Chill Out!

The sequel to The Practical Consequences of Grinding In Hooves. ~15,200 words, part 2 of 3, the third part should be up at the end of April or early May, depending.

Between one thing and another, Halloween ends up not happening. 

It’s a busy day of filming, Will sends his regrets via text, and then Ashley shows up and Chris is being dragged out with a whole Glee contingent to a party. There’s more texting, back and forth all night of “where are you now,” but by 12:30 everybody is tired - it’s Halloween, but it’s also just another Wednesday night, and November is going to be a scheduling nightmare. By the time he’s buckled into Ashley’s car and they’re pulling into traffic, he’s not really all that disappointed - there’s too much to do, too much to occupy his head, to be that worried over one missed connection. He’s had too much quiet time, maybe - it’s time to get back to work.

After they drop Chord off, Ashley says, “you’re quiet.” Just like that. He waits for the next part, the joke, and instead it’s just the radio turned down low.

 He runs his fingers through his hair and says, “I’m just tired. I think I had too much to drink, and I still have a lot to do this week.”

And the horrible thing is that it isn’t even a lie.

There was a few requests for some somnophilia, so here you go!

It’s the worst on long work days, when their schedules don’t fit together nicely so it ends up that Chris can’t see Will at lunch or Chris can’t be home for dinner. Will has to go into work early and Chris stays late and it’s frustrating as hell when all he wants to do is be with him in every capacity. That can’t be too much to ask, can it?

They flirt endlessly all day over text messages to make up for it. Until Will turns it into something more.

“Want you to fuck me when you get home.” Will sends. “Been thinking about it all. day.” Chris bites back a groan as he sits on his cast chair during a break while the crew resets the scene and types back a reply. “I want to so bad. We are resetting the scene. Again. Don’t think I will be home until late, you’ll long be in bed.”

“Don’t care.” Will replies. ”Still want it when you get home.”

It feels like the first day of summer vacation.  Glee wrapped for the season two weeks ago, and Chris partied first with the cast, then without the cast, and then with the cast again because he missed them. Then he’d let himself sleep, not realizing quite how exhausted he was until he got eight hours two nights in a row. Then it was ten hours, eleven hours.

Will left him to it, rattling around the first floor of the house or staying out of his boyfriend’s hair entirely.  The sleep was needed and necessary, and he was relieved it was even possible.

But Chris is both rested and conscious now and as close to loose ends as he ever gets, which is why they’re driving down to Santa Monica for a run at seven a.m. on a fucking Saturday. 

It’s so early Will isn’t even nursing a hangover yet, although he probably should be.  They’ll park in one of the lots right off the highway about as far from the pier as they can get, and Chris will shift from bare foot to bare foot on the hot asphalt, cursing as Will insists on using all his random loose change to pay the eight dollar fee on the muni meter.

@thecameroncash Love these boys. @chillwithwill @samuelb1984 @brianjosephgillespie et al!

“Could you maybe stop doing that?” Chris looks up, startled and instantly confused because he has no idea what Will means. Before he can even ask, Will’s sock-clad toes resume what they’ve been doing for the last ten minutes. They trace up the inside of Chris’s calf while Will himself clicks his tongue, frowns and looks back down at his newspaper. Chris stares at him for several more seconds, frowning to himself as he wonders what just happened and whether he needs to ask. But his coffee beckons as does the script in front of him so when Will doesn’t look up again, choosing to continue to brush behind Chris’s knee beneath the table, Chris mentally shrugs it off and goes back to reading. It’s not the first time Will has made it known he’s displeased about the most inane of things and then promptly gotten over it.

Warning for infidelity (not on each other)

Every time, he’s already told himself it won’t happen. Because it won’t. That’s not who he is, and worse, he knows that’s not who Will is. This was never the plan. But when he’s here — mouth so hungry under Will’s, body feeling taut strung and so alive over Will’s body, limbs tangled and surging into and against this incredible heat, this friction of always wanting more than they can get — he’s not thinking that it’s wrong. Because it doesn’t feel wrong. “We shouldn’t-” He breaks away from Will, gasping, trying to offer some token protest, “Please don’t.” Will has his hand, trembling but somehow so confident, cupping Chris’ cheek and bringing their mouths together with a bite and a moan.   So he doesn’t.

Heads up in case this is not your thing, this is daddykink fic. You have been warned.

“How was your day, baby?” Will asks as Chris walks through the door.

Chris sighs heavily and pouts as he makes his way over to Will where he’s sitting on the couch. Noticing Chris’s displeasure he takes the laptop from his lap and sets it on the living room table.

“It wasn’t good, Daddy.” He says, his lower lip shiny and red. Will’s eyes visibly darken at the phrase. He wasn’t expecting this right now, but if it’s what Chris needs he is definitely not going to refuse. 

“What happened, sweetie? Tell Daddy.” Will extends his hand and helps Chris into his lap. Will cards his hands into Chris’s hair and scratches softly at his scalp and the back of his neck. Chris visibly relaxes, sighs again and leans into Will’s chest. 

“It was such a hard day. We were in dance rehearsal all day and my whole body hurts.” He whines.

“Oh your poor thing.” He coos, rubs the soft thin skin of Chris’s neck just under his ear with the pad of his thumb. “You want Daddy to kiss it better?”

“History?” Will had asked Chris at a party once, one of the first they’d been to together, after Darren had stopped talking to somebody to give them both a wide-eyed look when they’d walked in. “History,” Chris had just repeated, and rolled his eyes and grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him off to dance. Will hadn’t asked again - it’s a weird group and a weirder life, sometimes things happen, and whatever had or had not happened had nothing to do with him. “It’s not about that,” Chris had said weeks later, like it was some sort of explanation, after Darren had kissed him on the cheek on his way out of the house, so late at night it was early, music and people still moving through the rooms.

“I think I did something weird in my sleep last night.” “What else is new honey?” Will says around a mouthful of lo mein. “Shut up, asshole.” Chris kicks him lightly under the table.

Prompt: Will and Chris hook up for the first time (I imagine this being quite early on, and not like a big deal, maybe after a few drinks?), and cue curious/embarrassing/teasing friends the day after. Plus some personal headcanon stuff after reading the tag. 7,300+ words. Enjoy! :)

In September, Ashley gives him a heads up. “A little birdie told me Will and his man are on the rocks,” Ashley whispers as she presses a cold drink to his palm. Chris glances over and Will does seem to be a bit closed off, guarded. His smile’s not reaching his eyes. “Get ready, tiger,” Ashley adds with a smirk and an exaggerated wink, and Chris just shakes his head, filing away the info. In October, it actually happens. “Splitsville,” Ashley mouths over Will’s head a few weeks before Halloween when he walks into his kitchen to find them gathering pumpkin carving supplies. Chris’s eyebrows jump to his hairline and he schools his face into a smile when Will turns back around, smacking Ashley hard once they’re alone together for springing it on him like that. “When?” he asks quietly, holding her back as they watch everyone else gathered around his table from just behind the doorway. She tilts her head backwards towards the kitchen, hair falling in her face to hide their gossip, and replies, “Few weeks back. Told ya so. Let me know if you need a wingman, buddy.” She shoves at his shoulder and leaves him to join the others, the wheels already turning in his head. In November, he plans to pounce.

Chris was a man on a mission. Tonight was the night. He had tequila (thoughtfully provided by Ashley, ever the good host), he had a wingman (again, thoughtfully provided by Ashley in the form of herself), and very importantly, he had on the jeans (while not quite provided by Ashley, she’d definitely aided and abetted). All he had to do now was follow through. It was a fool proof, three pronged plan of attack. “Here you go.” He looked up, startled from his stressful musings, when Ashley set down a shot glass. “Liquid courage.” “Shut up.” They weren’t speaking loudly enough to be heard — it was rambunctious enough in there that they’d really have to raise their voices for that — but still.  He was going for stealthy. Mature. Sexy, even.

This is the best way to wake up.

Not to an incessantly beeping alarm and darkness outside. Not to his phone buzzing with yet another updated call-sheet demanding a sixteen-hour day. Not to writing deadlines that mean his mind throbs deliciously upon waking, ideas making his fingers itch.

It’s almost reflexive to lean across to his bedside table, find his computer and attempt to write a few pages before breakfast. But the inclination doesn’t surface because with Chris’s first waking breath, deep and with a groan, the mouth on his inner thigh sucks harder. Chris’s mind loops back to what pulled him from sleep and then the mouth shifts, wet lips over his cock and Chris really couldn’t give two fucks about writing anything right now.

While Chris is a terrible sleeper, his trouble has always started when he’s unconscious (sleep walking, sleep shopping, nightmares, you know, the good stuff), not when he’s trying to get there.  A long event day with a decent amount of alcohol and some good sex despite it is normally enough for sleep to find him quickly.  But Will’s on his back next to him and wide awake, and because that is severely not normal (Will sleeps on his side, always, regardless of whether he’s curled around Chris or not), Chris can’t sleep either despite being nearly miserably tired.

They get back late, though not as late as Will expected. There’s something to be said for parties starting in the afternoon during awards season, as well as parties that keep alcohol flowing freely for hours on end. They’re all drunk by the time the car drops Ashley off at her place, but not sloppy, just that lovely place where everything’s just brighter and warmer around the edges of reality. Chris and Will fuck slow and easy once they’re home, and as they’re drifting off around two am, Chris says softly, “I’m glad you came with me tonight.” A moment of sincerity. “Me too,” Will replies around a yawn, and he wants to add he’s glad he took the next day off but he’s too exhausted to bother. A few hours later, he wakes to his phone vibrating. He looks at the clock on Chris’s nightstand - seven fifty-three - and starts to panic momentarily, because he should be in the shower and getting ready for work until the night comes rushing back to him and he remembers. He didn’t set the alarm, so whoever is calling or texting will eventually stop. He glances over at Chris, still sleep-rumpled, eyes shut and lips slightly parted (so fucking hot, it’s unreal), before faceplanting back into his own pillow. His head is reminding him that he drank a lot and slept very little. Except, it doesn’t stop. It keeps going off. It just won’t shut up.