16. 16

Chris had been living in Brendan's spare room for three weeks when Brendan marched in, his face determined. "Right, you need to get over this or get out."

"Seriously?" Chris asked and rolled over so he could look at him. He'd been lying on the couch watching… he wasn't sure what he was watching.

"Yes, seriously, you're bringing the vibe of the whole place down. Even Chanel is upset."

Chris glanced at Tegan's Macaw. She was sitting on her perch in the room, playing with some toy she was holding up to her beak with her right foot. She didn't seem upset.

"She doesn't seem upset," Chris replied.

"She's not talking as much," Brendan crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who's not talking?" Tegan asked as she came in from the kitchen. "You want some sem sav with dinner, Chris?"

"Chanel," Brendan told her, "and he's not getting wine with dinner unless he eats at the table."

"Fuck's sake," Chris groaned and rubbed his face.

"Chanel's fine," Tegan said. "Babe, can you make the salad?"

Chris listened to him swear, but he answered her, "Do you want a coleslaw as well?"

"That'd be awesome, thanks, Babe," she said and Chris listened to them kiss—a quick peck—before Brendan could be heard marching back out.

He felt Tegan move closer to him, felt her presence as she sat down in the armchair across from him.

"He doesn't want you to go," she said.

Chris made a sound to acknowledge he was listening.

"He's worried about you."

Chris dropped his hands and looked at her. "I know, and I'll be fine, I just."

"You just need some time, we get it," she smiled sadly at him and he hated that.

He sat up, rubbed his hands over his face. "I just," he looked at his bare feet on the floorboards. "I thought I was done, you know? I thought I had someone."

"Chris," she sighed. "I'm so—"

He stood. "I know, me too. I'm going to get some work done."

And he hightailed it out of there, said he'd eat later, and went into the room he was using. It'd be better if he could've gone back to his townhouse, but he'd rented it out when they bought the Brighton place. He could go to a hotel, was going to, but Brendan wouldn't hear of it.

But with time, he thought as he lay on top of the covers and closed his eyes, with time, he'd be fine.

Chris had resumed his spot on the couch and stayed there all that weekend. He had his laptop and phone, half-heartedly doing some work so Brendan wouldn't insist he go to the tennis with them, and he was pretending to focus while he listened to them getting ready to go.

There was a knock on the door. He didn't realise everyone was meeting here beforehand, but it made sense. He listened to Brendan coming down the hall, opening the door. He hoped they'd all just go quickly—

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Brendan asked.

"Is Chris here?" Joq asked; Chris heard his voice and sat right up.

"He's got nothing to say to you—"

"I know, I don't want to bother him, I just brought this—"

"He doesn't want anything from you," Brendan said.

And Chris was on his feet and coming down the hall as he watched Brendan slamming the door.

"Jesus, Brendan," Chris said and went to go by him.

"He's leaving," Brendan told him.

Chris ducked past him and opened the door.

Joq was there, looking around the porch like he was looking for something.

"Joq?" Chris asked.

"Chris," Joq breathed his name out and something almost like a smile crossed his face before he buried it. "I'm not trying to bother you, I just needed to give you this and I'll be out of your way."

"He doesn't need anything from you," Brendan started up and Chris stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

"I'm not looking for anything here," Joq said, his tone the usual calm one, but there was a note of fragility to it Chris had never heard before. He looked great in a white button up, tailored navy shorts, and as he pushed his blonde hair off his face and met Chris' gaze hesitantly, he still managed to make Chris want him.

"I just came to give you this," he held out a wrapped package. "I finished packing and I didn't know what to do with it. I," he shook his head, "I bought it for you that day, before I forgot about the dinner and well, it's small and stupid, but I still think you might like it, so," he shook it.

Chris knew he was staring; he couldn't quite believe Joq was here. But as he looked closer at Joq's face where he was flicking his gaze from the package to Chris' collarbones, an uncharacteristic nervous tick, he saw as well he looked kind of shit. He'd imagined him fine, the same, enjoying the house and being his usual unruffled self but as he looked at him now, he realised he was far from fine.

Then he heard what he'd said.

"Packing? Are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, just back with the parents, you know," Joq replied, still not meeting Chris' eyes.

"Back with your parents? Why? I gave you the house. You love the house," he frowned. "Don't you?"

"I adore the house," Joq replied, "but, c'mon, Chris, I'm not staying in your multimillion-dollar house. It's fine, I'll be fine. Mum's excited to have me back, so."

"Why don't you go back to your St Kilda place?"

"I let the lease lapse," he glanced away.

"When?"

"Ah, six months ago," he shrugged.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Joq sighed. "I don't know. I don't know why I," he shook his head. "I don't know."

So, the last six months they were together, he didn't have the back-up plan Chris thought he did? It had never bothered Chris—he had another place as well—but it had kind of been another foot out the door.

"Anyway, here," he held the package out again. "I've given Terry the keys, she told me you were here."

Chris nodded. She'd asked if he still wanted her to provide Joq with an ‘all access pass' if he came by. Chris had been in his office when she asked, back to her, facing the windows. "Yes, of course," he'd said quietly. He'd meant that; he wouldn't use his money as a shield, he'd just never expected it to be relevant again.

Now, he was looking at Joq holding something out to him and feeling lost.

"Can you please take it so I can go," Joq said softly.

Chris swallowed. He didn't want to take it if it meant Joq would go.

"What is it?"

"A gift."

"Why?"

Joq looked at him. "Because I saw it and thought of you."

Chris took it, his fingers brushing Joq's in a gentle caress, just a forefinger stroking his. Joq returned the touch, before taking his hand back and stepping back as well.

"Thanks," Joq said, tucking his hands in his pockets and turning to go.

"Hold on," Chris said.

Joq raised an eyebrow and oh, Chris had fucking missed that; he smiled.

"Don't you want to watch me open it?"

"I," Joq said and stopped again. He looked broken.

Chris clutched the package in his hand so he wouldn't reach for him. He looked down, felt Joq waiting, and opened it. He smoothed the brown paper aside and recognised the tartan wrapping paper immediately. He huffed a laugh and pulled it open. A crest kilt pin. His crest.

"Where did you get this?"

"Antique shop, but ah, it's not an antique. It was cheap, nothing special, but I thought you'd like it ‘cos, you know, it's yours."

Chris nodded along and smiled at the insignia—FORTIS ET FIDUS—‘strong and faithful.'

"It is," he turned it over in his hands before looking up, "thank you."

Joq cleared his throat. "You're welcome."

"Well, I better—"

"How's Delia?" Chris asked.

Joq glanced back and smiled, something real in it. "Still pretty mean, but you know, good. Missing you."

"I miss her too," Chris said because he did. "She going to be alright with the move? She can stay in the house if you like, no reason not to let her have it—"

"Chris," Joq smiled fondly at him. It was still sad, but it was getting warmer. "You can't leave a house to a cat."

Chris cracked a smile. "I can do whatever I want, I'm an eccentric billionaire."

Joq laughed and Chris loved it. Still loved him.

"She'll adjust," Joq said.

"She shouldn't have to," Chris murmured.

"Yeah, well, her owner's a fuck-up, so," Joq shrugged and smiled wryly. "I better," he waved his hand up the path. He went to go again, but then stopped, took a deep breath and met Chris' eyes with more confidence than he had so far. "But for what it's worth?"

Chris eyed him warily. "Yeah?"

"What I felt for George?"

He tensed at that godforsaken name and waited for him to go on.

"Not even close to what I felt for you."

Chris' heart was pounding and he didn't know what to say.

Joq headed up the path.

Chris squeezed the pin in his hand.

He strolled down the steps after him. Joq heard him and turned.

"Felt?" Chris asked once he was an inch away.

Joq shook his head. "Feel. What I feel."

Chris searched his eyes. "You still have feelings for me?"

Joq laughed at him, but it wasn't mean, not at all. "Too many feelings."

Chris smiled; he felt giddy and scared, but he also felt good for the first time in a month.

"I have too many feelings for you too," he said.

"Like wanting to punch me in the face?" Joq asked.

"Not even close," Chris grinned. "That would be Brendan."

Joq huffed a laugh and winced at the same time. "I'm really sorry. If I could do it all again—"

"Hey," Chris reached for him and reeled him in with a hand on his back. "I'm sorry too."

"What for?"

"Not accepting your apology the first time."

"You shouldn't accept it this time."

"Well," he grinned down at him, "unfortunately I'm still in love with you. And you got me this lovely pin."

Joq wrapped his arms around him and Chris hugged him close; he was surprised by how fiercely Joq squeezed him back.

"I'm in love with you too. Come home."

Chris kissed the top of his head and murmured his reply into his hair. "I'd love to."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," came from behind them.

"Don't start," Chris leaned back and told Brendan, but he was watching Joq, who was watching him back, barely ruffled by Brendan's interruption.

"Don't start?" Brendan started up anyway and came closer. "You could do so much better!"

And Chris laughed, eyes never leaving Joq's as Joq replied, "Maybe he can, but I can't."

Chris beamed and kissed him.