"Oh Chris." and it doesn't mean anything, it's just your name. He says it a thousand times a day. You still love hearing him say it in just that tone.

You close your eyes when it's all over, when you're curled up together. You're barely breathing heavily, even though you're both finished. There was a time when you both would have been panting, sweat dripping in a way that wasn't harlequin romance novel material, but sexy nonetheless. You tell yourself that it's better this way, less messy.

You're used to each other now, and it's efficient, fifteen minutes of perfect touching and then you're twined together, speaking through the sleep about boring things like schedules. His voice echoes from far away, something about JC and shopping and you can hear an edge of something in his voice.

"But you hate shopping." and you're not so sleepy anymore.

JC frightens you just a little. You don't like to use the word cheat, but when you're honest with yourself, you admit that's the appropriate word for what you did, smoldering at Joey one night, not expecting anything. You got luckier than you deserved, you're well aware. JC had given him up with barely a flutter, only a few hurt looks and a brief period where he'd painted with a lot of blacks and greys.

One of his abstracts hangs in your bedroom. It's mostly a light slate grey, swirled like a cloud. The bits of black make you feel uneasy if you look at them too long, and there's a bright hot bit of cherry red in one corner that makes you wonder what JC was thinking.

Those drops of paint look like blood, and you wonder who JC wanted to bleed. You know that it's probably not you. It makes you uncomfortable to have bits of JC's self immolation on your wall, but Joey loves it for some unaccountable reason, accepting it on your behalf. You wonder, less and less frequently, if JC's present was truly bountiful or merely one last grab at Joey.

You worry when Joey runs his hands down your side, close your eyes and wonder if he misses the beautiful lines that form JC's body. He's lanky and his muscles are gorgeous. You've seen him naked more than once, and you still don't really understand why Joey is with you.

You think that maybe you don't need to, not when Joey lifts his head a little and smiles at you. Your doubts are yours, just as JC's pain is his own, and Joey doesn't see those things, just the sunshine of his smile reflecting back to him and the beauty of JC's strange painting. You love him regardless of the uncertainty and it's enough.

You think maybe it's time to sleep, just as Joey relaxes against you, losing the end of his sentence and flopping an arm over your stomach. When you shut your eyes, there's brief red flare that makes you almost dizzy, but when Joey sighs softly into your hair, your world goes comfortingly dark and you're tired again.

~end~