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Small Favors (Chapter 7)
Title: Small Favors (Chapter 7)
Fandom: Oz
Pairing: Beecher/Keller
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fontana and HBO = so not me
Summary: An AU based loosely on Billy Wilder’s The Apartment.
Notes: I skipped new SVU tonight to finish this chapter! I'm hardcore! *g* Also, I may or may not have made myself cry a little here. So, warning: unadulterated angsty sap ahead! Thanks as always to
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rhymephile for being a demanding beyotch, and to halfdutch for the constant support.Chapters 1-6
Toby slept fitfully through the night, jerking awake with every sigh and muffled groan that came from the bed. At one point he considered cupping his hand over Chris's nose to check for that small rush of air, but he always managed to talk himself back into sleep.
Daylight was beginning to filter in through the blinds when Toby finally got up from his makeshift bed and blinked wearily at the body tangled in his sheets. He couldn't help but notice Chris had pulled his pillow--the same one from the previous night--into his arms again. His lips were parted slightly in sleep and there was more color in his cheeks. It would almost be a perfectly normal sight of Chris asleep in the early morning hours...except it was Toby's bed he slept in.
And Toby didn't want him there.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes, desperate for some coffee. But as he flicked on the kitchen light it hit him--they'd used the last of the coffee the night before in the never-ending cycle to keep Chris conscious.
"Damn it." Toby propped his shoulder against the wall and debated his options. There was a store a block or two away; he'd be gone and back within a half hour if traffic was light. Then again, the snow had started during the night, and he could see the muted white flakes clinging to the windows.
He didn't want to leave Chris alone for that long; god only knew what he'd try to do once he was awake and realized his first attempt at suicide had failed. But Toby simply could not face the day--or Chris--without coffee. And the nearest Starbucks was even further away than the store.
So Toby swallowed his pride and once again headed down the hall to Dr. Franklin's door.
This time, his wife answered.
"Well, Beecher, you've been a busy boy, haven't you?" Lara Franklin stood in the doorway, dressed her white terry cloth bathrobe, and smirked. "Bradley told me all about it."
"Mrs. Franklin, I'm so very sorry about last night, really--"
"Save it." She was much more direct than her husband, and lacking in good will. "What is it this time, hmm? Bradley's still in bed, and that's where he's going to stay."
Toby flushed. "I...I was wondering if I could maybe, possibly, uh, borrow some coffee? You see, I don't want to leave Chris--"
"From what I hear, you were more than willing to leave him last night."
Christ. How much had the doctor really told her? "It was kind of a misunderstanding--"
"Whatever, I don't care." She waved her hand in his face and clicked her tongue. "I suppose you don't have any food in your house, either?"
"Um..." Toby did a quick mental inventory of his fridge and cabinets, and then flushed a deeper red.
"Bachelors. You're all the same." She shook her head in disgust. Toby felt like he'd shrunk to two feet tall. "Just go back home and I'll be over in a minute."
~~
She arrived ten minutes later, still in her bathrobe and carrying a cooler, which she promptly dumped on Toby's kitchen counter. She popped the lid open and tossed a small canister of Folgers at him.
"There's your coffee. Now, where's the patient?"
Toby gestured toward the bedroom. "He's in there, sleeping..."
Before he knew it, Mrs. Franklin was pulling out a plastic tray with collapsible legs and loading it up with a plate, silverware, and napkins. She unwrapped a toasted egg sandwich and set it neatly on the plate, then handed a plastic cup to Toby.
"Fill that up with ice water," she said before marching down the hallway with the tray in her arms.
He couldn't hear anything over the rush of the tap, but once he shut off the water he heard soft muffles coming from the bedroom. They were lost again in the grinding of the ice dispenser, and it suddenly seemed liked Toby couldn't back there fast enough.
And yet he hated the pounding of his heart as he came to the bedroom doorway; it hadn't started to beat in earnest until he'd heard the faint rumble of Chris's voice.
Chris was sitting up in bed, the pillows propped up behind him and Mrs. Franklin's tray of food sitting across his lap. He was still most naked save his boxers, but Mrs. Franklin acted as if she could care less. And she probably did.
"You need to eat, young man," she scolded gently. "I know for a fact that stomach of yours is empty, and that's not going to do you any good on the road to recovery." She was seated on the edge of the bed, right at Chris's hip, and as she tore off a bit of the sandwich and tried to feed it to him, Chris actually laughed, although the sound was rough and weak.
"Naw, I'm okay, really. Maybe my stomach can handle food, but my brain can't yet." He pushed her hand away and winced as he tried to shift positions. "I should probably be going--"
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere in your condition. My husband would have a coronary if he saw you up and running around, and he'd probably skin Beecher alive for letting you leave this bed. Not that I particularly mind what happens to Beecher, but you're a nice-looking guy, so I'm giving you both a break."
"Beecher..." He whispered it like it had just occurred to him exactly where he was, and it was at that moment Chris looked up and saw Toby standing in the doorway.
Toby managed a smile. "Hey."
Chris's hesitant smile in return looked full of hope and relief and embarrassment all at once. "Hey."
Mrs. Franklin sighed. "Now that I've remedied this situation as best I can, I'll leave you two alone." She stood up, pulled the belt of her robe more tightly around her middle, and glared at Toby. "I'll be expecting my dishes and cooler returned in one piece."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for--"
"Another time, Beecher." She waved her hand again in dismissal. "Another time."
They both watched her hustle out of the room, and Toby found himself almost wishing she'd stay, because without her presence, there was nothing but Chris and the deep thudding of his own heart.
~~
"You gonna eat that?" It was the only thing he could think to say; Chris was staring patiently at him, waiting for him to make the first goddamn move. Like this was all Toby's fault or something.
"Nope." He held up his hands. "You're welcome to it, though."
"Not hungry. But thanks." The smell of coffee was drifting in from the kitchen, and as Toby gathered up the tray of untouched food, he wondered if he could drink it straight from the pot. Maybe shut the bedroom door and pretend the entire night--hell, the entire last two months--had never happened.
He was pouring himself the largest mug he could find when he heard a loud grunt from down the hallway, and the coffee was forgotten for the moment. He found Chris struggling to get out of bed, wincing and cursing with every move of his body.
"Whoa, take it easy. What's wrong?" He barely realized how quickly he made it to Chris's side, how easy it was for him to press his hand against Chris's bare shoulder to ease back into the pillows.
"Nothin's wrong, I just wanna make it to the goddamn bathroom without feeling like I'm gonna die, 's all." His voice had the vague sound of one slightly drunk. The words were slow, drawled out in Chris's own unique rough-soft tone. He kept licking his lips, and Toby looked away.
"Here." Toby went to the closet and dug out an old navy blue flannel robe of his that was faded and soft. "Let's get you into this, and then I'll help you over, okay?"
Chris gave another low grunt, but Toby didn't leave him a choice; he pulled Chris up by the arm and made him shrug into the robe, and then it was like the night before all over again. Toby hauled him to his feet and Chris's warm, solid weight was pressed against his side, his arm slung tight around Toby's neck. But he was more than conscious this time, and there was more effort on Chris's part to take each step. Toby felt the tension in his body, and he wondered how much Chris remembered of last night.
"Can I brush my teeth?" Chris asked, giving a small chagrined smile as he braced himself against the sink, his palms spread wide on the marble counter.
"Yeah, sure." Toby rummaged through the medicine cabinet on the opposite wall. He found a spare toothbrush, and he was in process of opening the box when his gaze landed on a couple prescription bottles sitting on the bottom shelf. Along his cartridge of disposable razor heads.
He grabbed all three and tucked them behind his back as he handed the toothbrush to Chris. He wasn't taking any chances.
"I made coffee," he said dumbly.
"Yeah, I can smell it."
"You, uh, want some? Or I could, I don't know, make you some tea, I guess..."
Chris snorted around a mouthful of toothpaste. He spit in the sink and smirked at Toby in the mirror. "Tea, Toby? Seriously?"
Toby huffed and felt his cheeks start to blush. "It was just an offer. Thought it would be easier on your stomach..."
"I'm just playin' with you, Tobe." Chris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned around and carefully took a step toward Toby. He said, very softly, "But I guess I'm starting from scratch again, huh?"
It was too early in the morning for Toby to deal with anything concerning...well, them. He couldn't possibly begin to know how to answer Chris, so he ignored the question completely. "Do you need help back to the bed?"
If Chris was disappointed, he didn't let it show. "No, I think I can make it. I'll take the coffee, though."
~~
Toby didn't even ask if Chris took his coffee black. It didn't matter anyway; there wasn't cream or sugar in the house, and Toby wasn't about to go back to Mrs. Franklin again.
He didn't want to talk, either. There were dozens of questions flitting through his mind, but he could feel them sitting on the edge of his anger, his humiliation. Toby knew he couldn't ask questions without being defensive, or worse, accusing Chris of things that would only embarrass Toby further.
He wanted answers, and yet ignorance, at times, could be bliss.
So in the end, he decided to distract them both. Toby handed Chris his mug and said, as neutrally as possible, "Wanna play some chess?"
Chris, tucked back into bed and looking exhausted, frowned at him. "Chess?"
"Yeah, you know, like checkers for smart people?" He cleared off the nightstand by the bed and began setting up his grandfather's old board--solid oak with real ivory pieces he'd brought back from Europe. The board was slightly dusty; Toby hadn't played in years. He pulled the small arm chair in the corner of the room over to the side of the bed and sat facing Chris, the chess board at his right elbow.
"I know what chess is, Beecher. I'm just..." Chris looked down into his mug and sighed.
Toby waited for it, the moment when he apologized for everything, or maybe confessed his sins. Instead, Chris added, "I'm just not a very good player."
He wouldn't be disappointed, he wouldn't. He didn't want any damned apology. "I highly doubt that. Besides, I haven't played in forever, so we're evenly matched."
"I doubt that," Chris mumbled, his eyes never leaving the movement of Toby's hands as he finished with the pieces.
Toby let Chris make the first move, and it was clear from the start that Chris's heart wasn't going to be in it at all. He nudged his players with the back of his fingers, never lifting them, and when Toby beat him within ten minutes, Chris dropped his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes .
"Best two out of three, c'mon." Toby made a show out of rearranging the pieces back into place even as his heart started to pound a little harder, because he knew Chris was about to say something he didn't want to hear.
"Aren't you gonna ask me about last night?" Chris's voice was slightly muffled where his face was half buried in the pillow.
He sat still for a long moment and idly ran his thumb over the horse's muzzle of his black knight. Chris didn't repeat the question; once again, there was nothing but the two of them and silence.
Finally, Toby swallowed and said, "It's none of my business," which was such bullshit. Every bit of it was his business, but he couldn't bear to hear the dirty details, especially the part where he let himself fall for Chris so easily and Chris felt too much pity and shame to stop him.
"You found me last night--here, passed out cold in your bed. I think that deserves some kinda fuckin' explanation, don't you think?" His voice was still weak, but Toby could still hear an edge to it.
He flinched and picked up the knight, staring down at his hands as he rolled it back and forth between his palms. "No, I don't."
"Toby...Tobe..." Chris sat up slowly, his arms braced on the mattress. "None of this is your fault, okay?"
"Oh well, thanks for clearing that up!" His anger was sudden, shocking them both. "Because here I was thinking you were fucking my boss due to some indiscretion on my part." He stood up quickly, shoving his chair back.
"Fuck, Tob--"
"No, just shut up." He could feel the knight digging into his palm where his hand clenched around it. "You have no idea what it's like for me, none."
"I--"
"For months now I was okay with the idea of people using me, because I'd convinced myself that I was using them in return. It was a give and take arrangement. Except with you." His hands were shaking, just little; he was saying too much. He stopped pacing at the dresser facing the bed and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest and letting the knight dangle from his fingers. He was still only wearing his sweats and a worn gray t-shirt, and the air in the bedroom was chilly. Toby hugged himself out of necessity, and whispered, "You were real."
"I wanted to tell you...god, I did, I fuckin' swear it, I just..." Chris rubbed his hand over his face, looking more exhausted and miserable with each second.
"You just what? Didn't want to ruin the fantasy?"
"Yeah, 'cause that's why I raided your medicine cabinet and did about fifty chasers of Seagram's--the fantasy is just too damn wonderful." For a moment it seemed like all his strength had returned, that his frustration had allowed his voice to return to normal. But then Chris groaned and rolled to his side, his back to Toby, and the sound was so painful and sad, Toby felt the heat of anger start to drain from his body.
"I'm sorry I dragged you into this, Toby." He barely heard the words; he stepped toward the bed, close enough to lean over the side, to take in the outline of Chris's curled body beneath the blankets. A moment later he heard, so very quiet: "I'm sorry for everything."
Then Chris faded into sleep. Gradually Toby sunk down onto the edge of the mattress and sat there for what felt like hours, never quite touching him and never quite bringing himself to hate him.
~~
Chris woke several hours later, and Toby was back in his chair beside the bed, his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped between them. He waited for the haze to clear from Chris's eyes and said slowly, "I'm ready for my explanation."
Chris nodded, like he knew the sleep he'd just had was what they both needed to get to this point. "Want the whole thing, or just the Cliff's Notes?"
And Toby genuinely smiled for the first time that day. "Whatever you want to give me."
"It's not a real long story." He pushed himself up in a sitting position, his back against the headboard, buffered with pillows. He still clung to one in particular, the one Toby had found him with--Toby's pillow. It was tucked up under his arm, like a loving pet snuggled in for the night.
"I got this buddy, Ronnie. We went to high school together, go into tons of shit, stuff like that. Always had each other's back. Anyway, Ronnie comes to me a few years ago and says he's got this cousin who's tryin' to sell his bar, and he's gonna give it to Ronnie for a decent price. But seeing as how Ronnie didn't have all the cash at the time, he asked me to be his partner."
"So you went for it?"
"Yeah, although I didn't have my share of the deposit, either, just a couple grand and some change. But Ronnie's cousin signs it over to us anyway, and we're in business. Except two months later, Ronnie skips town."
"And you were left with the mortgage and the bills."
Chris smiled weakly. "Bingo."
"Is this where Ellie comes in?" Toby felt his gut twist; god, he hated saying her name in front of him.
"I was working a double shift one night and she came on to me, told me she was this big-time attorney and wanted some 'spice' in her life. We went out the next night, got drunk, and I ended up in bed with her, tellin' her my whole goddamn life story."
Toby didn't know what was worse; knowing that Ellie had had Chris, or hearing it straight from Chris himself.
"She said she'd help me out with the bar, get the collection agencies off my back, the mortgage caught up, everything. She offered me everything..."
If you'd just be her whore. Toby hadn't been the only one she'd used.
"How long has this been going on?" he asked, not looking Chris in the eyes.
Chris shrugged. "A year or so, I guess. I tried to end it last night. She said no."
"Is...that all she said?" He knew Ellie; "no" was never simply "no".
"Well, there was that whole thing with the fake rape charges and sending me back to prison, but other than that, nope." Chris tried to smirk, but Toby caught the small wince.
He didn't even care about the back to prison part--they'd cover that eventually, and it wasn't important right now. Toby somehow knew Chris would tell him when he was ready, and that was enough for him.
"You could've..." He tried to find the words, something to convince Chris that taking his life wasn't going to solve shit in the end. But the situation was no better now than it had been the night before, and Toby didn't know how to fix it. "You could've come to me," he finally said, and he flushed at how earnest he sounded.
Chris cocked his head to one side, and there it was, that affectionate little crooked smile Toby thought he'd never want to see again. His lips parted slightly, showing off a hint of teeth, and he shook his head. "Aw, Tobe. It took a near death experience for me to get the balls to tell you all this now--you really think I'd've told you over drinks in your office?"
Of course, he was completely right. But it didn't make Toby's sentiment any less true.
"You don't have to die, Chris." It was a silly, melodramatic thing to say. He didn't care.
Chris sat up slowly and drew his knees to his chest. He rested his cheek on his arm and said quietly, "I like hearing you say that." He was still smiling.
"It's true."
"Probably."
"No fucking 'probably', goddamn it. You don't have to let her own you like this, she can't just blackmail you and expect--"
It was strange how quickly it happened. Chris's movements had been slow, careful, as if he were moving through water, and yet, in the instant that followed, his body unfolded in one smooth, fluid motion that brought him into Toby's space and allowed his hand to curl around Toby's neck, sweep up into his hair, and pull him close. Before Toby could hardly register the initial touch, Chris kissed him, a gentle press of mouths that was warm and dry and so very, very soft. It lasted only a handful of seconds, long enough for Toby to lose his breath and his heart all over again, and when Chris pulled back and whispered, "I just like knowing you can still look at me like that," Toby had to swallow twice to find his voice.
"Like how?" Somehow his hands had found their way to Chris's shoulder and neck; he stroked the fine hairs that rested at the base of his skull, letting their foreheads press together, letting the moment be real.
"You know how. I look at you the same way." He nuzzled his lips against the rough stubble Toby had never bothered to shave. His mouth moved along Toby's jaw in small, faint kisses, and he stopped right below his ear, saying, "I don't care about Ellie, okay? It doesn't matter."
It did matter--it mattered a lot. But they'd figure something out, Toby was certain of it. And that would come later, when his heart wasn't about to explode and his brain wasn't melting and Chris wasn't gradually fading back into sleep. Toby could feel Chris's body going limp under his hands; he sighed deeply against Toby's ear, making him shiver.
"It'll wait until morning," Toby said as he eased Chris back into bed, letting his thumb trace a light swipe over Chris's bottom lip.
"Morning." Chris smiled and yawned, his eyes already closed. "Yeah."
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that was great...i really love the interaction between Toby and his nieghbors...that will never cease to be funny...and now a nice interaction between our two favorite people...now that is great!
More soon please!
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Ah yeah
Re: Ah yeah
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It lasted only a handful of seconds, long enough for Toby to lose his breath and his heart all over again
Awwww...
Loving it and looking forward to more.
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Thanks a bunch, I'm glad you're enjoying it!
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"I just like knowing you can still look at me like that," Toby had to swallow twice to find his voice.
"Like how?" Somehow his hands had found their way to Chris's shoulder and neck; he stroked the fine hairs that rested at the base of his skull, letting their foreheads press together, letting the moment be real.
"You know how. I look at you the same way." He nuzzled his lips against the rough stubble Toby had never bothered to shave. His mouth moved along Toby's jaw in small, faint kisses,...
Marvelous emotions, sensations.
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Now I have to go work. *sigh* I'll be back later, bitca.
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Okay, first, I'm going to go all writery before I go fangirly. I really liked this installment, because it didn't feel rushed. The pacing was right as Toby dealt with the ups and downs and his emotions, and the slow, methodical way it's written brings a lot to the chapter. Toby is treading carefully here, Chris is embarrassed and hurt and confused, and I think it was all put together perfectly.
Now, SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeee, FINALLY!!! I'm glad to see he's awake. *snerk*
Also, I hate you for this because I wanna steal it:
Chris's hesitant smile in return looked full of hope and relief and embarrassment all at once.
I just remembered today we have that lyrics challenge coming up. I gotta get thinking about that now that I'm in a good mood.
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The pacing was right as Toby dealt with the ups and downs and his emotions, and the slow, methodical way it's written brings a lot to the chapter.
Thank you SO much for saying that; I was a little worried that the sudden shifts in emotion would seem too abrupt. I'm glad you thought differently, and that the angst was to your liking.
Dude, Lyrical Spring fics are due on April 20th. I expect results!
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I loved the way Toby's anger and humiliation gave way to concern and tenderness.
Also the Keller-cat-like speed and gracefulness he moved with, to kiss Toby.
Chris continuing to hold Toby's pillow in is sleep is so awww...!
Beautiful, sensitive writing.
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Ellie is even more awful than Shelldrake ever was; at least Fred MacMurray didn't threaten to frame Shirley MacLaine and get her sent to prison. She will get some kind of comeuppance, right?
More importantly, the first kiss was lovely, and just right, and I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
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*loves*
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Thanks for stickin' with me, babe. ♥
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I really loved it! Poor Chris :( Him sleeping holding Toby's pillow is sooo sweet.
I can't wait to see what happens next when Chris wakes up again! I hope there will be more kissing ... Can't get enough of that!
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