He was warm and he was comfortable, an arm wrapped tightly around him while his head rested on something that was also warm and which rose steadily with each of his partner's breaths. Chris... His head was resting on Chris' chest, tucked beneath Chris' chin, and he could hear his lover's heartbeat, slow and steady under his ear. He must have snuggled up to his partner when they were both asleep, his unconscious body ignoring the instructions that were paramount in his waking mind of not being too presumptuous with Chris, not taking things for granted.

For once he let himself enjoy the moment, enjoy the feeling of immense contentment that filled him just from being this close to the man he loved. Chris was asleep. He would never know, never have to be faced with a clinging and needy partner rather than the cool and controlled one he knew he could rely upon. Never regret coming back to Sam.

If he was honest with himself it haunted him sometimes, the thought that one day Chris would wake up and decide that he'd been right the first time and he and Sam didn't have any future together; that he would decide to cut his losses and walk out again. And if he was brutally honest he despised himself for caring that much. Not for caring about Chris - he knew that the American was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him - but for letting his doubts and his neediness consume him. It was only with a great effort that he managed to keep himself in check, not put too much pressure on Chris, not wanting him to feel as though he had to spend his entire life reassuring a borderline neurotic that he loved him and Sam thought that most of the time he succeeded. But it made him wary, wary of saying too much, of touching too much in case he couldn't stop and alienated Chris with his pathetic neediness. Instead he just lived for moments like this, when he could touch and cuddle to his heart's content and not have to worry about the consequences.

Chris stirred slightly beneath him and he tensed, ready to draw away before the American woke. Before he got a chance, the arm around him tightened slightly.

"S'nice," murmured a sleepy voice, rumbling through the body beneath his.

He let himself enjoy the moment for a bit longer. "What is?" he asked quietly.

"Waking up with you," murmured Chris again. "And knowing we don't have to get straight up."

Oh. Part of him had hoped... Never mind.

The body underneath his shifted slightly and he began to move away, apologising, "Sorry. Must be heavy."

"No," protested his lover, sleep still colouring his voice and his arm tightening again. "Like it."

Sam let himself be pulled closer, telling himself that if this was Chris wanting a cuddle it wasn't him being needy and presuming too much and knowing all of the time that it probably was, the self-loathing at his weakness threatening to rise again. He squashed it down angrily. Damn it, he was on holiday and if he couldn't just cuddle up to his lover then...

Emboldened by Chris' happy sigh as he snuggled back in, he risked placing a gentle kiss on his partner's chest, nuzzling there for a moment before settling back with a sigh of his own.

"S'nice too," came that sleepy voice again, this time tinged with amusement. The arm around him tightened for a moment again, Chris' hand skimming lightly up and down his side in an unabashed caress. For a second he envied the man his ability to reach out and touch without a second thought, not worry about being rejected or be considered needy, but with an effort he quashed that thought too. He wasn't going to spoil this, he swore to himself. He wasn't going to fuck up again. Wasn't going to drive Chris away.

With that in mind he allowed himself to return Chris' caress, a little more hesitantly, but rewarded by the rumble of satisfaction he could both hear and feel in Chris' chest.

"S'very nice," purred a voice above him, sounding much more awake this time. "Very nice way to wake up..."

He chuckled lightly. "I'll remember that."

"Do."

The arms tightened around him again for a moment, and then Chris was shuffling down the bed underneath him until their faces were level. He looked tousled and eminently desirable.

"Mornin'" he said cheekily, his dimples prominent and Sam felt his heart give that little lurch it always did in the presence of those dimples. He returned the grin automatically, a little dazzled, and the dimples deepened.

"Morning," he replied, watching as Chris' grin widened and his partner leant in for a kiss. It started off sweet and soft, but didn't stay that way for long, a tide of passion rising up to consume his lover, Chris' hunger clear in the way that he almost devoured Sam's mouth. Knowing that his partner was unrelentingly horny first thing in the morning, Sam didn't even try to slow things down, although a small part of him would have liked to have been able to savour just kissing Chris for a little longer before they moved on to what Chris classed as 'the good stuff'. Instead, he let himself get lost in Chris' touch and taste, in the feel of his lover's lean and fit body pressed hard against his, in the strong fingers stroking up his back and into his hair, in the mouth moving down his body, in the hot and hard length buried in him as a weight pressed him into the mattress.

On his face. As usual.

He came, as he always did, and felt Chris follow him into bliss, his lover's body tensing as Chris emptied himself into his body. For a few seconds he even enjoyed the feel of Chris' satiated weight on him, his partner muttering love words in his ear and pressing mindless kisses against his sweaty hair and skin.

It wasn't until Chris rolled away and dozed back off to sleep that he felt the emptiness rise up and threaten to consume him once more. Not even the arm that Chris left draped casually across his body was enough to stave it off entirely.

*****

The shrill ringing of the phone woke Chris out of his pleasant doze. For once he hadn't been reliving the past but enjoying the present, vaguely aware on some level of Sam's warm body pressed against his in all of the right places. Right up until the point when that anchor was abruptly removed.

"Hello?"

Certain facts made a connection in Chris' sleep befuddled brain. Please, he thought, don't let this be work.

"Jeff!"

Not work. Good. He sank back into the warm and inviting mattress, fully prepared to go back to sleep, but it appeared that Sam and this mysterious Jeff had other ideas. After all, who the hell kept a phone in the bedroom? Unless they were CI5 agents of course.

"Yes, we found it fine." Pause. "Took about three hours." Pause. "Yes, you can tell Trish that for once her instructions were legible."

He raised his head again and glowered blearily in Sam's direction. His partner caught the glare and shrugged sheepishly.

"Hang on, Jeff. I'll take this in the other room. Chris is still trying to get some sleep I think."

Another pause, and a quick glance in his direction while Sam obviously listened to whatever Jeff had to say. It was the glance that grabbed his attention. There was a quality in it that got the hairs on the back of his neck twitching and so he was tuned in to the subtle nuances in Sam's reply.

"Yes, he does."

The slight emphasis on 'he' spoke volumes and he frowned.

Sam threw him another unreadable glance and spoke again. "Hang on." He placed his hand over the mouthpiece of the cordless phone and this time spoke directly to Chris. "I'll just..."

"Sure," he replied, his voice deliberately toneless. He watched Sam head out, into the living room presumably, with yet another shuttered look in his direction.

He. Jeff hadn't known or hadn't picked up on the fact that Chris was a 'he'. He didn't know why that bothered him so much, but it did. Hell, Malone had told them to be discreet but somehow he hadn't thought that meant living a lie.

He. 'He' was obviously a goddamned idiot for thinking that Sam would admit they were together without being pushed to it.

With a muffled oath, he threw back the covers and sat up, dragging his fingers through his disordered hair. No way in hell was he going to go back to sleep now.

Sam was speaking into the phone when he reached the doorway to the small living room. His voice was low, probably to avoid disturbing Chris, but there was no doubting the urgency in it. Or the irritation.

"...my fault? You just don't listen."

Another pause.

"I never said that it was short for Christine, Jeff. You just assumed... Yes, okay but... Yes... Jeff!"

Another pause.

"I'm sure I said he before now, Jeff." Sam gave a little chuckle. "Although I did wonder why Trish wasn't giving me the third degree. I thought she was being unusually tactful. S'pose I know better now."

Beat.

"Yeah, me too."

Another, much longer pause.

"How do you think? You know Dad..." Sam's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Chris lounging in the doorway. His expression grew shuttered again, and Chris fought the urge to scowl. Sam's attention, however, was soon drawn back to the person on the other end of the phone, and Chris continued to lean defiantly in the doorway, watching him and making no secret of the fact that he was listening. To one side of the conversation anyway.

"No."

Pause.

"What do you think?"

Pause.

"I suppose so."

Pause.

How incredibly fucking enlightening. He was in no doubt that Sam was being deliberately obtuse, seeing him eavesdropping, and he didn't bother concealing his irritation. Sam's survival instinct must have kicked in because his lover glanced once more in his direction and then hastily put an end to the call.

"Listen, Jeff. Thanks for calling..."

Oh, thanks ever so.

"... but everything's fine. If we have any problems I'll call."

Pause.

"Uh huh."

Pause.

"Do me a favour, Jeff. Tell her I'll call when we get back and give her chapter and verse as long as she doesn't bother us this week. I wouldn't use those exact words, but you know what I mean."

Pause.

"Thanks, Jeff. Talk to you soon."

Sam disconnected the call, and placed the phone carefully on his knee before looking at Chris, his expression deliberately neutral.

"I take it that was Jeff?" The question was calm and cool and obviously not what Sam had expected, but for once Chris didn't feel like playing according to type. Keep them off balance. Sam had taught him that.

"Yes."

As always Sam was playing his cards close to his chest.

Chris nodded. "Just checking up to see we made it in one piece?" Still pleasant and Sam's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes."

"Nice of him."

He came and sat in the armchair opposite Sam, settling himself in comfortably and giving Sam a small smile. That only made his lover more suspicious, not that he could blame Sam. This psyching the other party out was kind of fun, although he'd be enjoying it more if he wasn't genuinely pissed at the Englishman.

"You were in Edinburgh together, I think you said?"

Sam folded his arms and glared at him. "Get to the bloody point, Chris."

He blinked demurely, all wounded innocence. "Point? I don't have a point. Just making conversation. You know?" His voice hardened. "That thing where you actually talk to one another, tell each other stuff?"

Sam actually glanced away, his expression a little sheepish and Chris moved into the coup de grace.

"And talking of talking, at exactly what point were you going to tell me that you'd told your father about us?"

There was another one of those pregnant silences, although this time Sam didn't have the excuse of someone else on the other end of a telephone line. And then his lover admitted, "I wasn't."

Shit. He let his breath out in one long exhalation, leaning back into the soft embrace of the armchair. "You weren't," he repeated flatly, more a reiteration of the facts than a question.

Sam answered anyway although he looked away as he did so. "There didn't seem much point, Chris." He shrugged. "No point in us both getting ups... annoyed about it."

Upset, his mind supplied. That's what Sam had started to say. Knowing that, he tried very hard to keep the snap of irritation out of his next words. "That's what we're supposed to do, Sam. Get annoyed together."

There was no response to that, and so he pressed further. "When did you tell him?"

Another shrug. "Night before we told Malone."

Shit again. Two and a half goddamned months, and Sam had said nothing! Not a goddamned thing. Just when he thought that they'd finally reached some kind of understanding, Sam pulled a stunt like this. "And you weren't ever planning on telling me that?"

His voice was ice, and that was probably why Sam continued to avoid his gaze. "I only really told Dad because of Malone."

He blinked again, but stayed silent, still too annoyed at his lover to show any weakness and asking what the hell that was supposed to mean. Thankfully for both his sanity and curiosity, Sam explained anyway.

"I thought, that if Malone asked who knew, the fact that Dad knew would mean both that there was no potential for blackmail and... well, that it was serious."

"He didn't ask, though."

"No, but I thought he might."

And, once again, had been calculating odds and working out strategies. Sam was good at that and he was grateful for it - in their working lives. He didn't, however, like it being applied to their personal lives. It was too cold blooded a response for him to be entirely comfortable with it.

"So, why didn't you tell me about it afterwards," he pushed.

"I told you..."

"You didn't want me angry. Well, I am, Sam. I'm angry you didn't tell me."

That finally got Sam looking at him, his lover's face assuming its normal mask-like façade.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he repeated.

Sam searched his face for a long moment before relenting. "We'd only just got back together," he explained. "And I didn't want anything to spoil that, not even Dad's vitriol."

He looked away again, the mask slipping just enough so that Chris could see the tiredness and lingering upset lurking underneath. It tugged at his heartstrings, although he didn't quite unbend enough to let the matter drop entirely. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, however, as he asked, "That bad, huh?"

Sam gave him a faint smile. "Not pleasant," he said. "Still, it's not like we were close anyway."

"No, but even so..."

"Yeah, well. It's done now. Had to happen sooner or later, and at least this way I told him and not someone else." He gave Chris a look that appeared almost hesitant and then spoke again, the words seeming to come rushing out of him. "You've got to understand, Chris. Where I come from... it's just not done. I mean, my Dad and his mates, they still use words like 'wog' never mind 'shirt-lifter'."

He had no idea what the hell 'wog' was supposed to be, but shirt-lifter he could guess at. It was an uncomfortable look into what Sam's childhood must have been like. "I take it he called you that?"

Sam snorted. "Among other things, yes." He gave Chris a wry look. "Let's just say that I don't think we'll be getting any invitations to Christmas dinner."

He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead, and couldn't think about it now. There was something else nagging at him. "Is this why you've been unhappy? 'Cause of what your Dad said?"

He'd never seen the shutters come down quite as fast before as they did now, Sam's expression becoming almost inhuman it was so impassive. "I never said I was unhappy, Chris."

Shit again.

"Sam..."

"I'm fine, Chris. I've coped with worse than my Dad threw at me. Don't worry about it."

But he did.