[Secret Santa Fic] Home For Christmas

[sungreen70.livejournal.com]

Merry (belated) Christmas to drgncrystlwlkr ! It was me :) Hope you like it...

Title: Home For Christmas
Author: Sun Green
Pairing: Greg/Chip
Rating: PG
Summary: While stranded at an airport during a snowstorm, Greg sees a new side of Chip
Disclaimer: Please, if I DID own them, do you think I'd have all this time on my hands to write fics about 'em?

The Saturday before Christmas was not the best day for air travel, Greg reflected grumpily, shifting uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair. Especially in the middle of a storm that delayed one’s flight for – so far – close to two hours. He drew his feet out of the way of a pair of shrieking children chasing each other through the packed waiting area, and sighed. 

Turning his head to look out the windows at the heavily falling snow, Greg was momentarily startled to catch sight of Chip beside him. He’d been so quiet Greg had actually forgotten he was there – a rare event.  

They were taking the same flight back to LA. The tour had wrapped up last night, here in – Greg had to think a moment to remember where they were – oh, yes, Wisconsin. Ryan had rented an SUV for the long drive to Washington. Jeff had gotten on a red-eye immediately after the show to his parents’ house, leaving Greg and Chip to make their way to LAX, where Greg had booked a connecting flight to San Francisco that he wasn’t going to make now. He wasn’t sure what Chip’s final destination was.  

Greg hadn’t exactly been looking forward to traveling with Chip. He had nothing against him in small doses, with Ryan and Jeff as buffers. But on the rare occasions that they’d spent more than several minutes alone in each other’s company, Chip's relentless exuberance inevitably had Greg gritting his teeth and seeking the first available excuse to escape.  

Though that hadn’t been the case today. Greg cast a sideways glance at Chip, wondering whether he’d been asleep. But Chip’s eyes were open, wandering around their surroundings with little interest as he slumped down on the chair next to Greg’s, hands shoved in his coat pockets. Feeling Greg’s gaze, Chip looked over and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head ruefully. Before either of them could speak, an airline employee tapped on the microphone at the customer service desk. Her amplified voice broke into the hum of chatter from the crowd.

“Attention all passengers. Due to the inclement weather, all flights from General Mitchell International Airport are canceled until further notice.” 

A groan went up from the crowd, Greg adding his own dismay to the chorus. The woman continued speaking over the hubbub, giving instructions for passengers to come to the customer service desk for assistance with hotel reservations. Greg smacked the armrest of his chair in frustration. 

Beside him, Chip sighed. Meeting Greg’s eyes, he spoke for the first time in a long while. “Now what?” 

Greg checked out the line forming at the customer service desk. Already it snaked through the length of the waiting area, winding around the chairs and growing ever longer as passengers from all over the airport hurried to join it, determined to get themselves situated for the evening. “We’ll be here all night,” he groused.  

“You want to get a drink?” Chip suggested, nodding his head in the direction of the main concourse.  

Greg shrugged. “Okay.” If he was going to spend several more hours here, he might as well have some booze in him. They rose stiffly from the uncomfortable chairs, shouldering their carry-on bags, and pressed past the mobs of people still hurrying towards the customer service desk.  

The airport bar was nearly empty, a quiet haven after the chaos of the rest of the terminal. Chip ordered a beer and Greg started to ask for his usual vodka and tonic, but hesitated as he spotted a small blackboard behind the bar, advertising peppermint schnapps in red and green chalk. He nodded towards the sign. “I’ll take one of those.” Chip glanced over at him and smiled. It was the first smile Greg had seen from him all day, he suddenly realized.  

“How Christmas-y,” Chip remarked. 

Greg shrugged, embarrassed, as the bartender set the glass in front of him. “My father always keeps this in the house for the holidays.” 

Chip chuckled, raising his beer bottle to Greg in a toast. “Aw, that’s sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” Greg clinked his glass against Chip’s bottle and sipped his drink, the familiar taste mellowing him and keeping a biting retort at bay. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the strains of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas over the bar’s sound system floating over the low murmur of conversation from other customers. Greg wasn’t even aware that he was humming along under his breath until he noticed Chip watching him with amusement. Greg’s cheeks flushed and he trailed off.  

Chip was grinning broadly, looking like his usual self. “Why, Greg! Is that the Christmas spirit I see in you?” 

Greg sighed. “All right, all right. You’ve discovered my deep, dark secret. I like Christmas, okay? I like being with my family, and buying presents, and sappy Christmas carols. I have a lot of good memories associated with it. There, you happy now?” 

Chip laughed. “Who would have guessed? Deep down you’re just a sentimental fool.” 

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” 

“Fair enough.” Chip raised his bottle again, and after a moment, Greg clinked his glass against it. A grudging smile tugged at his lips as he met Chip’s eyes. He took another swallow of the sweet liquor. It hit his stomach with a pleasant warmth, relaxing him. 

“So what are you doing for the holidays?” he asked Chip. 

Chip’s smile disappeared. “Nothing,” he answered shortly.  

Greg looked up, but Chip was busily peeling the label off his beer bottle.  

“Well, where are you headed?” 

“Home.” 

“By yourself?” 

“Yep.” 

Greg studied Chip curiously. Hunched over his beer, he gripped the bottle too tightly. Feeling Greg’s gaze, Chip jerked his head up and glared at him. 

“What?” he demanded, a harsh note in his voice that startled Greg. Uncomfortably, he shrugged.  

“Nothing,” he said, holding up his hand in a pacifying gesture. “Just…” He looked helplessly at Chip. “… are you okay?” 

Chip exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping. “I’m fine,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry,” he added. He shrugged slightly. “It’s the holidays. They get to me.”

“You?” Greg didn’t mean for his voice to sound so incredulous, but he couldn’t help it.  

Chip threw him a wry glance. “Yeah. Me.” 

“I always thought... well, assumed... you love it.” 

“Everyone assumes that.”  

“Well, yeah,” Greg said cautiously. “I mean, at Drew’s Christmas party, you were the one running around with the mistletoe making everyone kiss you, and it was your idea to have a snowball fight with the crushed ice from the margarita machine. And you accomplished all that while wearing reindeer antlers. Far as I could tell, you love everything about it.” 

Chip took a deep swallow of his beer. “I’m an actor, remember?”  

“Yeah… a damn good one, if you really don’t like Christmas.” 

“I fucking hate it.” Chip’s voice was quiet but the words were so vehement that Greg stared at him in astonishment.  

“Why?” 

Chip sighed, and looked up at Greg apologetically. “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just in a crappy mood.” He smiled briefly and returned his attention to his beer. Greg continued to watch him, confounded by this change from the eternally upbeat Chip he knew. 

“Hey…” he said awkwardly, when he found his voice. “If you want to… you know… talk about it…”  

Chip gave him another small smile. “That’s okay. Thanks.”  

It would have been simpler to accept Chip’s refusal and left it at that. But, struck by the unfamiliar sadness in Chip’s face, Greg couldn’t seem to let it go. He pushed against Chip’s shoulder with his own. “You sure?” 

With a slow release of breath, Chip turned on his barstool to face Greg. Greg was taken aback at the sight of Chip’s face, tense with barely contained anger. His voice was controlled, but the emotion was apparent as the words came tumbling out, so fast that Greg could barely keep up. “Look, Greg - I have a lot of Christmas memories too. But mine aren’t such good ones. We didn’t play Bing Crosby songs in our house at Christmas time. We couldn’t play any music, because my mother was always sleeping. Clinical depression does that to a person. She never managed to stay awake through an entire Christmas day... especially since she spent the few hours she was awake crying her eyes out. And my father didn’t keep a bottle of peppermint schnapps in the house for Christmas either. It wouldn’t have lasted through the holiday season once he got his hands on it. A bottle of the hard stuff would only last him an hour or two, so he’d have to keep buying more. Usually with the money that was supposed to be for Christmas presents – that really blows when you’re a little kid. It doesn’t matter as much when you’re in college. By that time you’re used to it. But the going on a drunk rampage and telling you he regrets that you were ever born? On the one day out of the year you even see him? That still sucks, even in your thirties. And that’s why I haven’t gone home for Christmas in almost ten years.” 

Greg could only stare, dumbfounded. “Chip…” he began, but trailed off helplessly. There wasn’t anything to say. Chip prevented him from trying to speak any further by holding up a hand and shaking his head.  

“Forget it,” he said. The adrenaline had gone out of him, and now he only sounded sad. He turned away from Greg, lowering his eyes to his beer bottle.  

Greg couldn’t take his eyes off him. “Geez, Chip. I had no idea.”

“It’s not something I go around telling people.” Chip chuckled mirthlessly. “Why should I bum everyone else out too?” He picked up the beer, tilting it back to swallow the last drops while Greg sat motionless beside him, trying to take in the picture Chip had just painted of his life. It didn’t mesh with the Chip he knew. Or thought he knew. Part of the reason Chip so often irritated him was the falseness of his persistent joviality. Greg had always figured no one could really be that happy all the time. As it turned out, he’d been right. He exhaled slowly, eyeing Chip appraisingly.  

“Come on,” he said abruptly, sliding off his stool. Chip looked up, startled. 

“What?”

Greg jerked his head towards the exit. “Come on,” he repeated. After a moment, Chip rose and followed him out of the bar, trudging after him. Greg wandered through the long corridor and down the escalator until he reached the heavy glass doors leading to the cab drop off area. A gust of wind blew through Greg’s coat and drove snow into his face, making him hesitate. But once the gale passed, it didn’t feel quite as cold. The snow had lessened, falling in soft flakes that stuck to Chip’s hair and sparkled under the outdoor floodlights. Gesturing for Chip to follow, Greg stepped off the curb and headed past the rows of cars in the long term parking lot.  

“Where are we going?” Chip asked finally, wrapping his wool muffler more snugly around his neck. Greg spotted what he was looking for, and pointed.  

“Over there.” He led Chip to a low chain link fence at the end of the lot, separating the parked cars from a snow-covered stretch of grass. Across the way he could see several planes on a runway. Greg leaned over, his elbows on the fence. He peered up at the sky and then back at the runway. Yes, this was perfect. He turned to meet Chip’s questioning gaze. 

“When I was a kid, we lived near an airport. Close enough so we could see planes taking off. They’d go right over our neighborhood, all day and night, loud as hell but we were so used to it we didn’t notice. Except sometimes – well, there was this empty lot near our house that they always passed over, so low that they blocked out the sun, and you could see the wheels. You felt like you could touch it if you reached up. Like you were huge, and powerful - big enough to grab a plane right out of the sky.” Greg smiled, briefly lost in the memory. He looked back at Chip who was watching him curiously, and faltered.  

“Anyway… it was exciting, you know, and somehow – well, any time I was sad or upset about something… if I’d gotten in trouble or had a bad day at school, I’d go over to the empty lot and just lie back in the grass and watch the planes take off. It was… I don’t know. It helped. It always made me feel better.” Greg trailed off, embarrassed. He’d never told anyone that story before. He knew it was silly, just a dumb thing he’d done as a kid. And yet the memory meant too much to him to risk sharing it with anyone. Until now. Though he couldn’t quite put into words why Chip, of all people, was the one that he wanted to share this with – wanted to give this to him to try to erase some of his sadness. Greg was still trying to figure it out when Chip spoke. 

“That’s cool, Greg.” Greg’s eyes darted to Chip’s face, but there was no trace of mockery there. Chip nodded, his expression serious, understanding. “Really.” He drew in a deep breath of frigid air, visibly relaxing. He reached over and gave Greg’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Thanks for telling me about it.” 

Greg found that he couldn’t meet Chip’s eyes, but he smiled. “Anytime.” Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze upward. “Now, when a plane takes off, stand still with your head back -” 

“Greg?” Chip broke in.  

“Yeah?” Greg was still scanning the sky.  

“All the planes are grounded, remember?” 

Greg blinked into the darkness before slowly turning his head to face Chip. Chip’s expression was amused, but tempered with affection.  

“…oh…” Greg said. “Right.” He sighed. “Crap.” 

Chip smiled then, a smile that Greg didn’t recall ever seeing before. It wasn’t the broad grin he was used to, the one that was nearly always plastered over Chip’s face like a mask. This smile was quieter, less obvious. But it was genuine. As he looked into Chip’s eyes, Greg was startled to realize that for all the times he’d seen Chip smile or laugh, this was the first time he’d ever seen him look happy.  

Chip touched Greg’s wrist, his gloved fingers warm against the exposed skin below the end of Greg’s sleeve. The smile was in his voice, too. “But thanks for bringing me here, anyway.” 

Greg snorted. “For all the good it did.” 

“No,” Chip insisted. “It did.” He gave Greg that smile again. The genuine one. “I like seeing your sentimental side. Hell, I never knew you had one. And just that – that you were letting me see it, and you were going to do this for me -” He gestured towards the motionless airplanes. “It helped.” He looked back at Greg. “Thanks.” 

Greg smiled, a bit shyly. He liked seeing the other side of Chip too. Well, not that he liked knowing that Chip was sad, but, that he was… human. Or something. Hell, he didn’t know. He couldn’t put it into words, anyway. But from the way Chip was looking at him, Greg had a feeling he understood.  

Before things could get too sappy, Greg dropped his eyes and changed the subject. He nodded towards the terminal building. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what we’re going to do for the night.” 

The time they’d lost in making their hotel reservations meant that the pickings were slim. The airline could find only one available room in the area. “That’s all right,” Greg said, when Chip looked at him questioningly. “We’ll share.” Chip smiled and let Greg continue with the arrangements.

Not only was their room the last one left in town, it had just one king-sized bed. They both paused upon entering the room. Then with a glance at each other, they wordlessly began peeling off their wrinkled traveling clothes. Greg started to unzip his suitcase to hunt for a pair of pajamas, but when Chip simply slid under the covers in boxers and T-shirt, he followed suit, too tired to bother. 

He turned his head on the pillow and came face to face with Chip. In the sliver of moonlight cast across the bed, he could see his expression clearly. It was calm, more peaceful than Greg was used to seeing. As their eyes met, Chip gave him that genuine, open smile – the one that didn’t hide the real person underneath. The Chip he hadn’t known existed before tonight. The Chip he wanted to get to know better. Greg studied him with newfound interest. 

“You look different without your glasses,” Chip commented, breaking the silence.  

Greg blinked at the randomness. “I guess so.”

“I like it.” Chip held his gaze for a long moment. Then Greg’s breath caught in his throat as Chip slowly put out his hand and cupped his cheek. His touch was surprisingly soft, warm and gentle against Greg’s skin. Just as slowly, Greg slipped his hand behind Chip’s head, running his fingers through his hair before pulling him closer. They paused with their faces inches apart, long enough for Greg to take in Chip’s expression, calm and open without its’ protective smile as a mask. Chip was studying Greg just as closely, making Greg wonder what he was discovering there. Before he could dwell on it, their lips came together. The kiss was brief, and when they drew apart, they stayed frozen into place, staring at each other wonderingly. Until Chip smiled that smile again and reached for Greg, gently tugging him down on top of him.  

******

Chip fell asleep first, his body curled snugly against Greg’s. Greg lay awake with his arm across Chip’s chest, taking note of how Chip was completely relaxed for the first time all evening. For the first time since he’d known him, Greg realized. He tightened his grasp and dozed off, breathing in Chip’s warm, sweaty scent.  

They woke nearly simultaneously the next morning, their eyes seeking one another out. Chip smiled, tentatively, but it was the new smile – new to Greg, at least. “Hi.”

“Hi.” They lay grinning each at each other, a bit awkward, but deeply content. Chip shifted his gaze over Greg’s shoulder.  

“Think we’ll get out of here today?” 

Greg followed his glance to the window. The snow had stopped, and the sun was shining. “Looks good. Of course all the flights will be backed up after last night.” 

Chip shrugged. “Oh well. I’m not in a hurry.” His hands traveled idly down Greg’s bare back. Greg looked at him speculatively. 

“Hey, Chip,” he said suddenly. “Why don’t you come with me? For Christmas, I mean…” 

Chip looked back at him, startled. “Oh… I don’t know, Greg.”

Greg pushed himself up on his elbows, the idea taking hold as he spoke. “Look, I know how you feel about it. But that’s all the more reason. Staying home by yourself with those memories eating at you… thinking about it the whole time… that’s just going to make it harder.”

Chip shrugged. “I’m not going to not think about it. Wherever I am.” He softened a little as he brushed a stray lock of hair back from Greg’s face. “Or whoever I’m with.” 

“I know, but… this way you have something else to think about. Something good. And then you’ll have those memories to help you through it next time.” He smiled ruefully. “For Christ’s sake, Chip, if I can have Christmas spirit, anyone can.” 

Chip laughed, but didn’t answer immediately. Greg could see him considering his words, gazing thoughtfully over Greg’s shoulder to the window. Greg touched his face lightly.  

“Maybe it’s time to start changing what Christmas means to you.”

Chip glanced back at him briefly, then out the window again. Greg fell silent, watching Chip’s face until he saw what he was waiting for. That smile, spreading across his face once more as he turned back to Greg. An answering smile crossed Greg’s face as Chip nodded. 

“Maybe.”