It had once been a fervent wish of Chris’ to retire to his bed alone, to at least once or twice a week be able to crawl under the covers, spread his limbs out and not encounter JC’s freezing feet. To stretch and shuffle about in the bed without hearing anyone complain about misplaced covers until sleep overtook him and he settled.
He used to wish that, until JC stopped coming to his bed at all. Then, when it was too late, he began to wonder why he’d made such a big deal out of really nothing at all. He should have been happy that his lover hadn’t wanted to sleep without him, but all he’d ended up feeling was smothered. Chris was too used to his aloneness to give it up without a struggle, and he hadn’t known how to show JC that he was loved enough to make him wait Chris out.
They’d had great sex - which when Chris thought about it was maybe why JC had never let him go to bed alone – especially when JC had introduced him to the joys of sex enhanced by magic mushrooms. Everything had been that much more vivid when they’d been high. The feel of JC’s skin under his hands, the rough velvet touch of JC’s tongue sweeping up the length of his cock, the absolute fullness of JC sliding into him, and the tingle of his skin when he’d ground back against JC’s groin, hard.
They could – and did – fuck for hours when they were high, and man, had dancing been a joy after those occasions, but that hadn’t phased JC, the limber fucker who could fold his body into any angle that Chris desired. He missed that, missed feeling utterly spent, missed watching the room swarm into a swirl of colors and looking over at JC knowing he was seeing exactly the same, but most of all he missed climbing into his bed and touching cold, bony feet with his.
He wished…Chris stopped himself. His mother had a saying about wishes and horses that he’d be damned if he could remember now, but he knew that basically what it amounted to was what a waste of time it was to wish for things that were never going to happen. He should have tried harder to keep JC, to adjust his life to fit having JC in it, to make the moves in their relationship instead of letting JC do all the work.
Hell, he’d known that JC had liked the two of them occasionally tripping together, yet had he ever taken it upon himself to set the stage so that they could? Of course not. He was Chris, and as everyone knew, Chris wasn’t good at that kind of shit.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Another of his mother’s favorite sayings, only this time instead of using it as an excuse to not change, Chris thought, ‘Fuck that.’
Chris stood at JC’s door, disgruntled and not a little nervous. Who would have thought that it would have been so hard to find a couple of grams of dried mushrooms? Not him, but of course that was because he hadn’t given it a great deal of thought, as usual. He just figured he’d grab the phone, make a few calls, and presto they’d magically – no pun intended – show up on his doorstep.
Was he stupid, or was he stupid?
Chris shook his head. Yeah. Stupid.
So, here he was, hoping to coax JC and his cold feet back into his bed, with a cellophane wrapped package of grocery store, dried out mushrooms in his hand.
Chris thought – hoped – that JC would get what he was trying to say.
He rang the bell and waited. And waited. And…screw this, he was using his key. He was digging through the wide assortment of keys on the chain attached to his belt loop when the door swung open and he found himself staring at the ragged waistband of a pair of what used to be his old sweats and JC’s furry belly.
“Uhm – so I was in the neighborhood and ah…here!” Chris thrust the package of mushrooms at JC. “These are for you.”
JC looked from the mushrooms to Chris and back again, a tiny smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
“Mushrooms,” JC turned the package over in his hands. “Shitake mushrooms to be exact. Cool,” JC looked up at Chris, his expression unreadable, “I was about to throw some stir fry together and these will come in handy.”
JC watched a moth circle Chris’ head before it flew off to bat against the porch light. The night was quiet, thick with humidity, and the tension that was coming off of Chris in waves.
“So,” JC finally ventured when it looked like Chris was going to stand there all night staring at him. “Was there something else, or did you just stop by to give me these?”
“I miss your feet,” Chris blurted without thinking, and then stood there waiting for JC to laugh as he wished with all he had in him for a whole to open up under his feet and swallow him.
It took JC a minute, because while he was well versed in Chris-speak, Chris logic was quite another thing. Finally, the light dawned, and JC felt a tiny spark of life in the dead zone that used to be his heart.
“That’s it, just my feet?” he asked.
Chris sighed, he should have known that JC wasn’t going to make this easy. He might very well seem laid back and easy going on the outside, but that didn’t mean he was above making you squirm a bit for your mistakes.
“And your legs getting all tangled in mine, your hair tickling my chin, the way you always manage to end up with your pillow and mine, that stupid, cute little noise you make when you sleep.” Chris practically growled that last one. “Is that enough, or do you want me to grovel some more?”
“What I want,” JC replied, as calm as Chris was agitated, “is for you to tell me why you’re here.”
“I just told you.”
“No, you just danced around it.”
Chris threw his hands up. “Fine, you want to know why I’m here, I’ll tell you. I. Miss. You. Not your feet, or your hair, or any of that other shit. You. Y. O. U. There, okay, I said it. Are you happy now?”
JC smiled in a way that always made Chris feel as if he’d just been punched in the gut, and answered, “Yes, are you?”
Chris nodded, “Yeah, I think so.”
“You only think so?”
“Well, you know,” Chris looked down and smiled when he spotted JC’s bare feet. “It’s the whole feet thing. They’re in there, and I’m still out here.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for my feet and me, Chris? Really sure, because…”
Chris took a step without realizing he was doing it; the vulnerability in JC’s question drawing him in. “I’m sure.”
The smile came again, only this time Chris was alert enough to catch the uncertainty still lingering behind it. He used only thing he knew would erase it – complete honesty.
“I’m scared shitless, but I’m sure.”
JC’s smile – and the cold foot worming its way under his pant leg – told him that this time he’d gotten it right.