Breathing by foggynite I'm finding my way back to sanity again There is snow outside, piling against the car and Gabriel loves the challenge driving presents. Loves that he can blank his mind and focus on reacting as opposed to tangent thought. His breath is fogging the window because he can't stand to have the heater running, burning his eyes and his lips. So the car is frigid cold and he just wants to get to Rob's before evening, to get to peace and quiet. The people living in the apartment below him have family over. Loud, obnoxious teenagers with loud, obnoxious thoughts that won't let him get a moment's rest. The infant next door has discovered the joys of banging cookware. The poodle two doors down is in heat. All excuses mainly, but they are what he tells himself he needs to escape, even if Rob wishes he didn't need to make up troubles to approach his home. But it's what Gabriel needs to do, because he can't admit that he needs Rob for the sake of needing. That he wants to watch his best friend laugh, because it makes him feel alive. His tires slip in the ice, and he realizes his mind is wandering, a dangerous thing considering Rob has no idea he's on his way over. If Golden Boy knew he was willingly driving in the middle of a snow storm. . . . Well, Gabriel was hoping he'd be so happy that he made it home safe, Rob will overlook the stupidity. But the weather channel is calling for heavier snows tomorrow, and quite frankly, Gabriel can't stand the thought of staying in his little box, surrounded by noise. Finally, the mailbox is in sight, just barely. The thing is huge, yet almost covered in a tall drift that looks man-made. This, Gabriel has not taken into account. Highway maintenance probably plowed the drive, and Rob's car is nowhere to be seen. Which meant he's most likely on-call at the hospital. There are size 13 boot prints leading away from the house, the compressed snow within them already turned to ice and filled in. He knows there's ice, because every other step he slips, and so he wades through the knee-high accumulation unsteadily. The foyer is frigid cold from the biting snow outside, the metal front door conducting it's chill quite nicely. Gabriel wonders if he should make a fire or something domestic and cozy, then he and Rob can have their own little Norman Rockwell scene when the healer gets home. If he gets home. His fingers are chapped and burning with the return of warmth, and he realizes he's standing blankly in Rob's foyer, staring at the painting Kaitlyn hung there so proudly, and gripping the key Rob gave him so tightly with his hand. His hand that might peel apart from the pressure. He has an image of the dry and crackled flesh splitting, revealing glistening white-yellow knucklebones, and for a moment his hand tingles. Coffee. Coffee or maybe hot chocolate because he loves the taste of bitter sweet cocoa rolling on his tongue, and Rob knows this, so keeps the house well stocked. The house has its own generator, so any power outages won't keep him from his chocolate. He leaves his coat in a soggy pile at the base of the coat rack. Rob will bitch about his hardwood floors later, but oh well. When his shoes reveal themselves to be too slippery on the kitchen linoleum, he leaves those next to the stove, grimacing as the puddles soak into his socks. Rob had a cat once. A scruffy old tom that would twine around your legs every time you entered the kitchen, "just wanting attention," according to Rob. Gabriel was pretty sure the cat knew exactly what he was doing, and wanted to see some bloodshed when his hapless victim face-planted on the floor. Not that the cat was evil or anything. While the fleabag hated him, the tom couldn't get enough of Rob. In that, Gabriel had respected his taste and felt a slight, if jealous, kinship. That's why he hated to be the one to find the scraggly body on the side of the road, nicked by a car and left for dead. The tough little bastard made it three days before giving up, and for once, Rob couldn't heal someone enough. That was a few months ago. Standing at the counter, for a moment he thinks he felt a familiar pressure against the soaking pant leg of his jeans. Looking down in surprise, he sees nothing, but the back of his mind purrs, and he decides he's just spooking himself. "I'm not crazy." The hot chocolate is just as sweet as he remembered, sitting in his mouth and coating his teeth until he rolls it down his throat. It was comforting, to go through the normal motions of being in Rob's house, even though it isn't the first time Rob wasn't there, but this is the first time he felt lost. Like he's the only person left in an amusement park long after the rides were shut down, being teased by the stale smell of cotton candy and peanuts. His socks begin to chaff and bother him, so he cradles his mug carefully, enjoying the burning in his hands, and goes to the guest bedroom. Over the past few months he's been accumulating a drawer full of his own clothes, mostly stuff left behind when he spent the night and stole a clean whatever from Rob in the morning. He digs into there now, looking for a pair of socks that weren't meant for summer. When he finally finds a pair and reaches down to take the wet ones off, he realizes he hasn't bathed in a few days. Feeling like Goldilocks for a second, he decides to take advantage of the whirlpool-bath tub-jacuzzi thing Rob gave himself for Christmas. He never really goes into Rob's bedroom, like if he does, he'll want to stay, and he isn't sure if he wants that. Maybe he does. Each day he thinks it over and likes the idea more, likes the thought of his cold skin touching Rob's warmth and soaking it in. Surveys the pristine bathroom floor with new plush rugs, and wonders what it would feel like to be trapped between the cold tiles and Rob's heat. Shivers, and starts running the bath. The steaming water in the tub turns his skin pink the second he sinks in, but it's a nice burning, like the sting in his fingertips after holding the mug. He feels sweaty and greasy in the humidity, though, and starts scrubbing until the water is murky with soap. He tries one of his calming exercises, imagines the stress of his world rinsing away in great sheets to collect in the water around him. All the screaming, the want the need, in his head, his pores, his body, and it's being scrubbed away by one of the natural sponges Rob insists on. This grey-black feeling gathering in the water around him, and he releases the stopper, watching the dirty water drain slowly away, swirling down into the drain. He's sitting naked in his sorta-boyfriend's bathtub, fingers pruned and skin rapidly cooling despite the heat from the vents, and he decides he feels better. The quiet, at least, is soothing to his battered mind, and he feels like someone who has finally stopped poking at a bone-deep bruise. The bruise is still sore and there, but not throbbing as noticeably. Giving himself a shake, he rises slowly from the tub, tailbone sore from sitting so long on the hard surface. There are towels waiting, hung right over the air vent and still warm. Rob thinks of those kinds of things, and sometimes Gabriel feels inadequate when reminded of Golden Boy's kindness, because those gestures would never occur to him. The towels are warm and wrap around him like a comforting touch, and he realizes that he is trying to put himself back together after being away for only two days. He worries that he's become overly dependent on Rob for his sanity, that he's using his friend as a crutch to keep from facing his reality. And that weakness bothers him. He leaves the hot chocolate mug on the edge of the tub, knowing the sight of it will drive Rob crazy. But he makes a mess on purpose, because he likes having Rob bitch, likes knowing that someone cares. That Rob cares. The master bedroom has a king-size bed, which Gabriel perches on the edge of, absently fingering the cotton quilt. A sigh and he flops back, letting the towel slip and staring at a white ceiling that is the same as his own apartment's but, for some reason, seems so much better. Closing his eyes, he lets the weariness overtake him. Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying Even if you don't wanna speak tonight Cold fingers on his cheek bring him to wakefulness. The room is dark now, but light from the bathroom lends him some visibility. He's still flat out on his back across the bed, and there's someone lying stretched out next to him. ~Bone tired and screaming children ~ flu ~ sick nurses ~ standing for fourteen hours straight ~ slipping all over the road ~ Rob's frozen fingers continue to stroke his face reverently, sliding down to his lips. Unconsciously, Gabriel kisses the tips nearest. Propped up on one elbow, Rob is staring down at him with tired, glazed eyes. The fingers still on his lips when Rob realizes he's staring back. With a smile, Gabriel reaches up languidly, touching the puffy skin beneath golden eyes, the gold fuzz at his temples, the light scruff on his cheeks. Mapping the planes of his face, returning Rob's earlier exploration. Like a cat being scratched just the right way, Rob's eyes drift shut. The fist holding his head up slowly slips out from under his head, and Gabriel's awed by the emotions the sight unearths. This trust can't be warranted, can't be in him, of him, for him. There's been this fear in his chest, fear that if he reaches out and holds the love being offered to him, it will break, disintegrate, drain away through his fingers. He's carding those fingers through Rob's hair, watching the blonde-brown strands move across his joints, and he realizes that Rob has been waiting for him. Offering comfort and support, and what has Gabriel given him? He realizes the towel has completely slipped away, and thinks this should be awkward, but it's not. Rob is lying on his back now, breathing evenly, and it's soothing to Gabriel's ears, and he's happy that Rob is here, home and alive. "Quit thinking so loud," the lips beneath his fingertips murmur with a smile. Gabriel smirks and leans forward, feeling Rob's breath on his face. He pauses, looking down for a moment and memorizing every shadow, every nuance of the countenance below him. The body beneath him tenses as he slides a leg over it, and Rob slowly opens his eyes, a silent question. Intently watching, scrutinizing as Gabriel runs his fingers over softly chapped lips again, he follows a path up to the tender skin of his eyes, and they fall close, breath leaving Rob in a quiet rush. He can feel the healer's arousal through the slacks separating them, can feel the burning heat where their bodies touch, and his fingertips dip to the collar of the dress shirt all the doctors are required to wear. The buttons are harder to undo from this angle than on himself, and he frowns a little until the top two are hanging open. Rob is breathing carefully, each intake of air carefully controlled and measured. His stubby nails scratch the hollow of Rob's throat lightly, just a slight touch along the tendons of his neck, and the other man's hips buck reflexively, a quick jerk that's suppressed just as rapidly. Smiling, Gabriel leans forward, dry lips brushing against the sensitive skin, and he's rewarded with a choked gasp. The smooth skin is so hot, fiery heat blazing against his coldness, and he burrows his face into the crook of Rob's shoulder, holding still and letting his body absorb the moment. Unmoving, Rob allows him to set the pace and for that he is thankful. Inhaling the scent of sweat and antiseptic and summer, Gabriel pulls back to gaze into Rob's smiling eyes. His hands in motion again, he caresses Rob's rough cheek as he leans gradually down, and the touch of their lips is a benediction, an act of genuflection Gabriel will never renounce. He breaks away, looks down again and sees only encouragement, devotion. A curtain of black hair falls around them the next time their lips meet, and their breath mixes, swirls together between them, and there is silence. Chests pressed tight together, the buttons of Rob's shirt a comforting discomfort, hips grinding rhythmically together. Rob's hands finally reach for him, fingers holding his hips with a blistering grip, the healer branding flesh with the rasp of his chin. Shaking slightly, Gabriel undoes the belt clasp digging into his abdomen, pushes at expensive material already wet and staining, pushes at soft elastic and silk. Gasps and thrusts harder against the hard flesh beneath him. He wants to feel every inch of the beautiful man writhing under his lips, wants to fall into and through and be wrapped in the warmth of Rob. Hasn't reached out with his mind, and is proud that he can do something normal, something as human as loving someone else, holding someone else. Thrusting up and pushing down, they tangle together until their limbs are fused tight. Panting, flushed and the heavy musk of sex surrounds them, driving them forward with abandon. Tucking his head tightly against Rob's shoulder, he feels the other man's teeth digging into his collar bone, knows there will be a mark and the thought tightens his body like a bow string, and he's groaning into Rob's hair, engulfed by him. ~Love you ~ Need you ~ Want love have ~ Always~ A scorching heat rages through him, scouring his body hollow and searing his thoughts in a white hot blaze that leaves him blind, gasping, shaking. Another thrust and Rob is digging his fingers into the firmness of his ass hard enough to leave bruises, and their stomachs are wet, sticky, but still pressed together, chests heaving. After a moment Gabriel pushes back, propping himself up on his elbows and he realizes how tired Rob looks as the healer reclines with closed eyes. Grimaces at the imprints of buttons on his bare chest and silently apologizes to Rob. "If I had the energy, I'd give you more than button marks. The hickey will have to do for now," Rob grumbles contentedly, not opening his eyes. With a low laugh, Gabriel swings his leg over his lover's prone body and reaches for the tissue box, careful not to drip on the comforter. Rob chuckles. ~ I can't feel my toes. I could care less about the blankets. ~ ~You say that now, but when you wake up and find a spot, you'll freak. ~ Another chuckle, and Gabriel cleans him up the best he can without moving him, pulling off the practical white sneakers and dress pants, which had gathered around Rob's knees in their distraction. The still buttoned shirt is another story, considering the bottom half is soaked in the front. "I don't suppose you can sit up?" "Not really. But I'll try." Lifting the muscled, compact body, feeling the play of tendons beneath his hands, Gabriel is amazed at the normalcy in his movements, the complete ease at which they're functioning. They had been dancing around this for months, at times seeming to loom closer only to back away quickly, and now that it happened, he realizes that the time is just right. Amid more grumbling, he gets Rob under the covers once they're both stripped down and slides in behind him, wrapping his arms around the bulked chest. Enjoying the warmth, the feel of fresh cotton sheets against his naked skin, the tickle of downy leg hair against the inside of his ankle as their legs tangle together. And it feels. good. Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying The digital display winking obnoxiously at him says it's three o'clock in the morning. He rolls back over, intent on burrowing into the cocoon of his covers once more, but realizes belatedly that the other side of the bed is empty. A quick reach of his mind, and he locates Rob in the kitchen, thoughts a quiet lull. Nothing's wrong, but he pulls himself from the bed anyway, wanting company and contact and warmth. Shivering, he blindly opens the lower dresser drawer, stealing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. The next drawer up has sweatshirts, and he silently thanks Rob for supplying the visual information. The healer is standing at the large bay window, kitchen darkened, staring out over the pristine white of the back yard. Memories of other snowstorms dart across his mind like fish in a pond, just under the surface, and Gabriel lets them flow past. He comes to stand next to Rob silently, shoulder to shoulder, and accepts the offered mug of cocoa with a smile. They lean against each other for endless minutes, just the sound of the wind howling outside the glass and their light breathing. "I love you," Gabriel states, lets him know because he forgot to tell people in the past, and hopes that Rob understands. He does. Its where I wanna be fin