV."
"So," Toby touched his face again, "what happened today?"
Chris blew out a deep breath and slumped down again, not really wanting to rehash the day but knowing that was the only way to get rid of it. All these years with Toby had driven that point home. So he told him about getting called out to that alley before he and O'Reily even had their coats off, and they barely left that crime scene when dispatch reported shots fired at the playground. And that should have been enough, watching Cisco carted off in a body bag, having to arrest a kid no older than Gary and Holly, but nope, it was one more stupid, vicious thing after another, each one eating away at him a little more. Climaxing in the scene downtown, bodies everywhere, the dead including the Salensky's and their beautiful little granddaughter, and a crazy bitch carrying on that she was the victim and why didn't anyone feel sorry for her, and Chris had never hit a woman in his life but really thought he could have knocked her block off if O'Reily hadn't hustled him away.
"All I wanted was to get away and find you," he finished, tired all over again but glad to let it go. Toby holding him close and sharing it, that wasn't bad either. "Guess I can't blame you for wanting to escape."
Toby sighed and kissed his temple. "How about we escape together?"
"Sounds good." And he put up no resistance as Toby shifted them around so they were stretched out on the big couch. He smiled up into the face he loved so much, the face he'd needed to see so he could remember there was something good in the world. "I love you so goddamn much, Toby."
"Damn straight," Toby sniffed, making him laugh. "I love you like crazy, too, you know."
He did know that, he believed it completely. Days like this, he just needed to reassure himself what they had here was safe and sound. He sighed, hands rubbing along Toby's back, loving the feel of him. "You really hate watching football with me?" he asked, worried about it.
His answer was a grumpy huff, offset by the fond smile in pale blue eyes. "No, I do not hate watching football with you. I don't hate doing anything with you."
Yep, and that's why he'd made detective, because he could pick up on subtle clues like that. "Maybe I could watch that show with you."
"Maybe you could." Toby rubbed their noses together. "Might even give us some ideas."
And he didn't want to beat a dead horse, but "Do we need some new ideas?"
Toby kissed his mouth, lingering, slipping his tongue inside. "Baby," he raised up again, "we could hire out as technical advisors."
"So that's no?" He ran his hands up and down his lover's arm, caressing the smooth, toned muscle. "You don't want to trade me in for a younger, prettier model?"
"That would be no, to both. Keller," Toby settled between Chris' raised knees, "when you are eighty years old you will be the sexiest, most gorgeous thing on my block, and they will find us dead in bed together with smiles on our faces."
Chris laughed, long and deep, the rest of this lousy day truly ebbing away at last and leaving him where he'd started: loving Toby, wanting him like crazy. "So you think we can survive fighting over the TV?" He slipped his hands under Toby's t-shirt to stroke his back.
"Mmm, yeah, I think we can weather that one easy," Toby assured him and backed it up by lowering his head to Chris' chest, licking and sucking a nipple right through the thin white cotton.
Yeah - Chris buried one hand in Toby's hair to keep him there - it looked like all was right with their world. "This better than make believe?"
Toby nuzzled under his chin, licked him there and made him shiver. "Oh yes," he breathed against his ear, hot and hungry, "this is waaay better."
Chris rolled his head to give him more access, breath already rapid and shuddering as that devilish tongue explored his ear and throat. "And you...oh man...you wouldn't like to...go out more?"
No, home was good. Home was - Chris watched Toby raise up and strip off his t-shirt, reached up to run a hand over the smooth, hard flesh that was revealed - home was fucking great. It's where the heart was, right?
"All comfy?" Toby sat back, hands on Chris' knees.
Settled down on the cushions, looking up at him through a fringe of eyelashes, Chris nodded, knowing his smile was big and smug. "Pretty comfy, yep."
Toby ran his hands slowly down the inside of his thighs, to his crotch. "Still comfy?"
He arched up into that touch, rubbing against Toby's hand. He winked and grinned up at him. "Bring it on, baby."
Toby brought it, undoing the snap of Chris' jeans and pulling the zipper down just enough to ease his fingers inside, stroking through coarse pubic hair. One foot planted on the floor to get into a better position, Toby pushed Chris' shirt up his belly, over his pecs, and then lowered his head to explore the same path with his tongue. Eyes drifted half-closed again, Chris watched him, watched his lover's tongue circle his belly button and lick a lazy trail along to a nipple. He pressed his head into the couch arm, neck arched, pleasure sizzling through him as Toby licked and sucked one nipple, then the other. He groaned in protest as his lover's glorious mouth left him ... and sighed, long and deep as the lean body settled over him again, Toby's flesh against his, Toby's hands cradling his head as he lowered his mouth to Chris' to claim one kiss, two, a dozen, tongue darting along his lips and between them, fucking his mouth the way Chris wanted him to fuck his body, both of them panting and humping against each other.
"Oh, Christ, Toby..." Chris gasped, needing the air but not wanting to stop kissing him to get it.
"Shh, shh," Toby murmured, nuzzling his chin, dropping a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.
"You weren't kidding `bout the," Chris sucked in another breath, "the being found dead in bed part, were you?"
Toby flashed that smile Chris loved, full of love and impish mischief. "There's worse ways to go."
"Oh, fuck, yeah," Chris reached for his head, pulled his face to him again for another kiss, softer this time. He nuzzled against Toby's ear, telling him what he wanted, how he needed Toby to touch him, needed Toby's mouth on him, needed his mouth on Toby, how he needed that big, beautiful cock buried in him. "Love me, Toby," he whispered, arms wrapped around him, voice laden with that need. "Love me."
"Yes," Toby whispered back, kissing his eyes, his lips, touching his face as he drew back.
Chris tried to hold him there. "Don't go."
"Have to get us naked, baby."
Yes, yes they needed to be naked. He needed to feel Toby in his arms, against his body, nothing keeping them apart. And Toby never stopped touching him, knuckles brushing along his hips and legs as he dragged the jeans off and tossed them, fingers tickling under his arms as the tank was pulled off all the way - shivering under Chris' caress, long fingers stroking that flat belly as Toby got out of his own jeans, digging a packet from his pocket and holding it between his teeth as he settled down again.
Chris grinned and plucked it free, looking at the packet of lube, loving how he was always prepared. That kind of meticulous attention to detail deserved a reward, didn't it? "Come up here," he purred, smiling as he watched him move closer, closer, straddling his waist. "Closer," Chris repeated, grasping broad shoulders to bring him near, stretching to meet him, tongue circling one hard little nipple, then the other, feeling him shiver with the pleasure of it. He lashed a sensitive knot again, sucked it, breathed against his skin, "I want my mouth on your cock, Toby."
"Oh, Jesus..." Toby gasped, and moved again, knees digging into the couch to either side of Chris' head, body arched over him, hands clamped on the couch so the muscles stood out in his arms.
"You are so fucking sexy," Chris whispered, rubbing his belly, fingers curling around the cock he longed for, so turned on by Toby wanting him just as bad. He licked the underside, hands moving around to grip his ass, digging in as he sucked and licked, lapping up the pre-come oozing from the slit.
"We won't..." Toby tried to gasp out, "won't get far if...oh Jesus...if you keep...oh God...keep that...up..."
Oh, he definitely wanted to keep it up. He dragged his mouth off Toby, turned his head to plant a sloppy wet kiss on his thigh, biting lightly. "Fuck me, Toby," he shuddered with delicious pleasure as his lover moved again, sliding down over him, between his knees. "Send me to the goddamn moon, Toby," he whispered, wrapping his arms around him again.
Toby kissed him tenderly, kissed him hungrily, kissed his way down Chris' body, telling him how exciting it was, how good Chris tasted, how much Toby loved touching him. And Chris heard the words, felt the words, fingers threading through golden hair, gripping, as he watched his lover's tongue circle the head of his cock, watched Toby lick over the slit and savor the taste, watched Toby suck him like he needed that taste to live.
And if there was any world outside this cocoon of theirs, Chris didn't know about it, not now. All he knew was a sweaty tangle of limbs, hot, muscled flesh under his hands, the salt of Toby's sweat as Chris licked his throat. The only thing he felt was Toby buried deep inside him, thrusting hard, possessing him totally, Toby's hand stroking him, Toby's mouth devouring his. Words weren't needed now. Everything that needed to be said was carried in every groan, every gasp, Chris wrapped around him, arms and legs, moving with each glorious thrust, needing it harder, faster, getting it, crying out with it, spilling over Toby's hand as he felt his lover come inside him, the day washed away in that flood.
It was later and they were snuggled together on the couch, warm and relaxed, staying connected with light touches and kisses or just a look.
"Better now?" Toby said after a while.
"Umm hmm." Chris burrowed closer, never wanting to move. "I love you, Toby."
Toby kissed his forehead. "I love you."
And that was all Chris needed to know.
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