One Shot: Half Empty, Half Full

[draconica-nova.livejournal.com]

Title: Half Empty, Half Full
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Brad/Chip
Warnings: Mentions of sex, mild swearing.
Word Count: 1,919
Summary: Two lovers, reunited.

Author's Notes: I never really understood why some people dislike Chip as a performer…


It’s a fine looking restaurant I’ve chosen, with not much in the way of distractions for us to marvel at. This dinner will not be plagued by the outside world – it shall just be him and I and the table between.

He keeps a busy schedule these days, so why has he agreed to put things on hold for a little nostalgic meal with myself? I’d love to tell you that it’s because he simply wants to see me, but that would’ve been too easy. I know the intimate ways in which his mind works – he’ll block out anything sentimental for humour. Maybe a boyish joke here and there, a smattering of a cheeky smile.

I turn to the door of the restaurant, expectant of his figure striding in sheepishly as the bell rings in indication of someone’s entrance. But no, instead it’s a young couple with their arms entwined and seeking a pleasant evening together. I remember those days of mine with seemingly a new girlfriend each week, getting steadily blonder I noticed. If you saw the photographs of myself back then, you wouldn’t have guessed that he’d grow up to become father of three, husband of a loving woman.

“Very romantic place.”

My God, he’s standing right next to me? When did he get here? I hadn’t even noticed the hand on my shoulder until he had spoken. I look up at him with a start, mindful that my mouth is probably gaping to the point where someone might mistake my jaw of being naturally slack.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I reply cautiously, not wanting to sound too pleased to see him. After all, it had been a long time. My grin is natural as I stand to greet him properly with hand outstretched, the other ready to pull him into a hug as soon as he grasps it. And as we shake, he smiles that smile… the one that causes the laughter lines around his eyes to thicken and deepen but in a mesmerising sort of way. There are some flakes of snow on his shoulders and it tickles my blushing cheeks as I briefly dare to rest my head there, patting his back heartily.

“Brad,” I acknowledge warmly. “You’re looking good.”

“I’m looking terrible,” he corrects and shrugs off his jacket. “I found my first gray hair this morning. I guess I’m only two tours away from starting to look like Colin.”

I disagree with him and he knows it, so I say nothing and instead take pleasure in the way he draws out my laughter so naturally. “You should see Greg. Hair out to here.” I exaggerate my hands above my head and earn a smile from him.

The waitress chooses this instant to approach and hand us our menus, which I hope takes focus off me for the moment so that I can gather up my demeanour with a few deep breaths. The last time I saw his face was when he walked out of that hotel room, leaving my naked, sleepy form on the bed behind him to wonder eternally when he’d be back. There had been many letters and phone calls in between, certainly, but nothing that let me see his face or the eyes I thought I’d fallen in love with. The moment I learnt of his decision to marry Seana was when my eyes fell onto the words of his letter two years ago. We’ve never mentioned it since, not even to other people. Even now it seems like a lost cause to bring up and would sound like an excuse to have something to talk about that we could both relate to.

I think during that lapse, I must’ve ordered a drink, but I can’t for the life of me recall what I had said. Brad’s looking at me though, his eyes amused.

“Nothing stronger? My impression of you has faltered, Chip.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name in over two years, in person at least, and I have to swallow back a strong sense of emotion. Though I’m not sure what it is.

“So… how’s Seana?” I’m playing that card so soon?

He bites his lip slightly and leans back, folding his arms. “Just fine. Celebrating a year of marriage next month. I just can’t believe she hasn’t gotten sick of the sight of me yet.”

Who would?

I’ve just noticed that I’m twirling my fork absently, letting my eyes drift to the way his biceps bulge when he folds his arms like that. With a slight shake of my head I’m back in the room.

“How’s Patty?” he asks in the same vein. “And the kids?”

With a nod to the sky, I reply. “As good as gold.”

In a sudden change of mood, he tilts his head slightly to one side and looks at me like he’s sussing me out, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Have I got something on my face? Something between my teeth perhaps?

But no. With another of his smiles he diverts his eyes to the menu before him.

It’s not long before the drinks arrive and I discover that I’ve ordered lemonade. Okay, sure, whatever. As long as it cures my sudden cottonmouth, anything is fine. Brad orders the medium steak with vegetables. “Make that two,” I say to the waitress when she turns to me, pen poised above her little notepad. And just like that we’re alone again, with only some airy piano music and the clinking of nearby cutlery to keep us company.

Would it be so wrong I wonder to reach out and rest my hand on his cheek? Maybe to rub my thumb over his lips like I used to do when our love was young? My fingers would be tickled by his silly sideburns, as would my temple if I lean over to kiss his neck, the way his jawline curves like sleek silver.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

His statement jolts me from reverie and I look at him in bewilderment. When did his eyes get so soft, so dark? “You’ve… missed me?”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” he chuckles and reaches for his glass of beer. “Thought I’d get in there first.”

I look away with a knowledge untarnished that he can read me like large print black and white. “Shit, Brad. Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

He draws me in again, turning my attention back to the matter of us. His face is intense yet cautious and deliberate and I’m suddenly flashed back to our nights together as “us”.

The first time was almost comical in the way we enjoyed discovering each other and how neither of us knew quite what to do. But the first time we reached ecstasy was anything but amusing – I remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday. I looked up into his eyes as he looked down into mine, and we never broke that gaze once as we reached cloud nine together, curling up sleepily in each other’s arms once we’d finished.

It wasn’t just making love, it was living. Every time felt like a rebirthing inside of me.

“Brad, I…”

When I rub my face with my now sweaty palm, he frowns at me in realisation and rubs the back of his head nervously. “Sorry, Chip.”

“It’s been two years,” I comment.

He nods. “It has.”

“And you’ve missed me, huh?” I try a smile but don’t get one in return – I seemed to have turned him morose.

“I don’t regret a single second of marriage,” he adds, his fingers turning the glass in his hands. “But I do wonder about you and me… a lot.”

I nod, finishing for him. “What might’ve been.”

Thankfully, the food chooses this moment to arrive, breaking our mutual thought chain for the time being. I can see that over the years his appetite hasn’t fallen one iota as he begins dissecting his meal and I can only laugh, naturally. He’s not fussy when it comes to food. He commented on my taste once, something about the taste of heaven, something that I sheepishly rebuffed at the time.

The meal is swift, uneventful and delicious, so I see. And I have the sneakiest feeling that if we weren’t so pressed for time then Brad would’ve ordered desserts. Plural.

“I think it’s still snowing outside,” he says as we both stand, almost synchronised in pulling on our jackets.

“Damn January,” I respond and smile with genuine happiness.

A brisk wind makes a welcome change to my cheeks as we both step outside and head for the parking lot down the road, our shoulders brushing together wordlessly in a feign attempt at keeping vaguely warm. The sound of snow crunching beneath my feet with every step takes me even further back to the day I first met him.

I think it was a Christmas party in London. All I remember was that it was snowing and that Ryan was there. Maybe Clive and Greg too, but I don’t know for sure. It was as I was stepping outside the hotel for a smoke that I bumped into Brad, already lighting up. I’d seen him there before, but not up close. So close I could see the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and the flirting redness of his cheeks. He grinned at me, thick dark hair flopping forwards and it was that moment I knew. I knew it would be like this.

As I come back to the present I notice that we’re now at our cars, smiling when I realise that Brad has parked next to me. Naturally.

And then he turns to me, a single gaudy streetlamp above us, and I can see those snowflakes again, peppering his hair and eyelashes decoratively. I swallow instantly.

“Thank you, Chip,” he says quietly, coming dangerously close to me. “This was nice.”

I can’t find any words so I simply nod, never leaving that look in his eyes. Before I know it, his hand has found mine somewhere along the way and it curls into mine snugly, as perfect a fit as it used to be. His eyes slip shut and I do the same, neither of us moving any closer or further apart, simply enjoying our warm proximity amongst the cold air.

I don’t know who leans in first, but our lips meet in the middle, capturing a snowflake between them. It’s still wonderful, enchanting and everything I associate with a lover’s kiss. For a moment, it’s like we’ve never been apart – soon he’ll be leading me up to the hotel room, maybe pouring me a drink first before laying me onto the bed, still kissing me.

The past breaks free from the present as he pulls away from me slowly, his eyes unblinking. He sighs then, before taking a few steps back.

“Bye,” he murmurs softly, one side of his mouth upturned in happiness as I look on.

“Yeah. Goodbye.”

It feels like a millennia goes past before he gets into his car and starts to drive away. My heart begins to lurch, but I manage to keep myself contained and not do something stupid like run after him and throw myself in front of the headlights.

It’s a strange feeling as I watch the taillights of his car slowly disappear into the misty snowfall, but I’m no stranger to it.

Maybe it really is a lost cause.

Fin.