WAVERING

by Alison

Feedback to: xalison@excite.com, lammasday@yahoo.com

Pairing and Category: Langly/Byers slash/romance

Disclaimer: They're not mine etc

Archive: The Lone Slasher, WWOMB, Basement, Ephemeral, Gossamer, anyone else just ask

Spoilers: Nope

Summary: Missing scene from the "Waiting" series: between 5 and 6 I guess. Let's call it Part 5.5.

NOTE: The story so far: Langly wants Byers: Byers has only just found out. Langly doesn't know he knows. With me so far?


WAVERING
by Alison

Langly POV

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

I can't keep my hands off him much longer. Not if he goes on acting the way he is.

I noticed it when Mel left at the weekend to go up to New York for a few days' vacation, leaving us two alone here. John has been acting kinda weird ever since.

If I didn't know him so well, I'd bet he knew how I feel about him and he was doing it deliberately to drive me nuts. But *Byers* acting like that? Our Narc? No way.

It started that first morning. I drag myself out of bed as usual at about 11 am - well that's still *morning* isn't it, just? And he's there at his computer as usual. But in old jeans and a teeshirt. On a Monday morning. I mean, this is Byers?

He looked at me kinda disapprovingly, the way he's taken to doing recently. Seems like he's even more Narc now than ever, like he doesn't even want to be in the same room as me anymore. Like he doesn't trust me anymore. Some times recently I've brushed past him and he's jumped about a foot in the air, like I had some kind of disease or something.

I don't know what I've done to piss him off. Well, apart from coming home smashed the other night when he had to put me to bed. But he's done that before and never made a big deal of it before now.

It's killing me. If I can't even live with him anymore, if he doesn't want me around, then that's the end. I'd have to leave. Move out, tell the guys I had to find a place of my own. Then I'd only see him in work time.

I don't think I could stand that.

So anyway, that first morning when I go in, he gets up and says "Coffee's nearly ready. Want some?" I mutter thanks, yes, and he heads for the kitchen.

Two minutes later there's a yelp from the kitchen and a clatter like something fell on the floor. I get up and go to look, and he's there, there's a pool of coffee in the middle of the floor, and he's standing there with his wet teeshirt in his hand and wiping at his chest with a towel. He looks up at me, blushing. God, he's such a wuss. He didn't want me to see him without his shirt!

I've seen him like that a hundred times before of course. In the bathroom or changing or whatever. And in my dreams. In my dreams more and more, and a lot more than just looking at him.

But my god he's worth looking at. He's slim built, but there's not an ounce of fat on him, it's all muscle. Lean and firm and hard. Nicely defined biceps, his arms look strong. Good pecs too. Nipples the colour of copper coins. Pale skin, so smooth . . . some freckles to go with his dark red hair. His hair . . . not much hair on his chest, smooth bare skin just the way I like it. Just a faint trail down his stomach, leading down to his navel and further down, down . . . God, if only he knew what it does to me just to look at him . . .

I manage to drag my eyes away and look up. He's scarlet with embarrassment, red hot. He's stammering something about spilling the coffee.

So what do I do now . . . my first impulse is to make like I want to check that he hasn't burned himself . . I could ask him, tell him to let me see, get a wet cloth and bathe his chest . . . and then maybe take it from there . . .

But no. He'd freak. He has no idea how I feel. But he does know my preferences, and if I was to start getting touchy-feely with him . . . we wouldn't see him for dust.

So I just stand there and he does too, like he's expecting me to do something. Then if anything he blushes even more. The flush spreads even over his chest when he's really flustered. God, he's so cute . . . you know when I don't actually want to fuck him (which is most of the time) I'd just want to take care of him. Protect him from the big bad world.

So anyway we're both just standing there and suddenly it's like he's *mad* at me for some reason. Mutters something like "you're a lot of help" and pushes past me mumbling something about going to change. He goes into his room and the door slams so hard the whole room shakes.

I decide I ought to do something about cleaning up the mess, so I get a cloth and mop up the coffee. And you know what was weird? The coffee was stone cold.



END