STRPS -- What You See
Sep. 15th, 2010 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_deep_magicTitle: What You See
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
the_deep_magic
Pairing: Pinto
Word Count: 4,055
Rating: hard R
Warnings: angst, dirty talk
Summary: for this prompt at the kink meme – Chris has body image issues. Seriously. All he can focus on are his flaws and he hates himself when he looks in the mirror. He can't talk to anyone about them [be]cause no one will take him seriously. Until someone (idc who) actually witnesses him picking himself apart.
A/N: I am working on the last part of Yellow Light! I am! I just keep getting distracted by irresistible prompts such as this.
Author:
the_deep_magic Pairing: Pinto
Word Count: 4,055
Rating: hard R
Warnings: angst, dirty talk
Summary: for this prompt at the kink meme – Chris has body image issues. Seriously. All he can focus on are his flaws and he hates himself when he looks in the mirror. He can't talk to anyone about them [be]cause no one will take him seriously. Until someone (idc who) actually witnesses him picking himself apart.
A/N: I am working on the last part of Yellow Light! I am! I just keep getting distracted by irresistible prompts such as this.
Everybody knows Chris is vain.
There are a few things that are absolute certainties on the set: Zach will always have something to say about everybody’s shoes. Karl will never pass up an opportunity to talk Trek lore with a fellow geek. Zoe, if hungry, will steal anyone’s food at any time, no matter how extensively it is labeled. And Chris will not pass a reflective surface without looking at it.
None of these are big things, but they’re constant fodder for teasing. John actually tried writing FOR ZOE on his candy bar wrappers, hoping some reverse psychology would come into play. (It did not.) Anton would occasionally ask Karl a question about the original series, eyes so wide and innocent that it usually took Karl several minutes of impassioned ranting to realize he was being set up. One day, all the female crew members conspired to wear Uggs, just to make Zach physically ill. And everyone would quote Zoolander at Chris when his eyes wandered to catch his own reflection in a passing mirror or window. That’s just how it goes.
So when Chris is in his trailer getting ready for a photo shoot and he mutters “God, I hate these things” to Zach (who is there to advise shoe selection), the older man just laughs.
“Yeah, sucks to be one of the beautiful people,” he mutters with an eye roll. “You’re not wearing those, are you?”
Chris laughs it off with a “Must you always find fault with my footwear?”
But after that, Zach starts noticing little things. Like Chris’ facial expression when he catches his reflection – it’s not the self-satisfied look of a movie star and it’s sure as hell not Blue Steel. It’s pained, almost frantic at times. And the way Chris picks at any real or perceived blemish on his skin. The makeup guy grumbled something about it while Zach was getting his ears put on. Zach hadn’t really noticed it before, but Chris is always poking or scraping at something.
And none of this is uncommon; it’s LA, after all, and Zach would be willing to bet that fear of ugliness trumps fear of death or public speaking in this zip code. But something about Chris’ vanity doesn’t fit with the rest of him. He shows up early, works hard, and never complains about long hours or tough stunts. This preoccupation with his appearance seems beneath him, and it starts to trouble Zach. So he starts to pay attention.
They go out for drinks one night and Chris shows up wearing a hat pulled down low over his forehead. Everything goes well until Anton decides he wants to try it on, and Chris freaks out a bit.
“What gives?” asks Anton as Chris dodges his hand and clamps his own hand over the hat. “I’ve had my cootie shot.”
“You are such a five year old. It’s my hat and it’s on my head because I want to wear it.”
“Please? I just want to see it.”
“You see with your eyes, nitwit,” Chris says, and the matter seems to be settled for the time being… until Zoe reaches over and whips off Chris’ hat, tossing it to Anton.
“Shit!” Chris exclaims, ducking his head.
“What’s your major malfunction?” asks Anton, who, Zach notes, cannot pull off that look.
“I’ve got this… thing on my forehead,” Chris mutters uncomfortably, and Zoe tilts Chris’ head up to look.
“You idiot!” she laughs. “There’s, like, nothing there! You look perfect as ever.”
Zach can see a tiny red bump near Chris’ hairline, something that no one would’ve noticed if he hadn’t drawn attention to it. But Chris looks downright terrified.
“Chris, why do you always have to do that, man?” asks Karl, shaking his head. “Quit fishing for compliments. We all know you’re gorgeous.”
Chris squirms miserably in his seat. “’m sorry,” he says, and Zach can’t take it anymore. He grabs the hat back from Anton and hands it to Chris, who quickly puts it back on his head.
“C’mon, guys,” John says with false sincerity. “He’s just nervous he won’t make Sexiest Man Alive before he’s thirty. We’ve all been there.” Everyone laughs, and Zach marvels that nobody seems to realize how truly uncomfortable Chris is. He can’t blame them too much, though – last week he would’ve been laughing right along with them.
“So I met this guy this weekend,” Zach pipes up loudly, and everybody groans, but they all look at him expectantly. Zach has a habit of meeting and falling for guys who seem perfectly normal at first glance, but then end up being more or less certifiably crazy, from the conspiracy nuts to the Sylar fetishists. And if he’s exaggerated one or two of the stories for comic effect, well, it keeps everybody entertained for a while.
So he launches into the story of Brent, the investment banker who has a steady income and an adorable dog, and who tried to Vulcan nerve pinch Zach in the middle of a crowded club. Soon he’s got everyone doubled over with laughter, but he can’t help notice the grateful look Chris shoots him across the table.
After that, Zach goes into detective mode. It’s not that he deliberately sets out to spy on Chris; he just tries to keep his eyes open. When the cameras are rolling and Chris is in character, everything’s fine – he’s got every bit of Kirk’s self-assurance, his cockiness. But he can barely make it off the set without checking his teeth in a reflective surface or fiddling with the waistband of his costume. Once Zach really notices it, it’s downright maddening to watch.
So when Chris asks Zach to grab a twenty out of his wallet, Zach can’t help but poke around a little. He finds business cards for eight separate dermatologists in the Los Angeles area, along with three plastic surgeons. He immediately feels guilty for having looked, but surely this is not normal behavior, even for an actor. And what the hell could Chris possibly want plastic surgery for?
Zach tries to probe a little when it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking, by mentioning his aunt who recently had some work done.
“Would you ever do it?” Chris asks, seeming genuinely curious.
“I don’t know,” Zach says, answering as truthfully as he can. “I used to hate my nose when I was younger – I mean I really despised it. I swore I’d get a nose job as soon as I moved out to California, but I’m okay with it now. And I’d like to say that I’m always going to be happy with how I look, but… I suppose I’m not above a little Botox, maybe some liposuction if I have to down the road. Kind of comes with the profession.” He takes a deep breath. “How about you?”
“The same, I guess,” Chris says quietly. “I’ve, y’know, asked around. I’d like to get my chin fixed. And, yeah, liposuction.”
Zach doesn’t know what to say. He has no idea what about his chin Chris would get fixed or where he’d find the fat to liposuction out. The day Chris filmed the dorm room scene with Gaila, cast and crew members (both male and female) suddenly found pressing reasons to be on the set. And Chris had been so fidgety between takes – Zach thought it was just nerves, but apparently it went much deeper than that.
“Chris,” he says slowly, wanting the younger man to hear every word. “You don’t need anything fixed. I mean it – you should hear the girls in the costume department argue over who gets to measure your inseam. You’re about as close to perfect as anyone gets.”
For a few seconds, Chris looks like he’s about to argue, but then he just mutters, “Yeah,” staring into the middle distance, and Zach knows he doesn’t believe a word of it.
He invites Chris over for movie night. They haven’t gotten to talk much since the plastic surgery conversation, and Zach wonders if Chris has been purposefully avoiding him. He’s taken pains to cover up his habit of checking his reflection, but he hasn’t stopped completely and he seems even edgier than before. Zach is actually a little surprised that the younger man accepted his invitation, but he’s always happy to be able to spend one-on-one time with him. And things start out smoothly as ever, like there’s nothing wrong at all – until Zach goes for another beer and comes back to find Chris checking his reflection in a CD case.
“Chris?” Zach says, and the younger man jumps, quickly putting the jewel case back where he found it. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Check your reflection so often.”
“I… oh, I thought I had something in my teeth.”
“Not just now – in general. You’re always doing it. That’s not necessarily bad; I just want to know why.”
“You know me,” Chris says with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile. “I just love to look at myself.”
“See, here’s the thing: I don’t think you do. I think you hate what you see.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know; you tell me.”
Chris shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Can’t we just watch the movie?”
“In a minute. Chris, I’m worried about you.”
“But I’m fine.”
Zach chews on his lip for a moment before getting an idea. “Come with me,” he says, taking Chris by the arm and guiding him toward his bedroom.
Toward the full-length mirror in his bedroom.
Of course, Chris goes right to the mirror, and Zach comes around to stand behind him. “Tell me what you see,” he says.
Chris groans even as he picks at a red spot on his neck. “I see a guy with a lunatic for a friend.”
“What else?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Chris, please,” Zach says quietly, moving between Chris and the mirror. “Help me understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“I want to know what goes on in your head when you look at yourself. Just say what you’re thinking. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just tell me.”
Zach steps out of the way and Chris sighs upon seeing his reflection again. “I see… well, I see bags under my eyes because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we started filming this damn movie.”
“Good. Keep going.”
“I see another zit starting to form by my nose. Jesus, my skin is terrible. I wish I could have yours, Zach. I’m 28 years old and I still have acne – it’s disgusting. I mean, it has to clear up at some point before I start getting wrinkles, right? And I already sort of have wrinkles, right here, starting to get crow’s feet.” He squints at the mirror and stretches the skin that’s gathered beside his eyes. “They’re horrible. My whole face is horrible. Don’t even get me started on my scar – I’ve tried everything short of skin grafts, and it’s still there, as big as ever. It’s the first thing anybody sees when they look at me.”
Zach’s heart is already starting to twist in his chest, and as much as he wants to stop Chris, to tell him how ridiculous he sounds, he knows it wouldn’t do much good. Chris believes every word he’s saying – has probably believed it for a long time – and no matter how good a friend Zach is, no matter how sincerely he pleads with Chris, the younger man is going to think he’s just being polite.
Chris has started to tug at the neck of his t-shirt, poking at a new freckle near his collarbone. “Take it off,” Zach says quietly, “and keep going.”
He expected a bit of resistance, but apparently Chris is in full contemptuous mode, because he pulls off his t-shirt and immediately grimaces at his image in the mirror. “God, look at this.” He pinches his abdomen, pulling up mostly skin and maybe just the tiniest bit of fat. “I do crunches until I can barely move, and I still can’t get rid of this. There’s got to be something wrong with my metabolism. I didn’t used to be like this, I don’t think. Damn it, I just don’t have the time to work out that much, and I look like absolute shit. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Zach can’t take it anymore. “Stop! Chris, just stop.” It’s almost physically painful to hear Chris direct such harsh words at himself, especially when all Zach can see is lean, hard muscle, flawless skin, and the tortured expression on Chris’ face. “Listen to yourself. Would you say that shit about anyone else? Would you say it about me?”
“What?” Chris looks genuinely perplexed as he turns to face Zach. “No, of course not. That’s ridiculous – look at you. I know I can be a little bit hard on myself—”
“Chris, no,” Zach says, unclenching his fists to rest his hands on Chris’ shoulders. “That’s not being hard on yourself. That’s tearing yourself apart, and you don’t deserve it. Nobody does, but especially not you. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see beautiful blue eyes, an amazing smile, and your body… Jesus, Chris, your body.”
“Zach, you don’t have to—”
“Yes,” Zach shouts, “yes, I fucking well do. I can’t stand here and listen to this. These things you think about yourself, they’re not true. If I heard anybody else say that about you, I’d punch them. And I know you won’t believe me if I tell you, but maybe… maybe I can show you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” Zach says, and with a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening, he leans forward and kisses Chris hard on the mouth.
Chris pulls back in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”
Zach holds firm to Chris’ shoulders, not allowing him to back away. “Chris, how high are my standards? Aesthetically, I mean. You’ve met some of the guys I’ve dated, seen pictures. How much of a snob am I when it comes to looks?”
“Well, not a snob,” Chris says, looking away and fidgeting. “Just… picky?”
“Damn right I’m picky – I don’t settle. I want brains and looks.”
“Your point?”
“My point is, if you were really ugly, would I do this?” With that, Zach runs his tongue up Chris’ throat, ending in a wet, sucking kiss beneath his jaw.
“Zach,” Chris whispers brokenly.
“No, I mean it. Answer me. If this scar made you look hideous, would I do this?” He touches his lips lightly, reverently to the mark on Chris’ cheek, feeling the younger man shake in his arms as he does it.
“If you were so disgusting,” Zach whispers directly into Chris’ ear as he wraps an arm around him and presses their bodies together, “Would I want to touch you like this?”
“I… I guess not,” says Chris, and Zach feels a little bit of the tension ease.
“Of course not,” Zach retorts softly, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Chris’ back. “I have a reputation to maintain. Can’t sleep with just anyone.”
Chris pulls back, and Zach’s suddenly afraid that he’s stepped over the line, but Chris kisses him pleadingly, like he doesn’t want Zach to let go. And he won’t. He lets Chris remove his shirt and walk them back to the bed.
He’s gently lowering Chris down when the younger man freezes and murmurs, “I want this, but… you need to turn off the lights.”
“No way,” Zach says, cupping Chris’ cheek. “I wanna see you.”
Chris shakes his head. “No, I can’t— I’ll be too nervous, and I won’t… Zach, please.”
Zach sighs. He’s not sure this is a step forward, but he’s committed himself, and he has to follow through or Chris will never believe him. “Alright,” he says, dropping a kiss on the younger man’s forehead. “Just this once.”
As soon as he flips the switch, he hears Chris shimmying out of his pants, so Zach does the same. There’s a little moonlight filtering in through the blinds, just enough to see the bed and the outline of Chris on it. With a stupid grin, he says, “Marco.”
Chris snorts, but replies, “Polo.”
“Marco,” Zach says again, stumbling with his hands outstretched even though he knows exactly where the bed is.”
“Polo, you imbecile. You know where I am.”
“Just checking.” Zach eases his way onto the bed and crawls until he’s lying flush against Chris. He leans up to kiss him, running his hand down Chris’ neck, his chest, until it’s pressed on top of his heart. “Chris, you gotta do something for me. Stop thinking. That’s your job – you don’t get to think about how you look, only how you feel. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” Chris whispers into the darkness.
“It’s my job to make you feel good. If your mind starts to wander, if you start to worry about your body, just say my name and I’ll tell you exactly what I’m thinking. And you aren’t allowed to argue with me.”
Zach feels Chris smile against his lips. “That’s a lot of rules to remember.”
“Hey, beauty and brains, remember? I have faith in your mental recall.”
Chris chuckles, a soft, breathy sound that turns into a gasp as Zach’s hand coasts lower down Chris’ torso. “Zach,” he says.
“I’m thinking that I wish I’d gotten a better look at you when the lights were on.” Zach lets his fingers stroke over Chris’ belly. “This tickle?”
“Yes!” Chris gasps, his abs tightening with the sensation.
“Mmmm, nice. Bet I could scrub my clothes on these.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Chris whispers.
With a gentle slap to the outside of his hip, Zach reprimands him. “No arguing, remember? And I’ll do my laundry however I damn well want to do my laundry. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Chris says. His voice sounds a little strained, but when Zach goes to kiss him again, the corner of his mouth is quirked up.
“Good.” Zach shifts up until he’s on all fours above Chris. “Now, since I didn’t get a good look at you, I’m going to have to learn your body by touch. All of it. I’ll start with your arms, then--”
“Zach.”
“Okay,” Zach sighs, “maybe that was too much, too soon. Right now I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you again. Partly to shut you up, but mostly because your lips feel incredible.” He leans down to make good on his words. The kiss starts slowly, but soon Chris is responding eagerly, bringing a hand up to wind through Zach’s hair and keep him close.
When Chris pulls back to catch his breath, Zach runs his hand over Chris’ shoulder, up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Hey, flex for me.” Chris does, and Zach growls appreciatively. “Fuck, yes. I love a good pair of arms. Have I ever told you— no, of course I haven’t. I love when a guy is strong enough to hold me down. Pin me to the bed and just pound into me.” Zach shifts his weight back on his knees so he can skim both of his hands down Chris’ body. “God, there’s nothing like it. One of these days, you’re going to give it a try. I won’t make it easy on you, either – you’re really gonna have to hold me down if you want my ass. It’ll be so good. Abs like these, I bet you fuck like a god.”
Chris groans and arches beneath him, but Zach keeps running his palms up and down Chris’ sides, over his chest and shoulders. “Not tonight, though. No, when you fuck me, it’ll be with every light in this house blazing, so I can watch those gorgeous eyes roll back in their sockets. And trust me, Chris, they will roll back.”
“Zach,” Chris whines, “Touch me. Please.”
“I am touching you.”
“My cock. Please, touch my cock.”
With a wicked laugh, Zach tilts down to press a chaste kiss to Chris’ lips. “I thought you’d never ask.” By now, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness and he can see a sliver of moonlight reflected in Chris’ eyes. He knows Chris must be able to see him, too, at least a little bit, so he smiles deviously as he takes Chris’ cock in his hand.
“And this. Oh, this is just perfect.” Zach swirls his thumb around the head to collect the fluid there and uses it to ease the slide of his hand.
“Zach—”
“Mmmm, yeah, imagining you pushing into me slowly, fucking me open. Fuck, you feel good. Good in my hand, even better inside me.”
“No, I wasn’t— I didn’t—” Chris pants. “I want to feel you, too.”
“Oh,” says Zach. He’d gotten a little carried away in his own head just then. “Yeah,” he whispers, planting one hand by Chris’ head and grinding their hips together. They both moan at the contact, and again when Zach wraps his other hand around them both and starts stroking in long, slow pulls.
Chris’ hips start rutting up into Zach’s grip and the older man laughs breathlessly. “Ah, fuck, yes. C’mon, Chris, help me out.”
One of Chris’ hands weaves between their bodies and joins with Zach’s. Chris quickens the pace, and by now Zach has no intention of slowing him down. He rests his forehead against Chris’ and shuts his eyes, focusing on the hot, needy sounds the younger man is making beneath him. He draws in a breath to tell Chris to come for him, but he’s already there and gone, pulsing in Zach’s grip and Zach follows him, milking them both together until he collapses.
He quickly rolls beside Chris and pulls his hand to his chest so the younger man can feel how fast Zach’s heart is beating. After a minute or so, Chris twists into Zach’s embrace and the older man holds him close, fingers curling around Chris’ hip and the back of his neck.
When Zach’s brain can string together sentences again, his thoughts turn toward the morning, the next day, the day after that. As much as he wishes Chris could be cured with enough supportive words and good (scratch that, fantastic) sex, he knows it won’t happen. By morning, Chris may have already convinced himself that Zach slept with him out of pity, and that’s something Zach can’t take. Chris needs to be whole, and Zach can’t give him that on his own.
“Hey, Chris?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“How do you feel?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Look, I want you to know…” Zach takes a deep breath, hoping he’ll say it right. “What you think when you look in the mirror? Not everybody does that when they look at themselves. This thing that makes you worry so much, there’s a name for it. And a treatment.”
“’m not crazy,” Chris whispers, burying his head against Zach’s chest.
“I know,” Zach sighs, stroking the back of Chris’ neck. “You’ve just got some wires crossed, is all. There’s someone I think you should see. When I first moved out here, before I started getting work… I went through a tough time. A friend recommended this doctor, and she really helped me.”
Chris is silent for a long time, and Zach tries hard to keep the tension out of his body until Chris finally speaks up. “Will you go with me?”
Zach smiles broadly against Chris’ scalp. “Of course. It’ll be a regular after-school special.”
Chris is silent again for a long time, and Zach’s close to falling asleep when the younger man whispers, “You… you know all the stuff you were saying to me? About pinning you and…”
“And fucking me senseless?” Zach finishes for him.
“Yeah,” Chris says, and Zach can hear the small smile in his voice. “I want that, too.”
“Of course. All part of Quinto’s Patented Physical Therapy. But you might need a prescription for some of the rougher stuff.”
“Shush,” Chris mutters, pushing weakly against Zach’s chest. “I’m trying to sleep.”
Zach chuckles. “Good night, beautiful,” he says.
Chris doesn’t say a word.
There are a few things that are absolute certainties on the set: Zach will always have something to say about everybody’s shoes. Karl will never pass up an opportunity to talk Trek lore with a fellow geek. Zoe, if hungry, will steal anyone’s food at any time, no matter how extensively it is labeled. And Chris will not pass a reflective surface without looking at it.
None of these are big things, but they’re constant fodder for teasing. John actually tried writing FOR ZOE on his candy bar wrappers, hoping some reverse psychology would come into play. (It did not.) Anton would occasionally ask Karl a question about the original series, eyes so wide and innocent that it usually took Karl several minutes of impassioned ranting to realize he was being set up. One day, all the female crew members conspired to wear Uggs, just to make Zach physically ill. And everyone would quote Zoolander at Chris when his eyes wandered to catch his own reflection in a passing mirror or window. That’s just how it goes.
So when Chris is in his trailer getting ready for a photo shoot and he mutters “God, I hate these things” to Zach (who is there to advise shoe selection), the older man just laughs.
“Yeah, sucks to be one of the beautiful people,” he mutters with an eye roll. “You’re not wearing those, are you?”
Chris laughs it off with a “Must you always find fault with my footwear?”
But after that, Zach starts noticing little things. Like Chris’ facial expression when he catches his reflection – it’s not the self-satisfied look of a movie star and it’s sure as hell not Blue Steel. It’s pained, almost frantic at times. And the way Chris picks at any real or perceived blemish on his skin. The makeup guy grumbled something about it while Zach was getting his ears put on. Zach hadn’t really noticed it before, but Chris is always poking or scraping at something.
And none of this is uncommon; it’s LA, after all, and Zach would be willing to bet that fear of ugliness trumps fear of death or public speaking in this zip code. But something about Chris’ vanity doesn’t fit with the rest of him. He shows up early, works hard, and never complains about long hours or tough stunts. This preoccupation with his appearance seems beneath him, and it starts to trouble Zach. So he starts to pay attention.
&&&
They go out for drinks one night and Chris shows up wearing a hat pulled down low over his forehead. Everything goes well until Anton decides he wants to try it on, and Chris freaks out a bit.
“What gives?” asks Anton as Chris dodges his hand and clamps his own hand over the hat. “I’ve had my cootie shot.”
“You are such a five year old. It’s my hat and it’s on my head because I want to wear it.”
“Please? I just want to see it.”
“You see with your eyes, nitwit,” Chris says, and the matter seems to be settled for the time being… until Zoe reaches over and whips off Chris’ hat, tossing it to Anton.
“Shit!” Chris exclaims, ducking his head.
“What’s your major malfunction?” asks Anton, who, Zach notes, cannot pull off that look.
“I’ve got this… thing on my forehead,” Chris mutters uncomfortably, and Zoe tilts Chris’ head up to look.
“You idiot!” she laughs. “There’s, like, nothing there! You look perfect as ever.”
Zach can see a tiny red bump near Chris’ hairline, something that no one would’ve noticed if he hadn’t drawn attention to it. But Chris looks downright terrified.
“Chris, why do you always have to do that, man?” asks Karl, shaking his head. “Quit fishing for compliments. We all know you’re gorgeous.”
Chris squirms miserably in his seat. “’m sorry,” he says, and Zach can’t take it anymore. He grabs the hat back from Anton and hands it to Chris, who quickly puts it back on his head.
“C’mon, guys,” John says with false sincerity. “He’s just nervous he won’t make Sexiest Man Alive before he’s thirty. We’ve all been there.” Everyone laughs, and Zach marvels that nobody seems to realize how truly uncomfortable Chris is. He can’t blame them too much, though – last week he would’ve been laughing right along with them.
“So I met this guy this weekend,” Zach pipes up loudly, and everybody groans, but they all look at him expectantly. Zach has a habit of meeting and falling for guys who seem perfectly normal at first glance, but then end up being more or less certifiably crazy, from the conspiracy nuts to the Sylar fetishists. And if he’s exaggerated one or two of the stories for comic effect, well, it keeps everybody entertained for a while.
So he launches into the story of Brent, the investment banker who has a steady income and an adorable dog, and who tried to Vulcan nerve pinch Zach in the middle of a crowded club. Soon he’s got everyone doubled over with laughter, but he can’t help notice the grateful look Chris shoots him across the table.
&&&
After that, Zach goes into detective mode. It’s not that he deliberately sets out to spy on Chris; he just tries to keep his eyes open. When the cameras are rolling and Chris is in character, everything’s fine – he’s got every bit of Kirk’s self-assurance, his cockiness. But he can barely make it off the set without checking his teeth in a reflective surface or fiddling with the waistband of his costume. Once Zach really notices it, it’s downright maddening to watch.
So when Chris asks Zach to grab a twenty out of his wallet, Zach can’t help but poke around a little. He finds business cards for eight separate dermatologists in the Los Angeles area, along with three plastic surgeons. He immediately feels guilty for having looked, but surely this is not normal behavior, even for an actor. And what the hell could Chris possibly want plastic surgery for?
Zach tries to probe a little when it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking, by mentioning his aunt who recently had some work done.
“Would you ever do it?” Chris asks, seeming genuinely curious.
“I don’t know,” Zach says, answering as truthfully as he can. “I used to hate my nose when I was younger – I mean I really despised it. I swore I’d get a nose job as soon as I moved out to California, but I’m okay with it now. And I’d like to say that I’m always going to be happy with how I look, but… I suppose I’m not above a little Botox, maybe some liposuction if I have to down the road. Kind of comes with the profession.” He takes a deep breath. “How about you?”
“The same, I guess,” Chris says quietly. “I’ve, y’know, asked around. I’d like to get my chin fixed. And, yeah, liposuction.”
Zach doesn’t know what to say. He has no idea what about his chin Chris would get fixed or where he’d find the fat to liposuction out. The day Chris filmed the dorm room scene with Gaila, cast and crew members (both male and female) suddenly found pressing reasons to be on the set. And Chris had been so fidgety between takes – Zach thought it was just nerves, but apparently it went much deeper than that.
“Chris,” he says slowly, wanting the younger man to hear every word. “You don’t need anything fixed. I mean it – you should hear the girls in the costume department argue over who gets to measure your inseam. You’re about as close to perfect as anyone gets.”
For a few seconds, Chris looks like he’s about to argue, but then he just mutters, “Yeah,” staring into the middle distance, and Zach knows he doesn’t believe a word of it.
&&&
He invites Chris over for movie night. They haven’t gotten to talk much since the plastic surgery conversation, and Zach wonders if Chris has been purposefully avoiding him. He’s taken pains to cover up his habit of checking his reflection, but he hasn’t stopped completely and he seems even edgier than before. Zach is actually a little surprised that the younger man accepted his invitation, but he’s always happy to be able to spend one-on-one time with him. And things start out smoothly as ever, like there’s nothing wrong at all – until Zach goes for another beer and comes back to find Chris checking his reflection in a CD case.
“Chris?” Zach says, and the younger man jumps, quickly putting the jewel case back where he found it. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Check your reflection so often.”
“I… oh, I thought I had something in my teeth.”
“Not just now – in general. You’re always doing it. That’s not necessarily bad; I just want to know why.”
“You know me,” Chris says with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile. “I just love to look at myself.”
“See, here’s the thing: I don’t think you do. I think you hate what you see.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know; you tell me.”
Chris shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Can’t we just watch the movie?”
“In a minute. Chris, I’m worried about you.”
“But I’m fine.”
Zach chews on his lip for a moment before getting an idea. “Come with me,” he says, taking Chris by the arm and guiding him toward his bedroom.
Toward the full-length mirror in his bedroom.
Of course, Chris goes right to the mirror, and Zach comes around to stand behind him. “Tell me what you see,” he says.
Chris groans even as he picks at a red spot on his neck. “I see a guy with a lunatic for a friend.”
“What else?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Chris, please,” Zach says quietly, moving between Chris and the mirror. “Help me understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“I want to know what goes on in your head when you look at yourself. Just say what you’re thinking. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just tell me.”
Zach steps out of the way and Chris sighs upon seeing his reflection again. “I see… well, I see bags under my eyes because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we started filming this damn movie.”
“Good. Keep going.”
“I see another zit starting to form by my nose. Jesus, my skin is terrible. I wish I could have yours, Zach. I’m 28 years old and I still have acne – it’s disgusting. I mean, it has to clear up at some point before I start getting wrinkles, right? And I already sort of have wrinkles, right here, starting to get crow’s feet.” He squints at the mirror and stretches the skin that’s gathered beside his eyes. “They’re horrible. My whole face is horrible. Don’t even get me started on my scar – I’ve tried everything short of skin grafts, and it’s still there, as big as ever. It’s the first thing anybody sees when they look at me.”
Zach’s heart is already starting to twist in his chest, and as much as he wants to stop Chris, to tell him how ridiculous he sounds, he knows it wouldn’t do much good. Chris believes every word he’s saying – has probably believed it for a long time – and no matter how good a friend Zach is, no matter how sincerely he pleads with Chris, the younger man is going to think he’s just being polite.
Chris has started to tug at the neck of his t-shirt, poking at a new freckle near his collarbone. “Take it off,” Zach says quietly, “and keep going.”
He expected a bit of resistance, but apparently Chris is in full contemptuous mode, because he pulls off his t-shirt and immediately grimaces at his image in the mirror. “God, look at this.” He pinches his abdomen, pulling up mostly skin and maybe just the tiniest bit of fat. “I do crunches until I can barely move, and I still can’t get rid of this. There’s got to be something wrong with my metabolism. I didn’t used to be like this, I don’t think. Damn it, I just don’t have the time to work out that much, and I look like absolute shit. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Zach can’t take it anymore. “Stop! Chris, just stop.” It’s almost physically painful to hear Chris direct such harsh words at himself, especially when all Zach can see is lean, hard muscle, flawless skin, and the tortured expression on Chris’ face. “Listen to yourself. Would you say that shit about anyone else? Would you say it about me?”
“What?” Chris looks genuinely perplexed as he turns to face Zach. “No, of course not. That’s ridiculous – look at you. I know I can be a little bit hard on myself—”
“Chris, no,” Zach says, unclenching his fists to rest his hands on Chris’ shoulders. “That’s not being hard on yourself. That’s tearing yourself apart, and you don’t deserve it. Nobody does, but especially not you. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see beautiful blue eyes, an amazing smile, and your body… Jesus, Chris, your body.”
“Zach, you don’t have to—”
“Yes,” Zach shouts, “yes, I fucking well do. I can’t stand here and listen to this. These things you think about yourself, they’re not true. If I heard anybody else say that about you, I’d punch them. And I know you won’t believe me if I tell you, but maybe… maybe I can show you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” Zach says, and with a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening, he leans forward and kisses Chris hard on the mouth.
Chris pulls back in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”
Zach holds firm to Chris’ shoulders, not allowing him to back away. “Chris, how high are my standards? Aesthetically, I mean. You’ve met some of the guys I’ve dated, seen pictures. How much of a snob am I when it comes to looks?”
“Well, not a snob,” Chris says, looking away and fidgeting. “Just… picky?”
“Damn right I’m picky – I don’t settle. I want brains and looks.”
“Your point?”
“My point is, if you were really ugly, would I do this?” With that, Zach runs his tongue up Chris’ throat, ending in a wet, sucking kiss beneath his jaw.
“Zach,” Chris whispers brokenly.
“No, I mean it. Answer me. If this scar made you look hideous, would I do this?” He touches his lips lightly, reverently to the mark on Chris’ cheek, feeling the younger man shake in his arms as he does it.
“If you were so disgusting,” Zach whispers directly into Chris’ ear as he wraps an arm around him and presses their bodies together, “Would I want to touch you like this?”
“I… I guess not,” says Chris, and Zach feels a little bit of the tension ease.
“Of course not,” Zach retorts softly, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Chris’ back. “I have a reputation to maintain. Can’t sleep with just anyone.”
Chris pulls back, and Zach’s suddenly afraid that he’s stepped over the line, but Chris kisses him pleadingly, like he doesn’t want Zach to let go. And he won’t. He lets Chris remove his shirt and walk them back to the bed.
He’s gently lowering Chris down when the younger man freezes and murmurs, “I want this, but… you need to turn off the lights.”
“No way,” Zach says, cupping Chris’ cheek. “I wanna see you.”
Chris shakes his head. “No, I can’t— I’ll be too nervous, and I won’t… Zach, please.”
Zach sighs. He’s not sure this is a step forward, but he’s committed himself, and he has to follow through or Chris will never believe him. “Alright,” he says, dropping a kiss on the younger man’s forehead. “Just this once.”
As soon as he flips the switch, he hears Chris shimmying out of his pants, so Zach does the same. There’s a little moonlight filtering in through the blinds, just enough to see the bed and the outline of Chris on it. With a stupid grin, he says, “Marco.”
Chris snorts, but replies, “Polo.”
“Marco,” Zach says again, stumbling with his hands outstretched even though he knows exactly where the bed is.”
“Polo, you imbecile. You know where I am.”
“Just checking.” Zach eases his way onto the bed and crawls until he’s lying flush against Chris. He leans up to kiss him, running his hand down Chris’ neck, his chest, until it’s pressed on top of his heart. “Chris, you gotta do something for me. Stop thinking. That’s your job – you don’t get to think about how you look, only how you feel. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” Chris whispers into the darkness.
“It’s my job to make you feel good. If your mind starts to wander, if you start to worry about your body, just say my name and I’ll tell you exactly what I’m thinking. And you aren’t allowed to argue with me.”
Zach feels Chris smile against his lips. “That’s a lot of rules to remember.”
“Hey, beauty and brains, remember? I have faith in your mental recall.”
Chris chuckles, a soft, breathy sound that turns into a gasp as Zach’s hand coasts lower down Chris’ torso. “Zach,” he says.
“I’m thinking that I wish I’d gotten a better look at you when the lights were on.” Zach lets his fingers stroke over Chris’ belly. “This tickle?”
“Yes!” Chris gasps, his abs tightening with the sensation.
“Mmmm, nice. Bet I could scrub my clothes on these.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Chris whispers.
With a gentle slap to the outside of his hip, Zach reprimands him. “No arguing, remember? And I’ll do my laundry however I damn well want to do my laundry. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Chris says. His voice sounds a little strained, but when Zach goes to kiss him again, the corner of his mouth is quirked up.
“Good.” Zach shifts up until he’s on all fours above Chris. “Now, since I didn’t get a good look at you, I’m going to have to learn your body by touch. All of it. I’ll start with your arms, then--”
“Zach.”
“Okay,” Zach sighs, “maybe that was too much, too soon. Right now I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you again. Partly to shut you up, but mostly because your lips feel incredible.” He leans down to make good on his words. The kiss starts slowly, but soon Chris is responding eagerly, bringing a hand up to wind through Zach’s hair and keep him close.
When Chris pulls back to catch his breath, Zach runs his hand over Chris’ shoulder, up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Hey, flex for me.” Chris does, and Zach growls appreciatively. “Fuck, yes. I love a good pair of arms. Have I ever told you— no, of course I haven’t. I love when a guy is strong enough to hold me down. Pin me to the bed and just pound into me.” Zach shifts his weight back on his knees so he can skim both of his hands down Chris’ body. “God, there’s nothing like it. One of these days, you’re going to give it a try. I won’t make it easy on you, either – you’re really gonna have to hold me down if you want my ass. It’ll be so good. Abs like these, I bet you fuck like a god.”
Chris groans and arches beneath him, but Zach keeps running his palms up and down Chris’ sides, over his chest and shoulders. “Not tonight, though. No, when you fuck me, it’ll be with every light in this house blazing, so I can watch those gorgeous eyes roll back in their sockets. And trust me, Chris, they will roll back.”
“Zach,” Chris whines, “Touch me. Please.”
“I am touching you.”
“My cock. Please, touch my cock.”
With a wicked laugh, Zach tilts down to press a chaste kiss to Chris’ lips. “I thought you’d never ask.” By now, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness and he can see a sliver of moonlight reflected in Chris’ eyes. He knows Chris must be able to see him, too, at least a little bit, so he smiles deviously as he takes Chris’ cock in his hand.
“And this. Oh, this is just perfect.” Zach swirls his thumb around the head to collect the fluid there and uses it to ease the slide of his hand.
“Zach—”
“Mmmm, yeah, imagining you pushing into me slowly, fucking me open. Fuck, you feel good. Good in my hand, even better inside me.”
“No, I wasn’t— I didn’t—” Chris pants. “I want to feel you, too.”
“Oh,” says Zach. He’d gotten a little carried away in his own head just then. “Yeah,” he whispers, planting one hand by Chris’ head and grinding their hips together. They both moan at the contact, and again when Zach wraps his other hand around them both and starts stroking in long, slow pulls.
Chris’ hips start rutting up into Zach’s grip and the older man laughs breathlessly. “Ah, fuck, yes. C’mon, Chris, help me out.”
One of Chris’ hands weaves between their bodies and joins with Zach’s. Chris quickens the pace, and by now Zach has no intention of slowing him down. He rests his forehead against Chris’ and shuts his eyes, focusing on the hot, needy sounds the younger man is making beneath him. He draws in a breath to tell Chris to come for him, but he’s already there and gone, pulsing in Zach’s grip and Zach follows him, milking them both together until he collapses.
He quickly rolls beside Chris and pulls his hand to his chest so the younger man can feel how fast Zach’s heart is beating. After a minute or so, Chris twists into Zach’s embrace and the older man holds him close, fingers curling around Chris’ hip and the back of his neck.
When Zach’s brain can string together sentences again, his thoughts turn toward the morning, the next day, the day after that. As much as he wishes Chris could be cured with enough supportive words and good (scratch that, fantastic) sex, he knows it won’t happen. By morning, Chris may have already convinced himself that Zach slept with him out of pity, and that’s something Zach can’t take. Chris needs to be whole, and Zach can’t give him that on his own.
“Hey, Chris?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“How do you feel?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Look, I want you to know…” Zach takes a deep breath, hoping he’ll say it right. “What you think when you look in the mirror? Not everybody does that when they look at themselves. This thing that makes you worry so much, there’s a name for it. And a treatment.”
“’m not crazy,” Chris whispers, burying his head against Zach’s chest.
“I know,” Zach sighs, stroking the back of Chris’ neck. “You’ve just got some wires crossed, is all. There’s someone I think you should see. When I first moved out here, before I started getting work… I went through a tough time. A friend recommended this doctor, and she really helped me.”
Chris is silent for a long time, and Zach tries hard to keep the tension out of his body until Chris finally speaks up. “Will you go with me?”
Zach smiles broadly against Chris’ scalp. “Of course. It’ll be a regular after-school special.”
Chris is silent again for a long time, and Zach’s close to falling asleep when the younger man whispers, “You… you know all the stuff you were saying to me? About pinning you and…”
“And fucking me senseless?” Zach finishes for him.
“Yeah,” Chris says, and Zach can hear the small smile in his voice. “I want that, too.”
“Of course. All part of Quinto’s Patented Physical Therapy. But you might need a prescription for some of the rougher stuff.”
“Shush,” Chris mutters, pushing weakly against Zach’s chest. “I’m trying to sleep.”
Zach chuckles. “Good night, beautiful,” he says.
Chris doesn’t say a word.
