One year ago today, Mark Rivers almost died. That’s what he thinks when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes. And maybe it’s on his mind because he’s been spending so much time with Creegan, because of the way death follows Creegan around like it’s just waiting for another chance at him.
He didn’t die and come back to life the way Creegan did. He never even lost consciousness, at least not completely. So there was no white light and no internal struggle about whether or not his life was worth fighting for, no imaginary conversation with his brother in which Mark found peace for letting him die. No, all he got was burning pain and the floating, drowsy sensation of losing too much blood. He got Creegan with his hands on him, applying pressure to the wound and ordering him to stay with him, goddamn it, so that’s what he did.
So maybe Creegan saved his life. Mark’s still not sure, just like he’s not sure it matters. It doesn’t seem to matter to Creegan, anyway, and when you’re on Creegan’s radar, what matters to him somehow becomes what matters to you.
Mark fought that for a long time. He spent way too long pushing Creegan, testing to see if he really was the mythical creature everyone treated him like, or if he was just another fucked up person like the rest of them. It’s been almost two years since they met, and ten months since they first slept together, and Mark still hasn’t figured it out.
A hand slides across his stomach, warm and familiar and sending a jolt of anticipation straight down Mark’s spine. He turns into the touch automatically, eyes blinking open to find Creegan right there, watching him for that first reaction. When his eyes open Creegan smiles, the innocent one that Mark knows from experience means trouble.
“Morning,” Creegan murmurs, hand dipping lower and he laughs when Mark lets out a gasp. Creegan’s hand grips his cock loosely, moving slow like they’ve got all the time in the world. And they’ve got more time than usual, because it’s Saturday and by some miracle their phones haven’t rung yet. But Mark’s already hard, and he wishes Creegan would pick up the pace a little.
He thrusts his hips up in an effort to get more, but Creegan’s…well, he’s Creegan, and he likes to do things his way. As soon as Mark moves Creegan lets go, hand sliding back up to rest against his stomach. He’s still just watching, but when Mark opens his mouth to complain Creegan leans in close and silences him with a kiss.
He tastes like sleep and stale coffee, but Mark doesn’t mind. One hand lands on the back of Creegan’s head to pull him closer, an arm sliding around his waist until Creegan’s sort of sprawled across him. They’re both fighting for control; it’s a game they play on the job and off, and Mark’s usually the one to give in. It’s the quickest way to get what he wants, as it turns out, because Creegan likes to give him what he wants, but he likes to do it on his terms.
This time Creegan’s letting him lead, though, and when Mark finds himself looking down at a grinning Creegan sprawled on the mattress under him, he’s not sure how it happened.
“Morning,” he says, and Creegan’s smile shifts to something softer, affection and some other emotion Mark doesn’t name because they’ve been at this awhile now, but it’s Creegan, so it could all blow up in his face any time.
Creegan’s hands are on his shoulders now, tracing the lines of his chest and then down, fingers sliding across the long-healed wound that Mark tries not to think about anymore. Which means he thinks about it all the time, and he knows it’s going to be on his mind even more today. And it’s hard to believe it’s been a year, but at the same time it feels like he and Creegan have just been…well, forever.
They’ve been together long enough for Mark to know exactly what Creegan’s thinking, though – well, as close as anybody ever gets to knowing what Creegan’s thinking – and when he gets that look on his face Mark knows what he’s about to say. Shut up, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he ducks his head to press their mouths together, rocking down against Creegan until even he’s too distracted to remember what he was going to say.
They don’t have a lot of secrets. Creegan knows all about Mark’s brother, about how he died and how much Mark still blames himself. He doesn’t try to make Mark believe he wasn’t to blame, and in turn Mark doesn’t lie to Creegan about what a great father he is. But there are things they don’t talk about, mostly because there’s really no point. So Mark distracts Creegan with his hands and his mouth and his tongue, and for now, Creegan lets him.
Maybe later he won’t be able to stop himself; sometimes Creegan just says stuff, even if he knows Mark doesn’t want to hear it. And Mark knows he won’t be able to stop him if it’s still on his mind later, but he’s going to do his best to make sure they both forget for awhile.