Disclaimer:
We do not know Craig Charles or Chris Barrie; we only know the public image they present in various public appearances. This is an entirely fictional story, wherein is presented fictionalized versions of those publicly projected personalities. What is presented in this story does not necessarily reflect what we think even of those projected images. What the actors themselves are like, we have not a clue, and furthermore, it is none of our business. We would never suggest or presume to know anything about them, or their personal lives. Rather, this story takes their images and plays with them within a fictionalized universe. It is a fantasy, and nothing more. The same goes for any and all names and/or public personas used and/or mentioned in this story.

The crowd was not large, but the flat was not large, either, and the party felt like a mass of too-close elbows and too-ready-to-trip feet. Still, the elbows and the feet belonged to interesting and fun people, so Danny did not mind too much. Many of them were people he had not seen in a year or more; most had been involved in Red Dwarf at one time or another, as this was a one-year unofficial quasi-reunion party. It had been Craig's idea, of course, and he had donated his near-Shepperton flat for the purpose. Danny did wonder why the man still had the flat, a year after the last season, with no new season in sight.

Danny had been nursing his drink all evening. Getting drunk would likely bring his petulance to the forefront. He had seen Craig more recently than a year ago - but nonetheless, the infrequency and the brevity of their meetings were irritating. Craig's attention was a potent thing, and he felt the lessening of the man's friendship keenly. Even at the party, with its close quarters, Craig still had not voluntarily sought him out. There was something disconcerting about hearing the man laughing at someone else's jokes all evening. Finally giving up on waiting, Danny excused himself from the conversational circle he was in, and looked over the crowd for a head of tightly curly dark brown hair.

It was rather a good story, Craig thought, as he repeated it for what was probably the fifth or so time that evening. It was becoming more and more clear, however, that somewhere along the line he had forgotten how it ended. Not one to be upset by such minor things, Craig shrugged in apology, and turned his head to see a familiar face. Oh yes, Dan was here! Grinning widely, Craig turned to greet him, overcome by that warm glow seeing good friends always gave him, intensified, no doubt, by the fairly impressive amount of alcohol he had thus far consumed.

Danny made his way through the crowd genially, not hurrying, finally winding up next to Craig. The man was already pretty well drunk, greeting Dan with an overly-loud "Heeeeeeeey!" So he was rather obviously drinking again, then. Well, that had been obvious for some time, but when he thought about it, Danny realized he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Craig so - well - so happily drunk. Perhaps that was why things seemed a bit surreal - Craig's mood, rather than state of inebriation.

Danny grinned back at Craig. "Hey, man. Long time since I've seen ya." Or, he thought grimly, perhaps it was just that he hadn't seen the man for ages. His thoughts darkened as they returned to this subject, though they were fighting the stupidly happy vibes emanating from the man now rushing to embrace him. Craig was infectious. Infectious and addictive, come to think of it. Was that really a good thing? To have a friend who was a cross between tropical fever and cocaine?

Craig wrapped Dan in a friendly hug, enjoying the closeness of the other man, noticing, with a repressed giggle, that he used the same after-shave as Chris had been using about a year ago. "All right, man! Good to see ya." Yes, it was. Seeing, and touching. Touch was at least as important as sight to Craig, and came just as naturally to him. Not everyone appreciated being hugged or patted or given a friendly slap, but it took a lot for Craig not to do so; not to bump against someone conspiratorially to underline a good joke, or grab someone's shoulder in the middle of a good conversation. And with his friends - well, it was more than a want; it was practically necessary. It hurt not to be able to touch someone he cared about. Not being able to touch Chris had been... but that was all in the past, wasn't it?

Danny patted Craig gently on the back until he let go. "Yes," he said, finally, as Craig pulled back, still grinning. "Where have you been?"

Been? Craig kept his grin in place, in spite of his growing confusion. "Wha? I'm... Wha'chu mean?"

The man must have been distracted. In general. Danny was expecting embarrassed excuses and apologies, but to not even notice how little they got together, these days? "Just that I haven't seen you - since the wrap, I swear!"

Craig kept one hand constantly on Dan's shoulder, as if to steady himself. It doubled as a safe, happy reminder that his friend was there. Just knowing that felt good. "Naaaah..." It hadn't been that long, had it? Granted, he'd been busy; what little time he had left over after his career and family concerns had been taken care of had been mostly allocated to Chris, but even so... He frowned. Hell, it had been a year, hadn't it? Time seemed to have flown by at scary speeds. Guilt crept into his voice as he realized Dan might well be right. "Yeah?"

Danny looked up at the ceiling, recollecting. Yes, aside from that wrap party, just hurried, chance meetings - quick hugs or chucks on the shoulder, promises to meet up later. "I think so!"

Feeling his face collapse into a frown, Craig's drink-blurred mind tried to assimilate this information. "Oh, eh," he mumbled with concern. "That's... that's no good, then." There was never enough time, he mused. There should be more time. Still, he noted, cheering up, they were here now, weren't they? His grin slowly reformed as he slid his hand down Danny's arm, unwilling, somehow, to let go. "So, how you been, guy?"

Danny smiled. Well, maybe it had just been an off year. "Oh, been doing a littlea this, a littlea that. Nothing big. Got a new bike..." It was so lovely. Craig would drool.

"Yeah?"

"R6. Black." Danny's grin returned. The lines of it - and the sound it made! "The girls love it." He nudged Craig with his elbow.

Craig concentrated, his eyes narrowing. Chris talked a lot about bikes. It wasn't that Craig wasn't interested, as he was, indeed, now too, trying to keep up with the details and specs Danny reeled off. But he didn't know all that much about the subject, and frankly, he didn't much care about the hows and whys as long as the machine preformed and looked good. Those were for other people to worry about; he didn't see why he needed to know. Still, it was fun to see the excitement in Chris's, and now Danny's, eyes when they talked about it. "Right, yeah." He giggled at the nudge, flashing a grin. "Aaah, I get you man. I get ya."

"It's amazin'!" Danny chortled, getting into the arc of a story. "I got this lovely bird begging to get a... ride." Craig laughed along with him, swaying a little. "Little girl, black hair, short skirt. Really short skirt."

"That right, yeah?" Vague thoughts of short skirts and tight clothing floated before Craig's inner eye as he surveyed the room. Yeah, he'd had his share of horny girls, that was certain. He'd never been quite comfortable with the idea of adoring fans, with that one exception; lovely girls, ripe for the taking, his for the asking. These days, though... he was more easily distracted by the back of a grey shirt, which he knew (having seen the man put it on earlier, as he'd changed in a hurry in Craig's bedroom, not knowing, or perhaps not caring, that he was being observed) was unbuttoned at the top just enough. Just enough to distract Craig at the thought of it.

Danny frowned as he couldn't help but notice Craig's attention wandering. "What about you?" he asked. "Found some lovely thing that's keeping you busy?"

Making a show of paying attention, Craig shrugged. "Ah, you know..." Would have been the usual, wouldn't it, if not for Chris. But there was Chris. The shoulders underneath the grey shirt shook a little in laughter, the muscles underneath not really visible, except to Craig's inner eye, which was getting quite a work-out. Yeah, he'd like to work out something with those shoulders, that body. Just seeing it across the room like that - it was almost frightening.

Danny found his grin slipping. "I know?" How was he supposed to know anything? Not so much as a text message about Craig's amorous adventures. Not like the man. Or, not like how the man used to treat his friends, Danny thought, irately. He followed Craig's distracted look, and noted that Chris lay at the end of it. Or rather, stood at the end of it, making polite conversation. Danny started to have an idea of what might have been taking so much of Craig's attention.

"Erm..." Craig faltered and quickly looked away from Chris, feeling like a teenager caught with his hand down some bird's top as his parents came home early. "Well, there's..." he paused, then finished, lamely, "this and that."

Danny looked back to Craig. Certainly, he would have bet his socks that there had been something between Craig and Chris back in the early days of the show, but now? After so much time, and all of the fighting and bad blood? Danny found himself tugged between curiosity as to what was going on, and annoyance at Chris for the role he was potentially playing in sucking away his friend's time. But both tugs lead in generally the same direction, and so Danny followed them. "This and that? Come on, man, details!"

Craig's bravado was never fake, or so he'd like to think, but suddenly he felt floods of the stuff gush through his mouth in impressive quantities. "Eh now," he leered, "you know me, I'm a gentleman!"

Danny threw his head back and let out a loud laugh. "Since when?"

"Since... since... never you mind since when!" Craig grinned, his eyes flickering towards Chris from time to time. They seemed to gravitate that way of their own accord.

Danny shook his head, noting Craig's darting glances. There was, he had to admit, a certain fun in discomfiting Craig. He spoke with intentionally exaggerated precision. "Ah, do your newly acquired gentlemanly qualities allow you to tell me her name?" Yes, and is it even a her, eh?

Craig shook his head dismissively, still grinning. "Who said there was just one?" That, at least, was close to the truth. It was hard to explain the rather complex relationship situation in which he now found himself, so Craig never even tried. Those who needed to know, knew, and that was all there was to it. He was happy; his loved ones were happy; end of story. He could tell from Danny's look that the man would not be brushed off so easily, however. Not tonight.

Danny's grin flattened, and one side of his mouth quirked. "Er, yeah." Well, that was certainly a possibility, wasn't it? The man did get into trouble with women. He wanted his cake and his tart and his pastry, and wanted to eat them all. And just how did Chris fit into that? There was no way, Danny thought as he watched Craig attempt another surreptitious glance at Chris, that there was nothing going on. But if Craig wouldn't tell him - his best fucking friend - how was he to know? What did he think, that Danny would be disgusted and - disown him as a friend, or some such shit? Didn't he trust him at all?

Reaching for a possible out, Craig spoke quickly. "I'm a'go get me a drink, man. Y'all righ?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Danny said, his voice subdued, as he played with his still-mostly-full glass.

Craig did not stop to listen to Danny's answer. "All right, yeah?" He rushed off as much as he could in the crowded room, pushing his way to the kitchen. They could talk later, when Dan had downed a few more drinks and relaxed a bit, this awkward conversation long forgotten.

Danny watched him go into that small kitchenette. He looked over at where Craig had been glancing, and saw Chris. The man watched Craig disappear into the kitchen, and followed. Damn. Forget his socks; Danny would bet his underpants and his watch that they were doing... something. Hell, though, maybe just playing whist. He told himself, as he abruptly drained his drink, that he would find out. That very night.


A few hours later, the Moment hit. The Moment when half of the room suddenly realizes it has somewhere to be, an early morning the next day, sitters to relieve, and the like, and the other half of the room gets the hint and starts to file out. The party wound down, inevitably, as people said their goodbyes and left, until only a couple of dogged conversation circles remained.

Danny swirled his drink in his hand. It was the last of many, the effects of which were, to his annoyance, becoming quite evident. Craig had done little more than grin at him from across the room the entire evening, despite his earlier joviality and promise to return. Instead, the man had drifted from group to group, yet somehow remained never more than six feet or so away from Chris. And while they were being oh-so discreet about it, there was no hiding the fact that something was going on between that unlikely pair. So, all right; being discreet about something the press might well have a field-day with, that Danny could understand. But he wasn't exactly the star reporter from The Daily Mirror, was he? He didn't like to admit it, but being excluded like this hurt. Well, if Craig wouldn't share, Danny would damn well make him share! Stuck up little blighter. He could be so arrogant at times. Or perhaps, he mused, observing the immaculately dressed figure of Chris watching Craig with a somber smile, another tactic might work better. Trying his best to look suave, but ending up looking a little too serious, he sidled his way up to Chris.

Chris had not had terribly much to drink. Craig had been dropping hints here and there about wanting him to 'stay to help clean up,' and the anticipation of what might come - and his desire to be in a position to enjoy it - had kept him on the fairly sober side.

"All right, Chris?"

"Hey, man!" Chris had barely said two words to Danny all night, although he had often looked up to see the man staring at him, from across the room. With the party visibly wound down, he could not bring himself to care too much about it. He could not bring himself to care too much about anything other than what would go on once they had managed to herd all of the guests out.

Danny flashed a subdued smile. "Haven't seen much of you..." he paused meaningfully, although not for long enough to make it seem odd, "either, man." Chris could usually take a hint fairly easily.

"Yes, I know." It was hard enough keeping in touch as things were, and with a potential movie role in the works, he was bound to fall even farther out of touch. It was a shame, as the four of them had once been so close. "I've been terribly busy. Haven't really kept in touch," he finished, lamely.

Yes, and why not, Danny thought, nodding. "Yeah, right, I see, I see what yer sayin. The way it is, right?"

"Yes. Well, that's what these are for..." Chris gestured to indicate the apartment and the party therein. "Give us a chance to catch up again." Craig-organized, of course. He was not sure if he would be able to keep in touch with the old troupe at all if it weren't for the man.

"Yeaah..." Danny said, slyly. "You... been keeping in touch with anyone at all, then?" He swirled his drink again, glancing slightly to the side to look at where Craig was telling some lengthy story to a tired-looking Robert.

"More or less. I see Robert around, sometimes, and Craig, now and then. Haven't seen Norm, though." Chris followed Danny's eyes, and smiled at the sight of Bobby trying to look interested, and failing miserably. Craig was drunk enough to not notice. "Bobby looks tuckered."

This was going nowhere, Danny thought. Trying to read Chris's face, he gave a hesitant, "Yeah. Good party. Haven't been here before, though." But Chris had, no doubt. And maybe he was just tipsy enough to let that fact slip through that stupid veil of secrecy.

"It's just a temporary apartment. Not much to see."

Danny nodded again, keeping eye contact. "You've been here before, then?"

Chris shrugged, sighing internally, not for the first time, at how needlessly complicated this all seemed at times. It would be so simple, even liberating, to just tell Danny, "Yes, I come here as frequently as I can," but this whole... situation was far from simple. Easy and comfortable, certainly, but not simple. And yes, there was also some sense of potential violated propriety which kept the subject taboo - something co-worker-wise, something homosexual-wise, just something. And so Chris changed the subject. "Hmm, I should go rescue Bobby."

"Hm." Oh, that was too rich! Too rich by far. Did Chris think he was stupid enough not to notice that screeching u-turn? Danny took a sip of his drink, and added, too loudly, "Yeah, you do that!" He nodded amicably in Craig's direction, seeing Craig frown and nod back. Uncomfortable now, was he? Good!

Chris clasped Danny on the shoulder, genially, wishing he could be less uptight about it all. But he could not, and so he walked over to where Craig seemed to be on his way to recounting a saga on par, lengthwise, with the history of Europe from the Saxons to the present. "Looks like you've worn Bobby out!"

Bobby gave Chris a glance of relief that he quickly covered with a more blankly pleased expression. "Oh, no, just... I had to get up early today."

"Naaaaaah! Yer all right, aren't ya Bobby?" Craig cried enthusiastically, forgetting, in the same moment, the subject of his long-winded epic.

Chris smiled. "Craig, it is getting a little late." Late for Bobby, yes, and for us, as well. He checked his watch. They had passed midnight handily. "Or early." He looked back up in time to catch Craig's eye.

"Wha?" Craig asked, suggestions dancing in his eyes. He'd tried all evening to hint to Chris that he wanted him to stay the night, but with people around all the time they hadn't been able to actually talk, save for hurried trips to the kitchen, where, invariably, someone would burst in just as Craig was about to ask. Now he was bloody drunk, which, as always, fueled his libido. In a word, he was horny.

"Oh, dear, what time is it...?" Robert asked, craning his neck to get a look at Chris's watch. "Oh, no, I was supposed to be home an hour ago!"

Craig giggled a little, flinging his arm over Robert. He was a good man, was Robert. Bobby. Good friend, lovely man. "Ah, that's all right, Robert, my man! I know yer missus, she's all right!" God, he loved Robert. Frankly, he just loved everyone. Everything!

Robert gave a wry smile. "Yes, indeed, I hope so. Lovely party, Craig, and thank you so much for asking me by." He hugged the overly enthusiastic man genially, then disentangled himself. He bade farewell to Danny and Chris, too, and left with a grin and a wave.

Craig looked around. "People are leavin'." Chris. Chris was still there. A warm, tender feeling stirred in Craig's abdomen, and slowly seeped into his whole body, making him tingle. Love? Nah, he didn't love Chris. Far too bland a word, that. He swayed his head in the direction of that familiar voice as it spoke.

"Everyone has left, Craig..." Chris said, with a grin. Well, Danny was still there, but he'd be following the others out, soon enough.

Drunk or not, there were some signals Craig never failed to pick up on. Chris was staying. Wanted to stay. Oh hell, yes. A wide, cheeky grin spread across Craig's face as possibilities played themselves out in his mind. "Hey, yeah!"

"Pretty much. I'll just help clean up, though." Danny had not actually started moving for the door; Chris did not look at him, but tried to project the comment in his direction. Dan, however, clearly purposely ignored this and sat down, slowly sipping his drink. Chris frowned. The man was fairly socially ept, and not one to miss as unsubtle a hint as he had just thrown out, Chris thought. He raised an eyebrow at Craig.

Lost in interesting mental scenarios, the gesture was lost completely on Craig at first, but one look at Dan was enough to get the message through. The man was just sitting there, bold as brass, sipping his drink, pretending not to look at them. A vague memory from earlier that evening poked at Craig's consciousness, but it was too blurry. This was no good, though. Chris hadn't spent the night in ages, and dammit, if Craig didn't have Chris's cock in his mouth soon, he was going to go completely spare.

Chris finished off the drink he had been nursing, and put the glass down. "It is pretty late..." he said, meaningfully.

Danny turned around to face him. "Yeah, late, ain't it?"

"Yes. I was just going to help clean up a bit, then head home..."

"Hey, I can help with that, no problem!" Danny said, his face oozing chipper sincerity. This wasn't over by a long shot. If Chris wanted a war, by all means, he was welcome to bring it on!

Chris did not believe it for a minute. Danny was playing at something, he was sure. He hadn't worked with the man for so long without being able to read the subtle signs of mischief. "No, really, we have it under control. Just a few glasses." He started to pick up glasses that were sitting nearby, as if to demonstrate.

Danny smiled, his sincerity not slipping an iota. "Nah, Chris; you just get yourself home, right? I'm sure you were here before I came, weren't you? Could have sworn you were..."

"I had a good sleep last night. I'm all right," Chris said, firmly.

Craig looked from one man to the other, confused, as Danny's eyebrows raised in no-uncertain implication. "Did you, now?" Danny said, meaningfully.

Chris raised an eyebrow at Danny. "Yes..." Well, no question now what Danny was playing at. But it didn't matter. He was going to find a way to get the man out of there, and it was not going to be by telling him, "Yes, we're shagging, so please leave so we can get to it." He took the glasses to the kitchen and started to empty the remnants of drinks into the sink, quietly.

Danny walked over to Craig, who was leaning against the wall dividing the kitchen from the main room, for all intents and purposes, a living question-mark. "Come on then, I'm sure there's plenty needs helping with," he said, with faux heartiness.

Chris put the empty glasses into one side of the sink. Craig was Danny's best mate, he was sure; he would be able to get the man to fecking leave. But he seemed to be just at the point of drunk where he was far too genial to do anything like that. Damn the man!

"Erm..." Craig said, nervously. He didn't want to have to deal with this now. He was pissed and horny, and in no mood for mind-games. The times Craig found himself at a loss for words were few and far between, but this was definitely one of them.

Sensing Craig's hesitation, Danny went on relentlessly. "I mean, there's no reason Chris should need to be the one to help always. I seem to remember he came back round to yours to help you clean when you was having that party last year. Remember? It was before the party, then."

"Erm..." Craig repeated, trying to remember. True, no doubt, but what could he say? Should he lie? He could, of course, but thoughts and ideas flowed in the manner of stale syrup; not at all.

Chris fumed silently at Craig as he finished with the glasses. Just tell the man to go, already! Ah, if only he were Craig...

Wait. Why not?

Chris thought, for a moment, about Craig; his walk, his mannerisms, his facial expressions, his distinctive dialect. Putting on as good an imitation of the last as he could muster, Chris called out into the main room, "Eeeeh, I make such a mess, man, you know..."

Craig giggled, as much at Chris's trick as at Dan's evident confusion. He was beginning to feel, however, that he should perhaps not have had that last drink. The one that was still in his hand. He looked at it thoughtfully.

Funny man, Danny thought, as confusion quickly gave way to annoyance. Both of them having a good laugh at his expense, no doubt. What was this; screw over Dan day? "You do him so well, don't ya, Chris?" he belted out, pointedly, in the direction of the kitchen, acid dripping from his words.

There was something he was missing, Craig felt. He was terribly confused, staring as Chris walked out of the kitchen, aping his nonchalant swagger. "Nah, impressions ain't me bag," Chris said, in Craig's voice.

Now Danny stared. "Sorry, what?"

"But I ain't seen ya in ages, though!" Chris was warming to this. He threw his arm over Danny's shoulders in an exuberant, Craigly hug.

Craig looked again at the bottle he was holding, as if to ascertain if anyone had put something in it. Voice, yes. Chris did that all the time, and it was good fun. But this? He hadn't seen Chris do this since... since way back in a time he'd rather forget about.

The combination of Craig's voice coming out of Chris's mouth - which he had, after all, heard time and time again - combined with that effortless, flowing way of moving which was just so Craig, couldn't help but make Danny eerily uncomfortable. "Right..." A joke was a joke, but this bordered on madness. Didn't it?

Chris shook his head, pulling his arm back, and swaggered back to the kitchen wall to put his back against it, nicking the cigarettes from Craig's pocket along the way. This was actually quite fun. Danny was bloody near open-mouthed. "Awww..." He gave a snorting giggle. "Yer just too coy, mate." He tapped out a cigarette, hoping he wouldn't have to actually smoke it.

Watching helplessly as his smokes disappeared, Craig's eyes were about to pop out of his head. What the feck was Chris up to?

Moving and talking was one thing, but cigarettes? Danny could do nothing but stare, finally managing, "Chris... you all right, mate?"

"Dunno, man." Chris stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and slouched over to Danny. He whispered conspiratorially, "I don't think Chris is all there, ya know?" He tapped his forehead meaningfully.

One drink too many; all right, that much was certain. Craig put his bottle down very, very carefully. He slid along the wall, feeling his way until he reached a chair, where he sat down - also very, very carefully.

Danny looked from Craig to Chris and back, then at the cigarette, pointedly. Chris, noting Danny's stare, pulled the offending object out of his mouth and looked at it. "Oh, yeah, I stopped with the menthol." He stuck it back in his mouth and spread his arms. "But really, it ain't much of a mess. Hell, I could clean it up meself."

Craig's head slumped onto the nearby table, from which he watched the proceedings sideways. His mind felt like mush. Chris was good, though. Way too good. "Am I still me?" he mumbled, his lips brushing against the slightly sticky surface.

"Look..." Danny said, and then couldn't think of anything to follow that word. He looked at the cigarette and started over. "You smoke?"

Chris furrowed his brow at Danny. "Whu? Of course I do, mate! I came out 'o the womb with a cig."

Danny ran his fingers through his hair, rapidly looking from Chris to Craig and back again. Hell, Chris looked more like Craig than Craig did! He gave a sudden, nervous smile. What was this? "You're having me on!"

"Whu, me? Nah, I wouldn't do that to yeh." Chris sat down next to Danny with a Craigish grin. Hell, he thought - even when it's not on the man's face, it's infectious.

Too freaked out to stand, Danny shifted in his seat. "Right. So... you're..." What? What could he possibly say? He certainly couldn't ask if they were shagging now!

Chris recalled something that Craig had told him with a conspiratory giggle earlier in the evening. "Hey, man, shouldn't you be back with that bird who wants a..." Chris wiggled his eyebrows, "ride?"

Craig caught Danny's eye and shrugged, as if to say 'I have no idea, either,' as Danny jumped up. This was too spooky by half. "Look... erm..." He could not stand still. He knew he was being had, in some fecked up way, but it was all a little too freakish for him to handle with this much alcohol under his belt. "I can see you guys have a lot of cleaning up to do, yeah?"

"Eh, just a li'le." Chris spread his fingers in a 'little' gesture, one he knew all too well from Craig using it to refer to something else. Ah, in the past.

Thinking it had finally caught with what was happening, Craig's muddled mind sat up and felt it should contribute. "Aye sayh, ewe awl right there Dan?" Though well pleased with himself, this performance took far more effort than it should, leaving Craig slumped back in his chair again directly after delivering it.

Chris looked over. "Too much to drink, that one," he nodded at Danny.

Craig smiled apologetically at them both. "Iyeiysh, I doe thiynk..." He faltered, realizing that perhaps he was overdoing things a tad. Some fine-tuning might be needed. He wasn't exactly a natural at voices, after all.

Danny, now panicking slightly, started mumbling in a voice he was no longer certain sounded like his own, "Right, yeah. Bird. Erm. Bike. Yeah." He looked around for his coat and shoes. He realized he was wearing one and could see the other. "Nice. Yeah. Gotta..." he gestured at the door.

The last thing Danny heard as the door slammed shut behind him was "Y'all come back now, ya hear?" shouted after him in a broad American accent. Buttoning his coat as he ran down the stairs, he grit his teeth and shook his head, as though clearing his ears of water. Whatever was going on, he realized, he really did not want to know.

Chris spat the cigarette out, with distaste. God, they were foul. He didn't understand the appeal, not one bit. Sliding it back into the pack, he tossed it back at Craig. "I thought he would never leave," he growled.

Craig looked up, bemused, in time to catch the flying pack. "Me neither. You was running out of accents, too."

"Two! I hadn't even gotten started!" Chris felt vaguely offended. He hadn't even done Brittas, for god's sake! Did Craig think he was a two-act circus, after all this time?

"Right. I've enough trouble with one, me."

Chris could not help smiling. Craig looked almost unbearably appealing, slouched in the chair like that. "It's a lovely accent. And very useful." He grinned and started to clear more of the glasses and plates that were scattered about.

After a moment's reflection, Craig stood up, somewhat shakily, but steady, and concentrated. "Becaause I was veehry worried about'chooo." He might not be any kind of impersonator, but lines he remembered. And somehow, with this, the accent was just another aspect to be remembered, like an inflection or an emphasis. Teaching the various parts of his mouth how to make it come out the way it was supposed to - now that had taken time.

Chris almost dropped the plates, juggling them as he laughed. Craig had indeed improved since the last time Chris had heard that accent. Had he been practicing? Where? He managed to catch all of the plates and glasses and get them to the kitchen. He started to rinse them, still chortling.

Craig followed, and in as deadpan a voice as he could manage, said, "Samething wroung?"

Chris stood stock-still, jiggling his eyebrows, pretending to be shocked. "Dear god, we're lovers, aren't we?"

Craig raised an eyebrow. "Sorreh?" Chris had remembered the wrong line, but who cared? This was fun.

"Look... it's got to stop. Awkward around the copier, and all."

Craig moved subtly closer. "Cohpier, yeas," he mumbled, moving closer still. "Awkwahd and awhl thaaat."

Chris finished with rinsing the dishes and shook out his hands, taking Craig by the small of the back. "You're drunk, aren't you..."

"Yessir!" Craig said, dropping his accent with relief.

"I don't know if my conscience would let me take advantage of a drunk man," Chris sighed, not meaning a word.

Liar, Craig thought, pulling Chris close. "Fat lot of good it does ya, then!"

"Yes, I might just have to ignore it."

"Good man!" A gorgeous man, an irresistible man, kissing his forehead. God, Craig wanted him. He'd wanted him all night, but all the more urgently now. "Mmm. Yer a lovely man. Ye know that?" He pulled back slightly and grabbed Chris's lapels, resisting the urge to tug on them, hard. He wanted Chris to come to him. Somehow, that always felt the most satisfying. Like there was any doubt left between them now! No, it was a luxury. The luxury of being wanted. He clutched the cloth in his hands, his knuckles whitening.

"I hope so..." Chris swallowed. "Just... does he have to come to the next party?" He nodded to indicate the main door, and the last person to have passed through it.

Letting go of the lapels, Craig pulled one of Chris's shirt-tails out and snaked his hand underneath the cloth. "Nah, man." He felt Chris's breath get heavier at his touch, which only fueled his own desire. Yes, Chris wanted him. There was no bigger turn-on. He moved in to lick Chris's chin, lost in the task. "Not if it'll lead to you doin' that again."

Chris laughed through a breathy sigh. "I don't know if that would work twice in a row." He pulled back and started to feather at Craig's lips with his mouth open.

More than impatient now, Craig started to unbutton Chris's shirt. He couldn't stop licking those lips, though, and talking was making that difficult. "I do like ya talkin'..." he unbuttoned the rest, "but sometimes it's even better when we don't." He leaned into a kiss, pressing Chris against the sink, eager to feel skin, wanting, needing to get closer.

Chris pulled Craig's shirt out of his trousers and started to knead his sides. He licked Craig's teeth, tasting a little residual alcohol. "What is it with you and kitchens?" he muttered, running his hands up Craig's back.

Craig gave a raunchy laugh. "Dunno. Like 'em. Like 'em after you and me..."

Chris didn't let him finish the sentence. He didn't need to. He sucked in Craig's tongue.

Craig tried to laugh, but it was impossible. He worked Chris's shirt off, instead, pushing it off of his shoulders.

Chris slid his hands into Craig's trousers, as best as he was able. The belt was cinched, and he could only slip his fingers in, rubbing the valleys between Craig's hips and crotch. Craig jumped a little, then leaned eagerly into the touch. "I still vote we move to the damn bedroom," Chris whispered.

The belt clearly needed to come off. Craig started working at it with one hand, wishing he didn't have to, that it would just slide off on its own, leaving his hands free to pursue more interesting task. Ah, but no such luck. "Do you, now?" he said, lustily, teasingly. The belt was a lost cause in the state he was now, he realized. Other things were more urgent. He grabbed Chris's belt hoops on either side, pulling him towards the bedroom. He needed to taste him, swallow him whole. Now.

"Yes." Chris let himself be pulled.

"Yeah?" Craig snaked out his tongue and licked Chris's ear, still moving backwards. He felt Chris shiver at the proximity to that spot, but only brushed by it. Not this time. It was so much more fun if Chris didn't know when to expect it. Next time, possibly. Yes. For now, Craig leaned backwards on the bedroom door to push it open, then trotted back and leapt onto the bed, pulling Chris on top of him. "Doing a fine job cleaning, you are!" he panted, sliding his hands off the belt and down Chris's legs, firmly.

"I kept you from messing up the kitchen, didn't I?" Chris chided, unbuttoning Craig's vest and pushing it - and the shirt below it - off.

Craig began to work at Chris's belt. "True that..." he mumbled, as Chris hiked himself up on his knees, straddling him, and Craig got up on his elbows, facing in just the right direction. His pulse was going mad as he tossed the belt to the side, and started to slowly undo the fly, licking his lips.

A master tease, Chris thought, as he watched that long, pink tongue swipe those full lips, as Craig slowly, so very slowly, opened his trousers. Chris stroked Craig's ear, becoming hornier by the minute just watching.

Craig finally got the trousers open enough to slide down, down those firm, strong thighs, savoring the feel of cloth against skin as he did so. This accomplished, he reached around to the buttocks, feeling as much as hearing Chris' sighs, and that did it. Quickly, Craig started to pull Chris's underpants down with his teeth, pulling at them in an attempt that was sadly far more easily thought than done. The erection made the act an exercise in topology. Chris leaned back to give him room, panting, but he still had to use his hands to get the dratted underpants out of the way. "Drive me wild, you do..." he mumbled. More than wild. There was a primal need to this, something that almost frightened him. Almost.

"And you think you don't?" Chris said, with a strangled chortle. But he made himself watch, an eager spectator, just stroking Craig's cheek as the man put on his show.

"Dunno..." Craig said, breathing on the erection in front of him.

Chris gasped. "You do. Trust me."

Craig licked the erection carefully, sampling, listening to Chris's quiet sighs as he stroked Craig's ear and hair. That felt good, but it was irrelevant, a gentle aside to the joy of the task at hand, as Craig licked more and more thoroughly and broadly, and started to concentrate on the head.

Chris tried to say 'yes,' but it came out as an odd moany sound. Craig had a way of making his elocution go all to cock. He snickered internally. So to speak.

With a thrill of anticipation finally resolved, Craig put his lips around the erection, and slowly started sliding down, very slowly. Oh god, this shouldn't be this good; how could it feel so fantastic when it wasn't him it was being done to? He took as much of it into as he could into his mouth, his lips firmly seated in pubic hair, wanting to moan, but resisting. He couldn't let go of this tight grip, not for anything.

"Oh, yes. That... is..." Chris felt control of his vocal cords slipping away again. He gasped out an exhale with "in... credible," within.

Almost hypnotized by the pleasure he felt and Chris's reactions, Craig stayed there for a moment, working his tongue, then slid up again. He slid all the way up and off the head, then started again, slightly more quickly. He wanted more of this.

"Oh," Chris moaned. "God... you're going to drive me crazy." He caressed Craig's head and ears very firmly as the other man laughed, somewhere midway along the shaft. Chris felt Craig's speed increasing, varying in depth at the same time, as he slid his hands up and down Chris's legs and buttocks. It was like being given a small slice of Nirvana for dessert, and Chris relished it; he rubbed Craig's neck and shoulders affectionately, sometimes tightening involuntarily when Craig did something particularly good - how did he keep surprising, after all this time, he thought, as Craig licked the underside in one long stroke. "Mmm... lovely." Chris finally managed to get something coherent out from between the moans.

Taking a very reluctant pause to breathe, wishing, not for the first time, that he didn't have to, Craig smiled happily. "Enjoying this..." he mumbled. Too mild a word. Too mild indeed. He felt alive, joyful, energized.

"You're enjoying this?" Chris gave a breathless chuckle. He rubbed Craig's back and sighed, "Magnificent." It went without saying, but there was a thrill in saying it anyway.

That was a good word, Craig thought, sliding all the way down again. He came up for air and whimpered, shivering, then did it again, wanting to go on like this forever, cursing the knowledge that he couldn't.

Chris moaned, "God, yes, yes." He leaned down to kiss Craig's hair, still moaning.

Craig increased his speed, sucking harder, more wildly, moaning. Feeling Chris start to buck, he tried to encourage it, working his tongue. He wanted this to last, but more than anything, he wanted to drive Chris to orgasm. God, yes, more than anything!

It was impossible to stay still, so Chris settled for trying to make it a gentle, steady thrusting. "I love your mouth." And what it could do, and the fact that he wanted to do it. To call himself a lucky man would be trite. Luck like this would get him thrown out of the casino for breaking the house.

Craig gasped, through another one of those damned necessary breaks for air, "Love you... Love this..." he whimpered, then ducked back in.

It was too much, too quickly; Chris did not want to come so soon. Before Craig could suck his erection back in, Chris leaned down to kiss Craig, licking his mouth deeply. He slid his hand down to Craig's belt, unfastening it and undoing his trousers.

No, no, no; Craig needed more. He wasn't done, hadn't finished by a long shot, and the forced separation felt almost painful. Craig felt himself starting to breathe erratically, panting heavily, almost plaintively.

Chris pushed the fly open. Yes, Craig was hard, delightfully so; Chris rubbed that erection firmly through Craig's underpants.

Craig grit his teeth, bucking against the touch, which, after all, seemed to be necessary too. After a few strokes, Chris slipped his hand inside, not breaking the kiss. "Yes..." Craig sighed, weakly, lost to this now, closing his eyes and floating away on this new sensation.

As Chris slid down slightly to grasp Craig's erection, his own rubbed wetly against Craig's shoulder. He grabbed that shoulder with his free hand and rubbed against it, sighing into Craig's mouth as he pushed the other man's foreskin back and started to rub his head, gently.

Chris's cock was too close for Craig not to try to reach for it. He slid his tongue out and stretched towards it, not quite reaching, making weak sounds of frustration even as he felt what was being done to his own erection.

Hell, there was no way Chris could resist the temptation of that long, lovely tongue on him. He leaned to the side, gently pushing Craig in the other direction so that he could still reach Craig's erection while the man put his mouth on Chris's.

Craig moaned heavily in relief, and took it all in, hungrily, sucking harder, longer, as though to make up for lost time. He wasn't about to let Chris lure him away from this again; it felt far, far too good.

"Oh, yes..." Chris wondered if Craig knew how magnificent that felt. In all likelihood, he didn't; Chris did not have the complete lack of gag reflex necessary to do that. He spat into his hand, poor substitute though it was, and stroked Craig, firmly. Noting that Craig was trying to time his motions to the strokes, paused to lick his hand, and started to pump swiftly. He felt Craig's movements become erratic at that, but some part of him said no; Craig deserved more than a bloody hand job. Chris slowed his hand, then removed it entirely, pushing Craig's legs back. He stretched out next to Craig, his crotch near the other man's mouth, his own mouth nuzzling Craig's erection.

Craig, needing more air, grasped Chris's cock in one hand, feeling almost defeated. Why this stupid need for bloody air all the time? Such a waste, such a horrible waste of time, such a waste of his mouth. He moved as Chris pushed him, a vague idea of what the other man might have in mind dawning on him. Yes, that might be good. Good. Yes.

Chris exhaled through his teeth. Yes, he could do better. He licked his hand again and started to stroke Craig's erection slowly, licking at the head, hearing Craig cry out as he did so. "You taste..." Chris gasped, licking at Craig's head, adjectives failing him. Sultry. Stubborn. Smoky. Giggly. "...so Craiggy."

Craig spluttered at this, through his lust. Chris's erection, which he had just sucked back in, fell out of his mouth like a badly placed cigarette.

Chris felt his face heat. Yes, it was a stupid thing to say. Weren't you allowed those, in the heat of the moment? "You do. Lovely."

A silly smile on his face, Craig stroked Chris's erection, gently. Lovely, yes. Chris was such a lovely man, and he rarely understood to what degree. What they had, that they had it; such miracles.

Chris sighed at the gentle stroke, just enough to keep him erect, not enough to come. Perfect. Perfect. He put his mouth around the head of Craig's erection, sucking it in. A start.

The added stimulation from Chris's ministrations was nearly too much, but it only made Craig want more. "You taste... you feel..." Craig licked at the head. More. "God, I want to suck you dry..." He began to suit action to words.

So much for the perfect stimulation, one that would give him time to do this gradually. Chris moaned, then sucked in more of Craig's erection, unable to keep from moaning over the top of it as Craig sucked harder. He pulled more into his mouth; he choked slightly as the head bumped his throat, but recovered, sucking almost all of it in. He felt like he might choke any moment, but it was a wonderfully dangerous sensation of fullness, to have so much Craig in him at once. He pulsed gently, the erection bottoming out against his throat.

Craig heard the choking, but it seemed off in another world somewhere. All there was for him now was the taste of Chris and the sweet sensation in his groin fueled both by his own delighted sucking and Chris's mouth on him. Instinct took over as he tried to push himself deeper into that mouth, deeper into the warmness.

Chris found he could not moan when Craig's erection bottomed out in his throat; he had to time his moans with Craig's slight thrusts. He tried to lick the erection when it did bottom out. The effort of all of this kept him on the edge of orgasm.

Chris had never taken him in so deeply, and it did feel divine; the distraction was enough for Chris's penis to keep falling out of his mouth. Craig cursed at it, slightly, wishing it would just be still and behave.

Ah, the other man finally had a bit of frustration. Chris would chuckle at Craig's consternation if he himself were not completely dedicated to sucking and moaning. He reached out to stroke Craig's testicles as he sucked, still licking slightly at what was inside of his mouth.

Craig had always meant to ask Chris why he kept doing that during sex; it didn't feel particularly good, though of course it didn't hurt. Now, as Craig pulled Chris's erection back into his mouth, an idea struck him. Bodies were different, after all. Maybe Chris... yes. Stretching himself as far as he could go, Craig let his lips brush Chris's testicles as he reached the bottom of the shaft.

There was no way that was actually physically possible, Chris was sure, but he could not argue with what he felt. He had to open his mouth wide around Craig's erection to let out a very heartfelt groan.

Jackpot, apparently, Craig noted, and did it again, lingering a little. He should have caught on sooner, really. No matter. This was fun.

Chris had to make a conscious effort to keep Craig's erection in his mouth as he let out another groan, one with a distinct whine tingeing it. He would not be able to keep fellating if Craig was going to do such incredible things!

Fun indeed. Chris seemed to be having trouble, and the ever-competitive Craig gave an inner whoop at this. Yes, it was a competition, dammit; one he aimed to win. Craig pulled up again, then lingered even longer on the way down, working his tongue around Chris's erection, trying, awkwardly, to let his lips caress the testicles as best he could. It was stretching even the limits of his own oral flexibility, but if the sounds Chris made were any indication, he wasn't doing all that badly. Finally, he brought up one hand to stroke them, very gently, still holding on to the erection in his mouth.

"Craig, man..." Chris lost his battle. Craig's erection fell out of his mouth, and he grabbed it desperately with one hand, stroking. His orgasms often came on him quickly and decisively, but this one he could feel before it came, his body chilling slightly. He shivered, an odd, quiet moan coming out of his mouth, feeling like it were someone else moaning, in some adjacent apartment.

Craig felt a slight surge of triumph and started sucking hard, moving his head up and down while caressing Chris's balls, enjoying this newfound trick like a child with a new toy. He wanted Chris to come, wildly, to feel a fraction of the joy doing this brought to Craig. He could feel Chris trembling within him; he had to be close.

The moan and the shiver continued, unchanged, as Chris felt orgasm take him, Craig's mouth, so wet and warm and agile; and how did he ever deserve to have the man want him so much, so much that Chris could feel it in his groin and his mouth and his heart?

Craig sucked hard as Chris came, keeping moving until there were no more aftershocks. Sucking, licking, pulling the other man towards him, into him, completing him. So good, this was so good, the ache in his own groin throbbing along with the late pulses of Chris's orgasm, a delight in itself, a rare delicacy.

"God... Craig, Craig..." Chris gasped, his shivers turning to gentle thrusts as he finished.

The room felt cold now, and Craig shivered, that throbbing turning away from pleasure and almost entirely into pain, craving release no matter how satisfied Craig tried to tell it he was. "Bloody hell..." He gave a deep sigh of satisfaction, leaving himself totally in Chris's hands - mouth, whatever. He was already gone - this would be a dessert to just lie back and marvel at.

Yes, he could not do for Craig what Craig had done to him; he could only, as he did, grasp Craig's erection tightly, pumping hard.

Craig's mouth opened into a silent scream, and he thrust with the strokes as Chris licked gamely at the head. "Yes..." he sighed, shivering.

Chris sucked the head into his mouth, tasting salty precome, pumping hard, taking deep breaths through his nose to keep his mouth free - and smelling the heady scent of Craig's legs, wishing he could swallow the man whole.

"God, yes!" Craig gasped. He thrust harder, not thinking, feeling so very close as Chris licked and sucked at his head, moving his lips down to take in some of the shaft, stroking firmly what he could not suck in. "Yes, Chris, yes!" Craig's whole body shuddered, and the world went quiet, there being only the two of them, and this joy beyond what should really be possible.

Chris sucked the come and swallowed it, licking the base of Craig's head, running his thumb up the underside of the shaft. He tried to suck and stroke out every shudder of orgasm Craig had in him, trying to make the man feel half as magnificent as he had made Chris feel. As Craig slowed to post-orgasmic limpness, just lying there, breathing, spent, delirious, Chris let the erection fall out of his mouth. "Mmm." Nothing more comprehensible came to mind, so he kissed Craig's thigh.

"It was...." Craig panted, "it was never that good back when we used to get drunk and do this, was it? Must be..." he paused to breathe, "must be getting... better."

Chris had to laugh, somewhat breathlessly. "You're drunk now!" He stroked the leg he had just kissed. Soft skin. Perfect for stroking.

Craig considered this. "Yeah. Room's spinning." Heart spinning. Heart singing. Singing. Joy. He felt a soft, comfortable numbness envelop him, slowly.

Lovely as the thigh was, it was lacking. Chris heaved himself up on an elbow with a grunt, then turned himself around. It required far too much effort; he felt boneless, enervated - in every good way. He collapsed next to Craig, with their heads at the same end of the bed. Craig lay still on his back, looking up at the ceiling, his profile a study in stubborn chin, sensual lips, and expressive nose. Chris studied it as he slid his hand over to stroke Craig's chest.

Craig murmured something about taste. He looked to the side to see Chris. The man raised an eyebrow, and Craig's face mellowed into a loving smile. "Chris, man..." he said, as though remembering, "I love you."

Chris pushed himself up more on his elbow and kissed Craig gently on the lips. "I love you, too, you know."

Craig snuggled close. "Yes. You say. You keep saying. I believe you. Because you keep saying." He frowned. Something about that sounded wrong. Love him? Yes, but he kept saying. Had to take the man at his word. At his mouth. Mouth. Things were growing blurry.

A highly endearing drunk, at the best of times. Fortunately, the worst of times seemed solidly in the past. Chris kissed Craig's forehead. "Just go to sleep."

"You are..." Craig mumbled, then restarted. "Need you, man. Need to be..." his voice turned into incoherent snores.

Chris watched Craig's face fall into the relaxed expressionlessness of sleep. He stroked Craig's chest gently for a while, watching it rise and fall, his lips fluttering slightly. It was almost perfection - but the part that was not perfection grated at the back of his mind, refusing to let him sleep. He struggled out of bed, quietly, and fastened his half-pulled-off trousers, letting his shirt hang out over them. He shuffled into the main room, and started to straighten up what remained of the party's mess, as noiselessly as possible, as Craig stirred uneasily in his sleep.

Fortunately, there was, as he had told Danny, little enough to clean up. Chris was terribly tired, and dreaded to think what he might have faced if it had been anything other than a drinks-only party. He finally finished clearing up stray dishes and wiping up the more egregious spills. He looked the place over once more from the bedroom doorway, judging it to be reasonably in order. It would probably look worse in the morning, but the dim illumination of city light was very forgiving, and he accepted that gratefully. He undressed, putting his clothes next to the bed (would Craig never get a hamper?), and lay down next to Craig again, pulling the man to his chest, feeling very much at peace. And utterly, utterly exhausted. He fell asleep within a few breaths.

By his side, safely enveloped in dreams at last, Craig murmured something unintelligible, and smiled.