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“He’s kind of a slut, isn’t he?” Naya murmurs in Darren’s ear, making him jump. “I love it.”
Darren hadn’t realized how hard he’d been staring at Chris, but to be fair, he didn’t realize Chris could…do that.
What he’s doing is sort of like what he does during “Single Ladies,” except – closer. A lot closer. Like…pressed up against Heather’s ass.
“He does seem to have…loosened up a bit,” Darren says.
“Oh, honey,” Naya says, scraping one long nail down over his cheek and cupping his chin. “It’s tour.”
She says it like it explains everything.
She prances off to join in on the chorus of “Rude Boy” with Amber, who pulls her into a tight hug. They dissolve into hopeless laughter.
Chris leans down and bites Heather’s neck, and Darren stops breathing.
*
“Another,” Chris says, and pushes the shot glass into Lea’s hand.
Lea giggles. “Oh, hey, you lush.”
“I’ve only had two,” Chris says, and pouts.
“In, like, ten minutes,” Lea says, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Slow down, cowboy.”
Darren is watching with mild interest from the couch. He and Harry smoked up a few minutes ago behind the bus, and he’s that mellow sort of high that makes him feel relaxed and not all that motivated to do anything.
“Hey,” Cory says, coming up behind Lea and Chris and grasping Chris’s shoulder. “Chris, can I talk to you?”
Chris looks up at Cory defiantly, but then his features soften.
Darren doesn’t quite get their relationship – they’re clearly close, and they have like twenty-five thousand jokes that no one else seems to get. But there’s something different about them too, not quite brothers, not quite—
“Okay, yeah,” Chris says, and Cory helps Chris to his feet.
They wander across the room and sit down on a couch and begin talking. Cory is moving his hands a lot, and Chris throws his head back and laughs.
“Yeah,” Lea says, catching Darren’s eye and smiling.
“What?” Darren asks.
“Oh,” Lea says, waving her hand. “That. You don’t want any of that.”
Darren raises an eyebrow. Lea climbs onto the couch next to him, cuddling close. She’s very warm and smells like roses.
“You’re pretty cute when you’re high,” Lea says, and leans in.
Before Darren knows what’s happening, they’re kissing. It’s mostly friendly, with maybe a tiny bit of intent on Lea’s part. She tastes like tequila and lime, and when they break apart Darren’s feeling dizzy.
Across the room, Chris is practically sitting in Cory’s lap. Cory brushes one hand over Chris’s cheek, and Chris tilts up his chin.
And oh. Then they’re kissing, and Cory’s angling Chris’s jaw so he can kiss him deeper, licking at his lips.
“Oh,” Darren says.
“Yeah, oh,” Lea says, squeezing Darren’s arm.
“I guess when you drink…” Darren starts to say.
“Cory doesn’t drink,” Lea says. “Ever.”
“Oh,” Darren says.
They’re still kissing. Cory slides one hand up Chris’s thigh.
Darren’s cheeks burn.
“Yeah,” Lea says, giggling and filling the shot glass Chris left behind and handing it to Darren. “Oh.”
*
Okay, so maybe Chris and Cory have something going on. Darren is cool with that. Chris can do whatever he wants. He didn’t think Cory was – well. He didn’t think – he doesn’t know what to think, exactly. Because now they’re on the plane, and Chris and Cory are sitting next to each other reading X-Men comics. Chris keeps drawing hilarious slightly pornographic scenes depicting Wolverine and Cyclops and passing them around, and Cory is laughing so hard Darren’s a little afraid he’s going to choke and die.
“This is so going to Twitter,” Lea threatens, and Chris snatches it back and mutters something about having compromising photographs he’d be happy to post.
“Chris,” Dianna says. “You know what we said about the—"
“Mutual assured destruction, bitches!” Chris crows.
“That is not an appropriate place for Wolverine to put his Adamantium claws,” Harry says, very seriously, and Amber nearly falls out of her seat.
*
“Are you high?” Darren asks Heather, who is giggling so hard she’s curled in on herself and shaking.
“Okay,” Darren hears Chris’s voice from the front of the plane, and then he emerges from the bathroom and comes trotting down the aisle.
“My lady,” he says grandly, and holds out his hand.
Dianna has been flicking through a copy of Italian Vogue, but when she sees Chris, her face brightens instantly. She takes his hand and lets him lead her back down the aisle, into the bathroom, and then they shut the door behind them.
“Um,” Darren says.
“This is going to be awesome,” Heather says, hiccuping out a laugh.
“Makeover?” Darren asks, because that’s the most obvious thing he can imagine Dianna doing to Chris in a bathroom. Chris isn’t Kurt, though, and he’s generally not a fan of make-up unless it’s related to a stage costume—
That’s when the moaning starts.
“Oh God,” Darren hears Dianna gasp. “Oh my god, Chris…”
Mark punches Cory, who’s blushing, in the shoulder.
“Ahh, right there – right there – oh – Jesus – don’t stop—“
There’s a clatter and the bathroom door shakes, then some more moaning.
Darren’s stomach tightens. They’re not really – Chris isn’t—
Maybe Darren has been a bit narrow in his interpretation of Chris’s sexuality. Chris is a twenty-one year old guy. He may not have it all figured out yet. Or maybe Chris does, and Darren is just the last to know. That’s certainly happened to Darren before.
“Fuck – Chris – fuck—“
Harry snorts and types something into the touchpad of his phone. On the other end of the plane, Jenna laughs.
“Do you think they’ll give me a cigarette if I ask?” Mark queries Cory, who rolls his eyes and pretends to be really involved in Angry Birds.
Darren flushes at one particularly expressive groan, and then it’s quiet.
“I’ve been really tryin’, baby,” Lea sings, perfectly on-pitch. “To hold back this feeling for soooo long…”
“And if you feeeeel,” Amber joins in, “like I do, shugah..."
The bathroom door clicks open and Dianna steps out. She’s flushed and her shirt is open a couple of buttons.
“Yeah!” Ashley shouts, and high-fives Dianna as she slides into her seat across from Mark.
“I could do that,” Mark tells her, and she just stares at him and shakes her head.
Chris emerges a couple minutes later, his shirt untucked and hair a mess.
“Well, I can cross that off my bucket list,” he says cheerfully, and smirks at Darren.
Darren swallows.
What. The. Fuck.
*
Chris and Lea are very close. Notoriously close, Ashley said once, and Darren wanted to ask what that meant, exactly, but then she had to go into make-up and he had to go get four hundred pounds of gel applied to his hair. The things he does for his art.
Lea and Chris are so close, in fact, that sometimes they share a hotel room on tour, and no one seems to care. More than once Darren’s found them asleep together in Chris’s trailer, curled around each other in a way that speaks of familiarity and comfort and a complete lack of inhibitions.
So when Lea texts him come up to our room – good times! in Toronto, Darren doesn’t think much of it. He simply pockets his cell, takes the elevator to the fifth floor of the hotel and knocks on the door.
Ashley swings it open, crowing, “Join the par-tay, D-Money!”
They tap knuckles, and Darren steps into the room.
He stops dead.
Lea is lying on the bed on her stomach with her shirt off, and Chris is straddling her back. He’s massaging her shoulders, and Lea is…moaning.
Apparently this is just the effect Chris has on women.
“Your hands are ridiculous,” Lea says on a heavy exhale. “It is one of many reasons why I’m sad you’re gay.”
“You are not sad I’m gay,” Chris says. “If I wasn’t, this would be much harder to explain to your boyfriend.”
“Whatever, Theo knows I have needs,” Lea says. “It’s tour.”
Darren coughs into his hand.
“Is this one of your ‘needs’?” Chris asks. “Where does ‘dick’ fall on Maslow’s hierarchy?”
“Are you offering?” Lea asks, fluttering her eyelashes.
“You know I would never hit that twice,” Chris drawls, and Lea reaches back and pinches his thigh, making him yelp.
“You’re the worst gay boyfriend ever,” Lea sighs, but her statement is made somewhat less convincing since it’s followed by a moan when Chris presses one hand into her shoulderblade, hard.
“Are you cheating on me again?” Ashley asks from where she’s perched on an armchair, flicking through her Twitter feed.
“The real question is whether I’m cheating on Cory with all of you,” Chris says, and Lea snorts into her pillows.
“Call me when you get into his pants,” Lea says.
“Yeah, pics or it didn’t happen, Colfer,” Ashley says.
“You’re ignoring Darren,” Lea says.
“Oh,” Chris says, and rises onto his knees. “Do you want me to do you next?”
Darren is so grateful his phone rings.
*
“I’m not normally, like, into stuff like that,” Harry tells Darren one afternoon while they’re getting ready for a show in a dressing room backstage. “Chris is kind of the exception, I guess.”
“What?” Darren says, because he feels like he missed part of the conversation. He was trying to remember the lyrics to “Raise Your Glass” because he has a tendency to fuck those up, especially if he doesn’t go over them beforehand.
“I was saying I don’t usually make out with dudes,” Harry says. “But last night there was that whole thing on the bus, and—“
“I think I was asleep,” Darren says, hoping to curtail this conversation before it gets graphic. He loves Harry, but the guy has a total lack of filters.
“Mark dared me to make out with Chris,” Harry explains. “I never turn down a dare, man.”
“Um, okay,” Darren says.
“It was kind of awesome,” Harry says happily. “Chris does this thing with his tongue which is—“
“Wow, I totally have to – go talk to someone,” Darren says, standing up so fast his head swims. “Over there. In the hallway.”
“Oh,” Harry says. “Cool. Have fun!”
Darren takes a good ten minutes doing breathing exercises in the hallway and trying not to think about Chris and Harry and things Chris is capable of with his tongue, oh god.
*
It’s been a rough month – an exhilarating month, yes, but the lack of sleep, close quarters and non-stop stimulation is starting to get to everyone. What began as dance-party-on-the-tour-bus has morphed into shots before the show, and Darren, who is normally a people person to a ridiculous extent, is starting to wish he could lock himself in his hotel room for a couple of days just to learn to breathe again.
So when Mark decides to tell him some story of how he once took an underage Chris to a gay bar and made out with him to protect him from some extremely predatory older guys, Darren snaps, “Is there anyone in this cast who hasn’t made out with Chris?”
Mark looks slightly taken aback, then seems to consider the question.
“Uh, well, dude,” he says slowly, “I mean, aside from on-camera in, like, a professional setting – you.”
Truth be told, Darren already knew the answer to that question, and he feels like an asshole for even asking it. He doesn’t know why he’s so fixated – what does it matter who Chris makes out with? It’s not like they’re dating in real life, or that Darren has any reason to be—
Darren feels his breath catch.
Shit.
*
Dublin proves to be the last straw.
On the last day of tour, everyone is a bit wild, keyed up and jittery. Darren suspects Chris will pull out all the stops during their skit, being as it could be the last time he has an open mic in front of 20,000 people. Chris loves having an audience at least as much as Darren does.
“Get ready,” Chris tells him, squeezing his arm and giving him a bright smile. It’s so adorable, Darren finds himself smiling back in spite of his exhaustion.
Chris reads a poem Kurt wrote for Blaine that is, quite frankly, brilliant. It’s funny and meta and nerdy in the best possible way. When Chris finishes and segues seamlessly into the usual proposal bit, Darren just stares at him for a moment in blatant admiration.
“C’mere,” he says, beckoning. “C’mon, get up.”
Chris hops up from the floor and steps closer, looking a bit wary.
“You had me at Emmy,” he says, and kisses him.
It’s not a prolonged kiss, no tongue or anything, but it’s enough. Chris looks so startled, it takes him a moment to realize their smooch has triggered a round of thunderous applause.
They don’t get to talk until after the show, after the autograph signing and the schmoozing and the endless parade of overexcited fans. Darren’s distracted the whole time, hoping he didn’t overstep some invisible line.
At the informal tour wrap party in Amber’s hotel room, Darren finds Chris slumped in an overstuffed armchair, holding a drink that’s mostly melted ice.
“Hey,” Darren says, settling on the arm of the chair and touching Chris’s wrist. “I hope that was okay. I mean – with the kiss.”
Chris looks up at him with tired eyes. Chris’s eyes are really beautiful. Not that Darren hasn’t noticed that before, because he and Chris spend a lot of time staring at each other as Kurt and Blaine, but he’s never quite processed it, just how pretty they are.
“Oh, no worries,” Chris says, carding a hand through his hair. “I think you won, though.”
“Won?”
“Well, I never got you to crack up,” Chris says sadly, “but you totally surprised me with that kiss.”
“You were 100% hilarious,” Darren says. “I just have a lot of experience being the straight man while people say ridiculous shit in front of me.”
Chris’s mouth quirks. “That’s true.”
They are both quiet for a minute, the pulsing hip-hop soundtrack filling in the gaps.
“You don’t want to join the party?” Darren says, gesturing to where Mark and Naya are grinding in the middle of the room while Kevin, Amber and Jenna practice a very giggly Cabbage Patch.
“I’m good,” Chris says, burrowing farther into the chair. “In fact, I think I’m never leaving this chair. Do you think I can get my mail delivered here? And also pizza?”
Darren laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I could sleep for days.”
“I wish I could,” Chris says. “I have to go back to L.A. and shoot this GD movie.”
“Oh, yeah, your life is so hard,” Darren teases. “Producer and star of a movie you wrote at 21, how will you cope?”
“Shut up,” Chris says, faux grouchy. “I was going to say I’d miss you while we’re apart, but nevermind.”
“I won’t miss you,” Darren says. “I’m staying in the UK and going to see Harry Potter before any of you do, because I rock.”
“I’ll miss everyone else,” Chris says, ignoring him. “Amber and Mark and Kevin and Lea and Cory—“
“I’ll bet you’ll miss Cory,” Darren says, before he can stop himself.
Chris’s eyebrows shoot up.
“What did you just say?”
“Oh – I –“ Darren stutters.
Chris is kind of terrifying when he narrows his eyes like that.
“No, what did you mean?” Chris says, leaning forward. “C’mon, Darren.”
“It’s just that – you guys were – and he – and then you—“
Chris tilts his head to one side. “I’m sure there’s a sentence in there somewhere.”
“You guys were making out that one time,” Darren says. “And then you said—”
Chris’s eyes widen.
“Oh God,” he says. “You – believed all that?”
Darren’s stomach drops.
“Dammit,” Chris says, cheeks going pink. “I told them it wasn’t funny anymore, but then—“
“Wait,” Darren says, still catching up. “So you’re not—“
“The tour bicycle?” Chris says, arching an eyebrow. “No. Not even a little.”
“But why—“
“It was supposed to be, like, a prank,” Chris says, “because it was your first tour, and stupid Cory thought it would be funny if you thought that I was…”
“…sleeping with everyone in the cast?” Darren finishes.
“I think it’s amazing that you thought everyone would be sleeping with me,” Chris says.
“You and Cory really did make out,” Darren says. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”
“We had to sell it somehow!” Chris says. “And it was Cory’s idea.”
Darren swallows, staring at a place on the floor where the carpet is thinning. “I thought – I mean, sexuality is fluid, not some sort of conceptual box that contains--”
“Wait, hold up, nerd,” Chris says, putting up one hand. “You don’t have to explain anything. It was incredibly dumb. We never should have let it go so far, but I assumed you understood it was a joke.”
“I didn’t,” Darren says.
Chris’s face falls. He reaches out and touches Darren’s wrist in a mirror of Darren’s earlier gesture, just above his beaded bracelet.
“I’m really sorry,” Chris says, and in that moment his sarcastic, self-deprecating façade drops away, and he looks like a sad little boy.
Darren doesn’t know what to say.
“For the record,” Chris adds, “you’re the best person I’ve ever fake made out with.”
Darren blinks up at him in surprise.
Chris looks strangely vulnerable and sweet. Darren can still feel the echo of his touch on his wrist.
Sometimes Darren thinks too much about things. Sometimes he doesn’t think enough.
He’s pretty sure he’s been thinking too much about this.
He leans down and closes the distance between them, capturing Chris’s mouth with his own. This time he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t consider boundaries or camera angles or what other people might think. He just kisses Chris, kisses him because he’s Chris, because he’s funny and witty, because he’s smart and unafraid to seem smart, because he has pretty eyes, because he can kick your ass at Scattegories and do a full back bend and dance dirty, because he sings like no one Darren’s ever heard before, because the first day they met and Darren shook his hand with a nervous tremor, Chris said, “Hey, nice to meet you, Darren! I’ve seen you on Youtube!”
They separate to breathe.
“Wow. Wow. What?” Chris stammers, but Darren just draws a deep breath and goes for it again, tugging Chris’s lower lip between his teeth, then licking where it’s swollen. He licks until Chris gasps and tangles his hand in Darren’s hair.
Darren’s not sure how long they kiss, but by the time they break apart, they’re both flushed and breathless and grinning like idiots.
“Of course I bought it,” Darren says, thumb brushing along the curve of Chris’s throat. “You’re so hot. Why wouldn’t everyone want you?”
When Chris laughs, Darren can feel the vibrations against his fingers. “I think that was part of the joke, Darren.”
“Well, that’s stupid,” Darren says. “You’re obviously everybody’s type.”
“Not everybody is my type,” Chris says.
He hitches out a breath as Darren presses his lips to Chris’s neck.
“Am I your type?” Darren asks, then scrapes his teeth over the spot he just kissed.
“If you keep doing that,” Chris says, voice thin, “then sure.”
Darren chuckles. “You gonna miss me now?”
“Hell yes,” Chris murmurs, tilting his head to the side to allow Darren better access.
“You sure your endgame wasn’t to make me jealous?” Darren asks.
“You overestimate my Machiavellian tendencies,” Chris says. “I save my strategic thinking for epic games of Parcheesi.”
“I love you,” Darren tells him, completely serious.
“That’s awesome,” Chris says, batting his eyelashes. “Do you mind if we keep this an open relationship?”
Darren climbs on top of Chris and tickles him until he begs for mercy.