It was over three weeks before Chris had a chance to even be alone in the same room with Sam for more than five minutes.  To say that he’d been dreading this moment was an understatement.  Dreading it and longing for it in equal measure.

Three weeks since that dreadful night in Sam’s apartment and his drunken confession.  Three weeks since Sam and he had had a proper conversation, namely one that didn’t revolve solely around work.  Chris had tried once or twice to broach the subject in the odd few minutes they’d been alone in the car, or in their temporary HQ, but Sam had been ruthless in refusing to discuss anything but their current case.  The fact that their current case had been intensive and convoluted had aided Sam in his apparent obsession to avoid the subject at all costs.  Chris was beginning to feel that the cost may ultimately be their partnership.

Chris started to get comfortable now they were back in their room, kicking his shoes across the floor so that one ended up lying by the bathroom door and the other under the small vanity unit, ignoring his partner’s rolled eyes at his normal untidy habits as he did so.  He settled down on the end of the bed with a sigh, which was ignored by Sam.  Normally he would have been quite pleased that Backup had only managed to reserve a twin for the two of them, and not just because of his burgeoning feelings for his partner, but because under normal circumstances Sam was very good company.  They’d had to share on a number of occasions, personal comfort as always giving way to budgetary constraints, and strangely enough it had been fun, Sam’s dry comments about the day gone and the individuals they’d interacted with always being amusing.  There was no running commentary tonight, thought Chris, trying very hard not to stare at his partner’s back as Sam unpacked the few things from his overnight bag, putting them away neatly.  He wondered if it was too early to hit the bar and drown his sorrows.  On the other hand, the last time he did that…

Chris’ reverie was interrupted by his partner’s voice.  “Mind if I use the shower first?”

“No.”

Sam started to shrug out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair in front of the vanity before starting to unbutton his shirt.  Chris resolutely kept staring straight ahead.  He couldn’t believe this.  Was Sam taunting him?  Flaunting what he now knew he couldn’t have in front of him?  Was it just Sam being once again oblivious to the emotional undercurrents and Chris’ body language?  Or was it some clumsy attempt to indicate that their relationship wasn’t going to change, that Chris’ declaration of love and lust wasn’t going to affect the way his friend acted around him?  In short was Sam just going to ignore the issue?  His attitude over the last few weeks had Chris thinking that perhaps that was exactly what the Englishman was going to do.

“So which of Malone’s suggestions do you want to do first?”  Sam was still speaking, and Chris’ attention was reluctantly drawn back to him.  For a long moment he just stared at Sam, frowning slightly as he watched Sam unbutton his cuffs.  “Chris?  Hello?  Still with me, mate?”

Malone’s suggestions.  What was it that Malone had said?  Oh, something about a debrief tomorrow, and in the meantime they should get some sleep, or if they felt the urge to explore make damn sure they stayed out of trouble this time.  Chris had been too tired and too miserable to do more than listen with half an ear, letting his boss’ borderline rant pass straight over his head.

Sam was still staring at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised.  “Oh.  Whatever.  What do you want to do?”

Sam gave him a long, keen look before answering.  “Personally, I’m up for a little exploring.”

Chris sighed heavily.  “Sam, I’m not sure I’m up to tramping all over this godforsaken town.”

“Who said anything about the town?”

He must be more tired than he thought since he normally managed to follow Sam’s thought processes.  He was completely lost this time.  He could do nothing but stare at his partner in confusion for a long time before Sam took pity on him, sitting on the bed next to him.

“I’m not entirely sure how to do this.”

“Do what?”  There was now genuine irritation in Chris’ voice.  He was tired, he was cranky and he was also aware that Sam’s shirt had gaped open when he’d sat down, and he was fed up with fighting this.  His partner’s obliviousness wasn’t improving his mood.  “Do what, Sam?”

Now he was treated to a sight he’d never seen before.  Sam was actually fidgeting, twisting the buttons on his shirt and avoiding his eyes.  It didn’t last long; he could almost pinpoint the moment that Sam had himself under control again, running his palms down over his thighs before turning to face him.

“Seduce my male partner.”

Chris gaped at him.  In all the nightmare and not so nightmare scenarios that had run through his mind over the last few weeks this one had not featured.  The best that he had hoped for was that Sam wouldn’t demand another partner and that somehow they’d get past this and salvage their friendship.  In his darkest moments he’d thought that overly optimistic.  And now the object of a thousand fantasies was trying to seduce him?  It didn’t make sense.

Sam was watching him with familiar detached amusement.

“Don’t do that,” he snarled.

“What?”  There was genuine bemusement in Sam’s expression now.

“Laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” protested his partner.

“I won’t have you pitying me.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving pity fucks.”  Sam’s voice was ice, a tone Chris had heard before but rarely directed at him.  “What the hell do you want from me, Keel?  You get drunk and make a pass at me, taking me completely by surprise, and then when I indicate that it might not be entirely unwelcome you take my bloody head off!”  Sam leapt to his feet, and stalked away.  “I think I’ll have that shower now.”  His tone was now distant and still cold.

“Sam…  I’m sorry,” Chris stammered out.  “It’s just…  You haven’t said anything since…  You’ve barely spoken to me…”

Sam finally turned to look at him, his face not quite as cold, but still wary.  “We had a case,” he said, exasperated.

“Yes, I know but…”

“What’s the first rule,” Sam interrupted.

“Never get emotionally… oh.”

“Oh, yes.  Work first.  Everything else after.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“Honestly?”  Chris searched his partner’s now expressionless face before continuing.  “I half expected to be hauled into Malone’s office and either assigned to another partner or told to hit the road.”

“You actually thought that I would do that to you?  You actually thought that after almost two years of working together I would betray you like that?”  If Chris had thought Sam’s voice cold before, that was nothing to it now.  He sighed, refusing to look away.

“You would have been within your rights.  And a lot of people would.”

“Not me.”

“No.  But when you said nothing, acted like it never happened, I…”

“Got scared.”  Chris didn’t need to answer that.  The truth of the statement was written all over his face.  He shrugged dismissively, avoiding looking at his partner.  Sam settled himself back down beside him with a sigh.  “Me too,” he admitted, and Chris had to appreciate how much that admission would have cost him.  “Can we start again?”

“What do you suggest?” asked Chris, his mouth dry.

“This.”

As kisses went, it was short, tentative and rather passionless.  Chris remedied that on the next kiss, sliding one hand up into Sam’s hair to pull him closer and teasing Sam’s lips with his tongue until he was permitted access.  Much better.  Much, much better.  Sam’s mouth was hot and wet and sweet.  He could taste the lingering flavour of the one glass of wine Sam had permitted himself to have with lunch, once they’d known that they wouldn’t be called back on duty.  It complemented the taste of his partner very well.  He plundered that mouth to his heart’s content, Sam not protesting as he took his time.  Kissing a man was very different to kissing a woman.  Not necessarily better in Chris’ opinion, and definitely not worse, but different.  The taste, for one thing, and the way that his stubble brushed against you while your mouths mated.  Very different.  Kissing Sam, though, was something else entirely.

Chris finally released Sam’s mouth with a small, satisfied sigh.  From the slightly glazed look in his partner’s eyes, he assumed that Sam had also enjoyed the experience.  They should talk, he knew.  Talk about what had happened, about why Sam had changed his mind.  But he’d been so miserable the last three weeks in those few quiet periods when he’d had time to do anything but his job.  He was tired of feeling miserable, tired of feeling lonely.  Tired of not having Sam.  It wasn’t just sex he wanted, he wanted it of course, but he also wanted to feel close to Sam again, to feel that everything was going to be okay.

Sam was watching him, a little nonplussed at his silence.  He shifted his position until he was facing his partner, twisting awkwardly on the bed to do so.  It didn’t get him close enough.  Right now he wanted every inch of his body pressed against Sam’s, but he had a distinct feeling that if he threw him down on the bed that for all his vaunted control Sam would freak out.  Although Sam had initiated this encounter, he was tuned enough into him that he could feel the undercurrent of nervousness within the Englishman.  So slow and steady was the key, not that Chris was objecting.  He’d fantasised enough about this moment that he wanted to savour every second.