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 No beta-ing. Language. Even sex. Not mine, no money. More's the pity. 
Feedback always welcome.
  
  Family Reunion 9/? by Rosybug  

 IX.

 Chris woke up alone the day after Christmas. He knew he was alone even
before he got out of bed. Elliot's house had that unoccupied feeling.
Everything was way too quiet and most of the lights were off. But mainly
he just knew in a way he couldn't explain that Elliot wasn't home and had
been gone for some time. 

 Maybe it was a twin thing. Very gradually over the past six months he was
starting to find that his long-dormant "twin senses" were reviving. Maybe
it was just that he was a good reader of human nature and Elliot was a lot
like him or maybe it was that he really did have a bond with his brother
that transcended logic or common sense. A tiny part of Chris wanted to
believe the latter. He kept trying to stamp that out.

 He got out of bed and pulled on the bath robe that Elliot had given him
when he was in hospital. He had brought it with him to Elliot's house in
case Kathy or the kids were going to be around. He hadn't bargained on the
weather being so fucking freezing. His apartment had a great heating
system, but in comparison to Elliot's place, even Oz had been well heated.
He'd have to do something about the central heating sooner or later ...

 He walked out onto the landing and looked down into the rooms below. As
far as he could see no one was down there. Elliot's bedroom was too quiet
too. He went downstairs, wondering if Elliot had left a note. The kids had
said something about skating on an outdoor rink when he'd mentioned the
Miss Sally ice show to rile Elliot during Christmas dinner. Maybe Elliot
had taken them there. Without him.

 There was no note. Elliot could have gone out to get milk or the paper.
But he hadn't. He was off doing something else, Chris knew. He put some
coffee in the coffee machine and sat down at Elliot's kitchen table while
he waited for it to percolate. He'd felt something was off yesterday.
Elliot had seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts all day. He must be
taking the news that they were related to Russian mobsters pretty hard.
Knowing how seriously he took his job he must be wondering how this news
would affect it.

 Chris had been so wrapped up in his own anger after leaning the truth
about their father that he hadn't been able to spend more than a few
minutes on Elliot's concerns. When they'd got into the car at the park on
Christmas Eve, the closest he'd been able to get to thinking about it was
worrying that he'd now be forced to come clean about the extent of his
involvement with the Russian mob and that Elliot would want to put as much
distance between himself and Chris as possible. Other than his
relationship with Toby, his relationship with the Mob had been the cause
of the best and the worst experiences of his life. He knew Elliot would
never be able to cope with either end of the spectrum or anything between.

 He called Toby. No answer. No message either. Was he fucking with him
now? Chris thought they'd agreed that the phone call embargo was off. He
drank his coffee. Then he gave up and called Elliot. No answer either.
Fuck.

 Half an hour later, with still no return calls or messages from either of
them, Chris called again. And half an hour later again. By this time he
was brooding.

 He didn't want to call Kathy and raise the alarm. If he couldn't call
Kathy he couldn't call any of the children. He didn't know Elliot's
mother-in-law well enough to call her. He considered calling Bonnie and
getting her to call instead on false pretences, but decided to leave that
until he had no other card to play. 

 He flipped through channels on Elliot's TV. Christ, the guy needed a new
TV too. Chris had got used to his plasma screen. This TV was out of the
ark. What did they pay cops anyway? Not nearly enough. Crime definitely
paid better.

 Little by little his thoughts returned to the events of the twenty
fourth. It made him feel tired just going back there. Why had the Spook
never told him the truth? Everyone knew the man was cold as ice. All the
same Chris had always felt a kind of bond with him. Maybe the Spook
thought Chris'd failed him. Maybe that's why he never told him the truth.
Chris knew the Spook had disapproved of his drug use. He liked to blame
that on being made to help Junior with his nasty habits, but really he'd
started using before then. Back as a kid before Lardner even, he'd dabbled
in drugs. He didn't start seriously using until he went to prison though.

 That wasn't all the Spook had disapproved of. He hadn't been too keen on
Chris' sexual activities either. Back in the day the Spook had been the
brains behind the organization, although his elder brother - Chris' uncle
- had been the big boss. Big Daddy had relied on the Spook for smarts, for
connections, for business acumen. Big Daddy was no fool, but he wasn't on
the Spook's level and, unlike the Spook, he loved the more visible
attributes of power - living large, the money, the recognition, the
fawning staff, nice clothes, nice cars. The Spook liked the control. He
liked to know that he could make things go his way. He liked to work
behind the scenes. Chris liked that too. That's why he'd approached Chris
to do some private work for him in the early to mid nineties. Like father,
like fucking son.

 Chris' ruminations were interrupted by the doorbell buzzing. Wasn't
likely to be Elliot. Chris tossed his cell phone onto the coffee table,
next to his half-finished coffee, heaved himself off Elliot's couch and
went to answer it. 

 "Hey."

 Toby was standing in the doorway, bundled up in a dark winter coat and
light blue scarf and woolen hat. His breath made clouds as he breathed out
and he was rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth. Chris stared at
him.

 "Are you going to invite me in?" asked Toby, with a grin.

 Chris stepped forward, looked out into the snowy street and pulled Toby
inside. They kissed, wrapped in each other's arms for a very long time. "I
take it Elliot and the family are out?" said Toby, a bit breathlessly, as
they broke apart for air.

 "Yeah, they're..." Chris wondered what to say. He waved his hand vaguely.
"You're a little early, Toby. I wasn't expecting you back until the twenty
ninth. Everything okay?"

 "Yeah, everything's fine. Just thought I'd come back early and surprise
you."

 Toby stepped away to take off his hat, scarf and coat. He was wearing
jeans, a polo neck and one of his nerdy sweaters. Chris could have eaten
him alive.

 "I missed you, Toby," his voice was breathy as he put his arms around
Toby's wiry form again. This time he could feel much more of it. He felt
Toby's arms go around him too. He slipped his hand from Toby's waist to
between his legs.

 "I missed you too, Chris," whispered Toby into his good ear. "I've been
to the apartment trying to find you... doorman hadn't seen you in
days...hoped you be here... Christ..."

 "You went to the apartment?" Chris murmured, his hand continuing its
ministrations.

 Toby gasped.

 "What if they come home?"

 Chris grinned into Toby's neck, nipped him through the wool of his polo
neck.

 "Want to go upstairs?" he said. "Elliot's bed has got a great mattress."

 Toby hesitated. Chris paused too. Jesus, now what?

 "We're going to fuck in Elliot's bed?" said Toby doubtfully.

 Chris smiled his best, most dazzling, winning smile. It seemed to win
Toby over.

 "I'll be really popular if he catches us," was all he muttered.

 Yeah, thought Chris. Maybe Elliot'll finally get it. They hurried
upstairs, laughing, their shoes making too much noise on the stairs.

 "How was Martha's Vineyard?" asked Chris, pulling off his sweatshirt.

 "Great," said Toby, dropping his sweater. "Clean snow, beautiful homes,
Bessie's a great homemaker and Edward's been very good to us too."

 "How's your Mom?" Chris tugged off his sneakers.

 "Very happy, I think, at last," said Toby, yanking at his own footwear.
"She's staying on with Holly and Harry for a few days until after New
Year."

 He came to stand between Chris' legs, as Chris sat on the edge of the
bed, looking up at him.

 "How are you doing?" Toby asked him gently. "After we spoke yesterday, I
got to the mainland as soon as I could."

 Chris flopped back on the bed and looked up at him.

 "I don't know, Toby. I'm struck by the irony that I never knew until last
year that I was adopted and it turns out that I've been working for my
real father for years, while my brother, who's been looking for our family
for decades hasn't found him until now."

 "Where is Elliot anyway?" Toby knelt down between Chris' legs, put his
hands on Chris' thighs, stroked them.

 "He's out. Are you going to talk about him the whole time?" complained
Chris, propping himself up on his elbows so he could see Toby. 

 "I guess not," said Toby, edging Chris' sweats down over his hips. "Got
any lube?"

 "Goddamn it." Chris lay back on the bed. "No. I left it at the
apartment."

 "Shit," said Toby. "I was in such a hurry to get here I didn't think to
bring any."

 He got onto the bed too, crawled over to Elliot's bedside table and
opened the drawer. Chris watched him.

 "Elliot won't have any," he said.

 "We'll have to improvise. What about Kathy? Maybe she's got some lotion."

 Toby started making his way to the other side of the bed.

 Elliot's land line rang. As Chris picked up he realized he should just
have let the answering machine do it, for no other reason than Elliot
would have called him on his cell phone.

 "Hey," he said.

 "This is Cragen," said Elliot's captain. "Chris, I need to talk to you
about Elliot."

  Please send feedback to Rosybug.