Title: Five Things the Muse Knows About Chris and Buck
Author: hardboiledbaby
Fandom: Magnificent Seven
Pairing/Characters: Chris/Buck
Rating: R
Length: 1,106 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for the "five things" challenge. Beta'd by the fantabulous solosundance, and based on a pairing meme stolen from her, as well. :) The muse tinkered after the fact, all errors belong to her.
Summary: Purty much what it says on the label.

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WHAT THEY MOST COMMONLY DO DURING SEX

Well, they fuck, of course. Beyond that, they don't have a name for what they do. There simply isn't one in easy reach, at least as far as Buck can tell.

Sometimes they collide, a maelstrom of need and hunger, of want and frustration, of anger and despair. In the aftermath of the storm they might cling together, but only as spent and shipwrecked men are wont to do, out of sheer reflex and an instinctual need to survive, to breathe.

Other times, it is almost playful, a friendly wrangle between the sheets. Almost, because even in the friendliest of games there is a winner and a loser. And neither of them much like to lose. So they wrestle and rough-house, eyes glinting and teeth bared, laughing all the while.

Then there are the times when defenses are lowered, lust is tempered with tenderness, and they can lie quiet and still in each other's arms, listening to hearts beating in tandem. Rare and fleeting moments, but all the more precious for that. Buck savors them and knows Chris does the same, although they've never said so aloud.

What they do—they don't try to put a name to it. They can't, even if they wanted to.


WHO HAS THE PRETTIER HAIR

Buck would probably laugh if you asked (always assuming he didn't hit you first), but Chris knows Buck is rather proud of his hair, in a careless sort of way. It is, after all, part of his animal magnetism. He takes pains to keep it presentable, as much as circumstances allow. And Chris does like Buck's hair, if only as something to grip tightly when he is kissing Buck, holding Buck's head firmly in his hands as he takes his mouth, hard and fast and deep.

Chris, for his part, can't really be bothered to fuss about his own hair, barely managing much beyond keeping it cut and washed. Still, if Buck wants to reach over and smooth it down, as he absently does from time to time, Chris won't object. Having that big hand cup the back of his head, then stroke down and come to rest, warm and steady, on the nape of his neck... no, Chris won't object at all.


WHAT THEY ARGUE ABOUT MOST OFTEN

Arguing with Buck when Buck doesn't want to argue is an exercise in futility. Chris finds this somewhat comforting, but mostly it's an almighty annoyance.

Chris realizes he is—occasionally—an ornery pain in the ass. He makes no apologies for it, but he is also aware that Buck puts up with his orneriness with a surprising amount of patience, all things considered. Which is not to say Buck can't be as mule-headed as Chris, or as spectacularly hot-tempered. He surely can be, and Chris has the scars, metaphorical and otherwise, to prove it. Buck has no problem whatsoever with a good old-fashioned row. He'd just much rather go fishing.

Lazy-assed complacency, Chris calls it when he's trying to pick a fight, but deep down he knows better. Buck cares about him deeply, wants to stand with him, not against him. Knows him. Forgives him. Loves him.

Contrary fool that he is, sometimes that just gets his back up even more. Because Chris is, well, Chris: ornery, yes; but also jealous, impatient, and scared besides. And Buck is, well, Buck.

Yet what they have works, somehow, in spite of them. A small miracle, Chris supposes. Buck, for all his flirtatious ways, has proven beyond any doubt where his loyalties are. Where his heart is. Chris has learned to rein in his temper some; a lesson hard-won and one that sometimes needs repeating. They have their share of dark days and maybe they always will, but the hardest part of their journey is behind them. Chris is as sure of this as he is of anything in this life: a solid truth, as solid and real as Buck himself.

Maybe it's not such a small miracle, after all.


WHO'D COPE BEST IF THE OTHER ONE DIED

Chris has experienced the worst kind of loss, and the general consensus appears to be that he'd never survive another. Even Chris seems to think so, if the fear that twists him up whenever Buck rides too close to the edge is any indication. He tries to hide it, never admits to it, but Buck can tell it's there, lurking in the back of his eyes, ready to flare.

Buck knows what happened when Chris' world collapsed in dust and ashes. He would do anything, say anything to spare his friend from going through that kind of pain again. But fate is a fickle bitch who doesn't give a shit about what's fair or who's deserving, and the life they lead isn't conducive to words like guarantee and forever.

So Buck does what he can to keep the fear at bay. He touches Chris often, because each pat on the arm, each squeeze of the shoulder is unequivocal affirmation: I'm here, with you. He won't make a promise he can't keep, so when he does say words like together and staying, he means them, with all his heart.

Chris believes him, thank God.

As for Buck, well… the way he figures it, if he was the one left behind, he'd manage, somehow. Sure he would.

As long as he can saddle his horse and load his gun, he'd manage just fine, thank you very much.


THE HAPPIEST PLAUSIBLE "HAPPILY EVER AFTER" I CAN THINK OF FOR THEM

Chris knows what it's like to be happy.

It's an assertion worth making. He's borne his share of pain and sorrow for a very long time, and the empty place inside of him will always hurt—the dull ache of an imperfectly healed wound. Still, it would be wrong to assume his grief alone defines him as a person.

Chris has experienced joyous times too, many of them in fact: as a boy, even as a young and wild drifter, and, briefly, with his wife and son. He knows what happiness is.

This is why he recognizes that he is truly happy now. Here, in Four Corners.

It goes without saying that this is not a perfect happiness, far from it. But an imperfect happiness is still happiness. Chris is pragmatic, and takes what he can get. In this case, what he's got is nothing to sneeze at: a place where he belongs and friends he trusts.

And he has Buck. God willing, he always will.

A man would have to go pretty far to do better.