Pairing: Justin and Chris
Words: glacier; meek; loathe; adultery


Meek is not something Chris does.  Chris does not do meek.  Hence,
when Chris starts acting meek, something is wrong.  This is the
first rule of dating Chris.  Really.  Justin has them written down
somewhere.  Anyway, Chris is being all meek and mild and that means
something's wrong.  But is it something Chris did or will do?  Or
something bad that happened to him?  Justin must figure this out. 
So, he packs Chris up in the Yukon and starts driving.  To Canada.

Chris clears his throat.  "Um.  Where are we going?"

"Canada," Justin replies calmly.

Chris blinks.  "We're still in Florida," he points out.

"Then it'll be a long drive."

"Okay."  Chris nods and looks out the window.

Justin gets on the interstate, sets the cruise at about ten miles
over the speed limit, and puts his hand on Chris's thigh.  "You
gonna tell me what's wrong, Chris?" he asks casually.

"Nothing's wrong.  I'm not the one who suddenly up and decided to
drive to Canada."

"Okay," Justin sighs, squeezing Chris's leg.  "Whenever."  Two
hours later, after they've stopped for junk food and gas, Justin
says, "You know that whatever it is, is okay, right?  As long as
you didn't commit adultery.  You didn't, did you?"

Chris stares at him.  "I have no idea what you're talking about. 
Not only did I not ge-- never mind."

Justin sighs again.  "Good, okay."

"Is, um, something wrong?  You could tell me if something's wrong. 
Really."

Justin looks at Chris incredulously.  "Me?  You're the one who's
acting all meek and stuff.  You only do that when something's
wrong."

Chris gives him a confused look.  "Huh?"

"Yeah, right, Mr. Glacier, butter wouldn't melt.  You're all
subdued.  You haven't jumped on anyone for over a week and you
haven't tried to shave my hair off or run with scissors for longer
than that.  I know something's wrong."

Chris snickers.  "Run with scissors.  Oh, I gotta do that now."

Justin rolls his eyes.  "You know what I mean."

"So I acted like a grown up for a while.  Big deal.  It doesn't
have to mean something."

"It does when it's you," Justin insists.

Chris puts his head back against the seat, eyes closed.  "Fine,
then.  I'm sorry.  Tomorrow I put bees in your underpants. 
Whatever."

Justin frowns.  "Chris, I love you.  Can't you tell me what's going
on?"

"Not fair.  Using the 'love' card."

"'All's fair in love and war.'"

"Nothing's going on.  Everything's fine.  Except we're going to
Canada for some unknown reason."

"I thought you might wanna play hockey."

Chris snorts.  "So we rent a place at home.  No big deal."

"I thought you might want to see snow?" Justin tries.

"Been there, done that.  Looks real pretty in the air and like shit
after a couple of days on the ground."

Justin sighs.  "We can go home right now if you tell me what's
going on."

Chris doesn't open his eyes.  "Nothing's going on.  Maybe I just
don't feel like being me lately."

"I love you," Justin points out.  "What's wrong with being you?"

Chris opens his eyes slowly, like he's really tired and it takes a
lot of effort to do so.  "What's wrong with me being like this?" 
His mouth twists.  "You love me, but who's me?"

"If you're happy, there's nothing wrong with you being like this. 
But you don't *seem* happy.  And I love you.  You're Chris, my best
friend and the one who won't let my ego eat me.  And the one I can
turn to when I have nightmares.  And the one who will love me, even
when I'm a bitchy diva.  That's who."

"I'm not happy," Chris admits.  "But I don't want to be nagged at
or fixed."

"Okay," Justin agrees.  "Do you want to go home?  Maybe you'll like
Canada."

"Whichever."  Chris closes his eyes again.

Justin sighs and starts looking for a place to spend the night.  He
knew they should have left earlier in the day.  Eventually, he
finds a motel in a state park.  After a half hour, he's got the
keys to a 'rustic cabin', which is sort of frightening.  "Number
five," he tells Chris, then picks up all their bags.  After all, he
*did* force Chris to come.

Chris makes sure the Yukon is locked up and trails after Justin. 
He didn't pack for this little adventure; Justin had done that for
him.

In the cabin -- which is surprisingly nice -- Justin puts down
their bags.  He waits until Chris has come in and locked the door
to approach him.  "Hug?" he offers, holding his arms out.

Chris shudders, and moves like a very old man to let Justin embrace
him.  His head drops to Justin's shoulder, and his hands rest on
Justin's waist, just sitting there.

Justin holds Chris for a long time, standing in the dark room and
rocking slightly.  Eventually he murmurs, "Climb up."  Chris hops
and Justin lifts, and he carries Chris the short distance to the
bedroom.  He settles on the bed, sitting up with Chris still
clinging to him.  "Love you," he whispers, kissing Chris's temple.

"Love you, too.  You're being stupid if you think I don't."

"I know you do," Justin assures Chris, holding tighter.  "I don't
doubt you, Chris.  I just want to be with you."

"You're with me," Chris says.  He doesn't lift his head.  He's
drained.

"Yeah, I am," Justin answers.  "Not going anywhere."

"Except to Canada."

"Ah, but I'm going with *you*."

Chris laughs a little.  It's hoarse and not happy.  "Yeah.  You're
going to Canada."

Justin doesn't know what to do.  This is beyond him.  "Canada's
just an excuse, you know.  Something different, so it's okay to
break routine.  Like, it's okay for me to say that I'm scared for
you and I'd love to help you, if you'll let me.  Instead of just
grunting and jumping you."

"What if I told you that I'm going to Canada already?  That I was
always going to Canada?  But that you aren't going with me."

Justin's eyes are closed.  He's glad they are.  "I'd give you the
keys to the Yukon and tell you not to be a stranger.  And that you
can always come back, the same or different.  You're welcome."

Chris' eyes are suspiciously wet.  "Idiot child.  It's not about me
wanting or needing to go.  It just is."

"I didn't say you wanted to go.  I didn't say you needed to.  I
said that it just is.  And I'll just... let it be."  Justin kisses
Chris's eyelids, tasting salt and sorrow.

"I don't want you to let it be.  *I* don't want to let it be."

"Then we'll fight it."

Chris laughs a little.  "Things are always so easy for you.  I envy
that.  Yes, no, black, white, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  I
think I probably hang onto you to get more of that in my life. 
That kind of surety and confidence."

Justin smiles silently.  "It's not so much surety and confidence as
determination.  The things that are worth fighting for-- I'll
fight.  And I won't stop unless one of four people tells me to. 
And probably not even then."

"Kinda figured as much."  Chris pulls away from Justin and flops on
the bed, lying on his stomach.  "So, okay, there's something I
haven't told you.  And it's big.  Huge, to me.  I loathe it with
every fiber of my being.  But I can't find a way out."

Justin lays next to Chris, reaching out to rub his back.  "What is
it, Chris?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Chris mumbles into the pillow. 
"Don't want to make it real."

"I get that," Justin replies, continuing to rub Chris's back.

"I was thinking," Chris says quietly.  "Of going to Canada all by
myself.  Without telling you or anyone else I was going.  Just
doing it, and if I came back, great.  And if I didn't, then, well. 
At least I wouldn't have to deal with months of people harassing me
not to go or reassuring me that I was coming back even when I don't
know and nobody knows.  Like Lance and the space thing.  Not going
would've been easier, less of a disappointment, if everyone hadn't
expected him to go."

"Maybe, yeah."

"So, yeah.  I'm going to Canada, and I don't know if I'm coming
back, and I don't really wanna go, but there isn't an alternative." 
Chris' breathing is unsteady.

Justin moves to half cover Chris with his body.  "Can we drop the
metaphor?"

"Don't wanna."

"Please, Chris?" Justin asks, voice rough.

Chris gropes blindly for Justin's hand and, finding it, clings
tight.  "So, once upon a time, there was this really stupid guy who
liked jumping on people and acting like a maniac and generally
abusing his body.  Then he grew up, and as he grew up, doing the
stuff he liked doing got more and more painful.  He told himself
that this was because he did so much, and that dancing the night
away was ruining him and that it was just something that happens. 
That he could slow down and it would all go away.  Then he slowed
down.  And it didn't go away.  It just got worse.  And so the
really stupid guy finally does something smart.  He goes to see a
magician about the problem.  And the magician tells him that, yes,
you've been really stupid and you should slow down, but also,
there's a piece of evil bone left over from some escapade that a
smart person would never have done and it's been in your body for
years, sawing at an important part of you.  That your stupidity is
killing you and that you have to remove the evil.  Except that it's
been too long and the evil is deep inside you and if the magician
tries to remove it, it might just break you anyway.  The end.  For
now."

Justin holds Chris tightly, blankets him completely and holds him
in the curve of Justin's strong, young, showy body as if it will
change the truth.  It might be minutes or hours later.  Time is
measured only in the sound of their breathing, alternately rough
and smooth, deep and shallow.  "Are you sure you don't want any
company?  Magicians can be tricky, you know.  And their assistants
are stingy about the magic fairy dust."

"Wouldn't have told you if I didn't," Chris says.  "I'm scared
stiff of what's gonna happen, and worse about what I'm gonna do if,
if... y'know, it ends up that I do a Christopher Reeve.  I can't...
I can't do that.  I wanna go to Canada before I do that."

"Okay.  Then Canada, it is.  And I'll take care of you.  If you do
a Christopher Reeve.  I know you.  I know what to do."  Justin
ducks his head and kisses Chris's temple.  "Are you hitting Canada
in the Yukon, or should we go back for your RV?"

Chris chokes out a sob.  "I don't know why I'm in love with a moron
like you.  Probably because I'm a bigger moron."  He turns over and
let Justin see the tears standing in his eyes.  He hasn't cried
about this before now, but then, he hasn't *talked* about it
either.  Even his mom doesn't know.  He reaches up and touches
Justin's face.  "That time," he says softly, "I was talking about
the metaphorical Canada."

Justin ducks his head against Chris's neck for a moment.  "Yeah,
well.  Takes one to know one and all that.  I love you, Chris.  I
love you with everything that I am.  And anything you need to do? 
You go do it.  I'll go with you, if I can.  And when I can't --
well, I'll catch up eventually."

Chris wraps his arms around Justin and, for the first time, really
cries.  "Love you," he gets out between tears.  "Imbecile."

Justin laughs, then holds Chris as tight as he can -- carefully --
and cries along.

After the tears are all gone and there's nothing left but the two
of them, after they've been lying there in silence for a long time,
Chris says, "How about we put off going to Canada for now?  See
what happens?"

"Sounds good to me.  But I still get to sleep in the RV.  You know,
for the *feel* of it."

"Yeah, well, the RV isn't gonna do all that much good for now,
seeing as how we're off to see the wizard."

"So what?  I'm gonna sleep in the *garage* in the RV."

Chris chuckles and closes his eyes.  "If you wanna.  I never did
want to go to Canada in the first place."

Justin smiles and kisses Chris for a long time.  When they're done,
when they're lying under the blankets and ready to sleep, he says,
"Yeah.  But you've got to love a country whose national anthem
exists just to remind them where they are."

"Better than a country where no one in it knows the right words to
their national anthem," Chris mumbles and curls up tight.  "We'll
get there someday.  I just don't wanna go now.  Okay?"

"Not a problem," Justin says, curling around Chris.  "I don't
really like hockey anyway."