dr_robchase | [Close Encounter...]

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jay guthrie

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On the third day, Chase awoke feeling rested -- awoke to the sun already hanging precariously high in the sky, betraying the later hour of the day. He turned, sitting up and grasping his t-shirt. In the heat of the night, he'd thrown it off.

Craning his head, he tried to check the colouring of his back -- damn pale skin betrayed bruises too easily. He sighed and got up to pack up the bag, ready to head back to responsibility. As it turned out, he couldn't even escape properly for two days.

"Jay," he murmured, leaning back down to kiss Jay awake, soft kisses pressed to his shoulder, jaw, lips. "Hey, angel," he added with a smirk. "Time to go."

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Jay was an excellent sleeper. "No practice t'day," he mumbled, eyes still closed, his two worlds mixing in the fuzzy land between sleep and wakefulness. "Tell Dani stayin' in bed w'Rob."

He sleepily reached out to pull Chase back down.

Chase laughed slightly as he was pulled back down. "Rob says it's time to get up," he whispered. "It's got to be past noon!" But he still shifted and pressed against Jay's side, lying down.

"Naw," murmured Jay. "It's like... six. Sleep better'n Danger Room. Keepin' Rob." He wrapped his arms around Chase and nuzzled his face into his neck. Apparently, Jay could talk in his sleep too.

Chase rested one hand affectionately against the back of Jay's head, stroking his hair there. "Yeah, you got me," he promised, brushing a kiss to Jay's forehead. "But you have to wake up, hm?"

Finally, one eye cracked open. "Is it really mornin'?"

"More like afternoon, really," Chase mumbled, chin pressed to the middle of Jay's torso. "What were you dreaming?" he teased.

"I was havin' this dream," said Jay, drawing Chase upwards a bit, "that I was snug in my bed at the Academy-- though mind you, it was bigger, an' you were in it with me an' everyone kept tryin' to coax me outta it."

"Blasphemy," Chase reacted in mock-horror. "Why would you ever leave a bed that I'm in?" He still had his t-shirt in his hand, not having slipped into it yet.

"My dreamin' brain is usually about five steps ahead of me," said Jay with a slow smile. His eyes were slightly sad, though. "It is gonna happen. When we go back. I mean, people... goddamn, but you're popular, an' they're gonna... try."

Chase frowned. "Try and what?" he asked quietly, not sure exactly what turn the conversation had taken.

"To get me outta your bed," he said simply. "Or get you outta mine."

Suddenly, the topic was all too clear and he shifted, resting his cheek on Jay's chest. "I'm sorry," he said, finally.

"I think it's sad," agreed Jay quietly, "but not your fault." He threaded his fingers through Chase's hair, and then gently rubbed the back of his neck. "God knows I understand what it's like t'find it hard to let go of somethin', but don' change the fact that we're gonna face it."

He closed his eyes tightly, as though to ward the world away. He wished he could take them back, all the attachments and the other people, wished he'd just stayed the same old Chase and not given a damn. "I picked you, Jay," he said, because that was the important thing. "Flirting and wanting isn't having."

"No, it ain't," agreed Jay. "If'n you're sure on the havin'-- well, I may need to hear it sometimes, but," and he took Chase's hand and rested it on his chest, above his heart, "I know in here."

Chase slowly leaned down and kissed the place his hand just touched. "You," he affirmed stubbornly. "I picked you. And you know I'll be completely honest. Tell you who's been flirting so you can laugh and feel superior because you get what they want."

"A superiority complex is jus' what I need," teased Jay, with a gentle laugh. "Ain't had one in a while."

Chase just smirked. "Maybe it's well-deserved?" He sobered up though. "I won't joke that...it'll be weird. There's Sam, who's a little unstable, I made him a promise that I'd look out for him. I'm afraid of him doing something...rash," he said, glancing at Jay's wrists.

"There's Sirius and Anna, which you know about...and, well...a lot," he laughed quietly. "And there's still lingering affection there."

Chase took a deep breath, willing himself to keep going, be honest. "John Constantine, though I've been avoiding him. He spoke of being...well, fond. And Cameron apparently, though I just heard, thinks there's bad timing. Apparently, she...yeah."

He brushed his hand lightly on Jay's hip. "Then, last, but never least...Wilson and House. Well, more House than Wilson, I guess. Ever since the thing, there's been this weird tension between us." Wilson was nothing more than a confidant, Chase was firmly affirmed in that. "I just want to help him, though. We'd never do anything, really."

He gave Jay a wary glance, sitting up. "So, hate me yet?"

Jay kissed him, just hard enough to affirm that he was still in it. "Not at all," he drawled. "Ain't your fault, really, that you happen to be a hot doctor who is also jus'... well, good."

He smiled, almost amused. "I guess you're lucky I got so much experience in workin' not to care what other people think."

Chase just smirked. "I think out here, the hot doctor part goes far enough." He sat up, cross-legged. "And...I am possessive, a bit. I get jealous, but I don't mind if you flirt. It's the step after being nice."

"You care if I'm nice to people?"

"I don' mind a bit possessive," grinned Jay. "After comin' from a place where I ain't wanted, it's... nice to be wanted 'gain."

He considered the question. "Naw. I mean. It's good to be nice to people. So." He gave up on words, just smiling instead.

"So don't jump in the sack with anyone and we're fine?" Chase ventured, pulling his t-shirt on and going about packing up his bag.

"Yep," agreed Jay, still stretching lazily and moving slowly.

That changed, however when a roar ripped through the air, accompanied by a small tremor in the sand.

Jay was immediately on his feet, crouched low in a position that would make it easy to spring into action. "Rob. Finish grabbin' your stuff NOW."

Chase hurriedly packed up his bag, glancing at Jay with worry. "Jay, what the hell..."

"Now pick up my guitar," Jay instructed, reaching out to grab his own bag. He first drew the straight razor from it, and then shouldered it.

"You gotta run."

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